Part 15

"I would not deceive any man who has entered or may enter, to serve in my command," remarked John Paul Jones. "I consider myself as being under a personal obligation to these brave men, who have cheerfully enlisted to serve with me, and I accept their act as a proof of their good opinion of me, which I value so highly, that I cannot permit it to be dampened in the least degree, by misunderstanding, or failure to perform engagements. I wish all my men to be happy and contented. The conditions of the hand-bills will be strictly complied with."

Accordingly he disbursed one hundred and forty-seven guineas (about $800.00) out of his own pocket, in making good the terms of the hand-bill. Is it any wonder that the gallant seaman was popular with his followers?

But the _Ranger_ lay at Brest--eager for action--her light sails furled; her spars shining with new varnish; her polished guns winking in the rays of the sun.

"Come, my Hearties!" cried Captain Jones on April the 10th, "we'll hie us out to the west coast of Ireland and see if our new ship cannot make a good name for herself."

Sails were hoisted upon the staunch, little vessel. Her bow was turned toward the ocean--and--with the new flag of the infant republic fluttering from her masts, the _Ranger_ went forth for battle, for plunder, and for glory. She was to get a little of each.

Arriving off the coast of Cumberland, and, learning from fishermen decoyed on board, that there was a large amount of shipping in the harbor of Whitehaven, with no warship of superior force in the neighborhood to protect it, the bold American skipper resolved to make a dash into this quiet cove, with a view of destroying the ships there in port. The British authorities had no suspicion of his presence in the Irish Sea.

As the _Ranger_ drew near to Whitehaven, the wind blew such a gale from the southwest, that it was impossible to land a boat.

"We must hold off until the breeze slackens!" cried bold Captain Jones. "This cannot last forever, and our opportunity will soon be here."

Sure enough--the wind died out about midnight of April 22nd--and the _Ranger_ beat up towards the town. When about five hundred yards from the shore, the vessel was hove to--two boats were lowered--and twenty-nine seamen, with third Lieutenant Wallingford, Midshipmen Arthur Green and Charles Hill, jumped into them. With Jones in command they hastened toward the coast.

The surprise was complete. Two small forts lay at the mouth of the harbor, but, as the seamen scrambled ashore, they were precipitately abandoned by the garrison of "coast-guards." Captain Jones, Midshipman Green, and six men rushed shouting upon one of these, capturing it without an effort; the other was taken by Lieutenant Wallingford and eight sailors,--while four were left behind as a boat-guard. A few pistols spattered, a few muskets rang; but, when the stout sea-dogs reached the tidal basin, where the shipping lay, the townsfolk were thoroughly aroused. Burning cotton was thrown on board of the ships lying at anchor, but only one took fire. It was full daylight, and the insignificance of Jones' force became evident to the townsfolk, who were rallying from all directions.

"Retreat to the ships," shouted the Yankee Captain, "there is no time to lose!"

The landing party--small as it was--had become separated into two groups; one commanded by Jones, the other by Wallingford. Thinking that Wallingford's party was, for the moment, more seriously menaced than his own, Jones attacked and dispersed--with his dozen men--a force of about one hundred of the local militia who were endeavoring to retake the lower fort, or battery, whose guns had been spiked by the Americans. The townsfolk and coast-guards had joined and were making a vigorous assault upon Wallingford. But shots flew thick and fast from the muskets of the followers of the daring Paul Jones--as they retreated to their own boats. The whole landing party--with the exception of one man--finally leaped safely into the boat, and were on board the _Ranger_ before the sun was an hour over the horizon.

Jones was delighted.

"The actual results of this affair," said he, "are of little moment, as we destroyed but one ship. The moral effect--however--is very great, as it has taught the English that the fancied security of their coasts is a Myth."

In fact this little raid of the valiant John Paul made the Government take expensive measures for the defense of numerous ports hitherto relying for protection upon the vigilance and supposed omnipotence of the navy. It also doubled the rates of marine insurance; which was the most grievous damage of all.

"Now to attack a castle!" cried Jones, "and bag an Earl, too, if he is around!"

The _Ranger_ was headed for Solway Firth--not more than three hours' sail away--where, upon St. Mary's Isle, was the castle of the Earl of Selkirk.

"If we can catch the noble owner of this keep," said John Paul, "we will hold him as hostage for the better treatment of American prisoners in England."

As luck would have it, the Earl was away at this particular time, and, although the wild sea-dogs of the _Ranger_ carried off several pieces of silverware from the castle, this was all that was captured. Lucky Earl! But, had he fallen into the clutches of John Paul, he would have been treated with the greatest consideration, for the Captain of the _Ranger_ was the most chivalrous of conquerors.

The _Ranger_ stood across the Irish Channel and next day ran into some fisher boats.

"Ah! Ha!" laughed one of the sons of Ireland. "The _Drake_--the guard-ship at Carrickfergus--is after you, and she's a twenty-gun sloop-of-war."

John Paul smiled.

"To lessen trouble," said he, "I'll heave-to off the mouth of Belfast Lough and wait for her to work out. This will save her the pains of coming after me."

So he luffed his ship, lay to, and waited for the _Drake_ to sail on. Her white sails could be seen more clearly as she neared the adventurous American. A boat was sent out to reconnoitre--but--as it approached, it was surrounded by tenders from the _Ranger_; a midshipman and five men in her, were made prisoners. Tide and wind were both against the _Drake_; she came on slowly; and, at an hour before sundown, was just within hail. The sea was fairly smooth, the wind southerly and very light.

"What ship is that?" sounded from the deck of the _Drake_.

"The American Continental ship _Ranger_," rang the clear reply. "Lay on! We are waiting for you!"

Both ships bore away before the wind and neared each other to within striking distance. _Boom!_ a broadside roared from the side of the _Drake_, and the fight had begun.

_Crash! Crash!_ Muskets spoke from the rigging of the _Ranger_, where several seamen had climbed in the endeavor to pick off the gunners on the deck of the British warship. There were one hundred and fifty-seven men upon the _Drake_; Paul Jones had one hundred and twenty-six. The _Drake_'s battery was sixteen nine-pounders and four sixes. Thus--you see--the advantage was clearly with the Britishers.

Both boats swung along under full canvas, pounding away at each other like prize-fighters. Spars were shattered; sails ripped; masts splintered in the hail of iron. And--as the fight progressed--it could be plainly seen that the marksmanship of those upon the _Drake_ was infinitely less accurate than that of the Americans.

"Every shot of our men told," said Jones--not long afterwards. "They gave the _Drake_ three broadsides for two, right along, at that. The behavior of my crew in this engagement more than justifies the representations I have often made, of what American sailors would do, if given a chance at the enemy in his own waters. We have seen that they fight with courage on our own coast--but fought here, almost in hail of the enemy's shore."

As the two ships were going off the wind, which was light, they both rolled considerably, and together; that is, when the _Ranger_ went down to port, the _Drake_ came up to starboard. The gunners upon the quarter-deck of the _Ranger_ timed their guns, so that they were fired as their muzzles went down and the enemy's side arose. By this practice they began to hull the _Drake_ below the water-line.

"Sink the English! Sink the English!" cried the powder-blackened fighters.

But Captain Jones thought differently.

"Don't sink her!" he yelled to gunner Starbuck, above the din of battle. "I want to take her alive, instead of destroying her; for it will be much more to our advantage if we carry her as a visible prize into a French port."

"All right, Cap'n!" shouted his men. "We'll cripple her aloft!"

They now fired as the muzzles rose, and, so terrific were their broadsides, that the fore and main topsail-yards came tumbling across the starboard quarter, in a tangle of ropes, sails, and rigging.

"Rake her! Rake her!" shouted Jones to his men.

The _Ranger_ luffed and crossed the stern of the _Drake_ with the purpose of spanking a full broadside down her decks. The British boat was badly crippled and had lost steering way.

But, before the well-aimed guns belched another destructive volley into the shattered Englishman, a white flag went aloft, and a voice came: "Hold your fire. We surrender!" The _Drake_ was a prisoner-of-war.

Thus Paul Jones had won a notable victory, and thus he had proved that the British were not invincible, and could be defeated, upon the sea, by their own cousins, as readily as upon the land.

When the _Ranger_ lay in the harbor of Brest, a few days later, with the _Drake_ alongside, boats crowded about in order to view the vessel which had captured another,--larger than herself. And, as the _Ranger_ had taken three merchant ships on the way to the coast of France, the black eyes of the natives shone with beady lustre as they gazed upon the graceful hull of the victorious sloop-of-war from Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

"See Monsieur Jones," said they, as they nudged each other. "Voila! Here is a man who is better than our own sailors. Look at this American sea-devil!"

And the chest of John Paul Jones swelled with pride.

Eager and active, the gallant Commodore was most unhappy during the next few months, for the _Ranger_ was ordered back to America--under his Lieutenant Simpson. Twenty-seven of his crew, however, elected to remain and fight with him, when he should get another command,--among them a little Narragansett Indian called Antony Jeremiah.

"Me like to see big gun shoot," said he. "Me like to walk on deck of enemy's big boat when you take it! Byme-by we take bigger ship than _Drake_ and kill heap more enemy! Ugh! Ugh!"

At this John Paul laughed.

"Antony Jeremiah," said he, "you shall witness one big fight if you stay with John Paul. You wait and see!"

And what John Paul had said soon came to pass.

"The French," writes the doughty warrior, "have little conception of an expedition such as I propose; to harry the coast and destroy the commerce of the enemy. Their idea is to leave all of that to privateers, of which I have already been offered a dozen commands. Some of the ships they fit out as privateers are really respectable frigates in size, and I have seen one, called the _Monsieur_, that mounts thirty-eight or forty guns. But I do not wish to engage in privateering. My object is not that of private gain, but to serve the public in a way that may reflect credit on our infant navy and give prestige to our country over the sea."

Noble sentiments--nobly expressed!

In spite of the gloomy outlook he at last secured a vessel from the King himself, called the _Duras_, which he re-christened "_Le Bon Homme Richard_"--"_The Good Richard_"--the name assumed by Dr. Benjamin Franklin when writing his famous "Almanack," except that he called him "Poor Richard." This was a well-merited compliment to the great and good man, who was then Commissioner from the United States to France, and a firm friend to the ardent John Paul. The vessel had forty guns, "and," writes the Minister of Marine, "as you may find too much difficulty in enlisting a sufficient number of Americans, the King permits you to levy French volunteers, until you obtain a full crew."

John Paul hastened to get her ready for a cruise. "I mounted twenty-eight long twelve-pounders on the gun-deck," he says, "put eight of the long nines on the quarter-deck, and discarded the six-pounders of her old battery. This gave her a battery of forty-two guns, throwing two hundred and fifty-eight pounds of metal in a single broadside. She was the fair equivalent of a thirty-six gun frigate."

From February to June she was worked over; refitted; resparred. On June 19th, 1779, the gallant John Paul Jones swung out into the English Channel; he, himself, in command of the _Good Richard_, which carried a crew of three hundred and seventy-five, not more than fifty of whom were Americans. Four other vessels were with him: the _Alliance_, a thirty-two gun frigate; the _Pallas_, a twenty-eight gun frigate; the _Vengeance_, a twelve gun brig; and the _Cerf_, a cutter.

On the second day out the _Alliance_ fouled the _Richard_, causing so much damage to both, that the squadron was compelled to return to port for repairs, which--with other transactions--consumed six weeks. But the accident was a lucky one, for numerous American sailors, who were in English prisons, were shortly exchanged with English seamen in French dungeons; and thus Paul Jones was able to man the _Good Richard_ with one hundred and fourteen native Americans, who were anxious to have a crack at those who had captured them but a short time before.

Finally, with refitted ships and reorganized crews, Paul Jones was ready to sail from the roadstead of Isle de Groaix, in the early part of August, 1779, bound upon his cruise around the British Islands. There were four ships in this squadron: the _Good Richard_; the _Alliance_, under Pierre Landais (a depraved and dishonest Frenchman); the _Pallas_, under Cottineau (an honest Frenchman); and the _Vengeance_, a sloop-of-war. The prevailing winds were light and baffling, so the squadron moved slowly.

War had been declared between France and England, and thus the English Channel was thronged with privateers from both countries. The _Richard_ and a French privateer, in company, re-captured a large ship belonging to Holland, but bound from Barcelona to Dunkirk, France, which had been taken some days before by an English vessel off Cape Ortegal and ordered into Falmouth, England. England and Holland were still at peace, at this time, but the English claimed the right to intercept and send into their own port for examination, all neutral vessels bound to French ports, as England and France were then at war. Commodore Jones took the English prize-crew out of the Dutch ship, as prisoners of war, and then ordered the ship into l'Orient in charge of her own crew, but under the command of one of his midshipmen, until she could come under the protection of a French port.

"Things are going well with us!" cried Captain Jones, rubbing his hands gleefully.

He soon felt much happier. For, on the morning of August 23rd, when in the vicinity of Cape Clear, the _Richard_ sent three boats, and afterwards a fourth, to take a brig that was becalmed in the northwest quarter--just out of gun-shot. It proved to be the _Fortune_, of Bristol, bound from Newfoundland for her home-port with whale-oil, salt fish, and barrel staves. Manned by a prize-crew of two warrant officers and six men, she was sent to Nantes.

All were happy. All were looking forward to a good fight. It was to come to them.

The little fleet of war-dogs sailed northward, and, on September 1st, about ten o'clock in the morning, the northwest promontory of Scotland was sighted. At the same instant, two large ships bore in sight on the same quarter, and another vessel appeared to windward.

"Bear up! Bear up!" cried Jones.

The _Richard_ held over toward the first two ships until he saw that it was the _Alliance_ and a prize she had taken about daylight,--a vessel bound for Jamaica, from London.

"Now chase the other fellow!" he cried, turning the wheel with his own hands, and soon the _Good Richard_ was bounding over the waves in hard pursuit of the second sail. Slowly but surely she was overhauled. Heavily armed, she did not surrender until after the exchange of several shots, which the _Richard_ pumped into her, after running up close enough to show her broadside.

A boat soon carried a number of seamen to take possession of her, and she proved to be the British privateer, the _Union_, mounting twenty-two six-pounders, and bound northward from London to Quebec, in Canada, laden with a cargo of naval and military stores for the British troops and flotillas on the Lakes. The _Union_ also carried a valuable mail, including dispatches for Sir William Howe, in New York, and Sir Guy Carleton, in Canada. "These were lost," writes John Paul to good Doctor Franklin, at Paris, for the _Alliance_ imprudently showed American colors, though English colors were still flying on the _Bon Homme Richard_; "the enemy thereby being induced to throw his papers of importance overboard before we could take possession of him." The prizes were manned from the _Alliance_ and sent (by Landais) into the seaport of Bergen, in Norway.

The squadron now beat down the east coast of Scotland, and, after capturing five or six small prizes, rounded-to off the Firth of Forth.

"I intend to attack the port of Leith!" cried Jones, "as I understand that it is defended only by a small guard-ship of twenty-two guns, and an old fortification (old Leith Fort) garrisoned by a detachment of Militia."

The wind was adverse, blowing off shore, with frequent heavy squalls, but about noon of the 17th of September, the _Richard_ and the _Pallas_ beat up within gun-shot of Leith Fort and were lowering away their tenders in order to land, when a heavy Northwest gale sprang up, compelling them to hoist their boats, and put to sea. The gale lasted about twenty-four hours, but, on the morning of the 19th, the wind took another turn, the sea grew calm, and Jones proposed to renew the attack upon Leith. The Commander of the _Pallas_ made strong objection to this. "I do not believe that we should stay here," cried he. "If we persist in the attempt to remain on this station three days longer, we shall have a squadron of heavy frigates, if not a ship of line, to deal with. Convinced of this, I offer it as my judgment that we had better work along the shore to-day and to-morrow, as far as Spurn Head, and then, if we do not fall in with the Baltic merchant fleet, stand off the coast and make the best of our way to Dunkirk."

Commodore Jones spent a few moments in reflection. "You are probably right, Cottineau," said he. "I only wish that another man like you were in command of the _Alliance_. However, we cannot help what is and must make the best of it. Go aboard your ship and make sail to the south-southwest. Speak the _Vengeance_ as you run down, and tell Ricot--her commander--to rendezvous off Spurn Head. I will bring up the rear with this ship. We may fall in with the Baltic fleet between here and Scarboro', which is usually their first English port of destination at this time of the year. Should you happen to sight the _Alliance_, inform Captain Landais of our destination, but do not communicate it to him as an order, because that would be likely to expose you only to insult."

The two ships turned South, and the next three days were without events of importance. At length they neared the harbor of Scarboro', and, as they hovered about twelve miles off the land, they saw some vessels making for the shore, and protecting a fleet of merchantmen.

"They're a heavy man-of-war--either a fifty-gun frigate, or a fifty-four--with a large ship-of-war in company," cried one of his Lieutenants, who had been watching them through a glass. "The Captain of the larger one has cleverly manoeuvered to protect his merchant ship."

Commodore Jones seemed to be much pleased.

"At last we'll have a little fight," cried he. "Bear hard for the land, and get between the larger vessel and the shore!"

Captain Cottineau was signalled to and requested to go after the sloop-of-war. About sundown the _Richard_ succeeded in weathering the large frigate and manoeuvered between her and the land.

The ships neared each other very gradually, for the breeze was slight. They were on opposite tacks and Commodore Jones readily made out the force and rate of his antagonist. By the light of the dying day--for it was about seven P. M.--he saw that she was a new forty-four; a perfect beauty. It was the _Serapis_--Captain Richard Pearson commanding--but six months off the stocks and on her first cruise as a convoy to the Baltic fleet of merchantmen: consisting of about forty vessels laden with timber and other naval stores for the use of the British dockyards. Jones had hoped to have an opportunity to attack this flotilla, but his plans had been frustrated by the vigilance and skill of the commander of the men-of-war in convoy.

Even now Landais might have got among the merchantmen in the fast-sailing _Alliance_, while Jones and Cottineau occupied the attention of the two men-of-war; but the French officer did not have sufficient courage to tackle them, and kept well beyond striking distance.

The Captain of the _Serapis_ stood upon the deck, intently gazing at the on-coming vessel.

"Gad Zooks!" he uttered. "From the size of her spars and her height out of water I take her to be a French fifty of the time of the last war. It's too dark for me to see whether she has any lower ports or not." He raised his night glasses to his eyes, and, in the light of the full moon which was now flooding the sea with a silvery haze, saw that his opponent was intent upon a fight.

"It is probably Paul Jones," said he, lowering the glasses. "If so--there's tight work ahead. What ship is that?" he cried out in loud tones.

No answer came from the dark hull of the _Good Richard_, but, as she swung nearer upon the rolling waves, suddenly a flash, a roar, and a sheet of flame belched from her side. The battle was on!

It was a struggle which has been talked of for years. It was a battle about which the world never seems to tire of reading. It was _the_ battle which has made the name of John Paul Jones nautically immortal.

The two warriors of the deep were on the same tack, headed northwest, driven by a slight wind which veered to the westward. The sea was smooth, the sky was clear, the full moon was rising--the conditions for a night struggle were ideal.

_Crash! Crash! Crash!_

Broadside after broadside rolled and shrieked from ship to ship, as the air was filled with flying bits of iron.

_Crash! Crash! Crash!_

Travelling very slowly, for the wind was little more than sufficient to give them steering-way in the tide, the two antagonists drifted along for twenty minutes, at cable length (600 to 900 feet--about the distance of the 220 yard dash). But suddenly--_Boom!_ an explosion sounded in the gun-room of the _Good Richard_. Two of her eighteen-pounders had blown up back of the trunnions; many of the crew lay dead and dying, the after part of the main gun-deck was shattered like a reed: Senior Midshipman and Acting Lieutenant John Mayrant--who had command of this battery--was severely wounded in the head by a fragment of one of the exploded shells, and was scorched by the blast of flame.

"Abandon your guns!" shouted First Lieutenant Dale, "and report with your remaining men to the main-deck battery!"

"All right!" answered Mayrant, as he bound a white kerchief around his bleeding head. "I'll be with you just as soon as I give them one more shot."