As soon as he finds he can't get to me, he'll make noise enough." "That's your sort," said Billy.

"You bring him along, then." Mark called the dog, who leaped up and bounded to him, and five minutes later he was chained up under the main hatch and left, while Billy led the way back to the deck, and helped Mark up to a place of vantage, where they could see the monkey without being seen, and at the same time make the dog hear.
"Now then, Mr Mark, sir.

You call old Bruff." Mark obeyed, and there was a sharp bark in reply, then a volley of barks, a rattling of the chain, and, on the call being repeated, quite a howl.
At the first bark Jack turned his head and listened, then, as the barking continued more angrily, he raised his head and looked in the direction from whence the sounds came.

At the first howl he went upon his hands and knees, and uttered an uneasy kind of noise, but threw himself down again, and laid his head close to the deck, shuffling about uneasily.
Then there was peace for a few moments.
"Call him again, Mr Mark, sir," whispered Billy.
Mark obeyed, and, leaning down, uttered the dog's name in a suppressed way, which sounded as if it came from a great distance.
The result was a burst of barking, followed by a series of the most piteous howls, wild and prolonged, such as an animal might utter who was suffering from some terrible torture.
"That'll fetch him," whispered Billy; and he seemed to be right, for, as the howling continued, Jack grew restless.

He sat up, listened, threw himself down, turned over, then on the other side, and ended by bursting out into a fit of chattering, and going at full speed along the deck to the hatchway, down which he disappeared at a bound, old practice teaching him that he would drop upon the steps, and his experience being right.
"Come along," said Billy chuckling.