CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FIGHT.
The lieutenant came forward with a leap, and aimed a smashing blow at Frank’s head. Retreating swiftly, the lad jerked back his head with a quick move, and the blow fell short by an eyelash. It was a pretty move, and the crowd of spectators acknowledged it with subdued exclamations of delight.
The lieutenant was thrown off his balance by the force of his blow, but Frank did not take advantage of the opening, contenting himself with remaining on guard. He knew that if one of those sledge-hammer blows should land, it would probably end the contest once and for all.
“Dumb luck!” exclaimed the crestfallen lieutenant, as he pressed forward again, “but I’ll get you next time!”
Frank smiled quietly. This seemed to enrage the lieutenant, and he made a sudden rush forward, casting science to the winds. He aimed a vicious blow at Frank, but the lad side-stepped neatly, and as the lieutenant, carried forward by the force of the blow, passed him, there was a sharp “spat” as Frank’s right fist found its mark behind the lieutenant’s ear.
The blow was a light one and did no damage save to make Lieutenant Taylor’s wrath greater. Turning, he charged again, and this time Frank did not retreat. He warded off a series of terrific blows with a perfect guard, but so swiftly did they rain in on him that he had no opportunity to counter. Again the lieutenant bored in. Suddenly Frank stepped inside the other’s guard, left open because of his wild swings, and delivered a stinging blow to the point of the chin. The lieutenant staggered back, and, as he did so, time was called for the first round.
“Pretty work, my boy,” exclaimed Frank’s second, as the lad returned to his corner. “You had him going that time. But he’ll cool off between rounds, so you want to be careful. Better stay on the defensive for a few rounds and tire him a bit. One of those wild swings is liable to land, and, if it did, it would be good night for you.”
“Thanks,” replied Frank. “That is good advice, and I shall heed it.”
The two advanced to the center of the ring for the second round.
“Good work, get him this time, boy; watch out for his swings,” came the advice from the crowd.
But this time the lieutenant was more careful. He had learned that this opponent, whom he had held so lightly, was no novice, and that he had power behind his blows. Therefore he gave up his whirlwind attack, and for two minutes the combatants stood face to face and sparred. Gradually the lieutenant moved forward and Frank retreated slowly. He had adopted a waiting policy. He was trying to tire his opponent out. The round ended without a severe blow being struck.
The third and fourth rounds were a repetition of the second. But the lieutenant, tiring of this, began the fifth with a rush. As before, Frank retreated before him, and, after backing twice around the ring, the lieutenant suddenly launched a terrific blow at him.
In leaping back, Frank tripped, and, in trying to regain his balance, left his guard open. Quick to take advantage of this misfortune, Lieutenant Taylor sprang forward and aimed another vicious blow. At this moment Frank regained his balance, but he was unable to avoid the blow, which caught him with stunning force on the jaw.
The lad reeled, staggered back, and fell to the floor.
“One—two—three—four—five,” counted Jack.
At the count of six, Frank raised himself to his knees, and at nine staggered to his feet. By a great effort he avoided the lieutenant’s blow and staggered into a clinch. A moment later time was called.
Frank’s second was in the ring in an instant and dragged the lad quickly to his corner, where he did all in his power to revive him before time was again called.
“He thinks he’s got you now,” he whispered. “If you can stall through this round, you will be all right. Clinch, and hang on tight.”
In the opposite corner Lieutenant Taylor sat with a sneering smile on his face.
“I’ll end it this round,” he told himself.
When time was called for the sixth round Frank rushed desperately into a clinch. Each moment his head became clearer, and he grew stronger. He clinched time after time and succeeded in going through the round without punishment.
Through the seventh and eighth round Frank continued to fight off his opponent, not attempting to strike a blow himself. The opening of the ninth round found the lad himself again.
“He has had it all his own way too long,” he told himself. “It’s time for me to get busy.”
Once more the lieutenant came forward with a rush. But this time, instead of stepping backward, Frank, warding off the lieutenant’s right, stepped inside the other’s guard, and delivered a sharp, short-arm jab to his opponent’s jaw. The lieutenant hesitated a moment, and the lad, following up his advantage, sent his left to his opponent’s stomach.
Then he stepped back and the lieutenant came in again. Feinting with his left, Frank sent his right fist crashing into the lieutenant’s sore jaw, and the latter gave ground.
Frank followed him closely, delivering a series of right- and left-handed hooks at close range. The lieutenant, apparently bewildered at this whirlwind attack, after having had it all his own way so long, continued to retreat around the ring.
Then, suddenly, he lowered his head, and rushed like an enraged bull straight at the lad. Frank stepped quickly to one side, and struck out straight from the shoulder. The blow landed flush upon the lieutenant’s chin, and he fell sprawling clear across the ring.
“Hooray, hooray!” came the cries of the sailors. “You got him that time!”
But, as Jack counted four, time was called again, and the lieutenant was saved.
“Get him this time, Frank!” cried the spectators, as the two advanced to the center of the ring for the last round. The lieutenant was very shaky, but his second had worked over him hard, and he was in a position to go on with the fight.
Frank gave him no time to rest. He bored in rapidly, keeping his guard steady the while, that no chance blow might break through, and staggered his opponent time after time with jabs, hooks and long-range blows.
The lieutenant gave back steadily before him and Frank followed up his advantage swiftly.
Now the lieutenant seemed to recover himself, and stepped forward in a final desperate effort to end the battle; and for a moment the two stood toe to toe and exchanged blows. Frank emerged from this struggle at close quarters second best, his face streaming with blood.
But the lieutenant’s blows had lost their force, and though the lad’s face was a sight, he was not badly hurt.
Suddenly Frank stepped forward, and, brushing aside the other’s guard, struck him a hard left-handed blow over the heart. The lieutenant reeled, and before he could recover his balance Frank crossed his right to the lieutenant’s face.
There was a resounding “smack,” followed by a heavy fall, as Lieutenant Taylor, struck flush upon the point of the chin, was lifted from his feet, and measured his length upon the floor.
“——Eight—nine—ten—out!” counted Jack; and the sailors surged in and lifted Frank to their shoulders.
A moment later Lieutenant Taylor stirred, then arose slowly to his feet. Even as he did so, the sounds of hilarity on the gun deck were stilled by a harsh voice:
“Lieutenant Taylor! Mr. Chadwick! To your quarters immediately! You may consider yourselves under arrest. Such disgraceful proceedings will not be tolerated on the Sylph while I am in command!”
Turning, Jack and Frank beheld the stern countenance of Lord Hastings.