He seemed to see no one, and probably he didn't; but he told his story--that tragedy of the sea which now was improved by appropriate scenery--the lantern.
His performance received round after round of applause, and when he returned with his piccolo, and said laughing, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to play you the very Sonata from Wagner, with which I used to charm the snakes," the cheering was renewed. He was recalled three times.
The last time he played a sweetly melancholy melody from Faust, and when he had finished and during the appreciation lull, he drew his sleeve across his eyes as if to wipe away a tear.
"I've got a little gal in England, ladies, and that's how."
Then he bowed himself prettily off the stage.
"But I say, McTavish," cried young Guilford, "you're positively looking a bit pale."
"I'm taken aback," said the doctor. "I've met that boy, if boy he be, before. At Nice I think. But it is but a fancied resemblance I can now see to a charming Italian girl I knew for an all too brief period of my existence."
"Well, I happen to know the lad," said Guilford. "That is the boy Bowser. He came on board the day before we sailed, and he did make all hands laugh I assure you, and you should have seen our fellows dancing. We'll stroll round to the green room and see him." And so they did.
They knocked. "May we come in for one minute?" said Guilford.
"You do us honour. British Naval Officers are welcome everywhere," answered Mr. Howe.