Each taken blow but gives them zest, they cannot have enough,
For they are out to see red blood, to curse and club and clout,
And few men know and no one cares what brings the fuss about."
—From Hard Knuckles.
About fifty yards distant from Red Billy's hut a circle of shacks enclosed a level piece of ground, and this was used as a dumping place for empty sardine cans, waste tins, scrap iron, and broken bottles. This was also the favourite spot where all manner of quarrels were settled with the fists. It had been christened the Ring, and in those days many a heavy jowl was broken there and many a man was carried out of the enclosure seeing all kinds of dancing lights in front of his eyes. It was to this spot that Moleskin and Gahey came to settle their dispute on the evening of the second day, and I came with them, Joe having appointed me as his second, whose main duty would consist in looking on and giving a word of approval to my principal now and again. When we arrived two fights were already in progress, and my mates had to wait until one of these was brought to a satisfactory conclusion. Some men who had come out through sympathy with the combatants were seated on the ground in one corner, and had transferred their interest from the quarrels to a game of banker or brag. Moleskin and Gahey evinced not the slightest interest in the two fights that were taking place; but grumbled a little because they had to wait their turn so long. For myself, I could hardly understand my mate's indifference to other people's quarrels. At that time, as a true Irishman, I could have spent all day long looking at fights. These men looked upon a fight as they looked upon a shift. "Hurry up and get it done, and when it is done trouble no more about it." Another man's shift or another man's fight was not their business.
I could not take my eyes away from the struggles which were going on already. A big Irishman, slow of foot, strong and heavy-going, was engaged in an encounter with a little Pole, who handled his fists scientifically, and who had battered his opponent's face to an ugly purple by the time we arrived. However, in the end the Irishman won. He lifted his opponent bodily, and threw him, naked shoulders and all, into the middle of a heap of broken bottles and scraggy tins. The Pole would fight no more. His mates pulled the edged scraps of tin out of his flesh, while his victor challenged all Poles (there were a fair sprinkling of them at Kinlochleven) who were yet on the safe side of hell to deadly battle.
The second fight was more vindictive. A Glasgow craneman had fallen foul of an English muck-filler, and the struggle had already lasted for the best part of an hour. Both men were stripped to the buff, and red splotches of blood and dirt covered their steaming bodies. The craneman thought that he had finished matters conclusively when he gave his opponent the knee in the stomach, and knocked him stiff to the ground. Just as he was on the point of leaving the ring the Englishman suddenly recovered, rose to his knees and, grabbing his adversary by the legs, inserted his teeth in the thick of the victor's right calf. Nothing daunted, however, the craneman bent down and tightened his thumbs under his enemy's ear, and pressed strongly until the latter let go his hold.
"Our turn now," said Moleskin affably, as he stripped to the waist and fastened his gallowses around his waist. "It'll give me much pleasure to blacken your eyes, Gahey."
Joe was a fine figure when stripped. His flesh was pure white below the brown of his neck, and the long muscles of his arms stood out in clearly defined ridges. When he stretched his arms his well-developed biceps rose and fell in graceful unison with every movement of his perfectly-shaped chest. When on the roads, dressed in every curious garment which he could beg, borrow, or thieve, Joe looked singularly unprepossessing; but here, naturally garbed, and standing amidst the nakedness of nature, he looked like some magnificent piece of sculpture, gifted with life and fresh from the hands of the genius who fashioned it.