CHAPTER XIX

JOHN PAUL JONES

For those of you who have had opportunity to see the mighty fleet of steel battleships and destroyers that compose the navy of the United States, it is hard to remember that this fleet was born in the shape of a few wooden sailing ships. And it is almost equally hard to believe that Paul Jones, who commanded one of the first American war vessels, and became the greatest naval hero that this country has ever known, was the son of a poor, Scotch gardener, who worked for a country squire in Kirkcudbrightshire, Scotland.

In 1747 Paul Jones was born, but his name was then John Paul. His uncle, like his father, was a gardener, and worked on the estate of the Earl of Selkirk on St. Mary's Isle, where John Paul used to visit him and go fishing in small boats that he obtained from a little seaport near at hand. Many sailors came to this port, and they made friends with the alert boy who was always asking them questions about ships and seamanship; and the result of their friendship was that at a very early age John Paul was a handy sailor and determined to follow a seafaring life.

Whether or no he ran away from school is not known. At any rate, when he was only twelve years old, he became the apprentice of a merchant who did a considerable trade with Virginia, and he actually sailed for that colony, where his brother had preceded him and was living the life of a Southern planter. John Paul stayed with his brother at Fredericksburg for a time, but when he was nineteen years old he sailed for Jamaica as first mate of a vessel engaged in the slave trade, which was then very active,--for a great deal of money was to be gained from selling the African negroes to Southern planters, and slaves were constantly being taken from their native country and carried to America to work beneath the lash.

But this clean-cut young sailor did not like the slave trade, and after two years, disgusted with the sordid traffic, he left his vessel in Jamaica and became a passenger on a brigantine that was sailing for Scotland, in fact, for his home town. On his way home, by a strange chance, both the captain and mate died, and as an expert navigator was needed, John Paul guided the ship into port. When this fact was made known to her owners they paid their debt by taking him into their employ, and on the next voyage to Jamaica the ship sailed under John Paul's command.

Then there occurred to the young Scotch sailing master a series of misfortunes that changed the course of his career and was indirectly responsible for his casting his lot with the future republic of the United States. To maintain discipline aboard his vessel it became necessary for him to have the ship's carpenter flogged. Many weeks later this man died, and his friends unjustly attributed his death to the flogging he had received, and laid it to the captain's door. John Paul was able to prove that he was not to blame in the affair, but in the meantime he had quitted his vessel and found it hard to get another one. As soon as he finally obtained a new vessel, a mutiny took place when his ship was in the West Indies, and John Paul, in his efforts to quell the mutineers, was assaulted and obliged to kill one of them with his sword in defending himself. Fearing, perhaps, that this second mishap on the heels of the first might make things go hard with him when he was brought to trial, he fled from the West Indies and for a time disappeared completely.

He was next heard from in the American Colonies, bearing the name of John Paul Jones. When the American Revolution took place, he hastened to offer his services to the Government of the United States, and the Naval Committee of Congress called on him for information and advice. When a few vessels were gathered together and a list of naval officers prepared, Paul Jones obtained his commission as Senior Lieutenant on the flagship of the tiny fleet, which was named _Alfred_. And when the commander in chief came over the side, Paul Jones with his own hands hoisted the American flag for the first time over an American man of war. The flag was very different from the modern stars and stripes; it was of yellow silk, in the center of which was a pine tree with a rattlesnake coiled at its roots, and the motto: "_don't tread on me_."

After the Americans made an attack on New Providence where several boats were captured, Paul Jones was promoted to the rank of Captain as a reward for his excellent services and given command of the _Providence_, on whose quarter deck he sailed for the West Indies to prey upon British shipping. His knowledge of the waters was so thorough and his skill as a naval officer of such high quality that in forty-seven days he captured no less than sixteen vessels.

Congress was delighted at his exploits. In reward he was given the command of his old ship, the _Alfred_, and in her he sailed northward along the coast of Nova Scotia until he entered the Gut of Canso. In the neighborhood of this deep strait that runs between Nova Scotia proper and the Island of Cape Breton, Paul Jones captured twelve fishing vessels. Having placed prize crews on his new ships he triumphantly returned to the United States.

His fame now was widely established among the revolting colonies. By order of Congress he was transferred to the sloop, _Ranger_, with orders to cruise about the coast of England and destroy shipping. Paul Jones planned to do more than this; he intended actually to attack English seaports and burn the shipping in the harbors, feeling convinced that he could inflict greater losses on the enemy in this manner. And as he had enjoyed the honor of raising the American flag for the first time over an American war vessel, he now had the added honor of being the first naval officer to sail under the stars and stripes, which flew for the first time in naval history above the _Ranger_.

After visiting France, where he delivered messages from the American Government to the American Commissioners in Paris, one of whom was Benjamin Franklin, Paul Jones decided to attack the town of Whitehaven, which had been well known to him as a boy. In the depth of night the _Ranger_ stole into the entrance of the harbor and dropped anchor. Then two boats put off from her with muffled oars, Paul Jones in command of one and his lieutenant, whose name was Wallingford, in charge of the other.

Jones ordered Wallingford to set fire to the shipping on the north side of the town, while he himself with his men should advance upon the nearby fort and spike the guns. As the fort was an old one and had a small garrison, the intrepid commander had but little trouble in capturing it, particularly as none of the British dreamed of a raid and small wonder, for their shores had been safe from the invader since the time of William the Conqueror.

The garrison was completely surprised and gave in without a struggle. Jones and his followers quickly spiked the guns of the fort and taking their prisoners with them hastened back to the boats. When they arrived a great disappointment confronted them, for Lieutenant Wallingford had failed to fire the shipping as ordered. He gave the excuse that the lanterns that had been brought with them for the purpose had been blown out by the wind, but he had made no attempt to secure firebrands from any other quarter. So Jones himself with some of his followers took live coals from a nearby house and with the aid of a tar barrel succeeded in setting fire to one of the ships that was tied to the wharf.

By this time it was early morning. Ordering his little band back into their boats, Jones himself with drawn pistol stood off the curious and frightened throng of people that had gathered around him. When the flames arose to such an extent that it had become impossible to save the ill-fated ship, and not till then, did the plucky commander seek refuge. As he rowed away with his men the British rushed to the forts to seek vengeance, where they found that the guns were spiked, and by the time they had unearthed one or two old cannon the Americans were well out of harm's way.

All England rang with the story, and the rage and consternation of the British people is hard to describe. After having held themselves safe from invasion for hundreds of years and boasting proudly that they governed every sea, they liked it but ill that their peace should be disturbed by a nation which was considered by them to be no more than an insignificant group of revolting farmers. And the moral effect of the bold raid by Jones exceeded by far any material advantage that he gained.

While England was still buzzing like a hornet's nest as a result of this exploit, Jones performed another deed that was even bolder than the attack on Whitehaven. This was no less than a raid on the estate of the Earl of Selkirk, where his uncle had worked as a gardener, and where Jones himself had spent a part of his boyhood. His purpose was to carry off the Earl as a prisoner of war, and, holding him as a hostage, to effect the exchange of certain American prisoners who were being cruelly treated in British prisons. But ill luck still pursued him. Upon arriving at the Earl's estate he found that Selkirk himself was away from home and that his mission was fruitless. On the insistence of his men he took the silver plate that belonged to the Earl, but touched nothing else on the estate. When the plate came up for sale and the sailors were to receive their share of the prize money Jones bought the plate himself and returned it to the Earl with a courteous letter, explaining that only the exigencies of war and similar conduct of the British on American territory had compelled him to take such a course.

With the captured plate safe in his vessel, Paul Jones then attacked the twenty-gun British sloop of war, _Drake_, and after a severe combat succeeded in making her his prize. With the British cruisers in search of him everywhere he took the captured vessel into the French harbor of Brest, where he underwent heartbreaking delays in obtaining money to pay his men. Then the _Ranger_ was taken from him, as the French Government and the American Commissioners in Paris desired him to be placed in command of a French vessel.

At last Paul Jones was given charge of an old merchantman named _Duras_ whose name he was allowed to change to suit his own pleasure. In deference to Benjamin Franklin who had always been his close friend Jones called his new craft the _Bonhomme Richard_, in honor of Benjamin Franklin's famous nickname of "Poor Richard." The _Bonhomme Richard_ was refitted and made to approach a ship of war as closely as possible, and in August, 1779, Jones sailed in her on what was destined to be his most famous cruise.

The French had placed some other ships at his disposal to the extent that they were to accompany the _Bonhomme Richard_, but were independent of her command, being under French naval officers. This peculiar state of affairs greatly reduced the efficiency of the little squadron, whose vessels were the _Pallas_, the _Vengeance_, the _Cerf_ and the _Alliance_.

The crew of the _Bonhomme Richard_, which was the only American vessel of the little fleet,--and the only one that accomplished any signal success--was composed of such a motley assortment of the offscourings of the dockyards that even Jones' stout heart sank when he saw his men assembled together. Among the men that were supposed to be sailors were many French peasants who had never even seen a vessel and English prisoners that he had to keep in order by the armed force of his more loyal men. The fact that he was able to mold this variegated mass of undisciplined humanity into a staunch crew capable of winning one of the most famous naval battles of history is a proof of his genius for leadership.

The lack of unity in command soon began to show the inevitable ill results. The _Cerf_ became separated from the squadron and returned to France. The _Alliance_, under the infamous Captain Landais, who had been dishonorably discharged from the French navy, refused to cooperate with Jones and soon disappeared on some unknown errand.

As the remaining three vessels were cruising near Flamborough Head, they sighted a large convoy of British merchant vessels which were guarded by two warships--the _Serapis_, a frigate with nearly twice the number of guns as the _Bonhomme Richard_, and the _Countess of Scarborough_ which was also a large war vessel. They sighted the convoy well on in the afternoon and closed with it at about sunset. People on shore who had recognized the fact that Jones' ships were a hostile squadron crowded the heights to see the sea fight which they knew was not far off.

As the sun was going down the _Serapis_ approached the _Bonhomme Richard_ and hailed her with the cry, "What ship is that?"

"I don't hear you," answered Jones, who was maneuvering his vessel so as to rake the decks of his opponent with his opening broadside, and when the _Serapis_ hailed again the _Bonhomme Richard_ opened fire with all the guns she could bring to bear upon her.

It was a severe blow, but the _Serapis_ was not slow in responding. And almost at the first broadside from the English the American ship was severely crippled. Two of the old cannon of the _Bonhomme Richard_ had exploded at the first shot, killing and wounding many and tearing a large hole in the hull of the ship. But although he was in a serious predicament Jones continued to fight with vigor. Broadside after broadside was poured in and both vessels sailed slowly abreast of each other enveloped in a cloud of dense white smoke that hid the scene from the wondering folk on shore.

The best chance for the weaker vessel was to close with its opponent and Jones maneuvered until he had an opportunity to make the _Bonhomme Richard_ fast to the _Serapis_. The jibboom of the Britisher had swung over the deck of the _Richard_ and Jones with his own hands made it fast to the mizzenmast of his ship. The two ships were now locked in a death grip, and so close that when the guns were loaded the cannoneers had to lean into the ports of the enemy vessel to drive the ramrods home.

The big British frigate had the advantage. With heavier batteries than the American ship she was able to silence Jones' guns one after one. Several attempts were made by Jones to board his enemy but without success. He was a beaten man. As his batteries were put out of commission, the men came to the main deck and manned the remaining guns, or formed boarding parties there. From the tops of the _Bonhomme Richard_ a continuous and accurate fire was poured on the decks of the _Serapis_ and many a British sailor lost his life as a result of the accuracy of the French sharpshooters who were engaged there.

By this time the desperate conditions below decks on the _Bonhomme Richard_ were almost indescribable. Water was pouring into the hold. Great breaches were made in the hull and the ship was several times set on fire. But Jones fought on. One of his petty officers, thinking him dead, raised a cry for quarter, which was heard on the British ship.

"Have you surrendered?" called Captain Pearson, the British commander.

Jones had knocked down the quartermaster with the butt of his pistol and climbed into the rigging of his ship so the British and his own men could hear his answer more clearly:

"I have not yet begun to fight," he shouted, and a cheer broke out on the deck of the American.

Just then the _Alliance_ under Captain Landais came up, and Jones believed that the battle was won. But the _Alliance_ instead of firing on the _Serapis_ discharged a broadside at the _Bonhomme Richard_. In spite of shouts and warnings, Landais continued his dastardly work and many Americans and Frenchmen were killed or wounded by his fire. Then his craft sailed away and was seen no more until after the battle.

It was now known aboard the _Serapis_ what a desperate state of affairs existed on Jones' ship, and the English believed that a few more broadsides would bring them victory. But their hopes were suddenly dashed. An American sailor had crawled along the yardarm of the _Richard_ to the mast of the _Serapis_ and had dropped a hand grenade. The grenade plunged through a hatchway and fell upon some loose powder and a row of charges for the cannon that had been placed on deck. The roar of a terrific explosion followed, and Englishmen, screaming for quarter, could be seen running through the smoke and flame of their own vessel with every vestige of clothing burned from their bodies. The battle was won by the Americans.

Captain Pearson walked aft and struck his colors. American officers boarded the _Serapis_, and Pearson and his lieutenants were ordered to report to Jones on the _Bonhomme Richard_. There Captain Pearson surrendered his sword and was placed in confinement by Jones.

The _Bonhomme Richard_ had been so severely damaged in the fight that she was in a sinking condition and it was plain to see that she would not remain above the waves much longer. So, transferring every man to the _Serapis_, Jones sailed for a Dutch port, accompanied by his other vessels. The _Countess of Scarborough_ had been captured after about an hour's fight, and Jones had more than five hundred British prisoners in his charge, including two captains and a number of lesser officers.

Although many difficulties and dangers still beset him, Jones' fame was now assured. England and France rang with his victory, and while the English drew cartoons of him as a bloody pirate, strutting on a quarter deck that was lined with the bodies of his victims, the French king, Louis the Sixteenth, presented him with a gold mounted sword and the cross of the Order of Military Merit. Congress passed a resolution commending him for his gallantry and he received a complimentary letter from General Washington.

When the war with England ended and the United States had secured their independence, Paul Jones entered the service of the Russian Empire under Catherine the Great with the rank of Rear Admiral. He gave the new country of his adoption the greatest service in their war with the Turks, many of whose vessels Jones sunk or destroyed. But he was disgusted with Russian intrigue, resigned his commission and returned to Paris.

All this time he had remained an American citizen. He considered this the greatest honor of any that had come to him--that he could call himself a citizen of the Republic for which he had fought so often and so well against such great odds. But his health had been failing him and he died in Paris on July 18, 1792. He was given a public funeral by the French National Assembly.

For a long time his body remained in France. At length, however, its resting place was discovered by General Horace Porter, U.S.A., and all that remained of Paul Jones was brought back in state to America on a great steel ship the like of which he had never seen. He was given a national funeral at Annapolis and his body was entombed in the beautiful Chapel of the Naval Academy, which institution Jones himself had urged Congress to found. It is a fitting resting place for America's greatest naval hero,--for while we have many distinguished and noble sailors, there is no name that has the ring of Paul Jones.