He feinted with dazzling rapidity several times, and drove a straight left to the Frenchman's ear. With lightning-like quickness he played a tattoo upon the Frenchman's face and body. Bewildered, his opponent dashed into a clinch.
"If you say so, we'll call this off right here," said Jack.
The Frenchman suddenly freed himself, and his reply to this kindly offer was to send a jab to Jack's nose, drawing blood.
"Just for that," said Jack quietly, who felt somewhat ashamed at having been caught off his guard, "I'll finish this fight right now. There is no need prolonging it."
Once, twice, he rocked the Frenchman's head, and then, as the latter came forward in a last desperate effort, Jack pivoted on his heel, and, starting his left low, swung. The Frenchman checked himself in his attack, and desperately tried to leap back.
But it was too late. Through his guard went the blow, and, catching the Frenchman on the point of the chin, it lifted him from his feet and into the air.
At least four feet through the air went the Frenchman, and came to the deck, head first, at the feet of his friends. He lay there while the referee counted him out.
Quickly Jack leaped forward, and, kneeling, raised his late opponent's head.
"Water, some of you," he called.
It was quickly brought, and Jack, wetting his handkerchief, bathed the Frenchman's face. His efforts were at last rewarded by a slight groan, and finally the unconscious man opened his eyes.