For emphasis he clutched the collar he still held, and Mr. Beaver squirmed as though in fear of being hurled bodily into the face of the city boxer. Sim Hicks sprang at the Captain’s throat with a fierce leap and an angry growl. But Sim picked himself up from a corner and rubbed the blood from his streaming nose. The sight of the cringing Innkeeper seemed to have a temporary effect upon the pugilist, but he quickly recovered and bristled defiantly.
“You damned city cur! If you don’t fight fair I’ll measure you out on the same spot!”
“You go to the devil!” said the man with a sneer.
“When I do I’ll take a white-livered, yellow-haired cur along. You take that grin off your face and stand up to Mack like a man. I’ll act as pilot from now on, and if I sight any more of your dirty tricks, may the Lord have mercy on you, for I won’t. Pitch in!”
The two men obeyed and faced each other. Except for a slight tightening of the lips, Mr. McGowan gave no sign of having suffered from the severe punishment because of the other man’s foul. Those who had been standing about the box, now jostled the other faction out of the ring, and pressed closely about the Captain.
During the next fifteen minutes the boxers worked swiftly. Although the stranger had publicly defied the seaman’s orders to fight fair, yet it was apparent to all that he was obeying them. Only once did he attempt a foul. The Captain’s quick eyes saw, and with a thundering command that shook the room he checked the pugilist’s stiff arm movement to the throat. Then the end came. Mr. McGowan brought forward his head and shoulders with his usual lightning-like swiftness in 108 order to draw a lead before the other was prepared for it, and at the same time he accompanied the movement with a quick jerking back of his left hand as though suddenly changing his mind. The city man did the rest. He halted. Mr. McGowan stepped to the left just as the other delivered his spent blow, and with the added weight of his moving body landed his right glove against the stranger’s ear. This was quickly followed with a crashing upper-cut to the heavy jaw. There was a loud rending and ripping of splintered wood as the big man fell through one of the thin panels of the partition. He slid to the floor and lay motionless amidst the wreckage.
Sim Hicks bawled at him to get up and go on with the fight. Mr. Beaver squirmed and whined under the tightening grip like a beaten pup. The crowd stood dumb with amazement. Few of those present had ever witnessed the effect of a knock-out blow.
Mr. McGowan was the first to the side of the prostrate man. He lifted him to his feet, and began walking him about. As the stranger regained his senses, he smiled faintly 109 at Hicks’ repeated requests that the fight be finished.
“How long was I out?” asked the pugilist.