But the British were fairly outfought, and the outcome of the battle

was disastrous to them. A newspaper of the period, speaking of the

fight says, "Under God, our little party at the water-side performed

wonders; for they soon made themselves masters of both the schooners,

the cutter, the two barges, the boat, and every man in them, and all

that pertained to them. In the action, which lasted several hours, we

have lost but one man; two others wounded,--one of whom is since dead,

the other very slightly wounded. We took of the man-of-war's men

thirty-five; several are wounded, and one since dead; twenty-four are

sent to headquarters. The remainder, being impressed from this and

neighboring towns, are permitted to return to their friends. This

morning Capt. Lindzee warped off with but one-half of his men, with

neither a prize-boat nor tender, except a small skiff the wounded

lieutenant returned in."

The work done by the small armed schooners of which the "Lee" was a

type encouraged Congress to proceed with the work of organizing a

regular navy; and by the end of 1775 that body had authorized the

building of thirteen war-vessels carrying from twenty-four to

thirty-two guns each. But as some naval force was obviously necessary

during the construction of this fleet, five vessels were procured, and

the new navy was organized with the following roster of officers:--

Esek Hopkins _Commander-in-chief._

Dudley Saltonstall _Captain of the "Alfred."_

Abraham Whipple _Captain of the "Columbus."_

Nicholas Biddle _Captain of the "Andrea Doria."_

John B. Hopkins _Captain of the "Cabot."_

A long list of lieutenants was also provided, among whom stands out

boldly the name of John Paul Jones. John Manly, whose dashing work in

the schooner "Lee" we have already noticed, was left in command of his

little craft until the thirty-two-gun ship "Hancock" was completed,

when he was put in charge of her.

It may possibly have occurred to some of my readers to wonder what

flag floated from the mastheads of these ships. There is much

confusion upon this point, and not a little uncertainty. There were

three classes of American armed vessels on the seas. First were the

privateers, that sailed under any flag that might suit their purpose.

Next came the vessels fitted out and commissioned by the individual

colonies; these usually floated the flag of the colony from which they

hailed. Last came the vessels commissioned by Congress, which at the

outset floated many banners of diverse kinds. It fell to the lot of

Lieut. Paul Jones, however, to hoist the first authorized American

flag over a regularly commissioned vessel-of-war. This flag was of

bunting, showing a pine-tree on a plain white ground, with the words

"Liberty Tree" and "Appeal to God" prominently displayed. This flag

was chiefly used until the adoption of the stars and stripes. The

"rattlesnake flag," with a reptile in the act of striking, and the

legend "Don't tread on me," was largely used by the privateers.

The year 1775 closed with but little activity upon the ocean. The

ships of the regular navy were late in getting into commission, and an

early winter impeded their usefulness. Some little work was done by

privateers and the ships of the different colonies, and the ships of

the British navy were kept fully occupied in guarding against the

operations of these gentry. The man-of-war "Nautilus" chased an

American privateer into a little cove near Beverly, and in the heat of

the chase both vessels ran aground. The people on shore put off to the

privateer, and quickly stripped her of her cordage and armament, and

with the guns built a small battery by the water-side, from which they

opened a telling fire upon the stranded "Nautilus." The man-of-war

returned in kind, and did some slight damage to the town; but when the

tide had risen she slipped her cables and departed. Such desultory

encounters were of frequent occurrence, but no naval battles of any

importance took place until the spring of 1776.

[Illustration: Commodore Esek Hopkins.]

CHAPTER V.

EVENTS OF 1776. -- THE FIRST CRUISE OF THE REGULAR NAVY. --

THE "LEXINGTON" AND THE "EDWARD." -- MUGFORD'S BRAVE FIGHT.

-- LOSS OF THE "YANKEE HERO." -- CAPT. MANLY, AND THE

"DEFENCE." -- AMERICAN VESSELS IN EUROPEAN WATERS. -- GOOD

WORK OF THE "LEXINGTON" AND THE "REPRISAL." -- THE BRITISH

DEFEATED AT CHARLESTON.

The year 1776 witnessed some good service done for the cause of

liberty by the little colonial navy. The squadron, under the command

of Ezekiel Hopkins, left the Delaware in February, as soon as the ice

had left the river, and made a descent upon the island of New

Providence, where the British had established a naval station. The

force under Hopkins consisted of seven vessels-of-war, and one

despatch-boat. The attack was successful in every way, a landing party

of three hundred marines and sailors which was sent ashore meeting

with but little resistance from the British garrison. By this exploit,

the Americans captured over a hundred cannon, and a great quantity of

naval stores.

After this exploit, Hopkins left New Providence, carrying away with

him the governor and one or two notable citizens, and continued his

cruise. His course was shaped to the northward, and early in April he

found himself off the shore of Long Island. He had picked up a couple

of insignificant British vessels,--one a tender of six guns, and the

other an eight-gun bomb-brig. But his cruise had been mainly barren of

results; and his crew, who had looked forward to sharp service and

plenty of prize-money, were beginning to grumble. But their inactivity

was not of long duration; for before daylight on the morning of April

6, the lookout at the masthead of the "Alfred" sighted a large ship,

bearing down upon the American squadron. The night was clear and

beautiful, the wind light, and the sea smooth; and so, although it

lacked several hours to daylight, the commanders determined to give

battle to the stranger. Soon, therefore, the roll of the drums beating

to quarters was heard over the water, and the angry glare of the

battle lanterns on the gun-decks made the open ports of the war-ships

stand out like fiery eyes against the black hulls. The Englishman, who

proved later to be the "Glasgow," twenty guns, carrying one hundred

and fifty men, might easily have escaped; but, apparently undaunted by

the odds against him, he awaited the attack. The little "Cabot" was

the first American ship to open fire on the enemy. Her attack, though

sharp and plucky, was injudicious; for two of the Englishman's heavy

broadsides were enough to send her out of the battle for repairs. The

"Glasgow" and the "Alfred" then took up the fight, and exchanged

repeated broadsides; the American vessel suffering the more serious

injuries of the two. After some hours of this fighting, the "Glasgow"

hauled away, and made good her escape, although she was almost

surrounded by the vessels of the American squadron. It would seem that

only the most careless seamanship on the part of the Americans could

have enabled a twenty-gun vessel to escape from four vessels, each one

of which was singly almost a match for her. It is evident that the

Continental Congress took the same view of the matter, for Hopkins was

soon after dismissed from the service.

This action was little to the credit of the sailors of the colonial

navy. Fortunately, a second action during the same month set them in a

better light before the people of the country. This was the encounter

of the "Lexington," Capt. Barry, with the British vessel "Edward," off

the capes of Virginia. The two vessels were laid yard-arm to yard-arm;

and a hot battle ensued, in which the Americans came off the victors.

The career of this little American brig was a rather remarkable one.

The year following her capture of the "Edward," she was again off the

capes of the Delaware, and again fell in with a British ship. This

time, however, the Englishman was a frigate, and the luckless

"Lexington" was forced to surrender. Her captor left the Americans

aboard their own craft, and, putting a prize crew aboard, ordered them

to follow in the wake of the frigate. That night the Americans plotted

the recapture of their vessel. By a concerted movement, they

overpowered their captors; and the "Lexington" was taken into

Baltimore, where she was soon recommissioned, and ordered to cruise in

European waters.

Shortly after the battle between the "Lexington" and the "Edward,"

there was fought in Massachusetts Bay an action in which the Americans

showed the most determined bravery, and which for the courage shown,

and losses suffered on either side, may well be regarded as the most

important of the naval battles of that year. Early in May, a merchant

seaman named Mugford had succeeded, after great importunity, in

securing the command of the armed vessel "Franklin," a small cruiser

mounting only four guns. The naval authorities had been unwilling to

give him the command, though he showed great zeal in pressing his

suit. Indeed, after the appointment had been made, certain damaging

rumors concerning the newly appointed captain reached the ears of the

marine committee, and caused them to send an express messenger to

Boston to cancel Mugford's commission. But the order arrived too late.

Mugford had already fitted out his ship, and sailed. He had been but a

few days at sea, when the British ship "Hope," of four hundred tons

and mounting six guns, hove in sight. More than this, the lookout

reported that the fleet of the British commodore Banks lay but a few

miles away, and in plain sight. Many a man would have been daunted by

such odds. Not so Capt. Mugford. Mustering his men, he showed them the

British ship, told them that she carried heavier metal than the

"Franklin," told them that the British fleet lay near at hand, and

would doubtless try to take a hand in the engagement; then, having

pointed out all the odds against them, he said, "Now, my lads, it's a

desperate case; but we can take her, and win lots of glory and

prize-money. Will you stand by me?"

The jackies wasted no time in debate, but, cheering lustily for the

captain, went to their posts, and made ready for a hot fight. The

naval discipline of the present day was little known, and less

observed, at that time in the American navy. The perfect order which

makes the gun-deck of a ship going into action as quiet and solemn as

during Sunday prayers then gave place to excited talk and bustle. The

men stood in crews at the four guns; but most of the jackies were

mustered on the forecastle, ready to board. All expected a desperate

resistance. Great was their surprise, then, when they were permitted

to take a raking position under the stern of the "Hope," and to board

her without a shot being fired. But as Mugford, at the head of the

boarders, clambered over the taffrail, he heard the captain of the

"Hope" order the men to cut the topsail halliards and ties, with the

intention of so crippling the ship that the British squadron might

overhaul and recapture her.

"Avast there!" bawled Mugford, seeing through the plot in an instant,

and clapping a pistol to the head of the captain; "if a knife is

touched to those ropes, not a man of this crew shall live."

This threat so terrified the captured sailors, that they relinquished

their design; and Mugford, crowding all sail on his prize, soon was

bowling along before a stiff breeze, with the British squadron in hot

pursuit. An examination of the ship's papers showed her to be the most

valuable prize yet taken by the Americans. In her hold were fifteen

hundred barrels of powder, a thousand carbines, a great number of

travelling carriages for cannon, and a most complete assortment of

artillery instruments and pioneer tools. While running for Boston

Harbor, through the channel known as Point Shirley gut, the vessel

grounded, but was soon floated, and taken safely to her anchorage. Her

arrival was most timely, as the American army was in the most dire

straits for gunpowder. It may well be imagined that there was no

longer any talk about revoking Capt. Mugford's commission.

Mugford remained in port only long enough to take a supply of powder

from his prize; then put to sea again. He well knew that the British

fleet that had chased him into Boston Harbor was still blockading the

harbor's mouth, but he hoped to evade it by going out through a

circuitous channel. Unluckily, in thus attempting to avoid the enemy,

the "Franklin" ran aground, and there remained hard and fast in full

view of the enemy. He had as consort the privateer schooner "Lady

Washington," whose captain, seeing Mugford's dangerous predicament,

volunteered to remain near at hand and assist in the defence.

Mugford knew that his case was desperate, and made preparations for a

most determined resistance. Swinging his craft around, he mounted all

four of his guns on that side which commanded the channel in the

direction from which the enemy was expected. Boarding-nettings were

triced up, and strengthened with cables and cordage, to make an

effective barrier against the assaults of boarders. The men were

served with double rations of grog, and set to work sharpening the

cutlasses and spears, with which they were well provided. The work of

preparation was completed none too soon; for about nine o'clock

Mugford heard the rattle of oars in rowlocks, and saw boats gliding

towards the "Franklin" through the darkness.

"Boat ahoy!" he challenged. "Keep off, or I shall fire into you."

"Don't fire," was the response; "we are friends from Boston coming to

your aid."

"We want none of your aid," cried Mugford with an oath. Then, turning

to his crew, he shouted, "Let them have it, boys."

The roar of the cannon then mingled with the rattle of the musketry,

the cries of the wounded, and the shouts and curses of the combatants,

as the British strove to clamber up the sides of the "Franklin." Not

less than two hundred men were engaged on the side of the British, who

advanced to the fray in thirteen large barges, many of them carrying

swivel guns. Several boats dashed in close under the side of the

"Franklin," and their crews strove manfully to board, but were beaten

back by the Yankees, who rained cutlass blows upon them. The long

pikes with which the Americans were armed proved particularly

effective. "One man with that weapon is positive of having killed nine

of the enemy," says a newspaper of that day.

Unhappily, however, the heroic Mugford, while urging on his men to a

more vigorous resistance, was struck by a musket-ball, which inflicted

a mortal wound. At the moment the wound was received, he was reaching

out over the quarter to catch hold of the mast of one of the barges,

in the hope of upsetting her. As he fell to the deck, he called his

first lieutenant, and said, "I am a dead man. Do not give up the

vessel; you will be able to beat them off." Nearly forty years after,

the heroic Lawrence, dying on the deck of the "Chesapeake," repeated

Mugford's words, "Don't give up the ship."

For about half an hour the battle raged fiercely. The British, beaten

back with great loss, returned again and again to the attack. The

boats would come under the lee of the "Franklin;" but, not being

provided with grappling-irons, the British were forced to lay hold of

the gunwales of the enemy with their hands, which the Americans

promptly lopped off with their cutlasses. Shots from the swivel guns

of the Yankee soon stove in two of the boats of the enemy, which sunk,

carrying down many of their crew. After nearly an hour of this

desperate fighting, the British withdrew, having lost about seventy

men. The only loss sustained by the Americans was that of their brave

commander Mugford.

About a month after this battle, there occurred off the coast of

Massachusetts a battle in which the Americans, though they fought with

the most undaunted bravery, were forced to strike their colors to

their adversary. The American was the privateer "Yankee Hero" of

Newburyport. She sailed from that place for Boston on the 7th of June

with only forty men aboard, intending to ship her full complement of

one hundred and twenty at Boston. As the "Hero" rounded Cape Ann, she

sighted a sail on the horizon, but in her short-handed condition did

not think it worth while to give chase. The stranger, however, had

caught sight of the "Hero;" and, a fresh southerly breeze springing

up, she began to close with the American. As she came closer, Capt.

Tracy of the "Yankee Hero" saw that she was a ship-of-war. Despite the

desperate efforts of the Americans to escape, their pursuer rapidly

overhauled them, and soon coming up within half a mile, opened fire

with her bow chasers. The brig returned the fire with a swivel gun,

which had little effect. Seeing this, Capt. Tracy ordered the firing

to cease until the ships should came to close quarters. The stranger

rapidly overhauled the privateer, keeping up all the time a vigorous

fire. Tracy with difficulty restrained the ardor of his men, who were

anxious to try to cripple their pursuer. When the enemy came within

pistol-shot, Tracy saw that the time for action on his part had come,

and immediately opened fire with all the guns and small-arms that

could be brought to bear. The only possible chance for escape lay in

crippling the big craft with a lucky shot; but broadside after

broadside was fired, and still the great ship came rushing along in

the wake of the flying privateer. Closer and closer drew the bulky

man-of-war, until her bow crept past the stern of the "Yankee Hero,"

and the marines upon her forecastle poured down a destructive volley

of musketry upon the brig's crowded deck. The plight of the privateer

was now a desperate one. Her heavy antagonist was close alongside, and

towered high above her, so that the marines on the quarter-deck and

forecastle of the Englishman were on a level with the leading blocks

of the Yankee. From the depressed guns of the frigate, a murderous

fire poured down upon the smaller craft. For an hour and twenty

minutes the two vessels continued the fight, pouring hot broadsides

into each other, and separated by less than a hundred feet of water.

The brisk breeze blowing carried away the clouds of smoke, and left

the men on the deck of the Yankee no protection from sharp-shooters on

the enemy's deck. Accordingly, the execution was frightful. Tracy,

from his post on the quarter-deck, saw his men falling like sheep,

while the continual volleys of the great ship had so cut the cordage

of the weaker vessel that escape was impossible. At last a musket-ball

struck Capt. Tracy in the thigh, and he fell bleeding to the deck. For

a moment his men wavered at their guns; but he called manfully to

them, from where he lay, to fight on boldly for the honor of the

"Yankee Hero." Two petty officers had rushed to his assistance; and he

directed them to lay him upon a chest of arms upon the quarter-deck,

whence he might direct the course of the battle. But, strong though

was his spirit, his body was too weak to perform the task he had

allotted it; and, growing faint from pain and loss of blood, he was

carried below.

He lay unconscious for a few minutes, but was recalled to his senses

by the piteous cries of wounded men by whom he was surrounded. When he

came to himself, he saw the cabin filled with grievously wounded

people, bleeding and suffering for lack of surgical aid. The firing of

the privateer had ceased, but the enemy was still pouring in pitiless

broadsides. Enraged at this spectacle, Capt. Tracy ordered his men to

re-open the conflict, and directed that he be taken in a chair to the

quarter-deck. But, on getting into the chair, he was suddenly seized

with a fainting spell, and gave orders, by signs, that the colors be

struck.

When the inequality of the two enemies is considered, this action

appears to be a most notable reason for pride in the powers of the

Americans. The "Yankee Hero" was a low single-decked vessel of

fourteen guns, while her captor was the British frigate of thirty-two

guns. Yet the little American vessel had held her own for two hours,

and by good gunnery and skilful manoeuvring had succeeded in doing

almost as much damage as she had suffered.

In reading of the naval engagements of the Revolution, one is

impressed with the small sacrifice of life that attended the most

protracted conflicts. Thus in the action just recorded only four men

were killed upon the defeated ship, although for more than an hour the

two vessels had exchanged broadsides a distance of less than a hundred

feet apart. The execution done on the British frigate has never been

recorded, but was probably even less.

Only the most fragmentary account can be given of any naval actions in

the year 1776, except those in which America's great naval hero Paul

Jones took part. Of the trivial encounters that go to complete the

naval annals of the year, only the briefest recountal is necessary.

The work of the little brig "Andrea Doria," Capt. Biddle, deserves a

passing mention. This little fourteen-gun craft had the most wonderful

luck in making prizes. Besides capturing two transports loaded with

British soldiers, she took so many merchantmen, that on one cruise she

brought back to port only five of her original crew, the rest having

all been put aboard prizes.

On the 17th of June, the crew of the Connecticut cruiser "Defence," a

fourteen-gun brig, heard the sound of distant cannonading coming

faintly over the water. All sail was crowded upon the brig, and she

made all possible speed to the scene of conflict. About nightfall, she

fell in with four American schooners that had just been having a

tussle with two heavy British transports. Three of the American

vessels were privateers, the fourth was the little cruiser "Lee" in

which Capt. John Manly had done such brilliant service. The four

schooners had found the transports too powerful for them, and had

therefore drawn off, but were eager to renew the fray with the help of

the "Defence." Accordingly the "Defence" led the way to Nantasket

Roads, where the transports lay at anchor. Capt. Harding wasted little

time in manoeuvring, but, laying his vessel alongside the larger of

the two transports, summoned her commander to strike.

"Ay, ay--I'll strike," was the response from the threatened vessel;

and instantly a heavy broadside was poured into the "Defence." A sharp

action followed, lasting for nearly an hour. The "Defence" bore the

brunt of the conflict, for the four schooners did not come to

sufficiently close quarters to be of much assistance against the

enemy. The gunnery of the Americans proved too much for the enemy,

however; and after losing eighteen men, together with a large number

wounded, the British surrendered. The American vessel was a good deal

cut up aloft, and lost nine of her men. The next morning a third

transport was sighted by the "Defence," and speedily overhauled and

captured. More than five hundred British soldiers were thus captured;

and the British thenceforward dared not treat the Americans as rebels,

lest the colonial army authorities should retaliate upon the British

prisoners in their hands.

It was in the year 1776 that the first naval vessel giving allegiance

to the American Colonies showed herself in European waters. This

vessel was the "Reprisal," Capt. Wickes, a small craft, mounting

sixteen guns. Early in the summer of '76, the "Reprisal" made a cruise

to Martinique, taking several prizes. When near the island, she

encountered the British sloop-of-war "Shark," and a sharp battle

ensued. In size and weight of metal, the two vessels were about evenly

matched; but the "Reprisal" had been sending out so many prize-crews,

that she was short eighty men of her full crew. Therefore, when, after

a brisk interchange of broadsides, the British sloop sheered off, and

left the "Reprisal" to continue her course, Capt. Wickes rejoiced in

his escape as being almost equal to a victory.

After completing this cruise, the "Reprisal" was ordered to France for

the purpose of conveying thither from Philadelphia Benjamin Franklin,

the ambassador sent from the Colonies to interest the French in the

cause of American liberty. While on the way over, she took two or

three prizes, which were sold in France. After landing her

distinguished passenger, she cruised about in the proverbially

tempestuous Bay of Biscay, where she forced several British vessels to

strike to the American flag, then first seen in those waters. On

returning to France to sell his newly captured prizes, Capt. Wickes

found trouble in store for him. The British ambassador at Paris had

declared that the American cruiser was a detestable pirate; and that

for France to permit the pirate to anchor in her harbors, or sell his

prizes in her markets, was equal to a declaration of war against

England. Wickes was, therefore, admonished to take his ships and

prisoners away. But even in that early day Yankee wit was sharp, and

able to extricate its possessor from troublesome scrapes. Wickes knew

that there were plenty of purchasers to be had for his prizes: so,

gathering a few ship-owners together, he took them out to sea beyond

the jurisdiction of France, and there sold them to the highest bidder.

The money thus obtained Wickes used in purchasing vessels suitable for

armed cruisers. While these were fitting out, the "Lexington" and the

"Dolphin" arrived in France, and soon joined the "Reprisal" in a

cruise around the British Islands. The little squadron fairly swept

the Channel and the Irish Sea of merchantmen. The excitement in

England ran high, and the admiralty despatched all the available

men-of-war in search of the marauders. But the swift-sailing cruisers

escaped all pursuers. Once indeed the "Reprisal" came near falling

into the hands of the enemy, but escaped by throwing overboard every

thing movable, sawing away her bulwarks, and even cutting away her

heavy timbers.

The result of this cruise so aroused England, that France no longer

dared to harbor the audacious Yankee cruisers. The "Lexington" and

"Reprisal" were, therefore, ordered to leave European waters

forthwith. The "Lexington" complied first, and when one day out from

the port of Morlaix encountered the British man-of-war cutter "Alert."

The "Alert" was the smaller of the two vessels, but her commander had

in him all that pluck and those sterling seamanlike qualities that

made the name of England great upon the ocean. A stiff breeze was

blowing, and a heavy cross sea running, when the two vessels came

together. The gunners sighted their pieces at random and fired,

knowing little whether the shot would go plunging into the waves, or

fly high into the air. As a result, they carried on a spirited

cannonade for upwards of two hours, with the sole effect of carrying

away the top hamper of the "Alert," and exhausting most of the powder

on the American craft.

Finding his ammunition rapidly giving out, the captain of the

"Lexington" clapped on all sail, and soon showed his crippled

antagonist a clean pair of heels. But so great was the activity of

the crew of the "Alert" that they repaired the damage done aloft, and

in four hours overtook the "American," and opened fire upon her The

battle now became one-sided; for the "Lexington," being short of

powder, could make little resistance to the brisk attack of her

persevering adversary. In less than an hour she was forced to strike

her flag.

The fate of the "Reprisal" was even harder than that of her consort.

While crossing the Atlantic on her way back to the coast of America,

she was overtaken by a furious gale. With furled sails and battened

hatches, the little craft made a desperate fight for life. But the

fierce wind carried away her masts and spars, and the tossing waves

opened her seams, so that it became apparent to all on board that the

fate of the gallant craft, that had so nobly defended the cause of

American liberty, was sealed. As the water rose higher and higher in

the hold, the officers saw that it was no longer a question of the

possibility of saving the ship, but that their lives and those of the

crew were in the greatest danger. Boats were lowered; but the angry

white-capped waves tossed them madly aloft, and, turning them over and

over, sent the poor fellows that manned them to their long account.

All hands then set to work at the construction of a huge raft; and

just as the ship's stern settled, it was pushed off, and all that

could reach it clambered on. A few poor fellows clung to the sinking

ship; and their comrades on the raft saw them crowd on the forecastle,

and heard their despairing cries as the good ship threw her prow high

in the air, and sunk stern foremost to the placid depths of the stormy

ocean. But those on the raft were not destined to escape the fate of

their comrades. The haggard sufferers were doomed to see the frail

structure on which their lives depended go slowly to pieces before the

mighty power of the remorseless sea. Bit by bit their foothold

vanished from beneath them. One by one they were swept off into the

seething cauldron of the storm. At last but one man remained, the cook

of the ill-fated vessel, who floated about for three days on a piece

of wreckage, until, half-starved and nearly crazed, he was picked up

by a passing vessel, and told the tale of the wreck. So ended the

career of the patriotic and gallant Capt. Wickes and his crew, and

such is the fate that every stout fellow braves when he dons his blue

jacket and goes to serve his country on the ocean.

In addition to the exploits of the American cruisers upon the high

seas, certain operations of the British navy along the American coast,

during the year 1776, demand attention. Of these the most important

was the attack by Sir Peter Parker upon Charleston, in September of

that year,--an attack made memorable by the determined courage of the

Americans, the daring exploit of Sergt. Jasper, and the discovery of

the remarkable qualities of palmetto logs as a material for

fortifications.

Charleston was then a town of but a few thousand inhabitants; but,

small as it was, it had become particularly obnoxious to the British

on account of the strong revolutionary sentiment of its people, and

their many open acts of defiance of King George's authority. When the

offensive Stamp Act first was published, the people of Charleston rose

in revolt; and the stamps for the city being stored in an armed

fortress in the bay, known as Castle Johnson, a party of a hundred and

fifty armed men went down the bay, surprised the garrison, captured

the castle, and, loading its guns, defied the authorities. Not until

the promise had been made that the stamps should be sent back to

England, did the rebellious Carolinians lay down their arms. Nor was

their peace of long duration. When the news of the battle of Lexington

reached the little Southern seaport, the people straightway cast about

for an opportunity to strike a blow against the tyranny of England.

The opportunity soon offered itself. An English sloop laden with

powder was lying at St. Augustine, Fla. Learning this, the people of

Charleston fitted out a vessel, which captured the powder-ship, and,

eluding a number of British cruisers, returned safely to Charleston

with fifteen thousand pounds of gunpowder for the colonial army. Soon

after the colonial troops took possession of the forts in the harbor,

and Charleston became a revolutionary stronghold.

Therefore, when the war authorities of Great Britain prepared to take

active, offensive measures against the seaport cities of the

rebellious colonies, Charleston was one of the first points chosen for

attack. It was on the 4th of June, 1776, that the British fleet, under

the command of the veteran admiral, Sir Peter Parker, appeared off

Charleston bar. The colonists had learned of its approach some time

before; and the town was crowded with troops, both regular and

volunteer. Two forts, Johnson and Sullivan, were erected at points

commanding the entrance to the harbor. Troops were thrown out to

oppose the advance of landing parties. The wharves were covered with

breastworks, and the streets leading up from the water-side were

barricaded. There was a great scarceness of lead for bullets; and to

supply that need the leaden sashes, in which window-panes were at that

time set, were melted down. When the fleet of the enemy appeared in

the offing, Charleston was quite ready to give the invaders a warm

reception.

Fort Sullivan was the chief work in the harbor, and against this

Parker began a vigorous cannonade early on the morning of the 28th of

June. The fort had been built of logs of palmetto wood, and was looked

upon with some distrust by its defenders, who did not know how well

that material could withstand cannon-shot; but the opening volley of

the fleet re-assured them. The balls penetrated deep in the soft,

spongy wood without detaching any of the splinters, which, in a

battle, are more dangerous than the shot themselves. The fort soon

replied to the fire of the fleet; and the thunder of three hundred

cannon rang out over the bay, while dense clouds of sulphurous smoke

hid the scene from the eager gaze of the crowds of people on the

housetops of the city.

When the stately ships of the British squadron swung into line before

the little wooden fort, there was hardly a sailor who did not take his

station without a feeling of contempt for the insignificant obstacle

that they were about to sweep from their path. But as the day wore on,

and the ceaseless cannonade seemed to have no effect on the bastions

of the fort, the case began to look serious.

"Mind the commodore, and the fifty-gun ships," was the command

Moultrie gave to the gunners in the fort when the action commenced,

and right well did they heed the injunction. The quarter-decks of the

ships-of-the-line were swept clean of officers. The gunners in the

fort soon found that the fire of the enemy was doing little or no

execution, and they sighted their guns as coolly as though out for a

day's target practice. The huge iron balls crashed through the hulls

of the ships, or swept their decks, doing terrific execution. The

cable of the "Bristol" was shot away, and she swung round with her

stern to the fort. In this position she was raked repeatedly; her

captain was killed, and at one time not an officer remained on her

quarter-deck except the admiral Sir Peter Parker. When the conflict

ceased, this ship alone contained forty killed and seventy-one wounded

men. The other ships suffered nearly as severely. The twenty-eight-gun

ship "Actaeon" grounded during the course of the engagement; and when,

after ten hours' fruitless cannonading, the British abandoned the task

of reducing the fort, and determined to withdraw, she was found to be

immovable. Accordingly Admiral Parker signalled to her officer to

abandon the ship, and set her on fire. This was accordingly done; and

the ship was left with her colors flying, and her guns loaded. This

movement was observed by the Americans, who, in spite of the danger of

an explosion, boarded the ship, fired her guns at the "Bristol,"

loaded three boats with stores, and pulled away, leaving the "Actaeon"

to blow up, which she did half an hour later.

While the battle was at its hottest, and the shot and shell were

flying thick over the fort, the flagstaff was shot away; and the flag

of South Carolina, a blue ground, bearing a silver crescent, fell on

the beach outside the parapet. Sergt. William Jasper, seeing this,

leaped on the bastion, walked calmly through the storm of flying

missiles, picked up the flag, and fastened it upon a sponge-staff.

Then standing upon the highest point of the parapet, in full view of

the ships and the men in the fort, he calmly fixed the staff upright,

and returned to his place, leaving the flag proudly waving. The next

day the governor of the colony visited the fort, and seeking out the

brave sergeant, handed him a handsome sword and a lieutenant's

commission. But Jasper proved to be as modest as he was brave; for he

declined the proffered promotion, with the remark,--

"I am not fit to keep officers' company; I am but a sergeant."

The complete failure of the attack upon Charleston was a bitter pill

for the English to swallow. They had brought against the raw,

untrained forces of the colony some of the finest ships of the boasted

navy of Great Britain. They had fought well and pluckily. The fact

that Sir Peter Parker was in command was in itself a guaranty that the

attack would be a spirited one; and the tremendous loss of life in the

fleet affords convincing proof that no poltroonery lurked among the

British sailors. The loss of the British during the engagement, in

killed and wounded, amounted to two hundred and twenty-five men. The

Americans had ten men killed and twenty-two wounded. Moultrie, the

commandant of the fort, says that after the battle was over they

picked up more than twelve hundred solid shot of different sizes, and

many thirteen-inch shells. Most of the shells that fell within the

fort fell into a large pool of water, which extinguished their fuses,

thus robbing them of their power for evil.

In his report of this battle, Admiral Parker fell into a queer error.

He reports that a large party of men entering the fort met a man going

out, whom they straightway hanged to a neighboring tree, in full view

of the fleet. From this the admiral concluded that there was an

incipient mutiny in the fort, and the ringleader was hanged as an

example. Col. Moultrie, however, explained this by stating that the

man hanging in the tree was simply the coat of a soldier, which had

been carried away by a cannon-shot, and left hanging in the branches.

CHAPTER VI.

THE CAREER OF PAUL JONES. -- IN COMMAND OF THE "PROVIDENCE."

-- CAPTURE OF THE "MELLISH." -- EXPLOITS WITH THE "ALFRED."

-- IN COMMAND OF THE "RANGER." -- SWEEPING THE ENGLISH

CHANNEL. -- THE DESCENT UPON WHITEHAVEN.

We have already spoken of the farcical affair between the fleet under

Ezekiel Hopkins and the English frigate "Glasgow," in which the

English vessel, by superior seamanship, and taking advantage of the

blunders of the Americans, escaped capture. The primary result of this

battle was to cause the dismissal from the service of Hopkins. But his

dismissal led to the advancement of a young naval officer, whose name

became one of the most glorious in American naval annals, and whose

fame as a skilful seaman has not been tarnished by the hand of time.

[Illustration: Captain John Paul Jones Quelling The Mob At White

Haven, Scotland, Nov., 1777.]

At the time of the escape of the "Glasgow," there was serving upon the

"Alfred" a young lieutenant, by name John Paul Jones. Jones was a

Scotchman. His rightful name was John Paul; but for some reason, never

fully understood, he had assumed the surname of Jones, and his record

under the name of Paul Jones forms one of the most glorious chapters

of American naval history. When given a lieutenant's commission in the

colonial navy, Jones was twenty-nine years old. From the day when a

lad of thirteen years he shipped for his first voyage, he had spent

his life on the ocean. He had served on peaceful merchantmen, and

in the less peaceful, but at that time equally respectable,

slave-trade. A small inheritance had enabled him to assume the station

of a Virginia gentleman; and he had become warmly attached to American

ideas and principles, and at the outbreak of the Revolution put his

services at the command of Congress. He was first offered a captain's

commission with the command of the "Providence," mounting twelve guns

and carrying one hundred men. But with extraordinary modesty the young

sailor declined, saying that he hardly felt himself fitted to

discharge the duties of a first lieutenant. The lieutenant's

commission, however, he accepted; and it was in this station that with

his own hands he hoisted the first American flag to the masthead of

the "Alfred."

The wretched fiasco which attended the attack of the American fleet

upon the "Glasgow" was greatly deplored by Jones. However, he

refrained from any criticism upon his superiors, and sincerely

regretted the finding of the court of inquiry, by which the captain of

the "Providence" was dismissed the service, and Lieut. Paul Jones

recommended to fill the vacancy.

The duties which devolved upon Capt. Jones were manifold and arduous.

The ocean was swarming with powerful British men-of-war, which in his

little craft he must avoid, while keeping a sharp outlook for foemen

with whom he was equally matched. More than once, from the masthead of

the "Providence," the lookout could discover white sails of one or

more vessels, any one of which, with a single broadside, could have

sent the audacious Yankee to the bottom. But luckily the "Providence"

was a fast sailer, and wonderfully obedient to her helm. To her good

sailing qualities, and to his own admirable seamanship, Jones owed

more than one fortunate escape. Once, when almost overtaken by a

powerful man-of-war, he edged away until he brought his pursuer on his

weather quarter; then, putting his helm up suddenly, he stood dead

before the wind, thus doubling on his course, and running past his

adversary within pistol-shot of her guns, but in a course directly

opposite to that upon which she was standing. The heavy war-ship went

plunging ahead like a heavy hound eluded by the agile fox, and the

Yankee proceeded safely on her course.

Some days later the "Providence" was lying to on the great banks near

the Isle of Sables. It was a holiday for the crew; for no sails were

in sight, and Capt. Jones had indulgently allowed them to get out

their cod-lines and enjoy an afternoon's fishing. In the midst of

their sport, as they were hauling in the finny monsters right merrily,

the hail of the lookout warned them that a strange sail was in sight.

The stranger drew rapidly nearer, and was soon made out to be a war

vessel. Jones, finding after a short trial that his light craft could

easily outstrip the lumbering man-of-war, managed to keep just out of

reach. Now and then the pursuer would luff up and let fly a broadside;

the shot skipping along over the waves, but sinking before they

reached the "Providence." Jones, who had an element of humor in his

character, responded to this cannonade with one musket, which, with

great solemnity, was discharged in response to each broadside. After

keeping up this burlesque battle for some hours, the "Providence"

spread her sails, and soon left her foe hull down beneath the horizon.

After having thus eluded his pursuer, Jones skirted the coast of Cape

Breton, and put into the harbor of Canso, where he found three British

fishing schooners lying at anchor. The inhabitants of the little

fishing village were electrified to see the "Providence" cast anchor

in the harbor, and, lowering her boats, send two crews of armed

sailors to seize the British craft. No resistance was made, however;

and the Americans burned one schooner, scuttled a second, and after

filling the third with fish, taken from the other two, took her out of

the harbor with the "Providence" leading the way.

From the crew of the captured vessel, Jones learned that at the Island

of Madame, not far from Canso, there was a considerable flotilla of

British merchantmen. Accordingly he proceeded thither with the

intention of destroying them. On arriving, he found the harbor too

shallow to admit the "Providence;" and accordingly taking up a

position from which he could, with his cannon, command the harbor, he

despatched armed boats' crews to attack the shipping. On entering the

harbor, the Americans found nine British vessels lying at anchor.

Ships and brigs, as well as small fishing schooners, were in the

fleet. It was a rich prize for the Americans, and it was won without

bloodshed; for the peaceful fishermen offered no resistance to the

Yankees, and looked upon the capture of their vessels with amazement.

The condition of these poor men, thus left on a bleak coast with no

means of escape, appealed strongly to Jones's humanity. He therefore

told them, that, if they would assist him in making ready for sea such

of the prizes as he wished to take with him, he would leave them

vessels enough to carry them back to England. The fishermen heartily

agreed to the proposition, and worked faithfully for several days at

the task of fitting out the captured vessels. The night before the day

on which Jones had intended leaving the harbor, the wind came on to

blow, and a violent storm of wind and rain set in. Even the usually

calm surface of the little harbor was lashed to fury by the shrieking

wind. The schooner "Sea-Flower"--one of the captured prizes--was torn

from her moorings; and though her crew got out the sweeps, and

struggled valiantly for headway against the driving storm, she drifted

on shore, and lay there a total wreck. The schooner "Ebenezer," which

Jones had brought from Canso laden with fish, drifted on a sunken

reef, and was there so battered by the roaring waves that she went to

pieces. Her crew, after vainly striving to launch the boats, built a

raft, and saved themselves on that.

The next day the storm abated; and Capt. Jones, taking with him three

heavily laden prizes, left the harbor, and turned his ship's prow

homeward. The voyage to Newport, then the headquarters of the little

navy, was made without other incident than the futile chase of three

British ships, which ran into the harbor of Louisbourg. On his

arrival, Jones reported that he had been cruising for forty-seven

days, and in that time had captured sixteen prizes, beside the

fishing-vessels he burned at Cape Breton. Eight of his prizes he had

manned, and sent into port; the remainder he had burned. It was the

first effective blow the colonists had yet struck at their powerful

foe upon the ocean.

Hardly had Paul Jones completed this first cruise, when his mind, ever

active in the service of his country, suggested to him a new

enterprise in which he might contribute to the cause of American

liberty. At this early period of the Revolution, the British were

treating American prisoners with almost inconceivable barbarity. Many

were sent to the "Old Jersey" prison-ship, of whose horrors we shall

read something later on. Others, to the number of about a hundred,

were taken to Cape Breton, and forced to labor like Russian felons in

the underground coal-mines. Jones's plan was bold in its conception,

but needed only energy and promptitude to make it perfectly feasible.

He besought the authorities to give him command of a squadron, that he

might move on Cape Breton, destroy the British coal and fishing

vessels always congregated there, and liberate the hapless Americans

who were passing their lives in the dark misery of underground mining.

His plan was received with favor, but the authorities lacked the means

to give him the proper aid. However, two vessels, the "Alfred" and the

"Providence," were assigned to him; and he went speedily to work to

prepare for the adventure. At the outset, he was handicapped by lack

of men. The privateers were then fitting out in every port; and seamen

saw in privateering easier service, milder discipline, and greater

profits than they could hope for in the regular navy. When, by hard

work, the muster-roll of the "Alfred" showed her full complement of

men shipped, the stormy month of November had arrived, and the golden

hour for success was past.

Nevertheless, Jones, taking command of the "Alfred," and putting the

"Providence" in the command of Capt. Hacker, left Newport, and laid

his course to the northward. When he arrived off the entrance to the

harbor of Louisbourg, he was so lucky as to encounter an English brig,

the "Mellish," which, after a short resistance, struck her flag. She

proved to be laden with heavy warm clothing for the British troops in

Canada. This capture was a piece of great good fortune for the

Americans, and many a poor fellow in Washington's army that winter had

cause to bless Paul Jones for his activity and success.

The day succeeding the capture of the "Mellish" dawned gray and

cheerless. Light flurries of snow swept across the waves, and by noon

a heavy snowstorm, driven by a violent north-east gale, darkened the

air, and lashed the waves into fury. Jones stood dauntless at his post

on deck, encouraging the sailors by cheery words, and keeping the

sturdy little vessel on her course. All day and night the storm

roared; and when, the next morning, Jones, wearied by his ceaseless

vigilance, looked anxiously across the waters for his consort, she was

not to be seen. The people on the "Alfred" supposed, of course, that

the "Providence" was lost, with all on board, and mourned the sad fate

of their comrades. But, in fact, Capt. Hacker, affrighted by the

storm, had basely deserted his leader during the night, and made off

for Newport, leaving Jones to prosecute his enterprise alone.

Jones recognized in this desertion the knell of the enterprise upon

which he had embarked. Nevertheless, he disdained to return to port:

so sending the "Mellish" and a second prize, which the British

afterwards recaptured, back to Massachusetts, he continued his cruise

along the Nova Scotia coast. Again he sought out the harbor of Canso,

and, entering it, found a large English transport laden with

provisions aground just inside the bar. Boats' crews from the "Alfred"

soon set the torch to the stranded ship, and then, landing, fired a

huge warehouse filled with whale-oil and the products of the

fisheries. Leaving the blazing pile behind, the "Alfred" put out again

into the stormy sea, and made for the northward.

As he approached Louisbourg, Jones fell in with a considerable fleet

of British coal-vessels, in convoy of the frigate "Flora." A heavy fog

hung over the ocean; and the fleet Yankee, flying here and there, was

able to cut out and capture three of the vessels without alarming the

frigate, that continued unsuspectingly on her course. Two days later,

Jones snapped up a Liverpool privateer, that fired scarcely a single

gun in resistance. Then crowded with prisoners, embarrassed by prizes,

and short of food and water, the "Alfred" turned her course homeward.

Five valuable prizes sailed in her wake. Anxiety for the safety of

these gave Jones no rest by day or night. He was ceaselessly on the

watch lest some hostile man-of-war should overhaul his fleet, and

force him to abandon his hard-won fruits of victory. All went well

until, when off St. George's Bank, he encountered the frigate

"Milford,"--the same craft to whose cannon-balls Jones, but a few

months before, had tauntingly responded with musket-shots.

It was late in the afternoon when the "Milford" was sighted; and

Jones, seeing that she could by no possibility overtake his squadron

before night, ordered his prizes to continue their course without

regard to any lights or apparent signals from the "Alfred." When

darkness fell upon the sea, the Yankees were scudding along on the

starboard tack, with the Englishman coming bravely up astern. From the

tops of the "Alfred" swung two burning lanterns, which the enemy

doubtless pronounced a bit of beastly stupidity on the part of the

Yankee, affording, as it did, an excellent guide for the pursuer to

steer by. But during the night the wily Jones changed his course. The

prizes, with the exception of the captured privateer, continued on

the starboard tack. The "Alfred" and the privateer made off on the

port tack, with the "Milford" in full cry in their wake. Not until the

morning dawned did the Englishman discover how he had been tricked.

Having thus secured the safety of his prizes, it only remained for

Jones to escape with the privateer. Unluckily, however, the officer

put in charge of the privateer proved incapable, and his craft fell

into hands of the British. Jones, however, safely carried the "Alfred"

clear of the "Milford's" guns, and, a heavy storm coming up, soon

eluded his foe in the snow and darkness. Thereupon he shaped his

course for Boston, where he arrived on the 5th of December, 1776. Had

he been delayed two days longer, both his provisions and his water

would have been exhausted.

For the ensuing six months Jones remained on shore, not by any means

inactive, for his brain was teeming with great projects for his

country's service. He had been deprived of the command of the

"Alfred," and another ship was not easily to be found: so he turned

his attention to questions of naval organization, and the results of

many of his suggestions are observable in the United States navy

to-day. It was not until June 14, 1777, that a command was found for

him. This was the eighteen-gun ship "Ranger," built to carry a

frigate's battery of twenty-six guns. She had been built for the

revolutionary government, at Portsmouth, and was a stanch-built, solid

craft, though miserably slow and somewhat crank. Jones, though

disappointed with the sailing qualities of the craft, was nevertheless

vastly delighted to be again in command of a man-of-war, and wasted no

time in getting her ready for sea.

It so happened, that, on the very day Paul Jones received his

commission as commander of the "Ranger," the Continental Congress

adopted the Stars and Stripes for the national flag. Jones,

anticipating this action, had prepared a flag in accordance with the

proposed designs, and, upon hearing of the action of Congress, had it

run to the masthead, while the cannon of the "Ranger" thundered out

their deep-mouthed greetings to the starry banner destined to wave

over the most glorious nation of the earth. Thus it happened that the

same hand that had given the pine-tree banner to the winds was the

first to fling out to the breezes the bright folds of the Stars and

Stripes.

Early in October the "Ranger" left Portsmouth, and made for the coast

of France. Astute agents of the Americans in that country were having

a fleet, powerful frigate built there for Jones, which he was to take,

leaving the sluggish "Ranger" to be sold. But, on his arrival at

Nantes, Jones was grievously disappointed to learn that the British

Government had so vigorously protested against the building of a

vessel-of-war in France for the Americans, that the French Government

had been obliged to notify the American agents that their plan must be

abandoned. France was at this time at peace with Great Britain, and,

though inclined to be friendly with the rebellious colonies, was not

ready to entirely abandon her position as a neutral power. Later, when

she took up arms against England, she gave the Americans every right

in her ports they could desire.

Jones thus found himself in European waters with a vessel too weak to

stand against the frigates England could send to take her, and too

slow to elude them. But he determined to strike some effective blows

for the cause of liberty. Accordingly he planned an enterprise, which,

for audacity of conception and dash in execution, has never been

equalled by any naval expedition since.

This was nothing less than a virtual invasion of England. The "Ranger"

lay at Brest. Jones planned to dash across the English Channel, and

cruise along the coast of England, burning shipping and towns, as a

piece of retaliation upon the British for their wanton outrages along

the American coast. It was a bold plan. The channel was thronged with

the heavy frigates of Great Britain, any one of which could have

annihilated the audacious Yankee cruiser. Nevertheless, Jones

determined to brave the danger.

At the outset, it seemed as though his purpose was to be balked by

heavy weather. For days after the "Ranger" left Brest, she battled

against the chop-seas of the English Channel. The sky was dark, and

the light of the sun obscured by gray clouds. The wind whistled

through the rigging, and tore at the tightly furled sails. Great green

walls of water, capped with snowy foam, beat thunderously against the

sides of the "Ranger." Now and then a port would be driven in, and the

men between decks drenched by the incoming deluge. The "Ranger" had

encountered an equinoctial gale in its worst form.

When the gale died away, Jones found himself off the Scilly Islands,

in full view of the coast of England. Here he encountered a

merchantman, which he took and scuttled, sending the crew ashore to

spread the news that an American man-of-war was ravaging the channel.

Having alarmed all England, he changed his hunting-ground to St.

George's Channel and the Irish Sea, where he captured several ships;

sending one, a prize, back to Brest. He was in waters with which he

had been familiar from his youth, and he made good use of his

knowledge; dashing here and there, lying in wait in the highway of

commerce, and then secreting himself in some sequestered cove while

the enemy's ship-of-war went by in fruitless search for the marauder.

All England was aroused by the exploits of the Yankee cruiser. Never

since the days of the Invincible Armada had war been so brought home

to the people of the tight little island. Long had the British

boastfully claimed the title of monarch of the seas. Long had they

sung the vainglorious song,--

"Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,

Her home is on the deep."

But Paul Jones showed Great Britain that her boasted power was a

bubble. He ravaged the seas within cannon-shot of English headlands.

He captured and burned merchantmen, drove the rates of insurance up to

panic prices, paralyzed British shipping-trade, and even made small

incursions into British territory.

The reports that reached Jones of British barbarity along the American

coast, of the burning of Falmouth, of tribute levied on innumerable

seaport towns,--all aroused in him a determination to strike a

retaliatory blow. Whitehaven, a small seaport, was the spot chosen by

him for attack; and he brought his ship to off the mouth of the harbor

late one night, intending to send in a boat's crew to fire the

shipping. But so strong a wind sprung up, as to threaten to drive the

ship ashore; and Jones was forced to make sail, and get an offing. A

second attempt, made upon a small harbor called Lochryan, on the

western coast of Scotland, was defeated by a like cause.

But the expedition against Lochryan, though in itself futile, was the

means of giving Jones an opportunity to show his merits as a fighter.

Soon after leaving Lochryan, he entered the bay of Carrichfergus, on

which is situated the Irish commercial city of Belfast. The bay was

constantly filled with merchantmen; and the "Ranger," with her ports

closed, and her warlike character carefully disguised, excited no

suspicion aboard a trim, heavy-built craft that lay at anchor a little

farther up the bay. This craft was the British man-of-war "Drake,"

mounting twenty guns. Soon after his arrival in the bay, Jones learned

the character of the "Drake," and determined to attempt her capture

during the night. Accordingly he dropped anchor near by, and, while

carefully concealing the character of his craft, made every

preparation for a midnight fight. The men sat between decks,

sharpening cutlasses, and cleaning and priming their pistols; the

cannon were loaded with grape, and depressed for work at close

quarters; battle lanterns were hung in place, ready to be lighted at

the signal for action.

At ten o'clock, the tramp of men about the capstan gave notice that

the anchor was being brought to the catheads. Soon the creaking of

cordage, and the snapping of the sails, told that the fresh breeze was

being caught by the spreading sails. Then the waves rippled about the

bow of the ship, and the "Ranger" was fairly under way.

It was a pitch-dark night, but the lights on board the "Drake" showed

where she was lying. On the "Ranger" all lights were extinguished, and

no noise told of her progress towards her enemy. It was the captain's

plan to run his vessel across the "Drake's" cable, drop his own

anchor, let the "Ranger" swing alongside the Englishman, and then

fight it out at close quarters. But this plan, though well laid,

failed of execution. The anchor was not let fall in season; and the

"Ranger," instead of bringing up alongside her enemy, came to anchor

half a cable-length astern. The swift-flowing tide and the fresh

breeze made it impossible to warp the ship alongside: so Jones ordered

the cable cut, and the "Ranger" scudded down the bay before the

ever-freshening gale. It does not appear that the people on the

"Drake" were aware of the danger they so narrowly escaped.

The wind that had aided the tide in defeating Jones's enterprise blew

stronger and stronger, and before morning the sea was tossing before a

regular north-east gale. Against it the "Ranger" could make no

headway: so Jones gave his ship her head, and scudded before the wind

until within the vicinity of Whitehaven, when he determined to again

attempt to destroy the shipping in that port. This time he was

successful. Bringing the "Ranger" to anchor near the bar, Capt. Jones

called for volunteers to accompany him on the expedition. He himself

was to be their leader; for as a boy he had often sailed in and out of

the little harbor, knew where the forts stood, and where the colliers

anchored most thickly. The landing party was divided into two

boat-loads; Jones taking command of one, while Lieut. Wallingford held

the tiller of the other boat. With muffled oars the Americans made for

the shore, the boats' keels grated upon the pebbly shore, and an

instant later the adventurers had scaled the ramparts of the forts,

and had made themselves masters of the garrisons. All was done

quietly. The guns in the fortifications were spiked; and, leaving the

few soldiers on guard gagged and bound, Jones and his followers

hastened down to the wharves to set fire to the shipping.

In the harbor were not less than two hundred and twenty vessels, large

and small. On the north side of the harbor, near the forts, were about

one hundred and fifty vessels. These Jones undertook to destroy. The

others were left to Lieut. Wallingford, with his boat's crew of

fifteen picked men.

When Jones and his followers reached the cluster of merchantmen, they

found their torches so far burned out as to be useless. Failure stared

them in the face then, when success was almost within their grasp.

Jones, however, was not to be balked of his prey. Running his boat

ashore, he hastened to a neighboring house, where he demanded candles.

With these he returned, led his men aboard a large ship from which the

crew fled, and deliberately built a fire in her hold. Lest the fire

should go out, he found a barrel of tar, and threw it upon the flames.

Then with the great ship roaring and crackling, and surrounded by

scores of other vessels in danger from the flames, Jones withdrew,

thinking his work complete.

Many writers have criticised Paul Jones for not having stayed longer

to complete the destruction of the vessels in the harbor. But, with

the gradually brightening day, his position, which was at the best

very dangerous, was becoming desperate. There were one hundred and

fifty vessels in that part of the harbor; the crews averaged ten men

to a vessel: so that nearly fifteen hundred men were opposed to the

plucky little band of Americans. The roar of the fire aroused the

people of the town, and they rushed in crowds to the wharf. In

describing the affair Jones writes, "The inhabitants began to appear

in thousands, and individuals ran hastily toward us. I stood between

them and the ship on fire, with my pistol in my hand, and ordered them

to stand, which they did with some precipitation. The sun was a full

hour's march above the horizon; and, as sleep no longer ruled the

world, it was time to retire. We re-embarked without opposition,

having released a number of prisoners, as our boats could not carry

them. After all my people had embarked, I stood upon the pier for a

considerable space, yet no person advanced. I saw all the eminences

round the town covered with the amazed inhabitants."

As his boat drew away from the blazing shipping, Jones looked

anxiously across the harbor to the spot to which Lieut. Wallingford

had been despatched. But no flames were seen in that quarter; for,

Wallingford's torches having gone out, he had abandoned the

enterprise. And so the Americans, having regained their ship, took

their departure, leaving only one of the enemy's vessels burning. A

most lame and impotent conclusion it was indeed; but, as Jones said,

"What was done is sufficient to show that not all the boasted British

navy is sufficient to protect their own coasts, and that the scenes of

distress which they have occasioned in America may soon be brought

home to their own doors."

CHAPTER VII.

CAREER OF PAUL JONES CONTINUED. -- HIS DESCENT UPON THE

CASTLE OF LORD SELKIRK -- THE AFFAIR OF THE PLATE. -- THE

DESCENT UPON WHITEHAVEN. -- THE BATTLE WITH THE

"DRAKE."-LIEUT. SIMPSON'S PERFIDY.

We now come to the glorious part of the career of Paul Jones upon the

ocean. Heretofore he has been chiefly occupied in the capture of

defenceless merchantmen. His work has been that of the privateer, even

if not of the pirate that the British have always claimed he was. But

the time came when Jones proved that he was ready to fight an

adversary of his mettle; was willing to take heavy blows, and deal

stunning ones in return. His daring was not confined to dashing

expeditions in which the danger was chiefly overcome by spirit and

rapid movements. While this class of operations was ever a favorite

with the doughty seaman, he was not at all averse to the deadly naval

duel.

We shall for a time abandon our account of the general naval incidents

of the Revolution, to follow the career of Paul Jones to the end of

the war. His career is not only the most interesting, but the most

important, feature of the naval operations of that war. He stands out

alone, a grand figure in naval history, as does Decatur in the wars

with the Barbary pirates, or Farragut in the war for the Union. The

war of 1812 affords no such example of single greatness in the navy.

There we find Perry, McDonough, and Porter, all equally great. But in

'76 there was no one to stand beside Paul Jones.

When the "Ranger" left the harbor of Whitehaven, her captain was heavy

hearted. He felt that he had had the opportunity to strike a heavy

blow at the British shipping, but had nevertheless inflicted only a

trifling hurt. Angry with himself for not having better planned the

adventure, and discontented with his lieutenant for not having by

presence of mind prevented the fiasco, he felt that peace of mind

could only be obtained by some deed of successful daring.

He was cruising in seas familiar to him as a sailor. Along the

Scottish shores his boyhood hours had been spent. This knowledge he

sought to turn to account. From the deck of his ship, he could see the

wooded shores of St. Mary's Island, on which were the landed estates

of Lord Selkirk, a British noble, of ancient lineage and political

prominence. On the estate of this nobleman Paul Jones was born, and

there he passed the few years of his life that elapsed before he

forsook the land for his favorite element.

Leaning against the rail on the quarter-deck of the "Ranger," Jones

could see through his spy-glass the turrets and spires of Lord

Selkirk's castle. As he gazed, there occurred to him the idea, that if

he could send a landing party ashore, seize the castle, capture the

peer, and bear him off into captivity, he would not only strike terror

into the hearts of the British, but would give the Americans a

prisoner who would serve as a hostage to secure good treatment for the

hapless Americans who had fallen into the hands of the enemy.

With Jones, the conception of a plan was followed by its swift

execution. Disdaining to wait for nightfall, he chose two boats' crews

of tried and trusty men, and landed. The party started up the broad

and open highway leading to the castle. They had gone but a few rods,

however, when they encountered two countrymen, who stared a moment at

the force of armed men, and then turned in fear to escape.

"Halt!" rang out the clear voice of the leader of the blue-jackets;

and the peasants fell upon their faces in abject terror. Jones

directed that they be brought to him; and he questioned them kindly,

setting their minds at rest, and learning from them much of the castle

and its inmates. Lord Selkirk was away from home. This to Jones was

bitter news. It seemed as though some evil genius was dogging his

footsteps, bringing failure upon his most carefully planned

enterprises. But he was not a man to repine over the inevitable, and

he promptly ordered his men to the right about, and made for the

landing-place again.

But the sailors were not so unselfish in their motives as their

captain. They had come ashore expecting to plunder the castle of the

earl, and they now murmured loudly over the abandonment of the

adventure. They saw the way clear before them. No guards protected the

house. The massive ancestral plate, with which all English landed

families are well provided, was unprotected by bolts or bars. They

felt that, in retreating, they were throwing away a chance to despoil

their enemy, and enrich themselves.

Jones felt the justice of the complaint of the sailors; but only after

a fierce struggle with his personal scruples could he yield the point.

The grounds of the Earl of Selkirk had been his early playground. A

lodge on the vast estate had been his childhood's home. Lady Selkirk

had shown his family many kindnesses. To now come to her house as a

robber and pillager, seemed the blackest ingratitude; but, on the

other hand, he had no right to permit his personal feelings to

interfere with his duty to the crew. The sailors had followed him into

danger many a time, and this was their first opportunity for financial

reward. And, even if it was fair to deny them this chance to make a

little prize-money, it would hardly be safe to sow the seeds of

discontent among the crew while on a cruise in waters infested with

the enemy's ships. With a sigh Jones abandoned his intention of

protecting the property of Lady Selkirk, and ordered his lieutenant to

proceed to the castle, and capture the family plate. Jones himself

returned to the ship, resolved to purchase the spoils at open sale,

and return them to their former owner.

The blue-jackets continued their way up the highway, and, turning

aside where a heavy gate opened into a stately grove, demanded of an

old man who came, wondering, out of the lodge, that he give them

instant admittance. Then, swinging into a trot, they ran along the

winding carriage-drive until they came out on the broad lawn that

extended in front of the castle. Here for the first time they were

seen by the inmates of the castle; and faint screams of fear, and

shouts of astonishment, came from the open windows of the stately

pile. The men-servants came rushing out to discover who the lawless

crowd that so violated the sanctity of an English earl's private park

could be; but their curiosity soon abated when a few stout

blue-jackets, cutlass and pistol in hand, surrounded them, and bade

them keep quiet. The lieutenant, with two stout seamen at his back,

then entered the castle, and sought out the mistress, who received him

with calm courtesy, with a trace of scorn, but with no sign of fear.

Briefly the lieutenant told his errand. The countess gave an order to

a butler, and soon a line of stout footmen entered, bearing the plate.

Heavy salvers engraved with the family arms of Lord Selkirk, quaint

drinking-cups and flagons curiously carved, ewers, goblets, platters,

covers, dishes, teapots, and all kinds of table utensils were there,

all of exquisitely artistic workmanship, and bearing the stamp of

antiquity. When all was ready, the lieutenant called in two of the

sailors from the lawn; and soon the whole party, bearing the captured

treasure, disappeared in the curves of the road.

This incident, simple enough in reality, the novelist Fenimore Cooper

has made the germ of one of his exquisite sea-tales, "The Pilot."

British historians have made of it an example by which to prove the

lawlessness and base ingratitude of Paul Jones. As may readily be

imagined, it stirred up at the time the most intense excitement in

England. Jones became the bugbear of timid people. His name was used

to frighten little children. He was called pirate, traitor,

free-booter, plunderer. It was indeed a most audacious act that he had

committed. Never before or since had the soil of England been trodden

by a hostile foot. Never had a British peer been forced to feel that

his own castle was not safe from the invader. Jones, with his handful

of American tars, had accomplished a feat which had never before been

accomplished, and which no later foeman of England has dared to

repeat. It is little wonder that the British papers described him as a

bloodthirsty desperado.

A few weeks later, the captured plate was put up for sale by the prize

agents. Capt. Jones, though not a rich man, bought it, and returned it

to the countess. Lord Selkirk, in acknowledging its receipt, wrote,--

"And on all occasions, both now and formerly, I have done you the

justice to tell that you made an offer of returning the plate very

soon after your return to Brest; and although you yourself were not

at my house, but remained at the shore with your boat, that you had

your officers and men in such extraordinary good discipline, that your

having given them the strictest orders to behave well,--to do no

injury of any kind, to make no search, but only to bring off what

plate was given them,--that in reality they did exactly as was

ordered; and that not one man offered to stir from his post on the

outside of the house, nor entered the doors, nor said an uncivil word;

that the two officers stayed not one-quarter of an hour in the parlor

and in the butler's pantry while the butler got the plate together,

behaved politely, and asked for nothing but the plate, and instantly

marched their men off in regular order; and that both officers and men

behaved in all respects so well, that it would have done credit to the

best-disciplined troops whatever."

But the British took little notice of the generous reparation made by

Capt. Jones, and continued to hurl abuse and hard names at him.

Jones was vastly disappointed at his failure to capture the person of

Lord Selkirk. The story of the sufferings of his countrymen in British

prisons worked upon his heart, and he longed to take captive a

personage whom he could hold as hostage. But, soon after leaving St.

Mary's Isle, he fell in again with the British man-of-war "Drake;" and

as a result of this encounter he had prisoners enough to exchange for

many hapless Americans languishing in hulks and prisons.

After the wind and tide had defeated the midnight attempt made by

Jones to capture the "Drake," that craft had remained quietly at her

anchorage, little suspecting that the bay of Carrickfergus had held so

dangerous a neighbor. But soon reports of the "Ranger's" depredations

began to reach the ears of the British captain. The news of the

desperate raid upon Whitehaven became known to him. He therefore

determined to leave his snug anchorage, and go in search of the

audacious Yankee. Just as the captain of the "Drake" had reached this

determination, and while he was making sail, the "Ranger" appeared off

the mouth of the harbor.

The "Drake" promptly sent out a boat to examine the strange craft, and

report upon her character. Jones saw her coming, and resolved to throw

her off the scent. Accordingly, by skilful seamanship, he kept the

stern of the "Ranger" continually presented to the prying eyes in the

British boat. Turn which way they might, be as swift in their

manoeuvres as they might, the British scouts could see nothing of the

"Ranger" but her stern, pierced with two cabin windows, as might be

the stern of any merchantman. Her sides, dotted with frowning ports,

were kept securely hidden from their eyes.

Though provided with spy-glasses, the people in the boat were totally

deceived. Unsuspectingly they came up under the stern of the "Ranger,"

and demanded to come on board. As the officer in command clambered up

a rope, and vaulted the taffrail to the quarter-deck, he saw Paul

Jones and his lieutenants, in full uniform, standing before him.

"Why,--why, what ship's this?" stammered the astonished officer.

"This is the American Continental ship 'Ranger,' and you are my

prisoner," responded Jones; and at the words a few sailors, with

cutlasses and pistols, called to the men in the boat alongside, to

come aboard and give themselves up.

From his captives Jones learned that the news of the Whitehaven raid

had reached the "Drake" only the night before; and that she had been

re-enforcing her crew with volunteers, preparatory to going out in

search of the "Ranger." As he stood talking to the captured British

naval officer, Jones noticed slender columns of smoke rising from the

woods on neighboring highlands, where he knew there were no houses.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"Alarm fires, sir," answered the captive; "the news of your descent

upon Whitehaven is terrifying the whole country."

Soon, however, the attention of the Americans was diverted from the

signal-fires to the "Drake." An appearance of life and bustle was

observable about the boat. The shrill notes of the boatswain's

whistle, and the tramp of men about the capstan, came faintly over the

waters. The rigging was full of sailors, and the sails were being

quickly spread to catch the fresh breeze. Soon the ship began to move

slowly from her anchorage; she heeled a little to one side, and,

responsive to her helm, turned down the bay. She was coming out to

look after her lost boat.

Jones determined to hold his ground, and give battle to the

Englishman. He at once began to prepare for battle in every way

possible without alarming the enemy. The great guns were loaded and

primed. Cutlasses and pistols were brought up from the armorer's room,

and placed in convenient locations on the main deck, so that the

boarders might find them when needed. The powder-monkeys, stripped for

action, and the handlers and cartridge-makers entered the

powder-magazine, and prepared to hand out the deadly explosive. The

cook and his assistant strewed sawdust and ashes about the decks, to

catch the blood, and keep the men from slipping. Every one was busy,

from the captain down to the galley-boy.

There was plenty of time to prepare; for the tide was out, and the

"Drake," beating down a narrow channel, made but slow headway. The

delay was a severe strain upon the nerves of the men, who stood silent

and grim at their quarters on the American ship, waiting for the fight

to begin. At such a moment, even the most courageous must lose heart,

as he thinks upon the terrible ordeal through which he must pass.

Visions of home and loved ones flit before his misty eyes; and Jack

chokes down a sob as he hides his emotion in nervously fingering the

lock of his gun, or taking a squint through the port-holes at the

approaching enemy.

At length the "Drake" emerged from the narrow channel of the harbor,

and coming within hailing distance of the "Ranger," ran up the flag of

England, and hailed,--

"What ship is that?"

Paul Jones, himself standing on the taffrail, made answer,--

"This is the American Continental ship 'Ranger.' We are waiting for

you. The sun is but little more than an hour from setting. It is

therefore time to begin."

The "Drake" lay with her bow towards the "Ranger," and a little

astern. As Jones finished speaking, he turned to the man at the wheel,

and said, "Put your helm up. Up, I say!"

Quickly responsive to her helm, the vessel swung round; and, as her

broadside came to bear, she let fly a full broadside of solid shot

into the crowded decks and hull of the "Drake." Through timbers and

planks, flesh and bone, the iron hail rushed, leaving death, wounds,

and destruction in its path. The volunteers that the "Drake" had added

to her crew so crowded the decks, that the execution was fearful. It

seemed as though every shot found a human mark.

But the British were not slow to return the fire, and the roar of

their broadside was heard before the thunder of the American fire had

ceased to reverberate among the hills along the shore.

Then followed a desperate naval duel. The tide of victory flowed now

this way, and now that. Jones kept his ship at close quarters with the

enemy, and stood on the quarter-deck urging on his gunners, now

pointing out some vulnerable spot, now applauding a good shot, at one

time cheering, and at another swearing, watching every movement of his

foe, and giving quick but wise orders to his helmsman, his whole mind

concentrated upon the course of battle, and with never a thought for

his own safety.

For more than an hour the battle raged, but the superior gunnery of

the Americans soon began to tell. The "Drake" fought under no colors,

her ensign having been shot away early in the action. But the spirited

manner in which her guns were worked gave assurance that she had not

struck. The American fire had wrought great execution on the deck of

the Englishman. Her captain was desperately wounded early in the

fight; and the first lieutenant, who took his place, was struck down

by a musket-ball from the "Ranger's" tops. The cock-pit of the "Drake"

was like a butcher's shambles, so bespattered was it with blood. But

on the "Ranger" there was little execution. The brave Wallingford,

Jones's first lieutenant and right-hand man, was killed early in the

action, and one poor fellow accompanied him to his long account; but

beyond this there were no deaths. Six men only were wounded.

The sun was just dipping the lower edge of its great red circle

beneath the watery horizon, when the "Drake" began to show signs of

failing. First her fire slackened. A few guns would go off at a time,

followed by a long silence. That portion of her masts which was

visible above the clouds of gunpowder-smoke showed plainly the results

of American gunnery. The sails were shot to ribbons. The cordage cut

by the flying shot hung loosely down, or was blown out by the breeze.

The spars were shattered, and hung out of place. The main-mast canted

to leeward, and was in imminent danger of falling. The jib had been

shot away entirely, and was trailing in the water alongside the ship.

Gradually the fire of the "Drake" slackened, until at last it had

ceased altogether. Noticing this, Capt. Jones gave orders to cease

firing; and soon silence reigned over the bay that had for an hour

resounded with the thunder of cannon. As the smoke that enveloped the

two ships cleared away, the people on the "Ranger" could see an

officer standing on the rail of the "Drake" waving a white flag. At

the sight a mighty huzza went up from the gallant lads on the Yankee

ship, which was, however, quickly checked by Jones.

"Have you struck your flag?" he shouted through a speaking-trumpet.

"We have, sir," was the response.

"Then lay by until I send a boat aboard," directed Capt. Jones; and

soon after a cutter put off from the side of the "Ranger," and made

for the captured ship.

The boarding-officer clambered over the bulwarks of the "Drake," and,

veteran naval officer as he was, started in amazement at the scene of

bloodshed before him. He had left a ship on which were two dead and

six wounded men. He had come to a ship on which were forty men either

dead or seriously wounded. Two dismounted cannon lay across the deck,

one resting on the shattered and bleeding fragments of a man, torn to

pieces by a heavy shot. The deck was slippery with blood. The cock-pit

was not large enough to hold all the wounded; and many sufferers lay

on the deck crying piteously for aid, and surrounded by the mangled

bodies of their dead comrades. The body of the captain, who had died

of his wound, lay on the deserted quarter-deck.

Hastily the American officer noted the condition of the prize, and

returned to his own ship for aid. All the boats of the "Ranger" were

then lowered, and in the growing darkness the work of taking

possession of the prize began. Most of the prisoners were transferred

to the "Ranger." The dead were thrown overboard without burial service

or ceremony of any kind, such is the grim earnestness of war. Such of

the wounded as could not be taken care of in the sick-bay of the

"Drake" were transferred to the "Ranger." The decks were scrubbed,

holystoned, and sprinkled with hot vinegar to take away the smell of

the blood-soaked planks. Cordage was spliced, sails mended, shot-holes

plugged up; and, by the time morning came, the two ships were

sufficiently repaired to be ready to leave the bay.

But, before leaving, Capt. Jones set at liberty two fishermen, whom he

had captured several days before, and held prisoners lest they should

spread the news of his presence in those parts. While the fishermen

had been taken on board the "Ranger," and treated with the utmost

kindness, their boat had been made fast alongside. Unluckily, however,

the stormy weather had torn the boat from its fastenings; and it

foundered before the eyes of its luckless owners, who bitterly

bewailed their hard fate as they saw their craft disappear. But, when

they came to leave the "Ranger," their sorrow was turned to joy; for

Jones gave them money enough to buy for them a new boat and outfit,--a

bit of liberality very characteristic of the man.

When the "Drake" was in condition to sail, Jones put her in command of

Lieut. Simpson, and the two vessels left the bay. This choice of

commander proved to be an unfortunate one. Simpson was in many ways a

most eccentric officer. He was a violent advocate of equal rights of

all men, and even went so far as to disbelieve in the discipline

without which no efficiency can be obtained on ship-board. He was an

eighteenth-century Sir Joseph Porter. He believed that all questions

of importance on ship-board should be settled by a vote of the crew;

that the captain was, in a certain sense, only perpetual chairman of a

meeting, and should only execute the will of the sailors. Naturally,

this view of an officer's authority was little relished by Lieut.

Simpson's brother officers, and he had for some time been greatly

dissatisfied with his position.

When it came about, therefore, that the "Ranger," seeing a strange

sail in the offing, left the "Drake" to go in pursuit of the stranger,

Lieut. Simpson saw his chance to make off with the "Drake," and thus

rid himself of the disagreeable necessity of submitting to the orders

of a superior officer. This course he determined to adopt; and when

Jones, having overtaken the stranger and found her a neutral, turned

to rejoin his prize, he was vastly astounded at the evolutions of the

"Drake." The vessel which he had left in charge of one of his trusted

officers seemed to be trying to elude him. She was already hull down

on the horizon, and was carrying every stitch of sail. The "Ranger"

signalled to her colleague to return, but in vain. Several large ships

were in sight; but Jones, perplexed by the strange antics of his

consort, abandoned all thoughts of making captures, and made after the

rapidly vanishing "Drake."

As the "Ranger" cut through the ugly cross seas of the channel, Jones

revolved in his mind the causes which might lead to the inexplicable

flight of his consort. His chief fear was that the prisoners on the

"Drake" might have risen, overpowered their captors, and were then

endeavoring to take the ship into a British port. Convinced that this

was the true explanation of the matter, Jones made tremendous efforts

to overhaul the prize before the night should give her an opportunity

to elude pursuit. Every thing from jib-boom to main-truck, that would

draw, was set on the "Ranger;" and the gallant little vessel ploughed

along at a rate that almost belied her reputation as a slow craft.

After an hour's run, it became evident that the "Ranger" was gaining

ground. Nevertheless, darkness settled over the waters, and the

"Drake" was still far in the lead. It was not until the next day that

the runaway was overhauled. Upon boarding the "Drake," Jones found, to

his intense indignation, that not to the revolt of the captives, but

to the wilful and silly insubordination of Lieut. Simpson, the flight

of the captured vessel was due. This officer, feeling himself

aggrieved by something Jones had said or done, had determined to seize

upon the "Drake," repair her in some French port, and thenceforward to

cruise as a privateer. This plan was nipped in the bud by Jones, who

put the disobedient officer in irons, and carried the "Drake" into

Brest as a prize.

All Europe now rang with the praises of Paul Jones. Looked at in the

calm light of history, his achievements do not appear so very

remarkable. But it is none the less true that they have never been

paralleled. Before the day of Paul Jones, no hostile vessel had ever

swept the English Channel and Irish Sea clear of British merchantmen.

And since the day of Paul Jones the exploit has never been repeated,

save by the little American brig "Argus" in the War of 1812. But

neither before nor since the day of Paul Jones has the spectacle of a

British ship in an English port, blazing with fire applied by the

torches of an enemy, been seen. And no other man than Paul Jones has,

for several centuries, led an invading force down the level highways,

and across the green fields, of England.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE CAREER OF PAUL JONES CONTINUED. -- HIS SEARCH FOR A

SHIP. -- GIVEN COMMAND OF THE "BON HOMME RICHARD." --

LANDAIS AND HIS CHARACTER. -- THE FRUSTRATED MUTINY. --

LANDAIS QUARRELS WITH JONES. -- EDINBURGH AND LEITH

THREATENED. -- THE DOMINIE'S PRAYER.

When Paul Jones arrived at Brest, bringing the captured Drake, he

found the situation of affairs materially altered. France had

acknowledged the independence of the American Colonies, and had openly

espoused their cause as against that of Great Britain. It was no

longer necessary to resort to cunning deceptions to buy a war-ship or

sell a prize in a French port. French vessels, manned by French crews

and commanded by French officers, were putting to sea to strike a blow

against the British. French troops were being sent to America. The

stars and stripes waved by the side of the _fleur de lys_; and

Benjamin Franklin, the American envoy, was the lion of French society,

and the idol of the Parisian mob.

Paul Jones saw in this friendship of France for the struggling

colonies his opportunity. Heretofore he had been condemned to command

only slow-going, weak ships. He had been hampered by a lack of funds

for the payment of his crew and the purchase of provisions. More than

once the inability of the impoverished Continental Congress to provide

the sinews of war had forced him to go down into his own purse for the

necessary funds. All this period of penury he now felt was past. He

could rely upon the king of France for a proper vessel, and the funds

with which to prosecute his work on the seas. Accordingly, when the

"Ranger" was again ready for sea, he turned her over to the

insubordinate Lieut. Simpson, while he himself remained in France with

the expectation of being provided with a better ship.

But the sturdy seaman soon found how vexatious is the lot of him who

depends upon the bounty of monarchs. Ship after ship was put in

commission, but no command was tendered to the distinguished American.

The French naval officers had first to be attended to. Jones made

earnest appeals to the minister of the marine. He brought every

possible influence to bear. His claims were urged by Dr. Franklin, but

all to no avail. At last an appointment came. It was to command an

English prize, lately captured and brought into Brest. Thither went

Jones to examine the craft. Much to his disappointment, he found her

very slow; and this determined him to decline the commission.

"I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast,"

he wrote to a gentleman who had secured for him the appointment; "for

I intend to go in harm's way. You know I believe that this is not

every one's intention. Therefore, buy a frigate that sails fast, and

that is sufficiently large to carry twenty-six or twenty-eight guns,

not less than twelve-pounders, on one deck. I would rather be shot

ashore than sent to sea in such things as the armed prizes I have

described."

Five months of waiting and ceaseless solicitation of the authorities

still left the sailor, who had won so many victories, stranded in

shameful inactivity. He had shrunk from a personal interview with the

king, trusting rather to the efforts of his friends, many of whom were

in high favor at Versailles. But one day he happened to light upon an

old copy of "Poor Richard's Almanac," that unique publication in which

Benjamin Franklin printed so many wise maxims and witty sayings. As

Jones listlessly turned its pages, his eye fell upon the maxim,--

"If you wish to have any business done faithfully and expeditiously,

go and do it yourself. Otherwise, send some one."

Shutting the book, and dashing it to the floor, Jones sprang to his

feet exclaiming, "I will go to Versailles this very day." Before night

he set out, and soon reached the royal court. His reputation easily

gained him an interview; and his frank, self-reliant way so impressed

the monarch, that in five days the American was tendered the command

of the ship "Daras," mounting forty guns.

Great was the exultation of the American seaman at this happy

termination of his labor. Full of gratitude to the distinguished

philosopher whose advice had proved so effective, he wrote to the

minister of marine, begging permission to change the name of the

vessel to the "Poor Richard," or, translated into French, the "Bon

Homme Richard." Permission was readily granted; and thereafter the

"Bon Homme Richard," with Paul Jones on the quarter-deck, did valiant

work for the cause of the young American Republic.

The "Bon Homme Richard" was lying in the harbor of L'Orient when Jones

visited her to examine his new ship. He found her a fairly well

modelled craft, giving promise of being a good sailer. She had one of

the high pitched poops that were so common in the early part of the

last century, and that gave to the sterns of ships of that period the

appearance of lofty towers. Originally she was a single-decked ship,

mounting her battery on one gun-deck, with the exception of a few

cannon on the quarter-deck and forecastle. The gun-deck mounted

twenty-eight guns, all twelve-pounders. On the quarter-deck and

forecastle were eight long nines. To this armament Jones at once added

six eighteen-pounders, which were mounted in the gun-room below.

To man this vessel, Jones was obliged to recruit a most motley crew.

Few American seamen were then in France, and he considered himself

fortunate to find enough to fill the stations of officers on the

quarter-deck and forward. For his crew proper he was forced to accept

an undisciplined crowd of Portuguese, Norwegians, Germans, Spaniards,

Swedes, Italians, Malays, Scotch, Irish, and even a few Englishmen.

About a hundred and thirty-five marines were put aboard to keep order

among this rabble; and, even with this aid to discipline, it is

wonderful that no disturbance ever broke out in a crew that was made

up of so many discordant elements.

While the "Bon Homme Richard" was being made ready for sea, the

vessels that were to sail with her as consorts were making for the

rendezvous at L'Orient. These vessels were the "Pallas," "Cerf,"

"Vengeance," and "Alliance." The three former were small vessels,

built in France, and manned wholly by Frenchmen. The "Alliance" was a

powerful, well-built American frigate, carrying an American crew, but

commanded by a French officer,--Capt. Landais. This vessel was the

last to arrive at the rendezvous, as she had a stormy and somewhat

eventful trip across the ocean.

The "Alliance" was a thirty-two gun frigate, built under the

supervision of the American Marine Committee, and which had come to

European waters, bringing as a passenger the distinguished Gen.

Lafayette. As has been stated, she was under the command of a French

naval officer, to whom the command had been offered as a compliment to

France. Unfortunately the jack tars of America were not so anxious to

compliment France, and looked with much disfavor upon the prospect of

serving under a Frenchman. Capt. Landais, therefore, found great

difficulty in getting a crew to man his frigate; and when Lafayette

reached Boston, ready to embark for France, the roster of the ship in

which he was to sail was still painfully incomplete. Great was the

mortification of the American authorities; and the government of

Massachusetts, desiring to aid the distinguished Frenchman in every

way, offered to complete by impressment. It is vastly to the credit of

Lafayette that he refused for a moment to countenance a method of

recruiting so entirely in opposition to those principles of liberty to

which he was devoted. But, though impressment was not resorted to, a

plan hardly less objectionable was adopted. The British man-of-war

"Somerset" had been wrecked on the New England coast some time before,

and many of her crew were then in Boston. These men volunteered to

join the crew of the "Alliance," though by so doing they knew that

they were likely to be forced to fight against their own flag and

countrymen. But the ties of nationality bear lightly upon sailors, and

these men were as ready to fight under the stars and stripes as under

the cross of St. George.

With a crew made up of Americans, Englishmen, and Frenchmen, the

"Alliance" put to sea in the early part of January, 1779. It was the

most stormy season of the year on the tempestuous Atlantic. But the

storms which racked the good ship from without were as nothing to the

turbulence within. In the forecastle were three different elements of

discord. British, French, and Americans quarrelled bitterly among

themselves, and the jackies went about their work with a sullen air

that betokened trouble brewing.

The officers suspected the impending trouble, but had little idea of

its extent. They were living over a volcano which was liable to burst

forth at any moment. The Englishmen in the crew, who numbered some

seventy or eighty, had determined to mutiny, and had perfected all

their plans for the uprising. Their intention was not only to seize

the ship, and take her into an English port, but they proposed to

wreak their hatred in the bloodiest form upon the officers. Capt.

Landais, as the special object of their hate, was to be put into an

open boat without food, water, oars, or sails. Heavy irons were to

bind his wrists and ankles, and he was to be set adrift to starve on

the open ocean. The fate of the surgeon and marine officer was to be

equally hard. They were to be hanged and quartered, and their bodies

cast into the sea. The sailing-master was to be seized up to the

mizzen-mast, stripped to the waist, and his back cut to pieces with

the cat-of-nine-tails; after which he was to be slowly hacked to

pieces with cutlasses, and thrown into the sea. The gunner, carpenter,

and boatswain were to be mercifully treated. No torture was prepared

for them, but they were to be promptly put to death. As to the

lieutenants, they were to be given the choice between navigating the

ship to the nearest British port, or walking the plank.

This sanguinary programme the mutineers discussed day and night. The

ringleaders were in the same watch, and in the silent hours of the

night matured their plans, and picked out men whom they thought would

join them. One by one they cautiously chose their associates. The

sailor whom the mutineers thought was a safe man would be led quietly

apart from his fellows to some secluded nook on the gun-deck; and

there, with many pledges to secrecy, the plot would be revealed, and

his assistance asked. Or perhaps of two men out on the end of a

tossing yard-arm, far above the raging waters, one would be a

mutineer, and would take that opportunity to try to win his fellow

sailor to the cause. So the mutiny spread apace; and the volcano was

almost ready to burst forth, when all was discovered, and the plans of

the mutineers were happily defeated.

The conspirators had succeeded in gaining the support of all the

Englishmen in the crew, as well as many of the sailors of other

nationalities. So numerous were their adherents, that they were well

able to capture the ship; but before so doing they sought to gain one

more recruit. This man was an American sailor, who had lived long in

Ireland, and spoke with a slight brogue, that led the conspirators to

think him a subject of the king, and an enemy to the revolted

colonies. This man was known to have some knowledge of navigation, and

the mutineers felt that his assistance would be essential to the

success of their plot. Though they had planned to force the

lieutenant, under penalty of death, to navigate the vessel into a

British port, they had no means of telling whether the lieutenant

should play them false. It would be an easy matter for an officer to

take the ship into a French port, where the lives of the conspirators

should pay the penalty of their misdeeds. Accordingly, it was highly

important for them to number among them some one versed in the science

of navigation; and, with this end in view, they turned to the young

Irish-American.

The young seaman proved to be possessed of the loyalty and shrewdness

of the Yankee, together with a touch of the blarney of the genuine

Irishman. He listened to the complaints of the mutineers, sympathized

with their grievances, entered heartily into their plans, and by his

apparent interest in the conspiracy soon became looked upon as one of

the chief ringleaders.

He learned that the plan of the conspirators was to assemble on deck

about daylight on a certain day when one of the conspirators should be

posted in the tops as lookout. This man was to raise the cry of "Sail,

ho!" when the officers and passengers would of course come to the

quarter-deck unarmed. The mutineers would commence operations by

seizing them in a body. Then, separating into four parties, the

conspirators would seize upon the ship. On the forecastle were mounted

four nine-pound guns. These were usually kept charged with blank

cartridge only; but a gunner's mate, who was one of the ringleaders,

had quietly slipped a charge of canister into each gun. Should the

officers show signs of resistance, these cannon were to be trained

aft, and the quarter-deck swept by their discharge. Discipline on a

man-of-war requires that the crew should be kept disarmed, except in

time of battle; the cutlasses, pikes, and pistols being given over to

the armorer. But a sergeant of marines had done the cause of the

mutineers good service, by purloining some muskets, and handing them

over to the ringleaders.

Having thus gained full knowledge of the plans of the mutineers, the

loyal seaman sought the first opportunity to warn the officers of the

ship. But not until three o'clock on the afternoon before the day set

for the mutiny could he manage to slip into the captain's cabin unseen

by the conspirators. Landais and Lafayette were seated there talking.

"Well, what's wanted now?" asked the captain in the peremptory tone

officers assume in speaking to a sailor.

The intruder stammered and looked confused, but finally managed to

tell the story. Landais was amazed. That so dangerous a conspiracy

should have been nurtured in his crew, astonished him beyond

expression. But he wasted no time in vain conjectures. Quietly the

word was passed to the officers and passengers to assemble in the

captain's cabin. Some trusty petty officers were given arms to

distribute among the American and French seamen who had not been

infected with the fever of mutiny. At a given signal the officers and

passengers rushed to the quarter-deck. The American and French seamen

joined them; and the conspirators suddenly found themselves confronted

by an angry body of determined men, fully armed.

The leading mutineers were pointed out by the informer, instantly

seized, and hurried below in irons. Then the work of arresting the

other conspirators began, and was continued until about forty of the

English were in irons. While the work was progressing, a square-rigged

ship hove in sight, and was soon made out to be one of the enemy's

twenty-gun ships. Under ordinary circumstances, the "Alliance" would

have sought to give battle to the enemy; but in the present instance,

with mutiny rife among his crew, Capt. Landais thought it his wisest

course to avoid the stranger. A few days later, the "Alliance" arrived

at Brest, where the mutineers were thrown into jail, and kept in close

confinement, until exchanged for American prisoners in the hands of

the British.

But to return to Paul Jones, whom we left with the "Bon Homme Richard"

lying at anchor in the harbor of L'Orient waiting for the arrival of

his allies. On the 19th of June, 1779, all were ready to sail, and

left the harbor with a few coasters and transports under convoy. The

"Bon Homme Richard" was the largest vessel of the little fleet; next

came the "Alliance," under command of Capt. Landais; then the

"Pallas," an old merchantman hastily remodelled, and mounting

thirty-two guns; then the "Cerf" with eighteen guns, and the

"Vengeance" with twelve. Though not a very formidable armada, this

little fleet might have done great good to the American cause, had

Paul Jones been given proper authority, and had his daring plans been

countenanced by the French authorities. But, though nominally

commander-in-chief, Jones soon found that he had no means of enforcing

his authority. He found that the three Frenchmen in command of the

other vessels of the squadron looked upon him as a partner in the

enterprise, rather than as a leader with absolute authority. They paid

no heed to the signals set at the fore of the flag-ship. They wilfully

disobeyed orders. Worse than all, they proved to be poor seamen; and

the squadron had hardly got into blue water before the "Alliance" was

run foul of the "Richard," losing her own mizzen-mast, and tearing

away the head and bowsprit of the flag-ship. Thus, after long months

of preparation for sea, Jones found himself forced to return to port

to refit. It has been charged that this accident was not altogether

accidental, so far as the "Alliance" was concerned. Landais, the

commander of that vessel, hated Jones, and was insanely jealous of the

man who outranked him. The collision was only the first of a series of

mishaps, all of which Landais ascribed to accident, but which

unprejudiced readers must confess seem to have been inspired by malice

or the results of gross incompetence.

A few days sufficed to repair all damage, and again the vessels sought

the open sea. When two days out, a strange sail was sighted. Jones

crowded all sail on the "Richard," and set out in hot pursuit, but

found, to his bitter disappointment, that his ship was a wretchedly

slow sailer. Therefore, signalling to the swift-sailing "Cerf" to

follow the stranger, he abandoned the chase to the smaller craft. All

night long the cutter followed in the wake of the stranger, and when

day broke the two vessels were near enough to each other to readily

make out each other's character. The stranger proved to be a small

English cruiser of fourteen guns. Her captain was no poltroon; for as

soon as he discovered that the ship from which he had been trying to

escape was but little larger than his own, he came about, and, running

down upon the "Cerf," opened fire. The action was a sharp one. The two

vessels were fairly matched and well fought. The thunder of their

broadsides resounded far and wide over the ocean. For an hour they

grappled in deadly strife. The tide of battle turned now to one side,

and now to the other. But at last the superior metal of the "Cerf" won

for her the victory. With her battered prize in tow, she sought to

rejoin the squadron, but unluckily fell in with a British frigate that

had been attracted by the sound of the cannonading. It was useless to

think of saving the prize: so the "Cerf" abandoned it, and after a

hard chase escaped, and put into the harbor of L'Orient.

In the mean time, the squadron had become separated; and, after a

fortnight's fruitless cruising, all the vessels returned to L'Orient.

Here they lay until the middle of August. More than three months had

passed since Jones had been given command of the "Richard." Most of

the time had been spent in port. The little cruising that had been

done had been unproductive of results. Dissension and jealousy made

the squadron absolutely ineffective. As for the "Bon Homme Richard,"

she had proved a failure; being unable to overhaul the enemy that she

wished to engage, or escape from the man-of-war she might wish to

avoid. Jones saw his reputation fast slipping away from him. Bitterly

he bewailed the fate that had put him at the mercy of a lot of

quarrelsome Frenchmen. He determined that when once again he got to

sea he would ignore his consorts, and fight the battles of his country

with his own ship only.

It was on the 14th of August that the squadron weighed anchor, and

left the harbor of L'Orient. The "Richard" was greatly strengthened by

the addition to her crew of about one hundred American seamen, who had

been sent to France from England in exchange for a number of English

prisoners. With her sailed the same vessels that had previously made

up the squadron, together with two French privateers,--the "Monsieur"

and the "Granville." Four days after sailing, a large French ship in

charge of a British prize-crew was sighted. The whole squadron gave

chase; and the "Monsieur," being the swiftest sailer of the fleet,

recaptured the prize. Then arose a quarrel. The privateersmen claimed

that the prize was theirs alone. They had captured it, and the regular

naval officers had no authority over them. To this Capt. Jones

vigorously demurred, and, taking the prize from its captors, sent it

to L'Orient to be disposed of in accordance with the laws. In high

dudgeon, the privateers vowed vengeance, and that night the "Monsieur"

left the squadron. She was a fine, fast vessel, mounting forty guns;

and her departure greatly weakened the fleet.

A few days later a second serious loss was encountered. The fleet was

lying off Cape Clear, only a few miles from the shore. The day was

perfectly calm. Not a breath of wind ruffled the calm surface of the

water. The sails flapped idly against the mast. The sailors lay about

the decks, trying to keep cool, and lazily watching the distant shore.

Far off in the distance a white sail glimmered on the horizon. It

showed no sign of motion, and was clearly becalmed. After some

deliberation, Capt. Jones determined to attempt to capture the

stranger by means of boats. The two largest boats, manned with crews

of picked men, were sent out to hail the vessel, and, if she proved to

be an enemy, to capture her. In this they were successful, and

returned next day, bringing the captured craft.

But, while the two boats were still out after the enemy's ship, the

tide changed; and Capt. Jones soon saw that his ship was in danger

from a powerful current, that seemed to be sweeping her on shore. A

few hundred yards from the ship, two dangerous reefs, known as the

Skallocks and the Blasketts, reared their black heads above the calm

surface of the sea. Toward these rocks the "Bon Homme Richard" was

drifting, when Jones, seeing the danger, ordered out two boats to tow

the ship to a less perilous position. As the best men of the crew had

been sent away to capture the brig, the crews of the two boats were

made up of the riff-raff of the crew. Many of them were Englishmen,

mere mercenary sailors, who had shipped on the Richard, secretly

intending to desert at the first opportunity. Therefore, when night

fell, as they were still in the boats trying to pull the "Richard's"

head around, they cut the ropes and made off for the shore.

The desertion was discovered immediately. The night was clear, and by

the faint light of the stars the course of the receding boats could be

traced. The sailing-master of the "Richard," a Mr. Trent, being the

first to discover the treachery, sprang into a boat with a few armed

men, and set out in hot pursuit. The bow-gun of the "Richard" was

hastily trained on the deserters, and a few cannon-shot sent after

them; but without effect. Before the pursuing boat could overhaul the

fugitives, a dense bank of gray fog settled over the water, and

pursued and pursuers were hidden from each other and from the gaze of

those on the man-of-war. All night long the fog, like a moist,

impenetrable curtain, rested on the ocean. The next day the "Cerf" set

out to find the missing boats. As she neared the shore, to avoid

raising an alarm, she hoisted British colors. Hardly had she done so

when she was seen by Trent and his companions. The fog made the

outlines of the cutter indistinct, and magnified her in the eyes of

the Americans, so that they mistook her for an English man-of-war. To

avoid what they thought would lead to certain capture on the water,

they ran their boat ashore, and speedily fell into the hands of the

British coast guard. They were at once thrown into prison, where the

unfortunate Trent soon died. The rest of the party were exchanged

later in the war.

The loss of the boats, and capture of Mr. Trent and his followers,

were not the only unfortunate results of this incident; for the "Cerf"

became lost in the fog, and before she could rejoin the fleet a

violent gale sprang up, and she was carried back to the coast of

France. She never again returned to join the fleet, and Jones found

his force again, depleted.

But the effective force of the squadron under the command of Paul

Jones was weakened far more by the eccentric and mutinous actions of

Capt. Landais of the "Alliance" than by any losses by desertion or

capture. When the news of the loss of two boats by desertion reached

the "Alliance," Landais straightway went to the "Richard," and

entering the cabin began to upbraid Jones in unmeasured terms for

having lost two boats through his folly in sending boats to capture a

brig.

"It is not true, Capt. Landais," answered Jones, "that the boats which

are lost are the two which were sent to capture the brig."

"Do you tell me I lie?" screamed the Frenchman, white with anger. His

officers strove to pacify him, but without avail; and he left the

"Richard" vowing that he would challenge Capt. Jones, and kill him.

Shortly thereafter the "Richard" captured a very valuable prize,--a

ship mounting twenty-two guns, and loaded with sails, rigging,

anchors, cables, and other essential articles for the navy Great

Britain was building on the Lakes. By desertion and other causes, the

crew of the "Richard" was greatly depleted, and not enough men could

be spared to man the prize. Jones applied to Landais for aid. In

response the Frenchman said,--

"If it is your wish that I should take charge of the prize, I shall

not allow any boat or any individual from the 'Bon Homme Richard' to

go near her."

To this absurd stipulation Jones agreed. Landais, having thus assumed

complete charge of the prize, showed his incompetence by sending her,

together with a prize taken by the "Alliance," to Bergen in Norway.

The Danish Government, being on friendly terms with England,

immediately surrendered the vessels to the British ambassador; and the

cause of the young republic was cheated of more than two hundred

thousand dollars through the insane negligence of the French captain.

Ever thereafter, Landais manifested the most insolent indifference to

the orders of Capt. Jones, to whom, as his superior officer, he should

render implicit obedience. He came and went as he saw fit. The

"Alliance" would disappear from the squadron, and return again after

two or three days' absence, without apology or explanation. Jones soon

learned to look with indifference upon the antics of his consort, and

considered his squadron as composed of the "Richard," "Vengeance," and

"Pallas" only.

On the 15th of September, the three vessels lay off the port of Leith,

a thriving city, which was then, as now, the seaport for the greater

city of Edinburgh, which stands a little farther inland. Jones had

come to this point cherishing one of those daring plans of which his

mind was so fertile. He had learned that the harbor was full of

shipping, and defended only by a single armed vessel of twenty guns.

Shore batteries there were none. The people of the town were resting

in fancied security, and had no idea that the dreaded Paul Jones was

at their very harbor's mouth. It would have been an easy matter for

the three cruisers to make a dash into the harbor, take some

distinguished prisoners, demand a huge ransom, fire the shipping, and

escape again to the open sea. Had Jones been in reality, as he was in

name, the commander of the little fleet, the exploit would have been

performed. But the lack of authority which had hampered him throughout

his cruise paralyzed him here. By the time he had overcome the timid

objections of the captains of the "Vengeance" and the "Pallas," all

Leith was aroused. Still Jones persevered. His arrangements were

carefully perfected. Troops were to be landed under command of

Lieut.-Col. Chamillard, who was to lay before the chief magistrate of

the town the following letter, written by Jones himself:--

"I do not wish to distress the poor inhabitants. My intention is only

to demand your contribution toward the reimbursement which Britain

owes to the much injured citizens of America. Savages would blush at

the unmanly violation and rapacity that have marked the tracks of

British tyranny in America, from which neither virgin innocence nor

helpless age has been a plea of protection or pity.

"Leith and its port now lay at our mercy. And did not the plea of

humanity stay the just hand of retaliation, I should without

advertisement lay it in ashes. Before I proceed to that stern duty as

an officer, my duty as a man induces me to propose to you, by means

of a reasonable ransom, to prevent such a scene of horror and

distress. For this reason, I have authorized Lieut.-Col. de Chamillard

to agree with you on the terms of ransom, allowing you exactly half an

hour's reflection before you finally accept or reject the terms which

he shall propose."

The landing parties having been chosen, the order of attack mapped

out, and part to be taken by each boat's-crew accurately defined, the

three vessels advanced to the attack. It was a bright Sunday morning.

A light breeze blowing on shore wafted the three vessels gently along

the smooth surface of the bay. It is said that as the invaders passed

the little town of Kirkaldy, the people were at church, but, seeing

the three men-of-war passing, deserted the sacred edifice for the

beach, where the gray-haired pastor, surrounded by his flock, offered

the following remarkable appeal to the Deity:--

"Now, dear Lord, dinna ye think it a shame for ye to send this vile

pirate to rob our folk o' Kirkaldy? Ye ken that they are puir enow

already, and hae naething to spare. The way the wind blaws, he'll be

here in a jiffy. And wha kens what he may do? He's nae too good for

ony thing. Mickles the mischief he has done already. He'll burn their

hooses, take their very claes, and strip them to the very sark. And

waes me, wha kens but that the bluidy villain might tak' their lives!

The puir weemin are most frightened out of their wits, and the bairns

screeching after them. I canna think of it! I canna think of it!

"I hae long been a faithful servant to ye, O Lord. But gin ye dinna

turn the wind about, and blaw the scoundrel out of our gate, I'll nae

stir a foot, but will just sit here till the tide comes. Sae tak' your

will o't."

Never was prayer more promptly answered. Hardly had the pastor

concluded his prayer, when the wind veered round, and soon a violent

gale was blowing off shore. In the teeth of the wind, the ships could

make no headway. The gale increased in violence until it rivalled in

fierceness a tornado. The sea was lashed into fury, and great waves

arose, on the crests of which the men-of-war were tossed about like

fragile shells. The coal-ship which had been captured was so racked

and torn by the heavy seas, that her seams opened, and she foundered

so speedily, that only by the most active efforts was her crew saved.

After several hours' ineffectual battling with the gale, the ships

were forced to come about and run out to sea; and Jones suffered the

mortification of witnessing the failure of his enterprise, after

having been within gunshot of the town that he had hoped to capture.

As for the good people of Kirkaldy, they were convinced that their

escape from the daring seamen was wholly due to the personal influence

of their pastor with the Deity; and the worthy parson lived long

afterward, ever held in the most mighty veneration by the people of

his flock.

CHAPTER IX.

CAREER OF PAUL JONES CONCLUDED. -- THE BATTLE BETWEEN THE

"BON HOMME RICHARD" AND THE "SERAPIS." -- TREACHERY OF

LANDAIS. -- JONES'S GREAT VICTORY. -- LANDAIS STEALS THE

"ALLIANCE." -- JONES IN COMMAND OF THE "ARIEL." -- THE

"ARIEL" IN THE STORM. -- ARRIVAL IN AMERICA.

After this adventure, the three vessels continued their cruise along

the eastern coast of Scotland. Continued good fortune, in the way of

prizes, rather soothed the somewhat chafed feelings of Capt. Jones,

and he soon recovered from the severe disappointment caused by the

failure of his attack upon Leith. He found good reason to believe that

the report of his exploits had spread far and wide in England, and

that British sea-captains were using every precaution to avoid

encountering him. British vessels manifested an extreme disinclination

to come within hailing distance of any of the cruisers, although all

three were so disguised that it seemed impossible to make out their

warlike character. One fleet of merchantmen that caught sight of the

"Bon Homme Richard" and the "Pallas" ran into the River Humber, to the

mouth of which they were pursued by the two men-of-war. Lying at

anchor outside the bar, Jones made signal for a pilot, keeping the

British flag flying at his peak. Two pilot-boats came out; and Jones,

assuming the character of a British naval officer, learned from them,

that besides the merchantmen lying at anchor in the river, a British

frigate lay there waiting to convoy a fleet of merchantmen to the

north. Jones tried to lure the frigate out with a signal that the

pilots revealed to him; but, though she weighed anchor, she was driven

back by strong head-winds that were blowing. Disappointed in this

plan, Jones continued his cruise. Soon after he fell in with the

"Alliance" and the "Vengeance;" and, while off Flamborough Head, the

little squadron encountered a fleet of forty-one merchant ships, that,

at the sight of the dreaded Yankee cruisers, crowded together like a

flock of frightened pigeons, and made all sail for the shore; while

two stately men-of-war--the "Serapis, forty-four," and the "Countess

of Scarborough, twenty-two"--moved forward to give battle to the

Americans.