"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."