Innocent on the Run

Innocent on the Run By Deric Barry A young lad’s first trip to sea turns into a disaster when his ship sails without him, leaving him stranded in America. A string of misfortunes including kidnap, bank robbery, attempted murder and shipwreck follow him as he tries to get back home to the United Kingdom. Copyright 2005 by Deric Barry All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the copyright owner. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Chapter 1. Ricky jabbed with his left fist then crossed with his right. The right hander landed on his opponents jaw and the lad staggered backwards. Ricky was on him in a flash, pummelling his body with quick lefts and rights. His opponent was on the ropes covering up as best he could as Ricky slammed the punches home, scoring every time. The referee hovered around the fighters watching intently as the boy on the ropes tried to avoid further punishment. The bell suddenly rang out to end round two and the referee’s arm came down in between the boxers. ‘Stop,’ he shouted. Ricky stepped back and went to his corner. He slumped down on the stool breathing heavily and his second flapped a towel in his face. He sloshed the wet sponge on Ricky’s face and handed him the bottle to rinse his mouth out. ‘That’s one round each,’ the second said, pulling Ricky’s shorts away from his stomach to assist his breathing. ‘Keep up the pressure in the last round and you’ll win it.’ Ricky nodded and spat water into the bucket outside of the ring. ‘He’s tiring,’ the second went on. ‘His punches have lost their sting. Get to the centre of the ring and make him do the running around. ‘Okay,’ Ricky answered. The timekeeper called, ‘Seconds out of the ring. Third and 4 last round.’ Ricky’s second slid out of the ring under the top rope as the bell rang to start the last round. The boxers met in the centre of the ring and touched gloves. The referee called out, ‘Box.’ Ricky led with his left, his opponent blocked it with his right hand and shot his own left out towards Rick’s head. Ricky slipped it over his left shoulder and hooked him to the body with his left. His opponent danced away and Ricky gained the centre of the ring. His opponent danced back in and threw two lefts in succession followed by a right which Ricky blocked with his left then countered with a right into the other boy’s body. The boy bent forward slightly to lessen the blow’s impact and Ricky sent a crashing left hook over the top of the boy’s guard. It caught him on the point of the jaw and he staggered sideways under the force of the blow. Ricky leapt at him and crashed a right hand into his head. The boy’s legs buckled and he dropped to his knees. The referee danced in between the boxers and stopped Ricky by putting an arm up in front of him. As the boy got to his feet, the referee looked at him closely and waved him back to his corner, knowing that the lad had had enough, and to continue would have meant further punishment for him. The fight was over! Ricky leaped into the air waving his arms in triumph as the crowd cheered and stamped their feet. Ricky’s second congratulated him as he handed him a towel to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. ‘Great last round,’ he said, starting to untie Ricky’s gloves. 5 Ricky grinned. ‘I’m glad it didn’t go on any longer,’ he panted. ‘I’d almost had it myself.’ The referee called the boxers to the centre of the ring and stood them on either side of him. When the applause and noise had died down a little, the Master of Ceremonies announced, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen. By a technical knockout in the third round, the winner is Davies in the blue corner.’ The crowd roared as Ricky’s hand was held aloft by the referee. His team were boxing in the inter-club championships against clubs from all across South Wales. Ricky’s club was the Barry Boys’ Club and he’d been training there since he was eleven years old. He was now fifteen in the year 1951, and he was a lightweight. Still panting from exertion, Ricky joined his team mates at the back of the hall. Brian Proctor, his best mate laughed. ‘Nice going, Rick.’ He slapped Ricky on the back. Brian had fought in the bout before Ricky’s and had out pointed his opponent. They watched the rest of the bouts, cheering their team mates on, yelling like mad when they won, commiserating with the fighter when he lost. At the end of the competition, points were tallied up and the prizes awarded. Barry Boy’s Club had come a respectable third overall, which they thought was an excellent result, as seven clubs had taken part.