“You cleared the ship, eh?  Well, Swede, I’m glad to hear that.  I should have cleared her myself and sailed long ago if I had only had a skipper’s ticket; but these British custom-house officials are great sticklers for red tape and they wouldn’t clear me.  And, of course, a man can’t sail without his papers.  When he does they send a gunboat after him.  However,” he added brightly “the ship is cleared and the skipper—­so I am unofficially informed—­is aboard.  By the way, Swede, I left a lot of 0.K.’d bills for stores and provision up at the office of the Harlow & Benton Company, Limited.  Did you square up for them?”

“Yah; everything ban shipshape,” All Hands And Feet assured him.

“And you insist on presenting your credentials in bunches of fives, eh?”

All Hands And Feet nodded and once more commenced sidling toward Matt Peasley, who backed away again, meantime addressing himself to the United States consul: 

“You heard what he said, Mr. Consul.  He may be my superior officer, but I have not been informed of that fact officially; and meantime, so far as I am concerned, he is merely a fine, big squarehead who has climbed aboard my ship uninvited and attacked me.  Did you ever see a sea bully licked, Mr. Consul?”

“I have never had that pleasure, Mr. Peasley.”

All the time Matt Peasley was circling around the deck, with All Hands And Feet sidling after him.

“Then you’ve got something coming, sir,” Matt replied.  “Help yourself to a reserved seat on the rail and watch the joyous procedure.  Mr. Murphy?”

“Here, sir,” Mr. Murphy replied promptly.

“I’m going to thrash the big fellow, Mr. Murphy.  Stand by to see fair play and keep the crew off him.  I observe you have equipped yourself with a belaying-pin.  Thank you, Mr. Murphy.  You anticipate the situation.”

He turned to All Hands And Feet, who was still crowding him as they circled the deck.  “Stop where you are, my friend; otherwise, Mr. Murphy will crack you on the head with the belaying-pin.”

All Hands And Feet grinned patronizingly and paused.

“Vell?” he queried.

“On my ship,” Matt continued, “all fights are pulled off under my rules.  Kicking, choking, biting, gouging and deadly weapons are prohibited.  If you get me down you can use your fists on me, but anything else will necessitate the interference of the referee with his trusty belaying-pin.”

“Vell?” All Hands And Feet queried again.  He was very eager for the fray.

“We have procured a set of two-ounce gloves in anticipation of this physical culture exhibition,” Matt replied.  “Unfortunately, however, I fear your hands will not fit them.  Would you care to try them on?”

“Cut it oud!  Cut it oud!” the enemy rumbled contemptuously, and again commenced his advance.

“One minute, then, my friend, until I put on—­”