THE ESCAPE OF THE ALLIANCE.
Christmas day passed gloomily enough, I imagine, for the Americans on
the Alliance. There had been opportunities, of course, when it would
have been possible for Jones to have made the mouth of the harbor, but
his capture would have been inevitable. So, on one pretext or another,
he delayed until the night of the 27th of December, when he weighed
anchor and dropped down to the mouth of the Texel. Early the next
morning in a howling gale he dashed for the sea. On the same day he
sent the following note back to Dumas, and merrily proceeded on his
way:
"I am here, my dear sir, with a good wind at east, and under my best
American colours; so far you have your wish. What may be the event of
this critical moment I know not; I am not, however, without good
hopes. Through the ignorance or drunkenness of the old pilot the
Alliance last night got foul of a Dutch merchant ship, and I believe
the Dutchmen cut our cable. We lost the best bower anchor, and the
ship was brought up with the sheet anchor so near the shore that this
morning I have been obliged to cut the cable in order to get clear of
the shore, and that I might not lose this opportunity of escaping from
purgatory."
Though he had escaped from the Texel, his situation was one of extreme
peril. It is claimed that no less than forty sail were on the lookout
for him in the English Channel; and, besides those specifically
detailed for the purpose, there were a number of ships and at least
two great fleets at anchor in these narrow waters, which he would have
to pass. I suppose that never before had so many vessels been on the
lookout for a single ship as in this instance. It never seems to have
occurred to the blockading ships that Jones would attempt to pass down
the Channel; his safest course from the point of view of the ordinary
man would have been through the North Sea and around Scotland and
Ireland. But Jones was not an ordinary man, though the English refused
to see the fact. Consequently, his bold course took them by surprise,
and, as usual, by choosing apparently the most dangerous way he
escaped. And the way of it was this: By the exercise of his usual
seamanship Jones managed to hug the Flemish banks so closely that he
passed to windward of the British blockading ships, which were driven
to the northward by the same gale of which he had taken advantage.
The wind came strongly from the east, and under a great press of
canvas the Alliance staggered away toward the south, keeping as close
as possible to the weather shore until all danger from the immediate
blockading fleet was avoided. Then Jones ran for the middle of the
Channel, and the next day the Alliance passed through the straits of
Dover and ran close to the Goodwin Sands, passing in full view of a
large English fleet anchored in the Downs only three miles to leeward.
On the day after, the 29th, the Alliance flew by the Isle of Wight,
running near enough to take a good look at another fleet at Spithead.
On the 1st of January Jones was out of the Channel, having passed in
sight of, and almost in range, at different times in this bold dash
for freedom, of several British ships of the line, just out of gunshot
to leeward. During all this time he had not ceased to fly the American
flag. I do not know of a more splendid piece of sea bravado than this
dash of the Alliance from the Texel. The daring and gallantry of the
man at first seemed to have led him into injudicious and dangerous
situations when he took the Alliance so close to the English coast and
the British fleets; but his effrontery was governed by that sound and
practical sense which ever distinguished his conduct from mere
unthinking recklessness, for no one would ever imagine that the
escaping ship would take such a course, and those vessels on the
lookout for him would probably be found where a less subtle commander
would have endeavored to pass--off the Flemish coast and near the
French shore, for instance. Be that as it may, the little Alliance,
with her Stars and Stripes flapping defiantly in the great breeze in
the face of the overmastering English ships, running the gantlet of
her enemies, is a picture we love to think upon.
The ship was in a critical condition. Damages which she had incurred
in her voyage from Boston to France were still unrepaired. Her trim
had been altered for the worse by Landais' blunders, and the improper
stowage of the ballast had dangerously strained her and greatly
diminished her speed, which had originally been very high. There was
no way these things could have been temporarily repaired in the Texel;
in fact, but little could be done until the vessel reached France.
Owing to the unsanitary regimen of Landais, disease had broken out at
different times, and the ship had become so dirty that nothing short
of a thorough disinfection would render her safe for her crew. She was
much overcrowded with men, all actually or professedly American, and
carried a hundred prisoners as well. There were two sets of officers
on board--those originally attached to her and the officers of the
Richard. Jealousy and bickerings between the two crews were prevalent.
Naturally, they had no love for each other. The officers and men of
the Richard could not forget the conduct of those on the Alliance, and
they looked upon them with hatred and contempt. Sailorlike, the men of
the Alliance reciprocated that feeling. It was the desire of every
one, except Jones and a few others, to get to France at once, but the
commodore wished to return with more prizes; so he bore away to the
south and west, seeking for ships, impressing upon his discontented
men that the Alliance was equal to anything under a fifty-gun ship! He
was not fortunate on this occasion, however, and finally, to avoid a
threatened gale, he ran into the port of Corunna in Spain, on the 16th
of January, 1780, where he was kindly received and hospitably
entertained. During this cruise, in spite of the responsibilities of
his position, he found time to compose the following verses in reply
to a similar communication which he had received from the daughter of
M. Dumas (it will be remembered that he deplored his inability in the
Texel to find time for his present occupation):
"Were I, Paul Jones, dear maid, 'the king of sea,'
I find such merit in thy virgin song,
A coral crown with bays I'd give to thee,
A car which on the waves should smoothly glide along;
The Nereides all about thy side should wait,
And gladly sing in triumph of thy state,
'Vivat! vivat! the happy virgin Muse!
Of liberty the friend, who tyrant power pursues!'
"Or, happier lot! Were fair Columbia free
From British tyranny, and youth still mine,
I'd tell a tender tale to one like thee
With artless looks and breast as pure as thine.
If she approved my flame, distrust apart,
Like faithful turtles, we'd have but one heart;
Together, then, we'd tune the silver lyre,
As love or sacred freedom should our lays inspire.
"But since, alas! the rage of war prevails,
And cruel Britons desolate our land,
For freedom still I spread my willing sails,
My unsheath'd sword my injured country shall command.
Go on, bright maid! the Muses all attend
Genius like thine, and wish to be its friend.
Trust me, although conveyed through this poor shift,
My New Year's thoughts are grateful for thy gift."
I have read worse poetry than this, also better, but it is very
creditable to the sailor. If the reader has a low opinion of it, let
him essay some verse-writing himself.[33]
While at Corunna, the ship was careened and her bottom scraped as far
as possible without docking her, and, having procured an anchor to
take the place of the two lost in the Texel, Jones prepared to set
forth once more. The 28th of January was fixed for his departure, but
the discontent among the crew reached such a pitch that they
positively refused to weigh anchor unless they received at least a
portion of their pay or prize money. Nothing had been paid them from
the time the ships had been put in commission until they reached the
Texel. There Jones had received from Amsterdam a small sum of money,
from which he advanced five ducats to each of the officers and one to
each of the men. The amount, compared to their dues and needs, was so
insignificant that many of the men threw the money into the sea in
disgust--a very foolish but extremely sailorlike action.
There were many patriotic men on these ships who merit the approbation
and deserve the gratitude of their country. They had shown, especially
those belonging to the Richard, a most desperate courage in most
trying scenes. They had performed services upon which no monetary
value could be placed, and had subjected themselves to dangers which
no mere pecuniary consideration could have tempted them to face. It
may at first, therefore, seem surprising that they should have so
resolutely demanded their pay and prize money, even to the extent of
mutinying for it; but it is a common experience that men who will
freely offer themselves for the most dangerous undertakings, and who
really are actuated by the strongest kind of patriotism, will quarrel
and rebel, and even fight, for the petty amounts promised them by way
of wages, which in themselves neither could tempt them to, nor repay
them for, the sacrifices they had cheerfully undergone. Frankly, I
have the greatest sympathy with the point of view of the unpaid
soldiers or sailors of the past, and I quite understand their demands
and complaints under such circumstances.
Perhaps there is an association of ideas between fighting for the
liberties of one's country and demanding one's dues. Both are a revolt
against injustice and oppression. The mind of the common sailor,
especially of that day, was not calculated to draw nice distinctions,
and he could see little difference between fighting for liberty and
demanding that the country whose independence he periled his life to
establish should show the small appreciation of his devotion involved
in paying his scanty wages and not withholding his lawful prize money.
Jones struggled for rank, station, reputation, opportunity; these men
could aspire to no higher station than they already filled, and their
corresponding effort was for the money justly due them.
The Richard's men had lost practically everything except the clothes
they stood in when their ship went down, and their personal needs were
necessarily very great. The original crew of the Alliance were under
the impression that Jones had reserved from the small sum he had
received at Amsterdam a considerable portion for himself. There is not
the slightest evidence to warrant this supposition. The commodore was
the most prodigal and generous of men, and his whole career evidences
his entire willingness to devote his own personal property to the
welfare and wages of his men. He finally persuaded the crew to get
under way by promising to run direct to L'Orient, where he hoped they
would undoubtedly receive their prize money. With this understanding
the crew consented to work the ship to that point, and their departure
was accordingly taken on the 28th.
When the vessel was fairly at sea, however, Jones summoned the
officers to the cabin and proposed that they should cruise two or
three weeks in those waters before making their promised port. I am
afraid that the commodore allowed the possibility of taking some
valuable prizes and perhaps another British frigate to incline him to
break his promise to his men. His interview in his cabin with his
officers was an interesting one. With all the eloquence of which he
was a master--and he was able to speak convincingly and well on
congenial subjects--he placed before them the possibilities presented,
appealed to their patriotism, their love of fame, and as a last
resort pointed out the further monetary advantage of another rich
prize--Iago's argument! If they were successful in taking another
frigate they would shed still greater luster upon their names, and put
money in their pockets. The officers, however, bluntly refused to be
persuaded. They emphasized the mutinous and discontented state of the
crews, who had only sailed under Jones' positive promise to take them
immediately to L'Orient; pointed out that many of the men had not
proper clothing with which to endure the severe winter weather, and
that they themselves were in a destitute condition.
Their natural reluctance to fall in with his plans infuriated Jones.
Rising from the chair upon which he had been sitting, with an emphatic
stamp of his foot he dismissed them with a sneering contempt in the
following words:
"I do not want your advice, neither did I send for you to comply with
your wishes, but only by way of paying you a compliment, which was
more than you deserve by your opposition. Therefore, you know my mind;
go to your duty, each one of you, and let me hear no more grumbling!"
The Alliance cruised for some days to the westward of Cape Finisterre,
but, as the quarreling between the two crews ran higher than ever, and
as Jones had failed to keep his promise, thus adding to their
discontent, when they fell in with the American ship Livingstone,
laden with a valuable cargo of tobacco, Jones gave over his attempt,
and decided to convoy her to L'Orient, where he arrived on the 10th of
February, 1780. That he should gravely have contemplated action with a
British frigate with his ill-conditioned ship and mutinous crew shows
the confidence he felt in his own ability. I have no doubt that,
unprepared as she was, if the Alliance had fallen in with an English
ship Jones would have been able to persuade his men to action, and
with anything like an equal force the results would have been
satisfactory.