We took off our coats and were ready. There was no swearing or barracking.
It seemed an understood thing with the men that if I went out first round
Jack would fight Romany; and if Jack knocked him out somebody else
would fight Jack to square matters. Jim Bullock wouldn't mind
obliging for one; he was a mate of Jack's, but he didn't mind who he fought
so long as it was for the sake of fair play -- or `peace and quietness',
as he said. Jim was very good-natured. He backed Romany,
and of course Jack backed me.

As far as I could see, all Romany knew about fighting was to jerk one arm
up in front of his face and duck his head by way of a feint, and then
rush and lunge out. But he had the weight and strength and length of reach,
and my first lesson was a very short one. I went down early in the round.
But it did me good; the blow and the look I'd seen in Romany's eyes
knocked all the sentiment out of me. Jack said nothing, --
he seemed to regard it as a hopeless job from the first.
Next round I tried to remember some things Jack had told me,
and made a better show, but I went down in the end.

I felt Jack breathing quick and trembling as he lifted me up.

`How are you, Joe?' he whispered.

`I'm all right,' I said.

`It's all right,' whispered Jack in a voice as if I was going to be hanged,
but it would soon be all over. `He can't use his hands much more
than you can -- take your time, Joe -- try to remember something I told you,
for God's sake!'