Chapter Nineteen.
The end of the Guerrilla.
I arrived at the Pen just in time for dinner, and found myself one of an unusually large party of guests, several men-o’-war being in port at the time, while a large contingent of civilians might always be met at the admiral’s table. The old gentleman received me with all his wonted kindness and cordiality, introducing me to such of his guests as I had not met before, and relating over the dinner-table, with much gusto, the story of my abduction and escape. Then I produced Morillo’s letter of defiance, which I took with me to show him, and which added a fillip to the conversation that lasted us until the cloth was drawn. We sat rather late over our wine, and when we rose to go the admiral invited me into his library for a moment, and said—
“Well, my lad, d’ye intend to accept that piratical rascal’s challenge?”
“Most assuredly I do, sir, if I can but fall in with him,” answered I.
“Very well,” said the admiral, “you shall have every opportunity to give him the thrashing that he so richly deserves. There,” handing me a packet, “are your orders, which you will find are that, while cruising against the enemy, and doing as much harm as you can to their commerce, you are to keep a bright lookout for Morillo, and either capture or destroy him at all costs. When do you sail?”
“The moment that I can get aboard, sir,” answered I.
“That’s right, that’s right; you will then be able to make a good offing before the land-breeze drops,” returned the admiral. “Well,” he continued, “good-bye, my boy, and a successful cruise to you. And if, when you return, you bring Morillo with you, or can assure me of his destruction, you shall have t’other swab; for I shall consider that you have well-earned it.”
And therewith I left him and drove into Kingston, where I routed out a boatman and made the best of my way aboard the Diane. An hour later the brigantine was under way, and threading her passage through the shoals to seaward under the influence of a roaring land-breeze.
The question that now exercised my mind was, where was I to look for Morillo? In what direction should I be most likely to find him? It was a most difficult question to answer; but, after considering the matter in all its bearings, I came to the conclusion that his most likely haunt would probably be near one of the great entrances from the Atlantic to the Caribbean Sea, where he would be conveniently posted to intercept and plunder both outward and homeward-bound ships; although he would probably take care not to establish himself too near, lest he should run foul of any of our cruisers stationed in the same locality for the protection of British bottoms trading to and from West Indian ports. He would in all likelihood select a spot some two or three hundred miles away out in the Atlantic, from which he could command both the outward and the homeward routes of ships bound from and to Europe. I opened a chart of the North Atlantic and studied it carefully, trying to imagine myself in his place, and thinking what I should do under such circumstances; and reasoning in this way, I at length fixed upon a belt of ocean suitable for piratical purposes, and thither I determined to make my way, thoroughly searching every mile of intervening water as I did so. Then came the question whether I should select the Windward or the Mona Passage by which to make my way into the Atlantic; and after much anxious consideration I decided upon the Windward Passage, that being the channel most frequently used by our merchantmen. I accordingly set the course for Morant Point, and then went below and turned in.