“This thing has got to be pulled off without noise,” Jack continued; “so I must ask you to refrain from applauding. Is that satisfactory?”
“O. K. Jack,” came the reply from some. “You’re the boy!” and “Run it to suit yourself” from others.
“All right, then,” said Jack.
With a piece of chalk he drew a square on the deck, twenty feet each way.
“Fighting must be done in this ring,” he declared, “Marquis of Queensbury rules, and no hitting in the clinches. Ten three-minute rounds, with a minute’s rest between rounds. This is going to be a square fight, because I am going to referee it. The first man to break one of these rules will have me to contend with, and he will have a big job on his hands.”
A subdued laugh ran along the line of sailor spectators.
“Good for you, Jack,” came the cries. “You’re the boy! Tell ’em what’s what!”
“Now for seconds,” continued Jack. “Thomas, you will go to Chadwick’s corner. I don’t like to impose upon anyone, so I shall call for volunteers. Who will second the lieutenant?”
There was a moment’s silence, then an old sailor in the rear of the crowd pushed his way forward.
“I don’t think much of the job,” he said, “but somebody has got to do it. I guess I’m the victim.”