“Gone?” said the boy, sharply, as he left off eating. “You’re not going away to leave me, are you?”
“Well, no,” said Jack, grimly. “It’s you who are going away to leave me.”
“That I sha’n’t,” cried the boy, quickly. “I’ll never go away from you. I like you.”
“That’s right,” said Jack Jeens, grinning with satisfaction; “and of course I like you too, youngster. But they’ll be setting you ashore soon, so that you can go back to your folk.”
The boy shook his head.
“What do you mean by that?” said the sailor, sharply. “Lookye here, you never told me what your name was, nor where you come from.”
The little fellow frowned and looked pained.
“Got a name, haven’t you?” said the sailor.
“Yes, of course,” cried the boy. “Phil.”
“Phil, eh?” said the sailor. “Phil what?”