They did “nail” him, but not a second too soon, and Kester was hauled back into the ring amid a great uproar. Dan was standing in the center of the roped enclosure, his face a bit more pale than usual, but in no other way did he exhibit emotion. By this time Sam was at his side, rapidly stripping the gloves from the hands of the victor.
“It was great—the greatest fight I ever saw in my life!” cried the red-headed boy excitedly.
“It was not. It was tough, but I had to do it,” replied Dan moodily. “I just had to do it to save myself. He would have given me a terrible beating had I not finished him. I saw that early, and tried to get him to call it a draw. He refused, so there was nothing left for me except to finish it right there. I am glad he did not go overboard. That would have been terrible. Is he still unconscious?”
“I have been too busy to look,” grinned Sam.
All at once the jackies seemed to have recovered from their surprise.
“Dynamite! Dynamite!” they roared.
Making a concerted rush at the Battleship Boy, they hoisted him to their shoulders and began marching about the deck shouting and singing, though Dan much preferred not to have his victory celebrated in this manner. There was no restraining the jackies, however. From a raw recruit Dan Davis had, in a few moments, won his way into the heart of every jackie, except Kester, on board the “Long Island.” Dan had suddenly grown from boyhood to manhood in their estimation.
As soon as he could release himself from their hospitable shoulders the lad made his way to the ring, where Kester’s seconds had just succeeded in restoring him to consciousness.
“I’m sorry, Kester. I hope I have not hurt you,” said Dan in a tone of deep concern. To this the fellow made no reply.
“Won’t you shake hands with me and let us be friends?”