Captain Clapsaddle not being at his lodgings, I rode on to the Coffee
House to put up my horse. I was stopped by Mr. Claude.
“Why, Mr. Carvel,” says he, “I thought you on the Eastern Shore. There
is a gentleman within will be mightily tickled to see you, or else his
protestations are lies, which they may very well be. His name? Now, 'Pon
my faith, it was Jones--no more.”
This thing of being called for at the Coffee House stirred up unpleasant
associations.
“What appearance does the man make?” I demanded.
“Merciful gad!” mine host exclaimed; “once seen, never forgotten, and
once heard, never forgotten. He quotes me Thomson, and he tells me of
his estate in Virginia.”
The answer was not of a sort to allay my suspicions.
“Then he appears to be a landowner?” said I.
“'Ods! Blest if I know what he is,” says Mr. Claude. “He may be
anything, an impostor or a high-mightiness. But he's something to
strike the eye and hold it, for all his Quaker clothes. He is swarth and
thickset, and some five feet eight inches--full six inches under your
own height. And he comes asking for you as if you owned the town between
you. 'Send a fellow to Marlboro' Street for Mr. Richard Carvel, my good
host!' says he, with a snap of his fingers. And when I tell him the news
of you, he is prodigiously affected, and cries--but here's my gentleman
now!”
I jerked my head around. Coming down the steps I beheld my old friend
and benefactor, Captain John Paul!
“Ahoy, ahoy!” cries he. “Now Heaven be praised, I have found you at
last.”
Out of the saddle I leaped, and straight into his arms.
“Hold, hold, Richard!” he gasped. “My ribs, man! Leave me some breath
that I may tell you how glad I am to see you.”
“Mr. Jones!” I said, holding him out, “now where the devil got you
that?”
“Why, I am become a gentleman since I saw you,” he answered, smiling.
“My poor brother left me his estate in Virginia. And a gentleman must
have three names at the least.”
I dropped his shoulders and shook with laughter.
“But Jones!” I cried. “'Ad's heart! could you go no higher? Has your
imagination left you, captain?”
“Republican simplicity, sir,” says he, looking a trifle hurt. But I
laughed the more.
“Well, you have contrived to mix oil and vinegar,” said I. “A landed
gentleman and republican simplicity. I'll warrant you wear silk-knit
under that gray homespun, and have a cameo in your pocket.”
He shook his head, looking up at me with affection.
“You might have guessed better,” he answered. “All of quality I have
about me are an enamelled repeater and a gold brooch.”
This made me suddenly grave, for McAndrews's words had been ringing
in my ears ever since he had spoken them. I hitched my arm into the
captain's and pulled him toward the Coffee House door.
“Come,” I said, “you have not dined, and neither have I. We shall
be merry to-day, and you shall have some of the best Madeira in the
colonies.” I commanded a room, that we might have privacy. As he
took his seat opposite me I marked that he had grown heavier and more
browned. But his eye had the same unfathomable mystery in it as of yore.
And first I upbraided him for not having writ me.
“I took you for one who glories in correspondence, captain,” said I;
“and I did not think you could be so unfaithful. I directed twice to you
in Mr. Orchardson's care.”
“Orchardson died before I had made one voyage,” he replied, “and
the Betsy changed owners. But I did not forget you, Richard, and was
resolved but now not to leave Maryland until I had seen you. But I burn
to hear of you,” he added. “I have had an inkling of your story from the
landlord. So your grandfather is dead, and that blastie, your uncle, of
whom you told me on the John, is in possession.”
He listened to my narrative keenly, but with many interruptions. And
when I was done, he sighed.
“You are always finding friends, Richard,” said he; “no matter what
your misfortunes, they are ever double discounted. As for me; I am like
Fulmer in Mr. Cumberland's 'West Indian': 'I have beat through every
quarter of the compass; I have bellowed for freedom; I have offered to
serve my country; I have'--I am engaging to betray it. No, Scotland
is no longer my country, and so I cannot betray her. It is she who has
betrayed me.”
He fell into a short mood of dejection. And, indeed, I could not but
reflect that much of the character fitted him like a jacket. Not the
betrayal of his country. He never did that, no matter how roundly they
accused him of it afterward.
To lift him, I cried:
“You were one of my first friends, Captain Paul” (I could not stomach
the Jones); “but for you I should now be a West Indian, and a miserable
one, the slave of some unmerciful hidalgo. Here's that I may live to
repay you!”
“And while we are upon toasts,” says he, bracing immediately, “I give
you the immortal Miss Manners! Her beauty has dwelt unfaded in my memory
since I last beheld her, aboard the Betsy.” Remarking the pain in my
face, he added, with a concern which may have been comical: “And she is
not married?”
“Unless she is lately gone to Gretna, she is not,” I replied, trying to
speak lightly.
“Alack! I knew it,” he exclaimed. “And if there's any prophecy in my
bones, she'll be Mrs. Carvel one of these days.”
“Well captain,” I said abruptly, “the wheel has gone around since I saw
you. Now it is you who are the gentleman, while I am a factor. Is it the
bliss you pictured?”
I suspected that his acres were not as broad, nor his produce as
salable, as those of Mount Vernon.
“To speak truth, I am heartily tired of that life,” said he. “There is
little glory in raising nicotia, and sipping bumbo, and cursing negroes.
Ho for the sea!” he cried. “The salt sea, and the British prizes. Give
me a tight frigate that leaves a singing wake. Mark me, Richard,” he
said, a restless gleam coning into his dark eyes, “stirring times are
here, and a chance for all of us to make a name.” For so it seemed ever
to be with him.
“They are black times, I fear,” I answered.
“Black!” he said. “No, glorious is your word. And we are to have an
upheaval to throw many of us to the top.”
“I would rather the quarrel were peacefully settled,” said I, gravely.
“For my part, I want no distinction that is to come out of strife and
misery.”
He regarded me quizzically.
“You are grown an hundred years old since I pulled you out of the sea,”
says he. “But we shall have to fight for our liberties. Here is a glass
to the prospect!”
“And so you are now an American?” I said curiously.
“Ay, strake and keelson,--as good a one as though I had got my sap in
the Maine forests. A plague of monarchs, say I. They are a blotch upon
modern civilization. And I have here,” he continued, tapping his pocket,
“some letters writ to the Virginia printers, signed Demosthenes, which
Mr. Randolph and Mr. Henry have commended. To speak truth, Richard, I
am off to Congress with a portmanteau full of recommendations. And I was
resolved to stop here even till I secured your company. We shall sweep
the seas together, and so let George beware!”
I smiled. But my blood ran faster at the thought of sailing under such
a captain. However, I made the remark that Congress had as yet no army,
let alone a navy.
“And think you that gentlemen of such spirit and resources will lack
either for long?” he demanded, his eye flashing.
“Then I know nothing of a ship save the little I learned on the John,” I
said.
“You were born for the sea, Richard,” he exclaimed, raising his glass
high. “And I would rather have one of your brains and strength and
handiness than any merchant's mate I ever sailed with. The more
gentlemen get commissions, the better will be our new service.”
At that instant came a knock at the door, and one of the inn negroes
to say that Captain Clapsaddle was below, and desired to see me. I
persuaded John Paul to descend with me. We found Captain Daniel seated
with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, and Mr. Chase.
“Captain,” I said to my old friend, “I have a rare joy this day in
making known to you Mr. John Paul Jones, of whom I have spoken to you
a score of times. He it is whose bravery sank the Black Moll, whose
charity took me to London, and who got no other reward for his faith
than three weeks in a debtors' prison. For his honour, as I have told
you, would allow him to accept none, nor his principles to take the
commission in the Royal Navy which Mr. Fox offered him.”
Captain Daniel rose, his honest face flushing with pleasure. “Faith, Mr.
Jones,” he cried, when John Paul had finished one of his elaborate bows,
“this is well met, indeed. I have been longing these many years for a
chance to press your hand, and in the names of those who are dead and
gone to express my gratitude.”
“I have my reward now, captain,” replied John Paul; “a sight of you is
to have Richard's whole life revealed. And what says Mr. Congreve?
“'For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds,
And tho' a late, a sure reward succeeds.'
“Tho' I would not have you believe that my deed was virtuous. And you,
who know Richard, may form some notion of the pleasure I had out of his
companionship.”
I hastened to present my friend to the other gentlemen, who welcomed him
with warmth, though they could not keep their amusement wholly out of
their faces.
“Mr. Jones is now the possessor of an estate in Virginia, sirs,” I
explained.
“And do you find it more to your taste than seafaring, Mr. Jones?”
inquired Mr. Chase.
This brought forth a most vehement protest, and another quotation.
“Why, sir,” he cried, “to be
'Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot,
To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot,'
is an animal's existence. I have thrown it over, sir, with a right good
will, and am now on my way to Philadelphia to obtain a commission in the
navy soon to be born.”
Mr. Chase smiled. John Paul little suspected that he was a member of the
Congress.
“This is news indeed, Mr. Jones,” he said. “I have yet to hear of the
birth of this infant navy, for which we have not yet begun to make
swaddling clothes.”
“We are not yet an infant state, sir,” Mr. Carroll put in, with a shade
of rebuke. For Maryland was well content with the government she
had enjoyed, and her best patriots long after shunned the length of
secession. “I believe and pray that the King will come to his senses.
And as for the navy, it is folly. How can we hope to compete with
England on the sea?”
“All great things must have a beginning sir,” replied John Paul,
launching forth at once, nothing daunted by such cold conservatism.
“What Israelite brickmaker of Pharaoh's dreamed of Solomon's temple?
Nay, Moses himself had no conception of it. And God will send us
our pillars of cloud and of fire. We must be reconciled to our great
destiny, Mr. Carroll. No fight ever was won by man or nation content
with half a victory. We have forests to build an hundred armadas, and I
will command a fleet and it is given me.”
The gentlemen listened in astonishment.
“I' faith, I believe you, sir,” cried Captain Daniel, with admiration.
The others, too, were somehow fallen under the spell of this remarkable
individuality. “What plan would you pursue, sir?” asked Mr. Chase,
betraying more interest than he cared to show.
“What plan, sir!” said Captain John Paul, those wonderful eyes of his
alight. “In the first place, we Americans build the fastest ships in the
world,--yours of the Chesapeake are as fleet as any. Here, if I am not
mistaken, one hundred and eighty-two were built in the year '71.
They are idle now. To them I would issue letters of marque, to harry
England's trade. From Carolina to Maine we have the wood and iron to
build cruisers, in harbours that may not easily be got at. And skilled
masters and seamen to elude the enemy.”
“But a navy must be organized, sir. It must be an unit,” objected
Mr. Carroll. “And you would not for many years have force enough, or
discipline enough, to meet England's navy.”
“I would never meet it, sir,” he replied instantly. “That would be the
height of folly. I would divide our forces into small, swift-sailing
squadrons, of strength sufficient to repel his cruisers. And I would
carry the war straight into his unprotected ports of trade. I can name
a score of such defenceless places, and I know every shoal of their
harbours. For example, Whitehaven might be entered. That is a town of
fifty thousand inhabitants. The fleet of merchantmen might with the
greatest ease be destroyed, a contribution levied, and Ireland's coal
cut off for a winter. The whole of the shipping might be swept out of
the Clyde. Newcastle is another likely place, and in almost any of the
Irish ports valuable vessels may be found. The Baltic and West Indian
fleets are to be intercepted. I have reflected upon these matters for
years, gentlemen. They are perfectly feasible. And I'll warrant you
cannot conceive the havoc and consternation their fulfilment would
spread in England.”
If the divine power of genius ever made itself felt, 'twas on that May
evening, at candle-light, in the Annapolis Coffee House. With my own
eyes I witnessed two able and cautious statesmen of a cautious province
thrilled to the pitch of enthusiasm by this strange young man of eight
and twenty. As for good Captain Daniel, enthusiasm is but a poor word to
express his feelings. A map was sent for and spread out upon the
table. And it was a late hour when Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll went
home, profoundly impressed. Mr. Chase charged John Paul look him up in
Congress.
The next morning I bade Captain Daniel a solemn good-by, and rode away
with John Paul to Baltimore. Thence we took stage to New Castle on
the Delaware, and were eventually landed by Mr. Tatlow's stage-boat at
Crooked Billet wharf, Philadelphia.
A BRIEF SUMMARY, WHICH BRINGS THIS BIOGRAPHY TO THE FAMOUS
FIGHT OF THE BON HOMME RICHARD AND THE SERAPIS
BY DANIEL CLAPSADDLE CARVEL
Mr. Richard Carvel refers here to the narrative of his experiences in
the War of the Revolution, which he had written in the year 1805 or
1806. The insertion of that account would swell this book, already
too long, out of all proportion. Hence I take it upon myself, with
apologies, to compress it.
Not until October of that year, 1775, was the infant navy born. Mr.
Carvel was occupied in the interval in the acquirement of practical
seamanship and the theory of maritime warfare under the most competent
of instructors, John Paul Jones. An interesting side light is thrown
upon the character of that hero by the fact that, with all his supreme
confidence in his ability, he applied to Congress only for a first
lieutenancy. This was in deference to the older men before that body. “I
hoped,” said he, “in that rank to gain much useful knowledge from those
of more experience than myself.” His lack of assertion for once cost him
dear. He sailed on the New Providence expedition under Commodore Hopkins
as first lieutenant of the Alfred, thirty; and he soon discovered that,
instead of gaining information, he was obliged to inform others. He
trained the men so thoroughly in the use of the great guns “that they
went through the motions of broadsides and rounds exactly as soldiers
generally perform the manual exercise.”
Captain Jones was not long in fixing the attention and earning the
gratitude of the nation, and of its Commander-in-Chief, General
Washington. While in command of the Providence, twelve four-pounders,
his successful elusions of the 'Cerberus', which hounded him, and
his escape from the 'Solebay', are too famous to be dwelt upon here.
Obtaining the Alfred, he captured and brought into Boston ten thousand
suits of uniform for Washington's shivering army. Then, by the bungling
of Congress, thirteen officers were promoted over his head. The
bitterness this act engendered in the soul of one whose thirst for
distinction was as great as Captain Jones's may be imagined. To his
everlasting credit be it recorded that he remained true to the country
to which he had dedicated his life and his talents. And it was not until
1781 that he got the justice due him.
That the rough and bluff captains of the American service should have
regarded a man of Paul Jones's type with suspicion is not surprising.
They resented his polish and accomplishments, and could not understand
his language. Perhaps it was for this reason, as well as a reward for
his brilliant services, that he was always given a separate command. In
the summer of 1777 he was singled out for the highest gift in the power
of the United States, nothing less than that of the magnificent frigate
'Indien', then building at Amsterdam. And he was ordered to France in
command of the 'Ranger', a new ship then fitting at Portsmouth. Captain
Jones was the admiration of all the young officers in the navy, and was
immediately flooded with requests to sail with him. One of his first
acts, after receiving his command, was to apply to the Marine Committee
for Mr. Carvel. The favour was granted.
My grandfather had earned much commendation from his superiors. He had
sailed two cruises as master's mate of the Cabot, and was then serving
as master of the Trumbull, Captain Saltonstall. This was shortly after
that frigate had captured the two British transports off New York.
Captain Jones has been at pains to mention in his letters the services
rendered him by Mr. Carvel in fitting out the Ranger. And my grandfather
gives a striking picture of the captain. At that time the privateers,
with the larger inducements of profit they offered, were getting all the
best seamen. John Paul had but to take two turns with a man across the
dock, and he would sign papers.
Captain Jones was the first to raise the new flag of the stars and
stripes over a man-o'-war. They got away on November 14, 1777, with a
fair crew and a poor lot of officers. Mr. Carvel had many a brush with
the mutinous first lieutenant Simpson. Family influence deterred the
captain from placing this man under arrest, and even Dr. Franklin found
trouble, some years after, in bringing about his dismissal from
the service. To add to the troubles, the Ranger proved crank and
slow-sailing; and she had only one barrel of rum aboard, which made the
men discontented.
Bringing the official news of Burgoyne's surrender, which was to cause
King Louis to acknowledge the independence of the United States, the
Ranger arrived at Nantes, December 2. Mr. Carvel accompanied Captain
Jones to Paris, where a serious blow awaited him. The American
Commissioners informed him that the Indien had been transferred to
France to prevent her confiscation. That winter John Paul spent
striving in vain for a better ship, and imbibing tactics from the French
admirals. Incidentally, he obtained a salute for the American flag.
The cruise of the Ranger in English waters the following spring was a
striking fulfilment, with an absurdly poor and inadequate force, of the
plan set forth by John Paul Jones in the Annapolis Coffee House. His
descent upon Whitehaven spread terror and consternation broadcast
through England, and he was branded as a pirate and a traitor. Mr.
Carvel was fortunately not of the landing party on St. Mary's Isle,
which place he had last beheld in John Paul's company, on the brigantine
John, when entering Kirkcudbright. The object of that expedition, as is
well known, was to obtain the person of the Earl of Selkirk, in order to
bring about the rescue of the unfortunate Americans suffering in British
prisons. After the celebrated capture of the sloop-of-war Drake, Paul
Jones returned to France a hero.
If Captain Jones was ambitious of personal glory, he may never, at
least, be accused of mercenary motives. The ragged crew of the Ranger
was paid in part out of his own pocket, and for a whole month he
supported the Drake's officers and men, no provision having been made
for prisoners. He was at large expense in fitting out the Ranger, and he
bought back at twice what it was worth the plate taken from St. Mary's
Isle, getting but a tardy recognition from the Earl of Selkirk for such
a noble and unheard-of action. And, I take pride in writing it, Mr.
Carvel spent much of what he had earned at Gordon's Pride in a like
honourable manner.
Mr. Carvel's description of the hero's reception at Versailles is
graphic and very humorous. For all his republican principles John Paul
never got over his love of courts, and no man was ever a more thorough
courtier. He exchanged compliments with Queen Marie Antoinette, who was
then in the bloom of her beauty, and declared that she was a “good girl,
and deserved to be happy.”
The unruly Simpson sailed for America in the Ranger in July, Captain
Jones being retained in France “for a particular enterprise.” And
through the kindness of Dr. Franklin, Mr. Carvel remained with him. Then
followed another period of heartrending disappointment. The fine ship
the French government promised him was not forthcoming, though Captain
Jones wrote a volume of beautiful letters to every one of importance,
from her Royal Highness the Duchess of Chartres to his Most Christian
Majesty, Louis, King of France and Navarre. At length, when he was
sitting one day in unusual dejection and railing at the vanity of courts
and kings, Mr. Carvel approached him with a book in his hand.
“What have you there, Richard?” the captain demanded.
“Dr. Franklin's Maxims,” replied my grandfather. They were great
favourites with him. The captain took the book and began mechanically to
turn over the pages. Suddenly he closed it with a bang, jumped up, and
put on his coat and hat. Mr. Carvel looked on in astonishment.
“Where are you going, sir?” says he.
“To Paris, sir,” says the captain. “Dr. Franklin has taught me more
wisdom in a second than I had in all my life before. 'If you wish to
have any business faithfully and expeditiously performed, go and do it
yourself; otherwise, send.'”
As a result of that trip he got the Duras, which he renamed the 'Bon
homme Richard' in honour of Dr. Franklin. The Duras was an ancient
Indiaman with a high poop, which made my grandfather exclaim, when he
saw her, at the remarkable fulfilment of old Stanwix's prophecy. She was
perfectly rotten, and in the constructor's opinion not worth refitting.
Her lowest deck (too low for the purpose) was pierced aft with three
ports on a side, and six worn-out eighteen-pounders mounted there. Some
of them burst in the action, killing their people. The main battery,
on the deck above, was composed of twenty-eight twelve-pounders. On the
uncovered deck eight nine-pounders were mounted. Captain Jones again
showed his desire to serve the cause by taking such a ship, and not
waiting for something better.
In the meantime the American frigate 'Alliance' had brought Lafayette to
France, and was added to the little squadron that was to sail with the
'Bon homme Richard'. One of the most fatal mistakes Congress ever made
was to put Captain Pierre Landais in command of her, out of compliment
to the French allies. He was a man whose temper and vagaries had
failed to get him a command in his own navy. His insulting conduct and
treachery to Captain Jones are strongly attested to in Mr. Carvel's
manuscript: they were amply proved by the written statements of other
officers.
The squadron sailed from L'Orient in June, but owing to a collision
between the Bon homme Richard and the Alliance it was forced to put back
into the Groix roads for repairs. Nails and rivets were with difficulty
got to hold in the sides of the old Indianian. On August 14th John Paul
Jones again set sail for English waters, with the following vessels:
Alliance, thirty-six; Pallas, thirty; Cerf, eighteen; Vengeance, twelve;
and two French privateers. Owing to the humiliating conditions imposed
upon him by the French Minister of Marine, Commodore Jones did not have
absolute command. In a gale on the 26th the two privateers and the Cerf
parted company, never to return. After the most outrageous conduct off
the coast of Ireland, Landais, in the 'Alliance', left the squadron
on September 6th, and did not reappear until the 23d, the day of the
battle.
Mr. Carvel was the third lieutenant of the 'Bon homme Richard', tho'
he served as second in the action. Her first lieutenant (afterwards the
celebrated Commodore Richard Dale) was a magnificent man, one worthy in
every respect of the captain he served. When the hour of battle arrived,
these two and the sailing master, and a number of raw midshipmen, were
the only line-officers left, and two French officers of marines.
The rest had been lost in various ways. And the crew of the 'Bon homme
Richard' was as sorry a lot as ever trod a deck. Less than three
score of the seamen were American born; near four score were British,
inclusive of sixteen Irish; one hundred and thirty-seven were French
soldiers, who acted as marines; and the rest of the three hundred odd
souls to fight her were from all over the earth,--Malays and Maltese
and Portuguese. In the hold were more than one hundred and fifty English
prisoners.
This was a vessel and a force, truly, with which to conquer a fifty-gun
ship of the latest type, and with a picked crew.
Mr. Carvel's chapter opens with Landais's sudden reappearance on the
morning of the day the battle was fought. He shows the resentment and
anger against the Frenchman felt by all on board, from cabin-boy
to commodore. But none went so far as to accuse the captain of the
'Alliance' of such supreme treachery as he was to show during the
action. Cowardice may have been in part responsible for his holding
aloof from the two duels in which the Richard and the Pallas engaged.
But the fact that he poured broadsides into the Richard, and into
her off side, makes it seem probable that his motive was to sink the
commodore's ship, and so get the credit of saving the day, to the
detriment of the hero who won it despite all disasters. To account for
the cry that was raised when first she attacked the Richard, it must be
borne in mind that the crew of the 'Alliance' was largely composed of
Englishmen. It was thought that these had mutinied and taken her.