Marlow's eyes glazed over with the non-caring blubber the protected his inner psyche like a walrus' fat. Apparently tensions were high and the entertainment he'd provided at the cost of his own skin hadn't helped matters. Though, he felt sure the man had noticed his change in uniform and had said nothing. It must be ok! Marlow's chest puffed out in pride, letting every ounce of testosterone-fueled drabble drip out of his ears the second it entered.
He covered his ears as the man shouted a status report not a foot away from him, feeling nearly deafened. When the sailor and the captain began to bicker like a married couple, Marlow briskly turned and jogged back to the storage cabin he'd been staying in to gather his things. He would have wrapped them all up and slung them in his back, but there wasn't anything really there to speak of. Just his now-dry clothes and the cloak-blanket he slept in. He changed into his dry clothes and layered the sailor's on top of them (pretty sure wearing multiple layers of armor doesn't doubly protect you, it just keeps you warm), and tied his cloak-bedding around his neck. He looked more like a toddler playing superhero than anything else - and with the bruises to prove it.
His double layer of clothes felt perfect for the frigid breeze that embittered the waters. He watched the land mass grow closer and closer, the docks now visible.
His scrubbing brush, bucket, and wax towel lay where he'd abandoned them last.
TL;DR : Marlow is anxious to disembark