old home-town of Arbigland which I have seen but once since I was twelve
years old----"
"Pardon me, sir," interrupted the first officer; "surely you do not
think of attacking your own birthplace?"
"Indeed not," was the sharp and somewhat impatient rejoinder. "Though it
belongs to the enemy, that would be the act of a man without heart and
conscience. Please hear me out. Not far from my home there lives in the
same county of Kirkcudbright a most important personage to British
interests. This is the Earl of Selkirk. In lieu of the only partial
success of our descent upon Whitehaven I propose to even up matters
this very day by calling upon the good earl and taking him hostage."
This was a daring conception, and Lieutenant Wallingford gasped. The
_Ranger_ was held to her new course, straight north across the Firth of
Solway. When the ship came in view of the northern coast, her commander
stood watching the high cliffs about Arbigland with a strange mixture of
feelings. We shall never know exactly what thoughts stirred him, as he
was a man not given to referring to his deeper sensations, but we may
well infer that, in the short space of time he stood there studying the
familiar landmarks of his care-free and happy boyhood, he lived over
again the days of that period, climbed again the crags after sea-birds'
eggs, sailed again his toy boats in the quiet coves.
St. Mary's Isle, a beautifully wooded promontory in the river Dee, was
where the Earl of Selkirk lived in luxurious but quiet style. This was
about a mile up the coast from Arbigland, and although Paul Jones had
never met the Scotch nobleman or any of his family, he knew the location
of the Selkirk broad acres as well as he knew the best fishing grounds
in the Firth.
He landed on St. Mary's Isle with one boat and twelve men. Pointing out
the path to take, and warning his men to commit no violence other than
that which might be required in securing the earl himself, the captain
awaited their return. In a short time they were back again, bringing a
considerable quantity of silver plate, but without the earl, who they
declared was not at home.
Paul Jones was very angry because his sailors had taken the silver
plate. He used every argument except force in trying to get them to
return it at once. When he saw that they were bent upon keeping the
spoil, he said no more, but departed with them, for he knew well that
the rules of war made confiscation perfectly legal.
Later on he wrote the Countess of Selkirk a long letter of apology and
explanation, stating that he would exert every endeavor to return the
plate to her. This he did, and succeeded, although in so doing it was
necessary for him to go down into his own pocket for £150 in order to
buy it back.
Paul Jones next turned his attention to an effort to capture the British
man-of-war _Drake_, a vessel of twenty guns--two guns stronger than his
own ship. This, too, was a bold undertaking, particularly in view of the
fact that the _Drake_ was known to carry a larger crew and was in her
own waters. But the intrepid sea-king was not to be deterred. He had
encountered this same vessel once before, several days before the attack
on Whitehaven, when he was standing off Carrickfergus, and when she was
anchored in the bay. During the night he had run in and tried to work
into a position where he could board her quickly, surprise her crew, and
overwhelm them before they could offer serious enough resistance to get
aid from the big gray fortification which frowned down over the harbor
from the massive heights above. But, owing to the strong wind which had
prevailed at the time, the plan was frustrated; and the _Ranger_ had
quietly withdrawn to sea again without her foe knowing what a narrow
escape she had met with.
Then Paul Jones had assuaged the disappointment of himself and his men
with the remark: "Never mind, my brave fellows; that British sloop
shall be ours yet, mark my words. When we are through with Whitehaven we
shall look her up again."
And now the doughty captain meant to fulfil his promise!
On the morning of the 24th of April the _Ranger_ was once more off
Carrickfergus. The bay, the castled crag, the picturesque town, and the
handsome British sloop-of-war, all stood out brilliantly in the clear
sunlight.
But this time the American vessel was not destined to get in close to
her enemy without suspicion. The very night before, word had been
brought of the attack on Whitehaven, and as a consequence the entire
populace of Carrickfergus was ready to look askance at the coming of
every strange ship. As the _Ranger_ appeared in the offing, therefore,
she was immediately observed by the British aboard the _Drake_, and the
American sailors could hear the creaking of the foe-ship's capstan and
the hoarse rattle of the chains as her anchor was tripped in readiness
for an emergency.
The _Ranger_ now went completely about, her stern toward the shore. This
was the best way possible to hide her identity, for it was seen that a
boat was putting off from the English sloop and pulling toward them,
apparently bent upon investigation. When the boat had approached within
hailing distance of the American, one of its inmates--a British
officer--stood up and cried: "What ship is that?"
Paul Jones, standing at his sailing-master's elbow, quietly prompted him
in his answers.
"The _Saltandpepperforbritish_" replied Mr. Stacy so rapidly that all
the words were a meaningless jumble to the Englishmen, who, however,
caught the word "British" with some feeling of ease. Drawing a little
closer, the officer repeated his question: "What ship is that? We cannot
make out your answer."
"We've had fair winds, but glad to get in here," answered Mr. Stacy,
pretending to have misunderstood the question.
There was an impatient remark from the British officer at this. He said
something to his men. The boat of the enemy then drew up considerably
nearer. By this time the craft was directly under the _Ranger's_
quarter.
"I ask you for the third and last time, what ship is that?" hailed the
British officer.
"And I answer again and for the last time, she is the _Lord Dunmore_,
bound from Plymouth to London," called Mr. Stacy in an apparently
exasperated voice. Then, again prompted by his captain, he went on:
"Have you heard anything of that American cruiser which has been
prowling about capturing merchant ships and frightening our coast people
half out of their wits?"
"Yes," was the reply of the officer, now completely off his guard. "We
would give a thousand pounds to meet her."
"If you will come aboard, our captain says he will give you further
particulars about this impudent American," continued Mr. Stacy. "We
think this news will aid you in finding him."
Unsuspiciously the British boat now came up, and a ladder was lowered
over the port side. Just then one of the _Ranger's_ own boats was
dropped from the davits; it was quickly filled with men, and as the
British officer clambered on deck and faced Paul Jones the American
sailors made prisoners of his crew.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried the British officer. "Who are you,
sir?"
"Captain Paul Jones," came the quick answer. "This is the American
sloop-of-war _Ranger_, about which we promised you information. If you
require further details, it is only proper for me to state that you are
a prisoner of war on that ship at this moment!"
The officer uttered an exclamation of anger. But his chagrin was not
greater than that of the other men aboard the boat when they were
brought aboard and all sent below.
This whole proceeding had been witnessed from the _Drake_ in a more or
less hazy manner, but yet in a way to give the British aboard that
vessel a fair idea of the catastrophe which had attended the efforts of
their compatriots to learn the identity of the stranger. She immediately
sent out alarm signals, and in a few minutes smoking bonfires along the
entire headlands were relaying the startling intelligence to inland
points.
In a little while the _Drake_, accompanied by five small vessels filled
with townspeople curious to witness what they thought would be a battle,
began to work out. She came very slowly, owing to an unfavorable tide.
It was plain to be seen that her "dander was up;" that she meant to
look into the plight of her boat's crew without further delay.
The _Ranger_ now threw off every effort at disguise. Her portlids were
run up, her guns run out, and everything put in trim for a hard fight.
As the enemy came nearer and weathered the point, the _Ranger_ cunningly
and almost imperceptibly worked herself farther out into the channel
where she would have more sea room for the engagement and be farther
away from the guns of the fort. Thus led on, the _Drake_ followed,
slowly narrowing up the space between.
Now the British ship ran up her colors. At the same instant up went the
Stars-and-Stripes aboard the American. Having come within hailing
distance, the British commander, Captain Burden, called out: "Who are
you?"
"The Continental ship _Ranger_," cried back Mr. Stacy, at word from Paul
Jones. "Come on, we are waiting for you!"
Scarcely were the words spoken when the _Ranger's_ helm was ported, and
bringing her broadside to bear on the advancing ship, she roared out the
first volley. The enemy at once returned the compliment. While her fire
was spirited, somehow it lacked effectiveness, which is probably
attributable to the distress and confusion caused on board of her by the
stunning effect of the American's shooting. In a letter to Joseph Hewes,
Paul Jones thus refers to the manner in which his men handled
themselves: "We have seen that our men fight with courage on our own
coasts. But no one has ever seen them fight on our coast as they fought
here, almost in hail of the enemy's shore. Every shot told, and they
gave the _Drake_ three broadsides for two right along...."
On board the _Ranger_, Paul Jones walked the quarter-deck unharmed, amid
a constant shower of musketry and the shriek of cannon-ball. Captain
Burden, of the _Drake_, showed an equal disregard for danger, but within
thirty minutes after the beginning of the fight he was mortally wounded
by a musket shot in the head. Paul Jones was unaware of this fact until,
during the hottest of the firing, his friend Wannashego glided quickly
up to where he stood and announced the news.
"I am sorry for him, for he has shown himself to be a brave man; but it
is the way of war," said the commander. "Did you see him shot,
Wannashego?"
In his dusky hands the Indian youth held a musket whose barrel was hot
to the touch and from which a tiny thread of smoke still curled. "I sure
see British captain fall," he said with flashing eyes, as he patted his
gun. "I take good aim at him. It is the first chance for me. Bang! They
pick him up and carry him away."
With the words Wannashego hurried off, reloading his weapon as he ran.
Paul Jones was thunderstruck. After a moment he muttered, "Poor Burden,
your very importance in this conflict has caught the eagle eye of that
young redskin and spelled your doom!"
The fighting continued fiercely. Twice was the ensign of the _Drake_
shot away, and twice the gallant British tars rehoisted it. The enemy's
fore and main topsail yards were completely riddled, the main topgallant
mast and mizzen gaff hung up and down the spar, her jib dragged over her
lee into the water, and her mainsails were a sieve of holes.
Never had Paul Jones seen men fight more tigerishly or with better aim
than his were now doing. As the two ships were going off the wind, which
was light, they both rolled considerably and together; in other words,
when the _Ranger_ went down to port the _Drake_ came up to starboard.
Quite early in the action, the Scotch captain had noticed that his
quarter-gunners had caught the _Drake's_ period of roll and were timing
to fire as their muzzles went down and the enemy's came up. By this
practice they were hulling the British ship prodigiously below her
water-line and everywhere below her rail.
"What are you firing in that fashion for?" demanded Paul Jones of
Midshipman Starbuck.
"To sink the British galoots, sir!"
"That is not my object," said the captain sharply. "Cease this
destruction of the ship, and conduct yourselves so as to capture her
instead."
The alert fellows instantly changed their tactics, and soon had the
_Drake_ an unmanageable log on the water, with her crew crying for
quarter. When, after the desperate fighting of a little more than an
hour, an accounting was taken it was found that the _Ranger_ had
suffered very little from the inaccurate fire of the British. True, she
had lost two lives, among these Lieutenant Wallingford, and had six
wounded; but her opponent had lost her commander and nineteen others
killed, with twenty-eight officers and men wounded. The only officer
remaining to strike her flag had been her second-lieutenant.
With a towline fastened to her prize, the _Ranger_ now passed out of the
lough and up St. George's Channel. About midnight she hove to, and there
under the starlight the dead heroes of the conflict were sewn up in
canvas and consigned to the deep with a fitting burial service.
With a valuable prize and more than one hundred and forty prisoners of
war to look after, Paul Jones was now forced to give up his intention of
cruising around Scotland. After taking a vessel off Malin Head he became
further handicapped, and determined to make for Brest without additional
delay.
And now came that long-dreamed-of and hoped-for hour when he was to
enter a French port bringing a ship superior to his own--one belonging
to the finest navy afloat, a feat which had never before happened in the
history of naval warfare. As he sailed through the outer roads of Brest
he was met by an escort of French warships, whose crews cheered lustily
when they learned the identity of his prize.
It was past midnight when the _Ranger_ let go anchor. Everything then
seemed quiet, but like wildfire the news of the daring captain's return
spread over the town. When daylight broke the quays were swarming with
people, and the harbor was dotted with boats bearing passengers, all of
whom were eager to catch a glimpse of the vanquished _Drake_ and her
conqueror.
XII
THE QUEER CONDUCT OF CAPTAIN LANDAIS
The next morning Captain Paul Jones woke up to find himself
famous--almost overwhelmed with the praise and attentions of the naval
officers of Brest as well as of all France. The Duc De Chartres was the
first to come aboard, brimming with congratulations, and for the two
days the _Ranger_ lay in the harbor her decks thronged with officers of
the French fleet and citizens who were eager to rejoice with the
conqueror.
Then the other side of the picture began to show; the stern realities of
France's disturbed political condition had to be faced. The _Ranger_,
with her splendid prize, had gone to the deckyard for repairs, and the
problem of feeding and clothing the three hundred men constituting his
own crew and that of the _Drake_ had to be met by Paul Jones. The
Congress still owed him £1500 which he had advanced out of his own
pocket for paying the crews of his former ships, the _Providence_ and
the _Alfred_, and this outlay had depleted his funds to such an extent
that he had very little money left, so little that he now saw he would
have to draw upon the commissioners a draft for 24,000 livres, which
Congress had given him. To his annoyance the three commissioners
promptly dishonored his draft. As a result, the merchant with whom he
had contracted to refit the _Ranger_ and the _Drake_, as well as to
supply his crew and prisoners with provisions, declined to extend
further credit.
This state of affairs put our hero in a very embarrassing position, and
nettled him intensely. Had it not been for the fine friendship of such
Frenchmen as the Duc De Chartres, Comte D'Orvillers, and M. Chaumont,
through whose benevolence he was for a time able to feed and clothe his
people, heal his wounded, and continue the refitting of his vessels, it
is hard to tell what he would have done.
In the crude, undisciplined condition of the United States Navy in that
day the crews could not seem to comprehend the idea that it was
necessary to obey every order of the commander of a ship without raising
a question. Almost at the instant of the engagement between the
_Ranger_ and the _Drake_, Lieutenant Simpson, the trouble-maker of the
past, had used his influence in stirring up some of the crew to a state
bordering on insubordination, telling them that being Americans fighting
for liberty they had a right to fight the enemy in any way they chose,
regardless of a commander's program. Paul Jones had stopped this
threatened uprising by confining Simpson below. On reaching port he had
transferred him to the _Admiral_, a ship where the French put men of his
type.
After Simpson had been imprisoned, an American agent named Hezekiah
Ford, who disliked the Scotch captain, got up a petition condemning Paul
Jones and praising the conduct of Simpson in the sea fight. By smooth
arguments to the effect that they would never get their prize money
unless Lieutenant Simpson were made captain in place of Paul Jones, Ford
induced seventy-eight of the _Ranger's_ crew to sign this petition. The
result was, that the rascally lieutenant was freed at his court-martial,
and sailed away a little later for America, as master of the refitted
_Ranger_.
When Paul Jones heard of the doings of Hezekiah Ford, he was terribly
incensed. Tucking three pistols in his belt, he betook himself to the
inn where Ford stopped. Without pausing long enough to draw even one of
his pistols, he knocked Ford down with a lightning-like blow of his
fist, seized the coachman's whip and thrashed the scoundrel until he
cried for mercy. Big, long-limbed, weighing half as much again as Paul
Jones, he offered no resistance--just curled up and blubbered like the
coward he was, while the onlookers cheered the Scotchman with keen
delight. Six months later, following other discoveries of his duplicity,
Ford was denounced as a spy and traitor by the governor of Virginia, and
Congress dishonorably dismissed him from the service after he had fled
to London with valuable papers.
Before the _Ranger_ sailed under the captaincy of Mr. Simpson, Paul
Jones had met the expenses of her crew with the utmost difficulty. The
credit obtained from his French friends did not meet all the heavy
obligations, and after a while, in order to keep his men from starving,
he was forced to sell the _Drake_ at auction to a French ship-broker.
This act was strictly against the rules and regulations of his country,
but in the dire need of his crew and prisoners he felt that extreme
measures must be adopted to raise the funds which he could get in no
other manner. With this money he managed to pay off all indebtedness,
and so it was with a clear conscience, if a bitter heart, that he saw
the sly Simpson finally make off with his own ship, and many of his
crew, leaving him alone in a foreign land.
War had now broken out between England and France, and Paul Jones was
detained in Europe at the request of the French Minister of Marine. This
official, De Sartine, wished an important command to be assigned to the
famous conqueror of the _Drake_. The difficulties in the way, however,
were great. The American commissioners had few resources, in addition to
which one of them--Lee--was hostile to the Scotchman; and the French had
more native officers clamoring for the better ships than they had such
vessels.
Thus, about all that could be offered was the command of small warships
or privateers, offers which the proud Jones promptly rejected. To M.
Chaumont he wrote, in this connection, a letter containing the
following extracts: "I wish to have no connection with any ship that
does not sail fast, for I intend to go _in harm's way_. Therefore buy a
frigate with sails fast, and that is sufficiently large to carry
twenty-six or twenty-eight guns on her deck. I would rather be shot
ashore than go to sea in the armed prizes I have described."
He continued his heckling correspondence with the greatest energy,
alternately cajoling, proposing, complaining, begging to be sent on some
important enterprise. He wrote innumerable letters to De Sartine,
Franklin, De Chartres, De Chaumont, and many others, and finally to the
king himself, who granted him an interview. More as a result of this
conference with Louis XV than from other sources, he was finally
rewarded by being put in command of a small squadron.
At first he was highly delighted with the appointment, but as time wore
on and he saw what a poor assortment of ships and crews he had, he was
vastly disappointed. But having accepted the command, with true heroic
purpose he made up his mind to carry it through to the best of his
ability.
The expense of fitting out the expedition was the king's, while the flag
and the commissions of the officers were American. The object of the
French government was to get Paul Jones to operate against the coasts
and shipping of England under the American flag, as the courtesy of
warfare forbade France, as an ally, to ravage the coasts of Great
Britain before the enemy herself had struck a blow at French interests.
As stated, Paul Jones had a motley array of ships--those which were left
over after the French officers had had their pick. The flag-ship, the
_Bon Homme Richard_, was a worn-out old East Indiaman, which he refitted
and armed with six 18-pounders, twenty-eight 12-pounders, and eight
9-pounders--a battery of forty-two guns. The crew consisted of 375 men
of many nationalities, among which were not more than one hundred and
fifty Americans, including Wannashego, who had faithfully stuck to his
leader during all his trials in Brest. The _Alliance_, the only American
ship, was a good frigate rating as a large thirty-two or medium
thirty-six. She was commanded by a jealous-minded, half-mad Frenchman
named Landais, who was in the American service. The _Pallas_, thirty-two
guns; the _Vengeance_, twelve guns; and the little _Cerf_, of eight
guns, were all officered and manned by Frenchmen.
Bad as were conditions of ship and crew, however, there was one other
feature of the organization which proved a greater handicap to the
Scotch commodore. This was the famous _concordat_, an agreement between
the various commanders of the ships which Paul Jones was compelled to
sign before his commission would be approved by the French minister of
the navy. While its terms related largely to the distribution of prize
money, it also contained clauses which weakened his authority, and gave
his captains a chance to wink at it if they chose.
The little squadron, accompanied by two French privateers, sailed
finally from L'Orient on August 14, 1779, on what was planned to be a
fifty-days' cruise. Thanks to the Duchesse De Chartres's gift of ten
thousand louis d'or, Paul Jones had been able to fit out his flag-ship
in a much better condition than the king's fund would have permitted.
On the 18th the privateer _Monsieur_, which was not bound by the
_concordat_, took a prize which the captain of that vessel proceeded to
relieve of all valuables and then ordered into port. The commodore
opposed this, and sent the prize to L'Orient. This so angered the
_Monsieur's_ captain that he parted company with the squadron.
But the episode was only the beginning of Paul Jones's troubles with
insubordination of officers. While attempting to capture a brigantine,
some of his English sailors deserted in two of his small boats. These
could not be overhauled, and Landais insolently upbraided the commodore
for their loss, declaring that thereafter he would act entirely upon his
own responsibility (which indeed he had been doing right along!). The
_Cerf_ and the other privateer then pretended to go off to look for the
escaped former English prisoners, and they too failed to appear again.