Twice a week regularly I betook
myself to the captain's little cottage on the Wem road, and spent
an hour with him in mastering the principles and practice of what
he called the noble arts of self defense. He was pleased to say
that I was quick of eye and nimble of body, and, being on my side
very eager to learn, I was speedily in his good books, and he
seemed to take a special pleasure in teaching me.
At first I found our bouts at fisticuffs a severe tax. The captain,
though well on in years, was still hale and active, and, being tall
and spare, he had a great advantage of me. With the long reach of
his arms he could pummel me without giving me the least chance of
reprisal, and many's the day I crawled home after our encounters
bruised and sore, provoking indignant remonstrances from Mistress
Pennyquick. But I refused to let her coddle me, and as my appetite
never failed, and I throve amazingly, the good woman at last ceased
to lament, and, as I discovered, was wont behind my back to vaunt
my growing manliness.
By the time I was fifteen I was as tall as the captain himself, and
then my share of bruises ceased to be so disproportionate. In
skill, whether with the fists or the foils, he was always vastly my
superior; indeed, to this day I have never met his equal. But I had
youth on my side, and sometimes the old man at the end of a
particularly arduous bout would sigh, and wish he were younger by a
score of years.
No one could have been more generous in encouragement and praise.
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