"Obey orders, and prove that you are worthy of what I have done, and what I am going to do.

I don't like professions." The captain walked away, and the stowaway stood looking after him, while Bruff walked up and smelled him suspiciously.
"Nobody don't seem to believe in me," said the man in a discontented tone of voice.
"Try and make them, then," said Mark, who felt repelled by the man's servile manner.
"That's just what I'm agoin' to do, sir," said the man, speaking with the most villainous of low London accents.
"What did you say was your name ?" "David, sir; David Jimpny.

He won't bite, will he, sir ?" "No.

Here, Bruff, leave that alone and come here." Mark's declaration that the dog would not bite seemed to give the man very little confidence, and no wonder, for Bruff kept eyeing the stowaway suspiciously in a way which seemed to indicate that he was looking out for a fleshy place to seize, but to his disappointment found none, only good opportunities for a grip at a bone.
Just then Small the boatswain came up from the hold, nodded at Mark, and gave one of his thumbs a jerk.
"I showed you your berth, my lad, go and turn in." The man went forward and disappeared below, while the big rough boatswain gave the captain's son another friendly nod.
"Got to be drilled," he said.

"Rough stuff to work up into a sailor.
Rather have you, squire." "Oh! I should not make a good sailor," said Mark lingering.
"Not if I took you in hand, my lad?
Why, I'd make a man of you in no time.