sailors could not be stopped, and they neared the vessel under
vigorous sweeps of the oars. The lieutenant in command was badly
wounded, and was forced to lie in the bottom of his boat, but--in a
few moments--the tenders were alongside the merchantman, and the
sailors, with a wild yell, were clambering to her deck. There was a
fierce hand-to-hand struggle, but nothing would gainsay the rush of
the British tars. In twenty minutes the fight was all over and the
vessel was towed out of the bay, in triumph, next morning. As she was
a smart, little craft she was turned into a privateer in place of the
_Prince Frederick_ (which had run aground) and was christened the
_Prince George_.
The "Royal Family" continued upon its way, made many captures,
and--after eight months--put into the harbor of Lisbon with prizes and
prize-money amounting to L220,000 (about $1,100,000). So you can see
that privateering was a very lucrative trade in those days, when
successfully pursued. Not a single man had been killed aboard the
little fleet, but many had been severely wounded. The ships were
overhauled, refitted, and, being joined by the _Prince Frederick_,
amounted to six in number, for the vessel captured in the harbor of
Safia had been converted into a full-fledged privateer. Now was to be
one of the most gruelling sea-fights in which George Walker ever
engaged.
In the month of October the squadron was cruising off of Lagos Bay, on
the coast of Portugal, when a large sail was sighted at about five in
the morning. The _Princess Amelia_ was at anchor in the harbor of
Lagos, so Captain Walker sent a small sloop (a recent capture) after
her to tell her to "Hurry up and get under way," while he gave signal
to the other vessels to chase the stranger at once. All started after
the foreigner, who stood to the northward and could be seen to be
crowding on all possible canvas. There were four ships in this merry
little chase, but two of them--the _Duke_ and the _Prince
George_--dropped out, after about an hour's run. They either could
not get up, or else their captains grew tired of the affair.
On, on, went the other privateers, and--at about noon--Walker drew
near the fugitive, in the _King George_. The _Prince Frederick_, with
her twenty-six guns, was still some distance away, but Walker kept
after the stranger, although he now saw that she was a large
vessel,--much more powerful than the _King George_, with her
thirty-two guns and three hundred men. He was rapidly nearing the big
fellow, when it grew suddenly calm, so that neither could move.
At this moment an ejaculation of astonishment burst from the lips of
some of the officers aboard the saucy _King George_.
"She's a seventy-four!" cried several. "We're in a tight hole!"
Sure enough, the pursued hoisted her colors, ran out her guns, and
showed herself to be a man-of-warsman carrying seventy-four cannon:
over double the amount of armament aboard the plucky _King George_.
"I can't make out whether she's Spanish or Portuguese," said Captain
Walker, gazing carefully at her drooping flag.
The colors hung down in the dead calm, and it was impossible to tell
whether they were Spanish or Portuguese; for the two ensigns--at that
period--were very similar.
The sea-warriors drifted along, eyeing each other, for about an hour,
when the stranger ran in her lower deck-guns and closed her
port-holes.
"She's a treasure ship," cried a sailor. "And she won't fight if she
can avoid it!"
Walker turned to his officers and asked,
"Gentlemen, shall we fight her?"
"Aye! Aye!" came from all. "She's afraid of us!"
The vessel, in fact, was a treasure ship which had been recently
chased by some English men-of-war and had already landed her treasure,
to the value of about one million sterling (about $5,000,000). A
slight breeze sprang up, at about five in the afternoon, and the big
ship kept on her course; the gamey _King George_ following, while the
white sails of the _Prince Frederick_ were far astern, as the breeze
had not yet struck her. So they swashed along, the Englishmen anxious
for a fight, and a chance to overhaul the supposed treasure which the
stranger was carrying. At eight o'clock the _King George_ was struck
by a favorable puff of wind, and came quite close to the seventy-four.
It was time for battle.
"What ship is that?" hailed Captain Walker, in the Portuguese tongue.
He was cleared for action and his men were all lying down at their
quarters. There was no answer to his challenge.
"What ship is that?" he asked again; this time in English.
A voice came back,--also in English,
"And what ship may you be?"
"The _King George_."
_Crash! B-oo-m!_
A thundering broadside belched from the side of the seventy-four,
dismounting two guns on the port side of the _King George_, and
bringing the main topsail yard crashing to the deck. It was now bright
moonlight, and in its radiance the flag of the stranger was seen to
blow straight out, disclosing her nationality to be Spanish. She was
the _Glorioso_: a strong and powerful vessel, ably officered and ably
manned. She towered above the little _King George_ like a
church-spire, and her broadsides now sputtered with great regularity.
_Crash! Crash! Crash!_
The sprightly little _King George_ kept after the big warship like a
sword-fish chasing a whale. She drew so close that some burning wads
from the Spanish guns set fire to her mainsail. Continually hoping
that the _Prince Frederick_ would come up, the gallant Walker hammered
away at the _Glorioso_ with furious precision, and drove her so near
the rocks off Cape Vincent that the castle guns began to play upon the
two grappling warriors of the sea. The British sea-captain fought and
commanded with "a calmness peculiar to himself" and his example
secured order and discipline even in the thickest of the fight, when
the mainsail was set on fire. He was magnificent in action.
So the unequal struggle kept on. By half-past ten the _King George_
had been so severely damaged aloft that she could not have escaped if
she had tried. All the braces were shot away; the foremast was quite
disabled; and the mainmast was badly splintered. Battered, torn, and
distressed she kept banging away at the great, towering Spaniard;
while the big fellow ceased her fire somewhat, and ever now and again
let go a broadside, like the blow from the mouth of a huge whale. It
sounded like, _Chu-spow!_
[Illustration: ACTION BETWEEN THE "GLORIOSO" AND THE "KING GEORGE" AND
"PRINCE FREDERICK" UNDER GEORGE WALKER.]
But hurrah! hurrah! The _Prince Frederick_ had at last caught the
breeze, and came bouncing by, her little pennons fluttering like so
many silk stockings on a clothes-line.
"Are you all well?" shouted her commander, as he neared the splintered
_King George_. "You look as if you're sinking."
Captain Walker came to the rail with the speaking-trumpet in his hand.
"One killed and fifteen wounded," he answered. "Now sail after that
Spanish villain and take her, in revenge for all the damage that she
has done me. She's a treasure ship."
"All right," Captain Dottin called back, and he kept on after the
_Glorioso_, which was now rapidly drawing away.
By the bright moonlight it could be seen that the _Duke_ and the
_Prince George_ were also approaching. And, when they came close
enough to the maimed and battered _King George_, her captain called to
them, "to keep on after the Spaniard, and catch the rascal." They
continued on their way, and, at daybreak the three vessels could be
seen, through the glass, as they closed in upon the Spanish game-cock
from three sides. "She'll be ours before nightfall," said Captain
Walker, chuckling.
The headmost ship, apparently the _Duke_ under Captain Dottin, could
now be seen to hotly engage the _Glorioso_, which greatly displeased
the captain of the dismantled _King George_.
"Dottin will fire away all of his cartridges," said he, turning to a
few of his officers, who clustered around him. "He will shoot them all
off at too great a distance, and will afterwards be obliged to load
with loose powder, by which some fatal accident is sure to occur. He's
a brave fellow, but a rash one!"
He had scarcely spoken, when a broadside rang out. Simultaneously,
with the discharge of the guns, a pillar of smoke and flame shot high
into the air.
"Good Heavens, the _Duke_ has blown up!" cried Captain Walker. "Dottin
and his brave followers have found a watery grave!"
"It is merely the smoke of a broadside," one of the officers
interrupted.
"No! No!" answered Walker, dejectedly. "It's the last that will ever
be seen of noble Dottin and his men!"
The smoke now cleared away and no ship was to be seen upon the surface
of the water. The _Glorioso_ was still-belching both smoke and flame,
and near her were three sails, indistinctly seen through a haze of
smoke and fog. Could it not have been the _Duke_, after all? "Vain
thought," cried bold Walker, aloud. "Our bravest and best ship has
gone to the bottom."
This terrible incident had such an effect upon the seamen of the _King
George_ that Captain Walker called the officers aside into the
companionway, and there made them a speech.
"My brave men," said he, "you must keep up an air of cheerfulness
before these fellows of ours, for, otherwise they will be backward in
fighting, and will not have the courage which we desire. Go among them
and show no sign that you are lacking in pleasantry."
As he ceased speaking there was a series of sudden explosions, mingled
with cries of alarm.
"Gad zooks! What's happened!" cried all, rushing to the deck.
They found matters in a sorry state, for the crew was in a panic; some
clinging outside the ship; some climbing out upon the bowsprit, all
ready to jump overboard should the vessel blow up.
Captain Walker was astonished. "Why, men!" said he. "What means this
confusion?"
It was easily explained, for the alarm had been caused by a seaman who
stepped upon a number of loaded muskets, which had been covered by a
sail. One was fired off accidentally, and this exploded some spare
ammunition, set the sail on fire, and completely demoralized the crew;
who still were thinking of the sad tragedy which they had just
witnessed. Order was quickly restored, the blazing sail was torn down
and bucketed, and the terrified sailors came back to their posts. When
men have their nerves shattered, it is easy to startle them.
But how about the _Glorioso_?
The fair-fighting Spaniard was far out of sight, by now, still
whanging away at her many enemies, and still proudly flaunting the
flag of Arragon in the faces of the British war-dogs, who were
snapping and snarling at her like a wolf pack. What became of her was
not known for several days, when the poor, battered _King George_
staggered into a sheltering harbor, there to meet with the _Duke_
herself, which was Dottin's good ship,--the one which all had thought
to have exploded and sunk.
"Hurray!" shouted many. "She's afloat after all!"
Eager questioning brought out the fact that it had been the frigate
_Dartmouth_ which had exploded; a vessel which had run near the fight
in order to see the fun. Some loose powder had set fire to her
magazine, and thus she had suffered the same fate as the _Fleuron_,
which, as you remember, had blown up, when at anchor in the harbor of
Brest. _It's a wise ship that keeps away from a sea battle._
Only seventeen of the crew of this unfortunate craft had been picked
up by the boats of the _Prince Frederick_; one of whom was an Irish
lieutenant named O'Brien, who was hauled aboard Dottin's vessel, clad
only in a night shirt.
"Sirrah!" said he, bowing politely. "You must excuse the unfitness of
my dress to come aboard a strange ship, but really I left my own in
such a hurry that I had no time to stay for a change." He had been
blown out of a port-hole!
An additional vessel, the _Russel_, had aided in the capture of the
powerful _Glorioso_, so it had taken four privateers to down the proud
Castilian: the _Duke_, the _Prince George_, the _Prince Frederick_,
and the _Russel_. Certainly she had put up a magnificent battle and
she had completely crippled the stout little craft sailed by Captain
Walker, who was now filled with chagrin and mortification, when he
found that the treasure (which he had been sure was in the hold) had
been safely landed at Ferrol, before he had sighted this valorous
man-of-warsman. It was a great blow both to him and to his men, and,
upon arriving at Lisbon he was met by one of the owners of his own
vessel, who severely reprimanded him for fighting with such a powerful
boat.
"Captain Walker," said he, "I fear that your fighting blood is
superior to your prudence!"
But to this, the game old sea-dog replied, with considerable heat:
"Had the treasure been aboard the _Glorioso_, as I expected, my dear
sir, your compliment would have been far different. Or had we let her
escape from us with the treasure aboard, what would you have said
then?"
To these sage reflections the owner did not reply.
The honesty and courage of this able seaman were never questioned, and
the following incident bears good witness to the first quality. Upon
one occasion he was sailing for Lisbon in a well-armed privateer, when
a couple of East India trading ships offered him L1,000 ($5,000) if he
would act as their guard and protect them from the enemy.
"Gentlemen," said he to the captain of these vessels, "I shall never
take a reward for what I consider it my duty to do without one. I
consider it my bounden duty to conduct you both safely into port, for
you are both British ships, and I am engaged to fight the enemies of
our King."
So he convoyed them safely into port and would not take even the
smallest present, in recompense for his services.
As a fighter he had no superior. War is simply glorified sport and
those who are best trained athletically can usually win upon the
battle-field. Did not Wellington say, "The battle of Waterloo was won
upon the foot-ball grounds of Eton and Harrow?" Which was another way
of saying that the boys who had learned to stand punishment upon the
athletic field, could take it manfully and well upon the field of
battle.
Walker believed in athletic exercise and made his sailors continually
practice both gunnery and work with the cutlass. They were always in
training and always prepared. That is the reason why they won. As you
know, if you want to win in athletics you have to train hard and
practice daily. If you want to win at warfare you have to do likewise.
The most athletic nation is the nation which will win in the long
fight, providing that it has sufficient resources and money to carry
out a war, once that it has placed its men in the field. It takes a
great deal of money to fight a war, but it takes trained men also, and
those who are the most fit will win every time.
The English are an athletic nation, an island nation, and great
numbers of her people have had to follow the sea as a matter of
course. Hence England has always had a vast quantity of well-trained
seamen at her beck and call. For this reason she has been more
successful upon the ocean than many of her neighbors. Will she
continue to be?
_If she continues to breed men like George Walker there is little
reason to doubt that she will always be a winner in sea fighting._
As for this famous mariner, little is known of his later life save
that he was once imprisoned for debt, but this was no disgrace in
those times and I am sure that he was soon liberated. He died
September 20th, 1777, but where he was buried is not known, nor is
there any record of his marriage. At any rate he has left the
reputation of a brave and valiant seaman who was beloved by his men,
feared by his enemies, and appreciated by his contemporaries.
"Britannia's glory first from ships arose;
To shipping still her power and wealth she owes.
Let each experienced Briton then impart,
His naval skill to perfect naval art."
BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD
Their silvered swords are red with rust,
Their plumed heads are bowed;
Their haughty banner, trailed in dust,
Is now their martial shroud.
And plenteous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow,
And the proud forms, by battle gashed,
Are free from anguish now.
Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone
In deathless song shall tell,
When many a vanished age hath flown,
The story how ye fell:
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight,
Nor Time's remorseless gloom,
Shall dim one ray of glory's light
That gilds your deathless tomb.
[Illustration: From "The Army and Navy of the United States."
AMERICAN PRIVATEER TAKING POSSESSION OF A PRIZE.]
JOHN PAUL JONES
THE FOUNDER OF THE AMERICAN NAVY
(1747-1792)
"Every generation has its own war. To forget the
disagreeable is a characteristic of the human
mind."--_The Philosopher._
JOHN PAUL JONES
THE FOUNDER OF THE AMERICAN NAVY
(1747-1792)
"Why! Shiver my bones! It's John Paul Jones!
Johnny the Pirate! Johnny should swing!
Johnny who hails from Old Scotlant y' know,
Johnny who's tryin' to fight our good King.
Shiver my Timbers! We'll catch the old fox!
_Clew up those top-sails! Ware o' th' shoals!_
_Fire 'cross his bow-lines! Steer for th' rocks!_
_Ease away on the jib-boom; shoot as she rolls!_
"Oh! Johnny, my Johnny, you're slick as can be,
But, Johnny, My John, you'll be nipped present-ly."
--_Song of the English Privateers._--1794.
A French frigate lay in the silvery water off Norfolk, Virginia, and,
as she swung quietly upon her anchor chains, a small sloop came
bobbing alongside. A hail arose from her stern, where sat a man of
about twenty-eight years; of medium stature, strongly built and
swarthy. He was dressed in the gray clothing of a Virginian planter.
"Hallo," he shouted in very good French. "May I come aboard?"
"_Certainement! Certainement!_" cried a French officer, as he neared
the rail. "Welcome, Monsieur Jones!"
And, as the Virginian farmer scrambled upon the deck, he was greeted
most effusively by a handsome nobleman. It was Louis Philippe Joseph,
Duke de Chartres; known as "the Sailor Prince of France." The
Virginian was John Paul Jones, of "Whitehaven" upon the river
Rappahannock.
"I bring you delicacies of the season from my garden," said the
planter, smiling. "Some for you, and some for the commander--the
Commodore de Kersaint. I trust that you will accept them, with my
kindest regards. Meanwhile, I beg that you will give me leave to
inspect your vessel and obtain information in regard to her plan,
construction of the hull, arrangement of the batteries, her spars, her
rig and other technical particulars. For, know you, Gentlemen, that
war has just commenced between Great Britain and her Colonies and the
newly-formed Marine Department of the Government will require a
knowledge of ships and their construction. Partly for this I have
visited you."
Kersaint's face grew sober.
"Monsieur Jones," said he, "I have just heard the news from Lexington
and I am the senior officer upon this coast. France is at peace with
England. The situation for me is a delicate one. I must refuse to
allow you to sketch any plans of my vessel."
But the young Duke de Chartres looked upon the matter in a different
light.
"You shall have all the assistance from me that you wish," he cried.
"I do not fear the displeasure of England."
So the Virginian planter was allowed to obtain the most complete data
of the new frigate, even to copies of deck plans and sail spread,
which he caused his carpenter to make. John Paul Jones was the guest
of the Frenchman for two or three days.
"And now you will visit my plantation," said he, when the time came
for him to leave. "Is it not so? For there I can repay some of the
kindnesses which you have shown me."
"That we cannot do," replied the French commander. "It would be most
impolitic for us to accept entertainment ashore from persons known to
be hostile to King George. But we thank you, exceedingly, for your
kind offer."
So John Paul Jones proceeded alone to his plantation, and the French
warship sailed for Corunna, Spain, after firing one gun as a salute to
the new-born nation.
The son of a Scotch gardener of Arbigland, Parish of Kirkbean, the
youthful farmer had emigrated to America, where his brother owned the
large plantation upon which he now resided. He found his kinsman dying
of what was then called lung fever--in our time pneumonia--and, as he
willed him his Virginian possessions, Jones was soon residing upon
"3,000 acres of prime land, on the right bank of the Rappahannock;
1,000 acres cleared and under plough, or grass; with 2,000 acres of
strong, first-growth timber." He had a grist-mill; a mansion;
overseer's houses; negro quarters; stables; tobacco houses; threshing
floors; thirty negroes of all ages; twenty horses and colts; eighty
neat cattle and calves; and many sheep and swine. Thus lived the
future sea-captain; in peace, plenty, and seclusion, at the outbreak
of the American Revolution.
John Paul Jones had gone to sea at the early age of twelve. As a
master's apprentice upon the stout brig _Friendship_, he had sailed
from Scotland to the North American Colonies, the West Indies, and
back again. He had kept to his seaman's life, and--so improved in
knowledge of his profession--that he became second mate; then first
mate; then Captain. At twenty-one he had amassed a fortune of about
one thousand guineas ($5,000) in gold,--then equal, in purchasing
power, to three times this sum. Besides this he had studied French and
Spanish assiduously, so that he could speak the first like a native.
It was to be of great help to the ambitious mariner. And he had plenty
of nerve, as the following incident bears full witness:
Upon one of his many voyages, the crew was reduced, by fever, to five
or six hands. One of them was a huge mulatto named Munro--or
"Mungo"--Maxwell. They became mutinous, and, as Captain Jones was the
only officer who could keep the deck, it was found necessary to subdue
the refractory seaman.
"Will you obey my orders?" cried Jones, picking up a belaying pin.
"You go sit down," cried Maxwell. "I no like you. _Pish!_ I could kill
you with one crack."
John Paul Jones did not answer, but walking towards the big black, he
struck him just one blow with his pin. "Mungo" dropped to the deck and
lay there. He never rose again.
Upon arriving at port, Captain Jones surrendered to the authorities,
and asked for a trial. It was given him.
"Captain Paul," asked the Judge, "are you, in conscience, satisfied
that you used no more force than was necessary to preserve discipline
on your ship?"
"May it please the most Honorable Court, Sir," answered the doughty
seaman, "it became imperative to strike the mutinous sailor, Maxwell.
Whenever it becomes necessary for a commanding officer to hit a
seaman, it is also necessary to strike with a weapon. I may say that
the necessity to strike carries with it the necessity to kill, or to
completely disable the mutineer. I had two brace of loaded pistols in
my belt, and could easily have shot him. I struck with a belaying pin
in preference, because I hoped that I might subdue him without killing
him. But the result proved otherwise. I trust that the Honorable Court
and the jury will take due account of the fact that, though amply
provided with pistols throwing ounce balls, necessarily fatal weapons,
I used a belaying pin, which, though dangerous, is not necessarily a
fatal weapon."
The judge smiled and Captain Paul was acquitted.
The famous Lord Nelson once said: "A naval officer, unlike a military
commander, can have no fixed plans. He must always be ready for _the_
chance. It may come to-morrow, or next week, or next year, or never;
but he must be _always ready_!" Nunquam non Paratus. (Never
unprepared.)
Paul Jones kept a copy of this maxim in his head. He was always in
training; always on the _qui vive_; always prepared. And--because he
was always prepared--he accomplished what would seem to be the
impossible.