The K.O.

Short Story:

By C. S. Ramsay

NEVER before had the hotel of ‘KO’

Joe Smithson looked so good to Jack Gordon. He fought his way across the beach road against the buffet ings of the wind, savouring the feel of solid land—it surely had been a rough trip.

But he paused at the double swing doors for a last look at his cutter as she lay riding easily in the rain-swept bay.

A wonderful boat, the Onelua. A regu lar water-witch, in any man’s weather.

They were lucky to have made it, all the same. The low-flying scud deepened the dusk as he entered the bar and set his bag on the floor.

“Hello-hello! Look what the storm’s blown in!” came in a bull-throated roar from Joe Smithson, one-eyed, late of Manhattan and points west, as he leaned over the bar to grasp Gordon’s hand.

“A sure-fire case for Doctor Joe, young fella, and the prescription is a double rum with a dash of rum.” A bottle and glass appeared on the polished bar.

“Gargle tyhat, me lad, an’ feel those shivers quit you so fast you’ll never be lieve you had ’em. Gee! But I’m glad to see you boy! But say, how’d you come in? I never thought even you’d be crazy enough to stick your nose outside that little harbour of yours in this weather. Anything wrong at the little grey home in the west? Plantation hands gone on strike? Come on your own boat?”

Gordon smiled. “To your first I answer —on a boat. To the second and third, the answer is in the negative. To the last, an emphatic yes. And the Onelua is the only craft around here that could have made it.”

“Yeah, you’d better not let old Cap.

Dighton hear you blow like that. He reckons that crate of his, the Teaupa, is the slickest thing afloat.”

“The Onelua and the Teaupa are go ing to argue it out one of these days— I hope. I was making for Cap. Dighton’s place when this blow came up, and I had to run for it here.”

“Uh-huh. I heard you been snoopin’ round those parts of late. Not that I blame you either. That little daughter of his sure is the whole bottle of eye lotion with label and stopper thrown in.

And no directions needed. She makes me miss my other optic real bad every time she comes in.”

“Lay-off, you old blighter—lay off."

Gordon’s hand flashed out in a snap at the other’s cauliflower ear. Joe’s body moved not an inch as he threw his head to one side and let the blow skim harmlessly past.

“Try a coupla hooks, brother, an’ you’ll still miss. But say, quit foolin’ an’ come an’ get those wet duds off. You’re in 14. An’ when you get thru bathin’ an’ eatin’ I wanna have a spiel with you.”

“Anything serious, Joe?”

“Quit hazin’ me. I’ll tell you later.”

LATER, bathed, shaved, dry clothes without and a good dinner within, Gordon made his way to ‘KO’s’ sanctum.

Joe was out but Gordon entered and sank into one of Joe’s —to use his own expression super-de-luxe come-hither chairs. He let his gaze travel around the well-known series of boxing photo graphs lining the walls. Joe’s gimlet eyes lit with the light of battle, and the confidence of youth glared pugnaciously from each, as though to substantiate his boast that the decision had never gone against him on a knock-out.

The neat, well-appointed desk, the metal filing-cabinet, and book-case filled with expensively bound books, disclosed a side to his character known only to his intimate friends. Gordon smiled as he re called the rough exterior the ex-boxer offered for the world’s inspection. A great fellow, ‘KG’, and one who would go through fire and water to help a pal.

But God help anyone so foolish as to incur his enmity.

Quick, jaunty footsteps sounded with out, and Joe’s sergeant-major voice rang out: “Sa’ilv whisky, soda, an’ glasses here, quicker’n quick.”

He entered, pulled up a chair to face his friend, stuck a cigar into the western corner of his mouth, rolled it with his tongue to the north, lit it and began: “Listen, guy, I gotta whole lotta spiel, an’ not much time. Gettin’ back to Cap.

Dighton. Somethin’s in the wind, an’

I wanted to see you. That’s why me clock registered pleased surprise when you came in this evening.”

“A coupla guys comes in yesterday an’ asks fer a double room. A brace a boids I didn’t cotton to much. One of ’em middle-aged, with a kinda sea-farin’ cut about him. Registered under the name of Capt. Howard. The other’s a young guy, more’n a bit of a dude, an’ calls himself Morgan Hawthorne.”

“Hawthorne Morgan Hawthorne?”

Gordon broke in. “Now where did I—?

Oh! I’ve got it. Saw it in a southern paper that the heir to the Hawthorne millions was making an extended tour of the Islands. Must be him. Sorry—go on.”

(Continued on Page 61)

“Well, I fixed ’em in No. 12, right above this. Last night as I was settin’ here figurin’ me absentee profits, I heard ’em come out on the balcony. It was Cap. that roped in me thoughts with a jerk, an’ the mention of a friend’s name always makes me stop, look, an’ eavesdrop if I can. Especially this time when the older guy says—by the way, he didn’t talk pure English like I do, but I’ll tell it in me own way. He says: ‘But man alive, you’ve only seen her once. It‘s like buyin’ a pig in a poke. Oh! I don’t doubt you can put it over on the girl. You always can when you lay yourself out to knock ’em over. But it’s the old man you gotta take into account, an’ from what I’ve heard you’ll never get his consent. The talk around here has it that he’d rather part with his heart an’ liver than part with her.’

“That was enough to set me old lugs tinglin’, so, as I was scared they’d jimmy that someone was in this room, I stumped across to the door, switched off the glim, slammed the door, an’ tiptoed back an’ outside ’s quick ’s a cat afore dogs. Nothin’ was said for a bit, but I could hear a tappin’ on the balcony rail like a guy does when he’s tryin’ to get his grey-matter to start tickin.”

“Then the young fellow Hawthorne opened up kinda haw-haw: “But Charlie, old boy, what’s the alternative? Surely with persuasion and sufficient induce ment he’ll agree. We can’t just go and grab her. The jolly old cave-man-cum bold-buccaneer stuff is frightfully out of date and all that. What?”’

The glasses were filled and sampled, and Gordon said: “Joe, old man, this

is mighty interesting. I’m more than glad now that I came. Yes, what happened then?”

“fWell, the sea-farin’ guy lets outa kinda groan an’ says: ‘Let’s get inside an’ thrash this out. Too public out here.’

Knowin’ I couldn’t hear no more from where I stood, I skips up to my room, kicks off me daisy roots, and shines inta No. 14 next-door. I didn’t like riskin’ bein’ caught standin’ with the nosey parker ear on the balcony, so I drapes meself as far out over the window-sill as I could, an’ listened so hard it hurt.

“I heard ’em garglin’ some hooch, then Charlie’s growl again, an’ then he goes on the air: ‘Now listen, Morgan, if you hadn’t lost your head like you have, you might be able to think this out an’ face the facts. To my mind there’s nothin’ on land or water what’s worth gettin’ all hot an’ bothered over, an’ I just can’t figure what’s hit you. Here’s you com pletely lost your nut over this little hooker, but you don’t know nothin’ about her. Granted she looks pretty enough all dolled up with paint an’ trimmin’s

but what’s she goin’ to be like when the squalls come up? Life ain’t all sun shine an’ fair winds. An’ when you get her. how long you goin’ ta be crazy over her? I’ll lay odds right now you wanna be shut of her within a ’twelvemonth.

You always been a spoilt brat with too much money, an’ I’m tired of gettin’ you outa trouble.’

“Then the young dude gets on a kinda sob note an’ begs the other guy not to leave him to the job, and says he’s made up his mind, an’ nothin’ ain’t goin’ ta stop him if he can help it, no matter what the cost.”

“I think I’ll borrow your pet expression an say ‘Oh yeah’,” interjected Gordon, grimly.

“Yeah, an’ if ‘KO’ Joe Smithson has anythin’ of an excuse ta make ta Peter at the Pearly Gates, it’ll be that he never yet let down a pal. I’m with you pard, but wait—you ain’t heard nothin’ yet.

“Blast me if the old rooster didn’t come out with a line of stuff tha£—well, here it is, an’ keep a holda yourself. He says:

‘Oh, alright, have it your own way. You always have had it, an’ you always will till you get a knife in your guts or some thin’ for some fool stunt. Now listen.

While you been moonin’ round like an orphaned calf, I been doin’ some snoop in’. I’ve found the old man’s away in Tutu’ila till Friday. This is Monday, an’ we got plenty of time. I’ve found a cutter we can charter on Wednesday morning.

We can get to their place by late after noon. We then go ashore, an’ you has a session with the gal, an’ it’s up ta you ta persuade her. If you can put it over on her, we can go aboard right away, an’ leave before dark. If not, then we gotta use some . . .’

“An’’ then, blast it, if that damn win dow didn’t come right down with a rattle on me back an’ ketch me with both feet off the floor inside the room, an’ me mitts not reachin’ ta the balcony floor on the outside. I tell you, if them guys had come out ta see what was the clatter, I’d a looked worse ’n a Peepin’ Tom caught in a Nudist Colony. But all that happened was they shut right up, an’ I couldn’t hear another word. An’ as for me, I just lay doggo an’ sweated worse ’n a pig for about five hours. Or so it seemed like to me. Then I managed ta get the cock-eyed window up far enough for me ta go inta reverse.”

Before Joe had finished Gordon was on his feet, fire in his eye.

“The dirty skunks! That sounds as though they figure that if Sylvia Dighton won’t elope with them, they’re going to use force. By hell, they can’t get away with that!”

“Now, Jack, me son, keep your wool on.

I got the answer to this all pat as soon as I set eyes on you to-night. This storm’s blowin’ itself out, an’ you an’ me’s gonna get an early start on the Onelua an’ be there waitin’ for them.

An’ is it just a shame (or is it a shame?) how me ’n you’s gonna give them kidnappin’ kykes the proper KO.

Meanwhile there ain’t nothin’ gonna happen ta the girl-friend, so you have another snifter of that hooch, an’ go an’ get some sleep. An’ I said sleep.”

VT/OON of the following day saw the Onelua come neatly into the wind and drop anchor at the Dighton plantation, a cable’s length from the Captain’s spick and span Teaupa, riding gracefully at her moorings. A lithe, golden-haired figure in white left the house and ran down the path to the beach. It was followed, to the amaze ment of the two friends aboard, by a short, stocky form moving at a more leisurely pace, and a stentorian hail came across the water.

Joe’s one eye screwed to a slit. “Wa-al, if that ain’t old Cap. Dighton himself!

So he didn’t go to Tutu’ila after all!

What d’ya know about that? Now, if that ain’t a bit of luck I’ll chew my stetson!”

As they stepped from the dinghy on to the beach Cap. Dighton seized Joe in a bear’s hug, beating him on the back with clenched fists.

“Well-well-well, if this isn’t a pleasant surprise! The great ‘KO’ himself. How the heck did you manage to leave that hotel of yours? Will it stand up on its own? Hello, Gordon, how’s things?”

“Now then, Cap.” appealed Joe, “if you’ll quit mistakin’ me for a drum an’ come outa that clinch an’ lead us nicely by the hand to the house like the best folks deserve, I’ll try an’ tell you why we’re here—if you’ll keep still long enough. Meantime get one of your boys to keep an eye windward. There’s an

other boat behind us. Miss Dighton, if you’ll be kind enough to order this wild man off me chest, I’ll shake you by your pretty hand.”

On the cool verandah of the Dighton home, after Joe’s recital, Captain Dighton’s language was up to the stand ard of the best of sea-dogs at times of crisis. His daughter fled at the open ing words.

Joe quietly handed the Captain a full glass. “Now Cap., drink that an’ keep quiet for a bit, an’ I’ll tell what we’ll do.

First off, Gordon sends his boys with the Onelua round the point outa sight. When the pair shows up, Miss Dighton can meet ’em on the front steps, invite ’em in, an’ lead ’em round to the other side of the|house, where we’ll be settin’. After that it’s your house, your show, your boots, an’ my mitts. Gordon can be referee. How’s that for a set-up?”

“It suits me fine,*’ replied Dighton.

“And they can’t come too soon for me.”

A LITTLE later Sail-ho was sounded by the boy on the look-out, and by late afternoon a cutter’s chain rattled out at the anchorage.

Cap. Dighton peered through the creeper festooning the verandah. “That’s them alright, the blasted ...”

“Now, Father,” said the girl, “just go and sit quietly, and leave matters to me for a bit. Your turn will come.”

The three men seated themselves at the side of the house as voices sounded on the front steps. They heard Sylvia Dighton greet the men and invite them in, then footsteps as they approached.

Surprise was written plain on the faces of Hawthorne and his friend How ard as their eyes lit upon the scowling group before them. The younger man quickly recovered his poise and advanced with outstretched hand to Cap. Dighton, who by now was on his feet and glower ing darkly.

“Captain Dighton, this is an unex pected pleasure for us to find you home.”

Dighton took a threatening step for ward and snarled: “Oh yes? And what do you mean by coming to my home if you did not expect to find me here? Come on—out with what’s your little game—the pair of you?”

Taken aback, the young man stam (Continned Next Page)

mered, “But—but Captain Dighton, this is rather an unorthodox kind of greet ing ”

“Greeting! What the hell kind d’you expect—you blasted flash crook! Think yourself lucky I don’t take hold of you and rip you in two! You think you can come sneaking round here with your stinking millions and dazzle my girl’s eyes, eh? I’ll show you—you bloody kid napping tyke. Ah-h-h-h! Get out of here before I forget there’s a lady present.”

Utter bewilderment showed for a mo ment on the young man’s face, followed by a flush of quick anger. Advancing a pace he retorted hotly: “Kidnapping!

Girl! Why, man alive, you’re crazy—or drunk! Now let me tell you something Our sole object in coming here was to offer £5OO over market value for the “Teaupa”. Needless to add, that offer now will not be made —and, a very good day to you. Howard, we’re leaving.”

Key JOE SMITHSON gasped, swal lowed hard, and turned to Gordon with a hoarse whisper; “Holy suf ferin’ cats! KO’d in the first round!

Let’s beat it outa here before Cap.

Dighton comes outa his trance!”