"Here, Mark, shut him in the parlour." "All right, father! but he won't stir now." "Come down, my lad," said the captain.

"You can climb over the balustrade." "Bee-low!" cried the sailor in a gruff, sing-song tone, and loosening his hold he dropped lightly on to the oil-cloth within a couple of yards of the dog.
Bruff's head was pressed close down to the floor, but he showed his teeth and uttered a growl like a lilliputian peal of thunder.
"Quiet!" cried Mark, as Billy Widgeon struck an attitude with his fists doubled, ready for attack or defence.
"Lor', if you was aboard our ship, wouldn't I heave you overboard fust chance!" cried the sailor.
"What did you do to the dog ?" said the captain angrily.
"I never did nothing at all, sir.

I only wanted my umbrella as I stood up in the corner.

Soon as I went to take it he come at me, and if I hadn't done Jacko and nipped up there he'd have had a piece out of my leg." As he spoke he went to take the umbrella from the corner, when, looking upon the movement as an attempt to carry out a robbery, Bruff uttered another savage growl aid struggled to get free.
"All, would yer!" cried Billy Widgeon, snatching up his umbrella and holding it by the toe in cudgel-fashion.

"Now, then, youngster, lot him go.