HOW THE RANGER FOUGHT THE DRAKE
With cries of joy both Ethan and Longsword heard these welcome words.
Ethan brought the schooner to; in a few moments a boat was lowered and
rowed away from the American ship. When Wallingford, third lieutenant
of the Ranger, climbed over the schooner’s rail he was astonished to
find himself grasped by the hand.
“What, Carlyle,” he cried in amazement.
“None other,” laughed the boy. “You aren’t rid of me yet, you see.”
“We thought you taken by the enemy on St. Mary’s Isle.”
“So I was; but it’s a long story and will keep. You’d better have some
men sent on board to take charge of this craft. It’s a prize that
Longsword and I took some distance up the coast.”
Lieutenant Wallingford looked his surprise, but said nothing. A crew
was soon placed on board the Condor, and Ethan and the Irish dragoon
were taken to the Ranger.
John Paul Jones was undisguisedly delighted at the unexpected return of
the two adventurers. He shook their hands and expressed his pleasure
warmly.
“We are headed for Carrickfergus,” he said. “We understand that the
frigate Drake has orders to come out after us.”
“She is already out,” said Ethan eagerly. “We met her and slipped away
from her less than an hour ago.”
“Hah!” said the commander of the Ranger, “then the struggle may be
nearer at hand than I fancied.”
He took Ethan down into the cabin, and listened to the news which the
lad had of the dispatch.
“The villain,” cried the captain, with flushed face, when he heard of
Danvers’ charge against Ethan and himself regarding the paper. “It will
go hard with him if I ever come within reach of him.”
They talked for some time; the Ranger was once more under way and her
nose was headed for Carrickfergus as before. Ethan and Longsword slept
well that morning after they turned in, and awoke just as the Ranger
ran into the outer harbor of the Irish port.
The Drake was there, having arrived some hours earlier, and just as
Ethan came on deck her captain was sending off a boat to the Ranger to
find out what she was. The boat was in charge of a hectoring British
lieutenant, and as it came alongside the American vessel he cried
sharply,
“Now you, sir, what ship is this?”
There came no answer from the Ranger; the lieutenant saw a long line
of grinning faces looking down at him over her rail and he grew purple
with rage.
“You unmannerly rascals,” he roared, “I’ll teach you respect to a
king’s officer.”
He gave a command to his men; they dropped their oars, seized their
arms and followed him up the Ranger’s side. The vessel’s ports were
closed and the lieutenant had mistaken her for a saucy merchantman.
But imagine his consternation when he found himself upon the deck of
a fully armed ship and face to face with a smiling young officer who
politely demanded his sword.
“What ship is this?” he demanded weakly.
“The Continental sloop-of-war, Ranger,” answered John Paul Jones, still
smiling. “I think your commander has been in search of us.”
“He has,” answered the lieutenant, filled with anger at the result of
his own and his captain’s lack of caution. “And he’ll sink you now,
sir, you may be sure.”
“That remains to be seen.”
The American looked toward the Drake, which was now hoisting her
anchors and apparently preparing to come out, and added:
“The Drake seems a pretty ship, indeed, in daylight. I have only seen
her once before, and that was under cover of night. She looks as though
she would offer a very interesting battle indeed.”
“You may be sure of that, sir,” answered the British officer stiffly.
Both he and his boat’s crew were disarmed and sent below; then their
boat was cast off and the Ranger made ready for action. While this was
being done Ethan cried suddenly to Captain Jones:
“Look there, sir!”
He pointed toward the British ship as he spoke; and the captain saw a
number of boats containing soldiers, pulling out to her.
“Oh, Captain Burdon of the Drake is adding to his ship’s company,”
commented he, evenly. “Well, perhaps he’ll need them.”
“They look like volunteers, by their uniform,” remarked Longsword.
In this the Irish dragoon was right. A Lieutenant William Dobbs had
been engaged in recruiting a band for coast defense in the neighborhood
of Carrickfergus; he had offered them to Captain Burdon for service
upon the Drake at this crisis, and they had been accepted.
The regular ship’s company of the frigate was one hundred and fifty
officers and men; she carried two more guns than the Ranger, but they
were lighter; and so the vessels were pretty evenly matched.
The Drake finally stood out to sea toward the Ranger; the wind was
blowing toward the shore and her progress was rather slow. Captain
Jones remarked quietly to Ethan,
“In an hour or less the story will be told. I trust that the Lascar,
Siki, is aboard this ship, as Danvers said; for after I take her I
should very much like to question him.”
Just then Longsword came aft with a serious look upon his face.
Saluting he said,
“Captain dear, there’s a ruction among the men, so there is.”
“What do you mean?” asked the officer quickly.
“I mean that they are growling among themselves like a pack of sullen
dogs for’ard, there. It shames me to say it, sir, but I fancy that they
have little stomach for the fight.”
The commander swept the deck of his ship with angry eye. The crew stood
in groups, sullen and lowering; Lieutenants Simpson and Hall were upon
the quarter-deck, and every action and word that they uttered seemed to
add to the growing feeling among the men.
“This vessel is no match for a well set up frigate,” said Simpson, in
a voice that carried to the ears of his captain. “We’ve come out after
prizes, and not to be slaughtered by the guns of men-of-war.”
“The Drake carries more weight of metal than we,” agreed Hall, “and if
I were in command of this ship I’d make a clean run for it. To wait for
this frigate is to wait for plenty of hard knocks, little credit and no
plunder.”
With a few swift steps John Paul Jones was at his side; there had
been a low murmur of approval from the seamen at these words of their
officers; and the commander’s eyes were stormy, and flashed menacingly
as they rested upon his lieutenants’ dogged faces.
“So, gentlemen,” said he in a voice like ice, “I find you still at your
old trick of demoralization, do I?”
“I don’t understand you, sir,” said Simpson drawing himself erect.
“Nor I, Captain Jones,” said Hall.
“Then allow me to make my meaning plain. Since this ship sailed from
Portsmouth you have been daily increasing in your insubordination.
Things have come to such a pass that it almost seems necessary for me
to consult you before issuing a command.”
“A good captain always consults his officers,” said Simpson with a
thinly-veiled sneer.
“In spite of the protestations which I offered that day on St. Mary’s
Isle, you plundered the home of a defenseless woman. I submitted rather
than risk a mutiny that would deprive my country of a valuable vessel.
But if you think that I will continue to submit, you are very much
mistaken.”
Simpson and Hall exchanged glances and smiled. The captain saw this and
his eyes flashed with a more dangerous light.
“You are inciting to mutiny in the face of the enemy,” said he, still
in the same cold, even voice. “And that is punishable by death.”
The two men started, and the smiles fled from their faces.
“I order you to your stations and expect you to carry out my orders to
the letter. At the slightest sign of disinclination upon your part to
do so, I’ll clap you in irons and take you to France for trial before
the commissioners. To your posts, gentlemen.”
The two officers, pale of face and furtive-eyed, went to their places
at the batteries as commanded. John Paul Jones followed them with his
eyes for a moment. Then he said to Wallingford, who had stood by ready
to support him in case of need,
“Mr. Wallingford, have the bos’en pipe all hands.”
The hoarse call rang through the ship and all the seamen stood at
attention. The commander spoke to them from his quarter-deck.
“Men of the Ranger,” he said, “on this cruise we have taken many prizes
and struck some good blows. We have made the British government fear us
as it never feared ship before. But they have resolved to take us; they
have said that we do not dare to stand and fight their armed ships man
to man and gun for gun. The world has heard this, or at least that part
of it which we care about; the young republic of the west is waiting to
hear of the deeds of the ships which she sent to defy Britain in her
own seas.”
There was a visible stirring among the men; for the greater part they
were mercenary mariners, men of many nations who had shipped for the
booty alone; but there were many Yankees among them, and these felt the
appeal of their chief.
“Shall it be said of us that the first vessel of equal strength which
we have met has daunted us?”
“No!” shouted a voice. And there was a murmur among the crew.
“Then I call upon you to help me fight this ship,” cried the captain,
in ringing tones. “Stand to your guns manfully, and I promise, in one
hour, to give you victory.”
A cheer swelled up and broke into a frantic hurrah; then with a wave of
the hand the chief dismissed them to their stations.
“They will fight now,” remarked Ethan to Longsword.
“They will, faith,” said the Irish dragoon. “And it’s little chance of
defeat we have if they do their best, for there are some useful lads
among them, Master Ethan.”
John Paul Jones now stood out to sea and drew his foe as far away from
shore as possible.
“In case he is defeated,” said the commander to Ethan, “Burdon might
escape back into the harbor if we fought too far in shore.”
“Look at the yachts coming out with her,” said the young American who
had watched every movement of the Englishman.
Paul Jones laughed.
“They desire to be eye-witnesses of an English victory, doubtless. It
is a pity to dash their hopes, but I’m afraid that we will be forced to
do so.”
When at last the British frigate had come within easy distance, she
hailed.
“What vessel is that?” demanded Captain Burdon.
“The Ranger, Paul Jones, commander. We are waiting for you, so strip
for the fight.”
As he spoke the American captain gave a signal and the stars and
stripes shot up to the masthead; then the helm was suddenly thrown up
and the Ranger darted across the bows of the British vessel and poured
a raking broadside into her. The captain of the Drake tried to bring
the frigate across the Ranger’s stern, but Paul Jones prevented this;
the two ships were now yard arm to yard arm and poured a terrific fire
into each other’s rigging and hulls.
Ethan Carlyle, whose ability as a gunner had been discovered by Captain
Jones long before, had charge of a six pounder in the bow. He and
Longsword, stripped to the waists, and all begrimed with powder smoke,
served this piece with deadly effect.
In the heat of the battle the gallant young Lieutenant Wallingford
rushed up to Ethan.
“Captain Jones desires you to try for her forerigging,” panted he. “If
we can cripple her badly aloft we’ll make her strike.”
Longsword had just rammed a charge into the gun, and Ethan sighted
it coolly. A rain of musket shots was being poured into them by the
soldier volunteers upon the Drake; but the young gunner paid no heed to
this. Applying the match the gun roared redly; the foretop-gallant yard
of the British ship splintered and hung down the mast in a tangle of
rigging.
“Hurrah,” yelled Longsword. “A fine shot, faith!”
“And placed in the right spot,” said Wallingford. Almost as the words
left his mouth, this brave young officer uttered a smothered groan,
clasped both hands to his breast and sank into the arms of the Irish
dragoon.
“Is he hit?” cried Ethan, anxiously, springing forward. “Is he badly
wounded?”
“He have his death, sir,” replied Longsword solemnly. “It’s a
musket-ball, and from the spot it struck, it split the boy’s brave
heart.”
As he spoke the grim Irishman tenderly lowered the still, white form
to the deck; then in silence, and with set, hard faces, he and Ethan
Carlyle once more turned to the serving of the gun.
At length the Drake was little more than a wreck; her rigging and yards
were a wilderness of broken spars and ropes; her canvas was in shreds
and two flags had been shot away. Half her guns were dismounted and out
of action, and forty of her crew were killed or disabled when at last
she struck.
Ethan was with Captain Jones when he boarded the prize; when the
prisoners were lined up for inspection they were bitterly disappointed
to find that the Lascar was not among them. While Captain Jones was
giving his attention to the repairing of the worst damages and the care
of the wounded Ethan questioned the boatswain’s mate of the defeated
ship.
“A blackamoor, eh,” said the man, thoughtfully. “Now let me see! Oh,
yes! I remember. He was taken on board when we stopped in the harbor
near St. Mary’s Isle not so long ago. We kept him safely guarded and
ironed, sir, for it was said that he was an important prisoner; but on
our second day at Carrickfergus he gave us the slip, somehow, and none
of us have seen anything of him since.”