captain looked worried, whilst me and Ptomaine felt low enough to walk under a worm with high hats on!
The minute the sailor hit the dishpan for round one, the mate lowers his head and bores into the Kid, which was busy tryin' to keep his balance on the deck. The champion easily blocked a wild right swing, but slipped on the rollin' deck in duckin' a left to the jaw. Kid Roberts fell on his back, his head strikin' with a sickenin' thump! The sailors danced around, bellerin' like savages for the captain to count the Kid out, but the skipper refused, on the grounds that the mate had nothin' what the so ever to do with Kid Roberts goin' down. The captain was a good egg, at that. Although badly stunned, Kid Roberts had the born fighter's instinct to try and get up till knocked dead! The champion struggled to his feet, swayin' dizzily and at sea in more ways than one. With his shipmates howlin' for a knockout, the mate rushed the groggy and almost defenceless Kid, sprayin' him with terrible lefts and rights. Kid Roberts, bleedin' from nose and mouth, tried a left to the wind. The lead was short and another lurch of the vessel again sent him to his knees. The Kid grabbed the mate around the waist and pulled himself up, then stepped back and threw a hard right at the mate's jaw. Still dazed by his first fall, he missed by a foot and the mate dropped him with a poisonous right, flush to the chin.
Kid Roberts lay on his side with closed eyes, whilst the captain begin to count with a serious face. You couldn't hear him over the shrieks of the sailors, but you could hear me and Ptomaine screamin' that
