Part 6

The Scotch captain and young Indian had a very delicate task facing them. Before they could spike the cannon the sentinels must be secured. Stealing along in the shadows of the great walls of the first fort, they discovered that all of the guardsmen were unsuspiciously enjoying a game of cards in the guard-house itself. As quick as lightning Paul Jones and Wannashego sprang forward and barred the door, making the men prisoners. Then, without loss of time, the two Americans began scaling the walls of the fort. When the cannon here had been successfully spiked, they hurried to the second fort, a quarter of a mile distant, and in the same manner confined the sentinels there and spiked the guns.

This was surely a daring exploit for two to perform, when the alarm might be sounded any moment and the whole town swoop down upon them.

After the task had been performed, Paul Jones naturally expected to see the fires which his parties were to start. To his great disappointment no welcome flare showed itself in either direction. In the dim light of early dawn--that alarming dawn, so little desired--the captain hurried forward, only to discover that the party under Mr. Hill and Mr. Wallingford were in considerable confusion. The fires they had ignited had refused to burn, and their candles had gone out as well. It was the same situation with the other party; their candles also had gone out, and there seemed no way to relight them.

Although the day was coming on apace and danger of discovery grew with it, the dauntless Scotch commander would not give up his project until every expedient had been exhausted. Placing sentinels to guard against a surprise, he sent Wannashego and a few men to the nearest house. The inmates were forced to deliver lights for the candles. With the aid of these a fire was soon started in the steerage of a large ship, which was in the midst of a hundred or more others. To make sure that this blaze would not burn out, a barrel of tar was placed upon it. In a short time flames were springing up out of all hatchways in the vessel.

Now the inhabitants of the town began to appear in hundreds. Individuals ran angrily toward the burning ship, bent on extinguishing the flames before they should communicate to the adjoining vessels.

"They must not be permitted to put out this fire now or our plans are ruined completely!" cried Paul Jones. With the words he sprang between the ship and the foremost of those running up, drew two pistols from his belt, and leveled them at the angry faces.

"One step nearer and some of you will be dead men!" cried the Scotch captain. "Back with you as fast as you came, else by the eternal day and night you shall feel this lead!"

"Why, it's Paul Jones!" called somebody in the throng, who recognized him.

Instantly the crowd fell back in fright. Not a man among them but who had heard of the things this daredevil had already done to the ships of their countrymen.

Paul Jones smiled grimly, as the people continued to retreat before his menacing pistols. Nor did he once leave his post until the ship back of him was a mass of flames and the whole shipping in the neighborhood hopelessly afire from it. Then he stepped coolly down into one of his boats, which had been brought up, and in company with the other, without the loss of a single man, he went back to the _Ranger_.

If the attempt had been made an hour earlier it is impossible to estimate the damage the Americans might have done, but dawn saved the town of Whitehaven, also half of the shipping. Paul Jones was disappointed because his plans had in a measure miscarried. But he had accomplished much for his country just the same. The excitement along the coast was intense. Every English port, nervous and trembling, was on the watch for the bold invader. No Englishman felt safe so long as Paul Jones roamed the sea at will. Much less did British captains feel secure.

XI

OUTWITTING THE "DRAKE"

As the _Ranger_ once more spread her sails and stood out to sea, Paul Jones turned to his first-lieutenant and said:

"Mr. Wallingford, have her head pointed across the Firth. There lays my old home-town of Arbigland which I have seen but once since I was twelve years old----"

"Pardon me, sir," interrupted the first officer; "surely you do not think of attacking your own birthplace?"

"Indeed not," was the sharp and somewhat impatient rejoinder. "Though it belongs to the enemy, that would be the act of a man without heart and conscience. Please hear me out. Not far from my home there lives in the same county of Kirkcudbright a most important personage to British interests. This is the Earl of Selkirk. In lieu of the only partial success of our descent upon Whitehaven I propose to even up matters this very day by calling upon the good earl and taking him hostage."

This was a daring conception, and Lieutenant Wallingford gasped. The _Ranger_ was held to her new course, straight north across the Firth of Solway. When the ship came in view of the northern coast, her commander stood watching the high cliffs about Arbigland with a strange mixture of feelings. We shall never know exactly what thoughts stirred him, as he was a man not given to referring to his deeper sensations, but we may well infer that, in the short space of time he stood there studying the familiar landmarks of his care-free and happy boyhood, he lived over again the days of that period, climbed again the crags after sea-birds' eggs, sailed again his toy boats in the quiet coves.

St. Mary's Isle, a beautifully wooded promontory in the river Dee, was where the Earl of Selkirk lived in luxurious but quiet style. This was about a mile up the coast from Arbigland, and although Paul Jones had never met the Scotch nobleman or any of his family, he knew the location of the Selkirk broad acres as well as he knew the best fishing grounds in the Firth.

He landed on St. Mary's Isle with one boat and twelve men. Pointing out the path to take, and warning his men to commit no violence other than that which might be required in securing the earl himself, the captain awaited their return. In a short time they were back again, bringing a considerable quantity of silver plate, but without the earl, who they declared was not at home.

Paul Jones was very angry because his sailors had taken the silver plate. He used every argument except force in trying to get them to return it at once. When he saw that they were bent upon keeping the spoil, he said no more, but departed with them, for he knew well that the rules of war made confiscation perfectly legal.

Later on he wrote the Countess of Selkirk a long letter of apology and explanation, stating that he would exert every endeavor to return the plate to her. This he did, and succeeded, although in so doing it was necessary for him to go down into his own pocket for £150 in order to buy it back.

Paul Jones next turned his attention to an effort to capture the British man-of-war _Drake_, a vessel of twenty guns--two guns stronger than his own ship. This, too, was a bold undertaking, particularly in view of the fact that the _Drake_ was known to carry a larger crew and was in her own waters. But the intrepid sea-king was not to be deterred. He had encountered this same vessel once before, several days before the attack on Whitehaven, when he was standing off Carrickfergus, and when she was anchored in the bay. During the night he had run in and tried to work into a position where he could board her quickly, surprise her crew, and overwhelm them before they could offer serious enough resistance to get aid from the big gray fortification which frowned down over the harbor from the massive heights above. But, owing to the strong wind which had prevailed at the time, the plan was frustrated; and the _Ranger_ had quietly withdrawn to sea again without her foe knowing what a narrow escape she had met with.

Then Paul Jones had assuaged the disappointment of himself and his men with the remark: "Never mind, my brave fellows; that British sloop shall be ours yet, mark my words. When we are through with Whitehaven we shall look her up again."

And now the doughty captain meant to fulfil his promise!

On the morning of the 24th of April the _Ranger_ was once more off Carrickfergus. The bay, the castled crag, the picturesque town, and the handsome British sloop-of-war, all stood out brilliantly in the clear sunlight.

But this time the American vessel was not destined to get in close to her enemy without suspicion. The very night before, word had been brought of the attack on Whitehaven, and as a consequence the entire populace of Carrickfergus was ready to look askance at the coming of every strange ship. As the _Ranger_ appeared in the offing, therefore, she was immediately observed by the British aboard the _Drake_, and the American sailors could hear the creaking of the foe-ship's capstan and the hoarse rattle of the chains as her anchor was tripped in readiness for an emergency.

The _Ranger_ now went completely about, her stern toward the shore. This was the best way possible to hide her identity, for it was seen that a boat was putting off from the English sloop and pulling toward them, apparently bent upon investigation. When the boat had approached within hailing distance of the American, one of its inmates--a British officer--stood up and cried: "What ship is that?"

Paul Jones, standing at his sailing-master's elbow, quietly prompted him in his answers.

"The _Saltandpepperforbritish_" replied Mr. Stacy so rapidly that all the words were a meaningless jumble to the Englishmen, who, however, caught the word "British" with some feeling of ease. Drawing a little closer, the officer repeated his question: "What ship is that? We cannot make out your answer."

"We've had fair winds, but glad to get in here," answered Mr. Stacy, pretending to have misunderstood the question.

There was an impatient remark from the British officer at this. He said something to his men. The boat of the enemy then drew up considerably nearer. By this time the craft was directly under the _Ranger's_ quarter.

"I ask you for the third and last time, what ship is that?" hailed the British officer.

"And I answer again and for the last time, she is the _Lord Dunmore_, bound from Plymouth to London," called Mr. Stacy in an apparently exasperated voice. Then, again prompted by his captain, he went on: "Have you heard anything of that American cruiser which has been prowling about capturing merchant ships and frightening our coast people half out of their wits?"

"Yes," was the reply of the officer, now completely off his guard. "We would give a thousand pounds to meet her."

"If you will come aboard, our captain says he will give you further particulars about this impudent American," continued Mr. Stacy. "We think this news will aid you in finding him."

Unsuspiciously the British boat now came up, and a ladder was lowered over the port side. Just then one of the _Ranger's_ own boats was dropped from the davits; it was quickly filled with men, and as the British officer clambered on deck and faced Paul Jones the American sailors made prisoners of his crew.

"What is the meaning of this?" cried the British officer. "Who are you, sir?"

"Captain Paul Jones," came the quick answer. "This is the American sloop-of-war _Ranger_, about which we promised you information. If you require further details, it is only proper for me to state that you are a prisoner of war on that ship at this moment!"

The officer uttered an exclamation of anger. But his chagrin was not greater than that of the other men aboard the boat when they were brought aboard and all sent below.

This whole proceeding had been witnessed from the _Drake_ in a more or less hazy manner, but yet in a way to give the British aboard that vessel a fair idea of the catastrophe which had attended the efforts of their compatriots to learn the identity of the stranger. She immediately sent out alarm signals, and in a few minutes smoking bonfires along the entire headlands were relaying the startling intelligence to inland points.

In a little while the _Drake_, accompanied by five small vessels filled with townspeople curious to witness what they thought would be a battle, began to work out. She came very slowly, owing to an unfavorable tide. It was plain to be seen that her "dander was up;" that she meant to look into the plight of her boat's crew without further delay.

The _Ranger_ now threw off every effort at disguise. Her portlids were run up, her guns run out, and everything put in trim for a hard fight. As the enemy came nearer and weathered the point, the _Ranger_ cunningly and almost imperceptibly worked herself farther out into the channel where she would have more sea room for the engagement and be farther away from the guns of the fort. Thus led on, the _Drake_ followed, slowly narrowing up the space between.

Now the British ship ran up her colors. At the same instant up went the Stars-and-Stripes aboard the American. Having come within hailing distance, the British commander, Captain Burden, called out: "Who are you?"

"The Continental ship _Ranger_," cried back Mr. Stacy, at word from Paul Jones. "Come on, we are waiting for you!"

Scarcely were the words spoken when the _Ranger's_ helm was ported, and bringing her broadside to bear on the advancing ship, she roared out the first volley. The enemy at once returned the compliment. While her fire was spirited, somehow it lacked effectiveness, which is probably attributable to the distress and confusion caused on board of her by the stunning effect of the American's shooting. In a letter to Joseph Hewes, Paul Jones thus refers to the manner in which his men handled themselves: "We have seen that our men fight with courage on our own coasts. But no one has ever seen them fight on our coast as they fought here, almost in hail of the enemy's shore. Every shot told, and they gave the _Drake_ three broadsides for two right along...."

On board the _Ranger_, Paul Jones walked the quarter-deck unharmed, amid a constant shower of musketry and the shriek of cannon-ball. Captain Burden, of the _Drake_, showed an equal disregard for danger, but within thirty minutes after the beginning of the fight he was mortally wounded by a musket shot in the head. Paul Jones was unaware of this fact until, during the hottest of the firing, his friend Wannashego glided quickly up to where he stood and announced the news.

"I am sorry for him, for he has shown himself to be a brave man; but it is the way of war," said the commander. "Did you see him shot, Wannashego?"

In his dusky hands the Indian youth held a musket whose barrel was hot to the touch and from which a tiny thread of smoke still curled. "I sure see British captain fall," he said with flashing eyes, as he patted his gun. "I take good aim at him. It is the first chance for me. Bang! They pick him up and carry him away."

With the words Wannashego hurried off, reloading his weapon as he ran. Paul Jones was thunderstruck. After a moment he muttered, "Poor Burden, your very importance in this conflict has caught the eagle eye of that young redskin and spelled your doom!"

The fighting continued fiercely. Twice was the ensign of the _Drake_ shot away, and twice the gallant British tars rehoisted it. The enemy's fore and main topsail yards were completely riddled, the main topgallant mast and mizzen gaff hung up and down the spar, her jib dragged over her lee into the water, and her mainsails were a sieve of holes.

Never had Paul Jones seen men fight more tigerishly or with better aim than his were now doing. As the two ships were going off the wind, which was light, they both rolled considerably and together; in other words, when the _Ranger_ went down to port the _Drake_ came up to starboard. Quite early in the action, the Scotch captain had noticed that his quarter-gunners had caught the _Drake's_ period of roll and were timing to fire as their muzzles went down and the enemy's came up. By this practice they were hulling the British ship prodigiously below her water-line and everywhere below her rail.

"What are you firing in that fashion for?" demanded Paul Jones of Midshipman Starbuck.

"To sink the British galoots, sir!"

"That is not my object," said the captain sharply. "Cease this destruction of the ship, and conduct yourselves so as to capture her instead."

The alert fellows instantly changed their tactics, and soon had the _Drake_ an unmanageable log on the water, with her crew crying for quarter. When, after the desperate fighting of a little more than an hour, an accounting was taken it was found that the _Ranger_ had suffered very little from the inaccurate fire of the British. True, she had lost two lives, among these Lieutenant Wallingford, and had six wounded; but her opponent had lost her commander and nineteen others killed, with twenty-eight officers and men wounded. The only officer remaining to strike her flag had been her second-lieutenant.

With a towline fastened to her prize, the _Ranger_ now passed out of the lough and up St. George's Channel. About midnight she hove to, and there under the starlight the dead heroes of the conflict were sewn up in canvas and consigned to the deep with a fitting burial service.

With a valuable prize and more than one hundred and forty prisoners of war to look after, Paul Jones was now forced to give up his intention of cruising around Scotland. After taking a vessel off Malin Head he became further handicapped, and determined to make for Brest without additional delay.

And now came that long-dreamed-of and hoped-for hour when he was to enter a French port bringing a ship superior to his own--one belonging to the finest navy afloat, a feat which had never before happened in the history of naval warfare. As he sailed through the outer roads of Brest he was met by an escort of French warships, whose crews cheered lustily when they learned the identity of his prize.

It was past midnight when the _Ranger_ let go anchor. Everything then seemed quiet, but like wildfire the news of the daring captain's return spread over the town. When daylight broke the quays were swarming with people, and the harbor was dotted with boats bearing passengers, all of whom were eager to catch a glimpse of the vanquished _Drake_ and her conqueror.

XII

THE QUEER CONDUCT OF CAPTAIN LANDAIS

The next morning Captain Paul Jones woke up to find himself famous--almost overwhelmed with the praise and attentions of the naval officers of Brest as well as of all France. The Duc De Chartres was the first to come aboard, brimming with congratulations, and for the two days the _Ranger_ lay in the harbor her decks thronged with officers of the French fleet and citizens who were eager to rejoice with the conqueror.

Then the other side of the picture began to show; the stern realities of France's disturbed political condition had to be faced. The _Ranger_, with her splendid prize, had gone to the deckyard for repairs, and the problem of feeding and clothing the three hundred men constituting his own crew and that of the _Drake_ had to be met by Paul Jones. The Congress still owed him £1500 which he had advanced out of his own pocket for paying the crews of his former ships, the _Providence_ and the _Alfred_, and this outlay had depleted his funds to such an extent that he had very little money left, so little that he now saw he would have to draw upon the commissioners a draft for 24,000 livres, which Congress had given him. To his annoyance the three commissioners promptly dishonored his draft. As a result, the merchant with whom he had contracted to refit the _Ranger_ and the _Drake_, as well as to supply his crew and prisoners with provisions, declined to extend further credit.

This state of affairs put our hero in a very embarrassing position, and nettled him intensely. Had it not been for the fine friendship of such Frenchmen as the Duc De Chartres, Comte D'Orvillers, and M. Chaumont, through whose benevolence he was for a time able to feed and clothe his people, heal his wounded, and continue the refitting of his vessels, it is hard to tell what he would have done.

In the crude, undisciplined condition of the United States Navy in that day the crews could not seem to comprehend the idea that it was necessary to obey every order of the commander of a ship without raising a question. Almost at the instant of the engagement between the _Ranger_ and the _Drake_, Lieutenant Simpson, the trouble-maker of the past, had used his influence in stirring up some of the crew to a state bordering on insubordination, telling them that being Americans fighting for liberty they had a right to fight the enemy in any way they chose, regardless of a commander's program. Paul Jones had stopped this threatened uprising by confining Simpson below. On reaching port he had transferred him to the _Admiral_, a ship where the French put men of his type.

After Simpson had been imprisoned, an American agent named Hezekiah Ford, who disliked the Scotch captain, got up a petition condemning Paul Jones and praising the conduct of Simpson in the sea fight. By smooth arguments to the effect that they would never get their prize money unless Lieutenant Simpson were made captain in place of Paul Jones, Ford induced seventy-eight of the _Ranger's_ crew to sign this petition. The result was, that the rascally lieutenant was freed at his court-martial, and sailed away a little later for America, as master of the refitted _Ranger_.

When Paul Jones heard of the doings of Hezekiah Ford, he was terribly incensed. Tucking three pistols in his belt, he betook himself to the inn where Ford stopped. Without pausing long enough to draw even one of his pistols, he knocked Ford down with a lightning-like blow of his fist, seized the coachman's whip and thrashed the scoundrel until he cried for mercy. Big, long-limbed, weighing half as much again as Paul Jones, he offered no resistance--just curled up and blubbered like the coward he was, while the onlookers cheered the Scotchman with keen delight. Six months later, following other discoveries of his duplicity, Ford was denounced as a spy and traitor by the governor of Virginia, and Congress dishonorably dismissed him from the service after he had fled to London with valuable papers.

Before the _Ranger_ sailed under the captaincy of Mr. Simpson, Paul Jones had met the expenses of her crew with the utmost difficulty. The credit obtained from his French friends did not meet all the heavy obligations, and after a while, in order to keep his men from starving, he was forced to sell the _Drake_ at auction to a French ship-broker. This act was strictly against the rules and regulations of his country, but in the dire need of his crew and prisoners he felt that extreme measures must be adopted to raise the funds which he could get in no other manner. With this money he managed to pay off all indebtedness, and so it was with a clear conscience, if a bitter heart, that he saw the sly Simpson finally make off with his own ship, and many of his crew, leaving him alone in a foreign land.

War had now broken out between England and France, and Paul Jones was detained in Europe at the request of the French Minister of Marine. This official, De Sartine, wished an important command to be assigned to the famous conqueror of the _Drake_. The difficulties in the way, however, were great. The American commissioners had few resources, in addition to which one of them--Lee--was hostile to the Scotchman; and the French had more native officers clamoring for the better ships than they had such vessels.