Commodore Junk Part 40

So, deeply in love with as pretty a bit of artificiality as ever dressed, or rather believing himself deeply in love, Captain Humphrey joined his well-found s.h.i.+p at Falmouth, sailed for the far west and the land of the torrid sun; and the men of Bristol rubbed their hands, thought of their freights, and sat down to their ledgers, while they waited for the news of the hanging of Commodore Junk.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE PIRATE CHASE.

"It's like hunting a will-o'-the-wisp on Dartmoor," cried Captain Humphrey, as he sat in one of his s.h.i.+p's boats, wiping the perspiration from his sun-scorched face. "One day I'm ready to swear it is all a myth, the next that there are a dozen Commodore Junks."

For he had been out in the Mexican Gulf for six months, and was as far off finis.h.i.+ng his task as on the day when he had reached Kingston harbour, and listened to the tales of the buccaneer's last deeds.

But it was no myth. Put in where he would, it was to hear fresh news of the pirates. Now some unfortunate captain would arrive in a small boat, with his crew, suffering from heat, thirst, and starvation. Now the half-burned hull of a goodly argosy would be encountered on the open sea. At another time news would come of a derelict that had been scuttled but not sunk, and seen in such and such lat.i.tude.

Wherever he went Captain Humphrey was met with news, and at last with reproaches and almost insult by the authorities at the various ports at which he touched, for the way in which his task was being done.

For there was he with a small, swift-sailing s.h.i.+p, full of stout seamen, bravely officered, well-armed, and with guns big enough to blow all the schooners in the west to matchwood, while from the captain to the smallest powder-monkey all were red-hot with desire to meet the Commodore and give him a foe who knew how to fight.

Six months of following out clues, of going here and there where the schooner had been seen, or where it was expected, but never even to see the tail-end of that huge main-sail that caught the wind, laid the long schooner over, and sent her rus.h.i.+ng through the water in a way that made all attempts at escape childish. In gale or calm it was always the same, and the masters of the many traders knew from experience that if the buccaneer's schooner was in sight, they might as well heave-to as try to fly, for their capture was certain. Consequently, it was growing fast into a rule that when the long schooner fired a shot, it was the proper thing to lower sail or throw a vessel up in the wind, and wait, so as not to irritate the enemy by trying to escape.

Messages travelled slowly in those days, but all the same Captain Humphrey Armstrong had received a despatch hinting at a recall, and a friendly letter telling him that if he did not soon have something to show he would be superseded and in disgrace.

He was a rich man, and at the end of three months he did not scruple to offer rewards for information; he doubled his offer to the man who would bring him within reach of the Commodore's schooner; and beginning with ten guineas, he went on increasing, as the time went on, till he reached a hundred, and, at last, when six months had pa.s.sed, it was known all round the coast that Captain Armstrong would give a thousand guineas to be brought alongside the schooner.

Captain Humphrey ground his teeth when he was alone in his cabin, and he swore as a Devon captain could swear in those days; but it did no good, and in spite of all his struggles, he could only look upon Commodore Junk as a will-o'-the-wisp.

"What will Lady Jenny think?" he groaned. "And I meant to do so much!"

At last what he dreaded arrived. He sailed into port one day, to find his recall; and he went back on board s.h.i.+p, ordered all sail to be made, and, ignoring the order, determined to find the Commodore or die.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE BLACK SCHOONER.

Commodore Junk's schooner, with its enormous spars and sails, had been lying-to off the harbour of Saint Geronimo one afternoon, where she had taken in a good store of fresh fruit for her crew, while waiting the return of one of her officers who had been overland to Belize to pick up information that might be useful to the captain.

Bart Wrigley was silent that calm, still evening for a long time after the captain had spoken, and then--

"It's a mistake, my dear lad," he said angrily. "You do as you like, and I'll follow you through with it, and so will the men; but I say it's a mistake."

"And why!" asked the captain, coldly. "Are you afraid to meet the s.h.i.+p!"

"Nay, I don't know as I'm afraid," said Bart; "but where's the good?

She's twice stronger than we, and we shall get nothing but hard knocks."

"Do you think I should be so mad as to attack such a s.h.i.+p as that on equal terms?"

"I dunno," growled Bart: "May be. Where's the good of fighting her at all?"

"Why do I pursue so many vessels, and take such revenge as I do!" said the captain. "Do you think I've forgotten mine and my brother's wrongs!"

"No; you wouldn't forget them," said Bart, slowly; "but you're going to run too much risk."

"Not too much to gain such sweet revenge, Bart," said the captain, excitedly; and the dark eyes which gazed at the rough, Devon man seemed to burn. "Do you know who commands this s.h.i.+p that has been hunting us these six mouths?"

"Yes; a brave officer in the king's service."

"A brave officer!" cried the captain, contemptuously.

"Well, that's what they say; and that he has sworn to die or take us."

"He--sworn!" cried the captain. "A brave captain! Did you and poor Abel find him so brave when you met him that night on the road to Slapton Lea?"

"What!" cried Bart. "No; 'tisn't him!"

"That s.h.i.+p is commanded by Captain Armstrong," said the captain, hoa.r.s.ely; "by the man, Bart, who blasted my life; who sent my brother to his death out here, for it was through him poor Abel died."

"No! Never!" cried Bart, incredulously.

"It's true, Bart. I have just learned that it is he by Dinny, who has returned from Belize. She is commanded by the man I once thought I loved."

"But you don't love him now?"

"Love! Bart Wrigley, can you believe in a person's nature being changed by cruelty and wrong."

"No. Not yours," growled Bart.

"Then you may believe it, Bart; and now the time has come, and I am going to have my revenge. Do you know what I am going to do?"

"You told me," said Bart, roughly. "Fight."

"Yes; but so as to spare my men, and to spare myself. Bart, I am going to teach the king's grand officer what it is to trifle, and to treat those he holds beneath him as if they were meant for his pleasure, and made for that alone. I am going to destroy the s.h.i.+p of this grand officer, to scatter his men, and to take him prisoner if I can."

"No!" said Bart, hoa.r.s.ely. "Don't do that."

"Why!" cried the captain, mockingly. "Are you afraid that I shall be weak once more? Don't be afraid, Bart. Mary Dell is dead, and it is the soul of her brother who moves this body, and he it is who will take a bitter revenge upon Captain Armstrong for slaying Mary Dell; for in spirit it is this he did."

"You won't kill him?" whispered Bart.

"Why not? Was Mary Dell spared? Was Abel, her brother, treated so tenderly that I should hold my hand?"

"But--" began Bart.

"Leave that to me, Bart Wrigley. Help me to get him into my power, and then he shall learn a truth which will make the traitor--the coward-- wince. Brave officer of his Majesty the King! How brave you shall see.

Now, do you understand why I mean to fight?"

"Yes," said Bart, sadly; "I see. But think twice, my lad."