Commodore Junk

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.

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 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.

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 ship!”

“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 ship 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 ship 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 ship is commanded by Captain Armstrong,” said the captain, hoarsely; “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 ship of this grand officer, to scatter his men, and to take him prisoner if I can.”

“No!” said Bart, hoarsely. “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.”

“Bart!” cried the captain, passionately, “I’ve thought a hundred times; and if I were ashore, and could go there – ”

“I know,” said Bart, gloomily. “You’d come out more and more savage and determined, as you always have been. Think twice, my lad. You’re rich; and you’re safe. Once more, why not throw it up now and let’s go home. I asks no more, captain. I’ve lived long enough to know all that; but come home now. There’s a life o’ peace yonder, and you can take it now; to-morrow it may be too late.”

“Let it be so then, Bart.”

“And you’ll come home – to old Devon once again?”

“No! I’m going to meet the captain face to face, Bart, and plant my heel upon his neck.”

Chapter Twenty Two

News at Last

Humphrey Armstrong sat in his cabin listening to the whirr of a beetle which had been attracted by the lights, and flown in through the open window, to make a bass to the treble hum of the mosquitoes which haunted the mouth of the river where the ship had anchored for the night.

The day had been intensely hot, and the cabin seemed ovenlike, as its occupant sat listening to the insect hum; and then to the strange croakings and rustling noises which came from the primeval forest on either side. Now and then a deep roar announced the presence of some huge creature of the cat tribe prowling in search of prey, and this would be followed by a distant answering call.

He walked to the window and looked out, to see the stars reflected in a blurred manner in the rushing waters of the river; while on either side he could see the bushes which fringed the muddy banks scintillating with the lamps of the fireflies. Now they died out, and there would be only a faint twinkle here and there; then, as if something had disturbed or agitated the wondrous insects, they would flash out into soft, lambent sparks of light which played about and darted and circled, and then once more died out, as if to give place to some other creature of their kind, which flashed out so broad a light that the leaves of the trees around could be plainly seen.

He had been away five days since the orders had come out for his return, in the vain hope that perhaps now he might at last encounter the buccaneer; but, so far, he had seen or heard nothing; and the pirate captain might have dropped out of sight, or never existed, on the evening when the captain searched creek after creek along the coast, till nightfall, when, for safety’s sake, he had anchored at the mouth of the muddy stream.

He was lost in thought, and was puzzling out an answer to the question: How was it that the buccaneer schooner contrived to avoid him? – when his trained ears detected the sound of a paddle, and he gazed keenly over the dark waters, wondering whether his watch on deck had heard it, and how long they would be ere they challenged the approaching party in their boat?

The question had hardly been mentally asked when he heard the challenge from on deck, and the paddling ceased. Then came a certain amount of shouting, and a conversation, muffled by the distance, followed, and the boat was allowed to approach.

A minute later the officer of the watch came down to announce the arrival of a couple of Indians bearing news.

“It’s the old story, sir, vamped up to get a bottle of rum; but I thought I’d better report it to you. Shall I kick them, and let them go!”

“No,” said the captain, shortly, for he was ready now to snatch at straws. “What does the man say?”

“There are two of them, sir; and they say the pirate vessel is to be found a day’s journey to the south, and that they have seen it lying at anchor.”

“Do they seem honest!”

“Honest as Indians, sir. I think it’s all made up.”

“I’ll come and see them.”

The captain rose and went on deck, where he found a couple of soft, brown, plump-looking Indians, with large, dreamy eyes and languid manner, seated upon their heels near the gangway, where they could give a glance from time to time at their canoe swinging by a frail-looking bark rope.

The men did not stir as the captain came up, but crouched in their old position, gazing up at him furtively.

“Now,” he said, sharply, “where is this pirate ship?”

The men looked at him vacantly.

“Commodore Junk!” said Humphrey.

“El Commodore Yunk; yes. Ship there.”

One of the Indians had caught his meaning, and pointed southward.

“Have you seen the ship?”

The men nodded quickly and pointed again.

“Why have you come here to tell us?”

The Indian stared, then looked at his companion, with whom he rapidly exchanged a few words, ending by turning back, holding out his hands, and exclaiming —

“El Commodore Yunk. Money. Rum.”

“There’s a frankness about this fellow that makes me disposed to believe him,” said Humphrey, grimly, as he smiled at the officer. “‘Commodore Yunk. Money. Rum.’ And the pointing seems to me as effective as the longest speech. Look here, can you understand? Show us – ”

“Show – show – way – El Commodore Yunk.”

“Yes, that will do,” said the captain. “But mind this; if you play us false – here, show him!”

“Show – El Commodore Yunk,” cried the Indian, catching the last words. “Money – powd – rum.”

“You shall have plenty,” said Humphrey; “but make him understand that if he plays us false he shall be hung at the yard-arm.”

The officer of the watch, quite a young man, seemed to enjoy his task; for, catching up the signal halyards, he rapidly made a noose, threw it over the Indian’s head, and drew it tight. Then, pointing upward, he said slowly —

“If you cheat!”

“Hang um?” said the Indian, sharply.

“Yes. We shall hang you if you don’t show Commodore Junk.”

“Show El Commodore Yunk,” said the Indian, composedly.

“I think he understands us,” said the officer of the watch.

“Very well, then,” cried Humphrey. “Let’s start, then, at once. Now, then, south!” he cried to the man.

“South?” said the Indian.

“Yes, south!” cried the captain, pointing. “Show us the way.”

“Show. El Commodore Yunk. No.”

He shook his head, and pointed around him, and then to the lanterns, which shed a dim light over the scene.

“No. Dark,” he said.

“He means it is too dark to go,” said the second officer. “Look here, old brownskin. Light? sun?”

“Light – sun!” cried the Indian, eagerly, pointing to the east, and then seizing the thin rope which had been twisted round his neck, he ran to the gangway, slid down into his boat, made the cord fast, and came scrambling up again to secure the signal-line.

This done, he said a few words to his companion, and, going to the side, threw himself down under the bulwarks, and seemed to go to sleep at once.

“Yes; that’s plain enough,” said Humphrey. “He means to wait till daylight. Keep a strict watch. We may have found the right man at last.”

He need have been under no anxiety as to the two informers, for they lay motionless till daybreak, and then rose suddenly, looked sharply round, and, going forward, pointed to the rope which moored them in mid-stream.

Half an hour later the sloop was gliding slowly out of the mouth of the river; the lowered sails caught the cool, moist morning breeze, and, in obedience to the Indian’s directions which were embraced in the pointing of a brown hand southward, the king’s ship sailed steadily along the coast a few miles from the shore, which, with its sandy beach alternating with bold headlands that ran down from regularly-formed volcanic-looking peaks, and creeks, and river estuaries, fringed with palm and mud-loving growth, showed plenty of spots where a vessel might find a hiding-place, and which it would have taken a fleet of boats to adequately explore.

The Indian’s conduct increased the confidence of Humphrey; and as the day wore on the officers and crew, who had been for months chasing myths, began to look forward hopefully to an encounter with the pirates, and to believe that the preparations for action might not this time prove to have been in vain.

It was within two hours of sundown, as the men were at their drowsiest moment – many being fast asleep – when, as they were rounding a rocky point feathered with glorious palms, beyond which the country ran up toward the mountains in a glorious chaos of piled-up rock, deep ravine, and fire-scathed chine, the principal Indian suddenly seized the captain’s arm and pointed straight before him to where, a couple of miles away, and looking as if she had just glided out of some hidden channel running into the land, there was a long, low, black-hulled schooner, spreading an enormous amount of canvas for so small a vessel; and as he saw the rake of the masts and the disproportioned size of her spars, Humphrey Armstrong felt a thrill of exultation run through him even as his whole crew was now galvanised into life, and he mentally repeated the words of the Indian —

“El Commodore Yunk.”

Yes; there could be no doubt of it. The shape and size of the vessel answered the description exactly, and no trader or pleasure vessel, foreign or British, would sail with so dangerously an overweighting rig as that.

“At last, then!” cried Humphrey, excitedly, as he stood gazing at the long, suspicious-looking craft; and his heart beat heavily, his face flushed, and the hands which held his glass trembled with eagerness.

The men made way to right and left as their captain strode aft and exclaimed —

“Bring the poor fellows here. They shall have their reward and go.”

“Was it treachery, or fear of the enemy?”

Humphrey asked himself this question as a shout came from the steersman, who, like the rest, had been gazing at the schooner, but who was the first to see and draw attention to a canoe being paddled rapidly for the shore.

No one had been attending to the two Indians, who had waited until the attention of all was bent upon the buccaneer, and then silently slipped over the side, glided down the rope, and cast off, to paddle shorewards.

There was good discipline on board ship even then, and at the call to quarters every man fell into place. The long gun was run in, loaded, run out, and directly after there was a puff of smoke, a loud report which went echoing among the mountains and through the densely-wooded ravines, as a round shot skipped over the water right in front of the schooner.

“Hurrah!” shouted the men, as they saw the long vessel alter her course a little.

“She surrenders,” said Humphrey to himself; and in the brief moments that followed he saw himself returning to England in triumph, his task done, and beautiful, fashionable Lady Jenny Wildersey welcoming him with open arms.

It was a puff of fancy, dissipated like the puff of smoke which came from the schooner’s bows; while, in company with the report that rumbled heavily away, came a round shot skipping over the calm surface of the sea, not forward like the summons to heave-to of the king’s ship, but straight at her hull, and so well-aimed that it tore through the starboard bulwark amidships and passed just in front of the mainmast, which it almost grazed.

“The insolent!” exclaimed Humphrey, turning purple with rage. “How dare he!”

As he spoke he raised his spy-glass to his eye, for something could be seen fluttering up the side of the great main-sail, and directly after a large black flag was wafted out by the breeze in defiance of a ship-of-war double the schooner’s size, and heavily armed, as well as manned by a picked and disciplined crew.

“Very good, Commodore!” cried Humphrey, with a smile. “You can’t escape us now. Gentlemen, the ball has opened. Down with her spars, my lads. Never mind her hull; we want that to take back to Falmouth, from whence she shall sail next time with a different rig.”