when god laughs and other stories(当上帝发笑时)-第36节
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with fierce rally on top of fierce rally； beaten to the ropes and in turn
beating his opponent to the ropes； and rallying fiercest and fastest of all in
that last； twentieth round； with the house on its feet and yelling； himself
rushing； striking； ducking； raining showers of blows upon showers of
blows and receiving showers of blows in return； and all the time the heart
faithfully pumping the surging blood through the adequate veins。 The
veins； swollen at the time； had always shrunk down again； though each
time； imperceptibly at first； not quiteremaining just a trifle larger than
before。 He stared at them and at his battered knuckles； and； for the
moment； caught a vision of the youthful excellence of those hands before
the first knuckle had been smashed on the head of Benny Jones； otherwise
known as the Welsh Terror。
The impression of his hunger came back on him。
〃Blimey； but couldn't I go a piece of steak！〃 he muttered aloud；
clenching his huge fists and spitting out a smothered oath。
〃I tried both Burke's an' Sawley's；〃 his wife said half apologetically。
〃An' they wouldn't？〃 he demanded。
〃Not a ha'penny。 Burke said〃 She faltered。
〃G'wan！ Wot'd he say？〃
〃As how 'e was thinkin' Sandel ud do ye to…night； an' as how yer score
was comfortable big as it was。〃
Tom King grunted； but did not reply。 He was busy thinking of the
bull terrier he had kept in his younger days to which he had fed steaks
without end。 Burke would have given him credit for a thousand steaks
then。 But times had changed。 Tom King was getting old； and old men；
fighting before second…rate clubs； couldn't expect to run bills of any size
with the tradesmen。
He had got up in the morning with a longing for a piece of steak； and
the longing had not abated。 He had not had a fair training for this fight。
It was a drought year in Australia； times were hard； and even the most
irregular work was difficult to find。 He had had no sparring partner； and
his food had not been of the best nor always sufficient。 He had done a
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few days' navvy work when he could get it； and he had run around the
Domain in the early mornings to get his legs in shape。 But it was hard；
training without a partner and with a wife and two kiddies that must be fed。
Credit with the tradesmen had undergone very slight expansion when he
was matched with Sandel。 The secretary of the Gayety Club had
advanced him three poundsthe loser's end of the purseand beyond that
had refused to go。 Now and again he had managed to borrow a few
shillings from old pals； who would have lent more only that it was a
drought year and they were hard put themselves。 Noand there was no
use in disguising the facthis training had not been satisfactory。 He
should have had better food and no worries。 Besides； when a man is forty；
it is harder to get into condition than when he is twenty。
〃What time is it； Lizzie？〃 he asked。
His wife went across the hall to inquire； and came back。
〃Quarter before eight。〃
〃They'll be startin' the first bout in a few minutes；〃 he said。 〃Only a
try…out。 Then there's a four…round spar 'tween Dealer Wells an' Gridley；
an' a ten…round go 'tween Starlight an' some sailor bloke。 I don't come on
for over an hour。〃
At the end of another silent ten minutes； he rose to his feet。
〃Truth is； Lizzie； I ain't had proper trainin'。〃
He reached for his hat and started for the door。 He did not offer to
kiss herhe never did on going outbut on this night she dared to kiss him；
throwing her arms around him and compelling him to bend down to her
face。 She looked quite small against the massive bulk of the man。
〃Good luck； Tom；〃 she said。 〃You gotter do 'im。〃
〃Ay； I gotter do 'im；〃 he repeated。 〃That's all there is to it。 I jus'
gotter do 'im。〃
He laughed with an attempt at heartiness； while she pressed more
closely against him。 Across her shoulders he looked around the bare
room。 It was all he had in the world； with the rent overdue； and her and
the kiddies。 And he was leaving it to go out into the night to get meat for
his mate and cubsnot like a modern working…man going to his machine
grind； but in the old； primitive； royal； animal way； by fighting for it。
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〃I gotter do 'im；〃 he repeated； this time a hint of desperation in his
voice。 〃If it's a win； it's thirty quidan' I can pay all that's owin'； with a
lump o' money left over。 If it's a lose； I get naughtnot even a penny for
me to ride home on the tram。 The secretary's give all that's comin' from a
loser's end。 Good…bye； old woman。 I'll come straight home if it's a
win。〃
〃An' I'll be waitin' up；〃 she called to him along the hall。
It was full two miles to the Gayety； and as he walked along he
remembered how in his palmy dayshe had once been the heavyweight
champion of New South Waleshe would have ridden in a cab to the fight；
and how； most likely； some heavy backer would have paid for the cab and
ridden with him。 There were Tommy Burns and that Yankee nigger； Jack
Johnsonthey rode about in motor…cars。 And he walked！ And； as any
man knew； a hard two miles was not the best preliminary to a fight。 He
was an old un； and the world did not wag well with old uns。 He was
good for nothing now except navvy work； and his broken nose and
swollen ear were against him even in that。 He found himself wishing that
he had learned a trade。 It would have been better in the long run。 But
no one had told him； and he knew； deep down in his heart； that he would
not have listened if they had。 It had been so easy。 Big moneysharp；
glorious fightsperiods of rest and loafing in betweena following of
eager flatterers； the slaps on the back； the shakes of the hand； the toffs glad
to buy him a drink for the privilege of five minutes' talkand the glory of
it； the yelling houses； the whirlwind finish； the referee's 〃King wins！〃 and
his name in the sporting columns next day。
Those had been times！ But he realized now； in his slow； ruminating
way； that it was the old uns he had been putting away。 He was Youth；
rising； and they were Age； sinking。 No wonder it had been easythey
with their swollen veins and battered knuckles and weary in the bones of
them from the long battles they had already fought。 He remembered the
time he put out old Stowsher Bill； at Rush…Cutters Bay； in the eighteenth
round； and how old Bill had cried afterward in the dressing…room like a
baby。 Perhaps old Bill's rent had been overdue。 Perhaps he'd had at
home a missus an' a couple of kiddies。 And perhaps Bill； that very day of
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the fight； had had a hungering for a piece of steak。 Bill had fought game
and taken incredible punishment。 He could see now； after he had gone
through the mill himself； that Stowsher Bill had fought for a bigger stake；
that night twenty years ago； than had young Tom King； who had fought for
glory and easy money。 No wonder Stowsher Bill had cried afterward in
the dressing…room。
Well； a man had only so many fights in him； to begin with。 It was the
iron law of the game。 One man might have a hundred hard fights in him；
another man only twenty； each； according to the make of him and the
quality of his fibre； had a definite number； and； when he had fought them；
he was done。 Yes； he had had more fights in him than most of them； and he
had had far more than his share of the hard； gruelling fig
