The merchants of Bristol sent in a petition to His Majesty the King,
saying that the trade of the port was being ruined, that their ships
were taken, that the supplies of sugar and tobacco must run short, and
that, while the ladies would suffer as to their coffee, there would soon
be no snuff ground up for the titillation of the noses of the king's
liege subjects.
Always the same story--Commodore Junk, in command of a long, low,
fast-sailing schooner, was here, there, and everywhere. This sugar and
coffee-laden ship was plundered and burnt off Kingston port, so near
that the glow of the fire was seen. That brig, full of choice mahogany
logs, was taken near Belize. A fine Bristol bark, just out of the great
port of South Carolina, full of the choicest tobacco-leaf, was taken the
next week. And so on, and so on. Ships from Caracas, from the Spanish,
French, and Dutch settlements, heavily-laden, or from England outward
bound, were seized. All was fish that came to the pirate's net, and if
the vessels were foreign, so much the worse for them, the buccaneer
captain dealing out his favours with fairly balanced hand till the
shores of the great gulf and the islands that formed the eastern barrier
rang with the news of his deeds.
Government heard what was said, and replied that five years before they
had sent out a ship to capture Commodore Junk, that there was a severe
engagement, and the captain was taken and hung, and afterwards gibbeted
off the port where his deeds obtained most fame.
To which the Bristol merchants replied in a further petition that though
it was as the Government stated, Commodore Junk's body had been taken
down from the gibbet soon after it was hung up, that he had come to life
again, and that his deeds were now ten times worse than before.
Moreover, that somewhere or another on the western shores of the great
Mexican Gulf, he had a retreat where he lived in great luxury when
ashore; that maidens, wives, and widows had been captured and taken
there to live a life of terrible captivity; that many bloody deeds had
been done after desperate fighting, men being compelled to walk the
plank or sent adrift in small boats far from land; and that, though
spies had been sent out, no one had been able to discover the mysterious
retreat, even the Indians who had been bribed to go returning with their
heads minus their ears, or else with strange tales that the buccaneer
was under the protection of the great thunder gods, whose home was in
the burning mountains, and that it was useless to try to destroy him and
his crew.
Moreover, the men of Bristol said that it was a crying shame that their
ships and cargoes should not have adequate protection, seeing what a
deal they paid to the revenue for the goods they imported, and that one
of His Majesty's ships ought to be more than a match for all the thunder
gods in Central America, and His Majesty's petitioners would ever pray.
The king's minister of the time said that the men of Bristol were a set
of old women, and that it was all nonsense about Commodore Junk; and for
some months longer nothing was done. Then came such an angry clamour
and such lengthy accounts of the crimes the buccaneer had committed that
the Government concluded that they must do something, and gave their
orders accordingly.
The result was that one day Captain Humphrey Armstrong walked along the
Mall in his big boots, which creaked loudly over the gravel. The gold
lace on his uniform glittered in the sunshine; and as he wore his cocked
hat all on one side, and rested his left hand upon the hilt of his
sword, which hung awkwardly across him, mixed up with the broad skirts
of his coat, he looked as fine and gallant a specimen of humanity as was
to be found in the king's service.
The officers of the king's guards, horse and foot, stared at him, and
more than one pair of bright eyes rested with satisfaction on the
handsome, manly face, as the captain went along smiling with
satisfaction and apparently conceit.
It was with the former, not the latter, for the captain was on his way
to Saint James's Square, to keep an appointment at Lord Loganstone's,
and before long he was in earnest converse with Lady Jenny Wildersey,
his lordship's youngest daughter, one of the most fashionable beauties
of her day.
"Yes," said the captain, after nearly half an hour's preliminary
conversation. "It is in the course of duty, and I must go."
"La!" said her ladyship, with a very sweet smile. "But couldn't you
send someone else!"
"At the call of duty!" cried the captain. "No. Besides, you would not
wish me to stay under such circumstances as those."
"La!" said her ladyship, as, after a show of resistance, she surrendered
her lily-white hand, and suffered it to be kissed.
"And how long will it take you to capture this terrible buccaneer?"
"I shall be away for months," said the captain.
"La!" said the lady.
"But I shall fight like some knight-errant of old, and fly back."
"La!" said the lady.
"With the wings of my good ship," said the captain, "and hasten to lay
the trophies of my victory at my darling's feet."
"You will be sure to bring him?" said the lady.
"I hope he will fall in the fight," said the captain.
"Then you are going to fight?"
"Yes, I am going out in command of a splendid ship with a crew of brave
men, to attack and exterminate this horde of wasps, and I hope to do it
like a man."
"But will anybody bleed?"
"I fear so."
"La! Will you be hurt?"
"I hope not. But I must run the risk; and if I come back wounded, it
will be in your service, dearest, and then I shall claim my reward."
"No," said the lady, with one of her most winning looks. "I don't
believe you. Sailors are worse than soldiers, and you will fall in love
with one of the lovely Spanish ladies out there, and forget all about
poor little me."
"Forget you!" cried the captain, passionately; "never! My love for you
grows stronger every day; and as to beauty, was there ever a woman so
beautiful as you?"
"La!"
Captain Humphrey was about to throw himself on his knees as well as his
big boots would allow; but just then the door opened, and fresh visitors
were announced, and though the topic of the captain's appointment to the
sloop of war _Queen Jane_, for the extermination of the West Indian
buccaneers, formed the staple of the conversation, he had to leave at
last with nothing warmer than a smile, but full of a great deal of hope.
For love had blinded the eyes of the stout captain lately introduced to
the fashionable beauty, and welcomed on account of the fact that he had
lately succeeded to the Devonshire estates of the Armstrongs, consequent
upon the death of his cousin James, who had been killed in a duel
arising out of some affair of gallantry, the husband of the lady in
question objecting to Captain James Armstrong's advances, and running
him through the body.
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 ship 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.