Jones now stood upon the threshold of his greatest victory. His bold

and chivalric mind had longed for battle, and recoiled from the less

glorious pursuit of burning helpless merchantmen, and terrorizing

small towns and villages. He now saw before him a chance to meet the

enemy in a fair fight, muzzle to muzzle, and with no overpowering odds

on either side. Although the Americans had six vessels to the

Englishmen's two, the odds were in no wise in their favor. Two of the

vessels were pilot-boats, which, of course, kept out of the battle.

The "Vengeance," though ordered to render the larger vessels any

possible assistance, kept out of the fight altogether, and even

neglected to make any attempt to overhaul the flying band of

merchantmen. As for the "Alliance," under the erratic Landais, she

only entered the conflict at the last moment; and then her broadsides,

instead of being delivered into the enemy, crashed through the already

shattered sides of the "Bon Homme Richard." Thus the actual combatants

were the "Richard" with forty guns, against the "Serapis" with

forty-four; and the "Pallas" with twenty-two guns, against the

"Countess of Scarborough" with twenty-two.

It was about seven o'clock in the evening of a clear September

day--the twenty-third--that the hostile vessels bore down upon each

other, making rapid preparations for the impending battle. The sea was

fast turning gray, as the deepening twilight robbed the sky of its

azure hue. A brisk breeze was blowing, that filled out the bellying

sails of the ships, and beat the waters into little waves capped with

snowy foam. In the west the rosy tints of the autumnal sunset were

still warm in the sky. Nature was in one of her most smiling moods, as

these men with set faces, and hearts throbbing with the mingled

emotions of fear and excitement, stood silent at their guns, or worked

busily at the ropes of the great war-ships.

As soon as he became convinced of the character of the two English

ships, Jones beat his crew to quarters, and signalled his consorts to

form in line of battle. The people on the "Richard" went cheerfully to

their guns; and though the ship was extremely short-handed, and

crowded with prisoners, no voice was raised against giving immediate

battle to the enemy. The actions of the other vessels of the American

fleet, however, gave little promise of any aid from that quarter. When

the enemy was first sighted, the swift-sailing "Alliance" dashed

forward to reconnoitre. As she passed the "Pallas," Landais cried out,

that, if the stranger proved to be a forty-four, the only course for

the Americans was immediate flight. Evidently the result of his

investigations convinced him that in flight lay his only hope of

safety; for he quickly hauled off, and stood away from the enemy. The

"Vengeance," too, ran off to windward, leaving the "Richard" and the

"Pallas" to bear the brunt of battle.

It was by this time quite dark, and the position of the ships was

outlined by the rows of open port-holes gleaming with the lurid light

of the battle-lanterns. On each ship rested a stillness like that of

death itself. The men stood at their guns silent and thoughtful. Sweet

memories of home and loved ones mingled with fearful anticipations of

death or of mangling wounds in the minds of each. The little lads

whose duty in time of action it was to carry cartridges from the

magazine to the gunners had ceased their boyish chatter, and stood

nervously at their stations. Officers walked up and down the decks,

speaking words of encouragement to the men, glancing sharply at

primers and breechings to see that all was ready, and ever and anon

stooping to peer through the porthole at the line of slowly moving

lights that told of the approach of the enemy. On the quarter-deck,

Paul Jones, with his officers about him, stood carefully watching the

movements of the enemy through a night glass, giving occasionally a

quiet order to the man at the wheel, and now and then sending an agile

midshipman below with orders to the armorer, or aloft with orders for

the sharp-shooters posted in the tops.

As the night came on, the wind died away to a gentle breeze, that

hardly ruffled the surface of the water, and urged the ships toward

each other but sluggishly. As they came within pistol-shot of each

other, bow to bow, and going on opposite tacks, a hoarse cry came from

the deck of the "Serapis,"--

"What ship is that?"

"What is that you say?"

"What ship is that? Answer immediately, or I shall fire into you."

Instantly with a flash and roar both vessels opened fire. The thunder

of the broadsides reverberated over the waters; and the bright flash

of the cannon, together with the pale light of the moon just rising,

showed Flamborough Head crowded with multitudes who had come out to

witness the grand yet awful spectacle of a naval duel.

The very first broadside seemed enough to wreck the fortunes of the

"Richard." In her gun-room were mounted six long eighteens, the only

guns she carried that were of sufficient weight to be matched against

the heavy ordnance of the "Serapis." At the very first discharge, two

of these guns burst with frightful violence. Huge masses of iron were

hurled in every direction, cutting through beams and stanchions,

crashing through floors and bulkheads, and tearing through the

agonized bodies of the men who served the guns. Hardly a man who was

stationed in the gun-room escaped unhurt in the storm of iron and

splinters. Several huge blocks of iron crashed through the upper deck,

injuring the people on the deck above, and causing the cry to be

raised, that the magazine had blown up. This unhappy calamity not only

rendered useless the whole battery of eighteen-pounders, thus forcing

Jones to fight an eighteen-pounder frigate with a twelve-pounder

battery, but it spread a panic among the men, who saw the dangers of

explosion added to the peril they were in by reason of the enemy's

continued fire.

Jones himself left the quarter-deck, and rushed forward among the men,

cheering them on, and arousing them to renewed activity by his

exertions. Now he would lend a hand at training some gun, now pull at

a rope, or help a lagging powder-monkey on his way. His pluck and

enthusiasm infused new life into the men; and they threw the heavy

guns about like playthings, and cheered loudly as each shot told.

The two ships were at no time separated by a greater distance than

half a pistol-shot, and were continually manoeuvring to cross each

others' bows, and get in a raking broadside. In this attempt, they

crossed from one to the other side of each other; so that now the port

and now the starboard battery would be engaged. From the shore these

evolutions were concealed under a dense cloud of smoke, and the

spectators could only see the tops of the two vessels moving slowly

about before the light breeze; while the lurid flashes of the cannon,

and constant thunder of the broadsides, told of the deadly work going

on. At a little distance were the "Countess of Scarborough" and the

"Pallas," linked in deadly combat, and adding the roar of their cannon

to the general turmoil. It seemed to the watchers on the heights that

war was coming very close to England.

The "Serapis" first succeeded in getting a raking position; and, as

she slowly crossed her antagonist's bow, her guns were fired, loaded

again, and again discharged,--the heavy bolts crashing into the

"Richard's" bow, and ranging aft, tearing the flesh of the brave

fellows on the decks, and cutting through timbers and cordage in their

frightful course. At this moment, the Americans almost despaired of

the termination of the conflict. The "Richard" proved to be old and

rotten, and the enemy's shot seemed to tear her timbers to pieces;

while the "Serapis" was new, with timbers that withstood the shock of

the balls like steel armor. Jones saw that in a battle with great guns

he was sure to be the loser. He therefore resolved to board.

Soon the "Richard" made an attempt to cross the bows of the "Serapis,"

but not having way enough failed; and the "Serapis" ran foul of her,

with her long bowsprit projecting over the stern of the American ship.

Springing from the quarter-deck, Jones with his own hands swung

grappling-irons into the rigging of the enemy, and made the ships

fast. As he bent to his work, he was a prominent target for every

sharp-shooter on the British vessel, and the bullets hummed thickly

about his ears; but he never flinched. His work done, he clambered

back to the quarter-deck, and set about gathering the boarders. The

two vessels swung alongside each other. The cannonading was redoubled,

and the heavy ordnance of the "Serapis" told fearfully upon the

"Richard." The American gunners were driven from their guns by the

flying cloud of shot and splinters. Each party thought the other was

about to board. The darkness and the smoke made all vision impossible;

and the boarders on each vessel were crouched behind the bulwarks,

ready to give a hot reception to their enemies. This suspense caused a

temporary lull in the firing, and Capt. Pearson of the "Serapis"

shouted out through the sulphurous blackness,--

"Have you struck your colors?"

"I have not yet begun to fight," replied Jones; and again the thunder

of the cannon awakened the echoes on the distant shore. As the firing

recommenced, the two ships broke away and drifted apart. Again the

"Serapis" sought to get a raking position; but by this time Jones had

determined that his only hope lay in boarding. Terrible had been the

execution on his ship. The cock-pit was filled with the wounded. The

mangled remains of the dead lay thick about the decks. The timbers of

the ship were greatly shattered, and her cordage was so badly cut that

skilful manoeuvring was impossible. Many shot-holes were beneath the

water-line, and the hold was rapidly filling. Therefore, Jones

determined to run down his enemy, and get out his boarders, at any

cost.

Soon the two vessels were foul again. Capt. Pearson, knowing that his

advantage lay in long-distance fighting, strove to break away. Jones

bent all his energies to the task of keeping the ships together.

Meantime the battle raged fiercely. Jones himself, in his official

report of the battle, thus describes the course of the fight:--

"I directed the fire of one of the three cannon against the main-mast

with double-headed shot, while the other two were exceedingly well

served with grape and canister shot, to silence the enemy's musketry,

and clear her decks, which was at last effected. The enemy were, as I

have since understood, on the instant for calling for quarter, when

the cowardice or treachery of three of my under officers induced them

to call to the enemy. The English commodore asked me if I demanded

quarter; and I having answered him in the negative, they renewed the

battle with double fury. They were unable to stand the deck; but the

fury of their cannon, especially the lower battery, which was entirely

formed of eighteen-pounders, was incessant. Both ships were set on

fire in various places, and the scene was dreadful beyond the reach of

language. To account for the timidity of my three under officers (I

mean the gunner, the carpenter, and the master-at-arms), I must

observe that the two first were slightly wounded; and as the ship had

received various shots under water, and one of the pumps being shot

away, the carpenter expressed his fear that she would sink, and the

other two concluded that she was sinking, which occasioned the gunner

to run aft on the poop, without my knowledge, to strike the colors.

Fortunately for me a cannon-ball had done that before by carrying away

the ensign staff: he was, therefore, reduced to the necessity of

sinking--as he supposed--or of calling for quarter; and he preferred

the latter."

Indeed, the petty officers were little to be blamed for considering

the condition of the "Richard" hopeless. The great guns of the

"Serapis," with their muzzles not twenty feet away, were hurling solid

shot and grape through the flimsy shell of the American ship. So close

together did the two ships come at times, that the rammers were

sometimes thrust into the port-holes of the opposite ship in loading.

When the ships first swung together, the lower ports of the "Serapis"

were closed to prevent the Americans boarding through them. But in the

heat of the conflict the ports were quickly blown off, and the iron

throats of the great guns again protruded, and dealt out their

messages of death. How frightful was the scene! In the two great ships

were more than seven hundred men, their eyes lighted with the fire of

hatred, their faces blackened with powder or made ghastly by streaks

of blood. Cries of pain, yells of rage, prayers, and curses rose

shrill above the thunderous monotone of the cannonade. Both ships were

on fire; and the black smoke of the conflagration, mingled with the

gray gunpowder smoke, and lighted up by the red flashes of the

cannonade, added to the terrible picturesqueness of the scene.

The "Richard" seemed like a spectre ship, so shattered was her

framework. From the main-mast to the stern post, her timbers above the

water-line were shot away, a few blackened posts alone preventing the

upper deck from falling. Through this ruined shell swept the shot of

the "Serapis," finding little to impede their flight save human flesh

and bone. Great streams of water were pouring into the hold. The

pitiful cries of nearly two hundred prisoners aroused the compassion

of an officer, who ran below and liberated them. Driven from the hold

by the inpouring water, these unhappy men ran to the deck, only to be

swept down by the storm of cannon-shot and bullets. Fire, too,

encompassed them; and the flames were so fast sweeping down upon the

magazine, that Capt. Jones ordered the powder-kegs to be brought up

and thrown into the sea. At this work, and at the pumps, the prisoners

were kept employed until the end of the action.

But though the heavy guns of the "Serapis" had it all their own way

below, shattering the hull of the "Richard," and driving the Yankee

gunners from their quarters, the conflict, viewed from the tops, was

not so one-sided. The Americans crowded on the forecastle and in the

tops, where they continued the battle with musketry and hand-grenades,

with such murderous effect that the British were driven entirely from

the upper deck. Once a party of about one hundred picked men, mustered

below by Capt. Pearson, rushed to the upper deck of the "Serapis," and

thence made a descent upon the deck of the "Richard," firing pistols,

brandishing cutlasses, and yelling like demons. But the Yankee tars

were ready for them at that game, and gave the boarders so spirited a

reception with pikes and cutlasses, that they were ready enough to

swarm over the bulwarks, and seek again the comparative safety of

their own ship.

But all this time, though the Americans were making a brave and

desperate defence, the tide of battle was surely going against them

Though they held the deck of the "Richard" secure against all comers,

yet the Englishmen were cutting the ship away from beneath them, with

continued heavy broadsides. Suddenly the course of battle was changed,

and victory took her stand with the Americans, all through the daring

and coolness of one man,--no officer, but an humble jacky.

The rapid and accurate fire of the sharp-shooters on the "Richard" had

driven all the riflemen of the "Serapis" from their posts in the tops.

Seeing this, the Americans swarmed into the rigging of their own ship,

and from that elevated station poured down a destructive fire of

hand-grenades upon the decks of the enemy. The sailors on the deck of

the "Richard" seconded this attack, by throwing the same missiles

through the open ports of the enemy.

At last one American topman, filling a bucket with grenades, and

hanging it on his left arm, clambered out on the yard-arm of the

"Richard," that stretched far out over the deck of the British ship.

Cautiously the brave fellow crept out on the slender spar. His

comrades below watched his progress, while the sharp-shooters kept a

wary eye on the enemy, lest some watchful rifleman should pick off the

adventurous blue-jacket. Little by little the nimble sailor crept out

on the yard, until he was over the crowded gun-deck of the "Serapis."

Then, lying at full length on the spar, and somewhat protected by it,

he began to shower his missiles upon the enemy's gun-deck. Great was

the execution done by each grenade; but at last, one better aimed

than the rest fell through the main hatch to the main deck. There was

a flash, then a succession of quick explosions; a great sheet of flame

gushed up through the hatchway, and a chorus of cries told of some

frightful tragedy enacted below.

It seemed that the powder-boys of the "Serapis" had been too active in

bringing powder to the guns, and, instead of bringing cartridges as

needed, had kept one charge in advance of the demand; so that behind

every gun stood a cartridge, making a line of cartridges on the deck

from bow to stern. Several cartridges had been broken, so that much

loose powder lay upon the deck. This was fired by the discharge of the

hand-grenade, and communicated the fire to the cartridges, which

exploded in rapid succession, horribly burning scores of men. More

than twenty men were killed instantly; and so great was the flame and

the force of the explosion, that many of them were left with nothing

on but the collars and wristbands of their shirts and the waistbands

of their trousers. It is impossible to conceive of the horror of the

sight.

Capt. Pearson in his official report of the battle, speaking of this

occurrence, says, "A hand-grenade being thrown in at one of the lower

ports, a cartridge of powder was set on fire, the flames of which,

running from cartridge to cartridge all the way aft, blew up the whole

of the people and officers that were quartered abaft the main-mast;

from which unfortunate circumstance those guns were rendered useless

for the remainder of the action, and I fear that the greater part of

the people will lose their lives."

This event changed the current of the battle. The English were hemmed

between decks by the fire of the American topmen, and they found that

not even then were they protected from the fiery hail of

hand-grenades. The continual pounding of double-headed shot from a gun

which Jones had trained upon the main-mast of the enemy had finally

cut away that spar; and it fell with a crash upon the deck, bringing

down spars and rigging with it. Flames were rising from the tarred

cordage, and spreading to the framework of the ship. The Americans saw

victory within their grasp.

But at this moment a new and most unsuspected enemy appeared upon the

scene. The "Alliance," which had stood aloof during the heat of the

conflict, now appeared, and, after firing a few shots into the

"Serapis," ranged slowly down along the "Richard," pouring a murderous

fire of grape-shot into the already shattered ship. Jones thus tells

the story of this treacherous and wanton assault:--

"I now thought that the battle was at an end. But, to my utter

astonishment, he discharged a broadside full into the stern of the

'Bon Homme Richard.' We called to him for God's sake to forbear. Yet

he passed along the off-side of the ship, and continued firing. There

was no possibility of his mistaking the enemy's ship for the 'Bon

Homme Richard,' there being the most essential difference in their

appearance and construction. Besides, it was then full moonlight; and

the sides of the 'Bon Homme Richard' were all black, and the sides of

the enemy's ship were yellow. Yet, for the greater security, I showed

the signal for our reconnoissance, by putting out three lanterns,--one

at the bow, one at the stern, and one at the middle, in a horizontal

line.

"Every one cried that he was firing into the wrong ship, but nothing

availed. He passed around, firing into the 'Bon Homme Richard,' head,

stern, and broadside, and by one of his volleys killed several of my

best men, and mortally wounded a good officer of the forecastle. My

situation was truly deplorable. The 'Bon Homme Richard' received

several shots under the water from the 'Alliance.' The leak gained on

the pumps, and the fire increased much on board both ships. Some

officers entreated me to strike, of whose courage and sense I

entertain a high opinion. I would not, however, give up the point."

Fortunately Landais did not persist in his cowardly attack upon his

friends in the almost sinking ship, but sailed off, and allowed the

"Richard" to continue her life-and-death struggle with her enemy. The

struggle was not now of long duration; for Capt. Pearson, seeing that

his ship was a perfect wreck, and that the fire was gaining head way,

hauled down his colors with his own hands, since none of his men could

be persuaded to brave the fire from the tops of the "Richard."

As the proud emblem of Great Britain fluttered down, Lieut. Richard

Dale turned to Capt. Jones, and asked permission to board the prize.

Receiving an affirmative answer, he jumped on the gunwale, seized the

mainbrace-pendant, and swung himself upon the quarter-deck of the

captured ship. Midshipman Mayrant, with a large party of sailors,

followed. So great was the confusion on the "Serapis," that few of

the Englishmen knew that the ship had been surrendered. As Mayrant

came aboard, he was mistaken for the leader of a boarding-party, and

run through the thigh with a pike.

Capt. Pearson was found standing alone upon the quarter-deck,

contemplating with a sad face the shattered condition of his once

noble ship, and the dead bodies of his brave fellows lying about the

decks. Stepping up to him, Lieut. Dale said,--

"Sir, I have orders to send you on board the ship alongside."

At this moment, the first lieutenant of the "Serapis" came up hastily,

and inquired,--

"Has the enemy struck her flag?"

"No, sir," answered Dale. "On the contrary, you have struck to us."

Turning quickly to his commander, the English lieutenant asked,--

"Have you struck, sir?"

"Yes, I have," was the brief reply.

"I have nothing more to say," remarked the officer, and turning about

was in the act of going below, when Lieut. Dale stopped him, saying,--

"It is my duty to request you, sir, to accompany Capt. Pearson on

board the ship alongside."

"If you will first permit me to go below," responded the other, "I

will silence the firing of the lower deck guns."

"This cannot be permitted," was the response; and, silently bowing his

head, the lieutenant followed his chief to the victorious ship, while

two midshipmen went below to stop the firing.

Lieut. Dale remained in command of the "Serapis." Seating himself on

the binnacle, he ordered the lashings which had bound the two ships

throughout the bloody conflict to be cut. Then the head-sails were

braced back, and the wheel put down. But, as the ship had been

anchored at the beginning of the battle, she refused to answer either

helm or canvas. Vastly astounded at this, Dale leaped from the

binnacle; but his legs refused to support him, and he fell heavily to

the deck. His followers sprang to his aid; and it was found that the

lieutenant had been severely wounded in the leg by a splinter, but had

fought out the battle without ever noticing his hurt.

So ended this memorable battle. But the feelings of pride and

exultation so natural to a victor died away in the breast of the

American captain as he looked about the scene of wreck and carnage. On

all sides lay the mutilated bodies of the gallant fellows who had so

bravely stood to their guns amid the storm of death-dealing missiles.

There they lay, piled one on top of the other,--some with their

agonized writhings caught and fixed by death; others calm and

peaceful, as though sleeping. Powder-boys, young and tender, lay by

the side of grizzled old seamen. Words cannot picture the scene. In

his journal Capt. Jones wrote:--

"A person must have been an eye-witness to form a just idea of the

tremendous scene of carnage, wreck, and ruin that everywhere appeared.

Humanity cannot but recoil from the prospect of such finished horror,

and lament that war should produce such fatal consequences."

But worse than the appearance of the main deck was the scene in the

cock-pit and along the gun-deck, which had been converted into a

temporary hospital. Here lay the wounded, ranged in rows along the

deck. Moans and shrieks of agony were heard on every side. The

surgeons were busy with their glittering instruments. The tramp of men

on the decks overhead, and the creaking of the timbers of the

water-logged ship, added to the cries of the wounded, made a perfect

bedlam of the place.

[Illustration: The Action Between The "Bon Homme Richard" And The

"Serapis," September 23, 1779.]

It did not take long to discover that the "Bon Homme Richard" was a

complete wreck, and in a sinking condition. The gallant old craft had

kept afloat while the battle was being fought; but now, that the

victory had remained with her, she had given up the struggle against

the steadily encroaching waves. The carpenters who had explored the

hold came on deck with long faces, and reported that nothing could be

done to stop the great holes made by the shot of the "Serapis."

Therefore Jones determined to remove his crew and all the wounded to

the "Serapis," and abandon the noble "Richard" to her fate.

Accordingly, all available hands were put at the pumps, and the work

of transferring the wounded was begun. Slings were rigged over the

side; and the poor shattered bodies were gently lowered into the boats

awaiting them, and, on reaching the "Serapis," were placed tenderly in

cots ranged along the main deck. All night the work went on; and by

ten o'clock the next morning there were left on the "Richard" only a

few sailors, who alternately worked at the pumps, and fought the

steadily encroaching flames.

For Jones did not intend to desert the good old ship without a

struggle to save her, even though both fire and water were warring

against her. Not until the morning dawned did the Americans fully

appreciate how shattered was the hulk that stood between them and a

watery grave. Fenimore Cooper, the pioneer historian of the United

States navy, writes:--

"When the day dawned, an examination was made into the situation of

the 'Richard.' Abaft on a line with those guns of the 'Serapis' that

had not been disabled by the explosion, the timbers were found to be

nearly all beaten in, or beaten out,--for in this respect there was

little difference between the two sides of the ship,--and it was said

that her poop and upper decks would have fallen into the gun-room, but

for a few buttocks that had been missed. Indeed, so large was the

vacuum, that most of the shot fired from this part of the 'Serapis,'

at the close of the action, must have gone through the 'Richard'

without touching any thing. The rudder was cut from the stern post,

and the transoms were nearly driven out of her. All the after-part of

the ship, in particular, that was below the quarter-deck was torn to

pieces; and nothing had saved those stationed on the quarter-deck but

the impossibility of sufficiently elevating guns that almost touched

their object."

Despite the terribly shattered condition of the ship, her crew worked

manfully to save her. But, after fighting the flames and working the

pumps all day, they were reluctantly forced to abandon the good ship

to her fate. It was nine o'clock at night, that the hopelessness of

the task became evident. The "Richard" rolled heavily from side to

side. The sea was up to her lower port-holes. At each roll the water

gushed through her port-holes, and swashed through the hatchways. At

ten o'clock, with a last dying surge, the shattered hulk plunged to

her final resting-place, carrying with her the bodies of her dead.

They had died the noblest of all deaths,--the death of a patriot

killed in doing battle for his country. They receive the grandest of

all burials,--the burial of a sailor who follows his ship to her

grave, on the hard, white sand, in the calm depths of the ocean.

How many were there that went down with the ship? History does not

accurately state. Capt. Jones himself was never able to tell how great

was the number of dead upon his ship. The most careful estimate puts

the number at forty-two. Of the wounded on the American ship, there

were about forty. All these were happily removed from the "Richard"

before she sunk.

On the "Serapis" the loss was much greater; but here, too, history is

at fault, in that no official returns of the killed and wounded have

been preserved. Capt. Jones's estimate, which is probably nearly

correct, put the loss of the English ship at about a hundred killed,

and an equal number wounded.

The sinking of the "Richard" left the "Serapis" crowded with wounded

of both nations, prisoners, and the remnant of the crew of the sunken

ship. No time was lost in getting the ship in navigable shape, and in

clearing away the traces of the battle. The bodies of the dead were

thrown overboard. The decks were scrubbed and sprinkled with hot

vinegar. The sound of the hammer and the saw was heard on every hand,

as the carpenters stopped the leaks, patched the deck, and rigged new

spars in place of those shattered by the "Richard's" fire. All three

of the masts had gone by the board. Jury masts were rigged; and with

small sails stretched on these the ship beat about the ocean, the

plaything of the winds. Her consorts had left her. Landais, seeing no

chance to rob Jones of the honor of the victory, had taken the

"Alliance" to other waters. The "Pallas" had been victorious in her

contest with the "Countess of Scarborough;" and, as soon as the issue

of the conflict between the "Bon Homme Richard" and the "Serapis" had

become evident, she made off with her prize, intent upon gaining a

friendly port. The "Richard," after ten days of drifting, finally ran

into Texel, in the north of Holland.

The next year was one of comparative inactivity for Jones. He enjoyed

for a time the praise of all friends of the revolting colonies. He was

the lion of Paris. Then came the investigation into the action of

Landais at the time of the great battle. Though his course at that

time was one of open treachery, inspired by his wish to have Jones

strike to the "Serapis," that he might have the honor of capturing

both ships, Landais escaped any punishment at the hands of his French

compatriots. But he was relieved of the command of the "Alliance,"

which was given to Jones. Highly incensed at this action, the erratic

Frenchman incited the crew of the "Alliance" to open mutiny, and,

taking command of the ship himself, left France and sailed for

America, leaving Commodore Jones in the lurch. On his arrival at

Philadelphia, Landais strove to justify his action by blackening the

character of Jones, but failed in this, and was dismissed the service.

His actions should be regarded with some charity, for the man was

doubtless of unsound mind. His insanity became even more evident after

his dismissal from the navy; and from that time, until the time of his

death, his eccentricities made him generally regarded as one mentally

unsound.

Jones, having lost the "Alliance" by the mutiny of Landais, remained

abroad, waiting for another ship. He travelled widely on the

Continent, and was lavishly entertained by the rich and noble of every

nation. Not until October, 1780, did he again tread the deck of a

vessel under his own command.

The ship which the French Government finally fitted out and put in

command of Paul Jones was the "Ariel," a small twenty-gun ship. This

vessel the adventurous sailor packed full of powder and cannon-balls,

taking only provisions enough for nine weeks, and evidently expecting

to live off the prizes he calculated upon taking. He sailed from

L'Orient on a bright October afternoon, under clear skies, and with a

fair wind, intending to proceed directly to the coast of America. But

the first night out there arose a furious gale. The wind howled

through the rigging, tore the sails from the ring-bolts, snapped the

spars, and seriously wrecked the cordage of the vessel. The great

waves, lashed into fury by the hurricane, smote against the sides of

the little craft as though they would burst through her sheathing. The

ship rolled heavily; and the yards, in their grand sweep from side to

side, often plunged deep into the foaming waves. At last so great

became the strain upon the vessel, that the crew were set to work with

axes to cut away the foremast. Balancing themselves upon the tossing,

slippery deck, holding fast to a rope with one hand, while with the

other they swung the axe, the gallant fellows finally cut so deep into

the heart of the stout spar, that a heavy roll of the ship made it

snap off short, and it fell alongside, where it hung by the cordage.

The wreck was soon cleared away; and as this seemed to ease the ship

somewhat, and as she was drifting about near the dreaded rock of

Penmarque, the anchors were got out. But in the mean time the violent

rolling of the "Ariel" had thrown the heel of the main-mast from the

step; and the heavy mast was reeling about, threatening either to

plough its way upward through the gun-deck, or to crash through the

bottom of the ship. It was determined to cut away this mast; but,

before this could be done, it fell, carrying with it the mizzen-mast,

and crushing in the deck on which it fell. Thus dismasted, the "Ariel"

rode out the gale. All night and all the next day she was tossed about

on the angry waters. Her crew thought that their last hour had surely

come. Over the shrieking of the gale, and the roaring of the waves,

rose that steady, all-pervading sound, which brings horror to the mind

of the sailor,--the dull, monotonous thunder of the breakers on the

reef of Penmarque. But the "Ariel" was not fated to be ground to

pieces on the jagged teeth of the cruel reef. Though she drifted

about, the plaything of the winds and the waves, she escaped the jaws

of Penmarque. Finally the gale subsided; and, with hastily devised

jury-masts, the shattered ship was taken back to L'Orient to refit.

Two months were consumed in the work of getting the shattered vessel

ready for sea. When she again set out, she met with no mishap, until,

when near the American coast, she fell in with a British vessel to

which she gave battle. A sharp action of a quarter of an hour forced

the Englishman to strike his colors; but, while the Americans were

preparing to board the prize, she sailed away, vastly to the chagrin

and indignation of her would-be captors.

The short cruise of the "Ariel" was the last service rendered by Paul

Jones to the American Colonies. On his arrival at Philadelphia, he was

dined and feted to his heart's desire; he received a vote of thanks

from Congress; he became the idol of the populace. But the necessities

of the struggling colonies were such that they were unable to build

for him a proper war-ship, and he remained inactive upon shore until

the close of the Revolution, when he went abroad, and took service

with Russia. He is the one great character in the naval history of the

Revolution. He is the first heroic figure in American naval annals.

Not until years after his death did men begin to know him at his true

worth. He was too often looked upon as a man of no patriotism, but

wholly mercenary; courageous, but only with the daring of a pirate.

Not until he had died a lonely death, estranged from the country he

had so nobly served, did men come to know Paul Jones as a model naval

officer, high-minded in his patriotism, pure in his life, elevated in

his sentiments, and as courageous as a lion.

CHAPTER X.

CAREER OF NICHOLAS BIDDLE. -- HIS EXPLOIT AT LEWISTON JAIL.

-- CRUISE IN THE "RANDOLPH." -- BATTLE WITH THE "YARMOUTH."

-- THE FATAL EXPLOSION. -- SAMUEL TUCKER. -- HIS BOYHOOD. --

ENCOUNTER WITH CORSAIRS. -- CRUISING IN THE "FRANKLIN." --

IN COMMAND OF THE "BOSTON." -- ANECDOTES OF CAPT. TUCKER.

In the career of Paul Jones is to be found the record of the most

stirring events of the Revolution; but there were other commanders in

the young American navy no less daring than he. As the chief naval

representative of the Colonies who cruised in European waters, Jones

achieved a notoriety somewhat out of proportion to his actual

achievements. But other brave seamen did gallant service along the

Atlantic coast for the cause of the struggling nation, and, by their

daring and nautical skill, did much to bring the war of the Revolution

to its happy conclusion.

We abandoned our consideration of the general naval events of the war,

to turn to a recountal of the exploits of Paul Jones at the close of

the year 1776. Hostilities on the water during that year were confined

to sharp, but short, actions between small men-of-war or privateers.

The Americans lacked the discipline and experience necessary to win

for themselves any great reputation on the water. Though they showed

themselves full of dash and spirit, they were deficient in discipline

and staying qualities. Nevertheless, the record of the year was by no

means discreditable to so young a naval organization.

Aside from the naval operations on the ocean, the year 1776 had seen

the thick clouds of gunpowder-smoke floating across the placid surface

of Lake Champlain, while the wooded hills that surrounded that lake

and Lake George more than once resounded with thunderous tones of

cannon. The hostile meetings of the English and Americans on the

interior lakes are hardly to be classed as naval engagements. The

vessels were chiefly gondolas and galleys, and many of their crews had

never seen salt water. On the British side the forces were more

considerable. In October, 1776, the British had on Lake Champlain at

least one full-rigged ship; and their schooners and galleys were all

manned by trained sailors, drafted from men-of-war laid up in the St.

Lawrence. This force was under the command of Capt. Douglass of the

frigate "Isis." The Americans, on the contrary, had manned their fleet

with recruits from the army; and the forces were under the command of

an army-officer, Gen. Benedict Arnold, the story of whose later

treachery is familiar to every American. It was late in October that

the two hostile fleets met in deadly conflict, and a few short hours

were enough to prove to the Americans that they were greatly

overmatched. Such of their vessels as were not sunk were captured and

burned by the enemy; while their crews escaped into the woods, and

ultimately rejoined Arnold's army, from which they had been drafted.

We pass thus hastily over the so-called naval operations on Lake

Champlain, because they were properly not naval operations at all, but

merely incidents in the shore campaign. The fact that a few soldiers

hastily build a small flotilla, and with it give battle to an enemy on

the water, does not in any sense constitute a naval battle.

The year 1777 witnessed many notable naval events. Hostilities along

the seaboard became more lively. New vessels were put into commission.

England despatched a larger naval armament to crush her rebellious

colonies. The records of the admiralty show, that at the beginning of

that year Parliament voted to the navy forty-five thousand men. The

Americans were able to array against this huge force only some four

thousand, scattered upon thirteen small vessels-of-war.

One of the first ships to get to sea in this year was the "Randolph:"

a new frigate commanded by Nicholas Biddle, who thus early in the war

had won the confidence of the people and the naval authorities. In

command of the little cruiser "Andrea Doria," Biddle had cruised off

the coast of Newfoundland in 1776. His success upon that cruise has

already been noted.

Biddle was a man possessing to the fullest degree that primary

qualification of a good naval officer,--an indomitable will. In

illustration of his determination, a story is related concerning an

incident that occurred just as the "Andrea Doria" had left the Capes

of the Delaware. Two of her crew had deserted, and, being apprehended

by the authorities on shore, were lodged in Lewiston jail. But the

sheriff and his deputies found it easier to turn the key on the

fugitive tars, than to keep them in control while they lay in durance

vile. Gathering all the benches, chairs, and tables that lay about the

jail,--for the lockup of those days was not the trim affair of steel

and iron seen to-day,--the unrepentant jackies built for themselves a

barricade, and, snugly entrenched behind it, shouted out bold defiance

to any and all who should come to take them. The jail authorities had

committed the foolish error of neglecting to disarm the prisoners when

they were captured; and, as each had a brace of ugly pistols in his

belt, the position of the two behind their barricade was really one of

considerable strength. The prison officials dared not attempt to

dislodge the warlike tars. The militia company of the town was ordered

to the scene, but even this body of soldiery dared not force the

prison door. Accordingly they determined to let time do the work, and

starve the rogues out of their retreat. At this juncture Capt. Biddle

came ashore. He had no intention of letting his trim ship lie idly in

the offing while two mutinous blue-jackets were slowly starved into

subjection. The "Andrea Doria" needed the men, and there must be no

more delay. A captain in the American navy was not to be defied by two

of his own people.

Therefore, seizing a loaded pistol in each hand, Capt. Biddle walked

to the prison, accompanied only by a young midshipman. As the two

pounded upon the heavy barred door, the crowd outside fell back,

expecting the bullets to fly.

"Open this door, Green," shouted Biddle to one of the prisoners, whom

he knew by name.

"Try to open it yourself," came the reply from within, with an

accompanying oath. "The first man that shows his head inside this door

gets a bullet."

Green was known as a bold, desperate man; but Biddle did not hesitate

a moment. Ordering the bystanders to break down the door, he waited

quietly, until a crash, and the sudden scattering of the crowd, gave

notice that the way into the prison was clear. Then gripping his

pistols tightly, but with his arms hanging loosely at his sides, he

advanced upon the deserters. Behind the barricade stood Green, his

eyes blazing with rage, his pistol levelled. Biddle faced him quietly.

"Now, Green, if you don't take a good aim, you are a dead man," said

he.

With a muttered curse, the mutineer dropped his weapon. The cool

determination of the captain awed him. In a few minutes he, with his

companion, was on his way to the ship in irons.

It was in February, 1777, that the stanch new frigate "Randolph," with

Biddle in command, set sail from Philadelphia. Hardly had she reached

the high seas when a terrific gale set in, from which the "Randolph"

emerged, shorn of her tapering masts. As she lay a helpless wreck

tossing on the waves, the hard work necessary to put her in decent

shape again induced Biddle to accede to the request of a number of

British prisoners on board, who wished to be enrolled among the crew

of the "Randolph." This proved to be an unfortunate move; for the

Englishmen were no sooner enrolled on the ship's list than they began

plotting mutiny, and the uprising reached such a stage that they

assembled on the gun-deck, and gave three cheers. But the firm and

determined stand of the captain and his officers overawed the

mutineers, and they returned to their places after the ringleaders had

been made to suffer at the gratings. But the spirit of disaffection

rife amid his crew, and the crippled condition of his ship, determined

Biddle to proceed forthwith to Charleston to refit.

But a few days were spent in port. Getting to sea again, the

"Randolph" fell in with the "True Briton," a twenty-gun ship, flying

the British colors. Though the captain of the "True Briton" had often

boasted of what he would do should he encounter the "Randolph," his

courage then failed him, and he fled. The "Randolph" gave chase, and,

proving to be a speedy ship, soon overhauled the prize, which struck

without waiting for a volley. Three other vessels that had been

cruising with the "True Briton" were also captured, and with her rich

prizes the "Randolph" returned proudly to Charleston. Here her

usefulness ceased for a time; for a superior force of British

men-of-war appeared off the harbor, and by them the "Randolph" was

blockaded for the remainder of the season.

Early in 1778 Biddle again took the sea with the "Randolph," supported

this time by four small vessels, fitted out by the South Carolina

authorities. They were the "Gen. Moultrie," eighteen guns; the

"Polly," sixteen; the "Notre Dame," sixteen; and the "Fair American,"

sixteen. With this force Capt. Biddle set out in search of a British

squadron known to be cruising thereabouts, and probably the same

vessels that had kept him a prisoner during so much of the previous

year.

On the 7th of March, 1778, the lookouts on the smaller vessels saw a

signal thrown out from the masthead of the "Randolph," which announced

a sail in sight. Chase was at once given; and by four o'clock she was

near enough for the Americans to see that she was a large ship, and

apparently a man-of-war. About eight o'clock the stranger was near

enough the squadron for them to make out that she was a heavy frigate.

The Englishman was not slow to suspect the character of the vessels

with which he had fallen in, and firing a shot across the bows of the

"Moultrie," demanded her name.

"The 'Polly' of New York," was the response.

Leaving the "Moultrie" unmolested, the stranger ranged up alongside

the "Randolph," and ordered her to show her colors. This Biddle

promptly did; and as the American flag went fluttering to the fore,

the ports of the "Randolph" were thrown open, and a broadside poured

into the hull of the Englishman. The stranger was not slow in

replying, and the action became hot and deadly. Capt. Biddle was

wounded in the thigh early in the battle. As he fell to the deck, his

officers crowded about him, thinking that he was killed; but he

encouraged them to return to their posts, and, ordering a chair to be

placed on the quarter-deck, remained on deck, giving orders, and

cheering on his men. It is said that Capt. Biddle was wounded by a

shot from the "Moultrie," which flew wide of its intended mark.

For twenty minutes the battle raged, and there was no sign of

weakening on the part of either contestant. Suddenly the sound of the

cannonade was deadened by a thunderous roar. The people on the other

ships saw a huge column of fire and smoke rise where the "Randolph"

had floated. The English vessel was thrown violently on her beam-ends.

The sky was darkened with flying timbers and splinters, which fell

heavily into the sea. The "Randolph" had blown up. A spark, a red-hot

shot, some fiery object, had penetrated her magazine, and she was

annihilated.

The horrible accident which destroyed the "Randolph" came near being

the end of the "Yarmouth," her antagonist. The two battling ships were

close together; so close, in fact, that after the explosion Capt.

Morgan of the "Fair American" hailed the "Yarmouth" to ask how Capt.

Biddle was. The English ship was fairly covered with bits of the

flying wreck. Some heavy pieces of timber falling from the skies badly

shattered her main-deck. An American ensign, closely rolled up, fell

on her forecastle, not even singed by the fiery ordeal through which

it had passed.

The "Yarmouth" wasted little time in wonder over the fate of her late

antagonist. In all the mass of floating wreckage that covered the sea,

there appeared to be no living thing. The four smaller American

vessels, dismayed by the fate of their consort, were making good their

escape. Without more ado, the "Yarmouth" set out in chase.

Four days later, the Americans having escaped, the "Yarmouth" was

again cruising near the scene of the action. A raft was discovered on

the ocean, which seemed to support some living creatures. Running down

upon it, four wretched, emaciated men were discovered clinging to a

piece of wreckage, and wildly waving for assistance. They were taken

aboard the British man-of-war, and given food and drink, of both of

which they partook greedily; for their sole sustenance during the four

days for which they clung to their frail raft was rain-water sucked

from a piece of blanket.

So died Capt. Nicholas Biddle, blown to atoms by the explosion of his

ship in the midst of battle. Though but a young officer, not having

completed his twenty-seventh year, he left an enduring name in the

naval annals of his country. Though his service was short, the fame he

won was great.

Among the more notable commanders who did good service on the sea was

Capt. Samuel Tucker, who was put in command of the frigate "Boston" in

the latter part of the year 1777. Tucker was an old and tried seaman,

and is furthermore one of the most picturesque figures in the naval

history of the Revolution. He first showed his love for the sea in the

way that Yankee boys from time immemorial have shown it,--by running

away from home, and shipping as a cabin-boy. The ship which he chose

was the British sloop-of-war "Royal George," and the boy found himself

face to face with the rigid naval discipline of the British service at

that time. But he stuck manfully to the career he had chosen, and

gradually mastered not only the details of a seaman's duty, but much

of the art of navigation; so that when finally he got his discharge

from the "Royal George," he shipped as second mate on a Salem

merchantman. It was on his first voyage in this capacity that he first

showed the mettle that was in him. Two Algerine corsairs, their decks

crowded with men, their long low hulls cleaving the waves like

dolphins, had given chase to the merchantman. The captain of the

threatened ship grew faint-hearted: he sought courage in liquor, and

soon became unable to manage his vessel. Tucker took the helm. He saw

that there was no chance of escape in flight, for the corsairs were

too fleet. There was no hope of victory in a battle, for the pirates

were too strong. But the trim New England schooner minded her helm

better than her lanteen-rigged pursuers, and this fact Tucker put to

good account.

Putting his helm hard down, he headed the schooner directly for the

piratical craft. By skilful manoeuvring, he secured such a position

that either pirate, by firing upon him, was in danger of firing into

his fellow corsair. This position he managed to maintain until

nightfall, when he slipped away, and by daylight was snugly at anchor

in the port of Lisbon.

For some time after this episode, the record of Tucker's seafaring

life is lost. Certain it is that he served in the British navy as an

officer for some time, and was master of a merchantman for several

years.

When the Revolution broke out, Samuel Tucker was in London. Being

offered by a recruiting officer a commission in either the army or

navy, if he would consent to serve "his gracious Majesty," Tucker very

rashly responded, "Hang his gracious Majesty! Do you think I would

serve against my country?"

Soon a hue and cry was out for Tucker. He was charged with treason,

and fled into the country to the house of a tavern-keeper whom he

knew, who sheltered him until he could make his escape from England.

Hardly had he arrived in America, when Gen. Washington commissioned

him captain of the "Franklin," and instructed him to proceed directly

to sea. An express with the commission and instructions was hurried

off to Marblehead, then a straggling little city. He was instructed to

find the "Hon. Samuel Tucker," and to deliver to him the packets in

his charge. When the messenger arrived, Tucker was working in his

yard. The messenger saw a rough-looking person, roughly clad, with a

tarpaulin hat, and his neck bound with a flaming red bandanna

handkerchief. Never once thinking this person could be the man he

sought, he leaned from his horse, and shouted out roughly,--

"I say, fellow, I wish you would tell me whether the Hon. Samuel

Tucker lives hereabouts."

Tucker looked up with a quizzical smile, and surveyed the speaker from

under the wide rim of his tarpaulin, as he answered,--

"Honorable, honorable! There's none of that name in Marblehead. He

must be one of the Tuckers in Salem. I'm the only Samuel Tucker here."

"Capt. Glover told me he knew him," responded the messenger, "and

described his house, gable-end on the seaside, none near it. Faith,

this looks like the very place!"

With a laugh, Tucker then confessed his identity, and asked the

messenger his business. Receiving the commission and instructions, he

at once began his preparations for leaving home, and at daybreak the

next morning was on his way to Beverly, where lay anchored the first

ship he was to command in the service of his country.

In the "Franklin" Capt. Tucker did some most efficient work. His name

appears constantly in the letters of Gen. Washington, and in the State

papers making up the American archives, as having sent in valuable

prizes. At one time we read of the capture of "a brigantine from

Scotland, worth fifteen thousand pounds sterling;" again, of six

gunboats, and of brigs laden with wine and fruit. During the year

1776, he took not less than thirty--and probably a few more--ships,

brigs, and smaller vessels. Nor were all these vessels taken without

some sharp fighting.

Of one battle Tucker himself speaks in one of his letters. First

telling how his wife made the colors for his ship, "the field of which

was white, and the union was green, made of cloth of her own

purchasing, and at her own expense," he goes on to write of one of his

battles:--

"Those colors I wore in honor of the country,--which has so nobly

rewarded me for my past services,--and the love of their maker, until

I fell in with Col. Archibald Campbell in the ship "George," and brig

"Arabella," transports with about two hundred and eighty Highland

troops on board, of Gen. Frazer's corps. About ten P.M. a severe

conflict ensued, which held about two hours and twenty minutes. I

conquered them with great carnage on their side, it being in the

night, and my small bark, about seventy tons burden, being very low in

the water, I received no damage in loss of men, but lost a complete

set of new by the passing of their balls; then the white field and

pine-tree union were riddled to atoms. I was then immediately supplied

with a new suit of sails, and a new suit of colors, made of canvas and

bunting of my own prize-goods."

Another time, during the same year, Tucker took two British ships near

Marblehead. So near was the scene of action to the house of Capt.

Tucker, that his wife and her sister, hearing the sound of

cannonading, ascended a high hill in the vicinity, and from that point

viewed the action through a spy-glass.

Capt. Tucker kept the sea in the "Franklin" until late in the winter.

When finally the cold weather and high winds forced him to put his

ship out of commission, he went to his home at Marblehead. He remained

there but a short time; for in March, 1777, he was put in command of

the "Boston," a frigate of twenty-four guns. In this vessel he cruised

during the year with varying success.

Feb. 10, 1778, Capt. Tucker was ordered to carry the Hon. John Adams

to France, as envoy from the United States. The voyage was full of

incidents. Feeling impressed with the gravity of the charge laid upon

him, Capt. Tucker chose a course which he hoped would enable him to

steer clear of the horde of British men-of-war which then infested

the American coast. But in so doing he fell in with a natural enemy,

which came near proving fatal. A terrific thunderstorm, gradually

growing into a tornado, crossed the path of the ship. The ocean was

lashed into waves mountain high. The crash of the thunder rent the

sky. A stroke of lightning struck the main-mast, and ripped up the

deck, narrowly missing the magazine. The ship sprung a leak; and the

grewsome sound of the pumps mingled with the roar of the waves, and

the shrieking of the winds. For several days the stormy weather

continued. Then followed a period of calm, which the captain well

employed in repairing the rigging, and exercising the men with the

guns and small-arms. Many ships had been sighted, and some, evidently

men-of-war, had given chase; but the "Boston" succeeded in showing

them all a clean pair of heels.

"What would you do," said Mr. Adams one day, as he stood with the

captain watching three ships that were making desperate efforts to

overhaul the "Boston," "if you could not escape, and they should

attack you?"

"As the first is far in advance of the others, I should carry her by

boarding, leading the boarders myself," was the response. "I should

take her; for no doubt a majority of her crew, being pressed men,

would turn to and join me. Having taken her, I should be matched, and

could fight the other two."

Such language as this coming from many men would be considered mere

foolhardy boasting. But Tucker was a man not given to brag. Indeed, he

was apt to be very laconic in speaking of his exploits. A short time

after his escape from the three ships, he fell in with an English

armed vessel of no small force, and captured her. His only comment on

the action in his journal reads, "I fired a gun, and they returned

three; and down went the colors."

John Adams, however, told a more graphic story of this capture.

Tucker, as soon as he saw an armed vessel in his path, hastily called

his crew to order, and bore down upon her. When the roll of the drum,

calling the people to quarters, resounded through the ship, Mr. Adams

seized a musket, and took his stand with the marines. Capt. Tucker,

seeing him there, requested him to go below, and upon his desire being

disregarded, put his hand upon the envoy's shoulder, and in a tone of

authority said,--

"Mr. Adams, I am commanded by the Continental Congress to deliver you

safe in France, and you must go below."

The envoy smilingly complied, and just at that moment the enemy let

fly her broadside. The shot flew through the rigging, doing but little

damage. Though the guns of the "Boston" were shotted, and the gunners

stood at their posts with smoking match-stocks, Capt. Tucker gave no

order to fire, but seemed intent upon the manoeuvres of the ships. The

eager blue-jackets begun to murmur, and the chorus of questions and

oaths was soon so great that the attention of Tucker was attracted. He

looked at the row of eager faces on the gun-deck, and shouted out,--

"Hold on, my men! I wish to save that egg without breaking the shell."

Soon after, Tucker brought his broadside to bear on the stern of the

enemy, and she struck without more ado. She proved to be an armed

ship, the "Martha."

After this encounter, nothing more of moment occurred on the voyage;

and the "Boston" reached Bordeaux, and landed her distinguished

passenger in safety. Two months later she left Bordeaux, in company

with a fleet of twenty sail, one of which was the "Ranger," formerly

commanded by Paul Jones. With these vessels he cruised for a time in

European waters, but returned to the American coast in the autumn. His

services for the rest of that year, and the early part of 1779, we

must pass over hastily, though many were the prizes that fell into his

clutches.

Many anecdotes are told of Tucker. His shrewdness, originality, and

daring made him a favorite theme for story-tellers. But, unhappily,

the anecdotes have generally no proof of their truth. One or two,

however, told by Capt. Tucker's biographer, Mr. John H. Sheppard, will

not be out of place here.

In one the story is told that Tucker fell in with a British frigate

which he knew to be sent in search of him. Showing the English flag,

he sailed boldly towards the enemy, and in answer to her hail said he

was Capt. Gordon of the English navy, out in search of the "Boston,"

commanded by the rebel Tucker.

"I'll carry him to New York, dead or alive," said Tucker.

"Have you seen him?" was asked.

"Well, I've heard of him," was the response; "and they say he is a

hard customer."

All this time Tucker had been manoeuvring to secure a raking

position. Behind the closed ports of the "Boston," the men stood at

their guns, ready for the word of command. Just as the American had

secured the position desired, a sailor in the tops of the British

vessel cried out,--

"That is surely Tucker; we shall have a devil of a smell directly."

Hearing this, Tucker ordered the American flag hoisted, and the ports

thrown open. Hailing his astonished foe, he cried,--

"The time I proposed talking with you is ended. This is the 'Boston,'

frigate. I am Samuel Tucker, but no rebel. Fire, or strike your flag."

The Englishman saw he had no alternative but to strike. This he did

without firing a gun. The vessel, though not named in the anecdote,

was probably the "Pole," of the capture of which Tucker frequently

speaks in his letters.

Of the part Tucker played in the siege of Charleston, of his capture

there by the British, and of his exchange, we shall speak later. At

that disaster four American frigates were lost: so many of the best

naval officers were thrown out of employment. Among them was Tucker;

but ever anxious for active service, he obtained the sloop-of-war

"Thorn," which he himself had captured, and went out as a privateer.

In this vessel he saw some sharp service. One engagement was thus

described to Mr. Sheppard by a marine named Everett who was on

board:--

"We had been cruising about three weeks when we fell in with an

English packet of twenty-two guns and one hundred men. Not long after

she was discovered, the commodore called up his crew, and said, 'She

means to fight us; and if we go alongside like men, she is ours in

thirty minutes, but if we can't go as men we have no business here.'

He then told them he wanted no cowards on deck, and requested those

who were willing to fight to go down the starboard, and those who were

unwilling the larboard gangway. Every man and boy took the first,

signifying his willingness to meet the enemy.

"As Mr. Everett was passing by, the commodore asked him,--

"'Are you willing to go alongside of her?'

"'Yes, sir,' was the reply.

"In mentioning this conversation, however, Mr. Everett candidly

confessed, 'I did not tell him the truth, for I would rather have been

in my father's cornfield.'

"After the commanders of these two vessels, as they drew near, had

hailed each other in the customary way when ships meet at sea, the

captain of the English packet cried out roughly from the

quarter-deck,--

"'Haul down your colors, or I'll sink you!'

"'Ay, ay, sir; directly,' answered Tucker calmly. And he then ordered

the helmsman to steer the 'Thorn' right under the stern of the packet,

luff up under her lee quarters, and range alongside of her. The order

was promptly executed. The two vessels were laid side by side, within

pistol shot of each other. While the 'Thorn' was getting into

position, the enemy fired a full broadside at her which did but little

damage. As soon as she was brought completely alongside her adversary,

Tucker thundered out to his men to fire, and a tremendous discharge

followed; and, as good aim had been taken, a dreadful carnage was seen

in that ill-fated vessel. It was rapidly succeeded by a fresh volley

of artillery, and in twenty-seven minutes a piercing cry was heard

from the English vessel: 'Quarters, for God's sake! Our ship is

sinking. Our men are dying of their wounds.'

"To this heart-rending appeal Capt. Tucker exclaimed,--

"'How can you expect quarters while that British flag is flying?'

"The sad answer came back, 'Our halliards are shot away.'

"'Then cut away your ensign staff, or ye'll all be dead men.'

"It was done immediately. Down came the colors, the din of cannonading

ceased, and only the groans of the wounded and dying were heard.

"Fifteen men, with carpenters, surgeon, and their leader, were quickly

on the deck of the prize. Thirty-four of her crew, with her captain,

were either killed or wounded. Her decks were besmeared with blood,

and in some places it stood in clotted masses to the tops of the

sailors' slippers. The gloomy but needful work of amputating limbs,

and laying out the dead, was begun; and every effort was made to

render the wounded prisoners as comfortable as possible."

Here we must take leave of Commodore Tucker and his exploits. As a

privateersman, he continued to do daring work to the end of the war.

He fought at least one more bloody action. He was captured once and

escaped. But the recountal of his romantic career must now yield to

our chronological survey of the lesser naval events of the Revolution.

CHAPTER XI.

HOSTILITIES IN 1777. -- AMERICAN REVERSES. -- THE BRITISH IN

PHILADELPHIA. -- THE ATTACK UPON FORT MIFFLIN. -- CRUISE OF

THE "RALEIGH" AND THE "ALFRED." -- TORPEDO WARFARE. -- THE

BATTLE OF THE KEGS.

We have now heard of the exploits of some of the chief naval leaders

of the war of the Revolution. But there were many dashing engagements

in which the great commanders took no part, and many important

captures made by vessels sailing under the flags of the individual

colonies, which deserve attention.

The American cause on the water suffered some rather severe reverses

in the early part of 1777. In March, the brig "Cabot" fell in with the

British frigate "Milford," and was so hard pressed that she was run

ashore on the coast of Nova Scotia. The crew had hardly time to get

ashore before the British took possession of the stranded craft. The

Americans were left helpless, in a wild and little settled country,

but finally made their way through the woods to a harbor. Here they

found a coasting schooner lying at anchor, upon which they promptly

seized, and in which they escaped to Portsmouth. In the mean time, the

British had got the "Cabot" afloat again.

Two months later, or in the early part of May, two United States

vessels, the "Hancock" thirty-two, Capt. Manly, and the "Boston"

twenty-four, Capt. Hector McNeil, sailed in company from Boston. When

a few days out, a strange sail was sighted, and proved to be a

British frigate. The "Hancock" soon came near enough to her to

exchange broadsides, as the two vessels were going on opposite tacks.

The enemy, however, seemed anxious to avoid a conflict, and exerted

every effort to escape. Manly, having great confidence in the speed of

his ship, gave chase. Calling the people from the guns, he bade them

make a leisurely breakfast, and get ready for the work before them.

The "Hancock" soon overhauled the chase, which began firing her guns

as fast as they would bear. The Americans, however, made no response

until fairly alongside, when they let fly a broadside with ringing

cheers. The action lasted for an hour and a half before the enemy

struck. She proved to be the "Fox," twenty-eight. She was badly cut up

by the American fire, and had thirty-two dead and wounded men on

board. The loss on the "Hancock" amounted to only eight men. In this

running fight the "Boston" was hopelessly distanced, coming up just in

time to fire a gun as the British ensign came fluttering from the

peak.

Putting a prize crew on the "Fox," the three vessels continued their

cruise. A week passed, and no sail was seen. Somewhat rashly Capt.

Manly turned his ship's prow toward Halifax, then, as now, the chief

British naval station on the American coast. When the three ships

appeared off the entrance to the harbor of Halifax, the British

men-of-war inside quickly spied them, raised anchor, and came crowding

out in hot pursuit. There was the "Rainbow" forty-four, the "Flora"

thirty-two, and the "Victor" eighteen, besides two others whose names

could not be ascertained. The Americans saw that they had stirred up a

nest of hornets, and sought safety in flight. The three British

vessels whose names are given gave chase. The "Boston," by her swift

sailing, easily kept out of the reach of the enemy. The "Fox,"

however, was quickly overhauled by the "Flora," and struck her flag

after exchanging a few broadsides. The "Hancock" for a time seemed

likely to escape, but at last the "Rainbow" began gradually to

overhaul her. Capt. Manly, finding escape impossible, began

manoeuvring with the intention of boarding his powerful adversary; but

the light winds made this impossible, and he suddenly found himself

under the guns of the "Rainbow," with the "Victor" astern, in a raking

position. Seeing no hope for success in so unequal a conflict, Manly

struck his flag. In the mean time the "Boston" had calmly proceeded

upon her way, leaving her consorts to their fate. For having thus

abandoned his superior officer, Capt. McNeil was dismissed the service

upon his return to Boston.

These losses were to some degree offset by the good fortune of the

"Trumbull," twenty-eight, in command of Capt. Saltonstall. She left

New York in April of this year, and had been on the water but a few

days when she fell in with two British armed vessels of no

inconsiderable force. The Englishmen, confident of their ability to

beat off the cruiser, made no effort to avoid a conflict. Capt.

Saltonstall, by good seamanship, managed to put his vessel between the

two hostile ships, and then worked both batteries with such vigor,

that, after half-an-hour's fighting, the enemy was glad to strike. In

this action the Americans lost seven men killed, and eight wounded.

The loss of the enemy was not reported. This capture was of the

greatest importance to the American cause, for the two prizes were

loaded with military and naval stores.

During the year 1777, the occupation of Philadelphia by the British

army, under Gen. Howe, led to some activity on the part of the

American navy. While Philadelphia had been in the possession of the

Continentals, it had been a favorite naval rendezvous. Into the broad

channel of the Delaware the American cruisers had been accustomed to

retreat when the British naval force along the coast became

threateningly active. At the broad wharves of Philadelphia, the

men-of-war laid up to have necessary repairs made. In the rope-walks

of the town, the cordage for the gallant Yankee ships was spun. In the

busy shipyards along the Delaware, many of the frigates, provided for

by the Act of 1775, were built.

In the summer of 1777 all this was changed. Sir William Howe, at the

head of an irresistible army, marched upon Philadelphia; and,

defeating the American army at Brandywine, entered the city in

triumph. The privateers and men-of-war scattered hastily, to avoid

capture. Most of them fled down the Delaware; but a few, chiefly

vessels still uncompleted, ascended the river.

To cut off these vessels, the British immediately commenced the

erection of batteries to command the channel of the river, and prevent

any communication between the American vessels above and below

Philadelphia. To check the erection of these batteries, the American

vessels "Delaware" twenty-four, and "Andrea Doria" fourteen, together

with one or two vessels flying the Pennsylvania flag, took up a

position before the incomplete earthworks, and opened a heavy fire

upon the soldiers employed in the trenches. So accurate was the aim of

the American gunners, that work on the batteries was stopped. But,

unluckily, the commander of the "Delaware," Capt. Alexander, had

failed to reckon on the swift outflowing of the tide; and just as the

sailors on that ship were becoming jubilant over the prospect of a

victory, a mighty quiver throughout the ship told that she had been

left on a shoal by the ebb tide. The enemy was not long in discovering

the helpless condition of the "Delaware;" and field-pieces and

siege-guns were brought down to the river-bank, until the luckless

Americans saw themselves commanded by a heavy battery. In this unhappy

predicament there was no course remaining but to strike their flag.

Though the British had possession of Philadelphia, and virtually

controlled the navigation of the river at that point, the Americans

still held powerful positions at Red Bank and at Fort Mifflin, lower

down the river. Against the former post the British sent an

unsuccessful land expedition of Hessians, but against Fort Mifflin a

naval expedition was despatched.

Fort Mifflin was built on a low marshy island near the mouth of the

Schuylkill. Its very situation, surrounded as it was by mud and water,

made it impregnable to any land attack. While the fort itself was a

fairly strong earthwork, laid out upon approved principles of

engineering, its outer works of defence added greatly to its strength.

In the main channels of the river were sunk heavy, sharp-pointed

_chevaux de frise_, or submarine palisades, with sharp points

extending just above the surface of the water. In addition to this

obstacle, the enemy advancing by water upon the fort would have to

meet the American flotilla, which, though composed of small craft

only, was large enough to prove very annoying to an enemy. In this

flotilla were thirteen galleys, one carrying a thirty-two pounder, and

the rest with varying weight of ordnance; twenty-six half-galleys,

each carrying a four-pounder; two xebecs, each with two

twenty-four-pounders in the bow, two eighteen-pounders in the stern,

and four nine-pounders in the waist; two floating batteries, fourteen

fire-ships, one schooner-galley, one brig-galley, one provincial ship,

and the brig "Andrea Doria." It was no small naval force that the

British had to overcome before attacking the mud ramparts and bastions

of Fort Mifflin.

Against this armament the British brought a number of vessels, with

the "Augusta," sixty-four, in the lead. The battle was begun late in

the afternoon of the 22d of October, 1777. The attack of the Hessians

upon the American fortifications at Red Bank, and the opening of the

action between the British and American fleets, were simultaneous. The

Hessians were beaten back with heavy loss, some of the American

vessels opening fire upon them from the river. The naval battle lasted

but a short time that night, owing to the darkness. When the battle

ended for the night, the "Augusta," and the "Merlin," sloop-of-war,

were left hard and fast aground.

The next morning the British advanced again to the attack. The

skirmish of the night before had shown them that the Yankee flotilla

was no mean adversary; and they now brought up re-inforcements, in the

shape of the "Roebuck" forty-four, "Isis" thirty-two, "Pearl"

thirty-two, and "Liverpool" twenty-eight. No sooner had the British

squadron come within range than a heavy fire was opened upon the fort.

The American flotilla was prompt to answer the challenge, and soon the

action became general. Time and time again the Americans sent huge

fire-ships, their well-tarred spars and rigging blazing fiercely, down

among the enemy. But the skill and activity of the British sailors

warded off this danger. Thereupon the Americans, seeing that they

could not rely upon their fire-ships, changed their plan of action.

Any one of the British vessels was more than a match for the largest

American craft, so the Yankees saw they must rely upon force of

numbers. Accordingly their larger vessels were each assigned to attack

one of the enemy; while the swift-sailing galleys plied to and fro in

the battle, lending aid where needed, and striking a blow wherever the

opportunity offered itself. This course of action soon began to tell

upon the British. All of their vessels began to show the effects of

the American fire. The "Augusta" was in flames, owing to some pressed

hay that had been packed upon her quarter having been set on fire.

Despite the efforts of her crew, the flames spread rapidly. Seeing no

chance to save the vessel, the crew abandoned her, and sought to gain

the protection of other vessels of the British fleet. But the other

ships, seeing the flames on the "Augusta" drawing closer and closer

to the magazine, and knowing that her explosion in that narrow and

crowded channel would work dreadful damage among them, determined to

abandon the attack upon Fort Mifflin, and withdrew. The "Merlin,"

which was hard and fast aground, was fired, and the British fled. As

they turned their ships' prows down the Delaware, the dull sullen roar

of an explosion told that the "Augusta" had met her end. Soon after

the "Merlin" blew up, and the defeat of the British was complete.

But, though worsted in this attack upon Fort Mifflin, the British did

not wholly abandon their designs upon it. Immediately upon their

repulse, they began their preparations for a second attack. This time

they did not propose to rely upon men-of-war alone. Batteries were

built upon every point of land within range of Fort Mifflin. Floating

batteries were built, and towed into position. By the 10th of November

all was ready, and upon that day a tremendous cannonade was opened

upon the American works. After two days of ceaseless bombardment, the

garrison of the fort was forced to surrender. Since the fall of Fort

Mifflin gave the control of the Delaware to the British, the Americans

immediately put the torch to the "Andrea Doria" fourteen, the "Wasp"

eight, and the "Hornet" ten; while the galleys skulked away along the

Jersey coast, in search of places of retreat.

While the Yankee tars on river and harbor duty were thus getting their

share of fighting, there was plenty of daring work being done on the

high seas. One of the most important cruises of the year was that of

the "Raleigh" and the "Alfred." The "Raleigh" was one of the

twelve-pounder frigates built under the naval Act of 1775. With her

consort the "Alfred," she left the American coast in the summer of

1777, bound for France, in search of naval stores that were there

awaiting transportation to the United States. Both vessels were

short-handed.

On the 2d of September the two vessels overhauled and captured the

snow "Nancy," from England, bound for the West Indies. Her captain

reported that he had sailed from the West Indies with a fleet of sixty

merchantmen, under the convoy of four small men-of-war, the "Camel,"

the "Druid," the "Weasel," and the "Grasshopper." The poor sailing

qualities of the "Nancy" had forced her to drop behind, and the fleet

was then about a day in advance of her.

Crowding on all canvas, the two American ships set out in hot pursuit.

From the captain of the "Nancy" Capt. Thompson of the "Raleigh" had

obtained all the signals in use in the fleet of Indiamen. The next

morning the fleet was made out; and the "Raleigh" and the "Alfred"

exchanged signals, as though they were part of the convoy. They hung

about the outskirts of the fleet until dark, planning, when the night

should fall, to make a dash into the enemy's midst, and cut out the

chief armed vessel.

But at nightfall the wind changed, so that the plan of the Americans

was defeated. At daylight, however, the wind veered round and

freshened, so that the "Raleigh," crowding on more sail, was soon in

the very centre of the enemy's fleet. The "Alfred," unfortunately,

being unable to carry so great a spread of canvas, was left behind;

and the "Raleigh" remained to carry out alone her daring adventure.

The "Raleigh" boldly steered straight into the midst of the British

merchantmen, exchanging signals with some, and hailing others. Her

ports were lowered, and her guns on deck housed, so that there

appeared about her nothing to indicate her true character. Having

cruised about amid the merchantmen, she drew up alongside the nearest

man-of-war, and when within pistol-shot, suddenly ran up her flag,

threw open her ports, and commanded the enemy to strike.

All was confusion on board the British vessel. Her officers had never

for a moment suspected the "Raleigh" of being other than one of their

own fleet. While they stood aghast, not even keeping the vessel on her

course, the "Raleigh" poured in a broadside. The British responded

faintly with a few guns. Deliberately the Americans let fly another

broadside, which did great execution. The enemy were driven from their

guns, but doggedly refused to strike, holding out, doubtless, in the

hope that the cannonade might draw to their assistance some of the

other armed ships accompanying the fleet.

While the unequal combat was raging, a heavy squall came rushing over

the water. The driving sheets of rain shut in the combatants, and only

by the thunders of the cannonade could the other vessels tell that a

battle was being fought in their midst.

When the squall had passed by, the affrighted merchantmen were seen

scudding in every direction, like a school of flying-fish into whose

midst some rapacious shark or dolphin has intruded himself. But the

three men-of-war, with several armed West-Indiamen in their wake, were

fast bearing down upon the combatants, with the obvious intention of

rescuing their comrade, and punishing the audacious Yankee.

The odds against Thompson were too great; and after staying by his

adversary until the last possible moment, and pouring broadside after

broadside into her, he abandoned the fight and rejoined the "Alfred."

The two ships hung on the flanks of the fleet for some days, in the

hopes of enticing two of the men-of-war out to join in battle. But all

was to no avail, and the Americans were forced to content themselves

with the scant glory won in the incomplete action of the "Raleigh."

Her adversary proved to be the "Druid," twenty, which suffered

severely from the "Raleigh's" repeated broadsides, having six killed,

and twenty-six wounded; of the wounded, five died immediately after

the battle.

It was during the year 1777 that occurred the first attempt to use

gunpowder in the shape of a submarine torpedo. This device, which

to-day threatens to overturn all established ideas of naval

organization and architecture, originated with a clever Connecticut

mechanic named David Bushnell. His invention covered not only

submarine torpedoes, to be launched against a vessel, but a submarine

boat in which an adventurous navigator might undertake to go beneath

the hull of a man-of-war, and affix the torpedoes, so that failure

should be impossible. This boat in shape was not unlike a turtle. A

system of valves, air-pumps, and ballast enabled the operator to

ascend or descend in the water at will. A screw-propeller afforded

means of propulsion, and phosphorescent gauges and compasses enabled

him to steer with some accuracy.

Preliminary tests made with this craft were uniformly successful.

After a skilled operator had been obtained, the boat perfectly

discharged the duties required of her. But, as is so often the case,

when the time for action came she proved inadequate to the emergency.

Let her inventor tell the story in his own words:--

"After various attempts to find an operator to my wish, I sent one,

who appeared to be more expert than the rest, from New York, to a

fifty-gun ship, lying not far from Governor's Island. He went under

the ship, and attempted to fix the wooden screw to her bottom, but

struck, as he supposes, a bar of iron, which passes from the rudder

hinge, and is spiked under the ship's quarter. Had he moved a few

inches, which he might have done without rowing, I have no doubt he

would have found wood where he might have fixed the screw; or, if the

ship were sheathed with copper, he might easily have pierced it. But

not being well skilled in the management of the vessel, in attempting

to move to another place, he lost the ship. After seeking her in vain

for some time, he rowed some distance, and rose to the surface of the

water, but found daylight had advanced so far that he durst not renew

the attempt. He says that he could easily have fastened the magazine

under the stern of the ship above water, as he rowed up to the stern

and touched it before he descended. Had he fastened it there, the

explosion of a hundred and fifty pounds of powder (the quantity

contained in the magazine) must have been fatal to the ship. In his

return from the ship to New York, he passed near Governor's Island,

and thought he was discovered by the enemy on the island. Being in

haste to avoid the danger he feared, he cast off the magazine, as he

imagined it retarded him in the swell, which was very considerable.

After the magazine had been cast off one hour the time the internal

apparatus was set to run, it blew up with great violence.

"Afterwards there were two attempts made in Hudson's River, above the

city; but they effected nothing. One of them was by the aforementioned

person. In going toward the ship, he lost sight of her, and went a

great distance beyond her. When he at length found her, the tide ran

so strong, that, as he descended under water, for the ship's bottom,

it swept him away. Soon after this, the enemy went up the river, and

pursued the boat which had the submarine vessel on board, and sunk it

with their shot."

So it appears, that, so far as this submarine vessel was concerned,

Bushnell's great invention came to naught. And, indeed, it was but the

first of a long line of experiments which have been terribly costly in

human life, and which as yet have not been brought to a successful

end. In every war there comes forward the inventor with the submarine

boat, and he always finds a few brave men ready to risk their lives in

the floating coffin. Somewhere in Charleston Harbor to-day lies a

submarine boat, enclosing the skeletons of eight men, who went out in

it to break the blockade of the port during the civil war. And

although there are to-day several types of submarine boat, each of

which is claimed to make practicable the navigation of the ocean's

depths, yet it is doubtful whether any of them are much safer than

Bushnell's primitive "turtle."

But Bushnell's experiments in torpedo warfare were not confined to

attempts to destroy hostile vessels by means of his submarine vessel.

He made several attacks upon the enemy by means of automatic

torpedoes, none of which met with complete success. One of these

attacks, made at Philadelphia in December, 1777, furnished the

incident upon which is founded the well-known ballad of the "Battle of

the Kegs."

It was at a time when the Delaware was filled with British shipping,

that Bushnell set adrift upon its swift-flowing tide a number of small

kegs, filled with gunpowder, and provided with percussion apparatus,

so that contact with any object would explode them. The kegs were

started on their voyage at night. But Bushnell had miscalculated the

distance they had to travel; so that, instead of reaching the British

fleet under cover of darkness, they arrived early in the morning.

Great was the wonder of the British sentries, on ship and shore, to

see the broad bosom of the river dotted with floating kegs. As the

author of the satirical ballad describes it,--

"Twas early day, as poets say,

Just as the sun was rising;

A soldier stood on a log of wood

And saw the sun a-rising.

As in amaze he stood to gaze

(The truth can't be denied, sir),

He spied a score of kegs, or more,

Come floating down the tide, sir.

A sailor, too, in jerkin blue,

The strange appearance viewing,

First d----d his eyes in great surprise,

Then said, 'Some mischief's brewing.'

These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold,

Packed up like pickled herring;

And they've come down to attack the town

In this new way of ferrying."

The curiosity of the British at this inexplicable spectacle gave place

to alarm, when one of the kegs, being picked up, blew up a boat, and

seriously injured the man whose curiosity had led him to examine it

too closely. Half panic-stricken, the British got out their guns,

great and small; and all day every small object on the Delaware was

the target for a lively fusillade.

"The cannons roar from shore to shore,

The small arms loud did rattle.

Since wars began, I'm sure no man

E'er saw so strange a battle.

The fish below swam to and fro,

Attacked from every quarter.

'Why sure' (thought they), 'the devil's to pay,

'Mong folk above the water.'"

But in the end the kegs all floated by the city, and only the

ammunition stores of the British suffered from the attack.

Another attempt was made by Bushnell to destroy the British frigate

"Cerberus," lying at anchor off the Connecticut coast. A torpedo, with

the usual percussion apparatus, was drawn along the side of the

frigate by a long line, but fouled with a schooner lying astern. The

explosion occurred with frightful force, and the schooner was wholly

demolished. Three men who were on board of her were blown to pieces;

and a fourth was thrown high into the air, and was picked out of the

water in an almost dying condition.

These experiments of the Connecticut mechanic in the Revolutionary war

were the forerunner of a movement which took almost a hundred years to

become generally accepted. We have been accustomed to say that

Ericsson's armor-clad monitor revolutionized naval warfare; but the

perfection of the torpedo is forcing the armor-clad ships into disuse,

as they in their day thrust aside the old wooden frigates. The wise

nation to-day, seeing how irresistible is the power of the torpedo, is

abandoning the construction of cumbrous iron-clads, and building

light, swift cruisers, that by speed and easy steering can avoid the

submarine enemy. And if the torpedo cannot be said to be the ideal

weapon of chivalric warfare, it may at least in time be credited with

doing away with the custom of cooping men up in wrought-iron boxes, to

fight with machine guns. Farragut, who hated iron-clads, liked

torpedoes little better; but had he foreseen their effects upon naval

tactics, he might have hailed them as the destroyers of the iron-clad

ships.

CHAPTER XII.

NAVAL EVENTS OF 1778. -- RECRUITING FOR THE NAVY. -- THE

DESCENT UPON NEW PROVIDENCE. -- OPERATIONS ON THE DELAWARE.

-- CAPT. BARRY'S EXPLOITS. -- DESTRUCTION OF THE AMERICAN

FRIGATES. -- AMERICAN REVERSES. -- THE CAPTURE OF THE

"PIGOT." -- FRENCH NAVAL EXPLOITS.

The year 1778 opened with the brightest prospects for the American

cause. The notable success of the American arms on land, and

particularly the surrender of Burgoyne, had favorably disposed France

toward an alliance with the United States; and, in fact, this alliance

was soon formed. Furthermore, the evidence of the prowess of the

Americans on shore had stirred up the naval authorities to vigorous

action, and it was determined to make the year 1778 a notable one upon

the ocean.

Much difficulty was found, at the very outset, in getting men to ship

for service on the regular cruisers. Privateers were being fitted out

in every port; and on them the life was easy, discipline slack, danger

to life small, and the prospects for financial reward far greater than

on the United States men-of-war. Accordingly, the seafaring men as a

rule preferred to ship on the privateers. At no time in the history

of the United States has the barbaric British custom of getting

sailors for the navy by means of the "press-gang" been followed.

American blue-jackets have never been impressed by force. It is

unfortunately true that unfair advantages have been taken of their

simplicity, and sometimes they have even been shipped while under the

influence of liquor; but such cases have been rare. It is safe to say

that few men have ever trod the deck of a United States man-of-war, as

members of the crew, without being there of their own free will and

accord.

But in 1777 it was sometimes hard to fill the ships' rosters. Then the

ingenuity of the recruiting officers was called into play. A sailor

who served on the "Protector" during the Revolution thus tells the

story of his enlistment:--

"All means were resorted to which ingenuity could devise to induce men

to enlist. A recruiting officer, bearing a flag, and attended by a

band of martial music, paraded the streets, to excite a thirst for

glory and a spirit of military ambition. The recruiting officer

possessed the qualifications necessary to make the service appear

alluring, especially to the young. He was a jovial, good-natured

fellow, of ready wit and much broad humor. When he espied any large

boys among the idle crowd around him, he would attract their attention

by singing in a comical manner the following doggerel,--

'All you that have bad masters,

And cannot get your due,

Come, come, my brave boys,

And join our ship's crew.'

[Illustration: Commodore Barry.]

"A shout and a huzza would follow, and some would join in the ranks.

My excitable feelings were aroused. I repaired to the rendezvous,

signed the ship's papers, mounted a cockade, and was, in my own

estimation, already more than half a sailor. Appeals continued to be

made to the patriotism of every young man, to lend his aid, by his

exertions on sea or land, to free his country from the common enemy.

About the last of February the ship was ready to receive her crew, and

was hauled off into the channel, that the sailors might have no

opportunity to run away after they were got on board. Upward of three

hundred and thirty men were carried, dragged, and driven on board,

of all kinds, ages, and descriptions, in all the various stages of

intoxication, from that of sober tipsiness to beastly drunkenness,

with an uproar and clamor that may be more easily imagined than

described."

But, whatever the methods adopted to secure recruits for the navy, the

men thus obtained did admirable service; and in no year did they win

more glory than in 1778.

As usual the year's operations were opened by an exploit of one of the

smaller cruisers. This was the United States sloop-of-war

"Providence," a trig little vessel, mounting only twelve

four-pounders, and carrying a crew of but fifty men. But she was in

command of a daring seaman Capt. Rathburne, and she opened the year's

hostilities with an exploit worthy of Paul Jones.

Off the south-eastern coast of Florida, in that archipelago or

collection of groups of islands known collectively as the West Indies,

lies the small island of New Providence. Here in 1778 was a small

British colony. The well-protected harbor, and the convenient location

of the island, made it a favorite place for the rendezvous of British

naval vessels. Indeed, it bid fair to become, what Nassau is to-day,

the chief British naval station on the American coast. In 1778 the

little seaport had a population of about one thousand people.

With his little vessel, and her puny battery of four-pounders, Capt.

Rathburne determined to undertake the capture of New Providence. Only

the highest daring, approaching even recklessness, could have

conceived such a plan. The harbor was defended by a fort of no mean

power. There was always one British armed vessel, and often more,

lying at anchor under the guns of the fort. Two hundred of the people

of the town were able-bodied men, able to bear arms. How, then, were

the Yankees, with their puny force, to hope for success? This query

Rathburne answered, "By dash and daring."

It was about eleven o'clock on the night of the 27th of January, 1778,

that the "Providence" cast anchor in a sheltered cove near the

entrance to the harbor of New Providence. Twenty-five of her crew were

put ashore, and being re-enforced by a few American prisoners kept

upon the island, made a descent upon Fort Nassau from its landward

side. The sentries dozing at their posts were easily overpowered, and

the garrison was aroused from its peaceful slumbers by the cheers of

the Yankee blue-jackets as they came tumbling in over the ramparts. A

rocket sent up from the fort announced the victory to the

"Providence," and she came in and cast anchor near the fort.

When morning broke, the Americans saw a large sixteen-gun ship lying

at anchor in the harbor, together with five sail that looked

suspiciously like captured American merchantmen. The proceedings of

the night had been quietly carried on, and the crew of the armed

vessel had no reason to suspect that the condition of affairs on shore

had been changed in any way during the night. But at daybreak a boat

carrying four men put off from the shore, and made for the armed ship;

and at the same time a flag was flung out from the flagstaff of the

fort,--not the familiar scarlet flag of Great Britain, but the almost

unknown stars and stripes of the United States.

The sleepy sailors on the armed vessel rubbed their eyes; and while

they were staring at the strange piece of bunting, there came a hail

from a boat alongside, and an American officer clambered over the

rail. He curtly told the captain of the privateer that the fort was in

the hands of the Americans, and called upon him to surrender his

vessel forthwith. Resistance was useless; for the heavy guns of Fort

Nassau were trained upon the British ship, and could blow her out of

the water. The visitor's arguments proved to be unanswerable; and the

captain of the privateer surrendered his vessel, which was taken

possession of by the Americans; while her crew of forty-five men was

ordered into confinement in the dungeons of the fort which had so

lately held captive Americans. Other boarding parties were then sent

to the other vessels in the harbor, which proved to be American craft,

captured by the British sloop-of-war "Grayton."

At sunrise the sleeping town showed signs of reviving life, and a

party of the audacious Yankees marched down to the house of the

governor. That functionary was found in bed, and in profound ignorance

of the events of the night. The Americans broke the news to him none

too gently, and demanded the keys of a disused fortress on the

opposite side of the harbor from Fort Nassau. For a time the governor

was inclined to demur; but the determined attitude of the Americans

soon persuaded him that he was a prisoner, though in his own house,

and he delivered the keys. Thereupon the Americans marched through the

streets of the city, around the harbor's edge to the fort, spiked the

guns, and carrying with them the powder and small-arms, marched back

to Fort Nassau.

But by this time it was ten o'clock, and the whole town was aroused.

The streets were crowded with people eagerly discussing the invasion.

The timid ones were busily packing up their goods to fly into the

country; while the braver ones were hunting for weapons, and

organizing for an attack upon the fort held by the Americans. Fearing

an outbreak, Capt. Rathburne sent out a flag of truce, making

proclamation to all the inhabitants of New Providence, that the

Americans would do no damage to the persons or property of the people

of the island unless compelled so to do in self-defence. This pacified

the more temperate of the inhabitants; but the hotheads, to the number

of about two hundred, assembled before Fort Nassau, and threatened to

attack it. But, when they summoned Rathburne to surrender, that

officer leaped upon the parapet, and coolly told the assailants to

come on.

"We can beat you back easily," said he. "And, by the Eternal, if you

fire a gun at us, we'll turn the guns of the fort on your town, and

lay it in ruins."

This bold defiance disconcerted the enemy; and, after some

consultation among themselves, they dispersed.

About noon that day, the British sloop-of-war "Grayton" made her

appearance, and stood boldly into the harbor where lay the

"Providence." The United States colors were quickly hauled down from

the fort flagstaff, and every means was taken to conceal the true

state of affairs from the enemy. But the inhabitants along the

water-side, by means of constant signalling and shouting, at last

aroused the suspicion of her officers; and she hastily put about, and

scudded for the open sea. The guns at Fort Nassau opened on her as she

passed, and the aim of the Yankee gunners was accurate enough to make

the splinters fly. The exact damage done her has, however, never been

ascertained.

All that night the daring band of blue-jackets held the fort

unmolested. But on the following morning the townspeople again plucked

up courage, and to the number of five hundred marched to the fort, and

placing several pieces of artillery in battery, summoned the garrison

to surrender. The flag of truce that bore the summons carried also the

threat, that, unless the Americans laid down their arms without

resistance, the fort would be stormed, and all therein put to the

sword without mercy.

For answer to the summons, the Americans nailed their colors to the

mast, and swore that while a man of them lived the fort should not be

surrendered. By this bold defiance they so awed the enemy that the day

passed without the expected assault; and at night the besiegers

returned to their homes, without having fired a shot.

All that night the Americans worked busily, transferring to the

"Providence" all the ammunition and stores in the fort; and the next

morning the prizes were manned, the guns of the fort spiked, and the

adventurous Yankees set sail in triumph. For three days they had held

possession of the island, though outnumbered tenfold by the

inhabitants; they had captured large quantities of ammunition and

naval stores; they had freed their captured countrymen; they had

retaken from the British five captured American vessels, and in the

whole affair they had lost not a single man. It was an achievement of

which a force of triple the number might have been proud.

In February, 1778, the Delaware, along the water-front of

Philadelphia, was the scene of some dashing work by American sailors,

under the command of Capt. John Barry. This officer was in command of

the "Effingham," one of the vessels which had been trapped in the

Delaware by the unexpected occupation of Philadelphia by the British.

The inactivity of the vessels, which had taken refuge at Whitehall,

was a sore disappointment to Barry, who longed for the excitement and

dangers of actual battle. With the British in force at Philadelphia,

it was madness to think of taking the frigates down the stream. But

Barry rightly thought that what could not be done with a heavy ship

might be done with a few light boats.

Philadelphia was then crowded with British troops. The soldiers were

well provided with money, and, finding themselves quartered in a city

for the winter, led a life of continual gayety. The great accession to

the population of the town made it necessary to draw upon the country

far and near for provisions; and boats were continually plying upon

the Delaware, carrying provisions to the city. To intercept some of

these boats, and to give the merry British officers a taste of

starvation, was Barry's plan.

Accordingly four boats were manned with well-armed crews, and with

muffled oars set out on a dark night to patrol the river. Philadelphia

was reached, and the expedition was almost past the city, when the

sentries on one of the British men-of-war gave the alarm. A few

scattering shots were fired from the shore; but the jackies bent to

their oars, and the boats were soon lost to sight in the darkness.

When day broke, Barry was far down the river.

Opposite the little post held by the American army, and called Fort

Penn, Barry spied a large schooner, mounting ten guns, and flying the

British flag. With her were four transport ships, loaded with forage

for the enemy's forces. Though the sun had risen, and it was broad

day, Barry succeeded in running his boats alongside the schooner; and

before the British suspected the presence of any enemy, the

blue-jackets were clambering over the rail, cutlass and pistol in

hand. There was no resistance. The astonished Englishmen threw down

their arms, and rushed below. The victorious Americans battened down

the hatches, ordered the four transports to surrender, on pain of

being fired into, and triumphantly carried all five prizes to the

piers of Fort Penn. There the hatches were removed; and, the Yankee

sailors being drawn up in line, Barry ordered the prisoners to come on

deck. When all appeared, it was found that the Yankees had bagged one

major, two captains, three lieutenants, ten soldiers, and about a

hundred sailors and marines,--a very respectable haul for a party of

not more than thirty American sailors.

The next day a British frigate and sloop-of-war appeared down the bay.

They were under full sail, and were apparently making for Fort Penn,

with the probable intention of recapturing Barry's prizes. Fearing

that he might be robbed of the fruits of his victory, Barry put the

four transports in charge of Capt. Middleton, with instructions to

fire them should the enemy attempt to cut them out. In the mean time,

he took the ten-gun schooner, and made for the Christiana River, in

the hopes of taking her into shallow waters, whither the heavier

British vessels could not follow. But, unluckily for his plans, the

wind favored the frigate; and she gained upon him so rapidly, that

only by the greatest expedition could he run his craft ashore and

escape. Two of the guns were pointed down the main hatch, and a few

rounds of round-shot were fired through the schooner's bottom. She

sunk quickly; and the Americans pushed off from her side, just as the

British frigate swung into position, and let fly her broadside at her

escaping foes.

The schooner being thus disposed of, the British turned their

attention to the four captured transports at Fort Penn. Capt.

Middleton and Capt. McLane, who commanded the American militia on

shore, had taken advantage of the delay to build a battery of bales of

hay near the piers. The British sloop-of-war opened the attack, but

the sharp-shooters in the battery and on the transports gave her so

warm a reception that she retired. She soon returned to the attack,

but was checked by the American fire, and might have been beaten off,

had not Middleton received a mortal wound while standing on the

battery and cheering on his men. Dismayed by the fall of their leader,

the Americans set fire to the transport and fled to the woods, leaving

the British masters of the field.

Barry's conduct in this enterprise won for him the admiration of

friend and foe alike. Sir William Howe, then commander-in-chief of the

British forces in America, offered the daring American twenty thousand

guineas and the command of a British frigate, if he would desert the

service of the United States.

"Not the value and command of the whole British fleet," wrote Barry in

reply, "can seduce me from the cause of my country."

After this adventure, Barry and his followers made their way through

the woods back to Whitehall, where his ship the "Effingham" was lying

at anchor. Here he passed the winter in inactivity. At Whitehall, and

near that place, were nearly a dozen armed ships, frigates, sloops,

and privateers. All had fled thither for safety when the British took

possession of Philadelphia, and now found themselves caught in a trap.

To run the blockade of British batteries and men-of-war at

Philadelphia, was impossible; and there was nothing to do but wait

until the enemy should evacuate the city.

But the British were in no haste to leave Philadelphia; and when they

did get ready to leave, they determined to destroy the American

flotilla before departing. Accordingly on the 4th of May, 1778, the

water-front of the Quaker City was alive with soldiers and citizens

watching the embarkation of the troops ordered against the American

forces at Whitehall. On the placid bosom of the Delaware floated the

schooners "Viper" and "Pembroke," the galleys "Hussar," "Cornwallis,"

"Ferret," and "Philadelphia," four gunboats, and eighteen flat-boats.

Between this fleet and the shore, boats were busily plying, carrying

off the soldiers of the light infantry, seven hundred of whom were

detailed for the expedition. It was a holiday affair. The British

expected little fighting; and with flags flying, and bands playing,

the vessels started up stream, the cheers of the soldiers on board

mingling with those on the shore.

Bristol, the landing-place chosen, was soon reached; and the troops

disembarked without meeting with any opposition. Forming in solid

column, the soldiers took up the march for Whitehall; but, when within

five miles of that place, a ruddy glare in the sky told that the

Americans had been warned of their coming, and had set the torch to

the shipping. When the head of the British column entered Whitehall,

the two new American frigates "Washington" and "Effingham" were

wrapped in flames. Both were new vessels, and neither had yet taken on

board her battery. Several other vessels were lying at the wharves;

and to these the British set the torch, and continued their march,

leaving the roaring flames behind them. A little farther up the

Delaware, at the point known as Crosswise Creek, the large privateer

"Sturdy Beggar" was found, together with several smaller craft. The

crews had all fled, and the deserted vessels met the fate of the other

craft taken by the invaders. Then the British turned their steps

homeward, and reached Philadelphia, after having burned almost a score

of vessels, and fired not a single shot.

On the high seas during 1778 occurred several notable naval

engagements. Of the more important of these we have spoken in our

accounts of the exploits of Tucker, Biddle, and Paul Jones. The less

important ones must be dismissed with a hasty word.

It may be said, that, in general, the naval actions of 1778 went

against the Americans. In February of that year the "Alfred" was

captured by a British frigate, and the "Raleigh" narrowly escaped. In

March, the new frigate "Virginia," while beating out of Chesapeake Bay

on her very first cruise, ran aground, and was captured by the enemy.

In September, the United States frigate "Raleigh," when a few days out

from Boston, fell in with two British vessels,--one a frigate, and the

other a ship-of-the-line. Capt. Barry, whose daring exploits on the

Delaware we have chronicled, was in command of the "Raleigh," and

gallantly gave battle to the frigate, which was in the lead. Between

these two vessels the conflict raged with great fury for upwards of

two hours, when the fore-topmast and mizzen top-gallant-mast of the

American having been shot away Barry attempted to close the conflict

by boarding. The enemy kept at a safe distance, however; and his

consort soon coming up, the Americans determined to seek safety in

flight. The enemy pursued, keeping up a rapid fire; and the running

conflict continued until midnight. Finally Barry set fire to his ship,

and with the greater part of his crew escaped to the nearest land, an

island near the mouth of the Penobscot. The British immediately

boarded the abandoned ship, extinguished the flames, and carried their

prize away in triumph.

To offset these reverses to the American arms, there were one or two

victories for the Americans, aside from those won by Paul Jones, and

the exploits of privateers and colonial armed vessels, which we shall

group together in a later chapter. The first of these victories was

won by an army officer, who was later transferred to the navy, and won

great honor in the naval service.

In an inlet of Narragansett Bay, near Newport, the British had

anchored a powerful floating battery, made of the dismasted hulk of

the schooner "Pigot," on which were mounted twelve eight-pounders and

ten swivel guns. It was about the time that the fleet sent by France

to aid the United States was expected to arrive; and the British had

built and placed in position this battery, to close the channel

leading to Newport. Major Silas Talbot, an army officer who had won

renown earlier in the war by a daring but unsuccessful attempt to

destroy two British frigates in the Hudson River, by means of

fire-ships, obtained permission to lead an expedition for the capture

of the "Pigot." Accordingly, with sixty picked men, he set sail from

Providence in the sloop "Hawk," mounting three three-pounders. When

within a few miles of the "Pigot," he landed, and, borrowing a horse,

rode down and reconnoitred the battery. When the night set in, he

returned to the sloop, and at once weighed anchor and made for the

enemy. As the "Hawk" drew near the "Pigot," the British sentinels

challenged her, and receiving no reply, fired a volley of musketry,

which injured no one. On came the "Hawk," under a full spread of

canvas. A kedge-anchor had been lashed to the end of her bowsprit;

and, before the British could reload, this crashed through the

boarding-nettings of the "Pigot," and caught in the shrouds. The two

vessels being fast, the Americans, with ringing cheers, ran along the

bowsprit, and dropped on the deck of the "Pigot." The surprise was

complete. The British captain rushed on deck, clad only in his shirt

and drawers, and strove manfully to rally his crew. But as the

Americans, cutlass and pistol in hand, swarmed over the taffrail, the

surprised British lost heart, and fled to the hold, until at last the

captain found himself alone upon the deck. Nothing was left for him

but to surrender with the best grace possible; and soon Talbot was on

his way back to Providence, with his prize and a shipful of prisoners.

But perhaps the greatest naval event of 1778 in American waters was

the arrival of the fleet sent by France to co-operate with the

American forces. Not that any thing of importance was ever

accomplished by this naval force: the French officers seemed to find

their greatest satisfaction in manoeuvring, reconnoitring, and

performing in the most exact and admirable manner all the

preliminaries to a battle. Having done this, they would sail away,

never firing a gun. The Yankees were prone to disregard the nice

points of naval tactics. Their plan was to lay their ships alongside

the enemy, and pound away until one side or the other had to yield or

sink. But the French allies were strong on tactics, and somewhat weak

in dash; and, as a result, there is not one actual combat in which

they figured to be recorded.

It was a noble fleet that France sent to the aid of the struggling

Americans,--twelve ships-of-the-line and three frigates. What dashing

Paul Jones would have done, had he ever enjoyed the command of such a

fleet, almost passes imagination. Certain it is that he would have

wasted little time in formal evolutions. But the fleet was commanded

by Count d'Estaing, a French naval officer of honorable reputation.

What he accomplished during his first year's cruise in American

waters, can be told in a few words. His intention was to trap Lord

Howe's fleet in the Delaware, but he arrived too late. He then

followed the British to New York, but was baffled there by the fact

that his vessels were too heavy to cross the bar. Thence he went to

Newport, where the appearance of his fleet frightened the British into

burning four of their frigates, and sinking two sloops-of-war. Lord

Howe, hearing of this, plucked up courage, and, gathering together all

his ships, sailed from New York to Newport, to give battle to the

French. The two fleets were about equally matched. On the 10th of

August the enemies met in the open sea, off Newport. For two days they

kept out of range of each other, manoeuvring for the weather-gage;

that is, the French fleet, being to windward of the British, strove to

keep that position, while the British endeavored to take it from them.

The third day a gale arose; and when it subsided the ships were so

crippled, that, after exchanging a few harmless broadsides at long

range, they withdrew, and the naval battle was ended.

Such was the record of D'Estaing's magnificent fleet during 1778.

Certainly the Americans had little to learn from the representatives

of the power that had for years contended with England for the mastery

of the seas.

CHAPTER XIII.

LAST YEARS OF THE WAR. -- DISASTROUS EXPEDITION TO THE

PENOBSCOT. -- WHOLESALE CAPTURES ON THE NEWFOUNDLAND BANKS.

-- FRENCH SHIPS IN AMERICAN WATERS. -- TAKING OF CHARLESTON.

-- THE "TRUMBULL'S" VICTORY AND DEFEAT. -- CAPT. BARRY AND

THE "ALLIANCE." -- CLOSE OF THE WAR.

The year 1779 is chiefly known in American naval history as the year

in which Paul Jones did his most brilliant service in the "Bon Homme

Richard." The glory won by the Americans was chiefly gained in

European waters. Along the coast of the United States, there were some

dashing actions; but the advantage generally remained with the

British.

Perhaps the most notable naval event of this year, aside from the

battle between the "Bon Homme Richard" and the "Serapis," was the

expedition sent by the State of Massachusetts against the British post

at Castine, on the banks of the Penobscot River. At this unimportant

settlement in the wilds of Maine, the British had established a

military post, with a garrison of about a thousand men, together with

four armed vessels. Here they might have been permitted to remain in

peace, so far as any danger from their presence was to be apprehended

by the people of New England. But the sturdy citizens of Massachusetts

had boasted, that, since the evacuation of Boston, no British soldier

had dared to set foot on Massachusetts soil; and the news of this

invasion caused the people of Boston to rise as one man, and demand

that the invaders should be expelled.

Accordingly a joint naval and military expedition was fitted out under

authority granted by the Legislature of the State. Congress detailed

the United States frigate "Warren," and the sloops-of-war "Diligence"

and "Providence," to head the expedition. The Massachusetts cruisers

"Hazard," "Active," and "Tyrannicide" represented the regular naval

forces of the Bay State; and twelve armed vessels belonging to private

citizens were hired, to complete the armada. The excitement among

seafaring men ran high. Every man who had ever swung a cutlass or

sighted a gun was anxious to accompany the expedition. Ordinarily it

was difficult to ship enough men for the navy; now it was impossible

to take all the applicants. It is even recorded that the list of

common sailors on the armed ship "Vengeance" included thirty masters

of merchantmen, who waived all considerations of rank, in order that

they might join the expedition.

To co-operate with the fleet, a military force was thought necessary;

and accordingly orders were issued for fifteen hundred of the militia

of the district of Maine to assemble at Townsend. Brig.-Gen. Sullivan

was appointed to the command of the land forces, while Capt.

Saltonstall of the "Warren" was made commodore of the fleet.