Matt stepped in he ducked and leaped upon his antagonist.

"By yiminy," he yelled. "I got you now!" and his great hands closed
around Matt Peasley's neck.

"Lower deck!" Mr. Murphy yelled shrilly, and a volley of short arm
blows commenced to rattle on the big Swede's stomach. For at least
seven seconds Matt worked 1ike a pneumatic riveter; then--

"Swing your partner for the grand right and left," Mr. Murphy
counseled, and Matt closed with All Hands And Feet, and managed to
shake the badly winded champion off.

"All off," Mr. Murphy declared to the American consul and dropped his
marline-spike, as Matt Peasley ripped left and right, right and left
into Ole Peterson's dish face. "Watch the skipper--our skipper, I
mean. Regular young human pile-driver." He raised his voice and
called to Matt Peasley. "He's rocking on his legs now, sir; but keep
away from those arms. He's dangerous and you're givin' him fifty
pounds the best of it in the weights. Try the short ribs with your
left and feel for his chin with the right, sir. Very nicely done,
sir! Now--once more!"

Mr. Murphy nodded politely to the American consul.

"Excuse me," he said. "The bigger they are the harder they fall, and
the Retriever's deck ain't no nice place to bump a man's head. I'll
just skip round in back and catch him in my arms."

Which being done, Mr. Murphy laid All Hands And Feet gently on deck,