THE CRUISE OF THE ALFRED.
When his countrymen heard the story of this daring and successful
cruise, Jones immediately became the most famous officer of the new
navy. The _éclat_ he had gained by his brilliant voyage at once raised
him from a more or less obscure position, and gave him a great
reputation in the eyes of his countrymen, a reputation he did not
thereafter lose. But Jones was not a man to live upon a reputation. He
had scarcely arrived at Providence before he busied himself with plans
for another undertaking. He had learned from prisoners taken on his
last cruise that there were a number of American prisoners, at various
places, who were undergoing hard labor in the coal mines of Cape
Breton Island, and he conceived the bold design of freeing them if
possible.
We are here introduced to one striking characteristic, not the least
noble among many, of this great man. The appeal of the prisoner always
profoundly touched his heart. The freedom of his nature, his own
passionate love for liberty and independence, the heritage of his
Scotch hills perhaps, ever made him anxious and solicitous about those
who languished in captivity. It was but the working out of that spirit
which compelled him to relinquish his participation in the lucrative
slave trade. In all his public actions, he kept before him as one of
his principal objects the release of such of his countrymen as were
undergoing the horrors of British prisons.
[Illustration: Map showing the cruise of the first American squadron,
and of the Providence and the Alfred.]
The suggested enterprise found favor in the mind of Commodore Hopkins,
who forthwith assigned Jones to the command of a squadron comprising
the Alfred, the Providence, and the brigantine Hampden. Jones hoisted
his flag on board the Alfred and hastened his preparations for
departure. He found the greatest difficulty in manning his little
squadron, and finally, in despair of getting a sufficient crew to man
them all, he determined to set sail with the Alfred and the Hampden
only, the latter vessel being commanded by Captain Hoysted Hacker. He
received his orders on the 22d of October, and on the 27th the two
vessels got under way from Providence. The wind was blowing fresh at
the time, and Hacker, who seems to have been an indifferent sailor,
ran the Hampden on a ledge of rock, where she was so badly wrecked as
to be unseaworthy. Jones put back to his anchorage, and, having
transferred the crew of the Hampden to the Providence, set sail on the
2d of November.
Both vessels were very short-handed. The Alfred, whose proper
complement was about three hundred, which had sailed from Philadelphia
with two hundred and thirty-five, now could muster no more than one
hundred and fifty all told. The two vessels were short of water,
provisions, munitions, and everything else that goes to make up a ship
of war. Jones made up for all this deficiency by his own personality.
On the evening of the first day out the two vessels anchored in
Tarpauling Cove, near Nantucket. There they found a Rhode Island
privateer at anchor. In accordance with the orders of the commodore,
Jones searched her for deserters, and from her took four men on board
the Alfred. He was afterward sued in the sum of ten thousand pounds
for this action, but, though the commodore, as he stated, abandoned
him in his defense, nothing came of the suit.
On the 3d of November, by skillful and successful maneuvering, the two
ships passed through the heavy British fleet off Block Island, and
squared away for the old cruising ground on the Grand Banks. In
addition to the release of the prisoners there was another object in
the cruise. A squadron of merchant vessels loaded with coal for the
British army in New York was about to leave Louisburg under convoy.
Jones determined to intercept them if possible.
On the 13th, off Cape Canso again, the Alfred encountered the British
armed transport Mellish, of ten guns, having on board one hundred and
fifty soldiers. After a trifling resistance she was captured. She was
loaded with arms, munitions of war, military supplies, and ten
thousand suits of winter clothing, destined for Sir Guy Carleton's
army in Canada. She was the most valuable prize which had yet fallen
into the hands of the Americans. The warm clothing, especially, would
be a godsend to the ragged, naked army of Washington. Of so much
importance was this prize that Jones determined not to lose sight of
her, and to convoy her into the harbor himself. Putting a prize crew
on board, he gave instructions that she was to be scuttled if there
appeared any danger of her recapture.
About this time two other vessels were captured, one of which was a
large fishing vessel, from which he was able to replenish his meager
store of provisions. On the 14th of November a severe gale blew up
from the northwest, accompanied by a violent snowstorm. Captain Hacker
bore away to the southward before the storm and parted company during
the night, returning incontinently to Newport. The weather continued
execrable. Amid blinding snowstorms and fierce winter gales the Alfred
and her prizes beat up along the desolate iron-bound shore. Jones
again entered the harbor of Canso, and, finding a large English
transport laden with provisions for the army aground on a shoal near
the mouth of the harbor, sent a boat party which set her on fire.
Seeing an immense warehouse filled with oil and material for whale and
cod fisheries, the boats made a sudden dash for the shore, and,
applying a torch to the building, it was soon consumed.
Beating off the shore, still accompanied by his prizes, he continued
up the coast of Cape Breton toward Louisburg, looking for the coal
fleet. It was his good fortune to run across it in a dense fog. It
consisted of a number of vessels under the convoy of the frigate
Flora, a ship which would have made short work of him if she could
have run across him. Favored by the impenetrable fog, with great
address and hardihood Jones succeeded in capturing no less than three
of the convoy, and escaped unnoticed with his prizes.
Two days afterward he came across a heavily armed British privateer
from Liverpool, which he took after a slight resistance. But now, when
he attempted to make Louisburg to carry out his design of levying on
the place and releasing the prisoners, he found that the harbor was
closed by masses of ice, and that it was impossible to effect a
landing. Indeed, his ships were in a perilous condition already. He
had manned no less than six prizes, which had reduced his short crew
almost to a prohibitive degree. On board the Alfred he had over one
hundred and fifty prisoners, a number greatly in excess of his own
men; his water casks were nearly empty, and his provisions were
exhausted. He had six prizes with him, one of exceptional value.
Nothing could be gained by lingering on the coast, and he decided,
therefore, to return.
The little squadron, under convoy of the Alfred and the armed
privateer, which he had manned and placed under the command of
Lieutenant Saunders, made its way toward the south in the fierce
winter weather. Off St. George's Bank they again encountered the
Milford. It was late in the afternoon when her topsails rose above the
horizon. The wind was blowing fresh from the northwest; the Alfred and
her prizes were on the starboard tack, the enemy was to windward. From
his previous experience Jones was able fairly to estimate the speed of
the Milford. A careful examination convinced him that it would be
impossible for the latter to close with his ships before nightfall. He
therefore placed the Alfred and the privateer between the English
frigate lasking down upon them and the rest of his ships, and
continued his course. He then signaled the prizes, with the exception
of the privateer, that they should disregard any orders or signals
which he might give in the night, and hold on as they were.
The prizes were slow sailers, and, as the slowest necessarily set the
pace for the whole squadron, the Milford gradually overhauled them. At
the close of the short winter day, when the night fell and the
darkness rendered sight of the pursued impossible, Jones showed a set
of lantern signals, and, hanging a top light on the Alfred, right
where it would be seen by the Englishmen, at midnight, followed by the
privateer, he changed his course directly away from the prizes. The
Milford promptly altered her course and pursued the light. The prizes,
in obedience to their orders, held on as they were. At daybreak the
prizes were nowhere to be seen, and the Milford was booming along
after the privateer and the Alfred.
To run was no part of Paul Jones' desires, and he determined to make a
closer inspection of the Milford, with a view to engaging if a
possibility of capturing her presented itself; so he bore up and
headed for the oncoming British frigate. The privateer did the same. A
nearer view, however, developed the strength of the enemy, and
convinced him that it would be madness to attempt to engage with the
Alfred and the privateer in the condition he then was, so he hauled
aboard his port tacks once more, and, signaling to the privateer,
stood off again. For some reason--Jones imagined that it was caused by
a mistaken idea of the strength of the Milford--Saunders signaled to
Jones that the Milford was of inferior force, and disregarding his
orders foolishly ran down under her lee from a position of perfect
safety, and was captured without a blow. The lack of proper
subordination in the nascent navy of the United States brought about
many disasters, and this was one of them. Jones characterized this as
an act of folly; it is difficult to dismiss it thus mildly. I would
fain do no man an injustice, but if a man wanted to be a traitor that
is the way he would act. Jones' own account of this adventure, which
follows, is of deep interest:
"This led the Milford entirely out of the way of the prizes, and
particularly the clothing ship, Mellish, for they were all out of
sight in the morning. I had now to get out of the difficulty in the
best way I could. In the morning we again tacked, and as the Milford
did not make much appearance I was unwilling to quit her without a
certainty of her superior force. She was out of shot, on the lee
quarter, and as I could only see her bow, I ordered the letter of
marque, Lieutenant Saunders, that held a much better wind than the
Alfred, to drop slowly astern, until he could discover by a view of
the enemy's side whether she was of superior or inferior force, and to
make a signal accordingly. On seeing Mr. Saunders drop astern, the
Milford wore suddenly and crowded sail toward the northeast. This
raised in me such doubts as determined me to wear also, and give
chase. Mr. Saunders steered by the wind, while the Milford went
lasking, and the Alfred followed her with a pressed sail, so that Mr.
Saunders was soon almost hull down to windward. At last the Milford
tacked again, but I did not tack the Alfred till I had the enemy's
side fairly open, and could plainly see her force. I then tacked about
ten o'clock. The Alfred being too light to be steered by the wind, I
bore away two points, while the Milford steered close by the wind, to
gain the Alfred's wake; and by that means he dropped astern,
notwithstanding his superior sailing. The weather, too, which became
exceedingly squally, enabled me to outdo the Milford by carrying more
sail. I began to be under no apprehension from the enemy's
superiority, for there was every appearance of a severe gale, which
really took place in the night. To my great surprise, however, Mr.
Saunders, toward four o'clock, bore down on the Milford, made the
signal of her inferior force, ran under her lee, and was taken!"
With the exception of one small vessel, which was recaptured, the
prizes all arrived safely, the precious Mellish finally reaching the
harbor of Dartmouth. The Alfred dropped anchor at Boston, December 15,
1776. The news of the captured clothing reached Washington and
gladdened his heart--and the hearts of his troops as well--on the eve
of the battle of Trenton.
The reward for this brilliant and successful cruise, the splendid
results of which had been brought about by the most meager means, was
an order relieving him of the command of the Alfred and assigning him
to the Providence again. When he arrived at Philadelphia the next
spring he found that by an act of Congress, on the 10th of October,
1776, which had created a number of captains in the navy, he, who had
been first on the list of lieutenants, and therefore the sixth ranking
sea officer, was now made the eighteenth captain. He was passed over
by men who had no claim whatever to superiority on the score of their
service to the Commonwealth, which had been inconsiderable or nothing
at all. Indeed, there was no man in the country who by merit or
achievement was entitled to precede him, except possibly Nicholas
Biddle.
If the friendless Scotsman had commanded more influence, more
political prestige, so that he might have been rewarded for his
auspicious services by placing him at the head of the navy, I venture
to believe that some glorious chapters in our marine history would
have been written.