hock resulted in one of the
men being sent staggering backwards, and the other getting the _kick_.
When the two were pretty equally matched, both were usually, as they
expressed it, "brought up all standing," in which case a short scuffle
ensued, as each endeavoured to trip up the heels of his adversary. To
prevent undue violence in such struggles, a rule was laid down that
hands were not to be used on any account. They might use their feet,
legs, shoulders, and elbows, but not their hands.

In such rough play the men were more equally matched than might have
been expected, for the want of weight among the smaller men was often
more than counterbalanced by their activity, and frequently a sturdy
little fellow launched himself so vigorously against a heavy tar as to
send him rolling head over heels on the ice. This was not always the
case, however, and few ventured to come into collision with Peter Grim,
whose activity was on a par with his immense size. Buzzby contented
himself with galloping on the outskirts of the fight, and putting in a
kick when fortune sent the ball in his way. In this species of warfare
he was supported by the fat cook, whose oily carcass could neither stand
the shocks nor keep up with the pace of his messmates. Mizzle was a
particularly energetic man in his way, however, and frequently kicked
with such goodwill that he missed the ball altogether, and the
tremendous swing of his leg lifted him from the ice and laid him
sprawling on his back.

"Look out ahead!" shouted Green, the carpenter's mate; "there's a sail
bearing down on your larboard bow."

Mivins, who had the ball before him at the moment, saw his own
satellite, Davie, coming down towards him with vicious intentions. He
quietly pushed the ball before him for a few yards, then kicked it far
over the boy's head, and followed it up like an antelope. Mivins
depended for success on his almost superhuman activity. His tall, slight
frame could not stand the shocks of his comrades, but no one could equal
or come near to him in speed, and he was quite an adept at dodging a
_charge_, and allowing his opponent to rush far past the ball by the
force of his own momentum. Such a charge did Peter Grim make at him at
this moment.

"Starboard hard!" yelled Davie Summers, as he observed his master's
danger.

"Starboard it is!" replied Mivins, and leaping aside to avoid the shock,
he allowed Grim to pass. Grim knew his man, however, and had held
hims