“There’s a boat coming out yonder now, sir,” said the signalman.
“Ah! is there, Wilson? Well, pray Heaven it may be the first lieutenant, and that he may have had luck.”
Twenty minutes afterwards, Tom Fairlie, lieutenant in his Majesty’s navy, but acting-commander under Captain Mackenzie, was alongside in the first cutter. He was not alone, for several other officers were with him, and among them our old friend MʻHearty. Jack welcomed the latter, figuratively speaking, with open arms, then went to his private cabin, accompanied by Tom, who had been on shore on duty since early morning.
“Sit down, Tom. Now we’re off the quarter-deck there is no need for ceremony. You look tired and starved. Help yourself to wine and biscuits there before you say a single word.”
Tom poured out a glass, smiling as he did so.
“Ah!” cried Jack, “I know you have good news.”
“Ay, Jack, lots of it. I’ve been everywhere and I’ve done everything, and I’ve had good luck in the whole.”
“Wait a moment, Tom.—Steward!”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“I’m engaged for the next half-hour unless any one desires to see me on duty.—Now, Tom, I shall light my pipe. Follow my example. It wants an hour to dinner, and you are my guest to-night. No one else save our two selves and MʻHearty, I believe.”