_The Return to America._
Fitting the Ariel.—Painful Delays.—The Sailing.—Terrible Tempest.—The
Disabled Ship.—Puts back to L’Orient.—The Second Departure.—Meets
the Triumph.—Bloody Naval Battle.—Perfidious Escape of the
Triumph.—The Ariel Reaches America.—Honors Lavished upon
Jones.—Appointed to Build and Command the America.—Great Skill
Displayed.—The Ship given to France.—The Launch.
Tardily the French government had ordered the Ariel to be fully armed
and equipped. Commodore Jones crowded the ship to its utmost possible
capacity. Such a quantity of powder, arms, and other stores were taken
on board, that he had room for provisions for only nine weeks. The
commodore had hoped to have left port at an earlier period, and at a
more favorable season of the year. He was not able to weigh anchor and
to spread his sails, for his adventurous voyage, until the 8th of
October. He then sailed, with a fair wind and with promise of pleasant
weather.
But the very next night a terrible tempest arose. In the midst of
midnight darkness, with howling winds and dashing waves, the Ariel
barely escaped being wrecked on the rocks of Penmarque, a ledge which
was the terror of all seamen, between L’Orient and Brest. The gale was
so severe that the lower yard-arms were frequently plunged into the
water. The peril was so great that it was necessary to cut away the
fore-mast. This seemed in some degree to relieve the ship from the
terrible strain, so that her head was brought to the wind. But in the
terrible plungings of the heavily laden ship over the billows, the
main-mast had got out of the step, and reeled to and fro in the most
threatening manner. The danger was imminent that the mast would either
break off below the gun-deck, or that it would crush its way through the
bottom of the ship. Commodore Jones gave orders for the main-mast to be
cut away. But before this could be done the chain plates parted, and the
main-mast, breaking off at the gun-deck, fell with a terrible crash,
carrying with it the mizzenmast, and the quarter-gallery. In that
deplorable situation, the Ariel, rolling like a log upon the
tempest-lashed sea, by rare good luck floated in midnight darkness, to
the windward of the ledge generally deemed the most dangerous in the
world.
For two days and three nights this autumnal storm raged, covering the
shore with wrecks, and with the bodies of the drowned. Even in the port
of L’Orient many ships were torn from their anchorage, and were dashed
on the shore. Probably nothing saved the Ariel but the loss of her
masts. Had they remained standing, to receive the force of the gale, no
anchor could have held her from being thrown upon the rocks. Jury-masts
were rigged, and the shattered Ariel, after the gale, was taken back to
L’Orient. On the 16th, he wrote to Lady D’Ormoy, in reply to a letter
from her. In this communication, he said:
“I have returned without laurels, and, what is worse, without being able
to render service to the glorious cause of liberty. I know not why
Neptune was in such anger, unless he thought it an affront in me to
appear on his ocean, with so insignificant a force. It is certain that
till the night of the 8th, I did not fully conceive the awful majesty of
tempest and of shipwreck. I can give you no just idea of the tremendous
scene that nature then presented, which surpassed the reach even of
poetic fancy and the pencil. I believe no ship was ever before saved
from an equal danger off the point of the Penmarque rocks.
“I am extremely sorry that the young English lady you mention should
have imbibed the national hatred against me. I have had proofs that many
of the first and finest ladies of that nation are my friends. Indeed I
cannot imagine why any fair lady should be my enemy, since, upon the
large scale of universal philanthropy I feel, acknowledge, and bend
before the sovereign power of beauty. The English nation may hate me,
but I will force them to esteem me too.”
Jones was exceedingly distressed that his sailors had not received one
single dollar of prize money. They blamed him, and he could not make it
clear to their impassioned minds that he was not to blame. The prizes,
which had been sent into the French ports, had now been sold. But legal
technicalities seemed to render it necessary that the money should be
paid in America. Even Dr. Franklin could not deny that such was the
proper interpretation of the statute. The money was consequently
remitted to the French minister, M. Chaumont, to be forwarded to this
country. Commodore Jones wrote pleadingly in behalf of the suffering
sailors.
“By virtue of the authority I had received from the government,” he
wrote, “my honor was pledged to see these men justly paid. I have
already suffered many reflections on their account. I beseech your
excellency to order them immediate payment.”
The spirit of Dr. Franklin was in a state of great perturbation in view
of these wrongs, which seemed to paralyze all the sinews of action. From
a sick bed, upon which it is not improbable that trouble had thrown him,
he wrote to the Court, strongly soliciting, under the circumstances, the
payment of the money. It was not until the 18th of December that the
shattered, heavily laden Ariel was again prepared for sea. In his
journal, Jones writes:
“On this day I bade adieu to the beloved nation of France; where, though
I have met with some difficulties, have many reasons to be satisfied. I
am charmed with the courteous behavior that so nobly marked the
character of that generous minded people.”
As he had important despatches on board, which he was directed to sink
rather than allow to fall into the hands of the enemy, and as the cargo
he carried was of inestimable value to the colonies, he resolved to seek
no prizes, but to cross the ocean as rapidly as possible, by an
unfrequented track, taking the southern passage along the edge of the
trade winds.
After being out several days he found himself far south, in the latitude
of Barbadoes. In a distance a ship hove in sight. There could be but
little doubt that it was an English ship. After carefully examining it
with his glass he saw that it was a fast-sailing, well-armed English
frigate. The Ariel was not in a condition to give battle to such an
opponent. He hoped, in the darkness of the night, to escape. He
therefore changed his course and spread every sail. In the morning he
found, much to his disappointment, that the frigate was still nearer to
him than the evening before.
An action was now unavoidable. The frigate would surely board him, and,
by examining his papers, find out who he was and where he was bound.
Immediately the most vigorous measures were adopted to prepare for
action. It is probable that Commodore Jones had resolved never, under
whatever circumstances, to surrender to the British flag. Everything was
thrown overboard which could interfere with the efficiency of the
defence. The sails and helm were so managed, and other precautions
adopted, as to conceal, as far as possible, the force of the Ariel. He
assumed the character of a merchant-ship lightly armed.
The chase soon became very eager. As soon as the frigate came within
gun-shot of the Ariel, Jones opened fire from his quarter-deck, with his
stern chasers. The wind became very light, so that hour after hour, on
these mild tropical seas, the pursued and the pursuer glided along,
without the distance between them being sensibly diminished.
As night approached the frigate came within hailing distance of the
Ariel. Jones, as he examined her armament, was well pleased to find that
he had a force to contend with not much superior to his own. He
immediately raised the English flag, and quite a conversation took place
between the commanders of the two ships. Jones learned that the frigate
was called the Triumph, under command of Captain John Pindar. Assuming
that the Ariel was an English ship conveying stores to the British army
in America, he obtained very important information, in reference to the
position of the English squadron on the coast.
At length Jones pretended not to believe Captain Pindar, that his ship
belonged to the British navy. He therefore ordered the captain to come
on board the Ariel and show his commission. Pindar probably at this time
had his suspicions excited. He declined upon the excuse that his boats
leaked, and that he had not yet learned the name of the frigate before
him, or of her commander. Jones replied:
“I have no account to render to you. You can have five minutes to decide
whether you will come on board of me or not.”
Jones held his watch in his hand. The frigates were lying nearly abreast
and within thirty feet of each other. The tops of both vessels were
filled with sharp-shooters, and the gunners, with lighted matches, stood
at the batteries. The moment the five minutes had elapsed, Jones ran up
the Stars and Stripes, and hurled a full broadside, within pistol-shot,
into the Triumph. It was then past seven o’clock in the evening.
Daylight had completely faded away. Starlight and the flash of the guns
alone lighted the combatants in their dreadful conflict. The crew of the
Ariel was inspired with the indomitable energies of its commander.
The Triumph instantly returned the fire of the Ariel. It is said that
the vigorous and regular fire, from the top and batteries of the Ariel,
had never been exceeded. Such a conflict could by no possibility last
long. The flash and the roar of this tempest of war were incessant.
Every bolt was death dealing. The massive irons balls tore through and
splintered the oaken timbers, smashed gun carriages, tumbled about the
massive ordnance, and strewed the decks with lifeless bodies and
dismembered limbs. There was not one moment’s intermission. Blow
followed blow instantaneously. Amidst darkness and sulphurous smoke, and
the angry gleam of the flashing guns, there were ghastly wounds, and
gushing blood, and death—misery and inconceivably awful ruin. It was one
of those scenes in this lost world, which has led many to inquire, “Can
hell exceed this?”
Ten minutes of this horrible carnage settled the question. Pindar struck
his colors and cried out for quarter, saying that one half of his men
were killed. Instantly the Ariel stopped fire. The men, abandoning the
batteries and running down from the tops, clustered on the deck, and
gave three cheers in token of their victory. When a ship thus
surrenders, and calls for and accepts quarter, she is considered as a
prisoner of war is considered, who has given his word of honor not to
attempt to escape. With a few more broadsides Jones might have sunk the
Triumph, which was preying upon American commerce. And it was his duty
to have done this, rather than allow her to escape.
But relying upon the honor of the English commander, he accepted the
unconditional surrender. The Triumph was not injured in her sails or
rigging. In the confusion of the moment, when the dead covered the decks
and the wounded were being hurried below to the care of the surgeon, and
the guns of the Ariel were abandoned, the treacherous captain, watching
his opportunity, suddenly spread every sail, and commenced running away
with all speed. Jones was astonished at this perfidy. He immediately
spread every sail in pursuit. But the Triumph was much the swiftest
sailor, and soon got out of gun-shot, and disappeared in the darkness.
In the account which Commodore Jones gives of this conflict, in the
journal which he sent to the king of France, he wrote:
“In a minute I ordered the firing to cease. And there were several
huzzahs on board the Ariel, as is usual after a victory. But a minute
afterwards the captain of the Triumph had the baseness to fill his sails
and run away. It was not in my power to prevent this, the Triumph
sailing much faster than the Ariel. But if the British government had
that feeling of honor and justice which becomes a great nation, they
would have delivered up to the United States that frigate as belonging
to them; and would have punished, in the most exemplary manner, her
captain for having thus violated the laws of war and the customs of
civilized nations.”
On the 18th of February, 1781, Paul Jones arrived at Philadelphia,
having been absent from America three years, three months, and eighteen
days. He now received what was to him an ample reward for his past years
of toil and care. The renown of his exploits had spread through the
land. No one in the army or the navy had acquired more celebrity. Even
Mr. Lee, who had now himself quarrelled with Landais, and had become
convinced that he was insane, joined in the laudations of Commodore
Jones. The Board of Admiralty condemned the course of Mr. Lee, and
sustained Jones. In a report which the Board made to Congress, on the 2d
of November, 1781, it was said:
“It appears that Captain Landais regained command of the Alliance by the
advice of Mr. Lee, notwithstanding his suspension by Dr. Franklin, who,
by the direction of the Marine Committee, had the sole management of our
marine affairs in Europe.”
Congress had already passed a resolve, stating, “That the thanks of the
United States, in Congress assembled, be given to Captain John Paul
Jones, for the zeal, prudence, and intrepidity, with which he has
supported the honor of the American flag; for his bold and successful
enterprises to redeem from captivity the citizens of these States, who
had fallen under the power of the enemy; and, in general, for the good
conduct and eminent services by which he has added lustre to his
character and to the American arms.”
General Washington, with his customary circumspection, wrote to him:
“Whether our naval affairs have, in general, been well or ill conducted,
would be presumptuous in me to determine. Instances of bravery and good
conduct, in several of our officers, have not, however, been wanting.
Delicacy forbids me to mention that particular one which has attracted
the admiration of all the world, and which has influenced the most
illustrious monarch to confer a mark of his favor, which can only be
obtained by long and honorable service, or by the performance of some
brilliant action.”
The warm-hearted Marquis de Lafayette wrote, in much more glowing terms,
to his old friend. He was just on the point of sailing for France. His
letter was dated on the Alliance, off Boston, December 22d, 1781.
“I have been honored with your polite favor, my dear Paul Jones, but
before it reached me I was already on board the Alliance, and was every
minute expecting to put to sea. As to the pleasure to take you by the
hand, my dear Paul Jones, you know my affectionate sentiments, and my
very great regard for you, so that I need not add anything on that
subject.
“Accept my best thanks for the kind expressions in your letter. The
downfall of Cornwallis is a great event; and the greater as it was
equally and amicably shared by the two allied nations. Your coming to
the army I had the honor to command, would have been considered as a
very flattering compliment to one who loves you and knows your worth. I
am impatient to hear that you are ready to sail. And I am of opinion
that we ought to unite, under you, every Continental ship we can muster,
with such a body of well-appointed marines as might cut a good figure
ashore and then give you plenty of provisions, and _carte blanche_. I am
sorry I cannot see you. I have also many things to tell you.”
Honorable John Adams wrote him, from the Hague. In this letter he said:
“Could I see a prospect of half-a-dozen line-of-battle ships, under the
American flag, commanded by Commodore Paul Jones, engaged with an equal
British force, I apprehend the event would be so glorious for the United
States, and lay so sure a foundation for their prosperity, that it would
be a rich compensation for the continuance of the war.”
Commodore Jones was summoned to appear before Congress to answer a large
number of questions, which had been carefully drawn up, in reference to
the delay of the stores in Europe, and the many other difficulties in
the marine which had occurred there. His answers were so full and
satisfactory as to draw from Congress the most cordial approval of his
course. In the complimentary resolves it was added:
“That the Minister Plenipotentiary of these United States, at the Court
of Versailles, communicated to his most Christian Majesty the high
satisfaction Congress has received from the conduct and gallant behavior
of Captain John Paul Jones, which have merited the attention and
approbation of his most Christian Majesty; and that his majesty’s offer
of adorning Captain Jones with a Cross of Military Merit, is highly
acceptable to Congress.”
Congress at that time held its sessions in Philadelphia. The French
minister, M. de la Luzerne, gave a very brilliant fête to all the
members of Congress. In the presence of that august body, with imposing
ceremonials, he conferred upon Jones, in the name of the King of France,
the honor he so richly merited.
Congress commenced building, under the supervision of Commodore Jones, a
very splendid seventy-four-gun ship, to be called the America. By
unanimous vote of Congress, Captain Jones was intrusted with the
command. For sixteen months he devoted his tireless energies to building
this ship, with which he could bid defiance to any single ship in the
British navy, and which would enable him to render really efficient
service to his country.
While abroad he had collected copies of all the important treatises upon
naval tactics; upon the construction of ships, the police of fleets and
dockyards, and every other branch of his noble profession. Every moment
of leisure was devoted to these studies. He became an enthusiastic
student, resolved to make himself as perfect as possible in all the
accomplishments of his noble profession. And it is safe to say that
there was not, in our navy, any officer more thoroughly instructed.
On the birth of the Dauphin, the unfortunate son of Louis XVI. and Maria
Antoinette, Commodore Jones mounted, on the deck of the unfinished ship
America, a battery, at his own expense. The flag of France was unfurled
from the mast-head, and salutes were fired at repeated hours during the
day. At night the ship was illuminated, and there was a brilliant
display of fireworks.
Jones obtained great credit with both American and French officers for
the skill he displayed in the construction of this ship. It was fifty
and a-half feet in breadth, and one hundred and eighty-two and a-half
feet in length. The best judges pronounced her to be a model of naval
architecture. It was the largest seventy-four-gun ship then in the
world. And yet she floated so gracefully that, at the distance of a
mile, she appeared like a delicate frigate; and no one would have
suspected that she had a second battery.
The embarrassments which Jones experienced, and the delays to which he
was exposed in building, arming, and rigging this admirable structure,
were innumerable. Money, first of all, was wanted; suitable workmen were
with difficulty found, and he never had more than twenty-four carpenters
employed. Our machinery and manufactures were not in a sufficiently
advanced state to furnish proper material for the rigging, and suitable
armament for a first-class ship. Nearly all such stores were to be
brought from Europe. The ships which brought them had to run the
gauntlet through the powerful fleet of England.
There probably was not another man, then in the United States, capable
of doing what Commodore Jones did in building this ship. It is to be
remembered that the whole population of the United States, widely
scattered, amounted to but about three millions, about the same as the
present population of the State of New York. For such a little band to
bid defiance to the majestic power of England was one of the boldest
deeds ever performed. We should inevitably have been crushed but for the
aid of our generous ally.
About the middle of August Jones left Philadelphia for Portsmouth, New
Hampshire, where the ship was being built. On the way he visited the
allied army under General Washington and the French General Rochambeau,
then encamped at White Plains, in Westchester county, New York. There
was scarcely any name then more prominent in the army and the navy than
that of Paul Jones. He was received by the officers of both armies with
flattering distinction. In addition to his merits as a brave warrior he
was an intelligent, courteous, accomplished gentleman—one whose upright
and elevated character commanded universal respect. He reached
Portsmouth near the middle of September. There was everything to
discourage him. The resources of the country seemed to be exhausted, and
but a small portion of the materials for building the ship had been
purchased.
But Commodore Jones plunged into the great enterprise with all his
thoughtful and intelligent energies. No time was wasted in useless
repinings. He was intensely anxious for active service. Superintending
work in the ship-yard was not congenial employment for him, when he
longed to be upon the deck of his ship humbling, by his broadsides, that
proud power which was stigmatizing the officers in the United States
Navy as traitors, pirates, and thieves. During these weary months he
was, however, cheered by the conviction that he would soon unfurl his
flag on board the America; and that then, with a combined French and
American squadron, he would strike blows which would compel the British
government to respect the rights of humanity.
Before Commodore Jones commenced work on the America, he had quite
despaired of obtaining another ship. In his eagerness to be actively
employed in working out the redemption of his adopted country from
British thraldom, he contemplated entering the army, to serve in the
corps of Lafayette. The English naval officers heard of the building of
the America, and were anxious to destroy her before she could put to
sea. They had formed various plans, which were communicated by
Washington to Commodore Jones. Ships were cruising off the harbor of
Portsmouth, and a fleet of armed boats was to be sent in at night, to
apply the torch.
Jones organized an armed guard for the protection of the America. It was
necessary for him to employ in this service the mechanics who were
engaged in building the ship. Jones himself frequently took command of
this guard, and carefully drilled them in the art of defence. They were
thoroughly drilled, and had several pieces of cannon which they were
taught to manage with great skill. They were prepared to give a very
warm reception to any assailants. Several times, in the dim starlight,
crowded boats were seen, pulling silently into the harbor with muffled
oars. But the defences were so formidable that they never ventured to
make an attack.
It was near the close of 1782 when the ship was nearly completed and
ready for launching. Jones now felt that he was soon to reap the reward
of his long and painful labors. And then came a sudden, unexpected,
terrible disappointment. A squadron of French line-of-battle ships,
coming over to our aid, entered Boston harbor. One of the finest of
these ships, the Magnifique, stranded, and was entirely lost. As they
had come to assist us, Congress justly regarded the ship as lost in our
service. To indemnify the King of France for this loss, and to show our
gratitude to our allies, it was at once voted to present the America to
the King of France. Thus again, in a moment, were all the brightest
hopes of Paul Jones dashed.
It was the duty of Honorable Robert Morris, agent of Marine, to
communicate this intelligence to the Chevalier Paul Jones. He evidently
recoiled from the unwelcome task. In his kind and sympathetic letter he
said:
“I know you so well as to be convinced that it must give you great pain,
and I sincerely sympathize with you. But although you will undergo much
concern at being deprived of this opportunity to reap laurels on your
favorite field, yet your regard for France will in some measure
alleviate it. I must entreat you to continue your inspection until she
is launched, and to urge forward the business. When that is done, if you
will come hither I will explain to you the reasons which led to this
measure, and my views for employing you in the service of your country.”
The answer of Commodore Jones was worthy of the man. There were few who
could have received so terrible a blow so meekly, and with so much
dignity. Honorable Robert Morris acknowledged the receipt of his reply
in a letter, which justice to Commodore Jones demands should be given in
full. It was as follows:
“MARINE OFFICE, October 9th, 1782.
“CHEVALIER PAUL JONES, Portsmouth.
“SIR—I have received your letter of the 22d of last month. The
sentiments contained in it will always reflect the highest honor upon
your character. They have made so strong an impression upon my mind
that I immediately transmitted an extract of your letter to Congress.
I doubt not but that they will view it in the manner which I have
done.
“I am, etc.,
“ROBERT MORRIS.”
Mr. Morris wrote, in his letter to the President of Congress: “I do
myself the honor to enclose your excellency the copy of a letter which
I received this morning from the Chevalier Paul Jones. The present
state of our affairs does not permit me to employ that valuable
officer; and I confess that it is with no small degree of concern that
I consider the little probability of rendering his talents useful to
that country which he has already so faithfully served, and with so
great disinterestedness. I should do injustice to my own feelings as
well as to my country, if I did not most warmly recommend this
gentleman to the notice of Congress, whose favor he has certainly
merited by the most signal services and sacrifices.”
Jones continued faithfully superintending the completion of the America,
until she was launched, on the 5th of November. It was necessary to
build this ship where she could be protected from the assaults of the
British navy. It was anticipated, by many, that the launching would be
attended with great difficulty. Commodore Jones attended to the minutest
details with wonderful skill.
The river was not more than two hundred yards wide. On one side of the
building slip there was a ledge of rocks, running half-way across the
river, and parallel to the direction of the ship’s keel. The opposite
shore was fringed with rocks. The tide rushed in and out with great
rapidity. It was necessary to launch near flood-tide, when the current
was very rapid. There was much danger that the ship might be swept
against the ledge. This could only be obviated by cables and anchors
secured on the shore. With great ingenuity, these were so arranged as to
check the speed of the ship, and bring her to a stand at a particular
spot.
The flags of France and America were blended in friendly union at the
stern. Jones took his stand on a platform, near the bows of the ship. He
gave every signal; watched every movement, and ordered when the anchors
at the bows were, in succession, to be let go. Beautifully,
majestically, successfully, the vast fabric glided into its native
element. The admiration of the thousands of spectators was announced in
enthusiastic cheers.
On the same day Chevalier Jones gracefully surrendered the America to
Chevalier de Martigne, who had commanded the Magnifique. The next
morning, again out of employment, he set out for Philadelphia, to seek
new engagements in the service of his country.