"It's like hunting a will-o'-the-wisp on Dartmoor," cried Captain
Humphrey, as he sat in one of his ship'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 finishing 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 latitude.
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 ship, 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 rushing 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show he would be superseded and in disgrace.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 passed, 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 ship, ordered all sail to be made,
and, ignoring the order, determined to find the Commodore or die.