By the Mast Divided by David Donachie

Author:David Donachie [Donachie, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History
ISBN: 9780749082604
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2005-09-01T05:00:00+00:00

Pearce knew that his friend was on the defensive, parrying blows and ducking away rather than delivering, and he had an eye on the one legged cook with a view to snatching that cleaver and going after Devenow, for he was well aware that if Michael were beaten he would be next. The notion that it was not fair did not enter into his head -growing up he had learned the absolute necessity of winning, and sometimes when the odds were too heavy the wisdom of running. To lose a fight was to suffer not only ignominy but pain, and to risk much worse. If he used whatever came to hand to gain a victory, a length of wood, a heavy stone, John Pearce could always reassure himself with the knowledge that all he required was enough submission for his own safety; that, just as he had never abandoned a friend in distress, he had never continued to beat a man who was down.

The steady thud of exchanged blows continued for a long time. Michael was weakening; the blows he was giving seemed to have less weight than those he was receiving. Those sailors who had bet on Devenow were trying to increase their stakes; those few who had backed Michael were attempting to cover what looked certain to be a loss. Devenow seemed confident now, his punches reaching further, nearly overbalancing him as he sought to beat Michael back off the line. That was when Michael did another two-step move, and caught the off-balance Devenow with a haymaker to the left of his head. He got in a second one before changing feet again, this time catching his opponent out because Devenow had changed his own feet to parry the danger from Michael’s left hand.

“Come on, Michael.”

Charlie Taverner got many a sharp look that said shut up. It wasn’t much of one because they were enthralled by the contest, now much more even as a recovered O’Hagan put as many blows into Devenow as he received. The tattooed sailor was now forced to take a two-count break, and several deep breaths before coming back to the line. Michael gave him no respite but hit him on arrival with a straight jab that caught Devenow right under the heart. Aimed to go through his body and come out the back, it was a huge punch that stopped the other man’s breath, most of which came hissing out of his lungs, forcing Devenow off the line for another second.

But he was back trading with Michael in a series of exchanges that seemed to last for an age. It was clear that both men were tiring, their labouring breath mixing with the steam rising off the sweat on their bodies; their faces a mass of cuts and swellings, their lips sliced open in more than one spot. Devenow could hardly see, so gross had those heavy brows become, and with so much blood running into his eyes.

Michael was in no better state, but it seemed that his stamina was just that much greater.

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