“You ban vant to see me, sir?” he rumbled as, hat in hand, he stood beside Cappy Ricks’ desk half an hour later.  Compared with the huge Swede, Cappy looked like a watch charm.

“Sit down, captain,” Cappy replied amiably.  “I hear you’re out of a job.  Why?”

Briefly All Hands And Feet explained what Cappy already knew; that his last command, being old and rotten and over-loaded, had worked apart in a seaway and fallen to pieces under him.  The inspectors had held him blameless.

“I have a job for you, Ole,” Cappy announced.  “But there’s a string attached to it.”

“Aye ban able to pull strings, sir,” Ole reminded him.

Cappy smiled, and outlined to the Swede the conditions surrounding the barkentine Retriever.  “I’m going to give you command of the Retriever,” he continued confidentially.  “You are to bring her home from Cape Town, and when you get back I’ll have a staunch four-masted schooner waiting for you.  I was going to send McBride of the Nokomis on this job, but thought better of it, for the reason that Mac may not be physically equipped to perform the additional task I have in mind and I believe you are.  Peterson, if you want a steady job skippering for the Blue Star Navigation Company you’ve got to earn it, and to earn it you’ve got to give this fellow Peasley a good sound thrashing for the good of his immortal soul.  The very moment you step aboard the Retriever let him know you’re the master.”

“Do you tank he ban villin’ to fight?” Ole demanded.

“Something tells me he will.  However, in case he doesn’t, don’t let that embarrass you.  Man-handle him until he does.  Let me impress upon you, captain, the fact that I want the man Peasley summarily chastised for impudence and insubordination.”

“All right, sir,” said Ole.  “Aye ban work him over.”  To be asked to fight for a job was to this descendant of the Vikings the ne plus ultra of sportsmanship.  “Aye never ban licked yet,” he added reminiscently.

“When we cabled we were sending a man to relieve him,” Cappy complained, “he replied, telling us to insure his successor’s life, because he was going to throw him overboard the minute he arrived.”

All Hands And Feet swept away any lingering fears Cappy might chance to be entertaining.  “Aye ban weigh two hundret an’ saxty pounds,” he announced.

“Which being the case,” Cappy warned him, “should he succeed in throwing you overboard I should consider you unfit for a job in my employ.” (The old fox had not the slightest idea such a contretemps was possible, but in order to play safe he considered it good policy to hearten Ole for the fray.) “Should he defeat you, captain, I have no hesitancy in saying to you now that such a misfortune would have a most disastrous effect on your future in my employ.  You know me.  When I order a job done, I want it done, and I want it done well.  Understand!  I don’t want you to maim or kill the man, but just give him a good sound—­er—­commercial thrashing; and after you’ve tamed him I want you to—­”