Chapter VIII: Bandsman Napper Is Taught a Lesson

As Napper measured his length on the floor a chorus of cries arose.

‘Hallo, Napper’s got it!’ ‘A mill, a mill!’ ‘Now you’re in for it, Blair!’ ‘Make a ring.’ ‘Give him a chance,’ and so on.

In the midst of these outcries Napper rose to his feet. ‘Run and fetch Charlie Lumsden,’ he cried; and a youngster going, returned in a few moments with Bandsman Lumsden, who was Napper’s particular chum, being the same man Jack, on his first appearance in the room, had seen talking to Napper.

‘Hallo!’ cried Lumsden. ‘What’s the row?’

‘I’m going to lick the life out of this cheeky young beast,’ said Napper angrily; ‘and I want you to see me through, Charlie, and bear evidence that it was a fair fight and no murder.’

‘What’s the good of milling?’ said Lumsden. ‘Give the beggar a couple of dozen with a strap and have done with it.’

While this talk was going on, willing hands had removed the planks and trestles which formed the table, the forms were pushed back, and a space in the centre of the room cleared.

Directly Jack had dashed the cloth in Napper’s face, Will Hodson, seeing that trouble was bound to follow, had announced his intention of seeing Jack through; but Tom Gallon, who bore the marks of Napper’s brutality upon his chin and mouth, with hatred shining in his eyes, cried, ‘Let me stand by Blair, Will; I can do more for the man who’s got pluck enough to face that cowardly hound than anybody else will.’

‘All right, Tommy; we’ll both back him, for he’s got all his work cut out against Napper.’

Lumsden continued to persuade his chum that a good strapping was what Jack wanted, and pointed out that a full bandsman was lowering himself to fight with a raw recruit.

It flashed across Jack’s mind that if Lumsden and Napper combined, the one holding him while the other strapped him, he would stand a poor chance, and his opportunity of obtaining a victory over Napper would be lost. He therefore stepped up to the pair, and, looking at Lumsden, cried, ‘Now, is your man going to stand up or is he going to apologise for his language?’

Lumsden looked at Jack and broke into a loud laugh. ‘Upon my soul, Sammy,’ he said, ‘he’s the cockiest kid I’ve seen yet. I do believe you’ll have to lick him after all.’

Napper required no second bidding. He sprang into the ring formed by the spectators and made a furious rush at Jack. This the latter, who was as active as a panther, avoided, getting in a sly tap on Napper’s ribs as he rushed past him.

Then they faced again, Jack falling back before Napper all the time, keeping away from his sweeping, sledge-hammer blows and his hug, for he saw at once that at close-quarters he would stand a poor chance against his older and heavier opponent.

The way in which Jack eluded his savage rushes and sweeping blows maddened and annoyed Napper, who began to get pumped with his exertions; but he presently got in a blow which caught Jack on the left cheek and made his teeth rattle again.

‘Time!’ cried Hodson, and he and Callon ran in to their man.

In a few moments Jack was ready again.

‘Try and keep away from his slogging blows,’ whispered Hodson; ‘you stand a good chance if you hang on a bit.’

‘All right,’ said Jack cheerily; ‘I’m a long way from being finished yet.’

In the second round Napper came on triumphantly, apparently only waiting an opportunity to rush in and smash his opponent up once and for all. But that he found was more difficult to perform than he imagined. It was science versus strength, and provided only that science could hold on long enough it stood a very good chance of winning.

Seeing an opening after Napper had made one of his futile rushes, Jack got in one too, a regular postman’s knock on his chest, and when time was called Napper did not feel nearly so confident. A couple of similar rounds now followed, and it was curious to note the effect on the bystanders of Jack’s improving chances. At first, when he made a good hit they looked at one another as though to say, ‘Well done!’ but had expressed no opinion aloud. But when it was seen he was holding his own well there were frequent outbursts of ‘Well hit, Blair!’ ‘Well done, ‘Cruity!’ and so on.

Jack was not escaping scot-free, and when he came up for the fifth round one eye was almost closed. Napper, however, was getting very puffed; he was not nearly in such good condition as Jack, and he could not now follow him up so quickly. His breathing was laboured and heavy, and his sledge-hammer blows not so frequent.

Jack then altered his tactics. In an instant he changed from a defensive to an offensive policy; flew at Napper, used his fists with amazing rapidity, and before his astonished enemy realised what was happening half-a-dozen straight, heavy blows had fallen on his head and body.

At the beginning of the next round Napper was beginning to show signs of heavy punishment. In avoiding a rush, Jack bent over till his right forearm rested on his right thigh, and swinging round his left with a circular motion he got in right between Napper’s eyes. He followed up his advantage, and, after several stunning blows on the head, with a left-hander just over Napper’s heart he laid him flat down at Lumsden’s feet.

Jack waited for Napper to rise; but there was no more fight left in that gentleman. ‘Has your man had enough?’ asked Jack of Lumsden.

‘You can see for yourself,’ replied Lumsden sullenly.

Then a strange thing happened. The trumpeters in room B2 realised that the reign of Bully Napper was over.

‘Hurrah! hurrah! three cheers for Blair!’ they yelled.

‘Shut up, you young asses!’ cried Lumsden angrily. ‘Do you want to bring the guard down on you?’

The boys were silenced, and while Lumsden bathed Napper’s head and face in cold water the room was quickly got into order again.

All sorts of congratulations were offered to Jack; but he took no notice of them and was soon in bed, the last thing he heard before he fell asleep being a groan from Napper as he turned over upon some particularly tender spot.