He finished off with a low, sweet, mournful air, that thrilled the listeners. Then, with downcast eyes and face a little red, he appeared to be putting back the flute in order to walk away.
"Here," cried a gentlemen in the crowd, "none of that. Over-modesty never pays, boy."
Off came his straw hat. He tossed a big silver bit into it, Jack threw in a shilling, and in less than a minute at least, five shillings found its way into the boy's pocket from out that hat.
But Kep's face was like a burning coal now. He bowed and thanked all hands, and Jack was following Kep, when the same gentleman tapped him on the shoulder.
"You seem to know the lad?"
"Yes, and his story too."
"Give me his address, there's a good sailor man."
Jack did so, and neither he nor Kep thought any more about it.
"By the way," said the latter, as if it did not matter much whether he received an answer or not, "ever hear anything about the Breezy?"
"Why," cried Jack, "the Breezy has been on this station for months, or here and hereabouts. She is going to do big licks," he added, "when the time comes, the Breezy is."