So severe was the damage done the Ariel, that she was not able to leave
port again for America until the 18th of December. As she carried a very
valuable cargo of arms, besides important dispatches, and was weakly
armed, Paul Jones was directed by Dr. Franklin, who was still the
representative of America in France, to avoid rather than seek a
conflict with the enemy. To a man of Paul Jones’s temperament these
directions were almost impossible to follow. But fortunately for Dr.
Franklin, and perhaps fortunately for Paul Jones’s enemies, he had no
serious encounter until he was near the Island of Barbadoes. He had
chosen the southern passage, because his enemies expected him to take
the usual northern passage.
On a warm afternoon in the latter part of January, as the Ariel was
proceeding under a fair wind, a remarkably fast sailing frigate was
observed approaching on the opposite tack. The Ariel was deep in the
water with her heavy stores, and as Paul Jones appreciated the necessity
for prudence, he rather wished to avoid speaking the stranger, as she
was tolerably certain to be a British ship.
The officers were all on deck examining the frigate, when Paul Jones,
who had his glass to his eye, turned to them and said, smiling:
“I am sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen, but I don’t think we can ‘see’
her. She is too heavy for us, and sails too well. It is not our own
lives and fortunes that we would stake, but the arms for the soldiers of
Washington, and that would be an irreparable loss if we were captured.
So we must cut and run for it.”
The officers at once saw the wisdom of this, although they would have
dearly liked a brush with the beautiful frigate. Dale, however, in
turning around, caught sight of Bill Green, with Danny Dixon by his
side, and both of them on the broad grin. Bill’s mouth was literally
stretched from ear to ear.
“What is it, Green?” asked Dale, who was a great favorite with the
veteran quartermaster, “what are you smiling at?”
“I ain’t a-smilin’, sir,” replied Bill, showing every tooth in his mouth
in a perfectly phenomenal grin, while Danny openly “snickered” behind
his hand.
“What are you doing then?” inquired Dale, smiling in spite of himself.
“Well, then, sir, since you axes me,” replied Bill, trying to look very
solemn, and putting up his hand to conceal his laughter, “the cap’n says
as he ain’t got no notion o’ fightin’ that ’ere craft. I reckon he
_thinks_ he ain’t, but if Cap’n Paul Jones kin come within range o’ a
British ship without takin’ a shot at her, why, sir, my name ain’t Bill
Green, and I ain’t never see Cap’n Paul Jones. That’s all, sir.” At
which Bill ended with a suppressed guffaw, and Dale himself winked
knowingly.
“Be careful what you say of the captain,” said Dale, with another wink;
“he’s got no notion of fighting. She’s too heavy for us, and you know
the captain never tackles a ship that’s too heavy for him,” and Dale
winked prodigiously at every word he uttered.
“That’s true, sir,” grinned Bill, “but if you’ll excuse a old fellow,
Mr. Dale, I see you has on a new uniform, sir, and I’d be advisin’ of
you to git out your old clo’es, because it jest might happen, sir, that
the Britisher might fire at us; and then, axerdentally, sir, somebody
might pull a lockstring, and the port might be open, sir, and the shot
might hit the Britisher, and then, without the cap’n a-wantin’ it, as
knowin’ as how the enemy was too heavy for him, he might have to fight
agin his will. ’Tain’t ornlikely, sir, that somethin’ might come of it,
and the cap’n may _have_ to fight, sir, though he mortially hates to.”
Dale passed on laughing, went below, and took Bill Green’s advice; he
took off his new undress uniform, and put on another one rather the
worse for wear. Just as he was finishing his toilet, Danny Dixon tapped
at the door of his cabin.
“If you please, sir, the cap’n sends his compliments, and wants to see
you on deck.”
In a few moments Dale was on deck. As he walked up to Paul Jones, the
captain said:
“I looked about for you, and my boy told me you had gone below to
shift.”
“Yes,” answered Dale, with a gleam in his eyes. “We know that you don’t
care to tackle that ship; she’s too heavy for us, and you never like to
fight except when you are on an equality; but all the same, as Bill
Green says, ‘something may come of it,’ so I went below to take off my
uniform, which is a little too good to wear upon such an occasion as
_may_ arise.”
Paul Jones looked sternly at Dale for a moment, and then, in spite of
himself, burst out laughing.
Nevertheless, the Ariel carried all sail to escape the ship, which was
now evidently pursuing. As darkness came on the Ariel seemed to be
gaining, and during the night watches the officers reported that she was
completely out of sight. Just as the darkness melted into dawn, however,
Paul Jones, who had been on deck several times during the night,
appeared, and as the faint gray of the early light illumined the sky he
pointed astern. There was the frigate, flying a British ensign, and not
more than a mile away.
Without drumbeat, or any noise whatever, the Ariel was cleared for
action. She was not sailing her best, owing to her deeply laden
condition, and Paul Jones ordered everything thrown overboard that could
impede her sailing and fighting qualities. This so much improved the
sailing of the ship that she now stretched her legs in earnest.
Everybody on board felt perfectly certain that the captain meant to
fight, but as the frigate was now plainly pursuing the American sloop of
war, Paul Jones wished to test the sailing and manœuvring of his ship
under her lighter conditions before engaging. This conduct evidently
puzzled the frigate, and the state of uncertainty was further increased
by the Ariel hoisting British colors, but occasionally firing a stern
chaser as she ran away. At last, toward night, Paul Jones, having made
all his preparations, the Ariel hauled up her mainsail, took in her
royal yards, and waited for her enemy. She had not yet hoisted her
American colors, but her batteries were lighted up and her ports open.
“Why, Green,” said Dale, passing him, as Danny Dixon appeared with a
string of battle lanterns ready to be lighted, “it looks as if we were
going to have a brush, after all.”
“It do, sir,” answered Bill solemnly. “The cap’n mortially hated it, and
it do seem funny he couldn’t help it when the ship was gittin’ over the
water so much faster than she was in the beginnin’. It puzzles me, it
do,” he added, shaking his head waggishly.
The two ships were now within hail. It was Paul Jones’s intention to
send up the American ensign as soon as the enemy had got near enough to
recognize it in the fast gathering gloom, but the sailor who had hoisted
the British ensign had not taken care to make fast the other end of the
halyards, so as to draw it down rapidly, and there was some difficulty
in getting the British colors down and the American colors up. This
enabled the British ship to range up close under the lee quarter of the
Ariel.
The short tropical twilight was fast deepening into night, but a
brilliant moon trembled in the heavens, and the dark-blue dome was
flecked with stars. The two ships lay close to each other, like phantom
ships upon the water, but the light from their lanterns and batteries
glowed redly.
In the midst of a deathlike silence Lieutenant Lunt’s voice rang out the
questions given him in a whisper by Paul Jones, who stood near him.
“Ship ahoy! What ship is that?” asked Lunt.
“His Majesty’s ship Triumph,” replied the British captain.
“Of how many guns?” asked Lunt.
Everybody awaited the answer to this in breathless silence. There was a
long pause, and Lunt repeated his question.
The answer came back purposely unintelligible. Officers and men cast
significant glances around. That meant the British ship was ready to
fight if the stranger should prove an enemy.
“What is the name of your captain?” was next asked.
“Captain John Pindar.”
“Any news from the rebels?” asked Lunt.
This threw the British captain off his guard, particularly as the sailor
had not yet been able to get the British colors down, and they were
still flying. Captain Pindar came to the rail of the Triumph and gave a
long account of affairs in America, which were progressing badly for the
British. After all the information possible had been obtained, most of
which was highly satisfactory to the Americans, Paul Jones himself
called out:
“Put out your boat and come on board, bringing your commission, so that
I can see whether you are really in the British navy or not.”
At this Captain Pindar’s suspicions were excited, and it was some
moments before he replied:
“You have not told me who you are, and, besides, my boat is leaky.”
Just then the British colors came down and the American ensign was
hoisted.
“Look at my ensign,” cried Paul Jones, “and consider the danger of
refusing.”
To this the British captain pluckily replied:
“I will answer for twenty guns on my ship, and I and every one of my
people are Englishmen.”
“I will give you five minutes to make up your mind to come on board,”
said Paul Jones, “and if you do not, at the end of that time I shall
fire into you.”
Then, all at once, the people on the Triumph waked up to their danger.
The five minutes were spent in hurried preparation by them, but on the
Ariel every man was at his station, and not one moved or spoke.
The five minutes being up, the Ariel backed her topsails, ran close
under the stern of the Triumph, and let fly her broadside. The men in
the tops also gave a volley. The British, unprepared, fired
ineffectively and without order. The Triumph was so obviously at the
mercy of the Ariel that within ten minutes her colors were hauled down
and a cry for quarter resounded. Instantly the order to cease firing was
given, and the Americans gave three cheers. But while they were yet
cheering they observed that the British ship had shaken out her sails
and was drawing ahead. The smoke of the two or three broadsides fired
hid her for a moment, and when it drifted off the Triumph was observed
to be some distance off on the weather quarter of the Ariel, and
tacking.
Paul Jones instantly suspected the treachery of the Triumph’s captain,
because it is a part of the code of morals in war that a surrender
should be in good faith, particularly when quarter has been asked for
and given. The Ariel immediately set her mainsail and made after the
fleeing ship. But it was in vain. The Triumph had too long a lead, and,
the night suddenly becoming dark, she was lost to sight. Although Paul
Jones had conquered, his prey had escaped.
The Americans were indignant, but indignation could do no good. They
then resumed their course toward America, and on the 18th of February,
1781, the Ariel cast anchor in the harbor of Philadelphia. Paul Jones
had been absent from America three years, three months, and eighteen
days. In that time he had struck terror upon the coasts of England,
Scotland, and Ireland; he had defied the might of England, had
vanquished every enemy with which he had fought, and had made himself
one of the heroes of the sea, whose name will live as long as ships
traverse the ocean.