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“WELCOME THE TRAVELLER”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

By i

ARTHUR HARDY.

CHAPTER XXV. With the arrival of Billy Chipham, Fred Thornton. Freddy Devene and Andy Sagar at Wood Cottage as sparring partners, Robert and Dan began their training in earnest. Daniel Shelton watched the work of Robert and Dan with keen appraising eyes. Daniel was not only elated at having at last made Robert Berry take the plunge into big money boxing, but he saw with delight a daily improvement in Dan as a result of these two boxing together regularly. Dan began to carry his left hand higher than he used to do, he kept a better guard because he had to, he moved around the ring at great speed and he began to snap home his punches with the same certainty that Robert showed. He began to aim at the body too, although he had not, as yet, Robert’s complete catalogue of punches at his command. Every Sunday Jessie Capstow drove Nora from London to Tansworth in her car and, wet or shine, they found Robert in the farm car waiting outside Traveller's Buildings to drive Nora I straight up to’Wood Farm. Nora’s stay in London had wrought an astonishing change in her. Where formerly she had been just another pretty country girl with a bright smile and pleasing manners, she was now radiant, wore smart clothes, neat shoes, the latest hat fashions, and her hair had been cut and “permed” in a natural way that suited her admirably. Her happy laughter pealed like the note of a silver bell. She linked arms with Robert and nestled close to him.

“Bobs,” she said. “I am so happy. All that mother suppressed and put aside when she married dad is coming out in me, I think. Mother could play and sing and act so splendidly, but her talent was wasted. I love the theatre. Jessie is sure I shall make good. She’s the sweetest, most unselfish, least jealous being I ever knew. I am to appear in the revue next Monday with a new song and dance, and a scene is being written for me which will be included later.”

Robert glanced at Jessie, who looked as happy as Nora. “Nora is going to make a hit,” Jessie predicted. “The scene is to be a Watteau idyll. Claude' Roland is to sing a duet with her and they are going to dance. It’s grand.” “You are .not afraid of competition, Jess,” remarked Robert as they strolled together to the private door beside Capstow’s shop. • s . “Competition! I like it. It keeps one wide awake. Besides Nora and I would never clash. She’s just a lovely Dresden, china figure, not like me, crude and noisy, a piece of Staffordshire.”

Nora stayed at the farm that night and Tom Shulgra’ve looked in. When Jessie came in the car to fetch Nora on Monday morning at nine o’clock, there being a rehearsal fixed for eleven o’clock at the London Theatre, Robert begged Nora to let him know the night she would be playing in the new scene. “It is difficult for me to get away from here, but whatever happens,” he said, “I shan’t miss that.” “You shall know,” his sister promised.

The promised news came during Robert’s last week of training. The new scene had been thoroughly rehearsed and Nora was in raptures over it. “Claude Roland and I are playing it next Monday night,” she said. “It is such a clever and fantastic act that I am hoping my inexperience will not ruin it. But my song and dance have gone over splendidly.” The orchestra was playing the short overture when the three Tansworth men passed to their seats in the stalls. The theatre was packed. News of the boxer’s presence had spread and as they came a thunder of applause shook the house. “Good old Dan —Good old Bob”—but most of the shouts wore for Dan.

An empty stage showed a modern room. A girl entered and began to dust the furniture. Suddenly a Chelsea china figure slipped out of her fingers and broke upon the hearth. Brok-en-hearted, she carried the pieces to a table and set them down there. Through the centre door came Claude Roland, her master, a connoisseur, tn pantomime the man and the maid played an explanatory scene. He brought her some china cement, sat down beside her, and together they mended the figure until it was whole again, and the maid set it gently back upon the mantlepiece once more.

The lights’faded, the scene changed, now showing a moonlit garden, treeclad and beautiful, with stone figures set among the green. Upon a shelving bank some Watteau shepherds and shepherdesses were playing soft music. Into the moonlit glade came the Chelsea china figures, no longer small, but life size, a man and a maid.

The duet that followed was lovely, simple, melodious. Nora's small, but sweet voice that reminded Robert vividly of his mother’s, blending exquisitely with Claude Roland’s rich baritone, the charming scene, ending with a stately dance. The effect of the little play was magical. Again and again Nora and Claude Roland had to bow to the applauding house, whilst cheers rang above the loud clapping. "She's grand,” shouted Dan.

At noon the next day Nora and Jessie, calling at the hotel together, burst into the private sitting-room where Daniel and Dan/and Robert were resting.

“Oh, Bob,” said Nora, “I could not get here earlier because the manager wanted to see me at the theatre. Some; of the directors were there. My con-1 tract was for ten pounds a week, but I they have doubled it.. lam to get twenty pounds a week with extra pay

for matinees. John will, soon be out of his troubles now, for I mean to let him have ten pounds a week until he has paid off all his debts at the Mill Street garage.”

The dramatic critics were unanimous in their praise of the new scene Broken China in the Wide World Revue. A new star had arisen. In a single night Nora had achieved fame as Jessie Capstow had always said it would be, if ever she had a chance. Robert could not have wished for a greater encouragement than that for his fight with bulky Soldier Flynn. He looked quietly confidently when he left the hotel with Dan for the New Arena on Wednesday night. Tomorrow he would be two hundred pounds the richer. Nora had started on a promising career, the shadow of impending failure no longer haunted Wood Farm; truly a magical change had come over the fortunes of the Berrys.

Neither Nora nor Jessie would be at the ringside tonight. Duty called at the theatre. But they sent telegrams of good luck. They found Andy Sagar in the dressing room with all their gear set out in order.

Dan Shelton and Mike McGinty were to enter the ring at half past nine punctually, for the fight was to be broadcast. Robert was timed to fight Soldier Flynn at half past eight. There was plenty of time, but Robert began to strip at once and don his socks, his ring shoes and his shorts. He felt curiously at his ease. But without warning a wave of nervousness assailed him, gripping at his heart, pushing a lump into his throat, making his 'mouth dry. Odd that he should feel completely at ease one moment and as nervous as a scalded .cat the next. Robert had never shunned a fight, indeed had often gone joyfully into one, but always, while waiting, he had felt scared like that. Tension born of waiting, of course, suspense, enforced inaction, the wish to get it over. He felt relieved when, after what seemed an eternity of time, the call came. Daniel Shelton, Freddy Devene and Thornton accompanied him, leaving Billy Chipham and Andy Sagar to look after Dan, at whose dressing room door a policeman had been stationed. CHAPTER XVI. An excited shout shook the great stadium as Robert passed along a passage between the seats to the ring and climbed the steps. At the same time Soldier Flynn/wearing a gaudy dressing gown, with a troop of seconds at his heels, approaching the ring from the other side and ducked under the ropes.

He was a huge man who towered above Robert, tall though Berry was. His broad face was stretched in a good natured smile as he waved his hands to the clamouring audience, then turned and held out a hand like a ham for Robert to shake. Deep set, blue eyes, peered pleasantly at Berry over the edge of high protruding, cheek bones. “How do, Bob,” he said thickly. “Glad to know yer. Hope we have a grand fight.” . Robert gripped the proffered hand graciously, smiled back and went to his stool feeling that he liked the herculean and friendly soldier. Flynn’s ring record was a mixed one. For a year Flynn had cleaned up every heavy weight with whom he had fought. Then came a lapse when O’Connor had beaten him sensationally in three rounds. O’Connor, in his turn, had lasted only five rounds against Dan Shelton. Soldier Flynn had since been beaten by Harry Coram, Walter Devey and Young Peter Jackson, all on points. In his last fight he had beaten Sam Sherman, a dangerous fighter, in one round. Flynn was a swinger who fought round armed like a sailor, crude but plucky, aiid the public adored him. “Eat ’im, Soldier," shouted a man in the cheaper seats, raising a roar of laughter in which both Flynn and Robert joined.

As Robert held out his hands for the bandaging he grinned across the ring at Flynn. The soldier was leaning back on his stool, his dressing gown gaping open and revealing a huge body ridged with layers of muscle and fat. He was the type who make flesh quickly and need .to be constantly at work to keep their weight in bounds. Good natured, fond of company and self indulgent between fights without a doubt, he was not of the granite stuff out of which real champions are made. The preliminaries disposed of, the gloves pulled on, the robes were discarded and the referee called up the fighters, warned them to break at the call, to observe the rules,’and above all to fight clean, and they were back in their corners again, hands on the top rope, waiting. “Seconds out?’ . 1 " !

Robert took one last swift glance at the Soldier and decided that Flynn was at least four and twenty pounds too heavy, noticed his opponent’s enormous arms and strong legs, and then the bell rang. Straight away Flynn shaved the top of Robert’s head with a wild right armed swing that made the glove whistle through the air. Losing his balance through the clumsy effort, he clutched hold of Robert and swung his freed right arm at the body.. Berry stopped the blow, eased himself away, and stepped clear. Flynn rushed, was short, and Robert, on his toes, beautifully balanced, tapped the Soldier on the nose lightly with the left, covered, tapped again; and again, and once more, reaching out, one, two, three, four, always stepping away, that twelve inches out of distance that meant so much. Flynn could not get at him.

The Soldier’s lips tightened grimly. After each punch he sniffed. He crouched, weaving in, looking for an opening.

Slowly they circled round and, tap, home went Robert’s left glove smack on the nose. So far there had not been much sting in tne punches. Berry was measuring his distance, that was all, laying a trap into which the Soldier was to fall.

(To be Continued).

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/WAITA19390929.2.111

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Wairarapa Times-Age, 29 September 1939, Page 10

Word count
Tapeke kupu
1,956

“WELCOME THE TRAVELLER” Wairarapa Times-Age, 29 September 1939, Page 10

“WELCOME THE TRAVELLER” Wairarapa Times-Age, 29 September 1939, Page 10

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