Come on, you ugly big-headed lubber.

I'm ready for you now." As he spoke Billy Widgeon did Jacko, as he termed it, again, hopping about, flourishing his weapon, and giving it a bang down upon the floor after the fashion of a wild Irishman with his shillelagh.
It was a risky proceeding, for it infuriated the dog, who began to struggle fiercely, while Mark laughed so heartily that he could hardly retain his hold.
"That will do, Widgeon," said the captain, wiping his eyes.

"Here, Mark, make that dog friends with him." "Here, give me the umbrella," said the lad.
"Nay, if I do you'll let him go at me," said the sailor doubtingly.
"Nonsense, man! Give him the umbrella," cried the captain.
The sailor obeyed; and as Mark took it he held it down before the dog, and then returned it to its owner.
Bruff did not say "All right!" but he gave three pats on the oil-cloth with his long bushy tail, a sign that he accepted the position, and then he was allowed to get up.
"Who's afeard!" cried Billy Widgeon, looking from one to the other.

"I say, I was too many for him, sir." "Yes," said the captain; "and what about my Indian jar ?" "Ah! that was the dog's fault, cap'n," said the man earnestly.
"Dog's fault!" said Captain Strong.

"You knocked it down and broke it, and I shall stop the cost out of your pay." Billy Widgeon stood for a moment looking solemn.