the _Vengeance_, and the _Alliance_. It would have been better, as later
events showed, if the latter ship had decamped with the _Cerf_ and the
privateers; for Captain Landais impudently ignored all of Paul Jones's
signals. He even had the audacity to leave the squadron for several days
at a time, as the cruise continued, returning when the whim seized him.
When other prizes were taken he was bold enough to send two of these
into Bergen, Norway, where they were sold to the English, a procedure
entirely against the wishes of the commodore, and one which was a source
of trouble between Denmark and the United States for many years after
the war.
Paul Jones was also compelled to humor the other French captains.
Several times he changed his course or modified his operations in
compliance with their demands. Had he enjoyed an absolute command he
would have carried out his pet scheme of laying Leith and Edinburgh
under contribution, but he was so afraid that such a venture would
miscarry, owing to the uncertain behavior of his men, that he gave it
up.
With his old flag-ship, his ragged squadron, and his unruly officers,
Paul Jones then cruised along the Yorkshire coast, and succeeded in
capturing a number of vessels. Finally, as he was preparing to end his
disappointing voyage at The Texel, Holland, in accordance with Dr.
Franklin's orders, chance threw in his way the opportunity for making
the cruise a brilliant success.
And, Jones-like, this opportunity he seized eagerly. He saw in a flash
that it was his one moment for restoring his waning power to its former
pinnacle.
XIII
FIGHTING FRIEND AND FOE
It was on the 23d of September, when the squadron was chasing a small
ship off Flamborough Head, that a number of distant sails were seen
rounding the point. A long, steady look through his glass convinced
Commodore Jones that he could not be mistaken: that this was the Baltic
fleet of merchantmen which he had heard were in that vicinity, and which
he had hoped he might meet before he reached The Texel.
Without delay Paul Jones hoisted the signal for a general chase. Captain
Landais, however, ignored the signal, and sailed on by himself. So angry
was Paul Jones at this cool display of indifference--or cowardice, if
that it were,--that he stamped his foot on the deck, and shouted his
feelings through his speaking-trumpet, but it availed nothing; the
insolent Landais kept right on going.
When the merchant ships saw Paul Jones's squadron bearing down upon
them, they ran in under the lee of the shore, and, protected by two
British frigates which immediately got in between them and their foe,
made off down the coast at their best speed. These English frigates were
the _Serapis_, a brand-new ship of forty-four guns, and the _Countess of
Scarborough_, twenty guns.
[Illustration: FIGHT BETWEEN THE SERAPIS AND THE BON HOMME RICHARD]
The afternoon sun was well down in the heavens by this time. In the far
distance, her sails glinting white and rosy in the path of the sun, and
constantly growing smaller, was the fleeing _Alliance_. And not far
behind her, in pursuit, sped the little _Vengeance_, whose captain Paul
Jones had told to try to persuade the half-mad Landais to return to his
duty.
This turn of affairs left two ships facing each other on each side.
Commodore Jones ordered Captain Cottineau, of the _Pallas_, to look
after the _Countess of Scarborough_, while he himself took care of the
_Serapis_. He never lost his head; with that "cool, determined bravery,"
of which Benjamin Franklin spoke, and with "that presence of mind which
never deserted him," recorded by Fanning, he made up his mind to make
the best of a seemingly hopeless situation, and engage an enemy ship
which he knew to be the superior of his own in almost every respect.
He now crowded on all possible sail, until the _Bon Homme Richard_ had
come within pistol shot of the _Serapis_. It was then seven o'clock and
the moon was just rising in a clear blue sky. Off some distance, the
_Countess_ had begun to run away, and the little _Pallas_ was making
after her fiercely. Paul Jones was thus left practically alone to meet
his big antagonist of the bristling guns and well-trained,
perfectly-disciplined crew.
As the _Bon Homme Richard_ approached him, Captain Pearson, of the
_Serapis_, hailed; but there was no reply. "I don't like this fellow's
looks, for all he is apparently less powerful than ourselves," observed
the British commander to his first officer. Uneasily he used his
night-glass again. "I wonder if it can be the blood-thirsty pirate, Paul
Jones," he added a moment later. Then he ordered his sailing-master to
hail again.
"This is His Majesty's ship _Serapis_, forty-four guns. What ship is
that?"
Still no answer.
Once more the hail came over the water, sharper, more peremptorily.
"This is His Maj----"
By this time Paul Jones had the _Bon Homme Richard_ where he wanted her;
he gave a low signal to Richard Dale, who commanded the _Richard's_
gun-deck, and Lieutenant Dale cried, "Blow your matches, boys!" At his
words the gunners touched a tiny flame to the touch-hole of each big gun
on the port side, and a heavy broadside was poured into the enemy ship.
But the British captain was not far behind. Before the echoes had died
out his own guns spat fire with a roar, and great clouds of smoke
drifted up and began to envelope the combatants. Following this the
discharges came fast and furious, both the American and British crews
working their guns with the utmost vigor.
From the beginning the fight seemed to go against the _Bon Homme
Richard_. There was hardly any stage of the three and a half hours'
desperate combat at which Paul Jones would not have been excused in
lowering his flag--had he not been the prodigious fighter he was. Hardly
had the battle well begun when two of the rust-pitted old 18-pounders
exploded, killing the men working them and rendering the whole battery
useless for the rest of the action.
Perceiving this, and anxious to take advantage of the loss of defense on
the lower gun-deck resulting, Captain Pearson attempted again to pass
the bow of the _Richard_ and rake her. On the other hand, Commodore
Jones's whole effort was to close with the enemy and board him, for he
knew now that it was only a question of time, if he did not succeed,
before his old shell of a vessel would be sunk.
After the broadsiding had continued with unremitting fury for almost an
hour, Captain Pearson made another effort to get across the _Richard's_
bow. But he miscalculated, and the two vessels were brought so close
together that the _Richard_ ran into her enemy's weather quarter. Paul
Jones was quick to make his first attempt to board, but the ships swung
apart before the operation could be completed, and those who had reached
the _Serapis's_ rail had to leap back to save themselves from capture.
The _Bon Homme Richard_ was now in a sad condition. Little of her
starboard battery was left, and of the 140 odd officers and men
stationed at the main gun-deck battery at the beginning, over eighty had
been killed or wounded. Numerous holes low in the hull, made by the big
balls of the _Serapis's_ 18-pound guns, were letting in water at an
alarming rate. Time and time again did the ship's carpenter and his mate
stop these up, only to have new holes splinter through with a sickening
sound.
It is no wonder that Captain Pearson, knowing his enemy was in great
distress, thought that, when the crew of the other ship had failed to
board him, Commodore Jones would be ready to surrender.
"Has your ship struck?" he called through his trumpet.
And then Paul Jones made his famous reply:
"I have not yet begun to fight!"
After the ships had swung apart they continued to fire broadsides into
each other. With the starboard battery of the _Richard_ practically out
of commission, however, it is easy to see that she worked at a great
disadvantage in this sort of dueling. Had not a lucky wind favored her
at this stage, it is likely she could not have floated much longer.
This enabled her to blanket her enemy, which compelled the _Serapis_ to
lose all headway. By more adroit handling of his vessel, waterlogged
though she was, Paul Jones once more brought the ships alongside, bow to
bow and stern to stern.
"Now, my fine fellows, lash us together!" cried the commodore; and with
his own hands he helped his men to do the job, while the muskets of the
British sailors rattled a storm of lead among them.
At this critical time, when Paul Jones was bending every nerve to
grapple with the _Serapis_, the renegade _Alliance_ suddenly made her
appearance. The hearts of the gallant commander and his brave lads beat
gladly at this sight. "Now," thought they, "Landais has come back to
help us!"
Judge of their dismay when, as soon as he could get within range, the
mad French captain turned his broadsides not into the British frigate
but into the already sorely-afflicted _Bon Homme Richard_! She staggered
under the fresh onslaught, the vicious bite of him who should have given
aid. The American sailors cursed the treacherous Landais, and shook
their fists at him. If they could have caught him they would have rended
him limb from limb, so violent was their rage. In the midst of the
maledictions, the culprit turned about and made away again, with the
strange fickleness of purpose that had all along characterised his
movements.
As soon as the _Serapis_ and the _Richard_ were well lashed together,
Paul Jones drew practically all his crew from below to the upper deck
and the tops, leaving only a small force to man the three small pieces
on the quarter-deck. From this upper position they now commenced
sweeping the decks of the enemy with their muskets. The crew of the
_Serapis_, on the other hand, were forced to take refuge on their lower
decks, from which point they continued to fire their great guns into the
already riddled hull and lower decks of the _Richard_.
Several times Captain Pearson made desperate attempts to cut the
lashings loose, but at each of these efforts the fire of the American
ship's muskets was so accurate and withering that British seamen fell
one upon another. Not a single British Jack reached the coveted goal,
if we may except one bold fellow who was just opening his heavy
Sheffield knife to sever the key-rope when an unerring bullet from the
watchful Wannashego cut short his life. In another instance, the young
Indian saw a British sailor drawing a bead on Paul Jones, who stood all
unconscious of his peril. There was a report--but it was the report of
Wannashego's reliable gun instead, and the British marine tumbled from
the rigging where he was concealed.
Soon all the officers of the French marines had been killed or wounded,
and Paul Jones was forced to take charge of them. His voice cheered them
on in their own tongue; he exhorted them to take good aim, and when he
saw a fellow firing ineffectively, he would often take his musket from
his hand and show him, by coolly bringing down one of the foe, how he
should manipulate it. In fact, toward the last the commodore stood on
the quarter-deck rail by the main topmast backstay, and as he gave
orders and encouragement, received loaded muskets from his marines, and
fired them with deadly precision. His indomitable spirit penetrated
every quaking soul, infusing it with new hope and new courage. As one
French sailor said afterward: "Everyone who saw his example or heard his
voice became as much a hero as Paul Jones himself."
By this time both vessels were on fire in several places. Half the men
on both ships had been killed or disabled. The leaks in the _Richard's_
hold had multiplied, she was much deeper in the sea; while the mainmast
of the _Serapis_ hung in splinters and threatened to go by the board at
any moment.
Now, to the surprise of everybody, the cowardly Landais, with the
_Alliance_, once more put in an appearance. This time he fired several
broadsides into both combatants, seeming to take as much delight in
hitting one as the other. As before, the man who surely could not have
been sane, put his helm over and sailed away--very luckily for the last
time.
While he was making off, a gunner on the _Richard_, thinking the ship
was sinking, called loudly for quarter. No sooner were the words out of
his mouth than Paul Jones sprang forward and felled him with the butt
end of his pistol.
"Do you want quarter?" called Captain Pearson.
"No," roared Paul Jones; "you are the one to ask that!" And he purposely
sent a pistol shot whistling close to the British captain's ears.
As if to make matters worse at this trying moment, the master-at-arms on
the _Richard_, also thinking the ship sinking, opened the hatches and
released nearly two hundred British prisoners, taken from prizes, who
began to swarm on deck in the greatest confusion!
It was a moment to try the resourcefulness of the quickest intellect.
Paul Jones hesitated just a moment, then he thundered at the prisoners
to man the pumps or he would fill them full of lead. They obeyed like
dumb-driven sheep. As the water in the hold of the sinking ship began to
pour over her bulwarks into the sea again, the men on the _Richard_
resumed the battle with new vigor.
Paul Jones had given orders to drop hand-grenades from the rigging down
into the hold of the _Serapis_, through her main hatchway, which was
open. By this same means the enemy had been set afire at various times
before. Now, at an opportune moment, a hand-grenade fell among a pile
of cartridges strung out on the deck of the _Serapis_. A terrific
explosion occurred, killing many of her men.
It was an opportunity too good to let go. With a shout, the dashing John
Mayrant, cleared the bulwarks of the enemy ship at the head of a yelling
throng of Americans and French, and the next moment a terrific
hand-to-hand struggle with cutlass and pistol was being waged.
[Illustration: BOARDING THE SERAPIS
_From a rare print_]
Seeing his men falling back, Captain Pearson knew that he was a defeated
man, and struck his colors to save those of his crew still alive.
The capture of the British frigate came none too soon, for the old
shot-torn _Bon Homme Richard_ was settling fast. By the combined efforts
of crew and prisoners, the fire in both ships was extinguished. Then all
bent their efforts to removing the wounded and prisoners from the
_Richard_ to the _Serapis_, together with ammunition and other
valuables.
All the rest of that night the heroic old craft kept afloat, with the
Stars-and-Stripes--the same flag the Colonial maids of Portsmouth had
given Paul Jones upon his departure in the _Ranger_--flying proudly at
her peak. Then, as if waiting for daylight to illuminate her last action
before man, she slowly sank just as the sun came up across the waters in
the east. The very last vestige anybody saw of her was her flag, still
flying--unstruck!
* * * * *
When, two years later, Paul Jones returned to America, he met Miss Mary
Langdon, who had been one of the girls to make this ensign. "I wished
above all things to bring this flag to America," said he; "but, Miss
Mary, I could not bear to strip the old ship in her last agony, nor
could I deny to my dead on her decks, who had given their lives to keep
it flying, the glory of taking it with them."
"You have done exactly right, commodore," exclaimed she. "That flag is
just where we all wish it to be--flying at the bottom of the sea over
the only ship that ever went down in victory!"
XIV
DIPLOMACY AND SOCIETY
The desperate battle fought in the bright moonlight was witnessed by
many persons in Scarborough and on the Flamborough Head. These English
people immediately spread the alarming tidings throughout the enemy
country by lighting immense signal fires on the cliffs. Although it was
not definitely known what ship had taken the formidable _Serapis_,
nearly everybody rightly guessed that it had been captained by the
"terrible Paul Jones." The British along the sea coast all the way from
Cape Clear to Hull were in a great fright, and for days to come looked
for the appearance of the "blood-thirsty buccaneer" in their particular
locality.
With his two new prizes--for the _Pallas_ had succeeded in capturing the
_Countess of Scarborough_ after a short engagement--the commodore now
set off for The Texel, where he arrived October 3. He was none too soon
in getting into port, either. Very shortly after his arrival an English
squadron, consisting of sixty-four ships-of-the-line and three heavy
frigates, which had been looking for him, hove into view.
The scape-goat Landais, with the _Alliance_, was already in The Texel
when the American-French squadron arrived. Paul Jones at once took steps
for the care of the wounded and prisoners, and then sent special
messengers to Dr. Franklin with news of the great victory and a report
of Landais's scandalous behavior, demanding that he be court-martialed.
An important problem now to be solved was how to induce the Dutch
authorities to allow Paul Jones and his battered ships to remain long
enough in a neutral port to make necessary repairs to carry them to
France. Indeed, Sir Joseph Yorke, British minister in Holland, lost no
time in demanding that the Dutch government turn over to England "the
pirate and criminal, Paul Jones, and every ship under his command." An
enormous amount of correspondence then passed between the diplomats of
the three countries concerned; conferences were held; even Paul Jones
himself took a most active hand in presenting his arguments in favor of
the step he had taken. The people of Holland were secretly in sympathy
with the revolting colonies; but the wealthy Dutch ship-owners were
gaining a rich harvest from the commerce with England at this time, and
they made their weighty power felt in settling the question. These men
thought the ships should be held by Holland until after the war.
However, the other contingent argued them down, and the States-General
at last sent England the verdict of his country, which was to the effect
that Holland would _not_ deliver over the vessels to England, but would
insist that they depart from Holland waters at the first favorable
weather.
In the meantime, kind-hearted Dutch maids thronged the decks of the
_Serapis_, _Alliance_, _Pallas_ and _Scarborough_. They brought with
them gifts of food and clothing for the strong and healthy, as well as
an abundance of delicacies for the sick and wounded. More than one
rosy-cheeked, fair-haired girl acted as nurse, and it is no wonder that
under such jolly, tender care the ailing ones made rapid improvement.
As he watched his ships nearing the finish of their repairs, Paul
Jones's heart became more anxious, and often he looked seaward where the
British ships were grimly patrolling to prevent his escape when the
Dutch authorities should order him out at the first favorable wind. He
hoped intensely that this sort of wind would not come before he had
everything aboard in readiness and his plans for evading the enemy well
formed.
On the 13th of December the French minister of marine, De Sartine,
demanded that he should fly the French flag, which naturally commanded
greater respect from Holland than the American ensign. In vain he
expostulated to this gentleman and to Dr. Franklin, his friend in Paris;
the latter stated he thought it the best thing to do. Therefore, Paul
Jones made the change, but with great reluctance. It grieved him deeply
to see the flag of another country, other than that under which the
_Serapis_ had had to bow down to, fluttering at her masthead.
Close upon the heels of this disappointment came another to tear the
heartstrings of the irritated Scotchman. This was an order for him to
relinquish supervision of all his ships except the _Alliance_, which he
was to command as an ordinary captain. The _Serapis_ he must turn over
to Captain Cottineau, who, it was said, would look after the fortunes of
this vessel, as well as the _Pallas_ and the _Vengeance_ and the
_Scarborough_, in the future. Commodore Jones sent vehement
protestations at this humiliating change to the French government and
the American commissioners, but in vain; no other arrangement could well
be made, wrote Dr. Franklin. So our hero bowed in submission, although
when he went aboard the _Alliance_ as her captain he defiantly pulled
down the French flag at her peak and ran up the Stars-and-Stripes.
The incessant jangling and wrangling with the diplomats of three
countries in addition to his own, had made Paul Jones very sore at
heart. Therefore, he was very glad when, on Christmas Day, 1779, the
weather underwent a change which promised him a chance to get away from
The Texel. That morning he awoke to find such a gale blowing that most
of the patrolling English frigates were driven off the coast. All that
day and the next it howled so furiously that he dared not venture to
steal out himself; but early on the morning of the 27th he made a dash
in the _Alliance_, boldly shaping his course for the Straits of Dover.
As daring as ever, he sailed down the English Channel, passing close to
the Channel Fleet of the enemy. They gave chase, but he outmaneuvred
them, and finally put in at Corunna, Spain, for repairs. On February 10,
1780, he sailed into L'Orient.
The following year was passed mainly in France, where Paul Jones applied
himself energetically to trying to collect prize money for his men and
himself, and trying to secure an important command. He wrote rather more
than his usual large number of letters,--to Franklin, the Duchesse De
Chartres, Robert Morris, Arthur Lee, Dr. Bancroft, and many others,--in
an endeavor to carry out some of his pet plans for the betterment of war
operations. In spite of his hard efforts to collect this prize money,
there were many annoying delays caused by technicalities, and his crew
as a whole grew impatient and rebellious. This feeling was increased
when the traitor, Landais, suddenly appeared among them, and abetted by
Arthur Lee, stirred up the men with many lies.
Wannashego carried this state of affairs to Paul Jones as soon as he
became convinced of the peril of the situation, but even while he was in
quest of his friend, Landais and Lee went aboard and took possession of
the ship. When, on his arrival, Paul Jones found what had transpired he
was so angry that he could hardly contain himself. He came very near to
shooting both the conspirators; but as usual when in a temper he calmed
down with surprising quickness, and departed. The next day the
_Alliance_, under the command of Landais, sailed for America, with Lee
aboard. Paul Jones made no effort to prevent it. "Let them go," he said
to Wannashego; "I am well rid of such a pair of precious scoundrels. As
for the ship, she is not worth fighting over."
So Landais sailed away with the _Alliance_, but to his own
ruin--something the astute Scotchman had foreseen. On the voyage
Landais's eccentricity caused his friend Lee to put him under arrest,
and on arrival in America a court of inquiry found him unfit for
command, and he never burdened the service again.
Paul Jones had arrived in Paris this time in a blaze of fame. He was
lionized by society, congratulated by royalty, was the idol of women
high and low. He was bidden by the Duc and Duchesse De Chartres to be
their guest at the Palais Royal, and occupied one of the splendid
apartments of that historic dwelling during his stay in Paris. As soon
as the Duchesse had received the commodore's letter acquainting her with
his victory over the _Serapis_--in these words: "The enemy surrendered
at thirty-five minutes past 10:00 p. m. by your watch, which I consult
only to fix the moment of victory"--she prepared to give a great ball in
his honor.