CHAPTER XIII
A HUSKY ANTAGONIST
The next day passed quietly, and the athletes spent it profitably inunbroken training exercises, and Reddy felt that they were rounding intoform in a manner to suit even his critical eye. He watched the runnerscircling the track, the jumpers practising, and last, but not least, thediscus and hammer throwers hurling the heavy weights from the stern ofthe ship. His sharp eye watched Drake's performance with particularcare, but the latter showed no sign of concern over the coming contest,and laughed and joked with the others as though nothing unusual were inthe wind. At his last attempt he gave an unusually savage heave to theheavy disc, and it sailed far out over the shining, sparkling water. Thecord attached to it whizzed through the air, and when pulled in theplate was found to have traveled one hundred and thirty-two feet flat.
"Good for you, Drake. That's the kind of stuff I want to see!" exclaimedthe trainer, and Drake flushed a little with pleasure. Reddy gave solittle praise that when he did speak well of any performance his wordshad a double value. Which was perhaps his object. Who knows?
"Well, it wasn't so bad, I suppose," said Drake, "but I guess I'll reston my laurels now, and take it easy the rest of the day. I'll bet anymoney that before we get to Berlin I'll be crowding the record for allits worth, though."
"Maybe so, maybe so," growled Reddy, who seemed to regret his praise,"but you've got to keep plugging, and plugging hard, if you expect to doit. That's the trouble with a lot of athletes, and a good many otherswho aren't athletes; they quit just when the goal's in sight, and loseall their effort for nothing. It's usually the last few yards of a racethat are the hardest, and it's then that the quitting streak shows up ina lot of people."
"Well, I'm not going to quit," said Drake, a little resentfully.
"I know that, me boy," replied Reddy, in a softer voice. "Me littlesermon wasn't meant for you."
One of the hammer throwers created a diversion here, by getting hisstring tangled in the bulwarks, and not noticing it until he had hurledthe heavy missile. Before it had traveled half its distance it reachedthe end of the cord, which snapped like a cobweb under the weight."Good night," exclaimed the thrower, gazing ruefully at the frazzledend of the cord as it whipped inboard, "there's a hammer gone to visitDavy Jones, all right."
"Gee!" laughed Tom, who was sitting near, "I hope it doesn't hit the oldgentleman on the head. He may not appreciate the gift, if it did."
"I wouldn't blame him much for feeling peeved," said Dick, "it wouldn'tbe the most comfortable thing in the world to have that drop in on youunexpected-like. I think the old sport would have right on his side,myself."
"I think you're right, Dick," said Bert, "and I think that to atone forthe insult we ought to throw old Snyder overboard. What do you think,fellows? It might keep Dave from wreaking his vengeance on the wholeship. A stitch in time saves nine, you know."
"Overboard with him," yelled the laughing group, but Drake held up hishand in silence.
"You seem to forget, fellows," he said, in a solemn voice, "that as yetwe're not absolutely certain that the old gentleman has been hit. Isuggest, therefore, that we spare Snyder until Mr. Jones calls for himin person. Then we will hand him over without protest, of course, infact, gladly."
"Oh, well, I suppose we might as well postpone the pleasure, seeing thatyou suggest it," said Bert. "It's a big disappointment, though."
Accordingly the boys solemnly agreed to spare Snyder's life for the timebeing, and the baited hammer thrower went forward to get a new hammerfrom the reserve supply.
He soon returned, and this time was more careful of his string beforeletting fly. He showed well in the practice, and Reddy was well pleasedwith his work. "I guess he'll do," he thought to himself, "he's gettingslowly better all the time, and that's what I like to see. These'phenoms' aren't all they're cracked up to be. They show up well for awhile, and then like as not they go all to pieces. I'll take a chance ona good, steady, hard working man every time. They're the ones you cancount on in the pinches."
Practice went on without further interruption until lunch time, andeverybody did ample justice to the well cooked meal. The constantexercise, combined with the invigorating sea air, gave them appetitesthat it took much to satisfy, and which caused wondering comment in thegalley.
"Zey eat more zan I zink possible," the little French chef had exclaimedat the beginning of the voyage, with uplifted hands. "I cook an' cook,and still zey have not too much. Mon Dieu! Zey will drive me--wat youcall heem--bughouse. Eet is no wondaire zey are strong."
In one way the little cook was not displeased, however, for at any ratehe could complain of no lack of appreciation of his cooking.
After everything had been demolished the athletes repaired to the deck,and did whatever pleased them for a couple of hours. Some played deckgames, while others were content to read or gaze out idly over thesparkling blue ocean. The weather was ideal, and since the storm thathad wrecked the schooner hardly a cloud had appeared in the sky. Bingoappreciated the fair weather immensely, and began to get his looks back,which had suffered somewhat under his recent hardships. He was nowfirmly intrenched in the affections of every athlete on board, and hadbeen accepted unreservedly as their mascot.
He was friendly with everybody, but his real affection seemed dividedbetween Bert, Tom and Dick. He always followed them around, andevidently considered them his especial guardians, as they had been hisrescuers.
They in turn saw that he had plenty to eat, and made a great pet of himgenerally. He seemed to take a deep interest in everything that went on,and would watch the boys training with the wisest look imaginable on hisdoggish face.
This particular afternoon he was not in sight, however, when Dick andBert went to hunt up Drake. They found him finally, stretched out in asteamer chair, and reading a book as though he had nothing in the worldon his mind.
"Sit down, fellows, and take a load off your feet," he said, as Bert andDick came up, "what's the good word this afternoon?"
"Oh, there's nothing particular doing," replied Bert, as he took hisseat on the edge of the rail, balancing back and forth with the motionof the ship at imminent risk of being spilled into the ocean, "it seemslike the calm preceding the storm."
"By storm meaning to-night, I suppose," said Drake smiling, "but I'm notworrying about it, so why should you?"
"Well, I suppose we don't need to, in that case," replied Bert. "I'mglad you feel so sure about it, though. Do you feel in good shape?"
"Never better in my life," replied Drake, with a tremendous yawn. "I'mjust debating in my mind whether to kill this audacious seaman or justput him on the sick list for a week or two."
"Gee, you just about hate yourself, don't you Drake?" asked Bert, andthey all laughed.
"Just the same you want to be watching all the time," said Bert, "theway this fellow is used to wrestling, everything goes, and you want tolook out for fouls. That's the thing that's worrying me."
"Never fear," replied Drake, "I used to take lessons from a man whoknew the game backward, fair tricks and foul. He taught me a lot while Iwas with him, and I guess I'll know what to expect. And fore-warned isfore-armed, you know."
"Well, that was all I was afraid of," said Bert. "I haven't a doubt inthe world that you are more than a match for him when it comes tostraight wrestling. I'm not so awfully flabby myself, but I know youalways manage to put me down."
"Oh, that's just because it's out of your line," replied Drake, "merebrute strength doesn't count so very much in wrestling. It's likeboxing, or baseball, or anything else; it's head work that is thedeciding factor."
"All right, old sock, get to it then," said Bert, "don't be afraid toeat plenty of beef steak for supper to-night. That's the stuff will pullyou through."
"Right you are!" returned Drake. "I'll be all right, all-right. There'llbe nothing to it, take it from me."
"Well, that's what we like to hear," said Bert, reassured as he and Dickstrolled away. They could talk of
little else the rest of the afternoon,and became more and more excited as the appointed time drew near. Atsupper their usual appetites were not in evidence, and for the firsttime since they left port they failed to give the excellent meal theattention it deserved.
Supper despatched, they hunted up Drake, and together with Tom talkedwith him until it was close to eight o'clock. Then they walked forward,and descended to the seamen's quarters. At intervals other athletes, whohad been 'let in' on the secret, kept dropping in, until a goodlycompany had arrived.
"Well, ye're on toime, Oi see," remarked Donahue, "and how do ye feel,youngster?" addressing Drake. "Are ye ready to have yer back broke?"
"About the same as you are, I guess," replied Drake, nonchalantly, andhis companions grinned. It was evident that their candidate was withoutfear, at any rate.
The preliminaries were soon arranged, and Drake and the sailor facedeach other at opposite extremities of a cleared space perhaps twentyfeet square. Bert had been selected to act as second for Drake, and abig Swede, Olsen by name, had been nominated as Donahue's second. BothDrake and the sailor were dressed in gray flannel shirts and shortathletic trunks, and under this thin covering their splendid physicaldevelopment could be plainly seen.
Donahue's muscles were knotted and bunched, while Drake's lay flatterand were much less prominent. To the untrained eye the sailor seemedmuch the stronger of the two, but Bert knew better. Otherwise they weremuch the same height and weight, and there seemed little to choosebetween them.
The referee gave the starting signal, and Drake and the seamanapproached each other warily, each stepping lightly as a cat. In spiteof their boasting before the contest, each man realized that he wouldhave all he could do to win, and they were careful accordingly. At firstthey circled agilely round and round, each seeking for a favorableopening. Suddenly Drake sprang in, but before he could secure the holdhe wanted, the nimble sailor had leaped aside, and for a few secondsthey stood looking at each other. Then the wary circling began again,but this time it was Donahue who rushed in. He was more fortunate thanDrake, and secured a hold. Drake also got a good grip on him, however,and for a moment they stood quiet, gathering their strength for the realstruggle. Then with a sudden giant heave Donahue sought to lift hisadversary off his feet, but Drake was as supple as a snake, and with aconvulsive movement tore himself out of the sailor's grasp and sprangfree. Donahue was after him in a trice, and again they grappled, butthis time it was Drake who got the better hold. With a heave and alunge he lifted his giant opponent entirely clear of the floor, and senthim crashing down on his side. He followed up his advantage like aflash, but in spite of his great bulk the sailor was very quick, and hadrecovered somewhat, so that, try as he might, Drake was unable to puthim on his back. Finally he was forced to give up the attempt, and theseaman sprang to his feet. They were about to engage again when thereferee stepped in and declared a short time for rest. Both men werepanting heavily, and were evidently in need of it.
They retired to their respective sides of the square, and Bert anxiouslyasked Drake if he felt all right. "Sure thing," responded the latter,"give me a minute to get my wind and I'll be as strong as ever. Thatfellow is a mighty husky brute, though. I've certainly had my hands fullwith him."
On his part, the big Irishman felt surprised that he had not ended thecontest before this, and so expressed himself to his second. "Begorry,"he muttered. "The young felley knows all the tricks o' the game, andthen some. I went to jam me elbow into him when we were mixin' it upthere, and he blocked me as neat as ever you see. Curse me if the youngspalpheen didn't seem to be ixpictin' it."
"Yah, he bane foxy one, you bet," responded the Swede, "but you yust goin an' smash him up now. He bane easy for you."
At this point the referee announced the recommencement of the contest,and again the wrestlers fenced for a hold. Then they dashed in, graspedeach other, and for a moment stood motionless as though rooted to thespot. Gradually, each began to exert his strength, ounce by ounce,seeking by sheer brute force to bend the other backward. Their musclesswelled and stood out under the skin, but at first neither seemed togain an advantage. Then, slowly, very slowly, the big sailor bentbackward--further and further--until he could stand it no longer. With ayell he collapsed and went to the floor, with Drake on top of him. In asecond the athlete had the giant's shoulders touching the floor, and thereferee called a "down."
Then the contest should have been over, but the defeated man would nothave it so. With a hoarse shout of rage he sprang to his feet and rushedstraight at Drake. When the latter saw him coming he set himself for theonslaught with a jerk, and a dangerous light burned in his eyes.
The Irishman dashed for him with the speed and force of a wild bull, andDrake ducked slightly. Then as the man reached him he grasped him by thewrists, and straightened up with a great heave. The sailor went flyingover his head and shot through the air like a projectile from a gun.
A cry went up from everybody there, for it seemed certain that he wouldbe killed. Fortunately, however, his momentum was so great that itcarried him clear to the wall, where he dove head first into a bunk. Fora moment he lay stunned, but then staggered weakly out, shaking his headfrom side to side.
"Be all the saints," he gasped, "Oi've met me match this night and gotthe lickin' of me life. The best man won, that's all Oi've got to say.Shake hands before ye go, will ye, kid?"
"Sure," said Drake frankly, extending his hand. "You gave me a hardtussle, and deserved to win. I hope I never have to stand up against youagain," he added, with a grin, "for you're certainly a dandy."
Then he and his followers filed out, and returned to the trainingquarters. The first person they saw when they entered was Reddy, and hegrinned broadly as they came in. Bert had hinted pretty broadly at theobject of their visit to the forecastle, but had not told Reddy openlywhat was in the wind, as in his official capacity the trainer would nothave felt in a position to sanction the affair. As it was, he awaitednews of the outcome with considerable anxiety, and seemed much relievedwhen the whole contest was recounted to him and he learned of itssuccessful termination.
"Well, to bed with you now, you worthless spalpeens," he said at the endof the recital. But as they were dispersing to their bunk he called,"I'm mighty glad you won, Drake."
The next morning Drake was on deck and practising at the usual time,feeling no ill effects from his strenuous experience other than a slightstiffness, which bothered him very little. In a couple of days even thiswore off, and the next day but one from the date of the exciting contesthe broke the record for discus throwing by a matter of almost sixinches, thus justifying the trainer's judgment.
As for the crew, they treated Drake with marked respect, and from thatday forward nothing more was heard from them except praise concerning"college athletes," and especially "plate-throwers."
Bert Wilson, Marathon Winner Page 13
