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.