Benson fairly hurled himself through the open door in his need of reaching the sidewalk in time.
He stood, now waiting for a second or so.
Then Fred Radwin jumped up, prepared to grapple with this young foeman.
But Jack was ready for that. He had ready a handy sailor jab—a short-arm blow with the fist that sent Radwin once more to the sidewalk.
Then, as scientific boxing rules were not called for in an encounter of this kind, Jack followed up his advantages with two severe kicks.
Down from the seat leaped the driver, heavy whip in hand.
"Oh, you're in this, are you?" panted Jack, seeing that the driver was headed straight for him.
Down low ducked the submarine boy; then came up straight at close quarters. Benson's sudden grapple deprived the driver of a chance to use the butt of his whip in the manner the fellow had intended.
Yet the driver was a powerful fellow, his strength making him about a match for the greater agility of the bronzed young skipper.
Jack managed to land a blow or two against his big assailant, though without doing much harm.