but the Americans, now thoroughly aroused to the defense of their
ideals, flocked around Paul Jones in such numbers that the king's men
fell back, picked up their helpless companion, and hurried aboard their
ships.
Expecting that, after the custom of the day, Lieutenant Parker might
challenge him to a duel, Paul Jones at once proceeded to make
arrangements with a friend, Mr. Granville Hurst, to represent him in the
event of any negotiations.
"Propose pistols at ten paces," said the young planter. "Advise the
gentleman I will meet him at Craney Island, at such time as he may
desire."
But this meeting never took place, for the very good reason that
Lieutenant Parker heard about Paul Jones's unerring use of a pistol; his
sloop departed at ebb tide for Charlestown, and, so far as he was
concerned personally, the incident seemed closed.
The Colonists, however, did not forget it in a hurry. Like wildfire the
news of the encounter spread. Colonial newspapers all gave considerable
space to it. Suddenly Paul Jones found himself the most-talked-of man in
Virginia. He was the hero of men, women, and children. Unofficially he
had struck the first blow of the threatening conflict with England.
V
THE BIRTH OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY
The following spring--that of 1775--Paul Jones decided to board his
sloop and make a little pleasure trip by sea to Boston. With his crew
and two favorite slaves, Cato and Scipio, he sailed down the river,
worked out into the Atlantic, and keeping close to the New Jersey
headlands, pointed north.
When he reached New York he dropped anchor, intending to meet some of
his friends in that city. One of the very first of these he encountered
was William Livingston. This patriot's face showed plenty of excitement.
"Paul, have you heard the news?" he asked.
"I have not been favored," replied Paul Jones. "I trust it is nothing
serious concerning your own family."
"I fear it _is_ serious; but it concerns my family no more than it
concerns any other family in the Colonies," was William Livingston's
answer. "Paul, my friend, the British have beaten us at Lexington!"
Paul Jones was gravely concerned. He plied his friend with many
questions. After a long discussion they parted. The young planter
immediately gave up his plans for visiting Boston; he wished to go home
and in the seclusion of the plantation calmly think over the matter and
decide what to do.
Within twenty-four hours after his arrival he sent to Thomas Jefferson
the following letter:
"It is, I think, to be taken for granted that there can be no more
temporizing. I am too recently from the mother country, and my
knowledge of the temper of the king, his ministers, and their
majority in the House of Commons, is too fresh to allow me to
believe that anything is, or possibly can be in store except either
war to the knife or total submission to complete slavery.
"... I cannot conceive of submission to complete slavery; therefore
only war is in sight. The Congress, therefore, must soon meet
again, and when it meets it must face the necessity of taking those
measures which it did not take last fall in its first session,
namely, provision for armament by land and sea.
"Such being clearly the position of affairs, I beg you to keep my
name in your memory when the Congress shall assemble again, and in
any provision that may be taken for a naval force, to call upon me
in any capacity which your knowledge of my seafaring experience and
your opinions of my qualifications may dictate."
One morning, a short time after this, Paul Jones received word that two
French frigates had come to anchor in Hampton Roads. With the
hospitality of the true sailor and true Virginia planter he loaded his
sloop with the best green vegetables the plantation afforded, and
started down the Rappahannock to welcome the newcomers.
The two frigates were in command of Captain De Kersaint, one of the
ablest officers in the French navy, who afterwards became an admiral.
The second in command was no less than the Duc De Chartres, eldest son
of the Duc D'Orléans, who had sent De Chartres to America on a "cruise
of instruction," to fit him for the hereditary post of Lord High Admiral
of France. He was Paul Jones's own age exactly, and with his charming
wife, the Duchesse De Chartres, he received the young planter with a
great cordiality. Their liking for Paul Jones increased as they chatted.
In fact, the Duke himself took such a violent fancy to their guest that
when the latter asked if he might be shown plans of the construction of
their splendid frigate. _La Terpischore_, with a view to offering
suggestions to the Colonists in building war craft, the French nobleman
readily assented. With royal prerogative he ordered his ship's carpenter
to make deck and sail drawings, hull details,--everything that could in
any way aid the young Scotchman in understanding the essential
constructive features of the vessel.
It was of inestimable advantage to Paul Jones to have had the
opportunity of inspecting at such close range, much less get drawings
of, one of the best and most modern ships of the French navy. It is not
strange that the American frigate _Alliance_, built some time later,
followed closely the same general lines as _La Terpischore_; that she
mounted the same battery--twenty-eight long 12-pounders on the gun deck,
and ten long 9-pounders above. Was this merely a coincidence? Or, on the
other hand, did the young Scotchman have a hand in the matter?
At a meeting of the Continental Congress on May 10, 1775, the Naval
Committee invited Paul Jones to lay before it such information and
advice as might seem to him useful in assisting the committee in
discharging its labors. Paul Jones felt strongly on the subject of
establishing a navy, and thought that the only way to start was to offer
prizes to the crews of privateersmen. In a letter to Joseph Hewes he
observed:
"If our enemies, with the best established and most formidable navy
in the universe, have found it expedient to assign all prizes to
the captors, how much more is such policy essential to our infant
fleet? But I need no argument to convince you of the necessity of
making the emoluments of our navy equal, if not superior, to
theirs."
In this appeal to Congress there was good common-sense. Paul Jones was
not actuated by a love of gain; he was in the struggle because he
thought it a righteous cause. Yet he knew that while he had the profits
of his plantation for the past two or three seasons--some 4000
pounds--to fall back upon when his Government allowances should fail to
meet expenses, the average Colonist did not. The wives and children of
the latter must be fed and clothed while he was away fighting. Unless
he could be promised ample revenue from prizes, Paul Jones knew that
Jack would fight half-heartedly and in the dumps, even though he loved
his country in every fiber of his being. His pitifully inadequate
Government allowance of eight dollars a month was surely no attraction.
On November 15, 1776, Congress improved this situation somewhat, but did
not meet Paul Jones's wishes in the matter, by resolving "that a bounty
of twenty dollars be paid to the commanders, officers, and men, of such
Continental ships or vessels of war as shall make a prize of any British
ships or vessels of war, for every cannon on board such a prize at the
time of such capture; and eight dollars per head for every man then on
board and belonging to such prize."
In addition to this General Washington approved the following
distribution of the prize: "That the captain or commander should receive
six shares; the first-lieutenant, five, the second-lieutenant and the
surgeon, four; the master, three; steward, two; mate, gunner,
gunner's-mate, boatswain, and sergeant, one and one-half shares; the
private, one share." Nothing was said about the poor cook. Undoubtedly
he ranked with the ordinary seaman when the time of distribution came.
To all intents and purposes an American, the truth remains that Paul
Jones was a Scotchman. His enthusiastic soul was wholly for the cause of
liberty in his new country, but the men who envied him and wanted the
offices for which his high capabilities fitted him so signally never let
him and others forget that he was an alien. This was, of course, quite
absurd; for what were they themselves? What had they been until a few
months ago? The fact is, Paul Jones had served under three masters,
until he was a far more competent officer than many of those in the
established navies of Europe, where influence and patronage often made
officers of men of long lineage and short experience.
Thus in the _Journal of Congress_, dated December 22, 1775, the name of
Paul Jones heads the list of first-lieutenants, instead of the list of
captains as it should. His friend Joseph Hewes, who championed the
candidates from the southern colonies, had done his best to make the
young planter a captain, but had failed at the antagonism of John Adams,
who represented the candidates from the northern colonies, which
demanded full control of naval affairs.
When affairs had at last been worked down to a point of action by sea,
the nucleus of the first navy of the new country consisted of the
_Alfred_, the _Columbus_, the _Andrew Doria_, the _Providence_, and the
_Cabot_. Five little ships to face the finely-appointed scores of
frigates and sloops-of-war in the service of the king!
VI
RAISING THE FIRST AMERICAN FLAG
That winter of 1776 was a cold one. Snow had lain heavy in the streets
of Philadelphia since frigid blasts had brought the first downfall in
December. In January, the Delaware River, like every other stream in the
country, was locked in the grip of ice, ice a foot or more in thickness.
It was only by the constant plying up and down stream of a couple of
sturdy whaling-ships, equipped with steel-jacketed bows, that an open
channel could be maintained in the Delaware for the passage of ordinary
wooden-hulled craft.
Along the waterfront of the city innumerable masts and spars made a
somber network against the dull blue of the winter sky. On board some of
the larger of the vessels, despite the cold, men were at work repairing
and overhauling. Well down the glittering sea of ice a group of five
ships swung at anchor in the channel. Their decks, too, were a scene of
action.
All of this was taken in with a few swift glances by a quick-stepping,
stalwart young man who came down to the wharf and paused to look about
him. He was a comely-looking fellow, with broad shoulders, and a face as
bronzed as a South Sea Islander's.
It was the young Scotchman and planter, Paul Jones. But his immaculate
linen had been discarded. In its place he appeared in the trim uniform
of a Continental marine lieutenant--blue coat with red-bound
button-holes, round-cuffed blue breeches, and black gaiters.
As he looked about for a boat to take him out to the five ships riding
at anchor, Paul Jones's eye fell on a tall, lithe young man who was just
in the act of tying the painter of a whaler's yawl to one of the wharf
timbers.
Paul Jones stepped briskly up to him. "Pardon me, my fine fellow," he
said, "but a guinea is yours if you will row me out to the larger of yon
vessels, the _Alfred_, where I am in urgent service."
The young man wheeled around, displaying features unmistakably those of
an Indian, but of an unusually intelligent composition. His coal-black
eyes swept over his questioner. "I, Wannashego, will take the white
sea-soldier," he replied in excellent English.
Without further ado, Paul Jones sprang nimbly down into the boat. Its
owner cast loose and followed.
As his companion pulled lustily away in the direction of the American
ships, Paul Jones sat studying the rower. When and where had this
redskin of the American forest picked up such splendid address? What
marvelous trick of fate had possessed him of such skill with the white
man's oars?
"You are an Indian, are you not?" inquired the lieutenant presently.
"An Indian of Narragansett tribe," was the proud reply.
"Where did you learn to handle a boat in this manner?"
"On whaling cruises, sir."
"You belong to one of these whaling-ships at the wharves, then?"
"Yes, sir; to _Walrus_. She lies upstream a bit, sir. Three years I have
been with her."
"How is it you came to leave your people, Wannashego?" asked Paul Jones
curiously.
"My father, Tassa-menna-tayka, a chief who loves the white people, he
sent me from near Martha's Vineyard to learn your ways and be like you,"
declared the young Indian. There was a short pause; he turned his head
for a moment to take his bearings, and then continued: "Sir, I ask if
yonder ships are to fight the great country across the sea?"
"They are, Wannashego."
"You goin' to fight on 'em?"
"I expect to."
"I like to fight on 'em, too," was the sententious rejoinder of the
young redskin.
"Do you mean that?" asked Paul Jones sharply. "If you do, Wannashego, I
think I can get Captain Saltonstall, of my ship, the _Alfred_, to ship
you, as we are short-handed."
"Mean it a heap," said the Indian. "I shoot good. Make two bangs--get
two Red-coats."
Paul Jones laughed. "I hope so. Well, Wannashego, I'll see what I can do
for you."
Shortly the boat's nose touched the accommodation-ladder over the
_Alfred's_ side. The young lieutenant held out the promised guinea to
Wannashego, but the Indian straightened up proudly. "I don't want
money," said he. "I like America country heap much. You fight for him,
so I help you beat our enemies, the Red-coats."
It was a crude expression of sentiment, but Paul Jones interpreted it
correctly, and was deeply affected by it. "Wannashego," he cried,
"return to your captain. If he will release you, and you still want to
fight the Red-coat soldiers of the sea, come to me on this ship
to-morrow and I will stir heaven and earth to make you a member of our
crew."
Captain Saltonstall was to command the ship, but he had not yet arrived.
So, for the present at least, upon Paul Jones rested the duty of
preparing her for sea. Under his leadership, arrangements went on
speedily and smoothly. The _Alfred_ bid fair to be in readiness before
some of her sister ships, it seemed.
Next morning, before the sun was an hour high, a yawl containing two men
was seen approaching. At first the lieutenant thought it might be
Captain Saltonstall himself, but his glass soon showed him his mistake.
It was the young Narragansett Indian, Wannashego, who evidently had
secured one of the sailors of his old ship to row him out to the
_Alfred_.
Paul Jones made him welcome, telling him that he was quite sure the
captain would make no objection when he should appear. Thus Wannashego,
the first and one of the very few full-blooded Indians to fight in the
first navy of this country, became a tentative member of the _Alfred's_
crew. He took hold of his duties happily and energetically, outdoing
many of his white companions.
As for the temporary commander, from the time the foot of Paul Jones
touched the deck of the vessel his active spirit pervaded everything,
and the officers under him, as well as the men, felt the force of his
executive power. Besides working all day, he and the other officers
stood watch and watch on deck throughout the wintry nights, to prevent
desertions; and although every other vessel in the squadron lost men in
this manner, not a single deserter got away from the _Alfred_.
"An' I'll bet a herrin' ag'in a p'tater, mates," remarked Bill Putters,
quartermaster, in the confidence of the forecastle, "that this Leftenant
Jones is a real seaman wot could handle this yere ol' gal better'n
Cap'n Saltonstall. I kin tell it by the cut o' his jib, the way he
squares away to tackle any job he undertakes."
"Bet so, too, Bill," supported the bos'n, Tom Wilkerson; "an' I'll go
you a cooky he's a fighter. He speaks to most of us so soft you might
think his voice was a tune from a fiddle; but, by Johnny! when Pete
Walker didn't do what he told him to, yes'dy, he thundered at him in a
way that made poor Pete's head rattle with the jar, an' Pete perty nigh
dislocated his spinal collum jumpin' to do what he wanted him to. _I'd_
like to see the leftenant in full charge. If we ever met up with any o'
them pets of the king you bet there would be some fur flyin'--an' it
wouldn't be ours as much as theirs, neether!"
One day, in the midst of the bustle of fitting out the ship, Commodore
Hopkins, who was to command the little squadron, came on board the
_Alfred_. He was formally received at the gangway by Paul Jones and
shown over the ship by him.
The commodore was a big, heavy-set man who had spent the best part of
his life at sea. He examined the vessel carefully, but made no
favorable comments, and the young lieutenant began to fear his work had
displeased the senior officer.
But it turned out otherwise. A little later, standing on the
quarter-deck, surrounded by the officers, Commodore Hopkins turned to
Paul Jones and said:
"Your work pleases me extremely, and my confidence in you, sir, is such
that if Captain Saltonstall should not appear by the time these ships
are due to sail, I shall hoist my flag on this ship and give you command
of her."
A flush of gratification arose in Paul Jones's dark face. He bowed with
the graceful courtesy that always distinguished him. "Thank you,
commodore," said he, "and may I be pardoned for expressing the hope that
Captain Saltonstall may not arrive in time! And when your flag is
hoisted on the _Alfred_, I trust there will be ready a flag of the
United Colonies to fly at the peak-halyards. I aspire to be the first
man to raise that flag upon the ocean!"
Commodore Hopkins smiled. "If the Congress is as slow as I expect it
will be, some time will elapse before it will have adopted a flag; and
there will not be time to have one made, much less, before we sail."
In this he was mistaken. The Congress had practically decided upon the
flag, and quite certain of its selection, Paul Jones from his own pocket
had already purchased the materials to make it. Bill Putters was an old
sail-maker, therefore handy with a needle, which it was his boast he
"could steer like a reg'lar tailor-man." To him the young lieutenant
entrusted the making of the first official flag of America they had
seen--a task which swelled old Bill up with a wonderful pride, as well
it might.
One stormy February day, when the channel had been freed from ice enough
for the little squadron to get out, the _Alfred_ was ready to lend her
spotless decks to the formality of the flag-raising. Captain Saltonstall
had arrived some days before. This disappointed Paul Jones. But he was
as ready to do his duty as first-lieutenant, as in the hoped-for higher
office.
The commodore's boat was seen approaching on the chill waters of the
river. The horizon was overcast. Dun clouds, driven by a strong wind,
scurried across the troubled sky. The boatswain's call, "All hands to
muster!" sounded through the ship. In a wonderfully short time, owing to
the careful drilling of Paul Jones, the three hundred sailors and one
hundred marines were drawn up on deck. The sailors, a fine-looking body
of American seamen, were formed in ranks on the port side of the
quarter-deck, while abaft of them stood the marine guard under arms. On
the starboard side were the petty officers, and on the quarter-deck
proper were the commissioned officers in full uniform, swords at their
sides. Paul Jones headed this line.
When it was reported, "All hands up and aft!" Captain Saltonstall
emerged out of the cabin. At this Paul Jones, having previously arranged
it, called out, "Quartermaster!" and Bill Putters, perfectly groomed,
stepped from the ranks of the petty officers and saluted.
In his hand, carefully rolled up, Bill carried a small bundle. Unrolling
this he followed Paul Jones briskly aft to the flagstaff. He affixed the
flag to the halyards, along with the broad pennant of a commodore just
below, saw that the lines were free, and then stood at attention.
Meantime the commodore's boat had reached the ladder, and he came over
the side. Just as his foot touched the quarter-deck the flag with the
pennant, under Paul Jones's energetic hands, was hauled swiftly upward.
At the top the breeze caught it in all its fullness, flung it free to
the air, and the sun at that moment burst through the clouds which had
enveloped it, and bathed the emblem in all its fresh glory.
Every officer from the commodore down instantly removed his cap in
patriotic reverence. The drummer boys beat a double-ruffle. A tremendous
cheer burst from the sailors and marines.
This was not the present well-known Stars-and-Stripes, which was evolved
later, but the Pine-tree and Rattlesnake Flag with the motto, "Don't
Tread On Me!" As an emblem it was not at all artistic; but the men who
now saw it flung to the breeze for the first time thought only of the
sentiment it expressed, a sentiment still paramount in the heart of
every true-blooded American. And among those who so loudly cheered it
no man was more enthusiastic than the young Narragansett Indian,
Wannashego.
Commodore Hopkins advanced toward Lieutenant Paul Jones and said: "I
congratulate you, sir, upon your enterprise. This flag was only adopted
in Congress yesterday. You are the very first to fly it."
Within an hour the _Columbus_, the _Andrew Doria_, the _Cabot_, and the
_Providence_, led by the _Alfred_, were making out toward the open sea
under full spread of canvas, ready to meet whatsoever of the mighty foe
that might appear.
VII
AN INGLORIOUS CRUISE
The first enterprise determined upon was an expedition to the island of
New Providence, in the West Indies. As it had been learned that Fort
Nassau was well supplied with powder and shot--munitions of war sadly
wanting in the Colonies--it was thought a sudden descent might be
profitable.
The moment the English sighted the little squadron, a warning gun was
fired from the fort, and all haste made to remove and conceal as much of
the powder as possible. Delayed in getting into the harbor by a sandbar
at its mouth, further delayed by poor judgment on the part of Commodore
Hopkins, it was some time before the smaller vessels could work their
way in far enough to effect a landing of their marines.
Then it was only to find a small amount of arms and stores awaiting
them. Chagrined at his ill success, the commodore carried off the
governor of the island as a hostage.
Now all sail was set, and the American squadron made its way cautiously
along the New England coast. Although every part of these waters was
swarming with British vessels, it was determined to try to gain an
entrance into Long Island Sound by way of Narragansett Bay.
Paul Jones went about his arduous duties as first-lieutenant of the
_Alfred_ with his customary energy and determination. But at heart he
cherished a secret dissatisfaction. Coupled with his disappointment at
his own low official station was a growing impression that the senior
officer of the squadron, Commodore Hopkins himself, was incompetent. In
a number of instances during the Providence Island operation, the keen
eyes of the first-lieutenant had caught him in blunders. Although the
commodore might prove brave enough in an encounter, Paul Jones was sure
that he was not above the average in either enterprise or intelligence.
At the outset of the expedition the young officer was wild to meet the
enemy, regardless of numbers. Now, with a grave doubt gripping his
heart, he feared that they might meet Commodore Wallace's British fleet
off Newport.
But the day passed without adventure. Numerous white sails were seen in
the distance, none of which drew any nearer. Commodore Hopkins, being
well weighted down with the cannon and supplies captured at New
Providence, made no effort to investigate these far-off ships. "It is
well to let sleeping dogs lie," he said when Captain Saltonstall
proposed going after them.
Paul Jones's intrepid heart was sickened at such display of
indifference. With his capacity for meeting extraordinary dangers with
extraordinary resources of mind and courage, he could only despise the
risks that other men shunned.