He appealed to the men at
his back. "He won't stand up like a man. He leaps around like a bloody
monkey."
"That's right, bosun. Stand up to him there, you!" That was the
carpenter's voice. And others followed. 'Twasn't so men'd been used to
fightin' on oil-tankers. No, sir. "Stand to him breast to breast!" The
carpenter led further clamorous voices.
"Aye, breast to breast be it." Kieran was standing at ease. "And yet you
all been telling how he drove his fist through a pine plank the other
day up on the New York water-front."
"Yes, an' I c'n drive it through you, if yer come close to me."
"Close to you? Is this close enough to you?" No more side-stepping, no
more swift shifting--just a straight step in, and they were clinched.
With arms wrapped around the body of the other, each an inside and
outside hold, and fingers locked in the small of the other's back, they
were at it. One tentative tug and haul and the bosun began to see that
he would need all his strength for this man. Another long-drawn tug and
he began to fear the outcome. Again, and in place of his foe coming to
him, it was his own waist he felt drawn forward. Slowly he felt his head
falling back, and gradually his shoulders followed. In toward Kieran
came the hollow of the big man's back, and the big man knew he had met
his master; and, bitterest of all, this man poured galling words into
his ear as he bore him back; gibing words, in so low a voice that they
reached no further than the ear for which they were intended.
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