I heard him laughing with my eldest brother over my question and so imagined that I was forgiven, and the next day or the day after, finding me as assiduous as ever, he said: «You know, your question amused me, and I thought I would try to find an answer to it, and here is one. When you can put a stiff penis in her hand and weep profusely the while, you're getting near any woman's heart. But don't forget the tears.» I found the advice a counsel of perfection; I was unable to weep at such a moment, but I never forgot the words.
There was a large barracks of Irish constabulary in Ballybay and the sub-inspector was a handsome fellow of five feet nine or ten named Walter Raleigh. He used to say that he was a descendant of the famous courtier of Queen Elizabeth, and he pronounced his name «Roily,» and assured us that his illustrious namesake had often spelt it in this way, which showed that he must have pronounced it as if written with an o. The reason I mention Raleigh here is that his sisters and mine were great friends and he came in and out of our house almost as if it were his own. Every evening, when Vernon and Raleigh had nothing better to do, they cleared away the chairs in our back parlor, put on boxing gloves and had a set to. My father used to sit in a corner and watch them. Vernon was lighter and smaller, but quicker; still I used to think that Raleigh did not put out his full strength against him.
One of the first evenings when Vernon was complaining that Raleigh hadn't come in or sent, my father said: «Why not try Joe?» (My nickname!) In a jiffy I had the gloves on and got my first lesson from Vernon, who taught me at least how to hit straight and then how to guard and side-step. I was very quick and strong for my size, but for some time Vernon hit me very lightly. Soon, however, it became difficult for him to hit me at all; and then I sometimes got a heavy blow that floored me. But with constant practice I improved rapidly and after a fortnight or so put on the gloves once with Raleigh. His blows were very much heavier and staggered me even to guard them, so I got accustomed to duck or side-step or slip every blow aimed at me while hitting back with all my strength. One evening when Vernon and Raleigh both had been praising me, I told them of Jones and how he bullied me; he had really made my life a misery to me. He never met me outside the school without striking or kicking me and his favorite name for me was «bog-trotter!» His attitude, too, affected the whole school: I had grown to hate him as much as I feared him. They both thought I could beat him; but I described him as very strong and finally Raleigh decided to send for two pairs of four-ounce gloves, or fighting gloves, and use these with me to give me confidence. In the first half hour with the new gloves, Vernon did not hit me once and I had to acknowledge that he was stronger and quicker even than Jones.
At the end of the holidays they both made me promise to slap Jones' face the very first time I saw him in the school. On returning to school we always met in the big school room. When I entered the room there was silence. I was dreadfully excited and frightened, I don't know why, but fully resolved: «He can't kill me,» I said to myself a thousand times; still I was in a trembling funk inwardly though composed enough in outward seeming. Jones and two others of the sixth stood in front of the empty fireplace: I went up to them. Jones nodded, «How d'ye do, Pat?» «Fairly,» I said, «but why do you take all the room?» and I jostled him aside; he immediately pushed me hard and I slapped his face, as I had promised. The elder boys held him back or the fight would have taken place then and there. «Will you fight?» he barked at me and I replied, «As much as you like, bully!»
It was arranged that the fight should take place on the next afternoon, which happened to be a Wednesday and half-holiday. From three to six would give us time enough. That evening Stackpole asked me to his room and told me he would get the Doctor to stop the fight if I wished; I assured him it had to be and I preferred to have it settled. «I'm afraid he's too old and strong for you,» said Stackpole: I only smiled. Next day the ring was made at the top of the playing field behind the haystack so that we could not be seen from the school. All the sixth and nearly all the school stood behind Jones; but Stackpole, while ostensibly strolling about, was always close to me. I felt very grateful to him: I don't know why, but his presence took away from my loneliness. At first the fight was almost a boxing-match. Jones shot out his left hand, my head slipped it and I countered with my right in his face: a moment later he rushed me but I ducked and side-stepped and hit him hard on the chin. I could feel the astonishment of the school in the dead silence. «Good, good!» cried Stackpole behind me. «That's the way.» And indeed it was the «way» of the fight in every round except one. We had been hard at it for some eight or ten minutes when I felt Jones getting weaker or losing his breath: at once I went in attacking with all my might, when suddenly, as luck would have it, I caught a right swing just under the left ear and was knocked clean off my feet: he could hit hard enough, that was clear. As I went into the middle of the ring for the next round, Jones peered at me. «You got that, didn't ye, Pat?»
«Yes,» I replied, «but I'll beat you black and blue for it,» and the fight went on. I had made up my mind, lying on the ground, to strike only at his face. He was short and strong and my body blows didn't seem to make any impression on him; but if I could blacken all his face, the masters and especially the Doctor would understand what had happened. Again and again Jones swung, first with right hand and then with his left, hoping to knock me down again; but my training had been too varied and complete and the knock-down blow had taught me the necessary caution. I ducked his swings, or side-stepped them and hit him right and left in the face till suddenly his nose began to bleed, and Stackpole cried out behind me in huge excitement: «That's the way, that's the way; keep on peppering him.» As I turned to smile at him, I found that a lot of the fags, former chums of mine, had come round to my corner and now were all smiling encouragement at me and bold exhortations to «give it him hard.» I then realized for the first time that I had only to keep on and be careful and the victory would be mine. A cold, hard exultation took the place of nervous excitement in me, and when I struck, I tried to cut with my knuckles, as Raleigh had once shown me. The bleeding of Jones' nose took some time to stop and as soon as he came into the middle of the ring, I started it again with another righthander. After this round his seconds and backers kept him so long in his corner that at length, on Stackpole's whispered advice, I went over and said to him:
«Either fight or give in: I'm catching cold.» He came out at once and rushed at me full of fight, but his face was all one bruise and his left eye nearly closed. Every chance I got, I struck at the right eye till it was in an even worse condition. It is strange to me since that I never once felt pity for him and offered to stop: the truth is, he had bullied me so relentlessly and continually, had wounded my pride so often in public that even at the end I was filled with cold rage against him. I noticed everything: I saw that a couple of the sixth went away towards the school-house and afterwards returned with Shaddy, the second master. As they came round the haystack, Jones came out into the ring; he struck savagely right and left as I came within striking distance, but I slipped in outside his weaker left and hit him as hard as I could, first right, then left on the chin and down he went on his back. At once there was a squeal of applause from the little fellows in my corner and I saw that Stackpole had joined Shaddy near Jones' corner. Suddenly Shaddy came right up to the ringside and spoke, to my astonishment, with a certain dignity. «This fight must stop now,» he said loudly. «If another blow is struck or word said, I'll report the disobedience to the Doctor.» Without a word I went and put on my coat and waistcoat and collar, while his friends of the sixth escorted Jones to the schoolhouse. I had never had so many friends and admirers in my life as came up to me then to congratulate me and testify to their admiration and good will. The whole lower school was on my side, it appeared, and had been from the outset, and one or two of the sixth, Herbert in especial, came over and praised me warmly. «A great fight,» said Herbert, «and now perhaps we'll have less bullying; at any rate,» he added humorously, «no one will want to bully you: you're a pocket professional; where did you learn to box?» I had sense enough to smile and keep my own counsel. Jones didn't appear in school that night: indeed, for days after he was kept in sick bay upstairs. The fags and lower school boys brought me all sorts of stories how the doctor had come and said «he feared erysipelas; the bruises were so large and Jones must stay in bed and in the dark!» and a host of other details. One thing was quite clear; my position in the school was radically changed.
Stackpole spoke to the Doctor and I got a seat by myself in his classroom and only went to the form-master for special lessons;
Stackpole became more than ever my teacher and friend. When Jones first appeared in the school, we met in the sixth room while waiting for the Doctor to come in. I was talking with Herbert; Jones came in and nodded to me: I went over and held out my hands but said nothing.
Herbert's nod and smile showed me I had done right. «Bygones should be bygones,» he said in English fashion. I wrote the whole story to Vernon that night, thanking him, you may be sure, and Raleigh for the training and encouragement they had given me. My whole outlook on life was permanently altered: I was cock-a-hoop and happy. One night I got thinking of E… and for the first time in months practiced onanism. But next day I felt heavy and resolved that belief or no belief, self-restraint was a good thing for the health. All the next Christmas holidays spent in Rhyl I tried to get intimate with some girl, but failed. As soon as I tried to touch even their breasts, they drew away. I liked girls fully formed and they all thought, I suppose, that I was too young and too small: if they had only known! One more incident belongs in this thirteenth year and is worthy perhaps of record. Freed of the
