While this scene is on, another appears in Cheapside, London. A man of bold and vigorous bearing comes from the office of a well-known solicitor. That very morning he had had an interview with the King, and had been reminded with more exactness than kindness that he had cost King Charles a ship, scores of men, and thousands of pounds, in a fruitless search for buried treasure in Hispaniola. When he had urged his case upon the basis of fresh information, he was drily told that the security was too scant, even for a king. He had then pleaded his case to the Duke of Albemarle and other distinguished gentlemen. They were seemingly convinced, but withheld their answer till the following morning. But William Phips, stubborn adventurer, destined to receive all sorts of honours in his time, has no intention of quitting London till he has his way; and this is his thought as he steps into Cheapside, having already made preparations upon the chance of success. He has gone so far as to purchase a ship, called the Bridgwater Merchant from an alderman in London, though he has not a hundred guineas at his disposal. As he stands debating, a hand touches his arm and a voice says in his ear: “You were within a mile of it with the Atgier Rose, two years ago.” The great adventurer turns. “The devil I was! And who are you?” Satanic humour plays in the stranger’s eyes as he answers: “I am Edward Bucklaw, pirate and keeper of the treasure-house in the La Planta River.” “Blood of Judas,” Phips says, “how dare you speak to me? I’ll have you in yon prison for an unhung rascal!” “Ah! you are a great man,” is the unmoved reply. “I knew you’d feel that way. But if you’ll listen for five minutes, down here at the Bull-and-Daisy, there shall be peace between us.” An hour later, Phips, following Bucklaw’s instructions, is tracing on a map the true location of the lost galleon’s treasure. “Then,” says Bucklaw, “we are comrades?” “We are adventurers.”