He plunged in, heavily and blindly, blocking one of Darrin's blows by wrapping both arms around him.
"None of that, Mr.Pennington! Break away fast!" ordered Midshipman Remington quickly.
Dave took a fair get away, not attempting to strike as the clinch was broken.

But an instant later Dave came back, dancing all around his dazed opponent, landing on the short ribs, on the breast bone, under either ear and finally on the tip of the chin.
Pen was sure that none of these blows had been delivered with the force that Darrin could have sent in.
"Time!" shouted Midshipman Dawley.
The principals retired to their corners, Pennington almost wholly afraid from the conviction that his antagonist was now merely playing with him to keep the interest going.
So Pennington was still rather badly scared when the two came together for the fifth round.
"Get lively, now, gentlemen, if you can," begged Referee Remington.
"Finish this one way or the other, and let us get some of the benefits of our shore leave." Pen started by putting more steam behind every blow.

Dave, who had used up so much of his wind by his brilliant footwork, began to find it harder to keep the upper hand.
Twice, however, he managed to land body blows.

He was trying to drive in a third when Pennington blocked, following this with a left-arm jab on Darrin's left jaw that sent the lighter man to the floor.
Instantly Dawley began to count off the seconds.
"-- seven, eight, nine, te----" Dave was up on his feet.

Pen tried to make a quick rush, but Darrin dodged cleverly, them wheeled and faced his opponent as the latter wheeled about.
After that there was less footwork.