Summary

Portrait of George Manville Fenn George Manville Fenn The Little Skipper: A Son of a Sailor

The Skipper turned his back again, so that the sailor should not see the trouble in his face, but he looked round in wonder, for there was a strange scuffling noise, the low whistling of the old tune "Jack Robinson," and there was the big sailor, with his arms swung across his breast, and the parcels dangling on the wrong side, going through the steps of the sailor's hornpipe, as if he were made of indiarubber; and kicking up the dust more than ever.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George Manville Fenn George Manville Fenn The Little Skipper: A Son of a Sailor

Weren't you, Bob?"
"Yes, I was sorry," said the boy repentantly, but without taking his eyes off the big sailor, whose leg was still going up and down like one of the engines on board his father's ship.
"But I must be angry with him, my darling," said the Captain gravely. "Bob knows better; if he does such things now and does not check them, he will grow into a bully, and disgrace himself."
This was said at the Skipper, whose face was very red, from his efforts to keep back his tears.
"Oh! Pa dear!" cried Dot.
"Hush! my darling," said the Captain. "Here, Jeffs!"
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George Manville Fenn George Manville Fenn The Little Skipper: A Son of a Sailor

The poor Skipper did not know how time went: he could think of nothing but that his father had gone away still angry with him, and without bidding him good-bye; and he lay there, half stunned by his misery, till a gruff voice exclaimed: "Hullo! Master Bob! why, here you are, then. Bell's rung ever so long ago; they're looking for you everywhere, and your Ma's in a orful way."
Source: Gutenberg

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