loudness; but at an anxious gesture from Wallingford he grew quiet
again.
"I come to ask you, Mr. Commissioner, if by any means I can further this
business and hasten my transfer to another ship; but I must first do
what I can with the Ranger. She is unfit for any great action, but we
can make a pretty showing in small matters. My head is full of ideas
which I should be glad to lay before you. I desire to strike a smart
blow at the English coast, to counteract the burnings of our towns at
home, and the interference with our shipping, and to stop the prisoning
of our sailors. I can light a fire in England that will show them we
are a people to be feared, and not teased and laughed at. I ask you now
how far France is ready to help me."
"We have good friends in England still," said the Commissioner slowly.
"Some of the best minds and best characters among Englishmen see our
question of the colonies with perfect fairness; the common people are in
great part for us, too, and I have not yet lost hope that they may win
the day. But of late things have gone almost too far for hope. Mr.
Wallingford," and he turned abruptly toward the lieutenant, "I must not
forget to ask you for your mother's health. I have thought of her many
times in her widowhood; she would ill bear the saddest loss that can
fall upon any of us, but she would bear it nobly."
The captain felt himself silenced in the very gathering and uplift of
his eloquence, when he was only delayed out of kind consideration.
Roger Wallingford answered the kind old man briefly and with deep
feeling; then the conference went on. The captain was in full force of
his honest determination.
"Since I cannot have the Indien, as we well know, what ship can I have?"
he demanded. "Shall I do what I can with the Ranger? 'T were far
better than such idleness as this. When I have seen my friend the Duke
of Chartres again, things may take a turn."
"He can do much for you," answered Franklin. "I have been told that he
speaks of you everywhere with respect and affection. These things count
like solid gold with the indifferent populace, ready to take either side
of a great question."
"I feel sure, sir, that the blow must be struck quickly, if at all,"
urged the captain. "If nothing is to be expected from France, I must do
the best I can with the means in my hand. I must make some use of the
Ranger; we have already lost far too much time. They hampered and
delayed me in Portsmouth for month upon month, when I might have been
effective here."
"When you are as old as I, Captain Paul Jones, you will have learned
that delays appear sometimes to be the work of those who are wiser than
we. If life has anything to teach us, it is patience; but patience is
the hardest thing to teach those men who have the makings of a hero in
their breasts." And again he fell into expectant silence, and sat
behind his table looking straight at the captain. Wallingford's heart
was touched by a recognition of Paul Jones's character, which had been
so simply spoken; but that man of power and action took no notice
himself, except to put on a still more eager look, and shift his footing
as he stood, doing honor from his heart to Mr. Franklin.
"Will you not sit, captain? We have much talk before us. It astonishes
me that you should have gained so warm a love for your adopted country,"
said the Commissioner.
"I have to confess that England has been to me but a cruel stepmother.
I loved her and tried to serve her, boy and man," answered the other.
"When I went to live in Virginia, I learned to love my new country as a
lover loves his mistress. God forgive me if I have sometimes been rash
in my service, but Glory has always shone like a star in my sky, and in
America a man is sure of a future if it is in his own breast to make
one. At home everything is fixed; there are walls that none but the
very greatest have ever climbed. Glory is all my dream; there is no
holding back in me when I think of it; my poor goods and my poor life
are only for it. Help me, sir, help me to get my opportunity. You
shall see that I am at heart a true American, and that I know my
business as a sailor. Do not join with those who, with petty quibbles
and excuses, would hold me back!"
The passion of Paul Jones, the fire and manly beauty in his face, his
look of high spirit, would have moved two duller hearts than belonged to
his listeners. Mr. Franklin still sat there with his calm old face, and
a look of pleasant acceptance in his eyes.
"Yes, you are willing to go forward; the feet of young men are ever set
toward danger," he said. "I repeat that we must sometimes be heroes at
waiting. To your faith you must add patience. Your life of effort, like
mine, must teach you that, but I have had longer to learn the lesson. I
shall do all that I can for you. I respect your present difficulties,
but we have to live in the world as it is: we cannot refashion the
world; our task is with ourselves."
"Quel plaisir!" said the little captain bitterly, under his breath.
The pleasant French room, with its long windows set open to the formal
garden, was so silent for a time that at last all three of the men were
startled by a footstep coming out of the distance toward them, along the
loose pebbles of the garden walk. They could not help the feeling that
a messenger was coming from the world outside; but as the sound
approached the window they recognized the easy clack of a pair of wooden
shoes, and the young gardener who wore them began to sing a gay little
French song. Captain Paul Jones moved impatiently, but Mr. Franklin had
taken the time for thought.
"My friend Mr. David Hartley, a member of Parliament, who has been my
willing agent in what attempts could be made to succor our prisoned
sailors, begs me to have patience," he said reflectively. "He still
thinks that nothing should persuade America to throw herself into the
arms of France; for times are sure to mend, and an American must always
be a stranger in France, while Great Britain will be our natural home
for ages to come. But I recalled to him, in my answer, the fact that
his nation is hiring all the cutthroats it can collect, of all countries
and colors, to destroy us. It would be hard to persuade us not to ask
or accept aid from any power that may be prevailed with to grant it, for
the reason that, though we are now put to the sword, we may at some
future time be treated kindly!
"This expects too much patience of us altogether," he continued.
"Americans have been treated with cordiality and affectionate respect
here in France, as they have not been in England when they most deserved
it. Now that the English are exasperated against us we have become
odious as well as contemptible, and we cannot expect a better treatment
for a long time to come. I do not see why we may not, upon an alliance,
hope for a steady friendship with France. She has been faithful to
little Switzerland these two hundred years!"
"I cannot find it in my heart to think that our friendship with our
mother country is forever broken," urged Wallingford, speaking with
anxious solicitude. "The bond is too close between us. It is like the
troubles that break the happiness of a family in a day of bad weather;
it is but a quarrel or fit of the sulks, and when past, the love that is
born in our hearts must still hold us together."
"You speak truly, my young friend," said the old Commissioner; "but we
have to remember that the lives of nations are of larger scope, and that
the processes of change are of long duration. I think that it may be a
century before the old sense of dependence and affection can return, and
England and America again put their arms about each other."
Paul Jones fretted in his gilded chair. The carved crest of Monsieur de
Chaumont was sharp against his back, and the conversation was becoming
much too general.
"Our country is like a boy hardly come to manhood yet, who is at every
moment afraid that he will not be taken for a man of forty years," said
Mr. Franklin, smiling. "We have all the faults of youth, but, thank
God, the faults of a young country are better than the faults of an old
one. It is the young heart that takes the forward step. The day comes
when England will love us all the better for what we are doing, but it
provokes the mother country now, and grieves the child. If I read their
hearts aright, there have been those who thought the mother most deeply
hurt, and the child most angry. You will have seen much of the
Loyalists, Mr. Wallingford, if I mistake not?"
Wallingford colored with boyish confusion. "It would seem most natural,
sir, if you take my mother's connection into account," he answered
honestly. "She and her family are among those who have been sure of
England's distress at our behavior. She is of those who inherit the
deepest sentiments of affection toward the Crown."
"And you have been her antagonist?"
The question was kindly put, but it came straight as an arrow, and with
such force that Paul Jones forgot his own burning anxiety for the French
frigate, and turned to hear Wallingford's answer. All his natural
jealousy of a rival in love, and deep-hidden suspicion of a man who had
openly confessed himself a conservative, were again roused.
"I have taken oath, and I wear the uniform of our American navy, sir,"
replied Wallingford quietly. "My father taught me that a gentleman
should stand by his word. I was not among those who wished to hasten so
sad a war, and I believe that our victory must be the long defeat of our
prosperity; but since there is war and we have become independent, my
country has a right to claim my service. The captain knows the
circumstances which brought me here, and I thank him for giving me his
confidence." The young man blushed like a girl, but Captain Paul Jones
smiled and said nothing.
"You have spoken like your father's son,--and like the son of Madam
Wallingford," added Mr. Franklin. "I must say that I honor your
behavior. I trust that your high principle may never fail you, my young
friend, but you are putting it to greater strain than if you stood among
the Patriots, who can see but one side." The sage old man looked at the
lieutenant with a mild benevolence and approval that were staying to the
heart. Then a shrewd, quick smile lighted his eyes again.
"You should be one of the knights of old come out on his lady's quest,"
said Mr. Benjamin Franklin; and the young man, who might have blushed
again and been annoyed at the jest, only smiled back as he might have
smiled at his own father, whose look had sometimes been as kind, as wise
and masterful, as this of the old Commissioner.
Captain Paul Jones was in no mind that this hour should be wasted, even
though it was a pleasant thing to see an old man and a young one so
happily at home together. He wished to speak again for himself, and now
rose with a formal air.
"Sir, I pray you not to condemn me without hearing me. I have my
enemies, as you have come to know. I am convinced that at least one of
Mr. Lee's secretaries is a British spy. I do not blame England for
watching us, but I accuse Mr. Lee. If his fault is ignorance, he is
still guilty. I desire also to lay before you my plans for a cruise
with the Ranger."
Mr. Roger Wallingford left his own chair with sudden impulse, and stood
beside his captain. He was a head taller and a shoulder-breadth
broader, with the look of an old-fashioned English country gentleman, in
spite of his gold lace and red waistcoat and the cocked hat of a
lieutenant of marines.
"I have already reminded you, sir, and the other honorable
Commissioners," the captain continued, speaking quickly, "that I have
the promise of a better ship than the Ranger, and that my opportunities
of serving the Congress must wait in great measure upon the event of
that promise being fulfilled. I have also to make formal complaint of
the misdemeanors of some members of my present crew. I have fixed upon
the necessity of this, and the even greater necessity for money, as our
men lack clothes, and we are running short in every way. Our men are
clamorous for their pay; I have advanced them a large sum on my own
account. And we are already short of men; we must soon take action in
regard to the exchange of prisoners toward this end."
"Wait a few moments, Captain," said the Commissioner. "Mr. Deane and Mr.
Adams should listen to your reasonable requests and discuss these
projects. With your permission, we can dispense with the advice of Mr.
Lee. I have here under consideration some important plans of the French
Minister of Marine."
There was a happy consciousness in the hearts of both the younger men
that they had passed a severe examination not wholly without credit, and
that the old Commissioner would stand their friend. There were still a
few minutes of delay; and while the captain hastily reviewed his own
thick budget of papers, Wallingford glanced often at Mr. Franklin's worn
face and heavy figure, remembering that he had lately said that his life
was now at its fag-end, and might be used and taken for what it was
worth. All the weight of present cares and all the weariness of age
could not forbid the habit of kindly patience and large wisdom which
belonged to this very great man.
..vspace:: 2
"You are a dumb gentleman!" exclaimed the captain as they came away.
"You sat there, most of the time, like an elder of the kirk, but you and
Mr. Franklin seemed to understand each other all the better. The higher
a man gets, the less he needs of speech. My Lord Selkirk and his mates
and my dear Duke of Chartres, they do it all with a nod and a single
word, but poor folks may chatter the day through. I was not so
garrulous myself to-day?" he said, appealing for approval; and
Wallingford, touched by such humility, hastened to assure him that the
business of the Ranger had been, in his opinion, most handsomely
conducted. The captain's fiery temper might well have mounted its war
chariot at certain junctures.
"Listen!" said Paul Jones, as they climbed the long slopes toward Paris
and their good horses settled into a steady gait. "I have often been
uncertain of you since we came to sea; yet I must have a solid knowledge
that you are right at heart, else I could not have had you with me
to-day. But you have been so vexingly dumb; you won't speak out, you
don't concern yourself!" and the captain swore gently under his breath.
Wallingford felt a touch of hot rage; then he laughed easily. "Poor
Dickson will be disappointed if I do not prove a spy in the end," he
said. "Look, captain; Mr. Franklin gave me these letters. The packet
came for us by the last ship."
The lieutenant had already found time to take a hasty look at two
letters of his own; his young heart was heating fast against them at
that moment. His mother's prim and delicate handwriting was like a
glimpse of her face; and he had seen that Mary Hamilton had also written
him in the old friendly, affectionate way, with complete unconsciousness
of those doubts and shadows which so shamed his own remembrance.
*XXIII*
*THE SALUTE TO THE FLAG*
"Nor deem that acts heroic wait on chance,
* * * * *
The man's whole life preludes the single deed
That shall decide if his inheritance
Be with the sifted few of matchless breed."
In midwinter something happened that lifted every true heart on board.
There had been dull and dreary weeks on board the Ranger, with plots for
desertion among the crew, and a general look of surliness and reproach
on all faces. The captain was eagerly impatient in sending his
messengers to Nantes when the Paris post might be expected, and was ever
disappointed at their return. The discipline of the ship became more
strict than before, now that there was little else to command or insist
upon. The officers grew tired of one another's company, and kept to
their own quarters, or passed each other without speaking. It was easy,
indeed, to be displeased with such a situation, and to fret at such an
apparently needless loss of time, even if there were nothing else to
fret about.
At last there was some comfort in leaving Nantes, and making even so
short a voyage as to the neighboring Breton port of L'Orient, where the
Ranger was overhauled and refitted for sea; yet even here the men
grumbled at their temporary discomforts, and above all regretted Nantes,
where they could amuse themselves better ashore. It was a hard, stormy
winter, but there were plenty of rich English ships almost within hand's
reach. Nobody could well understand why they had done nothing, while
such easy prey came and went in those waters, from Bordeaux and the
coast of Spain, even from Nantes itself.
On a certain Friday orders were given to set sail, and the Ranger made
her way along the coast to Quiberon, and anchored there at sunset,
before the bay's entrance, facing the great curve of the shores. She had
much shipping for company: farther in there lay a fine show of French
frigates with a convoy, and four ships of the line. The captain scanned
these through his glass, and welcomed a great opportunity: he had come
upon a division of the French navy, and one of the frigates flew the
flag of a rear admiral, La Motte Pique.
The wind had not fallen at sundown. All night the Ranger tossed about
and tugged at her anchor chains, as if she were impatient to continue
her adventures, like the men between her sides. All the next day she
rode uneasily, and clapped her sailcloth and thrummed her rigging in the
squally winter blast, until the sea grew quieter toward sundown. Then
Captain Paul Jones sent a boat to the King's fleet to carry a letter.
The boat was long gone. The distance was little, but difficult in such
a sea, yet some of the boats of the country came out in hope of trading
with the Ranger's men. The poor peasants would venture anything, and a
strange-looking, swarthy little man who got aboard nobody knew how,
suddenly approached the captain where he stood, ablaze with impatience,
on the quarter. At his first word Paul Jones burst with startling
readiness into Spanish invective, and then, with a look of pity at the
man's poverty of dress in that icy weather, took a bit of gold from his
pocket. "Barcelona?" said he. "I have had good days in Barcelona,
myself," and bade the Spaniard begone. Then he called him back and
asked a few questions, and, summoning a quartermaster, gave orders that
he should take the sailor's poor gear, and give him a warm coat and cap
from the slop chests.
"He has lost his ship, and got stranded here," said the captain, with
compassion, and then turned again to watch for the boat. "You may roll
the coat and cap into a bundle; they are quaint-fashioned things," he
added carelessly, as the quartermaster went away. The bay was now alive
with small Breton traders, and at a short distance away there was a
droll little potato fleet making hopefully for the Ranger. The headmost
boat, however, was the Ranger's own, with an answer to the captain's
letter. He gave an anxious sigh and laid down his glass. He had sent
to say frankly to the rear admiral that he flew the new American flag,
and that no foreign power had yet saluted it, and to ask if his own
salute to the Royal Navy of France would be properly returned. It was
already in the last fluster of the February wind, and the sea was going
down; there was no time to be lost. He broke the great seal of his
answer with a trembling hand, and at the first glance pressed the letter
to his breast.
The French frigates were a little apart from their convoy, and rolled
sullenly in a solemn company, their tall masts swaying like time-keepers
against the pale winter sky. The low land lay behind them, its line
broken here and there by strange mounds, and by ancient altars of the
druids, like clumsy, heavy-legged beasts standing against the winter
sunset. The captain gave orders to hoist the anchor, nobody knew why,
and to spread the sails, when it was no time to put to sea. He stood
like a king until all was done, and then passed the word for his gunners
to be ready, and steered straight in toward the French fleet.
They all understood now. The little Ranger ran slowly between the
frowning ships, looking as warlike as they; her men swarmed like bees
into the rigging; her colors ran up to salute the flag of his most
Christian Majesty of France, and she fired one by one her salute of
thirteen guns.
There was a moment of suspense. The wind was very light now; the powder
smoke drifted away, and the flapping sails sounded loud overhead. Would
the admiral answer, or would he treat this bold challenge like a
handkerchief waved at him from a pleasure boat? Some of the officers on
the Ranger looked incredulous, but Paul Jones still held his letter in
his hand. There was a puff of white smoke, and the great guns of the
French flagship began to shake the air,--one, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight, _nine_; and then were still, save for their echoes
from the low hills about Carnac and the great druid mount of St.
Michael.
"Gardner, you may tell the men that this was the salute of the King of
France to our Republic, and the first high honor to our colors," said
the captain proudly to his steersman. But they were all huzzaing now
along the Ranger's decks,--that little ship whose name shall never be
forgotten while her country lives.
"We hardly know what this day means, gentlemen," he said soberly to his
officers, who came about him. "I believe we are at the christening of
the greatest nation that was ever born into the world."
The captain lifted his hat, and stood looking up at the Flag.
*XXIV*
*WHITEHAVEN*
"The only happiness a man ought to ask for is happiness enough to get
his work done."
Early in April the Ranger was still waiting to put to sea. She had been
made ready and trained for action like a single gun, in her long weeks
at Brest. The captain had gone away on a mysterious errand, afterward
reported to be a visit to Amsterdam directed by Mr. Franklin, who wished
for information regarding the affairs of the Commissioners and the loss
of their frigate. Paul Jones carried with him the poor dress of that
Spanish seaman who had hoarded him at Quiberon, and made good use of the
Basque cap and his own sufficient knowledge of the Spanish language. To
Wallingford only he gave any news of the journey, and it was only
Wallingford whom he made his constant companion in frequent visits to
the Duke of Chartres and his duchess, at their country house near the
city.
The Sailor Prince had welcomed this American captain and friend with all
the affection with which he had said farewell in Virginia, and hastened
to present him to his wife, who was not only one of the most charming of
French ladies, and a great-grand-daughter of Louis Quatorze, but
granddaughter of the great Count of Toulouse, that sailor son of the
King, who had won the famous sea fight off Malaga against the Dutch and
English fleets, seventy years before. The beautiful duchess was quick
to recognize a hero. She was most proud of her seafaring ancestor, and
listened with delight to Paul Jones as he spoke with some French
officers of the Malaga victory, and showed his perfect acquaintance with
its strategy. She found him handsome, spirited, and full of great
qualities, and at once gave her warmest friendship to him and to his
cause.
All the degrading side of a sailor's life and hardships, all the
distresses that Paul Jones and Roger Wallingford had known on board the
Ranger, faded away like bad dreams when they stood in her presence. They
were both true gentlemen at heart; they were also servants of their own
country in France; and now every door flew open before their wishes; the
future seemed but one long triumph and delight. Paul Jones, the poor
Scottish lad who had steadily followed his splendid vision, had come at
last very near to its reality, and to the true joys of an unfailing
friendship.