CHAPTER II
THE HAMMERLOCK
We had many sorts of men in our club, but nearly all young. One, inespecial, early attracted my attention, and held it through all thechanging vicissitudes of our many meetings. I say attracted me, thoughfascinated would be perhaps the better word, for after the first eveningof his attendance I used deliberately so to place myself that I couldwatch him.
He came always in a rather worn military cape, which on entering thedoor he promptly threw back in such a manner as to display the redlining. This seemed an appropriate envelopment of his flaming, buoyantpersonality. He walked with his chin up and his back straight, and troddirectly on and over the ends of his toes so that he seemed fairly tospring with vigour. His body was very erect and tall and pliant, bendingeasily to every change of balance. If I were never to have seen his faceat all I should have placed him as one of the laughing spirits of theworld. His head was rather small, round, well poised, with softclose-set ringlets all over it like a cap, in the fashion of some marblegods I have seen. He had very regular, handsome features, with a clear,biscuit-brown complexion, and a close-clipped, stubby, light moustache.All these things were interesting and attractive, though no more so thanare the vigour and beauty of any perfect animal. But the quality of hiseyes placed him, at least to me, in a class apart. They were sober,clear eyes, that looked out gray and contemplative on the world aboutthem; so that one got the instant impression of a soul behind them thatweighed and judged. Indeed they were not laughing eyes at all, andrather negatived the impression made by the man's general bearing. Butsomewhere down in them something flickered like a strong burning candlein a brisk wind. Occasionally it was almost out; then again it blazed upclear, so that one thought to see it plainly through the steady broodinglook. It always fascinated the beholder, for it was mysterious. Whetherit came and went, grew and shrank, following delicately the moods orreflections of the spirit within, or whether it was a purely fortuitouseffect of light and refraction, no man was ever able to say. And somemen later made some very bad guesses. I myself think it was the devil ofgenius--a devil behind the steady control of a clear brain. His name, Isoon discovered, was Talbot Ward.
At this period I was starting in as an assistant bookkeeper to a largeexporting firm. They were enterprising people, and already they werelaying plans to capture some of the California trade. The office talk Iheard concerning the purchase of ships, the consignment of arms, theengagement of captains and of crews further inflamed my imagination. Ireceived the vast sum of nine dollars per week. As I was quite alone inthe world, and possessed no other resources, the saving of the fivehundred dollars agreed upon as the least sum with which it was possibleto get to California was fairly out of all question.
One evening, after the meeting, to my great surprise, Ward fell intostep with me. We had up to that moment never exchanged a word.
"In New York long?" he demanded.
"About six months," I told him.
"Farm bred, of course?" he remarked. "Where?"
"Ashbury in Vermont," I replied, without the slightest feeling that hewas intrusive.
He stopped short in the street and looked me up and down reflectively,but without comment.
"I've been watching you at these fool meetings," said he, falling intostep again.
In spite of myself I experienced a glow of gratification at having beenthe object of his interest.
"Fool meetings?" I echoed inquiringly.
"Suppose, by a miracle, all that lot could agree, and could start forCalifornia to-morrow, in a body--that's what they are organized for, Ibelieve," he countered--"would you go with them?"
"Why not?"
"Martin is why not; and Fowler is why not; and that little Smith runt,and six or eight others. They are weak sisters. If you are going into athing, go into it with the strong men. I wouldn't go with that crowd toa snake fight if it was twelve miles away. Where do you live?"
"West Ninth Street."
"That's not far. Have you a good big room?"
"I have a very small hall bedroom," I replied wonderingly; "a number ofus have the whole of the top floor."
Somehow, I must repeat, this unexplained intrusion of a total strangerinto my private affairs did not offend.
"Then you must have a big sitting-room. How many of you?"
"Four."
"Can you lick all the others?"
I stopped to laugh. By some shrewd guess he had hit on our chiefdifficulty as a community. We were all four country boys with a gooddeal of residuary energy and high spirits; and we were not popular withthe tenants underneath.
"You see I'm pretty big----" I reminded him.
"Yes, I see you are. That's why I'm with you. Do you think you can lickme?"
I stopped short again, in surprise.
"What in blazes----" I began.
He laughed, and the devils in his eyes danced right out to the surfaceof them.
"I asked you a plain question," he said, "and I'd like the favour of aplain answer. Do you think you can lick me as well as your ruralfriends?"
"I can," said I shortly.
He ran his arm through mine eagerly.
"Come on!" he cried, "on to West Ninth!"
We found two of my roommates smoking and talking before the tiny openfire. Talbot Ward, full of the business in hand, rushed directly at thematter once the introductions were over.
Our arrangements were very simple; the chairs were few and pushed backeasily, and we had an old set of gloves.
"Which is it to be?" I asked my guest, "boxing or wrestling?"
"I said you couldn't _lick_ me," he replied. "Boxing is a game withrules; it isn't fighting at all."
"You want to bite and gouge and scratch, then?" said I, greatly amused.
"I do not; they would not be fair; a fight's a fight; but a man can bedecent with it all. We'll put on the gloves, and we'll hit and wrestleboth--in fact, we'll fight."
He began rapidly to strip.
"Would you expect to get off your clothes in a real fight?" I asked hima little sardonically.
"If I _expected_ to fight, yes!" said he. "Why not? Didn't theGreek and Roman and Hebrew and Hun and every other good old fighter'strip for the fray' when he got a chance? Of course! Takeoff yourshirt, man!"
I began also to strip for this strange contest whose rules seemed to bemade up from a judicious selection of general principles by Talbot Ward.
My opponent's body was as beautiful as his head. The smooth white skincovered long muscles that rippled beneath it with every slightestmotion. The chest was deep, the waist and hips narrow, the shoulderswell rounded. In contrast my own big prominent muscles, trained by heavyfarm work of my early youth, seemed to move slowly, to knot sluggishlythough powerfully. Nevertheless I judged at a glance that my strengthcould not but prove greater than his. In a boxing match his lithequickness might win--provided he had the skill to direct it. But in agenuine fight, within the circumscribed and hampering dimensions of ourlittle room, I thought my own rather unusual power must crush him. Theonly unknown quantity was the spirit or gameness of us two. I had nogreat doubt of my own determination in that respect--I had been on toomany log-drives to fear personal encounter. And certainly Talbot Wardseemed to show nothing but eager interest.
"You don't show up for what you are in your clothes," said he. "This isgoing to be more fun than I had thought."
My roommates perched on the table and the mantelpiece out of the way. Iasked the length of the rounds.
"Rounds!" echoed Talbot Ward with a flash of teeth beneath his littlemoustache. "Did you ever hear of rounds in a real fight?"
With the words he sprang forward and hit me twice. The blows started atthe very toe of his foot; and they shook me as no blows, even with thebare fist, have ever shaken me before or since. Completely dazed, Istruck back, but encountered only the empty air. Four or five times,from somewhere, these pile-driver fists descended upon me. Being nowprepared, to some extent, I raised my elbows and managed t
o defend myneck and jaws. The attack was immediately transferred to my body, but Istiffened my muscles thankfully and took the punishment. My river andfarm work had so hardened me there that I believe I could have taken thekick of a mule without damage were I expecting it.
The respite enabled my brain to clear. I recovered slowly from theeffect of those first two vicious blows. I saw Ward, his eyes narrowedcalculatingly, his body swinging forward like a whalebone spring,delivering his attack with nice accuracy. A slow anger glowed throughme. He had begun without the least warning: had caught me absolutelyunaware. I hit back.
He was so intent on his own assault, so certain of the blinding effectof his first attack, that I hit him. I saw his head snap back, and theblood come from his lips. The blows were weak, for I was still dazed;but they served, together with the slow burn of my anger, greatly tosteady me. We were once more on equal terms.
For perhaps two minutes I tried to exchange with him. He was in and outlike lightning; he landed on me hard almost every time; he escaped nineout of ten of my return counters. Decidedly I was getting the worst ofthis; though my heavier body took punishment better than his lighter andmore nervous frame. Then suddenly it occurred to me that I was playinghis game for him. As long as he could keep away from me, he was at anadvantage. My best chance was to close.
From that moment I took the aggressive, and was in consequence the morepunished. My rushes to close in were skilfully eluded; and theygenerally laid me wide open. My head was singing, and my sightuncertain; though I was in no real distress. Ward danced away andslipped around tense as a panther.
Then, by a very simple ruse, I got hold of him. I feinted at rushinghim, stopped and hit instead, and then, following closely the blow,managed to seize his arm. For ten seconds he jerked and twisted andstruggled to release himself. Then suddenly he gave that up, doveforward, and caught me in a grapevine.
He was a fairly skilful wrestler, and very strong. It was as though hewere made of whalebone springs. But never yet have I met a man of myweight who possessed the same solid strength; and Ward would tip thescales at considerably less. I broke his hold, and went after him.
He was as lively as an exceedingly slippery fish. Time after time he allbut wriggled from my grasp; and time after time he broke my hold bysheer agility. His exertions must have been to him something terrible,for they required every ounce of his strength at the greatest speed. Icould, of course, take it much easier, and every instant I expected tofeel him weaken beneath my hands; but apparently he was as vigorous asever. He was in excellent training. At last, however, I managed to jerkhim whirling past me, to throw his feet from under him, and to drop himbeneath me. As he fell he twisted, and by a sheer fluke I caught hiswrist.
Thus through no great skill of my own the fortunes of war had given me ahammerlock on him. Most people know what that is. Any one else can findout by placing his forearm across the small of his back and then gettingsomebody else to press upward on the forearm. The Greek statue of "TheWrestlers" illustrates it. As the pressure increases, so does the pain.When the pain becomes intense enough, the wrestler rolls over and thecontest is won. Some people can stand it longer than others; but allsooner or later must give up. In fact, skilled wrestlers, knowing thatotherwise the inevitable end is a broken arm, save themselves muchtribulation by immediately conceding the bout once this deadly hold isgained.
I began to force Talbot Ward's hand slowly up his back.
Very gently, an inch at a time, I pressed. He said nothing. Once heattempted to slip sidewise; but finding me of course fully prepared forthat, he instantly ceased struggling. After I had pushed the hand to thehurting point, I stopped.
"Well?" said I.
He said nothing.
Now I was young, and none too well disciplined, heated by contest, andvery angry at having been so unexpectedly attacked at the beginning. Iwas quite willing to hurt him a little. Slowly and steadily, and, I amashamed to say, with considerable satisfaction, I pressed the armupward. The pain must have been intense. I could feel the man's bodyquiver between my knees, and saw the sweat break out afresh. Still hemade no sign, but dug his forehead into the floor. "I can stand this aslong as you can," said I to myself grimly.
But at last I reached the point where I knew that another inch, anotherpound, would break the bone.
"Do you give up?" I demanded.
"No!" he gasped explosively.
"I'll break your arm!" I snarled at him.
He made no reply.
The blood was running into my eyes from a small scrape on my forehead.It was nothing, but it annoyed me. I was bruised and heated and mad.Every bit of antagonism in me was aroused. As far as I was concerned, itwas a very real fight.
"All right," I growled, "I'll keep you there then, damn you!"
Holding the arm in the same position, I settled myself. The pain to thepoor chap must have been something fearful, for every muscle and tendonwas stretched to the cracking point. His breath came and went in sharphisses; but he gave no other sign. My heat cooled, though, as I lookback on it, far too slowly. Suddenly I arose and flung him from me. Herolled over on his back, and lay, his eyes half closed, breathingdeeply. We must have been a sweet sight, we two young barbarians--myselfmarked and swollen and bloody, he with one eye puffed, and pale asdeath. My roommates, absolutely fascinated, did not stir.
The tableau lasted only the fraction of a minute, after all. Thenabruptly Talbot Ward sat up. He grinned up at me with his characteristicmomentary flash of teeth.
"I told you you couldn't lick me," said he.
I stared at him in astonishment.
"Licked? Why, I had you cold!"
"You had not."
"I'd have broken your arm, if I had gone any farther."
"Well, why didn't you?"
I stared into his eyes blankly.
"Would you have done it?" I asked, in a sudden flash of illumination.
"Why, of course," said he, with a faint contempt, as he arose.
"Why did you hit me at first, as you did? You gave me no warningwhatever."
"Do you get any warning in a real fight?"
I could not controvert this; and yet uneasily, vaguely, I felt theremust be a fallacy somewhere. I had been told and not told, what should,or should not, be done, in an affair that apparently could have norules, and yet had distinctions as to fair and unfair, some of whichwere explained and some left as obvious. I felt somewhat confused. Butoften in my later experience with Talbot Ward I felt just that way, soin retrospect it does not strike me so forcibly as it did at that time.
"But you're a wonder! a perfect wonder!" Ward was saying.
Then we all became aware of a knocking and a rattling at the door. Itmust have been going on for some time.
"If you don't open, I'll get the police! I promise you, I'll get thepolice!" the voice of our landlady was saying.
We looked at each other aghast.
"I suppose we must have been making a little noise," conceded TalbotWard. Noise! It must have sounded as though the house were coming down.Our ordinary little boxing matches were nothing to it.
Ward threw his military cape around his shoulders, and sank back into aseat beneath the window. I put on an overcoat. One of the boys let herin.
She was thoroughly angry, and she gave us all notice to go. She had donethat same every Saturday night for a year; but we had always wheedledher out of it. This time, however, she seemed to mean business. Isuppose we _had_ made a good deal of a riot. When the fact becameevident, I, of course, shouldered the whole responsibility. Thereuponshe turned on me. Unexpectedly Talbot Ward spoke up from the obscurityof his corner. His clear voice was incisive, but so courteous with thecold finality of the high-bred aristocrat, that Mrs. Simpkins was cutshort in the middle of a sentence.
"I beg you, calm yourself, madam," said he; "it is not worth heatingyourself over: for the annoyance, such as it is, will soon be removed.Mr. Munroe and myself are shortly departing together for California."
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