Poising his immense fists close against his face, he approached me, and then, hoping perhaps to end the business at a _coup_ he rushed upon me, whirling both his arms with the velocity of a windmill in a strong breeze. I took a step and planted a blow, but not without compunction, for I saw that the poor devil had no science. I say I planted a blow in his right eye, which instantly took a singular expression of leering. I backed and he followed, still swinging his arms; and certainly, had I permitted one of those rotary fists to descend upon my head, I must have gone down as though to the blow of a handspike. But alas! for poor Van Laar. He knew nothing of boxing, and I was well versed in that art. I dodged him for a while, hoping that, by winding him, I should be able to bring the battle to a bloodless close. But the fellow had very remarkable staying powers; he seemed unnaturally strong in the wind considering his tonnage. He continued to thrash the air, seeking to rush upon me, while he thundered: “Dere better der man, dere better der mate!” So, to end the business, I knocked him down. He fell flat and heavily upon his back. Jimmy roared with laughter, and Galloon barked furiously at the yellow heap on the deck, straining in the lad’s arms to get at it. Greaves came into the cabin. He stopped when in the companion way, and stared at the motionless figure of Van Laar. “Is the man killed?” cried he. “Oh, dear, no,” I answered. “He’s only resting.” “What is all this about?” he demanded. I told him how it had come about, but when I repeated the insulting expression which had been twice made use of, Van Laar sat up and said: “It vhas true, but I will fight no more mit you. I allow dot you are der better man. I said, ’Dere better der man, dere better der mate,’ and dat shall be as Cott pleases.” “Go to your cabin, sir!” cried Greaves, looking at him with disgust; but, on Van Laar turning his face, the captain’s countenance relaxed. The Dutchman’s eye was closed, and it painted upon his countenance the fixed expression of a wink; otherwise he was not hurt. I had known how to fell him without greatly injuring him or drawing blood, and the worst of the knockdown blow I had administered lay in the shock of the fall of his own weight. “Go to your cabin, sir,” repeated the captain, “and keep to it. Consider yourself under arrest. Your brutal conduct now determines me to clear the ship of you, and you shall be sent home by the first vessel that I can speak.” “You vhas in a hurry,” said Van Laar, getting on to his legs, and beginning to pick up his clothes: “had you vaited you would have foundt me first. It vhas me,” he roared, striking his fat chest, “who tell you, and not you who tell me, dot I leave for goot dis footy hooker. But stop,” cried he, wagging his fat forefinger at the captain, “till I see Mynheer Tulp. Den I vhas sorry for you,” and thus speaking he went to his cabin, bearing his clothes with him.