She went again and again. I do not know how she managed it, but I do know that in a month’s time Sir Digby was a free man, and married to Miss Gordon.
This event took place just two days before Jack’s ship staggered wearily into Plymouth Sound.
While he still sat by his open port, gazing sadly landward, Tom Fairlie came in with a rush and a run. He too had a copy of the Times.
“Listen, Jack,” he cried, “and I’ll read something that will astonish you.”
“Don’t, Tom, don’t. I have already seen the awful announcement. I am a broken and crushed man!”
“Broken and crushed fiddlestick!” said Tom. “Listen, listen: ‘At St. Nicholas’ Church, on the 5th inst., by the Rev. Charles Viewfield, Sir Digby Auld to Miss Gertrude Gordon, daughter of—’”
“Hurrah!” cried Jack, springing from his seat and overturning the chair. “Hurrah for the Rev. Charlie! Tom, shake hands, my dearest and best of friends. You’ve made me the happiest man in the British Islands. Hurrah!”
In a week’s time the Tonneraire was paid off and safe in dock, and a carriage with postillions might have been seen tearing along the road that leads from Plymouth to Tor Bay.
The carriage contained Jack Mackenzie and his friend Tom Fairlie.