28633	----	The Riverside Biographical Series NUMBER 12 PAUL JONES BY HUTCHINS HAPGOOD * * * * * The Riverside Biographical Series 1. ANDREW JACKSON, by W. G. BROWN. 2. JAMES B. EADS, by LOUIS HOW. 3. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, by PAUL E. MORE. 4. PETER COOPER, by R. W. RAYMOND. 5. THOMAS JEFFERSON, by H. C. MERWIN. 6. WILLIAM PENN, by GEORGE HODGES. 7. GENERAL GRANT, by WALTER ALLEN. 8. LEWIS AND CLARK, by WILLIAM R. LIGHTON. 9. JOHN MARSHALL, by JAMES B. THAYER. 10. ALEXANDER HAMILTON, by CHAS. A. CONANT. 11. WASHINGTON IRVING, by H. W. BOYNTON. 12. PAUL JONES, by HUTCHINS HAPGOOD. 13. STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS, by W. G. BROWN. 14. SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN, by H. D. SEDGWICK, Jr. 15. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS, by HORACE E. SCUDDER. Each about 140 pages, 16mo, with photogravure portrait, vols. 1-9, 75 cents; other subsequent vols., each 65 cents, _net_; _School Edition_, each, 50 cents, _net_. HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. BOSTON AND NEW YORK. * * * * * [Illustration: Paul Jones [signature]] * * * * * PAUL JONES BY HUTCHINS HAPGOOD [Illustration: Publisher's logo] BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY The Riverside Press, Cambridge 1901 COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY HUTCHINS HAPGOOD ALL RIGHTS RESERVED _Published November, 1901_ PREFACE The amount of material bearing on Paul Jones is very large, and consists mainly of his extensive correspondence, published and unpublished, his journals, memoirs by his private secretary and several of his officers, published and unpublished impressions by his contemporaries, and a number of sketches and biographies, some of which contain rich collections of his letters and extracts from his journals. The biographies which I have found most useful are the "Life," by John Henry Sherburne, published in 1825, which is mainly a collection of Jones's correspondence; another volume, composed largely of extracts from his letters and journals, called the "Janette-Taylor Collection," published in 1830; the first and only extended narrative at once readable and impartial, by Alexander Slidell MacKenzie, published in 1845; and the recently published "Life" by Augustus C. Buell. To Mr. Buell's exhaustive work I am indebted for considerable original material not otherwise accessible to me. On the basis of the foregoing mass of material I have attempted, in a short sketch, to give merely an unbiased account of the man. CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. EARLY VOYAGES 1 II. CRUISES OF THE PROVIDENCE AND THE ALFRED 17 III. THE CRUISE OF THE RANGER 30 IV. EFFORTS IN FRANCE TO SECURE A COMMAND 44 V. THE FIGHT WITH THE SERAPIS 56 VI. DIPLOMACY AT THE TEXEL 70 VII. SOCIETY IN PARIS 80 VIII. PRIVATE AMBITION AND PUBLIC BUSINESS 91 IX. IN THE RUSSIAN SERVICE 108 X. LAST DAYS 118 _The portrait is from the original by C. W. Peale, in Independence Hall_ PAUL JONES I EARLY VOYAGES John Paul, known as Paul Jones, who sought restlessly for distinction all his life, was born the son of a peasant, in July, 1747, near the ocean on which he was to spend a large portion of his time. His father lived in Scotland, near the fishing hamlet of Arbigland, county of Kirkcudbright, on the north shore of Solway Firth, and made a living for the family of seven children by fishing and gardening. The mother, Jeanne Macduff, was the daughter of a Highlander, and in Paul Jones's blood the Scotch canniness and caution of his Lowland father was united with the wild love of physical action native to his mother's race. Little is known of the early life of the fifth and famous child of the Scotch gardener. He went to the parish school, but not for long, for the sea called him at an early age. When he was twelve years old he could handle his fishing-boat like a veteran. His skill and daring were the talk of the village. One day James Younger, a ship-owning merchant from Whitehaven, then a principal seaport on the neighboring coast of England, visited Arbigland, in search of seamen for one of his vessels. It happened on that day that Paul Jones was out in his yawl when a severe squall arose. Mr. Younger and the villagers watched the boy bring his small sailing-boat straight against the northeaster into the harbor; and Mr. Younger expressed his surprise to Paul's father, who remarked: "That's my boy conning the boat, Mr. Younger. This isn't much of a squall for him." The result was that Mr. Younger took Paul back with him to Whitehaven, bound shipmaster's apprentice. A little while after that, Paul Jones made his first of a series of merchant-ship voyages to the colonies and the West Indies. He continued in Mr. Younger's employ for four years; when he was seventeen he made a round voyage to America as second mate, and was first mate a year later. Paul left Mr. Younger's service in 1766 and acquired a sixth interest in a ship called King George's Packet, in which he went, as first mate, to the West Indies. The business instinct, always strong in him, received some satisfaction during this voyage by the transportation of blacks from Africa to Jamaica, where they were sold as slaves. The slave-trade was not regarded at that time as dishonorable, but Jones's eagerness to engage in "any private enterprise"--a phrase constantly used by him--was not accompanied by any keen moral sensitiveness. He was always in pursuit of private gain or immediate or posthumous honor, and his grand sentiments, of which he had many, were largely histrionic in type. After one more voyage he gave up the slave-trading business, probably because he realized that no real advancement lay in that line. On the John O'Gaunt, in which Jones shipped for England, after leaving Jamaica, the captain, mate, and all but five of the crew died of yellow fever, and the ship was taken by Paul into Whitehaven. For this he received a share in the cargo, and in 1768, when he was twenty-one years old, the owners of the John (a merchantman sailing from the same port) gave him command, and in her he made several voyages to America. Life on a merchantman is rough enough to-day, and was still rougher at that time. To maintain discipline at sea requires a strong hand and a not too gentle tongue, and Jones was fully equipped in these necessaries. During the third voyage of the John, when fever had greatly reduced the crew, Mungo Maxwell, a Jamaica mulatto, became mutinous, and Jones knocked him down with a belaying pin. Jones satisfactorily cleared himself of the resulting charge of murder, and gave, during the trial, one of the earliest evidences of his power to express himself almost as clearly and strongly in speech as in action. Up to this time in Paul's career there are two facts which stand out definitely: one, that his rough life, in association with common seamen from the time that he was twelve years old, and his lack of previous education, made difficult his becoming what he ardently desired to be,--a cultivated gentleman. Stories told of his impulsive roughness in later life, such as the quaint ones of how he used to kick his lieutenants and then invite them to dinner, are probable enough. It is even more clear, however, that in some way he had educated himself, not only in seamanship and navigation, but also in naval history and in the French and Spanish languages, to a considerable degree. On a voyage his habit was to study late at night, and on shore, instead of carousing with his associates, to hunt out the most distinguished person he could find, or otherwise to improve his condition. His passion for acquisition was enormous, but his early education was so deficient that his handwriting always remained that of a schoolboy. He dictated many of his innumerable letters, particularly those in French, which language he spoke incorrectly but fluently. It was during Paul's last voyage as captain of a merchantman that the event took place which determined him to change his name and to live in America. Several years previously his brother, who had been adopted by a Virginia planter named Jones, had come at the death of the latter into possession of the property, and Captain Paul was named as next in succession. In 1773, when the captain reached the Rappahannock during his final merchant voyage, he found his brother dying, and, in accordance with the terms of old Jones's will, he took the name by which he is famous and became the owner of the plantation. He consequently gave up his sea life and settled down to "calm contemplation and poetic ease," as he expressed it at a later period. But Jones was very far from being contemplative, although he certainly was rather fond of inflated poetry, and even as a planter, surrounded by his acres and his slaves, there is no evidence that he led a lazy life. He seems to have been partly occupied in continuing the important acquaintances he had made at the intervals between his voyages and in watching the progress of events leading to war with England. Jones was given to gallantry, and while on the plantation he carried on the social affairs which he afterwards continued, as recognized hero and chevalier of France, on a magnificent scale. He resisted, as he did all through his life, any benevolent efforts on the part of the colonial dames to marry him off, and as the war grew nearer his activity in promoting it grew greater. He made frequent visits to his patriot friends, met, besides Joseph Hewes, whom he had already known, Thomas Jefferson, Philip Livingston, Colonel Washington and the Lees, and was later, if not at this time, in an intimate official relation with Robert and Gouverneur Morris. In Jones's intercourse with these men he showed himself one of the most fiery of Whigs. In a letter to Joseph Hewes written in 1774, he tells how a British officer made a remark reflecting on the virtue of colonial women. "I at once knocked Mr. Parker down," he adds, in a style that suggests the straightforward character of his official reports. Although dueling was at that time the conventional method of settling affairs of that nature, no personal encounter resulted between Jones and Mr. Parker. Jones, indeed, did not seem averse to such an issue, for he sent a friend to propose pistols, with which he was a crack shot. It is nevertheless a striking fact that Paul Jones, the desperate fighter, who was certainly as brave as any one, and was often placed in favorable situations for such settlements, never fought a duel. Add to this that his temper was quick and passionate, and that he had to the full the high-flown sentiments of honor of the time, and the fact seems all the more remarkable. The truth is that Jones was as cautious as he was brave. He acted sometimes impulsively, but reflection quickly came, and he never manifested a dare-devil desire to put his life unnecessarily in danger. When there was anything to be gained by exposing his person, he did it with the utmost coolness, but he consistently refused to put himself at a disadvantage. When, on at least one occasion, he was challenged to fight with swords, with which he was only moderately skillful, he demanded pistols. Fame was Jones's end, and he knew that premature death was inconsistent with that consummation. Although Jones was, at the time, in financial difficulties, he no doubt welcomed the outbreak of the war. Service in the cause of the colonies could not be remunerative, and Jones knew it. A privateering command would have paid better than a regular commission, but Jones constantly refused such an appointment; and yet he has been called buccaneer and pirate by many who have written about him, including as recent writers as Rudyard Kipling, John Morley, and Theodore Roosevelt. Nor is it likely that a feeling of patriotism led Jones to serve the colonies against his native land. The reason lay in his overpowering desire of action. He saw in the service of the colonies an opportunity to employ his energies on a larger and more glorious scale than in any other way. Service in the British navy in an important capacity was impossible for a man with no family or position. Jones accordingly went in for the highest prize within his reach, and with the instinct of the true sportsman served well the side he had for the time espoused. Soon after the battle of Lexington Jones wrote a letter to Joseph Hewes, sending copies to Jefferson, Robert Morris, and Livingston. "I cannot conceive of submission to complete slavery. Therefore only war is in sight.... I beg you to keep my name in your memory when the Congress shall assemble again, and ... to call upon me in any capacity which your knowledge of my seafaring experience and your opinion of my qualifications may dictate." Soon after Congress met, a Marine Committee, Robert Morris, chairman, was appointed, and Jones was requested to report on the "proper qualifications of naval officers and the kind of armed vessels most desirable for the service of the United States, keeping in view the limited resources of the Congress." He was also asked to serve on a committee to report upon the availability of the vessels at the disposal of Congress. Jones was practically the head of this committee, and showed the utmost industry and efficiency in selecting, arming, and preparing for sea the unimportant vessels within the disposition of the government. At the beginning of the war there was no American navy. Some of the colonies had, indeed, fitted out merchant vessels with armaments, to resist the aggressions of the British on their coasts, and in several instances the cruisers of the enemy had been captured while in port by armed citizens. The colonial government had empowered Washington, as commander in chief, to commission some of these improvised war vessels of the colonies to attack, in the service of the "continent," the transports and small cruisers of the British, in order to secure powder for the Continental army. It was not, however, until October of 1775 that the first official attempt towards the formation of a continental, as opposed to a colonial, navy, was made. The large merchant marine put at the disposal of the new government many excellent seamen and skippers and a good number of ships, few of them, however, adapted for war. To build regular warships on a large scale was impossible for a nation so badly in need of funds. It was almost equally difficult to secure officers trained in naval matters, for the marine captains, although as a rule good seamen, were utterly lacking in naval knowledge and the principles of organization. In this state of affairs Paul Jones proved a very useful man. He was not only a thorough seaman, but had studied the art of naval warfare, was in some respects ahead of his time in his ideas of armament, and was familiar with the organization and history of the British navy. In the early development of our navy he played, therefore, an important part, not only in equipping and arming ships for immediate service, and in determining upon the most effective and practicable kind of vessels to be built, but also in laying before the committee a statement of the necessary requirements for naval officers. To the request of Congress for reports, Jones answered with two remarkable documents. One was a long, logical argument in favor of swift frigates of a certain size, rather than ships of the line, and showed thorough knowledge, not only of naval construction and cost of building, but also of the general international situation, and the best method of conducting the war on the sea. On the latter point he wrote: "Keeping such a squadron in British waters, alarming their coasts, intercepting their trade, and descending now and then upon their least protected ports, is the only way that we, with our slender resources, can sensibly affect our enemy by sea-warfare." This is an exact outline of the policy which Jones and other United States captains actually carried out. Jones also made the statement, wonderfully foreshadowing his own exploits and their effect, that, "the capture ... of one or two of their crack frigates would raise us more in the estimation of Europe, where we now most of all need countenance, than could the defeat or even capture of one of their armies on the land here in America. And at the same time it would fill all England with dismay. If we show to the world that we can beat them afloat with an equal force, ship to ship, it will be more than anyone else has been able to do in modern times, and it will create a great and most desirable sentiment of respect and favor towards us on the continent of Europe, where really, I think, the question of our fate must ultimately be determined. "Beyond this, if by exceedingly desperate fighting, one of our ships shall conquer one of theirs of markedly superior force, we shall be hailed as the pioneers of a new power on the sea, with untold prospects of development, and the prestige if not the substance of English dominion over the ocean will be forever broken. Happy, indeed, will be the lot of the American captain upon whom fortune shall confer the honor of fighting that battle!" Jones was that happy captain, for both the events mentioned as highly desirable he brought to pass. In the report on the qualifications of naval officers Jones showed himself to be quite abreast of our own times in the philosophy of naval organization, and, moreover, possessed of a pen quite capable of expressing, always with clearness and dignity and sometimes with elegance, the full maturity of his thought. George Washington, one of whose great qualities was the power to know men, read this report of Jones and said: "Mr. Jones is clearly not only a master mariner within the scope of the art of navigation, but he also holds a strong and profound sense of the political and military weight of command on the sea. His powers of usefulness are great and must be constantly kept in view." Jones was appointed first lieutenant in the navy on the 22d of December, 1775. He was sixth on the list of appointees, the other five being made captains. Subsequent events showed that Jones would have been the best man for the first place. He thought so himself, but hastened on board his ship to serve as lieutenant, and was the first man who ever hoisted the American flag on a man-of-war,--a spectacular trifle that gave him much pleasure. II CRUISES OF THE PROVIDENCE AND THE ALFRED The infant squadron of the United States, under the command of Ezek Hopkins, consisting of the Alfred, of which Jones was the first lieutenant, the Columbus, the Andria Doria, and the Cabot, sailed in February, 1776, against Fort Nassau, New Providence Island, in the Bahamas. The only vessel of any force in the squadron was the Alfred, an East Indiaman, which Jones had armed with twenty-four nine-pounders on the gun-deck, and six six-pounders on the quarter-deck. The only officer in the fleet who, with the exception of Jones, ever showed any ability was Nicholas Biddle of the Doria. The expedition, consequently, was sufficiently inglorious. A barren descent was made on New Providence Island, and later the fleet was engaged with the British sloop of war Glasgow, which, in spite of the odds against her, seems to have had the best of the encounter. Jones was stationed between decks to command the Alfred's first battery, which he trained on the enemy with his usual efficiency. He says in his journal what was evidently true: "Mr. Jones, therefore, did his duty; and as he had no direction whatever, either of the general disposition of the squadron, or the sails and helm of the Alfred, he can stand charged with no part of the disgrace of that night." A number of courts-martial resulted from this inept affair and from other initial mistakes. Captain Hazard of the Providence, a sloop of war of fourteen guns and 103 men, was dismissed from the service, and Jones was put in command of the ship. "This proves," said Jones, "that Mr. Jones did his duty on the Providence expedition." Jones continued to do his duty by making a number of energetic descents on the enemy's shipping. His method was to hunt out the merchant vessels in harbor, whence they could not escape, rather than to search for them on the open sea. In June, 1776, he cruised in the Providence from Bermuda to the Banks of Newfoundland, a region infested with the war vessels of the British, captured sixteen vessels, made an attack on Canso, Nova Scotia, thereby releasing several American prisoners, burned three vessels belonging to the Cape Breton fishery, and in a descent on the Isle of Madame destroyed several fishing smacks. He twice escaped, through superior seamanship, from heavy English frigates. One of these strong frigates, the Milford, continued to fire from a great distance, after the little Providence was out of danger. Of this Jones wrote: "He excited my contempt so much, by his continued firing, at more than twice the proper distance, that when he rounded to, to give his broadside, I ordered my marine officer to return the salute with only a single musket." While Jones was on this cruise his plantation was ravaged by the British--buildings burned, live stock destroyed, and slaves carried off. He was dependent upon the income from this estate, having drawn up to that time only £50 from the government, not for pay, but for the expense of enlisting seamen. On his return to port he wrote to Mr. Hewes: "It thus appears that I have no fortune left but my sword, and no prospect except that of getting alongside the enemy." It was during the same cruise that Jones, by the act of Congress of October 10, 1776, was made captain in the United States navy, an appointment that brought him more bitterness of spirit than pleasure, for he was only number eighteen in the list of appointees. This was an injustice which Jones never forgot, and to which he referred at intervals all through his life. He thought he ought to have been not lower than sixth in rank, because, by the law of the previous year, there were only five captains ahead of him. In the mean time, too, he had done good service, while the new captains ranking above him were untried. It was no doubt an instance of political influence outweighing practical service, and Jones was entitled to feel aggrieved,--a privilege he was not likely to forego. Rank was to him a passion, not merely because it would enable him to be more effective, but for its own sake. He liked all the signs of display,--busts, epaulets, medals, marks of honor of all kinds. "How near to the heart," he wrote, "of every military officer is rank, which opens the door to glory!" In regard to this appointment he wrote Thomas Jefferson a bitter and sarcastic letter. He attributed the injustice to the desire of John Adams to create captains from among the "respectable skippers" of New England. "If their fate," he wrote, "shall be like that of his share in the first five captains last year, I can only say that Mr. Adams has probably provided for a greater number of courts-martial than of naval victories! You are well aware, honored sir, that I have no family connections at my back, but rest my case wholly on what I do. As I survey the list of twelve captains who have been newly jumped over me by the act of October 10th, I cannot help seeing that all but three are persons of high family connection in the bailiwick of Mr. Adams!" He wrote, at this time and later, many vehement letters about these "skippers." To Joseph Hewes: "There are characters among the thirteen on the list who are truly contemptible--with such, as a private gentleman, I would disdain to sit down--I would disdain to be acquainted.... Until they give proof of their superior ability, I never shall acknowledge them as my senior officers--I never will act under their command." He wrote to Robert Morris: " ... Nor will I ever draw my sword under the command of any man who was not in the service as early as myself, unless he hath merited a preference by his superior services or abilities." In these and similar remarks, Jones did not show that sense of absolute subordination which he had said, in his report on the qualifications of naval officers, was of prime importance, and which he strenuously demanded from his inferiors in rank. He was always jealous of any superior in his own line, but, fortunately, after his first cruise, he was always the ranking officer on his ship. Jones protested, however, without avail, but on the 4th of November, 1776, he was put in command of the Alfred, and with the Providence in company made a cruise of about a month, captured seven merchant ships of the enemy, several of them carrying valuable supplies to the army, and again cleverly avoided the superior British frigates. Complaining of the action of the Providence, "which gave him the slip in the night," as he put it, Jones wrote Hewes: "If such doings are permitted, the navy will never rise above contempt!... the aforesaid noble captain doth not understand the first case of plain Trigonometry." On the subject of the navy he wrote Robert Morris, at a later period: "The navy is in a wretched condition. It wants a man of ability at its head who could bring on a purgation, and distinguish between the abilities of a gentleman and those of a mere sailor or boatswain's mate." In still another letter: "If my feeble voice is heard when I return to Philadelphia, our navy matters will assume a better face." Again, as late as 1782, he wrote Captain O'Neill: "I am altogether in the dark about what has been done to reëstablish the credit of our marine. In the course of near seven years' service I have continually suggested what has occurred to me as most likely to promote its honor and render it serviceable; but my voice has been like a cry in the wilderness." After his return from the cruise in the Alfred, Jones served on the Board of Advice to the Marine Committee, and was very useful in many ways. He urged strongly the necessity of making a cruise in European waters for the sake of moral prestige,--he, of course, to be in command of the squadron. His energy and dashing character made a strong impression on Lafayette, who was then in the country, and who heartily supported Jones in the projected scheme. Lafayette was one of the strongest advocates for an alliance between the colonies and France, and believed that a fleet fitted out in French ports under the United States flag would not only help out the weak colonial navy, but would precipitate war between England and France. He wrote a letter to General Washington strongly recommending Jones as leader of such an undertaking. About the same time Jones had an interview with Washington to appeal against what he deemed another injustice. The Trumbull, one of the fine new frigates just completed and built in accordance with Jones's recommendations, was placed under the command of Captain Saltonstall, who had been captain of the Alfred when Jones was first lieutenant of the same ship, and against whom the latter had made charges of incompetence. Jones did not get the Trumbull, but the interview was probably instrumental in procuring an order from the Marine Committee for Jones to enlist seamen for a European cruise. On June 14, 1777, Congress appointed him to the command of the sloop of war Ranger, eighteen guns, and on the same day the permanent flag of the United States was determined upon. Jones, as usual, saw his spectacular opportunity and said: "That flag and I are twins; born the same hour from the same womb of destiny. We cannot be parted in life or in death. So long as we can float, we shall float together. If we must sink, we shall go down as one!" Jones, with the Ranger, sailed for France under the Stars and Stripes November 1, 1777, bearing with him dispatches to the American commissioners, the news of Burgoyne's surrender, and instructions from the Marine Committee to the commissioners to invest him with a fine swift-sailing frigate. On his arrival at Nantes he immediately sent to the commissioners--Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane, and Arthur Lee--a letter developing his general scheme of annoying the enemy. "It seems to be our most natural province," he wrote, "to surprise their defenseless places, and thereby divert their attention and draw it from our own coasts." It had been the intention of the commissioners to give Jones the Indien, a fine strong frigate building secretly at Amsterdam. But this proved to be one more of Jones's many disappointments, for the British minister to the Netherlands discovered the destination of the vessel and protested to the States-General. The result was that the commissioners were forced to sell the ship to France, to keep her out of the hands of England, and Jones was compelled to make his invasion in the Ranger. While proceeding in this little sloop to L'Orient, for the purpose of fitting her out, he met the great French fleet and demanded and obtained the first salute ever given the United States flag by the war vessels of a foreign power. He wrote to the Marine Committee triumphantly: "I am happy in having it in my power to congratulate you on my having seen the American flag, for the first time, recognized in the fullest and completest manner by the flag of France.... It was in fact an acknowledgment of American independence." As the secret treaty between France and the United States was signed about that time, it perhaps needed less than the pertinacity of Paul Jones to extract a salute from the imperial fleet. Shortly before sailing on his first famous cruise, the restless man sent Silas Deane a letter proposing a plan of operations for the French fleet in the coming war with England. The scheme was for the superior French fleet to attack the English fleet under Lord Howe, and destroy it or block it up in the Delaware. Jones said in his journal that the plan, which was adopted, would have succeeded if it had been put in immediate execution, and complained because the credit of the scheme had been given to others. This was only one of the bits of business which the energetic Jones transacted before he sailed in the Ranger to harass England. He wrote, as usual, innumerable letters, proposing, condemning, recommending. He had trouble with an insubordinate first lieutenant. He began, too, his social career in France. It was then that he met the Duchesse de Chartres, great-granddaughter of Louis XIV. and mother of Louis Philippe, who at a later time called Jones the Bayard of the Sea, and whom Jones at that time promised "to lay an English frigate at her feet." He kept his word in spirit, for years afterwards he gave her the sword of Captain Pearson, commander of his famous prize, the Serapis. III THE CRUISE OF THE RANGER Jones started on his cruise in the Ranger April 10, 1778, and, after taking several unimportant prizes on the way to the Irish Channel, decided to make a descent upon the town that had served him as headquarters when he was a merchant sailor, Whitehaven, where he knew there were about two hundred and fifty merchant ships, which he hoped to destroy; "to put an end," as he said, "by one good fire, in England, of shipping, to all the burnings in America." Owing to contrary winds Jones was unable to make the attack until midnight of April 22. His daring scheme was, with the small force of thirty-two men in two small boats, to land in a hostile port, defended by two forts, surprise the sleeping inhabitants, and burn the ships before the people could assemble against him. By the time the boats reached the outer pier, day had dawned and no time was to be lost. The forts were surprised and taken, the guns spiked by Jones with his own hand; but while he was thus occupied his officers had failed to fire the shipping, in accordance with his orders, Lieutenant Wallingford stating as an excuse that "nothing could be gained by burning poor people's property." Jones thought otherwise, however; and although the townspeople were beginning to assemble in consequence of the pistols that had been fired in capturing the forts, he made fire in the steerage of a large ship, closely surrounded by many others, and an enormous conflagration ensued. He stood, pistol in hand, near the burning wreck, and kept off the constantly increasing crowd until the sun was an hour high, when he and his men retired to the Ranger, taking away with them three of the captured soldiers, "as a sample," Jones said, and followed by the eyes of the gaping multitude of English country folk. Although the amount of property destroyed by this raid was small, the importance of it was considerable, and is well stated by Jones himself, who, if proper allowance is made for the effects of his vanity, is, as a rule, his own best biographer: "The moral effect of it was very great," he writes, "as it taught the English that the fancied security of their coasts was a myth, and thereby compelled their government to take expensive measures for the defense of numerous ports hitherto relying for protection wholly on the vigilance and supposed omnipotence of their navy. It also doubled or more the rates of insurance, which in the long run proved the most grievous damage of all." On the same day Jones made a descent on the estate of the Earl of Selkirk, near his old home in Kirkcudbright, with the intention of carrying off the earl as a hostage. But the earl was not at home, and Jones consented, he says, to let his men, mutinous and greedy, seize the Selkirk family plate, which Jones put himself at a great deal of trouble and some expense to restore at a later date. This incident is interesting chiefly as it was the cause of a letter illustrative of Jones's character, sent by him to the Countess of Selkirk, who was present at the time of the raid. After stating in rather inflatedly polite terms that he could not well restrain his men from the raid, Jones promised to return the plate, condemned the brutalities of the English, spoke of the horrors of war, boasted of his victory over the Drake the evening following the raid, spoke of the English dead and his chivalrous treatment of them,--"I buried them in a spacious grave, with the honors due to the memory of the brave,"--and then made the following rather amusing statements: "Though I have drawn my sword in the present generous struggle for the rights of men, yet I am not in arms as an American, nor am I in pursuit of riches. My fortune is liberal enough, having no wife nor family, and having lived long enough to know that riches cannot secure happiness. I profess myself a citizen of the world, totally unfettered by the little mean distinctions of climate or of country, which diminish the benevolence of the heart and set bounds to philanthropy. Before this war had begun, I had, at an early time of life, withdrawn from sea service in favor of 'calm contemplation and poetic ease.' I have sacrificed not only my favorite scheme of life, but the softer affections of the heart and my prospects of domestic happiness, and I am ready to sacrifice my life also with cheerfulness if that forfeiture could restore peace among mankind.... I hope this cruel contest will soon be closed; but should it continue, I wage no war with the fair. I acknowledge their force, and bend before it with submission." Jones was probably sincere when he wrote that letter, although it is full of misstatements. He was not a self-conscious man and did not analyze his motives very carefully. He always posed, with perfect sincerity, as a hero, and when he had to do with a distinguished woman his exalted words exactly expressed, no doubt, his sentiments. Jones's next exploit was the famous capture of the Drake on April 23. Previous to the attack on Whitehaven, while off Carrickfergus, he had conceived the bold project of running into Belfast Loch, where the British man-of-war Drake, of twenty guns, was at anchor; where he hoped to overlay the Drake's cable, fall foul of her bow, and thus, with her decks exposed to the Ranger's musketry, to board. He did, indeed, enter the harbor at night, but failed after repeated efforts, on account of the strong wind, to get in a proper position to board. Three days later, after the Earl of Selkirk affair, Jones was again off Carrickfergus, looking for the Drake, which, having heard of his devastations from the alarmed country people, sailed out to punish the invader of the sacred soil of England. The two sloops of war were very nearly matched, though the Drake technically rated at twenty guns and the Ranger at eighteen. When they came within range of one another they hoisted their colors almost at the same time, but the Drake hailed:-- "What ship is that?" Jones directed the sailing-master to answer: "The American Continental ship Ranger. We are waiting for you. Come on. The sun is now near setting, and it is time to begin." The Ranger then opened fire with a full broadside. The Drake replied with the same, and the two ships ran along together at close quarters, pouring in broadsides for more than an hour, when the enemy called for quarter. The action had been, as Jones said in his terse official report, "warm, close, and obstinate." There was little manoeuvring, just straight fighting, the victory being due, according to Jones, to the superior gunnery of the Americans. At first Jones's gunners hulled the Drake, as she rolled, below the water-line, but Jones desired to take the enemy's ship as a prize, rather than to sink her, and told his men so. "The alert fellows," he said in a letter to Joseph Hewes, "instantly took this hint and began firing as their muzzles rose, by which practice they soon crippled the Drake's spars and rigging, and made her an unmanageable log on the water. I am persuaded that if I had not advised them to this effect, my gunners would have sunk the Drake in an hour! As it was, we had to put spare sails over the side after she struck, to keep her afloat, and careen her as much as we could the next day to plug the holes they had already made between wind and water." The Drake, indeed, was almost a wreck, while the Ranger was little injured. Jones lost only two men killed and six wounded, to the enemy's approximate loss of forty-two killed and wounded. It was the first battle of the war which resulted in the capture of a regular British man-of-war by a ship of equal if not inferior force. The Drake belonged to a regularly established navy, not accustomed to defeat. Perhaps that fact inspired her commander with overconfidence, but McKenzie's statement of the cause of the victory is no doubt correct: "The result," he said, "was eminently due to the skill and courage of Jones, and his inflexible resolution to conquer." That resolution, which was indeed a characteristic of Jones, reached on at least one occasion, that of the later battle with the Serapis, a degree of inflexibility which amounted to genius. The effect of this bold cruise was great. Jones had not, however, been the only American captain, by any means, to render good service in destroying the commerce of the enemy and in annoying the British coast. Before the French alliance more than six hundred British vessels fell a prey to American cruisers, mainly privateers. There were, likewise, captains in the regular United States navy who had before this cruise of Jones's borne the flag to Europe. The first of these was the gallant Wickes, in the summer of 1777. Though Jones was not the first captain, therefore, to make a brilliant and destructive cruise in the English Channel, he was nevertheless the first to inspire terror among the inhabitants by incursions inshore. The cruise of the little Ranger showed that the British, when they ravaged the coast of New England, might expect effective retaliation on their own shores; and the capture of the Drake inspired France, then about to take arms in support of the American cause, by the realization of what they themselves had longed to do--to worst England on the high seas--with increased respect for their allies. It filled Great Britain with wild, exaggerated, and unjust condemnation of Paul Jones, who has been looked upon for more than a hundred years, and is even to-day in England, by sober historians, as a bloody-handed, desperate buccaneer. The persistent charge, often of late refuted, hardly needs refutation, in view of the well-authenticated fact that Jones never served on a war vessel except under a regular commission. Moreover, he was a man too ambitious and too sensible to hurt his prospects by being anything so low and undistinguished as a pirate. After the battle with the Drake, Jones saw that he would have to bring the cruise to a close. His crew of 139 men had, through the necessity of manning the several merchant prizes and the Drake, been reduced to eighty-six men, and he consequently put into Brest, reluctantly, on the 8th of May, 1778. He was there met by the great French fleet, then actually at war with England, and he and his prize were admired by visiting French officers. From that time Jones, hated in England, was a hero in France, fêted whenever he was at the capital, and favored by fair ladies. He was a hero, however, with a thorny path all through life. He arrived at Brest with a miserably clothed, wholly unpaid, discontented, and partly mutinous crew. During the voyage his first lieutenant, Simpson, had stirred up dissatisfaction among the men, and had refused to obey orders, for which Jones had him put in irons. The unpaid men, not assigning their troubles to the true but unseen cause, the poverty of the government, easily believed that their captain was responsible for all their ills. Under no conditions, however, was Jones likely to be popular with the greater number of his men, for the energetic man was bent on making them, as well as himself, work for glory to the uttermost, and the common run of seamen care more for ease and pelf than for fame. Jones's unpopularity with the crew of the Ranger is attested by a passage from the diary of Ezra Green, one of Jones's officers, on the occasion, at a later period, of the Ranger's sailing back to America: "This day Thomas Simpson, Esq., came on board with orders to take command of the Ranger; to the joy and satisfaction of the whole ship's company." With the impulsive inconsistency which, in spite of his shrewdness, sometimes marked his conduct, Jones alternately demanded a court-martial for Simpson and recommended him to the command of the Ranger, he himself hoping for a more important vessel; it was Jones's own conduct, as much as any other circumstance, which finally resulted in the sailing away of the Ranger under the mutinous Simpson. With the frankness customary with him when not writing to anybody particularly distinguished, Jones wrote Simpson, at one stage of their quarrel: "The trouble with you, Mr. Simpson, is that you have the heart of a lion and the head of a sheep." Even more annoying to the imperious and high-handed Jones than the trouble with Simpson was the manner in which, on his arrival at Brest, the commissioners refused to honor his draft for 24,000 livres. He held a letter of credit authorizing him to draw on the commissioners for money to defray necessary expenses; but instead of dealing with the regular American agent at Brest, he placed his order with a Brest merchant, who, when Jones's draft was returned dishonored, stopped his supplies. Jones thereupon wrote the commissioners: "I know not where or how to provide food for to-morrow's dinner to feed the great number of mouths that depend on me for food. Are then the Continental ships of war to depend on sale of their prizes for the daily dinner of their men? Publish it not 'in Gath'!" He then, without authority, but very possibly forced by the necessities of his crew, sold one of his prizes, with the money from which he paid the Brest merchant. Of this act he said: "I could not waste time discussing questions of authority when my crew and prisoners were starving." The point of view of the commissioners is tersely expressed in a letter from them to the French Minister of Marine, de Sartine, June 15, 1778: "We think it extremely irregular ... in captains of ships of war to draw for any sums they please without previous notice and express permission.... Captain Jones has had of us near a hundred thousand livres for such purposes [necessaries]." The frugality of Benjamin Franklin, the most important commissioner, is well known, and also the financial straits of the country at that time. That Jones was in a difficult position at Brest is certain, and he perhaps asked for no more than he needed. But that he was naturally inclined to extravagant expenditure there can be no doubt,--a fact that will appear saliently in a later stage of this narrative. IV EFFORTS IN FRANCE TO SECURE A COMMAND War having broken out between England and France, Jones was detained in Europe, instead of sailing home in the Ranger, through the request of the French Minister of Marine, de Sartine, who wished an important command to be assigned to the famous conqueror of the Drake. The difficulties, however, in the way of doing so were great. The commissioners had few resources, and one of them, Arthur Lee, was hostile to Jones. Moreover the French government naturally thought first of its own officers, of whom there were too many for the available vessels. Several privateering expeditions were suggested to Jones, which he quite justly rejected. Several opportunities had also been given him for small commands, which he had likewise rejected. His manner in doing so could not exactly be called diplomatic. He wrote M. Chaumont, that patriotic and benevolent gentleman whom Jones alternately flattered and reviled, a rather typical letter: "I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast; for I intend to go _in harm's way_. You know, I believe, that this is not every one's intention. Therefore buy a frigate that sails fast, and that is sufficiently large to carry twenty-six or twenty-eight guns on one deck. I would rather be shot ashore than sent to sea in such things as the armed prizes I have described." The innumerable delays which consequently intervened between his arrival at Brest, in May, 1778, and his departure on his next cruise a year later, in June, 1779, put the active Scotchman in a state of constant irritation. He continued his dunning correspondence with the greatest energy, alternately cajoling, proposing, complaining, begging to be sent on some important enterprise. He wrote innumerable letters to de Sartine, Franklin, the Duc de Rochefoucauld, de Chaumont, and many others, and finally to the king himself, with whom he afterwards had an interview. The statement of his wrongs in his letter to the king, reiterated in letters to many others, involves an account of the many promises de Sartine had made and broken, and of Jones's various important proposals for the public good, which had been slighted. "Thus, sire," he writes, "have I been chained down to shameful inactivity for nearly five months. I have lost the best season of the year and such opportunities of serving my country and acquiring honor as I can hardly expect again in this war; and to my infinite mortification, having no command, I am considered everywhere an officer cast off and in disgrace for secret reasons." Jones's pertinacity and perseverance in working for a command are quite on a par with his indomitable resolution in battle, and he was finally rewarded, probably through the king's direct order, by being put in command of a small squadron, with which he made the cruise resulting in the capture of the Serapis and in his own fame. Jones was highly delighted with the appointment, but his troubles continued in full measure, and to all his troubles Jones gave wide and frequent publicity. All the ships of his squadron, with the exception of the Alliance, were French, largely officered and manned by Frenchmen. The expense of fitting out the expedition was the king's. The flag and the commissions of the officers were American. The object of the French government was to secure the services of the marauding Jones against the coasts and shipping of England. This could better be done under the United States flag than under that of France; for the rules of civilized warfare had up to that time prevented the British from ravaging the coasts of France as they had those of rebel America, and France was therefore not morally justified in harassing the English shipping and coasts directly; as, on the principle of retaliation, it was fair for America to do. This peculiar character of the expedition brought with it many drawbacks and difficulties for the unfortunate Jones. He had a motley array of ships,--those which were left over after the French officers had been satisfied. The flagship, the Bonhomme Richard, was a worn-out old East Indiaman, which Jones refitted and armed with six eighteen-pounders, twenty-eight twelve-pounders, and eight nine-pounders--a battery of forty-two guns. The crew of 375, of many nationalities, contained, when the fleet sailed, only about fifty Americans; but fortunately, a few days later, Jones was compelled to put back to port, where he was unexpectedly able, owing to a recent exchange of prisoners, to get rid of some of his aliens, and to secure 114 American officers and sailors, who proved to be the backbone of the Richard's crew. The Alliance, the only American ship, was a good frigate rating as a large thirty-two or medium thirty-six, but captained by a mad Frenchman in the American service, Landais, who refused to obey Jones, and in the important fight with the Serapis turned his guns against his commander. The Pallas, thirty-two guns, the Vengeance, twelve guns, and the little Cerf were all officered and manned by Frenchmen. The greatest hindrance, however, to the efficiency of the squadron was the famous _concordat_, or agreement between the captains, which Jones was compelled to sign just before sailing. The terms, indeed, which related largely to the distribution of prize money, left Jones in the position of commander in chief, but the fact that there was any agreement whatever between Jones and his subordinates weakened his authority. Of this, as of so many other injustices, Jones complained most bitterly all through his subsequent life. He signed it, however, because, he said in his journal, he feared that he would otherwise be removed from his position as commodore. In a letter to Hewes he gave Franklin's command as the cause. The squadron, accompanied at the outset by two French privateers, sailed finally from L'Orient, after one futile attempt, August 14, 1779, and made during the first forty days of the fifty days' cruise a number of unimportant prizes. On the 18th of August, the privateer Monsieur, which was not bound by the _concordat_, took a prize, which the captain of the Monsieur rifled, and then ordered into port. Jones, however, opposed the captain's order, and sent the prize to L'Orient, whereupon the Monsieur parted company with the squadron. According to Fanning, one of Jones's midshipmen, who has left a spirited account of the cruise, Jones attempted to prevent the departure of the privateer by force, and when she escaped was so angry that he "struck several of his officers with his speaking trumpet over their heads," and confined one of them below, but immediately afterwards invited him to dinner. "Thus it was with Jones," says Fanning, "passionate to the highest degree one minute, and the next ready to make a reconciliation." The defection of the Monsieur was, however, only the beginning of Jones's troubles with the insubordinate officers. While attempting to capture a brigantine, Jones, through the desertion of some of his English sailors, lost two of his small boats, for which he was bitterly and unjustly reproached by the crazy, incompetent, and greedy Landais, captain of the Alliance, who said that hereafter he would chase in the manner he saw fit. Shortly afterwards, the Cerf abruptly left the fleet, and the other privateer also went off on its own account. Jones was left with only the Bonhomme Richard, the Pallas, the Vengeance, and the Alliance; and it would have been better, as the result showed, if the last-mentioned vessel and its extraordinary captain had also decamped at this time for good. Landais paid no attention to Jones's signals, but left the squadron for days, unfortunately returning. Against Jones's orders he sent two prizes into Bergen, Norway, where they were given by the Danish government to the English, and were for many years after the war a source of trouble between Denmark and the United States. Jones was also compelled to treat with the other French captains, and several times modified his course in compliance with their demands. He had formed a daring design to lay Leith, on the coast of Scotland, and perhaps Edinburgh, under contribution, but first he had to argue the matter with his captains. Fanning says: "Jones displayed so artfully his arguments in favor of his plan that it was agreed pretty unanimously to put it in immediate execution." Jones's art was manifested in this instance, according to his account, by showing the captains "a large heap of gold at the end of the prospect." During this enforced conference, however, the wind shifted, and the undertaking had to be given up. Fanning quaintly remarks: "All his [Jones's] vast projects of wealth and aggrandizement became at once a shadow that passeth away, never more to appear again!" Jones, however, said that he would have succeeded, even at this late hour, if his plan had been followed, and showed a touch of the weak side of his character when he added: "Nothing prevented me from pursuing my design but the reproach that would have been cast upon my character, as a man of prudence, had the enterprise miscarried. It would have been said: 'Was he not forewarned by Captain Cottineau and others?'" With his old ship, his motley squadron, and his insubordinate officers, Jones then cruised along the Yorkshire coast, destroyed or captured a number of vessels, and was preparing to end his voyage at the Texel, Holland, when chance threw in his way the opportunity which he so greatly embraced. On the 23d of September the squadron was chasing a ship off Flamborough Head, when the Baltic fleet of merchantmen, for which Jones had been looking, hove in sight. The commodore hoisted the signal for a general chase. Landais, however, ignored the signal and went off by himself. The merchant ships, when they saw Jones's squadron bearing down upon them, made for the shore and escaped, protected by two ships of war, frigates, which stood out and made preparations to fight, in order to save their convoy. These British ships of war were the Serapis, a new frigate of forty-four guns, and the Countess of Scarborough, twenty guns. The Alliance, at that time, which was late in the afternoon, was not in sight, and the little Vengeance, which had been sent to look for Landais, was also not available. There were, therefore, two ships on each side, and Jones ordered Captain Cottineau, of the Pallas, to look after the Countess of Scarborough, while he himself took care of the Serapis. Jones never lost his head in action, and yet he decided, with that "cool, determined bravery," of which Benjamin Franklin spoke, and with "that presence of mind which never deserted him" in action, recorded by Fanning, to engage a ship known by him to be the superior of the Bonhomme Richard in almost every respect. It has been said of Jones by one who fought with him that only in battle was he absolutely at ease: only at times of comparative inaction, when he could not exert himself fully, was he restless and irritable. On this occasion he joyfully engaged a ship which threw a weight of metal superior to his by three to two, that sailed much faster, and was consequently at an advantage in manoeuvring for position, and that had a crew equal to that of Jones in numbers, and far more disciplined and homogeneous. A battle resulted which for desperate fighting has never been excelled, and perhaps never equaled on the sea. V THE FIGHT WITH THE SERAPIS Jones crowded on all possible sail, and the Bonhomme Richard came within pistol shot of the Serapis. It was seven o'clock of a fine moonlight night. Captain Pearson, of the British ship, then hailed, and was answered with a whole broadside from the Bonhomme Richard, an unfriendly salute which was promptly returned by the British ship. From the beginning the fight seemed to go against the Bonhomme Richard. There was hardly any stage of the three and a half hours' desperate combat when Jones might not, with perfect propriety, have surrendered. Hardly had the battle begun when two of the six old eighteen-pounders forming the battery of the lower gun-deck of the Richard exploded, killing the men working them and rendering the whole battery useless for the rest of the action. Captain Pearson, perceiving his advantage in speed and power of shot, attempted again and again to pass the bow of the Richard and rake her. Jones's whole effort, on the other hand, was to close with the Serapis and board, knowing that it was only a question of time when, in a broadside fight, the Richard would be sunk. After the broadsiding had continued with unremitting fury for about three quarters of an hour, and several of the Richard's twelve-pounders also had been put out of action, Captain Pearson thought he saw an opportunity, the Serapis having veered and drawn ahead of the Richard, to luff athwart the latter's hawse and rake her. But he attempted the manoeuvre too soon, and perceiving that the two ships would be brought together if he persisted in his course, he put his helm alee, bringing the two vessels in a line; and the Serapis having lost her headway by this evolution, the Richard ran into her weather quarter. Jones was quick to make his first attempt to board, but he could not mass enough men at the point of contact to succeed, and the ships soon swung apart. The Richard, even at this early stage of the action, was in a deplorable condition. Little of her starboard battery was left. Henry Gardner, a gunner during the action, stated in his account of the battle that, at this time, of the 140 odd officers and men stationed in the main gun-deck battery at the beginning, over eighty were killed or wounded. There were three or four feet of water in the hold, caused by the Serapis's eighteen-pound shot, which had repeatedly pierced the hull of the Richard. It is no wonder that Captain Pearson, knowing that his enemy was hard put to it, thought, after the failure to board, that Jones was ready to surrender. "Has your ship struck?" he called, and Jones made his famous reply:-- "I have not yet begun to fight." That Jones really made some such reply, there is no doubt. Certainly, it was characteristic enough. Jones fought all his life, and yet when he died he had hardly begun the conflict, so many of his ambitious projects remained unrealized. When the ships had swung apart, the broadsiding continued, increasingly to the advantage of the Serapis. Had not a lucky wind, favorable to the Richard, arisen at this point, doubtless her time above water would have been short. The veering and freshening breeze enabled the Richard to blanket the enemy's vessel, which consequently lost her headway, and another fortunate puff of wind brought the Richard in contact with the Serapis in such a way that the two vessels lay alongside one another, bow to stern, and stern to bow. Jones, with his own hand, helped to lash the two ships together. The anchor of the Serapis fortunately hooked the quarter of the Richard, thus binding the frigates still more firmly together. During the critical time when Jones was bending every nerve to grapple with the Serapis, the Alliance made her first appearance, poured a broadside or two into the Richard, and disappeared. Of this remarkable deed Jones wrote to Dr. Franklin: "At last the Alliance appeared, and I now thought the battle at an end; but to my utter astonishment he discharged a broadside full into the stern of the Bon Homme Richard." It is probable that the Serapis also suffered from Landais's attack, but not so much as the Richard, which lay between the other two ships. After the Serapis and the Richard had been well lashed together, there began a new phase of the battle, which had already lasted about an hour. There were only three guns left in action on the Richard, nine-pounders on the quarter-deck, and the ship was badly leaking. The eighteen-pounders of the enemy had riddled the gun-deck of the American ship, rendering her, below-decks, entirely untenable. The real fight from this time to the end was consequently above-decks. Jones abandoned any attempt at great gun fire, except by the three small pieces on the quarter-deck, drew practically his entire remaining crew from below to the upper deck and the tops, and devoted his attention to sweeping the decks of the enemy by the musketry of his French marines from the quarter and poop decks, and of the American sailors in the tops. The crew of the Serapis, on the other hand, were forced mainly to take refuge in their well-protected lower decks, from which they continued to fire their great guns into the already riddled hull and lower decks of the Richard. After the juncture of the vessels Captain Pearson made several desperate attempts to cut the anchor loose, hoping in that way to become free again of the Richard, in which case he knew that the battle was his. Jones, of course, was equally determined to defend the anchor fastenings. He personally directed the fire of his French marines against the British in their repeated attempts to sever the two ships, to such good purpose that not a single British sailor reached the coveted goal. So determined was Jones on this important point that he took loaded muskets from the hands of his French marines and shot down several of the British with his own hand. The captain of the French marines, who rendered at this important stage of the action such good service, had been wounded early in the battle, and the succeeding lieutenants had also been either killed or disabled. The marines had been greatly diminished in numbers and were much disheartened at the time Jones took personal command of them. Nathaniel Fanning vividly narrates the manner in which Jones handled these Frenchmen: "I could distinctly hear, amid the crashing of the musketry, the great voice of the commodore, cheering the French marines in their own tongue, uttering such imprecations upon the enemy as I never before or since heard in French or any other language, exhorting them to take good aim, pointing out objects for their fire, and frequently giving them direct example by taking their loaded muskets from their hands into his and firing himself. In fact, toward the very last, he had about him a group of half a dozen marines who did nothing but load their firelocks and hand them to the commodore, who fired them from his own shoulder, standing on the quarter-deck rail by the main topmast backstay." A French sailor, Pierre Gerard, who has left a memoir of the battle, tells how his countrymen responded to Jones's presence: "Commodore Jones sprang among the shaking marines on the quarter-deck like a tiger among calves. They responded instantly to him. In an instant they were filled with courage! The indomitable spirit, the unconquerable courage of the commodore penetrated every soul, and every one who saw his example or heard his voice became as much a hero as himself!" Both vessels were at this time, and later, on fire in various places. Captain Pearson says in his official report that the Serapis was on fire no less than ten or twelve times. Half the men on both ships had been killed or disabled. The leak in the Richard's hold grew steadily worse, and the mainmast of the Serapis was about to go by the board. The Alliance again appeared and, paying no heed to Jones's signal to lay the Serapis alongside, raked both vessels for a few minutes indiscriminately, went serenely on her way, and brought her inglorious and inexplicable part in the action to a close. Captain Pearson had, for a moment, towards the end of the action, a ray of hope. A gunner on the Richard, thinking the ship was actually sinking, called for quarter, but Jones stunned him with the butt end of a pistol, and replied to Pearson, who had again hailed to know if the Richard had struck, to quote his own report, "in the most determined negative." About the same time, the master at arms, also believing the ship to be sinking, opened the hatches and released nearly two hundred British prisoners, taken in the various prizes of the cruise. Nothing, apparently, could be more desperate than the situation of Paul Jones then. His guns useless, his ship sinking and on fire, half of his crew dead or disabled, the Alliance firing into him, a portion of his crew panic-stricken, and two hundred British prisoners at large on the ship! But with Lieutenant Richard Dale to help him, he boldly ordered the prisoners to man the pumps, and continued the fight with undiminished energy. Soon after occurred the event which practically decided the battle in his favor. He had given orders to drop hand grenades from the tops of the Richard down through the enemy's main hatch. It was by this means that the Serapis had been so often set on fire. Now at an opportune moment, a hand grenade fell among a pile of cartridges strung out on the deck of the Serapis and caused a terrible explosion, killing many men. This seemed to reduce materially the fighting appetite of the British, and soon after a party of seamen from the Richard, with the dashing John Mayrant at their head, boarded the Serapis, and met with little resistance. Captain Pearson thereupon struck his colors, and the victory which marked the zenith of Jones's career, and upon which all else in his life merely served as commentary, was scored. Captain Pearson, in his court-martial, which was a formality in the British navy in case of defeat, explained Jones's victory in a nutshell: "It was clearly apparent," he said, "that the American ship was dominated by a commanding will of the most unalterable resolution," and again, "the extraordinary and unheard-of desperate stubbornness of my adversary had so depressed the spirits of my people that, when more than two hundred had been slain or disabled out of 317 all told, I could not urge the remnant to further resistance." The capture of the British ship, which took place about half-past ten at night, came none too soon, for the old Bonhomme Richard was sinking. The flames were extinguished by combined efforts of crew and prisoners by ten o'clock the next morning, but with seven feet of water, constantly increasing in the hold, it was then apparent that it was impossible to keep the old vessel afloat, and men, prisoners, and powder were transferred to the Serapis. On the morning of the 25th Jones obtained, "with inexpressible grief," as he said, "the last glimpse of the Bonhomme Richard," as she went down. The desperate battle fought in the bright moonlight was witnessed by many persons in Scarborough and on Flamborough Head, and they spread the alarming tidings throughout England. In a letter to Robert Morris, written soon after, Jones said, of the cruise in general: "We alarmed their coasts prodigiously from Cape Clear round to Hull; and had I not been concerned with sons of interest I could have done much." With his two new prizes (for the Countess of Scarborough had after a short action struck to the greatly superior Pallas) Jones set off for the Texel, with a most dilapidated crew and fleet. The Alliance, well called a "Comet" by the editor of the Janette-Taylor collection of Jones's papers, disappeared again after the battle. Landais, whose conduct was described by Jones as being that of "either a fool, a madman, or a villain," was afterwards dismissed the service, but not until he had cut up other extraordinary pranks. He now went off with his swift and uninjured frigate to the Texel, leaving Jones, laden down with prisoners and wounded, unassisted. Of the Richard's crew of 323, 67 men had been killed, leaving 106 wounded and 150 others to be accommodated on the injured Serapis. Then there were 211 English prisoners on the Richard at the beginning of the action; and of the 332 (including 8 sick men and 7 non-combatants) men composing the crew of the Serapis, there were 245 left to be cared for--134 wounded, 87 having been killed. There were, consequently, only 150 well men to look after 562 wounded and prisoners. Some of the latter were afterwards transferred to the Pallas, but altogether it was an unwieldy fleet which slowly sailed for the Texel, at which neutral port Jones arrived October 3, none too soon, for as he entered the roads, an English squadron, consisting of a sixty-four ship of the line and three heavy frigates, which had been looking for him, hove in sight. The effect of the cruise was very great. The English people, alarmed and incensed, never forgot it. Never before had one of their ships of war been conquered by a vessel of greatly inferior force. Their coasts, deemed impregnable, were again invaded by the man whom they called, in the blindness of their rage, pirate and renegade. Professor Houghton, a serious-minded historian, writing of Jones said: "His moral character can be summed up in one word--detestable." English comment on Paul Jones may be summed up truthfully in one word,--envenomed. Jones's exploits, moreover, greatly increased the prestige of young America, and made of himself a still greater hero at home and particularly in France. For the rest of his life, indeed, Jones, in France especially, where spectacles are peculiarly appreciated, was the man on horseback, and he enjoyed the position intensely. Fanning narrates how Jones, while at Amsterdam, soon after his arrival in the Texel, "was treated as a conqueror. This so elated him with pride, that he had the vanity to go into the State House, mount the balcony or piazza, and show himself in the front thereof, to the populace and people of distinction then walking on the public parade." VI DIPLOMACY AT THE TEXEL Jones found himself in a position at the Texel which demanded all the shrewdness as well as the determination of his character. Impatient, irritable, and passionate as he often was, his judgment was nevertheless excellent. Benjamin Franklin, when Jones at a later time was again put in a delicate situation, wrote him:-- "You have shown your abilities in fighting; you have now an opportunity of showing the other necessary part in the character of a great chief,--your abilities in policy." Jones's ability in policy appeared in a more favorable light in the Texel than at any other period of his career, although too great weight has been laid upon the degree of it. The important problem to be solved was how to induce the Dutch authorities to allow him and his battered ships to remain for a time in the shelter of their port. Jones knew that the attainment of this object would help to bring about a rupture between England and Holland. The latter country was secretly in sympathy with the revolted colonies, but eager at that time to maintain officially friendly relations with England. Consequently, when Jones arrived with his prizes, the Dutch authorities were in a quandary, much aggravated by the action of the British minister in Holland, Sir Joseph Yorke, who demanded that the "pirate's" prizes be delivered up to England. He reiterated his demand to the States-General in the following language: "I only discharge the orders of his Majesty in renewing the most strong and urgent demand for the seizure and restitution of said vessels as well as for the enlargement of their crews, who have been seized by the pirate, Paul Jones, a Scotchman, a rebellious subject, and state criminal." Jones, in reply to the allegations of the British minister, copies of whose letters had been sent him, wrote the States-General an able letter. He inclosed a copy of his commission from the United States government, and then argued that the United States was a "sovereign power" and entitled to issue such a commission. He pointed out that the sovereignty had been recognized by France and Spain, and that belligerent rights had been recognized by Prussia and by Russia. Only one of Sir Joseph's charges he admitted to be true,--that he was a Scotchman, but he denied the inference made from it,--that he was a "state criminal." He wrote: "It cannot have escaped the attention of Your High Mightinesses that every man now giving fealty to the cause of American Independence was born a British subject." If he were a "state criminal," then, he argued, General Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and all other American patriots were also "state criminals." Soon after this letter was received the States-General passed a resolution declining to "consider any question affecting the validity of Paul Jones's commission or his status as a person." They declined likewise "to do anything from which it might lawfully be inferred that they recognized the independence of the American colonies." They also resolved that Paul Jones should be asked to leave their port, but not until the wind and weather should be favorable. They had refused, therefore, to consider Jones as a pirate, or to deliver up his prizes. Paul Jones's plan was not to admit that a favorable wind had arisen until the last possible moment. He did not wish to be taken by the strong British fleet waiting for him outside the harbor, and he desired, as he said, in order to provoke war between Holland and England, "to try the patience of the English party to the last bit of strain it would bear by keeping my anchorage in Dutch waters on plea of distress, and at the same time I wished to be ready for instant departure the moment I saw that the plea of distress could no longer be plausibly held." The French Minister of Marine, de Sartine, however, fearing that ultimately the pressure would be so great that the squadron would be compelled to depart and thus fall into the clutches of the British, demanded that the French flag, which naturally commanded greater respect from Holland than the flag of the United States, should be displayed. Benjamin Franklin agreed with the French minister, but Jones protested:-- "In vain I expostulated with them that by accepting the shelter of the French flag I should do exactly of all things what Sir Joseph Yorke wished me to do, namely, withdraw all pretensions of the United States as a party to the situation, and thereby confess that the United States claimed no status as a sovereign power in a neutral port." Jones was forced to yield, the French flag was displayed, the command was given to the French captain, Cottineau, and Jones retained only the Alliance, an American ship, from which he was allowed, however, to fly the American flag. To add to Jones' sorrows de Sartine offered him, through the Duc de Vauguyan, a French commission to command the Alliance as a letter of marque. He rejected it with indignation: "My rank from the beginning knew no superior in the marine of America; how then must I be humbled were I to accept a letter of marque! I should, my lord, esteem myself inexcusable were I to accept even a commission of equal or superior denomination to that I bear, unless I were previously authorized by Congress, or some other competent authority in Europe." That the Serapis, the prize for which he had so bravely contended, had been taken from him, was another of the wrongs which rankled deeply in Jones's soul. Jones must have got a great deal of satisfaction, however, from the fact that he continued defiantly to wave the American flag from the Alliance, and that he delayed his enforced departure, in spite of great pressure from the admiral of the Dutch fleet, until December 26, when with the Alliance he dashed out of the harbor "under his best American colors," ran the gauntlet of the British fleet cruising outside, and escaped into the open sea. Before leaving the Texel, Jones, on December 17, 1779, wrote Dr. Bancroft: "I am sure that the strain put upon the relations between Holland and England must end in rupture between them within this year." War was indeed declared between England and Holland on December 19, 1780, and in the bill of grievances set forth in the proclamation of a state of war against Holland, the statement is made: "That, in violation of treaty, they [the States-General] suffered an American Pirate (one Paul Jones, a Rebel, and State Criminal) to remain several weeks in one of their ports." It is clear, therefore, that Jones's pertinacious stay in the Dutch port brought about important results. Another instance of Jones's _sang-froid_ in matters where time was given for his judgment to come into play, was the way he treated Landais at the Texel. On his arrival at that port Jones sent to Dr. Franklin charges against the captain of the Alliance, whom he removed from command. Whereupon Landais sent Jones a challenge to a duel. Fanning narrates: "But the latter [Jones], perhaps not thinking it prudent to expose himself with a single combatant, who was a complete master of the smallsword, declined." In the second edition of his memoir Fanning said that Jones accepted Landais's challenge, but insisted on substituting pistols, with which he was an expert, for swords, a proposition which Landais refused. Although again on the sea and free from the irritations of the Texel, Jones, when he had eluded the British fleet, found plenty of other things to annoy him. He had fortunately transferred many of his trustworthy men from the Serapis to the Alliance, but there were enough of the latter ship's old officers and men to divide the crew into two hostile camps. The discontent at the delay over payment of wages and prize money had deepened. Although the crew was large, fierce in temper, and at first very anxious to look for further prizes, they yet, after the cruise had continued for some time without success, refused to continue unless they were paid. Jones, in order to induce them to embark from Corunna, Spain, where the Alliance had put in for repairs and provisions, promised that he would sail immediately for L'Orient, where they should receive their prize money. As soon as he was again at sea, however, Jones informed his officers that he intended to make a further cruise of twenty days. Fanning, one of the officers, quotes Jones:-- "'And,' says he, with a kind of contemptuous smile, which he was much addicted to, 'Gentlemen, you cannot conceive what an additional honor it would be to all of us, if in cruising a few days we should have the good luck to fall in with an English frigate of our force and carry her in with us.... This would crown our former victories, and our names, in consequence thereof, would be handed down to latest posterity by some faithful historian of our country.'" Fanning adds in a footnote: "Jones had a wonderful notion of his name being handed down to posterity." When the officers remonstrated on the ground that the men were badly clothed, Jones flew into a rage and ordered them to go to their duty. He found, however, that he could not, with a mutinous crew, continue his course effectively, and reluctantly sailed for L'Orient, where he arrived on February 10, 1780. VII SOCIETY IN PARIS The following year, passed mainly in France, at Paris or L'Orient, was spent by Jones in trying to collect prize money, secure an important command, and in society, where he shone more resplendently than ever. He wrote rather more than his usual large number of letters,--to Franklin, Robert Morris, the Duchesse de Chartres, Arthur Lee, Dr. Bancroft, and many others,--in practically all of them urging some one of his warmly desired projects. His correspondence with Benjamin Franklin was largely about prize money and the expense of repairing the Alliance, which he undertook to do immediately on his arrival at L'Orient. The frugal doctor attempted to curb, in the matter of expense, the free-handed Jones. The latter had an enormous respect for Franklin, and it is quite likely that he attempted to be economical, but he seems to have been less successful in that direction than in any other. Fanning speaks of the "great and unnecessary expense" involved in Jones's elaborate alterations, and narrates how, at a later period, when Jones was in command of the Ariel, anchored in the harbor at L'Orient, a magnificent spectacle was given on board for the entertainment of the ladies and gentlemen invited by Jones. A mock fight between the Bonhomme Richard and the Serapis, in which vast quantities of ammunition were destroyed, took place. The vessel was finely carpeted and decorated, a regal banquet was served, military music played, and in general "neither cash nor pains," says Fanning, "were spared in order that the scene every way should appear magnificent." Although the hero never seemed to take account of the extreme poverty of the infant republic, it is only fair to add that he spent his own money as freely as any one else's, and that he often served without pay, a fact continually attested to by himself in his letters and journals. Jones's lack of success, in spite of his energetic attempts in collecting at this time the prize money, about which there were many annoying technicalities, increased the discontent of his crew, and prepared the way for the seizure of the Alliance by the mad Landais. Arthur Lee, formerly one of the American commissioners in Europe, had always been hostile to Jones and unsympathetic with Dr. Franklin and with the revolutionary party generally; to such a degree, indeed, that he was accused, not unjustly, of treachery to the cause of American independence. At the time that the Alliance was at L'Orient, Lee was waiting an opportunity to return to America. Captain Landais, who had been deprived of the command of the Alliance by order of Benjamin Franklin, then the sole representative of the United States in France, and who had likewise been ordered by the doctor to report to the Marine Committee on the charge of infamous conduct, planned to take the Alliance from Jones, and was supported in the attempt by Lee, who contended that neither Franklin nor Jones could deprive Landais of a command given him by Congress. Lee's desire to take the ship from Jones was augmented by the latter's refusal to make room for the ex-commissioner's many effects, including two fine coaches,--space which was much needed for the accommodation of supplies for Washington's army. Lee and Landais consequently encouraged the discontent among the crew of the Alliance, and one day, June 13, when Jones was on shore at L'Orient, Landais went on board the ship, and, supported by his old officers and by Lee, took possession. When Jones heard of it he was very angry, and acted, according to Fanning, "more like a madman than a conqueror;" but, as usual, his anger was quickly controlled and the definite steps he took in the affair were marked by great moderation. The commandant of the defenses at L'Orient had received orders from the French government to fire on the Alliance, if Landais should attempt to take her out of the harbor; and it seems he would have obeyed and probably sunk the ship, had not Jones himself interfered, and induced him to stay his hand. In a letter to Franklin, Jones said:-- "Your humanity will, I know, justify the part I acted in preventing a scene that would have made me miserable the rest of my life." Jones was probably not over sorry to lose the Alliance. There was nothing very thrilling in the prospect of carrying supplies to America, and Jones at that time hoped fervently to get hold of the Serapis and other ships and make another warlike cruise against the coast of England. So Landais sailed away with the Alliance, but to his own ruin, as the clear-sighted Jones had predicted in a remarkable letter written a short time before the ship sailed to a mutinous officer on the Alliance. On the voyage Landais's eccentricity caused his friend Lee to put him under arrest, and on the arrival in America, a court of inquiry found him unfit for command, and he never again burdened the service. Jones was left at L'Orient with the little Ariel, armed with eighteen twelve-pounders and four six-pounders, a ship loaned by the king to Dr. Franklin, and with high hopes, as usual, of more glorious opportunities. But many months intervened before he sailed again,--a time he devoted to business and society. As Jones and his interesting midshipman Fanning separated at the end of this period, the latter's final impressions of his captain may here be given:-- "Captain Jones was a man of about five feet six inches high, well shaped below his head and shoulders, rather round shouldered, with a visage fierce and warlike, and wore the appearance of great application to study, which he was fond of. He was an excellent seaman and knew naval tactics as well as almost any man of his age; but it must be allowed that his character was somewhat tinctured with bad qualities ... his courage and bravery as a naval commander cannot be doubted. His smoothness of tongue and flattery to seamen when he wanted them was persuasive, and in which he excelled any other man I was ever acquainted with.... His pride and vanity while at Paris and Amsterdam was not generally approved of." Fanning has many anecdotes to relate in regard to Jones's affairs of gallantry of an humble character. Several of Jones's biographers have dwelt upon the gorgeous and aristocratic nature of the hero's amours. Fanning has the solitary distinction of narrating the other side. Jones, indeed, was a good deal of a snob, but he was broadly appreciative of the fair sex. He probably was never deeply in love with anybody, certainly not with any woman of humble character. Of such his appreciation was of a simple and earthly kind. Although Jones seems to have had no intimate friends, with possibly one exception, there certainly was about him a very strong charm, which made him a favorite in good society. He had a flattering tongue, a ready wit, and a gallant manner. Of Jones's attractions Benjamin Franklin once wrote to a woman:-- "I must confess to your Ladyship that when face to face with him neither man nor, so far as I can learn, woman can for a moment resist the strange magnetism of his presence, the indescribable charm of his manner, a commingling of the most compliant deference with the most perfect self-esteem that I have ever seen in a man; and, above all, the sweetness of his voice and the purity of his language." Mr. Varnum of Rhode Island, who met Jones only in connection with public business, said of him:-- "I confess there was a magic about his way and manner that I have never before seen. Whatever he said carried conviction with it." Even more sensible of Jones's charms than the men were the women, who were universally dazzled by the brilliant hero. Miss Edes-Herbert, an Englishwoman living in Paris, writes, among other flattering things about him:-- "Since my last, the famous Paul Jones has dined here and also been present at afternoon teas. If I am in love with him, for love I may die, I am sure, because I have as many rivals as there are ladies." She records that Jones wrote verses for the ladies extempore, and gives a sample, the sentiments of which are as characteristic of the declamatory century as of the naïvely vain Jones:-- "Insulted Freedom bled,--I felt her cause, And drew my sword to vindicate her laws, From principle, and not from vain applause. I've done my best; self-interest far apart, And self-reproach a stranger to my heart; My zeal still prompts, ambitious to pursue The foe, ye fair, of liberty and you: Grateful for praise, spontaneous and unbought, A generous people's love not meanly sought; To merit this, and bend the knee to beauty, Shall be my earliest and latest duty." Many of Jones's flowery letters to distinguished women are preserved. On one occasion he wrote to a certain countess, informing her that he was composing a secret cipher for a key to their correspondence, and added: "I beseech you to accept the within lock (of hair). I am sorry that it is now eighteen inches shorter than it was three months ago." The only case in which Jones's affections seem to have reached beyond good nature, common kindness, or gallantry, to the point of love, was that of Aimée de Thelison. She was the natural daughter of Louis XV., and this fact no doubt greatly heightened her interest in the eyes of the aristocratic Jones. She was a person of beauty and charm, and felt deep love for Jones. His love for her was of a cool character, which did not interfere with any of the enterprises taking him so frequently away from Paris. His letters to her are with one exception hardly love letters. The warmest words in that exception are:-- "The last French packet brought no letter to me from the person whose happiness is dearer to me than anything else.... Your silence makes even honors insipid." It was while Jones was waiting thus gayly to sail for America, that the king of France bestowed upon him, in recognition of his services to the common cause, the Royal Order of Military Merit and a gold-mounted sword of honor, and made him Chevalier of France. It was, as Jones himself frequently wrote, a singular honor, he being the first alien to be made a French chevalier; and Jones prized this favor from a king more than he would the gift of a million dollars. The gold sword also pleased him deeply, and he asked the countess to whom he had sent the lock of hair to keep it for him, lest he lose it. He wrote of this gift:-- "His Majesty ordered a superb sword to be made for me, which I have since received, and it is called much more elegant than that presented to the Marquis de la Fayette." VIII PRIVATE AMBITION AND PUBLIC BUSINESS Benjamin Franklin, knowing the value of the supplies to Washington's army, had implored Jones to embark several months before the little Ariel actually set sail, October 8, 1780. But Jones, hoping for an important command in Europe, and delayed by business in connection with fitting out his ship, and perhaps by the gayeties he was engaged in at Paris, did not show much concern over General Washington's distress. When he finally did sail, he encountered a terrible storm, and it was only the best of seamanship which enabled him to avoid shipwreck. As it was, he was compelled to put back for repairs to L'Orient, where, in a series of letters, he manoeuvred in vain for the loan of the fine ship Terpsichore. It was not until December 18 that the Ariel got under way again for America. The voyage was uneventful, with the exception of a night battle with a British privateer sloop of inferior force. Jones cleverly concealed his greater strength, and thus lured the Englishman to engage. After a ten-minute fight, the Triumph struck its colors, but, when the Ariel ceased firing, sailed away and escaped, to Jones's exceeding mortification. "The English captain," he wrote in his journal, "may properly be called a knave, because after he surrendered his ship, begged for and obtained quarter, he basely ran away, contrary to the laws of naval war and the practice of civilized nations." Paul Jones, when he arrived in Philadelphia, the 18th of February, 1781, was thirty-three years old and had actively served in the United States navy for five years and five months. He never fought another battle under the United States flag; indeed, with the exception of his distressing experiences in Russia, he never fought again under any flag. But to his dying day he did not cease to plan great naval deeds and to hope for greater opportunity to harass the enemy--any enemy. In view of his great ambition and ability, circumstances allowed him to accomplish little. He had only one opportunity, and the way he responded made him famous; but though it brought him honor it did not satisfy him, and the rest of his life was a series of disappointments. His bitterness grew apace, and before he died he was a genuinely pathetic figure. Soon after Jones's arrival at Philadelphia, the Board of Admiralty required him to give "all the information in his power relative to the detention of the clothing and arms in France intended for Washington's army;" and a series of forty-seven questions, on the subject not only of the delay but also on matters connected generally with his cruises, were submitted to him. He attributed, with probable justice, the instigation of this investigation to his enemy Arthur Lee, whom he desired in consequence to challenge to a duel. He was dissuaded, however, from this step, as well as from the publication of a paper he had written called "Arthur Lee in France," in which he made a circumstantial charge against Lee of "treason, perfidy, and the office of a spy," by some of his distinguished friends, including Morris and Livingston. Without either the duel or the publication of the paper, Jones was, however, completely vindicated. He answered the questions with clearness and skill, to the complete satisfaction of the board, which recommended that Congress confer on the hero some distinguished mark of approbation. A committee was appointed to question Jones personally, and the impression he made upon it is another proof of the remarkable suavity, plausibility and magnetism of the man. One of the examining committeemen wrote:-- "From his beginning no one thought of disputing him. Toward the end we seldom ventured to ask him any questions. He made himself master of the situation throughout. At the end the committee felt honored by having had the privilege of listening to him." On the committee's recommendation Congress, which had already on Jones's arrival resolved "that Congress entertain a high sense of the distinguished bravery and military conduct of John Paul Jones, Esq., captain in the navy of the United States, and particularly in his victory over the British frigate Serapis," gave Jones a further vote of thanks, "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." Soon after, the intrepid man to whom were given so many testimonials and so few satisfactory commands received an appreciative letter from General Washington, who, after stating his satisfaction with Jones's explanation of the delay of the supplies, said:-- "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 instance 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 a long and honorable service or by the performance of some brilliant action." It now seemed to Jones a favorable opportunity to improve his rank, and on May 28 he sent a memorial to Congress reiterating his claims to stand above the captains who had been unjustly put ahead of him. He failed, probably on account of the political influence wielded by the captains; but in the way of compensation he was appointed commander of the new vessel then building at Portsmouth, a seventy-four, called the America, the only ship of the line owned by the States,--a "singular honor," as he expressed it. John Adams, who had at one time been unfriendly to Jones, looking upon him as "a smooth, plausible, and rather capable adventurer," wrote him, _à propos_ of this appointment:-- "The command of the America could not have been more judiciously bestowed, and it is with impatience that I wish her at sea, where she will do honor to her name." Jones had hoped to join Washington's army, then campaigning against Cornwallis, as a volunteer, but he cheerfully gave up this exciting prospect in order to prepare the America for sea,--"the most lingering and disagreeable task," he wrote, "he had been charged with during the whole of the war." He did his job with his usual efficiency, however, and with his usual extravagance, which he called simplicity. He wrote in his journal: "The plan which Captain Jones projected for the sculpture expressed dignity and simplicity. The head was a female figure crowned with laurels. The right arm was raised, with the forefinger pointing to heaven.... On the left arm was a buckler, with a blue ground and thirteen silver stars. The legs and feet were covered here and there with wreaths of smoke, to represent the dangers and difficulties of war. On the stern, under the windows of the great cabin, appeared two large figures in bas-relief, representing Tyranny and Oppression, bound and biting the ground, with the cap of Liberty on a pole above their heads. On the back part of the starboard quarter was a large Neptune; and on the back part of the larboard quarter gallery, a large Mars." As a reward for all this industry and æsthetic effort Jones had another disappointment; for in August, 1782, the French seventy-four gunship, the Magnifique, was wrecked at the entrance to Boston harbor, and Congress gave the America to the king of France. With undaunted energy Jones now attempted to get hold of the South Carolina, originally called the Indien, which he had formerly, when he crossed the ocean in the Ranger, failed to secure. She was now, under the new name, in the service of the States, and Robert Morris tried to turn her over to Jones, that he might again "harass the enemy." But the plan failed, and Jones remained without a command. Unable to rest, although his health had for some time been failing, he now requested and obtained consent "to embark as a volunteer in pursuit of military marine knowledge with the Marquis de Vaudreuil, in order to enable him the better to serve his country when America should increase her navy." He went off, accordingly, on the cruise with the French fleet; but the expedition, during the course of which peace was declared, was uneventful, and Jones, who had had an attack of fever, spent the summer of 1783 quietly in the town of Bethlehem. In the following November, however, he renewed his activity, and on his application was appointed by Congress agent to collect all moneys due from the sale of the prizes taken in European waters by vessels under his command. Although money was subordinate, in Jones's mind, to glory and the opportunity for action, he was an excellent business man. His commercial transactions had been successful enough to enable him to pay with his own resources the crews of the Alfred and Providence, so that when he set sail in the Ranger he had advanced £1500 to the United States. After the close of the war, at a period of comparative inactivity, he began a profitable trade in illuminating oils, and in his character as prize money agent he continued to show his business dexterity. He began a long campaign of a year of most pertinacious and vigorous dunning for money due the United States, himself, and the officers and sailors under his command. He wrote innumerable letters to Franklin, to de Castries, the new Minister of Marine, to de Vergennes, Minister of Foreign Affairs; to many others, and prepared for the king a careful account of his cruises, in order to show that prize money was due. In arguing for all that he could get he showed great acuteness, legal sense, and, beyond everything, invincible determination. He also again demonstrated his happy talent for abuse of those who stood in his way. He finally secured the allowance of his claims; and the settlements, which began in January, 1784, were completed, as far as France was concerned, in July, 1785. He was paid 181,000 livres, which he turned over, less deductions for expenses and his own share of the prize money, to Thomas Jefferson, then minister to France, who approved the account. Jones charged for his ordinary expenses, however, the sum of 48,000 livres and his share of prize money was 13,000 livres, a total of 61,000 livres, a generous allowance. One of the free-handed man's biographers, A. S. MacKenzie, pointed out that Jones "charged his shipmates for his expenses, during less than two years, more than General Washington did the people of the United States throughout the Revolutionary War." The next public business of Jones was to attempt to collect indemnity from the Danish government for the delivery to England of the prizes sent by the mad Landais, during Jones's most famous cruise, to Bergen, Denmark. He delayed his trip to Copenhagen, however, for a number of reasons. At this time he was carrying on several private business enterprises of importance, was occupied with society in London and Paris, and was eagerly desirous of being sent by the French government against the Dey of Algiers, who held in bondage many Christians. At various times during his career Jones showed a keen sense of the wrongs inflicted on Americans by the Barbary pirates in search of tribute, and in his letters to Jefferson and others he often suggested plans for their extermination. For de Vergennes and de Castries he prepared a memorandum urging the necessity of a movement against the pirates, and ably pointing out the good that would accrue therefrom to the world, and particularly to France, to which nation he attributed future dominion in North Africa, provided action was taken in time to forestall Great Britain. "The knowledge of the race persuades me," he wrote, "that England will soon invade the Mediterranean--doubtless as soon as she recovers from the exhaustion of the late war." The United States, however, were after the war lacking so completely in resources that a war with the pirates was impossible, and France was on the brink of her great Revolution, and had more important things to consider. So Jones died before the expedition for which he had so ardently hoped, and which brought so much honor, as he had predicted, to the man who commanded it--Commodore Dale, once Jones's first lieutenant on the Bonhomme Richard--was dispatched. Jones finally set off for Copenhagen to collect the indemnity from the Danish government; but hearing of a crisis in an important business matter in which he was interested, he made, before arriving at his destination, a flying trip to America. While there, he was awarded a gold medal by Congress, and said in his journal that such a medal had been given to only six officers. "To General Washington, for the capture of Boston; General Gates, for the capture of Burgoyne's army; General Wayne, for the taking of Rocky Point;... General Morgan, for having defeated and destroyed a detachment of 1100 officers and soldiers of the best troops of England, with 900 militia merely; General Greene, for having scored a decisive victory on the enemy at Euta Spring.... But all these medals, although well merited, were given in moments of enthusiasm. I had the unique satisfaction of receiving the same honor, by the unanimous voice of the United States assembled in Congress, the sixteenth October, 1787, in memory of the services which I rendered eight years earlier." It was not until January, 1788, that Paul Jones arrived at Copenhagen, where, during his short stay, he was magnificently entertained by the court. The negotiations for the indemnity, which he began almost immediately, were abruptly terminated by the transfer of the matter for settlement to Paris. Jones, on the day he agreed to suspend the negotiations, received from the Danish government a patent for a pension of 1500 crowns a year, "for the respect he had shown the Danish flag while he commanded in the European seas." Jones kept this transaction, for which he possibly felt ashamed, to himself, until several years afterwards, when, writing to Jefferson, he said: "I have felt myself in an embarrassing situation, with regard to the king's patent, and I have not yet made use of it, though three years have elapsed since I received it." On Jones's return to Paris from America, previous to his Copenhagen trip, the Russian ambassador to France, Baron Simolin, had made, through Mr. Jefferson, a proposition looking to the appointment of the conqueror of the Serapis to a position in the navy of Russia, then about to war with the Turks. Simolin wrote Catherine II. of Russia that, "with the chief command of the fleet and _carte blanche_ he would undertake that in a year Paul Jones would make Constantinople tremble." This exciting possibility was no doubt constantly in Jones's mind while he was at Copenhagen, and probably increased his willingness to dismiss the indemnity negotiations. He began immediately to manoeuvre for the highest command possible. He demurred to the rank of captain-commandant, equal to that of major-general in the army, and maintained that nothing less than rear-admiral was fitting. He laid the account of all his deeds and honors before the dazzled Russian minister at Copenhagen, and said: "The unbounded admiration and profound respect which I have long felt for the glorious character of her Imperial Majesty, forbids the idea that a sovereign so magnanimous should sanction any arrangement that may give pain at the outset to the man she deigns to honor with her notice, and who wishes to devote himself entirely to her service." In order to be in a better position for extorting honors from the empress, Jones wrote Jefferson suggesting that Congress bestow upon him the rank of rear-admiral; and took occasion to assert, on the eve of taking service under a despot, the undying character of his love for America. "I am not forsaking," he wrote, "the country that has had so many distinguished and difficult proofs of my affection; and can never renounce the glorious title of _a citizen of the United States_" [Italics are Jones's]. Jones left Copenhagen on his ill-fated Russian mission, April 11, and made a flying and perilous trip to St. Petersburg. He crossed the ice-blocked Baltic in a small boat, compelled, at the muzzle of his pistols, the unwilling boatmen to proceed, and on his arrival at his destination, on April 23, was presented to the empress, who conferred upon him the coveted rank of rear-admiral, to the intense irritation of many of the English officers in the service of Russia, who looked upon Jones as a red-handed pirate. In June Catherine wrote to her favorite at the time: "I am sorry that all the officers are raging about Paul Jones. I hope fervently that they will cease their mad complaints, for he is necessary to us." In 1792, long after the war in which Jones had played a part, Catherine said, with a different accent: "Ce Paul Jones était une bien mauvaise tête." Certainly Jones's diplomacy, which was of a direct character, was not equal to his present situation, unfamiliar to him, and for success demanding conduct tortuous and insincere to an Oriental degree. Jones, in comparison with his associates in Russia, was remarkably truthful,--a trait which involved him in humiliating difficulties, and which was a source of irritation to the empress and to all concerned. IX IN THE RUSSIAN SERVICE Paul Jones left St. Petersburg on May 7, to take command of the Russian squadron in the Black Sea. Before his departure he requested of the empress "never to be condemned unheard." This, one of the most modest demands Jones ever made, was, as the sequel will show, denied him. He arrived on the 19th at St. Elizabeth, the headquarters of Prince Potemkin, the former favorite of the empress and the commander in chief of the war against the Turks. Potemkin, under whose orders Jones stood, was of a thoroughly despotic type. As Potemkin was a prince, Jones was at first disposed to flatter him extravagantly, but the commodore was by nature averse to being dictated to, particularly by those whom he deemed his inferiors, and it was not long before they began to quarrel. Paul Jones was put in command of the squadron which was to oppose the fleet of the Capitan Pacha, and thus help the Russian army to take Oczakow, a town lying at the junction of the Bog with the Knieper, which had been strongly fortified by the Turks. Unfortunately, Jones was not only subject to the orders of Prince Potemkin, but the immediate command of the fleet was divided between him and a thoroughly incompetent and arrogant adventurer, the Prince of Nassau. Jones commanded the heavier ships, forming the squadron, while Nassau was in charge of a considerable force of Russian gunboats and barges, composing what was called the flotilla. Between Jones and Nassau existed extreme jealousy. In fact, the only officer in high position with whom Jones stood on an amicable footing was the distinguished General Suwarrow. Early in the campaign the Russian had advised Jones to allow Potemkin to take the credit of any success that might result, and to hold his tongue,--two things which Jones, unfortunately, was quite incapable of doing. It is impossible to enter into the details of this campaign, but enough may be given to explain the difficulties which Jones encountered. After some unimportant engagements between the two fleets, an action of importance occurred which disclosed the deep differences between Jones and his Russian allies. The Capitan Pacha attempted to attack the Russian fleet, but one of his ships ran aground, and the others anchored. Jones saw his opportunity and ordered a general attack on the confused Turkish fleet, which cut anchor and fled, with Jones in pursuit. The Wolodimer, Jones's flagship, steered straight for the Capitan Pacha's ship, which ran aground; whereupon one of Jones's officers, without orders, dropped the Wolodimer's anchor. In the mean time the flotilla, under Nassau, lagged behind, and Jones, in order to offset the operations of the Turkish flotilla, which had already destroyed one of the Russian frigates, left his anchored flagship to go in search of Nassau, whom he found with his flotilla occupied in firing on two Turkish ships which were aground and were, moreover, under the guns of the Russian ships, and might justly be regarded as prizes. Nassau persisted in this useless undertaking until the enemy's vessels had been burned and the crews had perished in the flames. When Jones found he was unable to withdraw the prince from this bloody and unprofitable proceeding, he ordered an attack, with a part of Nassau's ships, upon the Turkish flotilla, which was soon driven off. During the night the Capitan Pacha attempted to pass out from the Liman, with the remains of his squadron; but nine of his ships grounded, and, being thus brought within range of the Russian fort on the extreme point of Kinburn, were fired upon and were practically at the mercy of the Russians. Nevertheless, the Prince of Nassau advanced in the morning with his flotilla, and, to Jones's extreme rage, burned the grounded Turkish ships, three thousand Turks who were practically prisoners perishing in the flames. On July 1 Nassau, with his flotilla, advanced against the flotilla of the Turks, but did not seem anxious to go within grapeshot; and Jones, with his heavier ships, went to capture five Turkish galleys lying under the cover of the guns of the Turkish battery and flotilla. Two of these galleys were captured and the others destroyed. Nassau and Alexiano directed their belligerent efforts against the captured galleys, one of which was--with all the slaves on board,--ruthlessly burned. Other Turkish ships were likewise needlessly destroyed, a mode of warfare quite at variance with the traditions of Jones. He expressed his consequent disgust in terms more genuine than diplomatic. As a reward of his idiotic actions, on the basis of an inflated and dishonest report of the battle which was sent to the empress, Nassau received a valuable estate, the military order of St. George, and authority to hoist the flag of rear-admiral; other officers were also substantially rewarded; while all that was given to Jones, whose honest but unflattering report had been rejected by Potemkin, was the order of St. Anne. It is easy to imagine Jones's bitterness. He says in his journal: "If he (Nassau) has received the rank of vice-admiral, I will say in the face of the universe that he is unworthy of it." Referring to the cowardice of his associates who, in order to escape, he says, provided their boats with small _chaloupes_, Jones writes:-- "For myself I took no precautions. I saw that I must conquer or die." Jones's bitterness, partly justified by the facts, seems at this time to have reached almost the point of madness, and the quarrel between him and his associates increased in virulence. In the course of the unimportant operations following the defeat of the Turks, during which the squadron maintained a strict blockade of Oczakow, Jones was sent on a number of trivial enterprises by Potemkin, whose language was carefully chosen to irritate the fiery Scotchman. On one occasion he commanded Jones "to receive him (the Capitan Pacha) courageously, and drive him back. I require that this be done without loss of time; if not, you will be made answerable for every neglect." In reply, Jones complained of the injustice done his officers. Shortly afterwards Jones doubted the wisdom of one of Potemkin's orders, and wrote: "Every man is master of his opinion, and this is mine." When Potemkin again wrote Jones "to defend himself courageously," the latter's annotation was: "It will be hard to believe that Prince Potemkin addressed such words to Paul Jones." To the prince he wrote in terms alternately flattering and complaining:-- "Your Highness has so good a heart that you will excuse the hastiness of expression which escaped me. I am anxious to continue in the service." But the despotic Potemkin had made up his mind that he could not get along with Paul Jones, and with an indirectness characteristic of him, secured an order for the latter for service "in the northern seas." This was practically a dismissal for Jones, who returned in virtual disgrace to St. Petersburg, where he hoped to be put in command of the Baltic fleet. Catherine, however, was now sincerely anxious to get rid of Jones, but on account of his powerful friends in France did not dare to do so openly. She had "condemned him unheard," and repeated her injustice in a still more pointed way; for in March, 1789, while Jones was waiting for the command which never came, he was falsely accused of an atrocious crime and forbidden to approach the palace of the empress, being again "condemned unheard." Had it not been for the French ambassador, de Ségur, who had a strong influence on Catherine, the crime might always have been attributed to Paul Jones. De Ségur, however, proved to Catherine that Jones was the victim of a plot, and she was forced to recall the unfortunate man to court. Soon afterwards Jones, who had for a long time been greatly suffering in health, was given two years' leave of absence. Paul Jones's experience in Russia was the most unfortunate part of an unfortunate career. His services to that country, which were considerable, were never recognized. His report of the Liman campaign had been rejected, and he had been unjustly deposed from the actual command and an empty promise substituted. His letters had been systematically intercepted, and he was a victim, not only of a detestable plot involving his moral character, but of many other charges equally virulent and untrue. It was grotesquely reported, for instance, that he had murdered his nephew, who in reality did not exist. The leave of absence, moreover, must have been to a man of his spirit a severe blow. At the close of the journal of the Liman campaign Jones's bitterness is pathetically expressed in inflated self-praise, called out by the desire to confute the calumnies of his enemies. "Every one to whom I have the honor to be known," he wrote, "is aware that I am the least selfish of mankind.... This is known to the whole American people.... Have I not given proofs sufficiently striking that I have a heart the most sensitive, a soul the most elevated?... I am the only man in the world that possesses a sword given by the king of France ... but what completes my happiness is the esteem and friendship of the most virtuous of men, whose fame will be immortal; and that a Washington, a Franklin, a D'Estaing, a La Fayette, think the bust of Paul Jones worthy of being placed side by side with their own.... Briefly, I am satisfied with myself." X LAST DAYS On August 18, 1789, Paul Jones left St. Petersburg, never to return, and never again to fight a battle. He was only forty-two years old, but although his ambition was as intense as ever, his health had through unremitting exertions and exposure become undermined. For many years the active man had not known what it was to sleep four hours at a time, and now his left lung was badly affected, and he had only a few years more to live. After an extended tour, devoted mainly to business and society,--during the course of which he met Kosciusko at Warsaw, visited, among other cities, Vienna, Munich, Strassburg, and London,--Jones reached Paris, where Aimée de Thelison and his true home were, on May 30, 1790. He resigned from his position in the Russian navy, and remained most of the time until his death in the French capital. The great French Revolution had taken place; and Paul Jones occupied the position, unusual for him, of a passive spectator of great events. Acquainted with men of all parties, with Bertrand Barère, Carnot, Robespierre, and Danton, as well as with the more conservative men with whom his own past had led him to sympathize,--Lafayette, Mirabeau, and Malesherbes,--Jones's last days were not lacking in picturesque opportunity for observation. He felt great sympathy for the king, with whom he had been acquainted, and who had bestowed upon him the title of chevalier and the gold sword. For Mirabeau, as for other really great men Jones knew,--Franklin, Washington, and Suwarrow,--he had extreme admiration, and on the occasion of the famous Frenchman's death wrote: "I have never seen or read of a man capable of such mastery over the passions and the follies of such a mob. There is no one to take the place of Mirabeau." Of the mob Jones wrote with aristocratic hatred: "There have been many moments when my heart turned to stone towards those who call themselves 'the people' in France. More than once have I harbored the wish that I might be intrusted by Lafayette with the command of the Palace, with _carte blanche_ to defend the constitution; and that I might have once more with me, if only for one day, my old crews of the Ranger, the Richard, and the Alliance! I surely would have made the thirty cannon of the courtyard teach to that mad rabble the lesson that grapeshot has its uses in struggles for the rights of man!" Jones always had much to say on the organization of navies and the principles of naval warfare. About this time he wrote a letter to Admiral Kersaint, of the French navy, in which he criticised fearlessly and trenchantly the naval tactics of the French. Their policy, he explained, was to "neutralize the power of their adversaries, if possible, by grand manoeuvres rather than to destroy it by grand attack;" and objecting to this policy, the dashing Jones, who always desired to "get alongside the enemy," wrote: "Their (the French) combinations have been superb; but as I look at them, they have not been harmful enough; they have not been calculated to do as much capturing or sinking of ships, and as much crippling or killing of seamen, as true and lasting success in naval warfare seems to me to demand.... Should France thus honor me [with a command] it must be with the unqualified understanding that I am not to be restricted by the traditions of her naval tactics; but with full consent that I may, on suitable occasion, to be decreed by my judgment on the spot, try conclusions with her foes to the bitter end or to death, at shorter range and at closer quarters than have hitherto been sanctioned by her tactical authorities." Paul Jones, although in these last years he was forced, more than was agreeable to him, to play the rôle of an intelligent commentator, remained a man of action to the end. He sought, this time in vain, to extract from the French government wages still due the crew of the old Bonhomme Richard. His failure brought out an unusually bitter letter, in which he again recounted his services and the wrongs done him by the various ministers of marine. As he grew older and more disappointed the deeds he had done seemed mountain high to him. "My fortitude and self-denial alone dragged Holland into the war, a service of the greatest importance to this nation; for without that great event, no calculation can ascertain when the war would have ended.... Would you suppose that I was driven out of the Texel in a single frigate belonging to the United States, in the face of forty-two English ships and vessels posted to cut off my retreat?" With equal energy the failing commodore never ceased to hope and strive for an important command. To head an expedition against the Barbary pirates had long been with him a favorite scheme, and now he looked forward eagerly to a position in the French navy. By the irony of fate a letter came from Mr. Jefferson announcing Jones's appointment as commissioner for treating with the Dey and government of Algiers. But it was too late, for before the letter arrived in Paris Paul Jones was dead. On July 11, 1792, a week before he died, he had attended a session of the French Assembly and had made a felicitous speech. He expressed his love for America, for France, and for the cause of liberty, and regretted his failing health as interfering with his activity in their service. He closed with the pathetic words:-- "But ill as I am, there is yet something left of the man--not the admiral, not the chevalier--but the plain, simple man whom it delights me to hear you call 'Paul Jones,' without any rank but that of fellowship, and without any title but that of comrade. So now I say to you that whatever is left of that man, be it never so faint or feeble, will be laid, if necessary, upon the altar of French Liberty as cheerfully as a child lies down to pleasant dreams! My friends, I would love to pursue this theme, but, as you see, my voice is failing and my lower limbs become swollen when I stand up too long. At any rate I have said enough. I am now ready to act whenever and wheresoever bidden by the voice of France." Jones's cough and the swelling in his legs continued; a few days later jaundice and dropsy set in, and it was clear to his friends that the end was near. Aimée de Thelison, Gouverneur Morris, and some of the distinguished revolutionists were about him during the last few days of his life. On the afternoon of July 18, 1792, his will was witnessed, and about seven o'clock in the evening he was found in his room, lying with his clothes on, face down across the middle of the bed, dead. The next day the National Assembly passed a resolution decreeing "that twelve of its members shall assist at the funeral of a man who has so well served the cause of liberty." True or not, the words attributed to Napoleon after Trafalgar, in 1805, are no more than justice to Paul Jones. "How old," Napoleon asked, "was Paul Jones when he died?" On being told that Jones was forty-five years old at the time of his death, Napoleon said:-- "Then he did not fulfill his destiny. Had he lived to this time, France might have had an admiral." Paul Jones has been called by his friends patriot, and by his enemies pirate. In reality he was neither. He was not one of those deeply ethical natures that subordinate personal glory and success to the common good. As an American he cannot be ranked with his great contemporaries, for his patriotism consisted merely in being fair and devoted to the side he had for the time espoused rather than in quiet work as a citizen after the spectacular opportunity had passed. He was ready to serve wherever he saw the best chance for himself, whether it was with the United States, Russia, or France. In no unworthy sense of the word, however, was he an adventurer. The deepest thing in his soul, the love of glory, rendered him incapable at once of meanness and of true patriotism. In search for fame he gave up family, friends, and religion. In these relations of life he would have been and was, as far as he went, tolerant and kind; but in them he was not interested. Love of glory made him a lonely figure. It rendered him a _poseur_, vain and snobbish, but it also spurred him on to contend, with phenomenal energy, against almost innumerable difficulties. As far as his deeds are concerned, Paul Jones appears in the popular consciousness as he really was,--a bolt of effectiveness, a desperate, successful fighter, a sea captain whose habit was to appear unexpectedly to confound his enemies, and then to disappear, no one knew where, only to reappear with telling effect. He has been the hero of the novelists, who, expressing the popular idea, have pictured him with essential truth. A popular hero, indeed, he was, and will remain so, justly, in the memory of men. * * * * * The Riverside Press _Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co._ _Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ 
42864	----	available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 42864-h.htm or 42864-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42864/42864-h/42864-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42864/42864-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/thestoryofjohnpa00fras Famous Americans for Young Readers THE STORY OF JOHN PAUL JONES by CHELSEA C. FRASER Barse & Hopkins New York Newark N.Y. N.J. Copyright, 1922 By Barse & Hopkins Printed in the U. S. A. [Illustration] PREFACE For a corking tale of the sea it would be hard to find in all fiction a story to equal that of John Paul Jones, a figure of sober history. Yet history was not so "sober" after all, in those days when piracy was an actual fact, and even nations at times winked at privateering on the high seas. Jones was born with a love of the salt spray in his nostrils. He came to this country as a mere lad, but already a skilled sailor. When the Revolution broke out, he obtained command of a ship, and was the first to fly the Stars-and-Stripes in foreign waters. Then came his deeds of daring against the British Navy, and his repeated victories over tremendous odds. The fight between the _Bon Homme Richard_ and the _Serapis_ is a classic. "Surrender?" he cried with most of his rigging shot away, and his vessel sinking, "Why, I have just begun to fight!" Belated honors were done to his memory, a few years ago, when his body was brought home from a neglected grave in France, and reinterred at Annapolis with all the honors in the gift of the nation. When the readers young and old lay aside this thrilling story, they also will understand why America honors his memory. He may be regarded as the founder of the United States Navy. His flag, whether flying at the masthead of some saucy little sloop-of-war or on a more formidable ship of the line, never knew what it was to be hauled down in defeat. His name has become a tradition among all sea fighters. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. THE STORM 9 II. THE LAND ACROSS THE SEA 21 III. THE YOUNG SAILOR 31 IV. THE YOUNG PLANTER 45 V. THE BIRTH OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY 55 VI. RAISING THE FIRST AMERICAN FLAG 63 VII. AN INGLORIOUS CRUISE 75 VIII. THE YOUNG CAPTAIN 84 IX. ABOARD THE "RANGER" 98 X. IN THE ENEMY'S OWN WATERS 110 XI. OUTWITTING THE "DRAKE" 125 XII. THE QUEER CONDUCT OF CAPTAIN LANDAIS 130 XIII. FIGHTING FRIEND AND FOE 150 XIV. DIPLOMACY AND SOCIETY 163 XV. AND THE LAST 172 ILLUSTRATIONS John Paul Jones _Frontispiece_ _From a portrait by Chappel_ Fight between the _Serapis_ and the _Bon Homme Richard_ 150 _From a rare print_ Boarding the _Serapis_ 160 _From a rare print_ Paul Jones's Last Burial 178 _Midshipmen escorting the casket to its final resting place, in Annapolis, April 24, 1906_ THE STORY OF JOHN PAUL JONES I THE STORM In the summer of 1759, James Younger, a prosperous shipowning merchant of Whitehaven, England, found himself short of sailors to man a new vessel he had just secured. Said he to himself, "I know just where I shall be likely to pick up such fellows as I need. To-morrow I shall go to Arbigland." Arbigland was a small fishing-village directly across the Solway Firth, a sort of big bay which cuts a wedge into the borderline of Scotland and England and reaches out into the blueness of the Irish Sea. From this port fishing-boats in great numbers were wont to go forth in the early morning of the day and return at sunset with their catch. Practically every home was the hearth of a fisherman and his family--sturdy, weather-beaten men who knew the whims of a boat and the tricks of the sea better than they knew how to read and write; sturdy, hard-working mothers who knew more about baking bread and rearing good children than they did about social functions and social etiquette; sturdy lads and lassies who lived in the open and knew more about entertaining themselves with the rugged and wholesome interests of nature than they did about ball-rooms, wine suppers, and "movies." From Arbigland Mr. Younger had more than once before obtained excellent sailors, as had indeed many another ship-merchant and short-handed captain. Mr. Younger's hopes of securing good seamen in Arbigland were soon fulfilled. He found no trouble in signing up nearly enough that very evening, among them several officers. The following morning he completed his list, but did not attempt an immediate return to Whitehaven on account of bad weather. That day the winds increased and the sea became constantly more and more violent. By mid-afternoon the waves were running so high that the fishermen who had gone out came scurrying in, glad to find a safe anchorage in the harbor. Seeing a knot of idlers gathered on the waterfront, he joined them to find out what they were looking at. Not until one of them had painstakingly pointed out to him a small object, now in view on the crest of a mountainous wave, now vanished from sight in the trough of another, did he suspect that it could be a boat that had failed to get in. "It's Johnnie Paul and his little dory, I be sure," observed one of the fishermen, who held a glass to his eyes. "It looks fair bad f'r the lad this time, an' na mistake. It's gude his ain faither don't ken the boy's peril." "On'y twelve--a mere baby--an' him a-fightin' this nor'easter!" put in another fisherman, with a sorrowful shake of his grizzled head. "T'bad Johnnie's recklessness should 'a' got him in this fix. I'm afraid the lad's love for the sea will spell his doom this blow. He's a muckle bright lad, too." "An' a born seaman. If a lad are ever born to the sea Johnnie Paul are that chap," said another Scotsman in tarpaulin. "Mind ye, boys, we seen him make port afore in stoorms a'most this bad. Mayhap he'll do it noo. He's got the luck o' the devil in his small frame, that he has!" Whether it was "the luck of the devil" or just plain unvarnished skill which brought Johnnie Paul safely into port again that day will probably never be known. But the chances are, if luck entered into the matter at all, that good seamanship and intrepid daring performed the largest share of the performance, for, as the minutes went on and the small boat came bobbing nearer and nearer, it was evident to every one of those assembled seafaring men that the youngster was handling his steed with unusual cleverness. Virtually flying in the very face of disaster and death, the lad clung coolly to the tiller, his eyes snapping with excitement, his dark-brown hair tossing, while the vicious nor'easter almost tore his reefed sail from its fastenings, drenched him to the skin with its wild spray, and drove his cockleshell of a craft swiftly forward. Held spellbound by the struggle between boy and wave, thrilled at the magnificence of the lad's courage and the adroitness of his movements as his tiller-hand avoided yawning danger after yawning danger, Mr. Younger found himself praying for the safety of the daring young boatman, as he might have prayed for the deliverance of one of his own children from such a threatened fate. And it was with a vast sense of relief and thankfulness that, a little later, he saw Johnnie Paul guide his frail vessel into the protected waters of the harbor and up to the wharf, where she was securely made fast. Indeed, Mr. Younger was one of the very first to shake the hand of the dripping boy and congratulate him on his splendid performance. "If I mistake not, one of these days you will be a great sailor, my lad," said he, little knowing that he was predicting a truth. Johnnie Paul blushed painfully. But quickly the snap and sparkle returned to his hazel eyes. "Sir, it is what I should like to be--a great sailor," he said. Other words followed. "I shall see your father. Perhaps we can induce him to let you join one of my vessels," observed the ship-owner from Whitehaven. "You are very young, but old enough to become an apprentice or ship's-boy." Young John Paul ran home as fast as his legs could carry him, his heart beating with joy. Oh, such luck! It seemed to him he had always wanted to be a sailor--a real sailor, one who could tread a big vessel's deck, climb her rigging, and go far out to sea past that misty blue line that separated home waters from the mystery and adventure of the domain lying leagues beyond. Since he was a mere baby he recalled that he had always had a passion to sail something, even so simple a thing as a leaf, the half of a walnut shell, a bit of wood supporting a paper sail. And, in the beginning, the duck-pond, a horse-trough, or a puddle of rainwater, had been his sea. But he outgrew these limitations as he outgrew his kilts: more room must be provided for his bounding spirits and expanding ambition. Then had come first thoughts of the seashore; father's and mother's warnings that the strong tides of the Solway were too dangerous to play with, had only increased his desire to tussle with them. So he had run away, been sternly chastised, had run away again--until at length, despairing of restraining his son from the natural craving of his heart, John Paul senior threw away his switch and left the youngster to the care of Providence whenever his footsteps prompted him waterward. As time went on, young John had grown into a sturdy lad whose chief delight was to sail off in the fishermen's boats for a day's catch. What he dreamed, what he planned, as he watched the far horizon, no one knows, for he was not the kind of a boy to tell others of his inner thoughts at that age. But that he did have frequent golden dreams we may rest assured, since, between the times he was making himself useful in casting and hauling in the nets, his older comrades often caught him in abstracted study of distant spaces. In those days Scottish schools were not what they are now. There were very few of them then, and the instruction had not begun to reach the thoroughness it has since attained. Less than a dozen children attended the little school in Arbigland to which Johnnie Paul had been consigned at the age of eight. It was so difficult to get a teacher that sometimes for weeks at a time there was no one to hold forth in that office. These occasions were very satisfying to our Johnnie Paul, for the truth is, he much preferred paddling around the water to fingering over the pages of his books. But he was not lazy, and during the short time he did spend under the roof of a schoolhouse, he must have applied himself, for the records show that at twelve years of age he could figure and read and write very well indeed for that period. The lad's mother had been Jean Macduff, the daughter of an Argyll Highlander who had moved into the Lowlands, there to abandon his trade of armorer and become a farmer near New Abbey. Jean Macduff later left her home and came to Arbigland to accept a position as lady's-maid to a Mrs. Craik whose husband was a prosperous land-owner possessing an extensive estate and splendid buildings on top of the promontory hanging above the shores of the Solway. When quite a young man, John's father, a Lowlander, had also found employment on the Craik estate as gardener, and later by reason of his faithful work and popularity in the community, he had been made game-warden. The young gardener and the young lady's-maid soon fell in love with each other, were married, and in due course of time were blessed with five children, of whom Johnnie was the youngest. He was born in the year 1747. William, the brother, had gone to live with a cousin, William Jones, a childless planter in Virginia, before John was born. Willie had never been back since that day. He had been adopted by the distant cousin, and might never return, John's parents said, but it was hoped and expressed in letters that he would some of these days make the long voyage back to old Scotland for a brief visit. How Johnnie did yearn to see this big brother whose letters he loved to read but whom he had never seen! Of late he had even dared to think of making a voyage himself to American shores, there to seek out the long-absent one. The Paul cottage, overgrown with creepers, and sheltered from the fierce northeast winds by thick trees and shrubbery, stood so close to the seashore that it was never free from the sound of lapping waters and the boom of breakers. It was the boy's delight, before he went to sleep of a night, and before he arose of a morning, to lie for some time and listen to the music of the waves, his vivid fancy investing these voices with the power of telling him strange tales of strange peoples and strange places, far, far away. When young John was not on the water, in school, or at home, he could usually be found somewhere about Mr. Craik's estate. He was kindly treated, and the playmate of the sons of the good laird's family. With the democracy of boyhood he and the Craik lads enjoyed climbing everything in the neighborhood, from the highest trees to the most rugged cliffs, where lurked unexplored treasures in the shape of sea-birds' eggs. They penetrated caves and caverns under the cliffs with that sublime disregard of tides which is boyhood's happy prerogative. They lingered at the hearths of Old Elspeth and Meg Merrilies, in the valley below, drinking in tales of elf and goblin--too frightened to go home in the dusk, until the servants of the big house finally hunted up and retrieved them. And now all this commonplace existence was to be traded off for the more alluring one of a sailor's life--if only the stranger from Whitehaven did not forget to keep his word and ask Johnnie Paul's father and mother to permit him to go off to sea--and if that father and mother could be prevailed upon to give their consent! Young John had never covered the distance from the waterfront to his humble home as quickly as he had that stormy afternoon following his meeting with Mr. James Younger. There he shouted the news to his shocked mother, and then, still in his wet garments, ran over to the Craik estate and told his father and Mr. Craik himself. Had not the latter interceded in his behalf at the last moment it is doubtful if John Paul senior and his good wife would ever have allowed Johnnie to go, when Mr. Younger called that evening and presented the case to them. As it was, they finally agreed that their youngest son should become an apprentice to the Whitehaven ship-owner. Then John Paul was indeed a happy boy. He did not sleep a wink that night. All through the long hours he lay listening to the lashing waves. They had never sounded so sweet before. II THE LAND ACROSS THE SEA "Gude-by, mither! Gude-by, faither! Gude-by, dear sisters!" The big ship which had brought Mr. James Younger to Arbigland in quest of sailors tugged restlessly at her anchor-chains in the river. Her sails were being unfurled to the fresh breeze by her crew. The storm of the day before had subsided during the night, and all was ready for the departure. Already a yawl-load of newly-engaged seamen had reached the vessel's deck. And now, with a little bundle under his arm and the kisses of his kinsfolk still warm on his cheek, young Johnnie Paul courageously tried to keep back the lump that seemed bound to rise in his throat, and stepped into the last ship's-boat with Mr. Younger himself. As the oarsmen bent to their task and the boat left the dock farther and farther behind, John waved his hand to the group on the shore. Beside his own household Mr. Craik's family were gathered there to see him off, also every man, woman, and child in the village. He knew them all. Every one was sorry to see him go, and all wished the lad they loved God-speed. John had not fancied his eyes would blur this way when the final parting should come. He had never been away from home before in all his twelve years of life. It is no wonder that for a short time he had an impulse to ask Mr. Younger to turn about and leave him behind. But fortunately for the country in which American children live, this Scotch lad steeled himself into seeing his bargain through, be it for better or for worse. So he maintained a steadfast silence, gazed straight ahead at the scurrying sailors aboard the big ship, which was now quite close, and, quickly absorbed in their movements, soon recovered his enthusiasm for the project upon which he had entered. Landlubber though they might call him, he determined to show these tars that he was no stranger to the ways, whims and tricks of water even if he were unused to handling a big vessel. Two hours later the high cliffs marking the site of Arbigland were all that young John could see of the little fishing-village. They were well out in the Solway, plowing their way toward Whitehaven, on the adjoining English coast. The sea was still quite rough--rough enough to have made any lad unused to the rolling motion of a boat prodigiously seasick. Not so Johnnie Paul. To the disappointment of a number of the old salts who expected to have sport with him in this way, John went about his new duties as serenely as if he had been on land. Therefore they found no opportunity to offer him the remedy they were wont to hand out to the usual run of shipmaster's apprentices-- "Just a wee drap o' saut water, And if a piece o' fat pork, after, Tied in a string ye tak' an' swallow, Ye'll find that muckle change will follow." Nor did he have to listen to the suggestion, always gravely given, that the sufferer should make his will, which did not seem amiss, so awful are the pangs of that first hour when the novice is afraid he _will_ die--and the second, when he is afraid he will _not_! All in all, the Scotch lad stood that first short voyage to Whitehaven in fine shape. So bravely had he faced the jibes and rough play of the sailors coming across the Solway, so well had he performed his duties, that Mr. Younger's interest in him expanded. When they reached port he had the boy take quarters with him at his own splendid home, where Mrs. Younger treated him with as much consideration as if he were her own son. Here John stayed for almost two weeks, while the new vessel on which he was to sail was taking on her finishing touches and being fully provisioned. In the meantime he was not idle, running errands for his host and hostess, working in their garden, and making himself generally useful. Spare moments he put in thumbing his way through various volumes in the splendid library of Mr. Younger. Indeed, so assiduously did he apply himself to reading several books on naval history that, the day he left, the ship-owner presented him with two such works, much to John's gratification. With his own meager savings he purchased an oilcloth wrapper for these treasures and stored them carefully away aboard the _Friendship_, the new vessel. Mr. Younger's line of ships were engaged largely in the American trade; so when John learned that the _Friendship_ was going to make her maiden voyage to Virginia, the very State in which his brother Willie was located, his joy knew no bounds. Just before he stepped aboard for the last time he mailed a letter to his mother, telling her of the happy tidings, and as the big ship worked out into the Irish Sea, with her bow pointed for the New Country across the Atlantic, he looked forward to the trip with a rare eagerness. His ship was commanded by Captain Benson. This skipper was a stern disciplinarian, none too well liked by the crew. Yet he was kind to the young apprentice, who found him just in every particular, and admired his high-spirited nature, so much like his own. The lad learned fast. With the sailors he was always a favorite. Before the vessel reached American waters he could climb a mast or yardarm with the most nimble of them, and was as fearless as the captain himself when the waves were running high. At last the green shores of America were sighted one morning by the lookout at the masthead. Near sunset the _Friendship_ dropped anchor in the quiet waters of the Rappahannock River, not far from the plantation where Willie Paul lived with William Jones, the cousin who had adopted him years ago. Johnnie's heart beat like a trip-hammer as he made his way, after some inquiries, up the winding drive which led toward a big white house. All around stretched acres of fertile fields, now heavy with ripening grain and tobacco. At the rear of the great house were numbers of smaller buildings, about some of which he could see negro children playing. Surely _all_ of this could not belong to the Jones estate! Why it was bigger than the wonderful premises of the Craiks!--even bigger than all of the fishing-village of Arbigland itself! The Scotch boy faltered. He stopped. He must have made a mistake. Once more he swept his eyes around at the huge fields, from one quarter of which came faintly rolling toward him the sounds of a rollicking negro chorus. Just then a tall figure--that of a young man--appeared on the portico of the great house. This person gazed intently toward the lad, then proceeded in his direction. As the young man came closer, John saw that he was a splendid-looking fellow. While slender he had a broad chest and square shoulders, and a heavy mass of wavy auburn hair crowned his bare head, behind which it was gathered in the manner of the period. Finer breeches, waistcoat, stockings, gaiters, and shoes, the boy had never seen. The young man's blue eyes looked down into John's pleasantly and inquiringly. "Well, my lad," said he in perfect English, "can I serve you in any manner?" "Sir," replied John awkwardly, "I fear I ha' been trespassing a wee bit. I ha' just come this day in a gude vessel, the _Friendship_, all the way from Whitehaven, England, and I am bent on seeing my brither who has lived some'r' in these parts this many a year." "Your speech shows you to be Scotch. What is this brother's name?" asked the planter quickly. "Willie Paul it was, but now it be Willie Jones because----" "Willie Jones! And you are...?" "Johnnie Paul, sir." "Johnnie," said the young man, seizing him by the shoulders and squaring him around, as he peered earnestly down at the boy, "look fairly into my face. Tell me--is there anything you see there which reminds you of anybody you know?" "On'y two things, sir. Ye ha'--asking pardon--the big ears o' my faither an' the twinklin' blue eyes o' my mither." The young man smiled. Those blue eyes twinkled more than ever. "Johnnie Paul," cried he, "you are very observing; but apparently not enough so to recognize me as your brother!" The next moment his big arms had swept around the little sailor, and Johnnie had never known such a happy moment. He was overjoyed to meet finally this brother he had never seen before. Together the happy pair went up the path and into the great house where the lad from far-away shores was made the welcome guest of the plantation owner and foster-father of Willie, William Jones himself. Just two weeks the _Friendship_ lay in the river discharging her consignment of farm implements, so much needed by the new settlers, for a cargo of tobacco and cotton to be taken back to England. Young John's services were not required aboard ship during this time, and it gave him a fine chance to visit with his brother and gain some knowledge of plantation life. He found that William Paul Jones had married since the family in Scotland had heard from him last, and that he was now overseer of his foster-father's estate, with a splendid future apparently awaiting him. The premises boasted of some of the finest horses in the country. It was John's delight to mount one of these mettlesome animals and with his brother or Mr. Jones go cantering down the shady Virginia roads in the neighborhood, or, at slower pace, cover the grounds of the big plantation. Of an evening they would call on neighbors, else neighbors would partake of the hospitality of the Jones's. The boy took an immediate liking to the generous, outspoken class of people he met. The American boys especially pleased him. In their active, fearless play, and love for adventure, they seemed a part of his own bold and hardy Scotch spirit. Many a wrestling bout did he indulge in with the best of them, and while he was sometimes thrown he had the satisfaction of knowing that it never was by a chap younger than himself. Mr. Jones took a strong fancy to the little Scotchman. Since Willie had been adopted he had come to regard the elder brother with the strongest of paternal affection, but now that he had grown up and married, the foster-father found himself yearning once more for young companionship. Just before Johnnie left, this kind-hearted planter offered to adopt him also. But the lad's real love was for the sea. Much as he liked this interesting, free life in Virginia, he did not feel that he could give up his precious ships for it. So off he sailed for Whitehaven. III THE YOUNG SAILOR Life before the mast in 1759 was a hard routine, not calculated to make a "sissy" or a mollycoddle out of any boy. Colleges and training-schools for turning out ship's officers there were none; every single man who attained such executive positions did so at the long and laborious expense of time and actual service in positions lower down the ladder. Johnnie Paul knew all the hard work that lay before him, before he had been aboard the _Friendship_ a fortnight, for there were many old veterans of the crew--failures themselves in the way of promotion--who were only too glad to try to discourage the lad because they felt irritated at their own lack of progress. One of the most persistent of these was a black-browed, bewhiskered fellow named Tom Whiddon. Whiddon was a jealous-minded sailor, given to sulky spells, and he seemed to take pleasure in telling John at every opportunity that the life of a sailor was a dog's life at the best, and that only men of money having a "pull" with the owners could ever hope to get an officer's berth. The Scotch lad listened to Tom Whiddon's growling complaints with growing impatience, although politely enough at first. As the seaman continued to harass him he asked him to desist, but this only caused a coarse laugh from Whiddon and some of his associates who were disgruntled at Captain Benson's apparent liking for the young apprentice. Finally came a day when the good ship lay becalmed. At such times a crew usually has difficulty to while away the hours. Between the times when they are "whistling for a wind" there is little to do except to talk, tell yarns, do stunts, and play practical jokes on one another. John had already found out to his sorrow, by reason of several other becalmings on the trip from Whitehaven to America, that when there is a boy aboard, that boy is likely to be the chief butt of such practical jokes. As then it was so now. But as then he also now good-naturedly laughed with them at the pranks they played at his expense. It was only when Tom Whiddon, with a malicious grin on his face, publicly called him the "cap'n's baby" that Johnnie's quick Scotch temper got the best of him. Like a flash he stood before the black-browed Whiddon, a belaying-pin in one hand, his hazel eyes snapping fire, his cheeks burning at the injustice of the remark. "Say that again, Tom Whiddon, an' I'll knock ye flat on this deck!" cried Johnnie. There was a tenseness in his tones, an earnestness in his demeanor that should have warned Whiddon. But the big bully saw only his own gigantic proportions as compared with the small bundle of quivering flesh confronting him. Stung by the lad's threat and the amused looks his comrades cast in his direction, Whiddon blurted out: "Hi say it ag'in--'cap'n's baby'! an' hif you don't----" The sailor was about to say, "Hif you don't drop that belayin'-pin Hi'll trounce you good an' proper, ye little snapper," when the boy's arm whipped forward, the belaying-pin landed on Whiddon's thick skull and he measured his length on the deck. The crew had not looked for such summary action on the part of the master's-boy no more than had the burly Whiddon himself. It had seemed ridiculous to think such a small boy would go to such extremes in upholding his honor and dignity. Now, as they gazed down aghast at their fallen comrade, who moved not a muscle, they were almost as stunned as he. When they awoke, one or two of them sprang forward and seized the boy, but a half-dozen others, including the first and second mates, pulled them away. "Leave the lad alone!" they demanded. "Whiddon got no more than he deserved." This seemed to be the consensus of opinion. The fellow was deservedly unpopular. Not a hand was lifted for his relief until young John Paul himself got some water, sprinkled it in his face, and brought him to. This tenderness of heart was characteristic of the lad in later years. It is said that when he became skipper of his own vessel, on more than one occasion his hot temper caused him to cuff or kick one of his officers for a breach of discipline, while his sympathetic nature immediately afterward prompted him to invite the culprit to mess with him in his cabin. Merchant ships then plying for trade were not fitted out with the refinements of a modern hotel, as might be said of many of them nowadays; after a few days out even the captain's table could not boast fresh provisions, and long voyages almost inevitably ended with scurvy among the crew, due to lack of green vegetables and an overdose of brine. Though the _menu_ lacked variety, the same could not be said of the names of the dishes which were not only picturesque but in some cases actually descriptive. For instance, there was "Salt Junk and Pork," "Lobscouse," "Plum-duff," "Dog's Body," "Sea Pies," "Rice Tail," "Hurryhush," "Pea Coffee," and "Bellywash." With our steam and wireless to-day it is hard to realize the complete isolation which was formerly the seaman's lot. Empires might rise and fall, and Jack be none the wiser until he touched at port, or spoke some swifter craft within hail of the skipper's brazen-throated speaking-trumpet. Often becalmed for days at a time, in the manner previously referred to, with nothing to break the sameness of glassy water and nebulous horizon, the most trifling incident furnished food for conversation and attention. Even when the ship was under headway, the incessant moaning and whistling of wind through the rigging, the dull flapping of canvas at every shift of the breeze, itself bore a sense of monotony which made the crew long for the sight of a friendly sail or a bit of land. Once in port, the captain, relieved of responsibility, had his own affairs to occupy him ashore, as did most of his officers. His crew, divided between land and craft alternately, were entertained aboard by scores of natives with baskets of gewgaws to sell, and very often guzzled rum ashore until they could scarcely zig-zag their way back to the yawl. Despite its temptations, life at sea had a broadening influence for the average young man of the time. He returned very much more the man of the world, with harder muscles, and was far better able to take care of himself than his stay-at-home brother. On his voyages he gathered a store of extensive and varied information relating to the races and the geography of the world, that he could never get out of books. True, his associations and experiences made him a rough, blunt-spoken fellow as a rule; but on the whole they made his heart more sympathetic for those in trouble, more understanding of the big things in life. Johnnie Paul was now an attractive lad, high-spirited, quick to anger at injustice, open and honorable,--traits he seemed to have taken from the Highland blood of his mother. To his father, the Lowlander, he probably owed his restraining sense of strategy and caution. But for the latter inheritance of character it is likely his bold spirit would often have gotten him into trouble, and he could never have won the fights which he did later on. While John's rough life, in association with common seamen from the time that he was twelve years old, and his lack of previous education, made difficult his becoming what he ardently wished to be--a cultivated gentleman--he applied himself diligently to that end. During the long years on the deep which followed, by hard study the boy educated himself to a considerable degree, not only in seamanship and navigation, but also in naval history and in the French and Spanish languages. On a voyage his habit was to seek out a quiet spot, with his books, at every lull in his tasks. On shore, instead of carousing with his associates, he was given to hunting out the most distinguished or best-informed person he could find; by chatting with him, he added to his rapidly increasing fund of knowledge. His handwriting was always the painful scrawl of a schoolboy, probably because being far more adept with his tongue than with his spelling, he preferred to dictate most of his letters, that their recipients should not suspect his limited schooling, a matter about which he was always very sensitive. For four years following his maiden voyage, John Paul was a member of the crew of the _Friendship_. His voyages were mainly to and from the West Indies. During this time he managed to call twice upon his brother Willie in Virginia, and each time the people there grew to like him better, and he to appreciate the attractions of the New Country. He also had been to see his folks at Arbigland once or twice, on occasions when his ship was laying-over at Whitehaven, and these were happy occasions for all concerned, as we may suppose. John's rise in the merchant service was rapid. When he was sixteen, a sturdy youth with the nimbleness of a cat and almost the strength of a man, Mr. Younger retired from business, and as a reward to the capability and faithfulness of his charge, the ship-owner returned him the indentures which made him his own master. In addition to this he presented him to the captain of the _King George_ of Whitehaven, a slaver, with recommendation that the lad be given an appointment as first-mate. It must be remembered that at this time the slave-trade was not regarded as anything dishonorable. Numerous vessels were attracted to it as a money-making venture, and openly plied back and forth between the home of the black man and the island of Jamaica. Few sailors, few officers, few of the people at large, thought it wrong to steal lusty young negroes and negresses away from their parents and kinsmen and offer them for sale to the Jamaican slave-dealers and plantation owners. So young John Paul first engaged in the trade without any compunctions of conscience. But it was not for long. At the end of two years he had seen so many broken hearts among the blacks as a result of the forced partings, had been an observer of so much unnecessary suffering because of the cruelty of the rough fellows who handled the human freight, that his heart sickened. In fact, so disgusted was he that he even sold out the sixth interest which he had obtained in the ship, quitted it, and boarded the _John O'Gaunt_, at Kingston, Jamaica, bound as a passenger for Whitehaven. On the trip home the captain, mate, and all but five of the crew of the _John O'Gaunt_ died of yellow fever. Not a man was left, except John Paul, who knew enough about navigation to bring the afflicted ship into port. So the lad took charge. With neatness and dispatch he guided the brig across the dangerous waters of the Atlantic and into her haven. Her pleased owners rewarded him with a share of her cargo, and gratified him even more by making him captain and supercargo of a new ship--the _John_--which was engaged in the West Indian merchant trade. Life on a merchantman is rough enough to-day; it was far rougher at that time. To maintain discipline at sea required a strong hand and a tongue none too gentle. Kind-hearted enough by nature, John had learned his lessons by this time; he knew that indecision and softness had no place in an efficient skipper's makeup before his men, and while good enough to his crew at all times he insisted that they obey his commands with respect and promptness. During the third voyage of the _John_, when fever had greatly reduced the crew and every man on board was more or less fretful and irritable, Mungo Maxwell, a mulatto carpenter, became mutinous to such an extent that the young commander deemed it advisable to have him flogged, not only as fitting punishment, but as a salutary example for the observation of the remainder of the crew. The chastisement duly took place. It was not unusually severe, but it happened that, unknown to the youth, the man was just coming down himself with the scourge. He took to his bed, the fever gripped him, and he never arose again. A few envious enemies of John immediately circulated reports that the mulatto had been struck down and murdered by the young captain. He was arrested by the governor of Tobago, in the vicinity of which the vessel happened to be at the time, and taken before the tribunal of that place. Since the body of the stricken carpenter had been immediately consigned to the deep, following the custom in such deaths, it could not be produced to substantiate John's claims of innocence, but witnesses in his favor were plentiful enough to aid in his acquittal. This incident, in spite of its outcome, worried the lad a great deal. His pride was hurt. In a letter to his mother and sisters, he referred frequently to it with remorse, and in those parts where he told of people still throwing it up to him in a condemning manner, his language was even bitter. Can we blame him? A year later, in 1870, when he was twenty, John learned that William Jones, foster-father of his brother, had died, bequeathing to Willie his entire property of three thousand acres, the buildings, animals, slaves, and a sloop. A clause of the will particularly personal was to the effect that, should the adopted son die without children, the estate, excepting an adequate provision for Willie's wife, was to go to his youngest brother, our John Paul. The next two years the young captain continued to guide the _Two Friends_, of Kingston, Jamaica, of which he had taken command some four years earlier. Numerous voyages were made to the Indian Ocean, and cargoes of woolen and thread goods brought back. Twice trips were made to Baltic ports. Finally, in 1771, John obtained command of the _Betsy_, of London, a ship trading with the West Indies. This venture made it possible for the young man to save a considerable amount of money, a goodly share of which he fondly anticipated sending home to his mother and sisters. Just a year later, in 1772, business having called him in that vicinity, he ran the _Betsy_ into the Rappahannock. He had not seen or heard from Willie for over a year. This would be a splendid opportunity. How surprised his brother would be! At the door he was met by a servant who knew him at first sight. The negro's eyes danced with delight, his mouth spread into a broad grin, showing two rows of glistening white teeth. But the next moment he grew very sober. "Hush, Marse John," he said in the lowest of whispers. "Ah's suah sorry t' tell yo', but Marse Willyum am berry, berry sick." Going in quickly, the young sailor was grief-stricken to find his brother lying at the point of death. IV THE YOUNG PLANTER William Jones was, indeed, too ill to recognize his brother, and died in that condition. John felt the blow keenly, the more so because he could not have a last word with the kinsman he had seen so little of, and had come to regard with such strong affection. In accordance with the provisions of the will, the bulk of the estate was now due to go to Johnnie Paul, provided the latter would accept Jones as a surname. Our young sailor, after some deliberation, decided to make the change, settle down, and become a Virginia planter. But he could not satisfy himself with dropping the name of Paul. This was a family heirloom which he felt he must preserve, especially now since he was the only male member of his immediate family possessing it, his good father having gone some months before. Therefore, he forthwith discarded his Christian name of John--whose commonplaceness he had never liked--and became known as Paul Jones. Under this half-assumed appellation he did the really big things of his career which brought him fame. Under it he shouldered responsibilities of which any true-hearted, loyal American citizen might well be proud, although he was only the son of a poor Scotch gardener, a young man without education, without a country he could really claim as his own. Paul Jones--as we shall now have to call him--found that he had inherited "3000 acres of prime land, bordering for twelve furlongs on the right bank of the Rappahannock, running back southward three miles, 1000 acres of which are cleared and under plough or grass, 2000 acres of which are strong first-growth timber; a grist-mill with flour-cloth and fans turned by water power; mansion, overseer's house, negro quarters, stables, tobacco houses, threshing-floor, river-wharf, one sloop of twenty tons, thirty negroes of all ages (eighteen adults), twenty horses and colts, eighty neat cattle and calves, sundry sheep and swine; and all necessary means of tilling the soil." With the property came also old Duncan Macbean. This canny, tough old Scotsman Willie Jones had saved from the tomahawks of the Indians at the time of Braddock's rout. He had brought him home, nursed him until well of his wounds, and then made him overseer of the plantation. In this capacity Duncan had amply proved his efficiency. He had become greatly attached to the place, and in his will the master had requested that he be continued as overseer as long as he was physically and mentally capable. Paul Jones sent the _Betsy_ back to London under the command of his first-mate, with word to her owners that, for the present at least, he was relinquishing the attractions of the sea. He then settled down in earnest to the new life that had opened up before him. As in everything he undertook, he waded into the duties confronting him with an interest keen and thorough. He was not afraid to ask questions of those whose experience warranted them knowing more than he about his new task, no matter how humble or high their stations. In this way he learned the tricks of the planter with surprising rapidity. It was not long before he saw the advisability of rotating his tobacco crops with sowings of maize, that the fertility of his fields might not be exhausted, and a number of neighboring planters who had never thought of such a thing before, followed suit. There was not a horse on the plantation, nor in the county which could unseat him. So much was he liked by his slaves that they anticipated his every wish, it seemed. In the early day, before the sun had become intolerable, he rode over his broad acres at a leisurely pace, noting the crops, the black workers, the pickaninnies at play,--everything. Apparently nothing tending toward a betterment of the condition of his help and the acres they tilled seemed to escape him. A gentle bit of censure here, a pat on a woolly head there, a trinket in a child's outstretched dusky hand, and he would turn his horse's head in another direction. The surrounding forests contained game in profusion; and the low sandy marshes around Urbana abounded in great flocks of snipe and other water-fowl. With old Duncan Macbean the young master often shouldered the fine Lancaster rifle left by his brother, stuck a brace of pistols in his belt, and spent a day in the wilds. No better shot than the old Scotsman could be found in the whole country. Although an old Indian wound had left him lame, this in no wise interfered with his wonderful skill with either pistol or rifle. He could shoot from either hand or either shoulder, from almost any position, and put a ball through a wild turkey's head at a hundred yards. Paul Jones could scarcely credit the evidence of his eyes when he first saw old Duncan shoot, for he had never seen such accuracy before. An intense desire came over him to master firearms with equal skill. He imparted this wish to his overseer, and the consequence was that in the course of the next two years the old veteran taught him to handle the pistol and rifle with a deadliness which became the talk of the countryside. However, the ability to shoot was really more a matter of necessity than an accomplishment in those days. Scattering bands of the Rappahannock Indians often stole down stream to the holdings of the Scotch-Irish planters along the tidewater shores, and when opportunity offered, ran off portions of their live stock, or even sent a wicked arrow through an unwary white man. In her scrolled coach, creaking and swaying on its great hinges and leather straps, milady never took her airings down the rough sandy roads without a guarding retinue of armed slaves and whites. Nor did men themselves venture forth in the fastnesses without their fingers playing about hammer and trigger, ever ready to throw up the former at the slightest suspicious sight or sound, ready to pull the latter when they became convinced that such a procedure was warranted. Young Paul Jones enjoyed his new life to the utmost. The constant peril from the redskins, the exciting brushes which he and old Duncan Macbean had with some of them on different occasions, the thrilling hunts in the forest, all went to satisfy his active, adventure-loving nature. On the other hand, he had plenty of spare time in which to gratify his ambitions for study, for becoming a man of power in his own section as well as in the affairs of the new nation. He continued to study from books, perfected his knowledge of the French and Spanish languages, and even traveled over the Colonies quite extensively. He entertained lavishly at home. His gallantry and courtesy made him very popular. In his trips away from home he met many prominent statesmen of the time, and renewed friendships with others whom he had previously met. Among the latter was Joseph Hewes, with whom he was unusually intimate. Other noted men of his acquaintance were Thomas Jefferson, Philip Livingston, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, the Lees, and Robert and Gouverneur Morris. For some time the Colonists had been growing more and more restless under the burdensome taxes and conditions imposed upon them by England, the mother-country. The governors she appointed seemed to deal with the people unjustly, even cruelly at times. Protests did no good. If one official was removed a worse one was put in his place. So life in the new land, instead of flourishing, became a burden. Bitterness began to creep into the voices of the Colonists when they talked of Great Britain. The man who thought conditions all right was frowned upon by the majority and called a "Tory." He was told either to keep his silence, or go back across the seas. The majority--the "Whigs"--did not want such men howling for the king on the virgin ground which they had come hundreds of miles to settle and keep free from the fetters of aristocratic rulers and their smothering taxes. In 1774, Paul Jones, then twenty-seven years of age, returning from Edmonton, stopped over in Norfolk to visit some friends. Several British ships lay at anchor in the harbor. The Colonists forgot their grievances under the impulse of their natural hospitality. Wishing to show kindness to the king's sailors rather than loyalty to his empire, the Americans entertained the officers at an elaborate ball. As customary at such functions wine was furnished. Instead of partaking of this sparingly, most of the young English officers drank freely, and became very insolent and abusive. Stepping up to one of the most talkative of them--Lieutenant Parker, by name--Paul Jones demanded: "Did I not overhear you say, sir, that in the case of a revolt in this country England will easily suppress it?" "Thash jus' what I said," replied Lieutenant Parker thickly. "Mean it too, m'lad. But I might add that if the courage of your men ish no finer'n the virtue of your women, you'll be licked before the fight's one day old." In an instant the fist of the young planter, as hard as an oak knot beneath its laced cuff, swung out from his broad shoulder. The British officer went down like a log. At once there was an aggressive movement on the part of his comrades; but the Americans, now thoroughly aroused to the defense of their ideals, flocked around Paul Jones in such numbers that the king's men fell back, picked up their helpless companion, and hurried aboard their ships. Expecting that, after the custom of the day, Lieutenant Parker might challenge him to a duel, Paul Jones at once proceeded to make arrangements with a friend, Mr. Granville Hurst, to represent him in the event of any negotiations. "Propose pistols at ten paces," said the young planter. "Advise the gentleman I will meet him at Craney Island, at such time as he may desire." But this meeting never took place, for the very good reason that Lieutenant Parker heard about Paul Jones's unerring use of a pistol; his sloop departed at ebb tide for Charlestown, and, so far as he was concerned personally, the incident seemed closed. The Colonists, however, did not forget it in a hurry. Like wildfire the news of the encounter spread. Colonial newspapers all gave considerable space to it. Suddenly Paul Jones found himself the most-talked-of man in Virginia. He was the hero of men, women, and children. Unofficially he had struck the first blow of the threatening conflict with England. V THE BIRTH OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY The following spring--that of 1775--Paul Jones decided to board his sloop and make a little pleasure trip by sea to Boston. With his crew and two favorite slaves, Cato and Scipio, he sailed down the river, worked out into the Atlantic, and keeping close to the New Jersey headlands, pointed north. When he reached New York he dropped anchor, intending to meet some of his friends in that city. One of the very first of these he encountered was William Livingston. This patriot's face showed plenty of excitement. "Paul, have you heard the news?" he asked. "I have not been favored," replied Paul Jones. "I trust it is nothing serious concerning your own family." "I fear it _is_ serious; but it concerns my family no more than it concerns any other family in the Colonies," was William Livingston's answer. "Paul, my friend, the British have beaten us at Lexington!" Paul Jones was gravely concerned. He plied his friend with many questions. After a long discussion they parted. The young planter immediately gave up his plans for visiting Boston; he wished to go home and in the seclusion of the plantation calmly think over the matter and decide what to do. Within twenty-four hours after his arrival he sent to Thomas Jefferson the following letter: "It is, I think, to be taken for granted that there can be no more temporizing. I am too recently from the mother country, and my knowledge of the temper of the king, his ministers, and their majority in the House of Commons, is too fresh to allow me to believe that anything is, or possibly can be in store except either war to the knife or total submission to complete slavery. "... I cannot conceive of submission to complete slavery; therefore only war is in sight. The Congress, therefore, must soon meet again, and when it meets it must face the necessity of taking those measures which it did not take last fall in its first session, namely, provision for armament by land and sea. "Such being clearly the position of affairs, I beg you to keep my name in your memory when the Congress shall assemble again, and in any provision that may be taken for a naval force, to call upon me in any capacity which your knowledge of my seafaring experience and your opinions of my qualifications may dictate." One morning, a short time after this, Paul Jones received word that two French frigates had come to anchor in Hampton Roads. With the hospitality of the true sailor and true Virginia planter he loaded his sloop with the best green vegetables the plantation afforded, and started down the Rappahannock to welcome the newcomers. The two frigates were in command of Captain De Kersaint, one of the ablest officers in the French navy, who afterwards became an admiral. The second in command was no less than the Duc De Chartres, eldest son of the Duc D'Orléans, who had sent De Chartres to America on a "cruise of instruction," to fit him for the hereditary post of Lord High Admiral of France. He was Paul Jones's own age exactly, and with his charming wife, the Duchesse De Chartres, he received the young planter with a great cordiality. Their liking for Paul Jones increased as they chatted. In fact, the Duke himself took such a violent fancy to their guest that when the latter asked if he might be shown plans of the construction of their splendid frigate. _La Terpischore_, with a view to offering suggestions to the Colonists in building war craft, the French nobleman readily assented. With royal prerogative he ordered his ship's carpenter to make deck and sail drawings, hull details,--everything that could in any way aid the young Scotchman in understanding the essential constructive features of the vessel. It was of inestimable advantage to Paul Jones to have had the opportunity of inspecting at such close range, much less get drawings of, one of the best and most modern ships of the French navy. It is not strange that the American frigate _Alliance_, built some time later, followed closely the same general lines as _La Terpischore_; that she mounted the same battery--twenty-eight long 12-pounders on the gun deck, and ten long 9-pounders above. Was this merely a coincidence? Or, on the other hand, did the young Scotchman have a hand in the matter? At a meeting of the Continental Congress on May 10, 1775, the Naval Committee invited Paul Jones to lay before it such information and advice as might seem to him useful in assisting the committee in discharging its labors. Paul Jones felt strongly on the subject of establishing a navy, and thought that the only way to start was to offer prizes to the crews of privateersmen. In a letter to Joseph Hewes he observed: "If our enemies, with the best established and most formidable navy in the universe, have found it expedient to assign all prizes to the captors, how much more is such policy essential to our infant fleet? But I need no argument to convince you of the necessity of making the emoluments of our navy equal, if not superior, to theirs." In this appeal to Congress there was good common-sense. Paul Jones was not actuated by a love of gain; he was in the struggle because he thought it a righteous cause. Yet he knew that while he had the profits of his plantation for the past two or three seasons--some 4000 pounds--to fall back upon when his Government allowances should fail to meet expenses, the average Colonist did not. The wives and children of the latter must be fed and clothed while he was away fighting. Unless he could be promised ample revenue from prizes, Paul Jones knew that Jack would fight half-heartedly and in the dumps, even though he loved his country in every fiber of his being. His pitifully inadequate Government allowance of eight dollars a month was surely no attraction. On November 15, 1776, Congress improved this situation somewhat, but did not meet Paul Jones's wishes in the matter, by resolving "that a bounty of twenty dollars be paid to the commanders, officers, and men, of such Continental ships or vessels of war as shall make a prize of any British ships or vessels of war, for every cannon on board such a prize at the time of such capture; and eight dollars per head for every man then on board and belonging to such prize." In addition to this General Washington approved the following distribution of the prize: "That the captain or commander should receive six shares; the first-lieutenant, five, the second-lieutenant and the surgeon, four; the master, three; steward, two; mate, gunner, gunner's-mate, boatswain, and sergeant, one and one-half shares; the private, one share." Nothing was said about the poor cook. Undoubtedly he ranked with the ordinary seaman when the time of distribution came. To all intents and purposes an American, the truth remains that Paul Jones was a Scotchman. His enthusiastic soul was wholly for the cause of liberty in his new country, but the men who envied him and wanted the offices for which his high capabilities fitted him so signally never let him and others forget that he was an alien. This was, of course, quite absurd; for what were they themselves? What had they been until a few months ago? The fact is, Paul Jones had served under three masters, until he was a far more competent officer than many of those in the established navies of Europe, where influence and patronage often made officers of men of long lineage and short experience. Thus in the _Journal of Congress_, dated December 22, 1775, the name of Paul Jones heads the list of first-lieutenants, instead of the list of captains as it should. His friend Joseph Hewes, who championed the candidates from the southern colonies, had done his best to make the young planter a captain, but had failed at the antagonism of John Adams, who represented the candidates from the northern colonies, which demanded full control of naval affairs. When affairs had at last been worked down to a point of action by sea, the nucleus of the first navy of the new country consisted of the _Alfred_, the _Columbus_, the _Andrew Doria_, the _Providence_, and the _Cabot_. Five little ships to face the finely-appointed scores of frigates and sloops-of-war in the service of the king! VI RAISING THE FIRST AMERICAN FLAG That winter of 1776 was a cold one. Snow had lain heavy in the streets of Philadelphia since frigid blasts had brought the first downfall in December. In January, the Delaware River, like every other stream in the country, was locked in the grip of ice, ice a foot or more in thickness. It was only by the constant plying up and down stream of a couple of sturdy whaling-ships, equipped with steel-jacketed bows, that an open channel could be maintained in the Delaware for the passage of ordinary wooden-hulled craft. Along the waterfront of the city innumerable masts and spars made a somber network against the dull blue of the winter sky. On board some of the larger of the vessels, despite the cold, men were at work repairing and overhauling. Well down the glittering sea of ice a group of five ships swung at anchor in the channel. Their decks, too, were a scene of action. All of this was taken in with a few swift glances by a quick-stepping, stalwart young man who came down to the wharf and paused to look about him. He was a comely-looking fellow, with broad shoulders, and a face as bronzed as a South Sea Islander's. It was the young Scotchman and planter, Paul Jones. But his immaculate linen had been discarded. In its place he appeared in the trim uniform of a Continental marine lieutenant--blue coat with red-bound button-holes, round-cuffed blue breeches, and black gaiters. As he looked about for a boat to take him out to the five ships riding at anchor, Paul Jones's eye fell on a tall, lithe young man who was just in the act of tying the painter of a whaler's yawl to one of the wharf timbers. Paul Jones stepped briskly up to him. "Pardon me, my fine fellow," he said, "but a guinea is yours if you will row me out to the larger of yon vessels, the _Alfred_, where I am in urgent service." The young man wheeled around, displaying features unmistakably those of an Indian, but of an unusually intelligent composition. His coal-black eyes swept over his questioner. "I, Wannashego, will take the white sea-soldier," he replied in excellent English. Without further ado, Paul Jones sprang nimbly down into the boat. Its owner cast loose and followed. As his companion pulled lustily away in the direction of the American ships, Paul Jones sat studying the rower. When and where had this redskin of the American forest picked up such splendid address? What marvelous trick of fate had possessed him of such skill with the white man's oars? "You are an Indian, are you not?" inquired the lieutenant presently. "An Indian of Narragansett tribe," was the proud reply. "Where did you learn to handle a boat in this manner?" "On whaling cruises, sir." "You belong to one of these whaling-ships at the wharves, then?" "Yes, sir; to _Walrus_. She lies upstream a bit, sir. Three years I have been with her." "How is it you came to leave your people, Wannashego?" asked Paul Jones curiously. "My father, Tassa-menna-tayka, a chief who loves the white people, he sent me from near Martha's Vineyard to learn your ways and be like you," declared the young Indian. There was a short pause; he turned his head for a moment to take his bearings, and then continued: "Sir, I ask if yonder ships are to fight the great country across the sea?" "They are, Wannashego." "You goin' to fight on 'em?" "I expect to." "I like to fight on 'em, too," was the sententious rejoinder of the young redskin. "Do you mean that?" asked Paul Jones sharply. "If you do, Wannashego, I think I can get Captain Saltonstall, of my ship, the _Alfred_, to ship you, as we are short-handed." "Mean it a heap," said the Indian. "I shoot good. Make two bangs--get two Red-coats." Paul Jones laughed. "I hope so. Well, Wannashego, I'll see what I can do for you." Shortly the boat's nose touched the accommodation-ladder over the _Alfred's_ side. The young lieutenant held out the promised guinea to Wannashego, but the Indian straightened up proudly. "I don't want money," said he. "I like America country heap much. You fight for him, so I help you beat our enemies, the Red-coats." It was a crude expression of sentiment, but Paul Jones interpreted it correctly, and was deeply affected by it. "Wannashego," he cried, "return to your captain. If he will release you, and you still want to fight the Red-coat soldiers of the sea, come to me on this ship to-morrow and I will stir heaven and earth to make you a member of our crew." Captain Saltonstall was to command the ship, but he had not yet arrived. So, for the present at least, upon Paul Jones rested the duty of preparing her for sea. Under his leadership, arrangements went on speedily and smoothly. The _Alfred_ bid fair to be in readiness before some of her sister ships, it seemed. Next morning, before the sun was an hour high, a yawl containing two men was seen approaching. At first the lieutenant thought it might be Captain Saltonstall himself, but his glass soon showed him his mistake. It was the young Narragansett Indian, Wannashego, who evidently had secured one of the sailors of his old ship to row him out to the _Alfred_. Paul Jones made him welcome, telling him that he was quite sure the captain would make no objection when he should appear. Thus Wannashego, the first and one of the very few full-blooded Indians to fight in the first navy of this country, became a tentative member of the _Alfred's_ crew. He took hold of his duties happily and energetically, outdoing many of his white companions. As for the temporary commander, from the time the foot of Paul Jones touched the deck of the vessel his active spirit pervaded everything, and the officers under him, as well as the men, felt the force of his executive power. Besides working all day, he and the other officers stood watch and watch on deck throughout the wintry nights, to prevent desertions; and although every other vessel in the squadron lost men in this manner, not a single deserter got away from the _Alfred_. "An' I'll bet a herrin' ag'in a p'tater, mates," remarked Bill Putters, quartermaster, in the confidence of the forecastle, "that this Leftenant Jones is a real seaman wot could handle this yere ol' gal better'n Cap'n Saltonstall. I kin tell it by the cut o' his jib, the way he squares away to tackle any job he undertakes." "Bet so, too, Bill," supported the bos'n, Tom Wilkerson; "an' I'll go you a cooky he's a fighter. He speaks to most of us so soft you might think his voice was a tune from a fiddle; but, by Johnny! when Pete Walker didn't do what he told him to, yes'dy, he thundered at him in a way that made poor Pete's head rattle with the jar, an' Pete perty nigh dislocated his spinal collum jumpin' to do what he wanted him to. _I'd_ like to see the leftenant in full charge. If we ever met up with any o' them pets of the king you bet there would be some fur flyin'--an' it wouldn't be ours as much as theirs, neether!" One day, in the midst of the bustle of fitting out the ship, Commodore Hopkins, who was to command the little squadron, came on board the _Alfred_. He was formally received at the gangway by Paul Jones and shown over the ship by him. The commodore was a big, heavy-set man who had spent the best part of his life at sea. He examined the vessel carefully, but made no favorable comments, and the young lieutenant began to fear his work had displeased the senior officer. But it turned out otherwise. A little later, standing on the quarter-deck, surrounded by the officers, Commodore Hopkins turned to Paul Jones and said: "Your work pleases me extremely, and my confidence in you, sir, is such that if Captain Saltonstall should not appear by the time these ships are due to sail, I shall hoist my flag on this ship and give you command of her." A flush of gratification arose in Paul Jones's dark face. He bowed with the graceful courtesy that always distinguished him. "Thank you, commodore," said he, "and may I be pardoned for expressing the hope that Captain Saltonstall may not arrive in time! And when your flag is hoisted on the _Alfred_, I trust there will be ready a flag of the United Colonies to fly at the peak-halyards. I aspire to be the first man to raise that flag upon the ocean!" Commodore Hopkins smiled. "If the Congress is as slow as I expect it will be, some time will elapse before it will have adopted a flag; and there will not be time to have one made, much less, before we sail." In this he was mistaken. The Congress had practically decided upon the flag, and quite certain of its selection, Paul Jones from his own pocket had already purchased the materials to make it. Bill Putters was an old sail-maker, therefore handy with a needle, which it was his boast he "could steer like a reg'lar tailor-man." To him the young lieutenant entrusted the making of the first official flag of America they had seen--a task which swelled old Bill up with a wonderful pride, as well it might. One stormy February day, when the channel had been freed from ice enough for the little squadron to get out, the _Alfred_ was ready to lend her spotless decks to the formality of the flag-raising. Captain Saltonstall had arrived some days before. This disappointed Paul Jones. But he was as ready to do his duty as first-lieutenant, as in the hoped-for higher office. The commodore's boat was seen approaching on the chill waters of the river. The horizon was overcast. Dun clouds, driven by a strong wind, scurried across the troubled sky. The boatswain's call, "All hands to muster!" sounded through the ship. In a wonderfully short time, owing to the careful drilling of Paul Jones, the three hundred sailors and one hundred marines were drawn up on deck. The sailors, a fine-looking body of American seamen, were formed in ranks on the port side of the quarter-deck, while abaft of them stood the marine guard under arms. On the starboard side were the petty officers, and on the quarter-deck proper were the commissioned officers in full uniform, swords at their sides. Paul Jones headed this line. When it was reported, "All hands up and aft!" Captain Saltonstall emerged out of the cabin. At this Paul Jones, having previously arranged it, called out, "Quartermaster!" and Bill Putters, perfectly groomed, stepped from the ranks of the petty officers and saluted. In his hand, carefully rolled up, Bill carried a small bundle. Unrolling this he followed Paul Jones briskly aft to the flagstaff. He affixed the flag to the halyards, along with the broad pennant of a commodore just below, saw that the lines were free, and then stood at attention. Meantime the commodore's boat had reached the ladder, and he came over the side. Just as his foot touched the quarter-deck the flag with the pennant, under Paul Jones's energetic hands, was hauled swiftly upward. At the top the breeze caught it in all its fullness, flung it free to the air, and the sun at that moment burst through the clouds which had enveloped it, and bathed the emblem in all its fresh glory. Every officer from the commodore down instantly removed his cap in patriotic reverence. The drummer boys beat a double-ruffle. A tremendous cheer burst from the sailors and marines. This was not the present well-known Stars-and-Stripes, which was evolved later, but the Pine-tree and Rattlesnake Flag with the motto, "Don't Tread On Me!" As an emblem it was not at all artistic; but the men who now saw it flung to the breeze for the first time thought only of the sentiment it expressed, a sentiment still paramount in the heart of every true-blooded American. And among those who so loudly cheered it no man was more enthusiastic than the young Narragansett Indian, Wannashego. Commodore Hopkins advanced toward Lieutenant Paul Jones and said: "I congratulate you, sir, upon your enterprise. This flag was only adopted in Congress yesterday. You are the very first to fly it." Within an hour the _Columbus_, the _Andrew Doria_, the _Cabot_, and the _Providence_, led by the _Alfred_, were making out toward the open sea under full spread of canvas, ready to meet whatsoever of the mighty foe that might appear. VII AN INGLORIOUS CRUISE The first enterprise determined upon was an expedition to the island of New Providence, in the West Indies. As it had been learned that Fort Nassau was well supplied with powder and shot--munitions of war sadly wanting in the Colonies--it was thought a sudden descent might be profitable. The moment the English sighted the little squadron, a warning gun was fired from the fort, and all haste made to remove and conceal as much of the powder as possible. Delayed in getting into the harbor by a sandbar at its mouth, further delayed by poor judgment on the part of Commodore Hopkins, it was some time before the smaller vessels could work their way in far enough to effect a landing of their marines. Then it was only to find a small amount of arms and stores awaiting them. Chagrined at his ill success, the commodore carried off the governor of the island as a hostage. Now all sail was set, and the American squadron made its way cautiously along the New England coast. Although every part of these waters was swarming with British vessels, it was determined to try to gain an entrance into Long Island Sound by way of Narragansett Bay. Paul Jones went about his arduous duties as first-lieutenant of the _Alfred_ with his customary energy and determination. But at heart he cherished a secret dissatisfaction. Coupled with his disappointment at his own low official station was a growing impression that the senior officer of the squadron, Commodore Hopkins himself, was incompetent. In a number of instances during the Providence Island operation, the keen eyes of the first-lieutenant had caught him in blunders. Although the commodore might prove brave enough in an encounter, Paul Jones was sure that he was not above the average in either enterprise or intelligence. At the outset of the expedition the young officer was wild to meet the enemy, regardless of numbers. Now, with a grave doubt gripping his heart, he feared that they might meet Commodore Wallace's British fleet off Newport. But the day passed without adventure. Numerous white sails were seen in the distance, none of which drew any nearer. Commodore Hopkins, being well weighted down with the cannon and supplies captured at New Providence, made no effort to investigate these far-off ships. "It is well to let sleeping dogs lie," he said when Captain Saltonstall proposed going after them. Paul Jones's intrepid heart was sickened at such display of indifference. With his capacity for meeting extraordinary dangers with extraordinary resources of mind and courage, he could only despise the risks that other men shunned. The young Narragansett Indian, who had been appointed boatswain's mate by Captain Saltonstall, was also clearly disgruntled at the commodore's weak attitude. But beyond muttering impatiently under his breath when he heard Commodore Hopkins's remarks about "sleeping dogs," and nudging Paul Jones, with flashing black eyes, Wannashego was discreet enough to say nothing. Intuitively the brave redskin knew that his Scotch friend felt as he did. Toward night they entered the blue waters of Narragansett Bay. A young moon hung trembling in the heavens. The sky was cloudless, and the stars shone brilliantly. Wannashego slipped noiselessly up to where Paul Jones stood on the after-deck. The Indian youth pointed down to the gurgling green swells as they swept aft along the _Alfred's_ hull. "These are the waters of my people, the Narragansetts," he said softly. "They touch the land of my old home and playgrounds." "Wannashego, do you wish to go back to your people?" asked Paul Jones curiously. He shook his black-locked head. "No," he answered--"if I can fight Red-coat sea soldiers soon. But if I have to run away when see 'em, like this, I like to go back an' ketchum whale on whaler-ship ag'in." He ended with an expressive grunt of disgust, and took himself off as silently as he had appeared. Shortly after this--about midnight--the lookout on the _Alfred's_ quarter made out Block Island. It seemed that his call had hardly died away when a cry of "Sail ho!" was heard from the direction of the _Cabot_. With his night-glass to his eye Commodore Hopkins saw, about a half-mile away, the shadowy form of a ship. Captain Saltonstall also took a look at her. Several conjectures were raised as to her identity, and then the glass was handed to the first-lieutenant. "What do you think she is, Mr. Jones?" asked Commodore Hopkins. He had more confidence in Paul Jones than he dared to confess, even to himself. "I should say she was a British frigate, sir," was the lieutenant's prompt reply. "She is too small for a ship-of-the-line, and she does not carry sail enough for a merchantman under this breeze. It would seem to me that she is merely cruising about on the lookout for somebody." "That 'somebody' is probably ourselves," answered the commodore uneasily, "if she's a British frigate as you think. She's likely out on scout duty, and has a squadron of sister ships somewhere nearby." Signal lanterns were raised to the foremasthead, asking the _Cabot_, as the ship nearest the stranger, to engage the attention of the latter. But before the captain of the _Cabot_ could comply it was seen that the distant ship had come about and was making straight for the two American vessels. The decks of the _Alfred_ and _Cabot_ were immediately cleared for action. No drums were beat, or other unnecessary noise made. The men worked swiftly, went silently to their quarters; the batteries were masked and lights placed behind, while ammunition was hurried up from the magazine-room by the powder-monkeys, the youngest members of the crew. The stranger bore down upon them. Presently came a hail from her deck: "Who are you, and whither are you bound?" The _Cabot_ made answer: "This is the _Betsy_, from Plymouth. Who are you?" Every ear was strained to catch the answer. It came ringing over the clear water through the still night air: "His Majesty's ship _Glasgow_, of twenty-four guns!" As the _Alfred's_ battery consisted of the same number of long 9-pounders on the gun deck and six 6-pounders on the quarter-deck it was apparent that, if the stranger had not lied, her strength in guns must be at least a match for the Britisher. In addition to this, the American flag-ship had the support of the little _Cabot_, with her own fourteen guns and crew of two hundred. Commodore Hopkins felt a great relief when he noted this. The American crews thought they would make short work of the enemy. But not so Paul Jones. He had already seen too much incompetence displayed on that cruise to feel anything but serious misgivings. It was now two-thirty in the morning. The moon had gone down. Evidently in the darkness that prevailed the _Glasgow_ was ignorant of the fact that there were other American ships in the little squadron, else she would have approached with greater caution. As it happened they did not come up during the fray which ensued, and took practically no part at all in it. The _Cabot_ had now got very close to the lee bow of the enemy, and suddenly poured a broadside into her. Instantly the British ship seemed to wake up to her danger. She wore around with all haste, and ran off to clear for action. In twenty minutes she bore down again, this time with a grimness of purpose that there was no mistaking. Paul Jones was in command of the gun deck. The _Alfred_ was so heavily laden with war trophies that she was down in the water almost to her portsills; but the sea was calm and her lowness in no wise prevented the free use of both her batteries, which were used with the utmost ferocity. The fighting was kept up until daybreak. The _Glasgow_ was hulled a number of times, her mainmast was deeply scarred, her sails and rigging well riddled with shot. But she had disabled the little _Cabot_ at the second broadside from her big guns, and had then concentrated her attention on the _Alfred_ with such good marksmanship that the wheelblock of the American was carried away and she came helplessly up into the wind in such a position that the enemy poured in several disastrous broadsides before her head could be regained. In this maneuver such poor seamanship was displayed on the part of Commodore Hopkins and Captain Saltonstall that Paul Jones fairly boiled within himself; but he could only hold his peace at the time. Later on, in letters to his friends, he gave full vent to his disgust at the way the American ships were handled; for only one commanding officer--Captain Biddle, of the _Andrew Doria_, who gave futile but heroic chase to the _Glasgow_--did he have particular praise. When, with the coming of morning, the British ship retired, she was suffered to get away by Commodore Hopkins. He seemed to be glad that she had not stayed to do them worse damage. The brave American seamen fumed in the privacy of the fo'c'sl' on that voyage in. Old Bill Putters cursed at every breath whenever he was out of an officer's sight. The Government held two courts-martial following the _Glasgow_ affair. As a result Captain Hazard, of the _Providence_, was dishonorably dismissed from service, and numerous other officers censured, among them Commodore Hopkins. Undoubtedly the latter would have met with dismissal except for powerful political influences brought to bear in his behalf. VIII THE YOUNG CAPTAIN Although there was a subtle estrangement between Commodore Hopkins and Paul Jones, each respected the other's character. At the close of the inglorious expedition which we have dealt with, the senior officer came to the conclusion that it would be far less embarrassing to both concerned were the first-lieutenant of the _Alfred_ placed on some ship other than that occupied by the chief of the squadron himself. Therefore, with more adroitness than he had displayed in meeting the enemy, Commodore Hopkins managed to induce Congress to offer the energetic Scotchman a berth as commander of the _Providence_, in the place of the dismissed Captain Hazard. He also permitted him to take with him a few of his favorite men, among this number Wannashego, the young Indian. The latter's joy knew no bounds at this turn of events. His stoical Indian nature prevented any marked display of his satisfaction, but his demeanor could not wholly hide it from the attention of his Scotch friend. "Now," declared Wannashego, with shining eyes, "I sure we will see some heap big fighting. If I stay on that other ship, _Alfred_, one day longer I sure run away to the whaler-ship or my people. That _Alfred_ no brave-ship; just squaw-ship--'fraid to fight!" Paul Jones smiled in sympathy. He too had felt like a different man since the announcement of the change. Now that he had full and absolute control of an American ship himself, he determined he should show his countrymen and the enemy what he could really do. The _Providence_, his new ship, was a small sloop of fourteen guns and about a hundred men. She was far from a pretentious vessel to look at, but Paul Jones's sharp eyes detected in her certain lines which augured for speed, and when he once got her out into the broad reaches of the Atlantic he found that in this surmise of her sailing abilities he had not been misled. For her size she was a remarkably good sailer. For a time the _Providence_ was kept employed in transporting men and supplies along the shores at the eastern entrance of Long Island Sound, and as this was done in the face of numerous British ships which hovered around like so many hornets, the reputation of the new commanding officer soon began to grow. On August 21 Paul Jones sailed on a six-weeks' cruise--a cruise which historians have termed the first cruise of an American man-of-war. At least it was the first to be noted by an enemy--the first that shed any degree of glory on the flag of the new Republic, whose Declaration of Independence had been signed less than seven weeks previously. It was a venture worthy of the Vikings and their rude boats, for the seas swarmed with English frigates outranking the little vessel in everything except the alertness of her commander and the courage of her crew. From Bermuda to the Banks of Newfoundland he boldly sailed, defying the fastest ships of the enemy to catch him, and striking terror to British merchantmen and fishermen. During the first week of September the _Providence_ sighted a large ship which she mistook for an Indiaman homeward bound. This stranger proved to be the _Solebay_, British frigate of twenty guns. Too late the _Providence_ discovered her error; there was no chance to withdraw in dignity. The _Solebay_ immediately made for the American, who took to her heels, relying upon her good sailing qualities to escape, as she had on many another such occasion. But the Britisher proved she was no mean sailer herself. In fact, she began to overhaul her foe. The day was warm and clear. A strong breeze was blowing from the northeast. The little _Providence_ was legging it briskly over the wind-tossed waters. But the _Solebay_ gained on her every hour. The chase had started about noon. By four o'clock the frigate was almost within gunshot. The heart of everybody except the commander was in the lower regions of his jacket. Paul Jones was serene enough; his confidence seemed not one whit lessened. Presently he displayed the reason for his attitude. "Look," said he to his chief officer, as he handed him a glass; "do you not notice that his broadside guns are still unleashed? He thinks he can take us by firing his bow-chaser. What foolishness! Nothing would be easier than for us to bear away before the wind and run under his broadside." Nearly every ounce of canvas on the _Providence_ had been flung to the breeze. Still the _Solebay_ drew closer. "He should know who we are before we leave him," declared Paul Jones, with a grim smile. He uttered a quick order. The next moment the American colors fluttered out at the masthead. To their surprise the _Solebay_ acknowledged the courtesy by also running up the American emblem. "He cannot deceive us by that," said Paul Jones. "His lines tell me as plain as day he is British. But wait; I shall show him something in a moment!" He called out to the man at the wheel: "Give her a good full, Quartermaster!" "A good full, sir!" came back the instant acknowledgment. Paul Jones then ordered the studding-sails set. The next moment the helm was put about, and before the astonished crew on the _Solebay_ knew what was happening, the American sloop ran directly under his broadside, and went off dead before the wind. The British frigate came about in haste and confusion. But by the time she was under headway again, the American ship was far off, her newly-trimmed studding-sails bellying to the breeze and gaining speed at every leap and bound. Needless to say, the _Solebay_ was now out of the running, a very crestfallen enemy. Such clever maneuvering her commander had never witnessed before. Three weeks later the _Providence_ was saucily threading northern waters. One day, off Cape Sable, Wannashego and several others of the sailors asked permission to try to catch some of the splendid fish which abounded in those cold waters. As they had been on salt provisions for a long while, Paul Jones readily consented, and the ship was hoved to. The men got out their lines, and soon began to haul in some fine specimens of the finny tribe. While they fished, a sharp lookout was kept for danger from the British. It was well this was done, apparently, for presently a sail was made out to windward of them. At once the fishing stopped, the _Providence_ set some of her light sails, and the anchor was hauled in. As the stranger approached, Paul Jones convinced himself that she was no such sailer as the _Solebay_, and making sure a little later that she was a British warship he determined to amuse himself with her. He communicated his plans to his officers, and patiently waited for the frigate, which turned out to be His Majesty's ship, the _Milford_. The young captain made no move until the British craft got almost within range, whereupon he doubled on her quarter and sped away under restrained speed on the new course. Mistaking the rate she was traveling at to be her best, and cheered at the thought of over-taking her, the English captain took up the chase with gusto. For seven or eight hours the pursuit continued, all this time the _Providence_ cunningly keeping just beyond gunshot of her enemy, yet seeming to exert herself to the limit in maintaining her position. Finally getting discouraged at his want of success, the Britisher began firing. Turning to his chief marine officer, Paul Jones said: "Direct one of your men to load his musket, and as often as yonder enemy salutes our flag with her great guns, do you have your man reply with his musket!" A broad grin spread over the marine officer's face. He soon had his man stationed on the quarter-deck, and the next time the frigate rounded to and sent a futile broadside in the direction of the _Providence_, the marine elevated his musket and banged away. Several times this performance, a perfect burlesque in the quaintness of its humor, was indulged in. And each time, as the comparatively mild report of the musket followed the roar of the enemy's big guns, the American sailors laughed uproariously and cheered. "We have had our fun now, my men," said Paul Jones. "This fellow has swallowed our bait gloriously; the time has come for us to stop _fishing_ and go about our business." He thereupon ordered more sail spread, and in a short time the astonished _Milford_--which he would have attempted to capture had she not clearly been a more powerful vessel--was left well behind. Although he did not know it then, the Scotch captain was to meet this foe again within the year. Before he returned, this bold tiger of the sea succeeded in capturing sixteen British vessels. He also made an attack on Canso, Nova Scotia, thereby releasing several American prisoners; burned three vessels belonging to the Cape Breton fishery; and in a descent on the Isle of Madame destroyed several large fishing-smacks. When at last Paul Jones reached his own shores again he left behind him a terrorized enemy who since that cruise have ever called him a buccaneer and pirate. Why England should regard this valiant sea-fighter, who never needlessly shed a drop of blood, or took a penny's-worth of spoils out of the larder of war, in this insulting light, its countrymen have never satisfactorily explained. But we do know that Lord Nelson himself was never a cleaner fighter; that the very brilliancy and extreme daring of Paul Jones's exploits stunned his enemy, and left them in a species of stupefaction. Welcomed home with unusual acclaim, Paul Jones found that during his absence two things had happened which vitally concerned him. One thing was the ravaging of his plantation by the British. His fine buildings now lay in ashes, he was told. His splendid heifers had gone to satisfy the appetites of the raiding soldiers under Lord Dunmore. His slaves, who had become to him "a species of grownup children," had been carried off to die under the pestilential lash of cruel overseers in Jamaican canefields, while the price of their poor bodies swelled the pockets of English slave-dealers. To his great pleasure, however, he learned that his own overseer, canny old Duncan Macbean, had gotten away and joined General Morgan's riflemen, presumably there to wreak vengeance on the Red-coats with John Paul's own trusty rifle. This was indeed a hard blow to the young captain who, in commenting upon it, wrote to Mr. Hewes: "It appears that I have no fortune left but my sword, and no prospect except that of getting alongside the enemy." The second bit of news was the belated notification that, while he was away on his cruise, Congress, on October 10, 1776, had made him a commissioned captain in the United States Navy. It might be expected that such an announcement would be very gratifying to him, but not so. Paul Jones received it with more bitterness of spirit than pleasure, for he was only number eighteen in the list of appointees. This was an injustice which he never forgot, and to which the sensitive fellow referred all through his subsequent life. He thought he ought to have been not lower than sixth in rank, because, by the law of the previous year, there were only five captains ahead of him. In the meantime, too, he had done good service, while the new captains ranking above him were untried. If Paul Jones had a failing it was that of desire for prestige. Rank was to him a passion, not merely because it would enable him to be more effective, but for its own sake. He liked all the signs of display--titles, epaulets, medals, busts, marks of honor of all kinds. "How near to the heart of every military or naval officer is rank, which opens the door to glory!" he wrote. But, mind you, Paul Jones did not have the "swelled head." He never once over-estimated his abilities, inwardly or outwardly; and he desired fame because he knew he was entitled to it. If the reward failed to come after he had qualified for and performed the service, he felt cheated--just as the day-laborer feels cheated when he does his task and is not paid his wage. On November 4, 1776, Paul Jones was placed in command of the _Alfred_, the ship on which he had made his first cruise as a first-lieutenant some nine months earlier. In company with the _Providence_, now under the command of Captain Hacker, he made a cruise of about a month, captured seven merchant ships, several of which carried valuable supplies to the British army, and again cleverly avoided the superior enemy frigates. While making for port they encountered armed transports, the _Mellish_ and the _Bideford_, both of which had been separated from their convoy, the _Milford_, in a terrific gale. Although larger and heavier ships in every way, the Americans attacked and captured them. Shortly afterward the _Milford_, accompanied by a British letter-of-marque, put in an appearance, and gave chase. Once more Paul Jones was too clever for the British frigate. He outsailed and outmaneuvered her, getting away with all his prizes except the smaller of the transports, which had fallen astern. After his return, in early December, from the cruise in the _Alfred_, Paul Jones served on the Board of Advice to the Marine Committee, and was very useful in many ways. He urged strongly the necessity of making a cruise in European waters for the sake of moral persuasion, and offered to lead such an expedition. His energy and dashing character made a strong impression on Lafayette, who was then in the country, and who heartily supported the project. He wrote a letter to General Washington, strongly recommending that Paul Jones be made head of such an expedition. About the same time the young captain had an interview with Washington, in which he appealed against what he considered another injustice. The _Trumbull_--one of the fine new American frigates just completed and built in New Amsterdam in accordance with Paul Jones's own plans--had been placed under the command of Captain Saltonstall, whom the Scotchman considered incompetent. Paul Jones did not get the _Trumbull_ after all; but the interview was not without its effect. A little later the Marine Committee ordered him to enlist seamen for his suggested European cruise. And on June 14, 1777, Congress appointed him to the command of the sloop-of-war _Ranger_, of eighteen guns. IX ABOARD THE "RANGER" When Paul Jones was ordered to Portsmouth to command the new sloop-of-war _Ranger_, Congress allowed him to take with him a few of his favorite petty officers. Of course among this number was Wannashego, the young Narragansett. The bold Scotch captain had formed a strong liking for Wannashego, whom he had found not only an able boatswain's mate and an impetuous fighter, but one most devoted to his own interests. Indeed, the young Indian fairly worshiped the decking his splendid officer trod. They had served together ever since their first meeting, going from the _Alfred_ to the _Providence_, then back to the _Alfred_ again. And now they were once more to be together--this time in a long and probably stirring voyage across the big sea, right into the very home-waters of the enemy himself! No wonder the heart of Wannashego stirred with happy expectation. Another old shipmate to accompany Paul Jones on the new expedition, but one hitherto unmentioned, was Nathaniel Fanning, now a third-lieutenant. From this friend, a very keen observer of our hero at all times, as well as a man of more than ordinary intelligence, we get the following interesting description of Paul Jones: "He was about middle height, so slender as to be wiry, so lithe as to be compared to a panther, so quick in his movements that we sailors often spoke of him as 'swifter than chain-lightning.' His face was as brown as an Indian's. His eyes under ordinary conditions were a steel-gray; but in moments of excitement you would swear they were as black as coal and emitting sparks. Though he was not at all big, his neck, arms, and shoulders were those of a heavy-set man, with a chest that did you good to see. The strength of his arms and shoulders could hardly be believed; and he had equal use of both hands, even to writing with the left as well as with the right. He was a past-master in the art of boxing; though there were many hard nuts to crack in the various crews he commanded, I never knew him to come out second best. When aroused, he could strike blows and do more damage in a second than any man I ever saw could do in a minute. He always fought as if that was what he was made for; it was only when he was perfectly at peace that he seemed uneasy and restless. "He was never petulant toward those under him. Even in cases of failure to carry out his orders, or meet his expectations, he would be lenient. But if he detected you in any act that was wilful or malicious, he would assail you like a tiger. He was not a quarrelsome man; but he was the easiest person in the world for a quarrelsome man to pick a quarrel with. Good men all liked him; sneaks and tyrants hated him bitterly." We may add that all records go to show that Paul Jones was as much a father to his crew as he was a commander. He interested the sailors in the smallest details of their work, gave them lessons in rope-splicing, or reproved a young chap for his "lubberly walk" with a personal demonstration of the correct swagger to be kept in mind by Jack afloat. At the same time, with all this kindness of heart, he did not let a single man take advantage of his goodness. "I tell you, my men," he said on one occasion, "when I become convinced that a sailor of mine must be given the 'cat' I will not leave it to be done by the uncertain arm of others; but I will do it _myself_--and so confounded quick that it will make your heads swim!" On the very same day--June 14, 1777--that Paul Jones was appointed commander of the _Ranger_, Congress selected the permanent flag of the United States--the good old Stars-and-Stripes which we still have. Up to this time nobody had really been satisfied with the "Rattlesnake" emblem; Paul Jones particularly objected to it. Now Mrs. Betsey Ross, of Philadelphia, was busy at work making the first new flag from a rough pencil sketch furnished her by General Washington. When Paul Jones heard of the adoption of the new emblem, and saw plans for it, he was greatly pleased. He took out his own pencil, quickly copied the plans, and stuck the paper in his pocket. As soon as possible he proceeded to Portsmouth, and immediately entered upon the task of outfitting the _Ranger_ for sea. He found the ship to be a fine-looking craft, built expressly for speed, with a length six feet greater than the regular 20-gun vessel of the day. But he thought her spars too heavy, and ordered his shipwright to "fid them about four feet lower in the hounds," which was done. He also had fourteen long 9-pounders and four 6-pounders put in place of the regular twenty 6-pound guns intended, and made other changes looking toward her seaworthiness. He was very proud of her coppered hull, shining like burnished gold--the first hull thus covered in the new country. As the work of outfitting went on, he had the goodwill and interest of the entire colonial town. Busy though he was he did not neglect the social side of life here any more than he had elsewhere when on land; for Paul Jones loved elegance and display, intercourse with the fair sex; and his splendid bearing, immaculate dress, magnetic personality, keen wit--to say nothing of his record of daring deeds--made him extremely popular in all gatherings, particularly where hoop-skirts abounded. Many a good dame in America did her utmost to marry the gallant young captain off to her own daughter or another admiring damsel. But it was no use; Paul Jones, while always professing the greatest respect and kindliest interest in his feminine associates, never allowed them to turn his well-balanced head. Thus in his social activities there in Portsmouth, the captain of the _Ranger_ escorted bevies of charming and vivacious damsels and their mamas and papas aboard the ship and explained her many wonders, and discoursed on what she probably would do to the English. Then one day he whispered mysteriously to some of them, and forthwith these pretty Colonial girls spoke to others. The consequence was, that soon afterward there was a merry gathering at the home of one of the maids. A "quilting bee" they termed it; but there, fashioned amid chat and laughter, amid sober thought and spirit of service to country, slender fingers cut and sewed together the silken portions of a beautiful American flag--the first one of stars and stripes that anybody in that locality had yet seen. From time to time these fair workers looked for guidance to a pencilled sketch furnished them by their chosen knight. Treasured wedding and court dresses of some of their mothers furnished rare patches of blue, and lengths of red and white, and these grew into beautiful five-pointed stars and graceful stripes under the girls' careful handiwork. During this time Paul Jones was putting the finishing touches to the _Ranger_ and impatiently awaiting the dispatches he was to carry from his Government to the American Commission in France. At midnight of the 31st of October these official documents were delivered to him by a courier who had covered one hundred and forty miles, eating and sleeping in his saddle. Among the papers was the news of the surrender of Burgoyne. Nothing now prevented Paul Jones from making sail on his long cruise. The _Ranger_ was in readiness, the wind good. But before making sail there was one ceremony he must not forget. The new flag--his gift from the patriotic Portsmouth girls--must be unfurled to the breeze. And they must see it! By horse he sent Wannashego galloping to the homes of each of the five young seamstresses. In an hour they appeared, eager and excited, despite the fact that most of the good people of the town were fast asleep. With simple ceremony but eloquent suggestion the splendid banner, under the impulse of Paul Jones's own hands, went up to the _Ranger's_ peak. As it spread out to the breeze under the star-lit sky, the Scotch captain said, with a deep feeling none could help noticing: "That flag and I are twins. Born the same hour from the same womb of destiny, we cannot be parted in life or in death. So long as we can float we shall float together. If we must sink, we shall go down as one!" To the courier who had brought the dispatches, Paul Jones now turned. He handed him the receipt for the papers, and on its back he wrote: "I shall spread this news in France within thirty days." When the shore people had taken their departure, cheered by the crew of the _Ranger_ and leaving their own good wishes behind, Captain Jones immediately got under way. He took a northerly course, thereby hoping to avoid most of the enemy's cruisers, so that his dispatches could be delivered as soon as possible. He left no record except the _Ranger's_ log; but Mr. Hall, who was the ship's carpenter, gives some details of the trip which are far from uninteresting: "I had sailed with many captains in all sorts of voyages, but I had never seen a ship crowded the way Captain Jones crowded the _Ranger_. He held to his northerly route, though the wind was adverse, hanging all the time between north-northeast and east-northeast. It veered slightly at times, but you could count on it being forward of the beam on a true course, and often it was near dead ahead. Imagine, then, the situation of the ship's crew, with a top-heavy and cranky craft under their feet, and a commander who day and night insisted on every rag she could stagger under without laying clear down! "As it was, she came close to beam ends more than once, and on one occasion she righted only by us letting the fly-sheets go with hatchets. During all this trying time Captain Jones was his own navigating officer, keeping the deck eighteen or twenty hours out of every twenty-four, often serving extra grog to the drenched men with his own hands, and by his example silencing all disposition to grumble. In the worst of it the watch was lap-watched. This brought the men eight hours on and four off. There was no better way to arrange it; but for all that a good many of them began to growl. These fellows had all been shipped from Portsmouth, induced to enlist by unwise glowing accounts of the Government of the rich prize-money that would probably be made on the trip. Now, when they found the captain avoiding the enemy rather than seeking him out, and were subjected to such a terrific bit of sailing, they became dissatisfied. "At first Captain Jones was mighty angry, but as soon as he satisfied himself that the Government had really been in error, he acted splendidly by the men. He told them that he would personally guarantee them a fair revenue from prizes later on; more than that, from his own pocket he advanced them 147 guineas, to make up the difference in wages thus far allowed them by Congress but which the Marine Committee had been unable to make good on account of the poverty of the States. They quieted down then, apparently satisfied, cheering their commander well. But Lieutenant Simpson, who had really instigated the mutiny, did not escape so easily. Wannashego, an Indian boatswain's mate, had caught Simpson stirring the men up to trouble, reported it to Captain Jones, and the latter had the officer put in irons for the rest of the voyage." As Mr. Hall says in this account, the weather was bad and the voyage tempestuous. But nevertheless there were times when the tired men sought recreation in story and song, as seamen always will do, and often over the dashing waters the following refrain, composed by Midshipman Charley Bell, went echoing: "So now we had him hard and fast, Burgoyne laid down his arms at last, And that is why we brave the blast To carry the news to London! Heigh-ho! car-r-y the news; Go carry the news to London! Yes car-r-y, car-r-y, Carry the news to London!" During the last two days' run the _Ranger_ took two merchantmen loaded with wines and dried fruit and bound for London. Paul Jones put prize-crews aboard, sending one on to Brest and keeping the other with him. West of Ushant they spoke a Dutch East Indiaman, whereupon the Scotch captain informed the Dutch commander of the surrender of Burgoyne and dryly asked him to "kindly repeat the news, with my compliments, to any British captain met." A little later, on the 2d of December, the saucy _Ranger_ and her prize dropped anchor in the Loire, below Nantes, France. X IN THE ENEMY'S OWN WATERS One of the first things which Paul Jones did on landing on French soil was to seek out Dr. Benjamin Franklin, who, with Silas Deane and Arthur Lee, were his country's foreign commissioners. He found these diplomats domiciled in the fine home of Monsieur De Chaumont, a wealthy Frenchman with strong sympathies for the Colonists. It was the first meeting of Paul Jones and Benjamin Franklin--a meeting marked with much gratification on the part of each. It was also the beginning of a personal friendship long-lasting and very helpful to the Scotch adventurer. Before its conclusion the caller learned, with some chagrin, that he was not the first to bring news across the sea of the surrender of General Burgoyne; that Mr. John Austen, of Boston, had sailed in a French merchantman a day or two earlier, and by reason of the shorter course, had arrived somewhat ahead of him. However, Austen's news was mere hearsay, lacking the details and authenticity of Captain Jones's dispatches. It had been the intention of the American commissioners to give Paul Jones the _Indien_--a fine frigate building secretly at Amsterdam--on his arrival. But this proved to be one more of his disappointments, for the British minister to the Netherlands had recently discovered the destination of the vessel, and had made such protests of a breach of neutrality that the commissioners had been forced to sell the ship to France. To his previous acquaintance with the Duc and Duchesse De Chartres there is no doubt that Paul Jones owed his introduction at this time into French society. The Duchesse herself had been, before her marriage, the richest heiress in France. While her husband was a spendthrift, and a man of lax morals generally, she was highly respected in all communities. This noble family lived in a charming chateau, with even more charming gardens, on the outskirts of Paris, and as soon as they heard of the arrival of the already famous Scotch captain they sent him an urgent invitation to call. This he did. An enjoyable meeting resulted, and he was royally entertained. Later, at a ball given in his honor and attended by the élite of the social world, he met a beautiful young lady named Aimée de Telusson, the adopted daughter of King Louis XV. Mademoiselle De Telusson, after the king died, had been supported by a pension from the monarch's court, and had lived with her protectoress, Madame De Marsan, under the patronage of several great ladies, of whom the Duchesse De Chartres was one. Paul Jones was greatly fascinated with the fair Aimée, a feeling which she seemed to reciprocate. As they became better and better acquainted she fairly idolized him, and on his part he thought her the most perfect specimen of womanhood he had ever seen. Although he must have known that she was very much in love with him, this gallant seaman who was admired by all the people of France, never declared his own love to her. Dr. Franklin wished to keep Paul Jones in European waters, there to harass the British shipping. On the other hand Lee, who for some reason entertained a jealousy and dislike for the Scotchman, was bent on getting him back in American waters as soon as he could. Silas Deane, the third commissioner, was a nonentity, with little voice in the matter. However, Dr. Franklin had his way; he thundered forth his orders that Paul Jones was to stay on that side of the sea--and Paul Jones stayed. To say that he was grateful to the stout-hearted, venerable statesman is saying no more than the truth. After some delay Dr. Franklin advised him that arrangements had been completed by the commission for him to convoy a number of American merchant vessels from Nantes into Quiberon Bay, where a large French fleet, under Admiral La Motte Picquet, lay waiting with the intention of sailing for America. Such protection by French warships a week earlier would have been a distinct breach of neutrality, but now the much-talked-of "Treaty of Alliance" had been made between France and America, and henceforth France could not only openly sympathize with the new Republic but could take up arms in her behalf. Of course Paul Jones was glad at this turn of events. He was pleased for his country's sake; pleased for his own sake, because the situation promised easier working out of his plans. But it seemed that his troubles were not yet entirely over. When he reached the anchorage of the _Ranger_ he found the crew in a sad disruption. It appeared that the profligate Simpson, who had been freed from his irons upon the ship reaching port, had been working the men into a mutiny by declaring he had heard that their captain had left them in the lurch. Except for the confidence expressed in Paul Jones by the majority of his officers and some of the sailors, among whom of course was Wannashego, it is doubtful if the commander would have found very many of his crew left upon his arrival. As it stood, the malcontents were still arguing with the loyal when he put in an appearance. Upon learning the cause of the trouble his Scotch ire was so thoroughly aroused against Simpson that it is hard to guess what he would have done to him, had the miscreant not made a plausible excuse for securing what he termed his "misinformation" and uttered voluble apologies for his part in the affair. As soon as order could be obtained, the commander began to refit for the new enterprise. The craft's masts were re-shortened and other defects of structure remedied in an effort to put her on a better keel. Then in company with a tender, the brig _Independence_, the American sloop-of-war set sail. A little later, flying the Stars-and-Stripes at her masthead, she anchored off the bay at Quiberon. Without delay Paul Jones sent a small boat off to the French admiral, desiring to know, if he saluted the admiral's ship, whether her commander would return the salute. When the reply came back it was in the affirmative. Thereupon Paul Jones brought the _Ranger_ into the bay. She hove to, and the next moment her guns thundered thirteen times. Promptly the courtesy was returned by nine guns from the admiral's ship, it being the French custom to fire four guns less than a saluting Republic. It was too dark to bring in the _Independence_ for her share in the proceeding, but the next morning this little vessel sailed proudly between two parallel lines of the fine French fleet, flying her American flag, and in answer to her own guns there was returned another recognition of America as a nation. Returning to Nantes, Paul Jones sent Dr. Franklin a joyous letter, telling him about the honor paid the American flag for the first time by another country. The _Ranger_ was held in port following this until April 10, 1778. In the interval her commander had the good fortune to be much in the company of the Duc and Duchesse De Chartres and the charming Mademoiselle Aimée De Telusson. The day previous to the date of sailing of his vessel, the Duchesse paid him the compliment of giving a dinner in his honor. At this many distinguished families were present, as well as prominent army and navy officers. During the course of festivities, the Madame graciously presented her popular guest with a richly-jewelled watch which she said had belonged to her grandfather, Louis XIV. Paul Jones bowed, and replied with fine gallantry: "May it please your Royal Highness, if fortune should favor me at sea I will some day lay an English frigate at your dainty feet!" The next morning the _Ranger_ put out to sea again. With the salt spray dashing in his nostrils, with every fiber of his adventure-loving soul thrilling once more in expectation of a brush with the enemy, Paul Jones forgot the tameness of politics and the foibles of social functions. With gusto he took a brigantine in the Irish Sea on the 14th, and sank her. Then proceeding into St. George's Channel he ran onto the _Lord Chatham_, a British merchant ship bound from London to Dublin. This vessel was valuable enough to keep as a prize, so the Scotch captain manned her with a prize crew and had them take her to Brest. Paul Jones now headed farther northward along the coast of England. In his mind he was formulating an exceedingly daring plan, none less than a sudden descent upon Whitehaven, the seaport he knew so well as a boy and from which he had made his first voyage to America. If he could dash into Whitehaven, destroy most of the immense shipping which was always harbored there, and thereby effect an exchange of prisoners in Europe, he thought the risk would well be worth while. But when he arrived in the vicinity of his old headquarters, the winds were so contrary to his purpose that he gave up the project for the time being. For the next few days he cruised along the southern coast of Scotland on the lookout for other enemy prizes. Nothing of great moment occurred, and with better weather conditions than had previously prevailed, he made up his mind again to try an attack on Whitehaven. The hills were covered with snow when the _Ranger_ came within sight of them. In the harbor of the town of some fifty thousand inhabitants were collected almost three hundred merchant-ships and fishing-smacks. The captain had carefully let down the portlids to conceal his guns, and adopted whatever other means he could devise for concealing the nature of his ship. Paul Jones determined to wait for night to perform his operations. He would need the screen of darkness. When that hour had come he ordered every man mustered on deck. Then he announced his plan to them and finished by saying tersely: "I call for thirty volunteers to assist me in this task of reprisal for the numerous burnings the British have put upon us in America. No man need engage in this enterprise unless he wishes to. But those who share with me its dangers shall also share with me its glories." It seemed as if every man on deck shouted, "Aye, sir!" As might be expected Wannashego, the young Narragansett, was among the first. Paul Jones smiled with satisfaction. "With so many volunteers I see I shall have to choose my thirty men from among you. The strongest and most active are the ones I want." He then proceeded to make his selections. When he was done he noticed that he had forgotten the faithful Indian youth. "I shall make it thirty-one, on second thought," he said promptly, and at once called upon the happy Wannashego to step forth with the other volunteers. It was a little after midnight when, with his men in two boats, Paul Jones left the _Ranger_. It was so far in to the piers that it was almost dawn when they finally arrived at one of the outer ones. All haste must be made or the light of the approaching day would disclose their movements and prevent their success. Paul Jones ordered one boat, under the direction of Mr. Hill and Lieutenant Wallingford, to proceed on the north side of the harbor and set fire to the shipping there, while with the second party the commander went to the other side, to perform a similar work. Two grim-looking forts rose up in the darkness, one facing each section of harbor. In order to render the guns in these harmless, Paul Jones and Wannashego were now set ashore, and while they began stealthily and swiftly to approach the first forts, their crew started off to set fire to the shipping on the south. 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. Thus, about all that could be offered was the command of small warships or privateers, offers which the proud Jones promptly rejected. To M. Chaumont he wrote, in this connection, a letter containing the following extracts: "I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast, for I intend to go _in harm's way_. Therefore buy a frigate with sails fast, and that is sufficiently large to carry twenty-six or twenty-eight guns on her deck. I would rather be shot ashore than go to sea in the armed prizes I have described." He continued his heckling correspondence with the greatest energy, alternately cajoling, proposing, complaining, begging to be sent on some important enterprise. He wrote innumerable letters to De Sartine, Franklin, De Chartres, De Chaumont, and many others, and finally to the king himself, who granted him an interview. More as a result of this conference with Louis XV than from other sources, he was finally rewarded by being put in command of a small squadron. At first he was highly delighted with the appointment, but as time wore on and he saw what a poor assortment of ships and crews he had, he was vastly disappointed. But having accepted the command, with true heroic purpose he made up his mind to carry it through to the best of his ability. The expense of fitting out the expedition was the king's, while the flag and the commissions of the officers were American. The object of the French government was to get Paul Jones to operate against the coasts and shipping of England under the American flag, as the courtesy of warfare forbade France, as an ally, to ravage the coasts of Great Britain before the enemy herself had struck a blow at French interests. As stated, Paul Jones had a motley array of ships--those which were left over after the French officers had had their pick. The flag-ship, the _Bon Homme Richard_, was a worn-out old East Indiaman, which he refitted and armed with six 18-pounders, twenty-eight 12-pounders, and eight 9-pounders--a battery of forty-two guns. The crew consisted of 375 men of many nationalities, among which were not more than one hundred and fifty Americans, including Wannashego, who had faithfully stuck to his leader during all his trials in Brest. The _Alliance_, the only American ship, was a good frigate rating as a large thirty-two or medium thirty-six. She was commanded by a jealous-minded, half-mad Frenchman named Landais, who was in the American service. The _Pallas_, thirty-two guns; the _Vengeance_, twelve guns; and the little _Cerf_, of eight guns, were all officered and manned by Frenchmen. Bad as were conditions of ship and crew, however, there was one other feature of the organization which proved a greater handicap to the Scotch commodore. This was the famous _concordat_, an agreement between the various commanders of the ships which Paul Jones was compelled to sign before his commission would be approved by the French minister of the navy. While its terms related largely to the distribution of prize money, it also contained clauses which weakened his authority, and gave his captains a chance to wink at it if they chose. The little squadron, accompanied by two French privateers, sailed finally from L'Orient on August 14, 1779, on what was planned to be a fifty-days' cruise. Thanks to the Duchesse De Chartres's gift of ten thousand louis d'or, Paul Jones had been able to fit out his flag-ship in a much better condition than the king's fund would have permitted. On the 18th the privateer _Monsieur_, which was not bound by the _concordat_, took a prize which the captain of that vessel proceeded to relieve of all valuables and then ordered into port. The commodore opposed this, and sent the prize to L'Orient. This so angered the _Monsieur's_ captain that he parted company with the squadron. But the episode was only the beginning of Paul Jones's troubles with insubordination of officers. While attempting to capture a brigantine, some of his English sailors deserted in two of his small boats. These could not be overhauled, and Landais insolently upbraided the commodore for their loss, declaring that thereafter he would act entirely upon his own responsibility (which indeed he had been doing right along!). The _Cerf_ and the other privateer then pretended to go off to look for the escaped former English prisoners, and they too failed to appear again. Paul Jones was now left with only the _Bon Homme Richard_, the _Pallas_, the _Vengeance_, and the _Alliance_. It would have been better, as later events showed, if the latter ship had decamped with the _Cerf_ and the privateers; for Captain Landais impudently ignored all of Paul Jones's signals. He even had the audacity to leave the squadron for several days at a time, as the cruise continued, returning when the whim seized him. When other prizes were taken he was bold enough to send two of these into Bergen, Norway, where they were sold to the English, a procedure entirely against the wishes of the commodore, and one which was a source of trouble between Denmark and the United States for many years after the war. Paul Jones was also compelled to humor the other French captains. Several times he changed his course or modified his operations in compliance with their demands. Had he enjoyed an absolute command he would have carried out his pet scheme of laying Leith and Edinburgh under contribution, but he was so afraid that such a venture would miscarry, owing to the uncertain behavior of his men, that he gave it up. With his old flag-ship, his ragged squadron, and his unruly officers, Paul Jones then cruised along the Yorkshire coast, and succeeded in capturing a number of vessels. Finally, as he was preparing to end his disappointing voyage at The Texel, Holland, in accordance with Dr. Franklin's orders, chance threw in his way the opportunity for making the cruise a brilliant success. And, Jones-like, this opportunity he seized eagerly. He saw in a flash that it was his one moment for restoring his waning power to its former pinnacle. XIII FIGHTING FRIEND AND FOE It was on the 23d of September, when the squadron was chasing a small ship off Flamborough Head, that a number of distant sails were seen rounding the point. A long, steady look through his glass convinced Commodore Jones that he could not be mistaken: that this was the Baltic fleet of merchantmen which he had heard were in that vicinity, and which he had hoped he might meet before he reached The Texel. Without delay Paul Jones hoisted the signal for a general chase. Captain Landais, however, ignored the signal, and sailed on by himself. So angry was Paul Jones at this cool display of indifference--or cowardice, if that it were,--that he stamped his foot on the deck, and shouted his feelings through his speaking-trumpet, but it availed nothing; the insolent Landais kept right on going. When the merchant ships saw Paul Jones's squadron bearing down upon them, they ran in under the lee of the shore, and, protected by two British frigates which immediately got in between them and their foe, made off down the coast at their best speed. These English frigates were the _Serapis_, a brand-new ship of forty-four guns, and the _Countess of Scarborough_, twenty guns. [Illustration: FIGHT BETWEEN THE SERAPIS AND THE BON HOMME RICHARD] The afternoon sun was well down in the heavens by this time. In the far distance, her sails glinting white and rosy in the path of the sun, and constantly growing smaller, was the fleeing _Alliance_. And not far behind her, in pursuit, sped the little _Vengeance_, whose captain Paul Jones had told to try to persuade the half-mad Landais to return to his duty. This turn of affairs left two ships facing each other on each side. Commodore Jones ordered Captain Cottineau, of the _Pallas_, to look after the _Countess of Scarborough_, while he himself took care of the _Serapis_. He never lost his head; with that "cool, determined bravery," of which Benjamin Franklin spoke, and with "that presence of mind which never deserted him," recorded by Fanning, he made up his mind to make the best of a seemingly hopeless situation, and engage an enemy ship which he knew to be the superior of his own in almost every respect. He now crowded on all possible sail, until the _Bon Homme Richard_ had come within pistol shot of the _Serapis_. It was then seven o'clock and the moon was just rising in a clear blue sky. Off some distance, the _Countess_ had begun to run away, and the little _Pallas_ was making after her fiercely. Paul Jones was thus left practically alone to meet his big antagonist of the bristling guns and well-trained, perfectly-disciplined crew. As the _Bon Homme Richard_ approached him, Captain Pearson, of the _Serapis_, hailed; but there was no reply. "I don't like this fellow's looks, for all he is apparently less powerful than ourselves," observed the British commander to his first officer. Uneasily he used his night-glass again. "I wonder if it can be the blood-thirsty pirate, Paul Jones," he added a moment later. Then he ordered his sailing-master to hail again. "This is His Majesty's ship _Serapis_, forty-four guns. What ship is that?" Still no answer. Once more the hail came over the water, sharper, more peremptorily. "This is His Maj----" By this time Paul Jones had the _Bon Homme Richard_ where he wanted her; he gave a low signal to Richard Dale, who commanded the _Richard's_ gun-deck, and Lieutenant Dale cried, "Blow your matches, boys!" At his words the gunners touched a tiny flame to the touch-hole of each big gun on the port side, and a heavy broadside was poured into the enemy ship. But the British captain was not far behind. Before the echoes had died out his own guns spat fire with a roar, and great clouds of smoke drifted up and began to envelope the combatants. Following this the discharges came fast and furious, both the American and British crews working their guns with the utmost vigor. From the beginning the fight seemed to go against the _Bon Homme Richard_. There was hardly any stage of the three and a half hours' desperate combat at which Paul Jones would not have been excused in lowering his flag--had he not been the prodigious fighter he was. Hardly had the battle well begun when two of the rust-pitted old 18-pounders exploded, killing the men working them and rendering the whole battery useless for the rest of the action. Perceiving this, and anxious to take advantage of the loss of defense on the lower gun-deck resulting, Captain Pearson attempted again to pass the bow of the _Richard_ and rake her. On the other hand, Commodore Jones's whole effort was to close with the enemy and board him, for he knew now that it was only a question of time, if he did not succeed, before his old shell of a vessel would be sunk. After the broadsiding had continued with unremitting fury for almost an hour, Captain Pearson made another effort to get across the _Richard's_ bow. But he miscalculated, and the two vessels were brought so close together that the _Richard_ ran into her enemy's weather quarter. Paul Jones was quick to make his first attempt to board, but the ships swung apart before the operation could be completed, and those who had reached the _Serapis's_ rail had to leap back to save themselves from capture. The _Bon Homme Richard_ was now in a sad condition. Little of her starboard battery was left, and of the 140 odd officers and men stationed at the main gun-deck battery at the beginning, over eighty had been killed or wounded. Numerous holes low in the hull, made by the big balls of the _Serapis's_ 18-pound guns, were letting in water at an alarming rate. Time and time again did the ship's carpenter and his mate stop these up, only to have new holes splinter through with a sickening sound. It is no wonder that Captain Pearson, knowing his enemy was in great distress, thought that, when the crew of the other ship had failed to board him, Commodore Jones would be ready to surrender. "Has your ship struck?" he called through his trumpet. And then Paul Jones made his famous reply: "I have not yet begun to fight!" After the ships had swung apart they continued to fire broadsides into each other. With the starboard battery of the _Richard_ practically out of commission, however, it is easy to see that she worked at a great disadvantage in this sort of dueling. Had not a lucky wind favored her at this stage, it is likely she could not have floated much longer. This enabled her to blanket her enemy, which compelled the _Serapis_ to lose all headway. By more adroit handling of his vessel, waterlogged though she was, Paul Jones once more brought the ships alongside, bow to bow and stern to stern. "Now, my fine fellows, lash us together!" cried the commodore; and with his own hands he helped his men to do the job, while the muskets of the British sailors rattled a storm of lead among them. At this critical time, when Paul Jones was bending every nerve to grapple with the _Serapis_, the renegade _Alliance_ suddenly made her appearance. The hearts of the gallant commander and his brave lads beat gladly at this sight. "Now," thought they, "Landais has come back to help us!" Judge of their dismay when, as soon as he could get within range, the mad French captain turned his broadsides not into the British frigate but into the already sorely-afflicted _Bon Homme Richard_! She staggered under the fresh onslaught, the vicious bite of him who should have given aid. The American sailors cursed the treacherous Landais, and shook their fists at him. If they could have caught him they would have rended him limb from limb, so violent was their rage. In the midst of the maledictions, the culprit turned about and made away again, with the strange fickleness of purpose that had all along characterised his movements. As soon as the _Serapis_ and the _Richard_ were well lashed together, Paul Jones drew practically all his crew from below to the upper deck and the tops, leaving only a small force to man the three small pieces on the quarter-deck. From this upper position they now commenced sweeping the decks of the enemy with their muskets. The crew of the _Serapis_, on the other hand, were forced to take refuge on their lower decks, from which point they continued to fire their great guns into the already riddled hull and lower decks of the _Richard_. Several times Captain Pearson made desperate attempts to cut the lashings loose, but at each of these efforts the fire of the American ship's muskets was so accurate and withering that British seamen fell one upon another. Not a single British Jack reached the coveted goal, if we may except one bold fellow who was just opening his heavy Sheffield knife to sever the key-rope when an unerring bullet from the watchful Wannashego cut short his life. In another instance, the young Indian saw a British sailor drawing a bead on Paul Jones, who stood all unconscious of his peril. There was a report--but it was the report of Wannashego's reliable gun instead, and the British marine tumbled from the rigging where he was concealed. Soon all the officers of the French marines had been killed or wounded, and Paul Jones was forced to take charge of them. His voice cheered them on in their own tongue; he exhorted them to take good aim, and when he saw a fellow firing ineffectively, he would often take his musket from his hand and show him, by coolly bringing down one of the foe, how he should manipulate it. In fact, toward the last the commodore stood on the quarter-deck rail by the main topmast backstay, and as he gave orders and encouragement, received loaded muskets from his marines, and fired them with deadly precision. His indomitable spirit penetrated every quaking soul, infusing it with new hope and new courage. As one French sailor said afterward: "Everyone who saw his example or heard his voice became as much a hero as Paul Jones himself." By this time both vessels were on fire in several places. Half the men on both ships had been killed or disabled. The leaks in the _Richard's_ hold had multiplied, she was much deeper in the sea; while the mainmast of the _Serapis_ hung in splinters and threatened to go by the board at any moment. Now, to the surprise of everybody, the cowardly Landais, with the _Alliance_, once more put in an appearance. This time he fired several broadsides into both combatants, seeming to take as much delight in hitting one as the other. As before, the man who surely could not have been sane, put his helm over and sailed away--very luckily for the last time. While he was making off, a gunner on the _Richard_, thinking the ship was sinking, called loudly for quarter. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Paul Jones sprang forward and felled him with the butt end of his pistol. "Do you want quarter?" called Captain Pearson. "No," roared Paul Jones; "you are the one to ask that!" And he purposely sent a pistol shot whistling close to the British captain's ears. As if to make matters worse at this trying moment, the master-at-arms on the _Richard_, also thinking the ship sinking, opened the hatches and released nearly two hundred British prisoners, taken from prizes, who began to swarm on deck in the greatest confusion! It was a moment to try the resourcefulness of the quickest intellect. Paul Jones hesitated just a moment, then he thundered at the prisoners to man the pumps or he would fill them full of lead. They obeyed like dumb-driven sheep. As the water in the hold of the sinking ship began to pour over her bulwarks into the sea again, the men on the _Richard_ resumed the battle with new vigor. Paul Jones had given orders to drop hand-grenades from the rigging down into the hold of the _Serapis_, through her main hatchway, which was open. By this same means the enemy had been set afire at various times before. Now, at an opportune moment, a hand-grenade fell among a pile of cartridges strung out on the deck of the _Serapis_. A terrific explosion occurred, killing many of her men. It was an opportunity too good to let go. With a shout, the dashing John Mayrant, cleared the bulwarks of the enemy ship at the head of a yelling throng of Americans and French, and the next moment a terrific hand-to-hand struggle with cutlass and pistol was being waged. [Illustration: BOARDING THE SERAPIS _From a rare print_] Seeing his men falling back, Captain Pearson knew that he was a defeated man, and struck his colors to save those of his crew still alive. The capture of the British frigate came none too soon, for the old shot-torn _Bon Homme Richard_ was settling fast. By the combined efforts of crew and prisoners, the fire in both ships was extinguished. Then all bent their efforts to removing the wounded and prisoners from the _Richard_ to the _Serapis_, together with ammunition and other valuables. All the rest of that night the heroic old craft kept afloat, with the Stars-and-Stripes--the same flag the Colonial maids of Portsmouth had given Paul Jones upon his departure in the _Ranger_--flying proudly at her peak. Then, as if waiting for daylight to illuminate her last action before man, she slowly sank just as the sun came up across the waters in the east. The very last vestige anybody saw of her was her flag, still flying--unstruck! * * * * * When, two years later, Paul Jones returned to America, he met Miss Mary Langdon, who had been one of the girls to make this ensign. "I wished above all things to bring this flag to America," said he; "but, Miss Mary, I could not bear to strip the old ship in her last agony, nor could I deny to my dead on her decks, who had given their lives to keep it flying, the glory of taking it with them." "You have done exactly right, commodore," exclaimed she. "That flag is just where we all wish it to be--flying at the bottom of the sea over the only ship that ever went down in victory!" XIV DIPLOMACY AND SOCIETY The desperate battle fought in the bright moonlight was witnessed by many persons in Scarborough and on the Flamborough Head. These English people immediately spread the alarming tidings throughout the enemy country by lighting immense signal fires on the cliffs. Although it was not definitely known what ship had taken the formidable _Serapis_, nearly everybody rightly guessed that it had been captained by the "terrible Paul Jones." The British along the sea coast all the way from Cape Clear to Hull were in a great fright, and for days to come looked for the appearance of the "blood-thirsty buccaneer" in their particular locality. With his two new prizes--for the _Pallas_ had succeeded in capturing the _Countess of Scarborough_ after a short engagement--the commodore now set off for The Texel, where he arrived October 3. He was none too soon in getting into port, either. Very shortly after his arrival an English squadron, consisting of sixty-four ships-of-the-line and three heavy frigates, which had been looking for him, hove into view. The scape-goat Landais, with the _Alliance_, was already in The Texel when the American-French squadron arrived. Paul Jones at once took steps for the care of the wounded and prisoners, and then sent special messengers to Dr. Franklin with news of the great victory and a report of Landais's scandalous behavior, demanding that he be court-martialed. An important problem now to be solved was how to induce the Dutch authorities to allow Paul Jones and his battered ships to remain long enough in a neutral port to make necessary repairs to carry them to France. Indeed, Sir Joseph Yorke, British minister in Holland, lost no time in demanding that the Dutch government turn over to England "the pirate and criminal, Paul Jones, and every ship under his command." An enormous amount of correspondence then passed between the diplomats of the three countries concerned; conferences were held; even Paul Jones himself took a most active hand in presenting his arguments in favor of the step he had taken. The people of Holland were secretly in sympathy with the revolting colonies; but the wealthy Dutch ship-owners were gaining a rich harvest from the commerce with England at this time, and they made their weighty power felt in settling the question. These men thought the ships should be held by Holland until after the war. However, the other contingent argued them down, and the States-General at last sent England the verdict of his country, which was to the effect that Holland would _not_ deliver over the vessels to England, but would insist that they depart from Holland waters at the first favorable weather. In the meantime, kind-hearted Dutch maids thronged the decks of the _Serapis_, _Alliance_, _Pallas_ and _Scarborough_. They brought with them gifts of food and clothing for the strong and healthy, as well as an abundance of delicacies for the sick and wounded. More than one rosy-cheeked, fair-haired girl acted as nurse, and it is no wonder that under such jolly, tender care the ailing ones made rapid improvement. As he watched his ships nearing the finish of their repairs, Paul Jones's heart became more anxious, and often he looked seaward where the British ships were grimly patrolling to prevent his escape when the Dutch authorities should order him out at the first favorable wind. He hoped intensely that this sort of wind would not come before he had everything aboard in readiness and his plans for evading the enemy well formed. On the 13th of December the French minister of marine, De Sartine, demanded that he should fly the French flag, which naturally commanded greater respect from Holland than the American ensign. In vain he expostulated to this gentleman and to Dr. Franklin, his friend in Paris; the latter stated he thought it the best thing to do. Therefore, Paul Jones made the change, but with great reluctance. It grieved him deeply to see the flag of another country, other than that under which the _Serapis_ had had to bow down to, fluttering at her masthead. Close upon the heels of this disappointment came another to tear the heartstrings of the irritated Scotchman. This was an order for him to relinquish supervision of all his ships except the _Alliance_, which he was to command as an ordinary captain. The _Serapis_ he must turn over to Captain Cottineau, who, it was said, would look after the fortunes of this vessel, as well as the _Pallas_ and the _Vengeance_ and the _Scarborough_, in the future. Commodore Jones sent vehement protestations at this humiliating change to the French government and the American commissioners, but in vain; no other arrangement could well be made, wrote Dr. Franklin. So our hero bowed in submission, although when he went aboard the _Alliance_ as her captain he defiantly pulled down the French flag at her peak and ran up the Stars-and-Stripes. The incessant jangling and wrangling with the diplomats of three countries in addition to his own, had made Paul Jones very sore at heart. Therefore, he was very glad when, on Christmas Day, 1779, the weather underwent a change which promised him a chance to get away from The Texel. That morning he awoke to find such a gale blowing that most of the patrolling English frigates were driven off the coast. All that day and the next it howled so furiously that he dared not venture to steal out himself; but early on the morning of the 27th he made a dash in the _Alliance_, boldly shaping his course for the Straits of Dover. As daring as ever, he sailed down the English Channel, passing close to the Channel Fleet of the enemy. They gave chase, but he outmaneuvred them, and finally put in at Corunna, Spain, for repairs. On February 10, 1780, he sailed into L'Orient. The following year was passed mainly in France, where Paul Jones applied himself energetically to trying to collect prize money for his men and himself, and trying to secure an important command. He wrote rather more than his usual large number of letters,--to Franklin, the Duchesse De Chartres, Robert Morris, Arthur Lee, Dr. Bancroft, and many others,--in an endeavor to carry out some of his pet plans for the betterment of war operations. In spite of his hard efforts to collect this prize money, there were many annoying delays caused by technicalities, and his crew as a whole grew impatient and rebellious. This feeling was increased when the traitor, Landais, suddenly appeared among them, and abetted by Arthur Lee, stirred up the men with many lies. Wannashego carried this state of affairs to Paul Jones as soon as he became convinced of the peril of the situation, but even while he was in quest of his friend, Landais and Lee went aboard and took possession of the ship. When, on his arrival, Paul Jones found what had transpired he was so angry that he could hardly contain himself. He came very near to shooting both the conspirators; but as usual when in a temper he calmed down with surprising quickness, and departed. The next day the _Alliance_, under the command of Landais, sailed for America, with Lee aboard. Paul Jones made no effort to prevent it. "Let them go," he said to Wannashego; "I am well rid of such a pair of precious scoundrels. As for the ship, she is not worth fighting over." So Landais sailed away with the _Alliance_, but to his own ruin--something the astute Scotchman had foreseen. On the voyage Landais's eccentricity caused his friend Lee to put him under arrest, and on arrival in America a court of inquiry found him unfit for command, and he never burdened the service again. Paul Jones had arrived in Paris this time in a blaze of fame. He was lionized by society, congratulated by royalty, was the idol of women high and low. He was bidden by the Duc and Duchesse De Chartres to be their guest at the Palais Royal, and occupied one of the splendid apartments of that historic dwelling during his stay in Paris. As soon as the Duchesse had received the commodore's letter acquainting her with his victory over the _Serapis_--in these words: "The enemy surrendered at thirty-five minutes past 10:00 p. m. by your watch, which I consult only to fix the moment of victory"--she prepared to give a great ball in his honor. And now that Paul Jones was present in person, the charming Duchesse could not seem to do enough to attest her regard for him. She gave a wonderful banquet, with him as the chief guest. As the evening waned he asked her if she remembered his promise to lay an English frigate at her dainty feet. On hearing her assent, he turned to an attendant, who had been holding the sword surrendered by Captain Pearson, and taking this he dropped gracefully on one knee and presented it to the beautiful Duchesse with these words: "While I am unable to lay so large a thing as a frigate at the feet of your Royal Highness, I nevertheless am able to surrender to the loveliest of women the sword surrendered by one of the bravest of men on such a frigate." Of course the petite Aimée De Telusson was present at this meeting, and to her, as usual, Paul Jones gallantly paid the most marked attention. His gayety was contagious. His wit was the wonder of all those assembled. With one and all he was a favorite, this son of a poor Scotch gardener. XV AND THE LAST For some time Benjamin Franklin, knowing the need of supplies for Washington's army, had been soliciting Paul Jones to take command of the _Ariel_ and transport such goods from France to America. But the Scotch commodore, dissatisfied with the humbleness of a command on such a small sloop, had held off stubbornly, hoping that in the meantime a ship of greater caliber and importance would be presented to him. Honors bestowed upon him by the King of France, wherein he had been presented with the Royal Order of Military Merit and a beautiful gold sword, seemed to have increased his native unbounded ambitions and to have almost spoiled him for anything but the most exalted of offices. But on October 8, 1780, he finally sailed away in the _Ariel_, having a goodly number of his old crew with him, including his valiant young Indian friend Wannashego, who was now eager to see his home country and people, from whom he had been away just one month short of three years. The young Narragansett's muscles were like steel bands now, and not a member of the _Ariel's_ crew could throw him. This had been amply attested in the wrestling bouts which took place on the eve of the ship's departure from L'Orient, when Commodore Jones had given an elaborate farewell party. On this occasion the little _Ariel_ had been bewitchingly decorated from stern to bow, the finest people of France had been in attendance, and a wonderful mimic sham battle had been shown, a replica of that terrible fight between the _Bon Homme Richard_ and the _Serapis_. The little _Ariel_ arrived in Philadelphia the 18th of February, 1781, and there her commander took affectionate leave of Wannashego. For five years the young Narragansett Indian had fought at Paul Jones's side, never once flinching, and therefore he seemed more like a younger brother than a friend. At this time the Scotchman himself was thirty-three years old. Upon his arrival the commodore called on many of his friends, and then proposed having an investigation of the doings of his enemy, Arthur Lee. But his friends dissuaded him from this. With the whole country ringing his praises, as had been the case when he left France, it was easy for him to forgive his enemies. Congress passed resolutions in which they complimented him for his victories and service to the States, and a most appreciative letter was written him by the great George Washington himself. It now seemed to Paul Jones a favorable time to improve his rank--an object he never lost sight of!--and on May 28 he sent a memorial to Congress reiterating his claims to stand above the captains who had been unjustly put ahead of him. He failed, probably on account of the political influence of the aforesaid captains; but he was rewarded with the command of the _America_, a fine new 74-gun ship-of-the-line then building at Portsmouth. He at once went to Portsmouth, and worked for weeks getting her ready for sea--only to have her turned over to the King of France! With undaunted energy he now attempted to get hold of the _South Carolina_, formerly the _Indien_. But the plan failed, and he remained without a vessel. Unable to rest, although his health had for some time been failing, he was given consent to go off with the French fleet under Marquis De Vaudreuil, "in pursuit of military marine knowledge," as he termed his object. Then, in the summer of 1783, came an attack of fever. On his recovery, he was appointed by Congress as agent to collect all moneys due from the sale of prizes taken in European waters under his command. In this work he showed unusual business tact and ability. When the war closed, he began a profitable business in illuminating oils, and continued his activities in securing prize money until all accounts had been settled. Then Paul Jones set off for Copenhagen to collect indemnity from the Danish government for the prizes the mad Landais had delivered to Bergen, and which that country had turned over to England before the declaration of hostilities between the two. He arrived in January, 1788, and was magnificently entertained by the court, being given a pension of 1500 crowns a year "for respect shown to the Danish flag" while he commanded in the European seas. The negotiations for indemnity were suspended and transferred, with his agreement, to Paris. When Paul Jones was in Paris, the Russian ambassador to France made a proposition to him, through Mr. Jefferson, to take a position in the Russian navy. Russia was then at war with Turkey, and the clever Simolin so impressed the Scotch captain with the great deeds he might do for the benefit of the Russian empire and the distress of the Turks, that he at once began to maneuver for the highest command possible. He demurred at the rank of captain-commandant, a rank equal to that of brigadier-general in the present United States army--and maintained that nothing less than that of rear-admiral was fitting. This was allowed. Our hero left Copenhagen on his ill-fated Russian mission, April 11, and made a flying and perilous trip to St. Petersburg. The Baltic was filled with ice blocks, but at the muzzle of his pistols the intrepid Scotchman forced two frightened and unwilling boatmen to row him across the turbulent stream. On April 23 he was presented to the Empress, and she conferred upon him the coveted rank of rear-admiral, to the profound disgust of many of the English officers in the service of Russia, who looked upon the newcomer as a red-handed and infamous pirate. With many a jealous eye on him, Paul Jones departed from St. Petersburg on May 7, to take command of the Russian squadron in the Black Sea. But even while he was leaving envy and hate behind him, he was going forward into feeling even more bitter. His fortune put him in co-command with an arrogant adventurer, the Prince of Nassau, who at once became extremely jealous of the American. Nassau advised him to allow Prince Potemkin, in charge of the fleet, to take the credit for any success which might result from an engagement, and to hold his tongue--two things which Paul Jones's nature would not allow him to do. It is not advisable to enter into the details of this campaign, but enough may be given to explain some of the difficulties the man from across the sea encountered. Following some unimportant engagements, Captain Pacha, whose fleet lay before Oczakow, protecting that Turk-infested town from the Russian ships, attempted to attack the Russian fleet. But one of his ships ran aground, and the others anchored in much confusion. Paul Jones then made such a fierce attack that the Turkish ships cut anchor and fled, with him in pursuit. He signaled Nassau to join him, but the latter paid no attention, and continued to fire inhumanely into two others of the enemy which were aground and ablaze. Paul Jones then continued on after the fleeing Turkish ships, many of which he captured or ran aground. Later on, the cowardly Nassau came up and proceeded to rake the helpless enemy fore and aft, killing most of their crews while they pleaded for quarter. Paul Jones was so disgusted and incensed at this conduct that he publicly upbraided Prince Nassau, gaining his further ill-will, and bringing down upon his head a rebuke from the crafty Prince Potemkin. To add to his anger, when the Empress made her awards of bravery for this battle, Nassau received the warmest praise and a valuable estate, while Paul received only the mediocre award of the Order of St. Anne. A little later the despotic Potemkin had made up his mind that he could not get along with the independent and fiery American seaman, and secured an order which sent him into the northern seas. This was practically a dismissal for Paul Jones, who returned to St. Petersburg in virtual disgrace. By this time, too, Empress Catherine had had her ears so filled with the lies of his enemies, who seemed to take delight in besmirching his character and causing him every annoyance possible, even to the extent of intercepting his mail, that she was sincerely anxious to get rid of the man whom she had only a little while before admired so greatly. She did not dare to do this openly, however, owing to his powerful influence in France, which she feared; so promised him an important command in the Baltic seas, a command which she secretly made up her mind should never come his way. Patiently Paul Jones waited in his humble lodgings in St. Petersburg for this commission. Days rolled by. Weeks rolled by. Months began to multiply. While he waited, he was falsely accused, in March, 1789, of an atrocious crime, and forbidden to approach the palace of the Empress. But for the French ambassador, M. De Ségur, who had a strong influence with the Empress, and who proved that Paul Jones was the victim of a plot, it is hard to tell how he would have come out of this difficulty. As it was, Catherine once more received him graciously, with profuse apologies. But Paul Jones's health, largely owing to the indignities heaped upon him in Russia, was now fast failing; he asked for two years' leave of absence, and it was granted. His services to that country were considerable, yet they have never to this day been recognized. As an instance of the ridiculous reports circulated about him, we will state that he was said to have murdered his nephew--a person who had never existed! Can we wonder that the sensitive soul of this brave man was shattered after his harrowing experiences? Can we wonder that his iron-clad constitution, which should have held life in him not less than four-score years, began to go to pieces when he was still a young man? On August 18, 1789, Paul Jones left St. Petersburg, never to return, and never again to fight a battle for any nation. He was only forty-two years old, but though still brave in spirit, so undermined in physical strength that he remained in Paris and became a spectator rather than an actor in the great French Revolution, then taking place. Acquainted with men of all nationalities and in the highest and most influential positions, Paul Jones, now that he could do little else, settled down to entertaining his friends and being entertained himself. Always he seemed happiest when with the charming Aimée De Telusson, who to the very end of his last hours remained ever with him, a faithful and devoted nurse. Had he continued to live in health and strength there is little doubt but that he would have taken this beautiful, unselfish, and loving girl, the daughter of a king, to be his wife, for of all his many warm women friends, with her he was ever the most tender and considerate. A stranger to illness, a conqueror of troubles which had seemed far more formidable to him, Paul Jones never doubted his recovery. Even when the doctors shook their heads and said his left lung was entirely gone and the other affected, he smiled and did not give up. His wonderful Scotch constitution held out amazingly. A number of times it looked as if he would win his battle with Death, for he would rise from his bed and seem his old energetic self again. But gradually his strength was sapped. On the afternoon of the 18th of July, 1792, when forty-five years old, he consigned himself to the inevitable, and, assisted by Gouverneur Morris, drew up his will. A few hours afterward, while he lay in bed, his great spirit quietly departed. [Illustration: PAUL JONES'S LAST BURIAL _Midshipman escorting the casket to its final resting place, in Annapolis, April 24th, 1906_] In 1905, the American Embassy in Paris exhumed the body of America's glorious hero, after it had lain hidden for one hundred and thirteen years in the abandoned Cemetery of St. Louis. Under escort of one of our finest naval squadrons the body was brought to the United States and buried with much ceremony in Arlington, the National Cemetery at Washington. * * * * * _FAMOUS AMERICANS FOR YOUNG READERS_ _Titles Ready_ GEORGE WASHINGTON By Joseph Walker JOHN PAUL JONES By C. C. Fraser THOMAS JEFFERSON By Gene Stone ABRAHAM LINCOLN By J. Walker McSpadden BENJAMIN FRANKLIN By Clare Tree Major DAVID CROCKETT By Jane Corby ROBERT FULTON By I. N. McFee THOMAS A. EDISON By I. N. McFee HARRIET B. STOWE By R. B. MacArthur MARY LYON By H. O. Stengel _Other Titles in Preparation_ 
36581	----	FOUR AMERICAN NAVAL HEROES PAUL JONES OLIVER H. PERRY ADMIRAL FARRAGUT ADMIRAL DEWEY A BOOK FOR YOUNG AMERICANS BY MABEL BORTON BEEBE WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY JAMES BALDWIN [Illustration] WERNER SCHOOL BOOK COMPANY NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON INTRODUCTION. Four times in the history of our country has the American navy achieved renown and won the gratitude of the nation. These four times correspond, of course, to the four great wars that we have had; and with the mention of each the name of a famous hero of the sea is at once brought to mind. What would the Revolution have been without its Paul Jones; or the War of 1812, without its Perry? How differently might the Civil War have ended but for its Farragut; and the Spanish War, but for its Dewey! The story of the achievements of these four men covers a large part of our naval history. [Illustration: SEAL OF THE U.S. NAVY.] Six months after the battle of Lexington the Continental Congress decided to raise and equip a fleet to help carry on the war against England. Before the end of the year (1775) seventeen vessels were ready for service, and it was then that Paul Jones began his public career. Many other ships were soon added. [Illustration: EZEK HOPKINS.] The building and equipping of this first navy was largely intrusted to Ezek Hopkins, whom Congress had appointed Commander-in-Chief, but it does not seem that he did all that was expected of him, for within less than two years he was dismissed. He was the only person who ever held the title of Commander-in-Chief of the navy. During the war several other vessels were added to the fleet, and over 800 prizes were captured from the British. But before peace was declared twenty-four of our ships had been taken by the enemy, others had been wrecked in storms, and nearly all the rest were disabled. There was no effort to build other vessels, and so, for many years, our country had no navy. [Illustration: THE FRIGATE CONSTITUTION.] In 1794, when war with the Barbary States was expected, Congress ordered the building of six large frigates. One of these was the famous _Constitution_, which is still in existence and about which Dr. Holmes wrote the well-known poem called "Old Ironsides." Through all the earlier years of our history, John Adams used his influence to strengthen our power on the sea; and he was so far successful that he has often been called "The Father of the American Navy." When the War of 1812 began the United States owned a great many gunboats for coast defense, besides seventeen sea-going vessels. It was during this war that the navy especially distinguished itself, and Oliver Hazard Perry made his name famous. [Illustration: A SLOOP OF WAR.] The ships of war in those earlier times were wooden sailing vessels, and they were very slow-goers when compared with the swift cruisers which sail the ocean now. The largest of these vessels were called ships of the line, because they formed the line of battle in any general fight at sea. They usually had three decks, with guns on every deck. The upper deck was often covered over, and on the open deck thus formed above there was a fourth tier of guns. This open deck was called the forecastle and quarter-deck. Some of the largest ships of the line carried as many as 120 guns each; the smallest was built to carry 72 guns. Next in size to these ships were the frigates. A frigate had only one covered deck and the open forecastle and quarter-deck above it, and therefore had but two tiers of guns. The largest frigate carried sixty guns, besides a large pivot gun at the bow. The American frigates were noted for their speed. Still smaller than the frigates were the corvettes, or sloops of war, as they are more commonly called. These had but one tier of guns, and that was on the open deck. They were rigged like the larger vessels, with three masts and square sails. [Illustration: THE STEAM FRIGATE POWHATAN.] The fourth class of vessels included the brigs of war, which had but two masts and carried from six to twenty guns. Equal to them in size were the schooners, which also had two masts, but were rigged fore-and-aft. The guns which they carried were commonly much smaller than those on the sloops and frigates. After Robert Fulton's invention of the steamboat in 1807 there were many attempts to apply steam on vessels of war. But it was a long time before these attempts were very successful. The earliest war steamships were driven by paddle-wheels, placed at the sides of the vessels. The paddles, besides taking up much valuable space, were exposed to the shots of the enemy, and in any battle were very easily crippled and made useless. But the speed of these vessels was much greater than that of any sailing ship, and this alone made them very desirable. For many years steam frigates were the most formidable vessels in the navy. The first successful steamship of war was the English frigate _Penelope_, which was built in 1843, and carried forty-six guns. One of the earliest and most noted American vessels of the same type was the _Powhatan_. The first screw line of battle ship was built by the French in 1849. It was called the _Napoleon_, and carried one hundred guns. It was so successful that steamships soon began to take the place of sailing vessels in all the navies of the world. [Illustration: THE MERRIMAC AND THE MONITOR.] Up to this time all war vessels were built of wood; but there had been many experiments to learn whether they might not be protected by iron plating. The first iron-clad ship was built in France in 1858; and not long after that Great Britain added to her navy an entire fleet of iron-clads. All these were built after the same pattern as wooden ships, and were simply covered or protected with iron plates. [Illustration: THE BATTLESHIP OREGON.] The first iron-clads used in our own navy were built soon after the beginning of the Civil War (1861), and were designed for use on the large rivers and along the coast. They were called "turtle-backs," and were simply large steamboats covered with thick slabs of iron and carrying thirteen guns each. The iron slabs were joined closely together and laid in such a manner as to inclose the decks with sloping sides and roofs. The first great deviation from old patterns was the _Monitor_, built by John Ericsson in 1862. She was the strangest looking craft that had ever been seen, and has been likened to a big washtub turned upside down and floating on the water. The _Merrimac_, which she defeated in Hampton Roads, was a wooden frigate which the Confederates had made into an iron-clad by covering her with railroad rails. They had also, by giving her an iron prow, converted her into a ram. These two vessels, the _Monitor_ and the _Merrimac_, were indirectly the cause of a great revolution in naval warfare; they were the forerunners of all the modern ships of war now in existence. The nations of the world saw at once that there would be no more use for ships of the line and wooden frigates and sloops of war. [Illustration: THE DYNAMITE CRUISER VESUVIUS.] The ships that have been built since that time are entirely unlike those with which Paul Jones and Commodore Perry and Admiral Farragut won their great victories. The largest and most formidable of the new vessels are known as battleships, and may be briefly described as floating forts, built of steel and armed with powerful guns. These are named after the states, as the _Oregon_, the _Texas_, and the _Iowa_. Next to them in importance are the great monitors, such as the _Monadnock_ and the _Monterey_. These are slow sailers but terrible fighters, and are intended chiefly for harbor defense. The cruisers, which rank next, are smaller than battleships and are not so heavily armed; but they are built for speed, and their swiftness makes up for their lack of strength. Among the most noted of these are the _Brooklyn_, the _Columbia_, and the _Minneapolis_. There are also smaller cruisers, such as the _Cincinnati_ and the _Raleigh_, that are intended rather for scout duty than for service in battle. Most of the cruisers are named after cities. One of the strangest vessels in the navy is the dynamite cruiser _Vesuvius_, which is armed with terrible dynamite guns. Then there is the ram _Katahdin_. She carries no heavy guns, and her only weapon of offense is a powerful ram. Her speed is greater than that of most battleships, and she is protected by a covering of the heaviest steel armor. Besides all these there are a number of smaller vessels, such as torpedo boats and tugs. A few old-fashioned wooden vessels--steam frigates and sailing vessels--are still to be found in our navy yards, but these would be of no use in a battle. In reading of the exploits of our great naval heroes it is well to keep in mind these wonderful changes that have taken place in the navy. Think of the slow-going wooden frigates which sailed the seas in the time of Paul Jones or Commodore Perry--how small and insignificant they would be if placed side by side with the tremendous _Oregon_ or with the cruisers which Admiral Dewey led to victory in the Bay of Manila! But if the glory of an achievement is measured by the difficulties that are encountered and overcome, to whom shall we award the greater honor--to our earlier heroes, or to our later? JAMES BALDWIN. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE INTRODUCTION 3 THE STORY OF PAUL JONES I. THE LITTLE SCOTCH LAD. 17 II. THE YOUNG SAILOR. 20 III. THE BEGINNING OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 23 IV. LIEUTENANT PAUL JONES. 26 V. THE CRUISE OF THE ALFRED. 29 VI. CAPTAIN PAUL JONES. 32 VII. THE CRUISE OF THE RANGER. 35 VIII. THE RANGER AND THE DRAKE. 41 IX. THE BON HOMME RICHARD. 45 X. THE GREAT FIGHT WITH THE SERAPIS. 49 XI. HONOR TO THE HERO. 57 XII. THE RETURN TO AMERICA. 61 XIII. AMBITIOUS HOPES. 63 XIV. SAD DISAPPOINTMENTS. 66 THE STORY OF OLIVER H. PERRY I. HOW THE PERRY FAMILY CAME TO RHODE ISLAND. 71 II. SCHOOL DAYS. 75 III. PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. 81 IV. THE CRUISE IN THE WEST INDIES. 83 V. THE WAR WITH THE BARBARY STATES. 87 VI. MORE TROUBLE WITH ENGLAND. 94 VII. WAR ON THE CANADIAN BORDER. 100 VIII. OLIVER PERRY BUILDS A FLEET. 105 IX. "WE HAVE MET THE ENEMY AND THEY ARE OURS." 110 X. WHAT PERRY'S VICTORY ACCOMPLISHED. 117 XI. ON THE MEDITERRANEAN AGAIN. 122 XII. CAPTAIN PERRY'S LAST CRUISE. 126 THE STORY OF ADMIRAL FARRAGUT I. CHILDHOOD. 133 II. THE LITTLE MIDSHIPMAN. 138 III. THE LOSS OF THE ESSEX. 144 IV. THE TRIP ON THE MEDITERRANEAN. 147 V. WAR WITH THE PIRATES. 150 VI. FROM LIEUTENANT TO CAPTAIN. 155 VII. THE QUESTION OF ALLEGIANCE. 162 VIII. THE CAPTURE OF NEW ORLEANS. 168 IX. THE BATTLE OF MOBILE BAY. 177 X. WELL-EARNED LAURELS. 186 THE STORY OF ADMIRAL DEWEY FOREWORD--CAUSES OF THE WAR WITH SPAIN. 195 I. THE BATTLE OF MANILA. 201 II. THE BOYHOOD OF GEORGE DEWEY. 207 III. DEWEY AS A NAVAL CADET. 210 IV. FROM LIEUTENANT TO COMMODORE. 212 V. THE AMERICAN NAVY IN CUBAN WATERS. 217 VI. THE CRUISE OF THE OREGON. 221 VII. LIEUTENANT HOBSON AND THE MERRIMAC. 225 VIII. THE DESTRUCTION OF CERVERA'S FLEET. 230 IX. THE END OF THE WAR. 236 X. LIFE ON AN AMERICAN MAN-OF-WAR. 242 XI. SOME FACTS ABOUT THE NAVY OF 1898. 247 THE STORY OF PAUL JONES [Illustration: Paul Jones.] THE STORY OF PAUL JONES. I.--THE LITTLE SCOTCH LAD. Many years ago there lived, in the southwestern part of Scotland, on the beautiful bay called Solway Firth, a gentleman whose name was Mr. Craik. In Scotland, a large farm is called an estate. Mr. Craik named his estate Arbigland. His large house stood high on the shore overlooking the sea. The lawn sloped gradually to the firth. Mr. Craik's gardener, John Paul, lived in a cottage on the estate. Mr. Craik was very fond of John Paul, for he worked well. He made the grounds like a beautiful park, and planted many trees, some of which are still standing. One day John Paul married Jean Macduff. She was the daughter of a neighboring farmer. She and John lived very happily in their little cottage. They had seven children. The fifth child was a boy, named for his father, John Paul. He was born July 6, 1747. When little John was large enough to run about he liked to play on the beautiful lawn and to wander along the shore of the firth. Sometimes he would sit still for hours watching the waves. Sometimes he and Mr. Craik's little boy would play with tiny sailboats and paddle about in the water. When they grew tired of this, they would climb among the rocks on the mountains which were back of the estate. When there were storms at sea, vessels would come into Solway Firth for a safe harbor. The water was very deep near the shore. Because of this the ships could come so near the lawn of Arbigland that their masts seemed to touch the overhanging trees. Little John Paul and his playmates liked to watch the sailors, and sometimes could even talk to them. They heard many wonderful stories of a land called America, where grew the tobacco that was packed in some of the ships. The children would often take their little sailboats to some inlet, where they would play sailor. John Paul was always the captain. He had listened carefully to the commands given by the captains of the large vessels. These he would repeat correctly and with great dignity, though he did not always understand them. John Paul spent more time in this kind of play than in going to school. In those days there were few schools, and book-learning was not thought to be of much use. At a parish school near by, John learned to spell and to repeat the rules of grammar. When he was twelve years old he felt that the time had come when he could be a real sailor. So his father allowed him to go across the firth to an English town called Whitehaven. There he was apprenticed to Mr. Younger, a merchant, who owned a ship and traded in goods brought from foreign lands. He soon went to sea in Mr. Younger's vessel, the _Friendship_. This ship was bound for America to get tobacco from the Virginia fields. II.--THE YOUNG SAILOR. At that time the trip across the Atlantic could not be made as quickly as now. There were no steamships, and the sailing vessels had, of course, to depend upon the wind to carry them to their destination. It was several months before the _Friendship_ anchored at the mouth of the Rappahannock River. Farther inland, on this river, was the town of Fredericksburg. John Paul's eldest brother, William, lived there. He had left his Scottish home many years before, and had come with his wife to Virginia. Here he was now living on his own plantation, where he raised tobacco for the English market. While the _Friendship_ was in port being loaded for its return voyage, John Paul went to Fredericksburg to stay with his brother. While there he spent the most of his time in hard study. Although he was still young, he had found that he could not succeed as he wished with so little education. It was during these months in America that he formed the habit of study. All through the remainder of his life his leisure time was given to the reading of books. After he returned to Scotland he spent six years in the employ of Mr. Younger. During that time he learned a great deal about good seamanship. When John Paul was nineteen years of age, the loss of money compelled Mr. Younger to give up his business. John Paul was soon afterward made mate on a slaver called the _Two Friends_. This was a vessel whose sole business was the carrying of slaves from Africa to America and other countries. People at that time did not think there was any wrong in slave-trading. It was a very profitable business. Even the sailors made more money than did those on vessels engaged in any other business. The _Two Friends_ carried a cargo of slaves to Jamaica, an English possession in the West Indies. As soon as port was reached, John Paul left the vessel. He said that he would never again sail on a slave-trading voyage. He could not endure to see men and women treated so cruelly, and bought and sold like cattle. He sailed for home as a passenger on board a small trading vessel. On the voyage both the captain and the mate died of fever, and the ship with all its passengers was in mid-ocean with no one to command. John Paul took the captain's place, for no one else knew so much about seamanship. This was a daring thing for one so young, as he was not yet twenty years old. When he brought the vessel safely into port, the owners were so grateful to him that they made him the captain. Soon afterward he sailed for the West Indies. The carpenter on board was, one day, very disrespectful to the young captain. He was punished by a flogging, and was discharged. Not long after this he died of a fever. The enemies of John Paul, who were jealous of him, thought this was their chance to do him harm. They said that the flogging had killed the carpenter. Many people believed this, and when John Paul again returned to Scotland, he found that his friends had lost their faith in him. During the next two years he made several voyages, but all the while he remembered the injustice done to him. He finally succeeded, however, in proving to his friends that he was worthy of their confidence. III.--THE BEGINNING OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. When John Paul visited his brother in Virginia, America was not much like what it is now. Most of the country was an unexplored wilderness, and there was no United States as we know it to-day. Some large settlements, known as colonies, had been made in that part of the country which lies between the Atlantic Ocean and the Alleghany Mountains. Most of the people who lived in these colonies were English, and their governors were appointed by the king of England. Each governor, with the help of a few men whom he chose from the people, would make laws for the colony. Not all the laws were made in this way. Sometimes the king, without caring for the wishes of the colonists, would make laws to suit himself. Up to this time the people had been obedient and loyal to their king. But when George the Third came to the throne of England, he caused the people a great deal of trouble. He sent orders to the governors that the colonists should trade with no other country than his own. All their goods should be bought in England, and, to pay for them, they must send to the same country all the corn, cotton, and tobacco which they had to sell. The colonists wished to build factories and weave their own cloth, but the king would not allow this. For a long while England had been at war with France. King George said that the colonists should help pay the expenses of that war, and therefore he began to tax them heavily. They were obliged to pay a tax on every pound of tea, and stamped paper must be bought for every legal document. The colonists were much aroused on account of the tea tax and the stamp act, as it was called. One day startling news came to John Paul in Virginia. A shipload of tea had anchored in Boston harbor. The colonists declared that they would not pay the tax on this tea, and some of them, dressed as Indians, had gone on board the vessel and thrown it all into the harbor. Later on, came the news that the king had sent his English soldiers to Boston to keep the people quiet. He had also closed the port of Boston and said that no more ships should come in or go out. This aroused the whole country. Everybody felt that something must be done to preserve the freedom of the people. Each colony chose men as delegates to confer together about what was best to be done. The delegates met in Philadelphia on the 5th of September, 1774. That meeting has since been called the First Continental Congress of America. The delegates of the colonies decided to send a petition to the king asking that he would remove the taxes and not make unjust laws. All winter the people waited for an answer, but as none came, matters grew worse in the spring. On the 19th of April, 1775, a battle was fought with the king's soldiers at Lexington, in Massachusetts. This was the first battle of the American Revolution. IV.--LIEUTENANT PAUL JONES. In the year 1773, soon after the trouble with England had begun, John Paul's brother William died in Virginia. He left some money and his plantation, but had made no will to say who should have them. He had no children, and his wife had been dead for years. His father had died the year before, and John was the only one of the family now living who could manage the estate. So he left the sea and went to live on the farm near Fredericksburg, in Virginia. He thought that he would spend the rest of his life in the quiet country, and never return to the sea. He soon learned to love America very dearly, even more than he did his own country. He wanted to see the colonists win in their struggle for their rights. But so good a sailor could not be a good farmer. In two years the farm was in a bad condition and all the money left by his brother had been spent. The agents in Scotland, with whom John Paul had left money for the care of his mother and sisters, had proved to be dishonest, and this money also had been lost. In the midst of these perplexities, he decided to serve America in the war which every one saw was now inevitable. Another congress of delegates from the colonies met in 1775, and made preparations for that war. The colonists were organized into an army, with George Washington as the commander in chief. A fleet of English vessels had been sent across the Atlantic. The swiftest of these sailed up and down the Atlantic coast, forcing the people in the towns to give provisions to the king's sailors and soldiers. Other vessels were constantly coming over, loaded with arms and ammunition for the English soldiers. George Washington's army was almost without ammunition. There was very little gunpowder made in this country at that time, and the need of it was very great. [Illustration: JOHN ADAMS.] It was thought that the best way to supply the American army with ammunition was to capture the English vessels. It was for this purpose that the first American navy was organized. The first navy yard was established at Plymouth. Here a few schooners and merchant vessels were equipped with cannon as warships. These were manned by bold, brave men, who, since boyhood, had been on the sea in fishing or trading vessels. No member of the Continental Congress did more to strengthen and enlarge this first navy than John Adams. In 1775 John Paul settled up his affairs, left the Virginia farm, and went to Philadelphia to offer his services to the naval committee of Congress. He gave his name as John Paul Jones. Just why he did this, we do not know. Perhaps he did not wish his friends in Scotland to know that he had taken up arms against his native country. Perhaps he thought that, should he ever be captured by the English, it would go harder with him if they should know his English name. We cannot tell. Hereafter we shall call him Paul Jones, as this is the name by which he was known during the rest of his life. Congress accepted his offer and he was made first lieutenant on the _Alfred_, a flag-ship. V.--THE CRUISE OF THE ALFRED. The young lieutenant was now twenty-nine years old. His health was excellent and he could endure great fatigue. His figure was light, graceful, and active. His face was stern and his manner was soldierly. He was a fine seaman and familiar with armed vessels. He knew that the men placed above him in the navy had had less experience than he. But he took the position given him without complaint. [Illustration: THE PINE TREE FLAG.] When the commander of the _Alfred_ came on board, Paul Jones hoisted the American flag. This was the first time a flag of our own had ever been raised. We do not know just what this flag was like, but some of the earliest naval flags bore the picture of a pine tree; others had a rattlesnake stretched across the stripes, and the words, "Don't tread on me." Our present flag was not adopted until two years later. On the 17th of February, 1776, the first American squadron sailed for the Bahama Islands. On the way, two British sloops were captured. The English sailors told the Americans that on the island of New Providence were forts, which contained a large amount of military supplies. They said that these forts could easily be taken. The soldiers on a vessel are called marines. A plan was made to hide the American marines in the British sloops. In that way it was thought they could go safely into the harbor of New Providence. Then they could land and take possession of the forts. [Illustration: THE RATTLESNAKE FLAG.] This plan would have been successful, but for one foolish mistake. The squadron sailed so close to the harbor during the night that in the morning all the ships could be seen from the shore. The war vessels should have remained out of sight until the marines had been safely landed from the sloops. The alarm was spread, and the sloops were not allowed to cross the bar. The commander of the squadron then planned to land on the opposite side of the island and take the forts from the rear, but Paul Jones told him he could not do this. There was no place to anchor the squadron, and no road to the forts. However, he had learned from the pilots of a good landing not far from the harbor. When he told the commander of this, he was only rebuked for confiding in pilots. So Paul Jones undertook, alone, to conduct the _Alfred_ to the landing he had found. He succeeded in doing this and the whole squadron afterwards followed. The English soldiers abandoned the forts, and the squadron sailed away the same day, carrying a hundred cannon and other military stores. VI.--CAPTAIN PAUL JONES. A short time after this, the American squadron tried to capture a British ship called the _Glasgow_, but the attempt was not successful. Because of this failure, one of the captains was dismissed from the navy, and the command of his vessel was given to Lieutenant Jones. This vessel was named the _Providence_. With it and the _Alfred_, which he also commanded, Captain Jones captured sixteen prizes in six weeks. Among them were cargoes of coal and dry goods. Best of all, he captured an English vessel bound for Canada, full of warm clothing for the British soldiers. This was a prize that proved of great value to General Washington's poorly clothed army. In those days there were selfish people just as now. In January, 1777, a jealous commodore succeeded in depriving Paul Jones of his position as captain. He was now without ship or rank. When he appealed to Congress he was put off with promises from time to time. It was not until May that his petitions were heard. There were three new ships being built for the navy at Boston. Congress gave him permission to choose one of these and have it fitted out as he wished. While waiting in Boston for these ships to be finished, Paul Jones wrote many wise suggestions about the management of the navy. Congress at first paid but little attention to these suggestions, but was afterwards glad to act upon them. These were some of the things he said: "1. Every officer should be examined before he receives his commission. "2. The ranks in a navy should correspond to those in an army. "3. As England has the best navy in the world, we should copy hers." [Illustration: BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.] Before the ship he had chosen was completed, he was ordered to wait no longer in Boston, but to take the _Ranger_, an old vessel, and sail at once for France. Through the efforts of Benjamin Franklin, the American Minister to France, the French king had acknowledged the independence of the colonies, and was ready to aid the Americans in the war. Paul Jones was to carry a letter from Congress to the American commissioners in Paris. This letter told the commissioners to buy a new fast-sailing frigate for Captain Jones, and to have it fitted up as he desired. They were then to advise him as to what he should do with it. VII.--THE CRUISE OF THE RANGER. When the _Ranger_ sailed out of Boston harbor, the stars and stripes of the American republic waved from the mast head. Paul Jones was the first naval officer to raise this flag. You remember that two years before, on the _Alfred_, he had first hoisted the pine tree emblem. When Jones with his ship entered Quiberon Bay, in France, the French admiral there saluted the American flag. This was the first time that a foreign country had recognized America as an independent nation. Paul Jones anchored the _Ranger_ at Brest and went to Paris to deliver his letter, and lay his plans before the commissioners. He told them two important things: First, that our navy was too small to win in open battle with the fleets of the English. Second, that the way to keep the English vessels from burning, destroying, and carrying away property on the American coasts, was to send vessels to the English coasts to annoy the English in the same way. The commissioners thought that these plans should be carried out at once; and since a new frigate could not be purchased for some time, they refitted the _Ranger_ for his use. On April 10, 1778, Paul Jones set out on what proved to be a memorable cruise. You remember that when he first went to sea, as a boy, he sailed from Whitehaven. This town is on the English coast, just across the Solway Firth from John Paul's old home. He knew there were large shipping yards there, and he determined to set fire to them. He planned to reach the harbor in the night, and burn the ships while the people were asleep. Because of the wind and tides, it was nearly midnight when he arrived. He found three hundred vessels of different kinds lying in the harbor. His men were put into two small boats, and each boat was ordered to set fire to half the ships. It was nearly daylight when they rowed away from the _Ranger_. Nothing could be heard but the splashing of their oars. Their flickering torches showed to them the old sleeping town, with the many white ships along the shore. Leaving orders that the fire be speedily kindled, Captain Jones took with him a few men, and scaled the walls of the batteries which protected the harbor. He locked the sleeping sentinels in the guardhouse and spiked the cannon. Then, sending his men back to the harbor, he went, with one man only, to another fort, which was a quarter of a mile away. Here he also spiked the guns. After all this had been done he returned to his boats to find that his sailors had done nothing. Not one ship was on fire! The lieutenant in charge told Paul Jones that their torches had gone out. "Anyway," he said, "nothing can be gained by burning poor people's property." Determined that they should not leave the harbor until something was destroyed, Paul Jones ran to a neighboring house and got a light. With this he set fire to the largest ship. By this time the people had been aroused, and hundreds were running to the shore. There was no time to do more. The sailors hastened back to the _Ranger_, taking with them three prisoners, whom Paul Jones said he would show as "samples." The soldiers tried to shoot the sailors from the forts; but they could do nothing with the spiked guns. The sailors amused themselves by firing back pistol shots. On reaching the ship they found that a man was missing. Paul Jones was afraid that harm had befallen him. He need not have been troubled, however, for the man was a deserter. He spread the alarm for miles along the shore. The people afterward called him the "Savior of Whitehaven." Paul Jones was greatly disappointed by the failure of his plans. He knew that if he had reached the harbor a few hours earlier he could have burned, not only all the ships, but the entire town. Although the plan to destroy English property to aid the American cause, was a wise one, from a military point of view, yet we cannot understand why Paul Jones should have selected Whitehaven for this destruction. There he had received kindness and employment when a boy. His mother and sisters lived just across the bay, and had he succeeded in burning Whitehaven, the people, in their anger, might have injured the family of the man who had so cruelly harmed them. We wonder if he thought of these things. The Earl of Selkirk lived near Whitehaven, on St. Mary's Isle. As the _Ranger_ sailed by this island, Paul Jones thought it would be well to take the earl prisoner. There were many Americans held as prisoners, by the English, and the earl could be exchanged for some of these. So, with a few men, Paul Jones rowed to the shore, where some fishermen told him that the earl was away from home. Paul Jones started to go back to his vessel. But his sailors were disappointed and asked his permission to go to the earl's house and take away the silver. Paul Jones did not like this plan, but at last consented. He did not go with the men, however, but walked up and down the shore until they returned. The sailors found Lady Selkirk and her family at breakfast. They took all the silver from the table, put it into a bag, and returned to the ship. [Illustration: MAP OF THE IRISH SEA, SHOWING THE CRUISE OF THE RANGER.] Paul Jones was always troubled about this. He afterwards bought the silver for a large sum of money, and sent it back to Lady Selkirk with a letter of apology. The people in the neighborhood were frightened when they heard of the earl's silver being taken. They ran here and there, hiding their valuables. Some of them dragged a cannon to the shore, and spent a night firing at what they supposed in the darkness to be Paul Jones' vessel. In the morning they found they had wasted all their powder on a rock! The next day the alarm was carried to all the towns along the shore: "Beware of Paul Jones, the pirate!" VIII.--THE RANGER AND THE DRAKE. An English naval vessel called the _Drake_ was sent out to capture the _Ranger_. Every one felt sure that she would be successful, and five boatloads of men went out with her to see the fight. When the _Drake_ came alongside of the _Ranger_, she hailed and asked what ship it was. Paul Jones replied: "The American Continental ship _Ranger_! Come on! We are waiting for you!" After a battle of one hour, the _Drake_ surrendered. The captain and forty-two men had been killed, and the vessel was badly injured. Paul Jones lost only his lieutenant and one seaman. Six others were wounded, one of whom died. [Illustration: THE RANGER AND THE DRAKE.] This was a great victory for Paul Jones. The _Drake_ not only mounted two more guns than the _Ranger_, but was manned by a crew that was much better drilled. The vessel belonged to the well-established English navy, which was accustomed to victory on the seas. Towing the _Drake_, Paul Jones sailed northward in safety. Then, leaving the Irish Sea, he sailed around the north coast of Ireland and returned to the harbor at Brest, with the _Drake_ and two hundred prisoners. This was just a month from the day he had set out on his cruise. The French government had now concluded an alliance with the American republic. War had been openly declared between France and England, and all the French people rejoiced over the victory of the _Ranger_. Paul Jones was not sorry when Congress sent him an order to bring his vessel to America. It was needed to protect the coasts of New Jersey from the war ships of the British. The French king did not like brave Paul Jones to return to America. He wished him to remain where he could be of more direct service to France. He therefore caused letters to be sent to him, promising that if he would stay on that side of the Atlantic he should have command of the new frigate he had wished for so long. Pleased with the prospect of this, he gave up the command of the _Ranger_, and it sailed to America under a new captain. But promises are often more easily made than kept. The French navy was well supplied with ships and officers. These officers were jealous of the success of Paul Jones, and did all they could to prevent him from obtaining his commission. The summer and most of the winter of 1778 passed away, and Paul Jones was still waiting for his ship. He began to wish he had gone to America. Some wealthy men offered him a ship if he would take charge of a trading expedition for them. To do this, he must give up his commission in the American navy, and so Paul Jones said, "As a servant of the republic of America, I cannot serve either myself or my best friends, unless the honor of America is the first object." During these months of waiting, his only weapon was his pen. He wrote letters of appeal to all persons of influence, to Congress, and also to the king of France. [Illustration] IX.--THE BON HOMME RICHARD. One day, when Paul Jones was reading "Poor Richard's Almanac," written by Dr. Franklin, he found a paragraph which set him to thinking. It was: "_If you would have your business done, go; if not_, SEND." He sent no more letters, but went at once to the French court and pleaded his case there in person. As a result, he was soon after made commander of a vessel which he named the _Bon Homme Richard_, which means _Poor Richard_. He did this out of gratitude to Dr. Franklin. The _Bon Homme Richard_ was an old trading vessel, poorly fitted out for war. But after his long months of waiting, Paul Jones was thankful even for this. He was also given command of four smaller vessels. One of these, the _Alliance_, had, for captain, a Frenchman named Pierre Landais, who was afterwards the cause of much trouble. Paul Jones was ordered to cruise with his small squadron along the west coast of Ireland and to capture all the English merchant vessels he could find. [Illustration: RICHARD DALE.] The officer next in command to Paul Jones was Lieutenant Richard Dale, who has since been remembered not only for his bravery during that famous cruise, but for his service to the country at a later period. On the 14th of August, 1779, the ships put to sea. When they reached the southern point of Ireland, one of the four small vessels was left behind and deserted. Cruising northward, the squadron soon captured two valuable prizes. Without asking the permission of Paul Jones, Captain Landais sent these captured vessels to Norway. On the way, they were taken by the Danes, who returned them to England. The value of these prizes, thus lost through Captain Landais, was about £40,000, or nearly $200,000. The squadron sailed round the north of Scotland, and down the eastern coast until it came to the Firth of Forth. Here was the town of Leith, and in its harbor lay some English war vessels. Paul Jones wished to capture these. The winds were favorable, and a landing could easily have been made but for Captain Landais. Paul Jones spent a whole night persuading this troublesome captain to help him. It was only with a promise of money that he at last succeeded. But in the morning the winds were contrary. That day the _Richard_ captured an English merchant ship. The captain promised Paul Jones that if he would allow his vessel to go free, he would pilot the squadron into the harbor. The people, seeing the fleet piloted by the English vessel, supposed the visit to be a friendly one. So they sent a boat out to the _Richard_, asking for powder and shot to defend the town from the visit of "Paul Jones the pirate." Jones sent back a barrel of powder with the message that he had no suitable shot. It was not until the vessels were nearing the harbor that the object of the visit was suspected. The people, in their fright, ran to the house of the minister. He had helped them when in trouble at other times, and could surely do something now. The good man, with his flock following him, ran to the beach, where he made a strange prayer. He told the Lord that the people there were very poor, and that the wind was bringing to the shore that "vile pirate," Paul Jones, who would burn their houses and take away even their clothes. "I canna think of it! I canna think of it! I have long been a faithful servant to ye, O Lord. But gin ye dinna turn the wind aboot and blaw the scoundrel out of our gates, I'll nae stir a foot, but will just sit here till the tide comes in." Just then a violent gale sprang up, and by the time it had abated the squadron had been driven so far out to sea that the plan was given up. Long afterward, the good minister would often say, "I prayed, but the Lord sent the wind." X.--THE GREAT FIGHT WITH THE SERAPIS. Paul Jones next cruised up and down the eastern coast of England, trying to capture some merchant ships that were bound for London. About noon, on September 23, 1779, he saw not far from the shore an English fleet, sailing from the north. It was convoyed by two new war ships, the _Serapis_ and the _Countess of Scarborough_. Paul Jones at once signaled to his ships to form in line of battle. Captain Landais disobeyed. The sight of the American squadron seemed to cause confusion in the English fleet. They let fly their top gallant sails and fired many signals. The _Serapis_ and the _Countess_ drew up in line of battle and waited for the enemy, while the merchant ships ran into port. It was a clear, calm afternoon. The sea was like a polished mirror, with scarcely a ripple on its surface. The vessels approached each other so slowly that they scarcely seemed to move. The decks had all been cleared for action, and the captains were full of impatience. Word had gone from town to town along the shore, that a great battle was soon to be fought. The people along the shore gathered on the high cliffs, eagerly hoping to see the dreaded Paul Jones crushed forever. The sun had gone down behind the hills before the ships were within speaking distance of each other. The harvest moon came up, full and clear, and shed a soft light over the dreadful battle that followed. Captain Landais, when he disobeyed Paul Jones' order to join in line of battle, spread the sails of the _Alliance_, and went quickly toward the enemy as though to make an attack. But when very near to where the _Serapis_ lay, he changed his course, and sailed away to a place where the battle could be seen without harm. About half-past seven in the evening, the _Richard_ rounded to on the side of the _Serapis_ within pistol-shot. Captain Pearson of the _Serapis_ hailed, saying: "What ship is that?" The answer came: "I can't hear what you say." Captain Pearson repeated: "What ship is that? Answer at once or I shall fire." Paul Jones' reply was a shot. This was followed by a broadside from each vessel. At this first fire, two of the guns in the lower battery of the _Richard_ burst. The explosion tore up the decks, and killed many men. The two vessels now began pouring broadsides into each other. The _Richard_ was old and rotten, and these shots caused her to leak badly. Captain Pearson saw this, and hailed, saying, "Has your ship struck?" The bold reply came: "I have not yet begun to fight." Paul Jones saw, that, as the _Serapis_ was so much the better ship of the two, his only hope lay in getting the vessels so close together that the men could board the _Serapis_ from the _Richard_. All this time the vessels had been sailing in the same direction, crossing and re-crossing each other's course. Finally Paul Jones ran the _Richard_ across the bow of the _Serapis_. The anchor of the _Serapis_ caught in the stern of the _Richard_ and became firmly fastened there. As the vessels were swung around by the tide, the sides came together. The spars and rigging were entangled and remained so until the close of the engagement. With the muzzles of the guns almost touching, the firing began. The effect was terrible. Paul Jones, who had only two guns that could be used on the starboard side, grappled with the _Serapis_. With the help of a few men, he brought over a larboard gun, and these three were all that he used during the rest of the battle. Meanwhile the other ships of the American squadron did strange things. The _Pallas_, alone, did her duty. In a half hour she had captured the _Countess of Scarborough_. The _Vengeance_ simply sailed for the nearest harbor. Worst of all was the conduct of Captain Landais and his ship _Alliance_. For a while he looked quietly on as though he were umpire. At 9:30 o'clock he came along the larboard side of the _Richard_ so that she was between him and the enemy. Then he deliberately fired into her, killing many men. Many voices cried out that he was firing into the wrong ship. He seemed not to hear, for, until the battle was over, his firing continued. The _Poor Richard_ had an enemy on each side. Paul Jones sent some men up the masts and into the rigging to throw hand-grenades, or bombs, among the enemy. One of these set fire to some cartridges on the deck of the _Serapis_. This caused a terrible explosion, disabling all the men at the guns in that part of the ship. Twenty of them were killed outright. By this time so much water had leaked into the _Richard_ that she was settling. A sailor, seeing this, set up the cry: "Quarter! quarter! Our ship is sinking!" Captain Pearson, hearing the cry, sent his men to board the _Richard_. Paul Jones, with a pike in his hand, headed a party of his men similarly armed, and drove the English back. Some of the _Richard's_ men ran below and set the prisoners free. There were more than a hundred of them. One of these prisoners climbed through the port holes into the _Serapis_. He told Captain Pearson that if he would hold out a little longer, the _Richard_ would either sink or strike. Poor Paul Jones was now in a hard place. His ship was sinking. More than a hundred prisoners were running about the decks, and they, with the crew, were shouting for quarter. His own ship, the _Alliance_, was hurling shots at him from the other side. Everywhere was confusion. But he, alone, was undismayed. He shouted to the prisoners to go below to the pumps or they would be quickly drowned. He ordered the crew to their places. He himself never left the three guns that could still be fired. At half-past ten o'clock, the _Serapis_ surrendered. [Illustration: THE SERAPIS AND THE BON HOMME RICHARD.] When Captain Pearson gave his sword to Paul Jones, he said it was very hard to surrender to a man who had fought "with a halter around his neck." Paul Jones replied, "Sir! You have fought like a hero. I hope your king will reward you." This battle had lasted for three hours and a half. It has since been known in history as one of the greatest victories ever won upon the seas. The _Serapis_ and the _Countess_ were both new ships, one of forty guns and the other of twenty. The crews were well-drilled Englishmen. Everything was against the _Richard_, and the victory was due alone to the great courage and will of its commander. When the fight was over, Paul Jones separated the ships and set the sails of the _Richard_. All night every sailor was busy fighting the fire which raged on both ships. When daylight showed to Captain Pearson the wreck of the _Richard_, he was sorry he had surrendered. Her rudder was gone and her rotten timbers were split into pieces. Some of the shots had passed entirely through her. Paul Jones wished to take her into port to show how desperately he had fought, but this was out of the question. By nine o'clock the sailors abandoned her, and at ten she suddenly went down. Repairing the _Serapis_ as best he could, Paul Jones took her and the _Countess of Scarborough_, with his unfaithful fleet, to Holland. XI.--HONOR TO THE HERO. After this great victory, Paul Jones was everywhere received as a hero. The king of France presented him with a gold sword. He also sent word, through his minister, that, with the consent of Congress, he would make Paul Jones a Knight of the Order of Military Merit. To avoid delay, the gold cross of the order had been sent to the French minister in America, who would present it to Paul Jones when permission to accept it had been received from Congress. The hero traveled about in Holland and France, from city to city, enjoying his great triumph. Crowds of people were everywhere eager to see him, and a word with him was thought to be a great honor. The most serious fault in the character of Paul Jones was his vanity. He had always been very fond of praise and glory, and now his longings were partly satisfied by all this homage. Dr. Franklin wrote him a letter, praising him for his bravery. He thanked him, most of all, for the prisoners he had captured. There were so many of them that, by exchange, every American, held by the English, could be set at liberty. While Paul Jones was enjoying this praise, Captain Landais was going about also, claiming for himself the glory for the capture of the _Serapis_, and trying to make people believe that he was the real hero. When Dr. Franklin heard from the sailors how he had fired upon the _Richard_, he ordered him to Paris to be tried. During the next year, Paul Jones made a few short cruises, but accomplished nothing more than the taking of a few prizes. At this time the army of George Washington was sorely in need of clothing and military supplies. Word was sent to Dr. Franklin to buy them in France and send them to America by Paul Jones. Fifteen thousand muskets, with powder, and one hundred and twenty bales of cloth, were bought and stored in the _Alliance_ and the _Ariel_. Dr. Franklin told Paul Jones to sail with these goods at once. This was early in the year 1780. The summer came and passed away, and the ships were still anchored in the French harbor. Paul Jones gave excuse after excuse until the patience of Dr. Franklin was about gone. Captain Landais had been one cause of the delay. Instead of going to Paris for trial, as Franklin had ordered, he had gone back to the _Alliance_ to stir up mutiny against Paul Jones. He caused one trouble after another and disobeyed every order. Finally, by intrigue, he took command of the _Alliance_ and sailed to America. But Captain Landais never again troubled Paul Jones. His reception in America was not what he had expected. Instead of being regarded as a hero, he was judged insane, and dismissed from the navy. A small share of prize money was afterward paid to him. On this he lived until eighty-seven years of age, when he died in Brooklyn, New York. Another reason Paul Jones gave for his delay in France was that he wished to get the prize money due for the capture of the _Serapis_, and pay the sailors. This gave him an excuse to linger about the courts where he could receive more of the homage he loved so well. Then, too, he spent much time in getting letters and certificates of his bravery from the king and the ministers. He wished to show these to Congress when he should arrive in America. Finally, one day in October, he set sail in the _Ariel_. He had not gone far when a furious gale forced him to return to port for safety. For three months longer he waited, hoping still for the prize money that was due. One day he gave a grand fête on his ship. Flags floated from every mast. Pink silk curtains hung from awnings to the decks. These were decorated with mirrors, pictures, and flowers. The company invited were men and women of high rank. When all was ready, Paul Jones sent his boats ashore to bring them on board. He, himself, dressed in full uniform, received them and conducted them to their seats on the deck. At three o'clock they sat down to an elaborate dinner which lasted until sunset. At eight o'clock, as the moon rose, a mock battle of the _Richard_ and the _Serapis_ was given. There was much noise from the firing of guns, and a great blaze of light from the rockets that were sent up. The effect was beautiful, but the din was such that the ladies were frightened. At the end of an hour this display was ended. After a dance on the deck, the officers rowed the company back to the shore. XII.--THE RETURN TO AMERICA. On the 18th of December, 1780, nearly a year after he had received his orders, Jones sailed for America. He arrived in Philadelphia on February 18th, 1781. When Congress inquired into the cause of his long delay, he gave explanations which seemed to be satisfactory. Resolutions of thanks were passed, and permission given to the French minister to present the Cross of Military Merit, which had been sent by the French king. This cross was presented with great ceremony, and it was ever after a source of much pride to Paul Jones. He wore it upon all occasions and loved to be called Chevalier. During the following year Paul Jones superintended the construction of a new war ship, the _America_, which was being built by Congress. This was the largest seventy-four gun ship in the world, and he was to be her captain. Once more Paul Jones was disappointed. Before the _America_ was finished, Congress decided to give her to France. She was to replace a French vessel, which had been lost while in the American service. Paul Jones was again without a ship. As he could not bear to be idle, he spent the time until the close of the war, with a French fleet, cruising among the West Indies. As soon as he heard that peace was declared between England and America, he left the French fleet and returned to America. He arrived in Philadelphia in May, 1783. Now that the war was over, and there was no more fighting to be done, Paul Jones thought that the best thing for him to do was to get the prize money still due from the French government for the vessels he had captured. For this purpose, he soon returned to France. After many delays the money, amounting to nearly $30,000, was paid to him. It was to be divided among the officers and crews of the ships which he had commanded. Paul Jones came again to America in 1787 to attend to the final division of this money. [Illustration] While in this country, Congress ordered a gold medal to be presented to him for his services during the war. XIII.--AMBITIOUS HOPES. You remember that, during the war, Captain Landais had sent two valuable ships to Norway, and so caused the loss of much prize money. Denmark had taken these ships, by force, and given them back to England. Paul Jones determined to go to Denmark to try to induce that country to pay for these ships. In November, 1787, he left America for the last time. On the way to Denmark, he stopped in Paris. Here he heard some news which pleased him very much. For some time Russia had been at war with Turkey, and the Russian navy had lately met with several disasters on the Black Sea. The Russian minister in Paris had heard a great deal about the hero, Paul Jones. So he sent word to the Empress Catherine, who was then the ruler of Russia, that if she would give Paul Jones the command of the Russian fleet, "all Constantinople would tremble in less than a year." When Paul Jones heard that this message had gone to Russia, he was sure that a chance would come to win still more glory and fame. He was more anxious than before to go to Copenhagen, the capital of Denmark. He would then be nearer to Russia and could more quickly answer the summons of the empress. He was not disappointed in this. He was in Copenhagen but a few weeks, when he received the offer of a position in the Russian navy, with the rank of rear-admiral. He gave up the hope of the prize money, and started in April, 1788, for St. Petersburg. The story of his trip to Russia shows what a fearless man he was. No danger was too great for him to brave, in order to accomplish any purpose he had in mind. In order to reach St. Petersburg with the least delay, he went to Stockholm, Sweden. Here he took an open boat and crossed the Baltic Sea, which was full of floating ice. He did not let the boatmen know of his intentions until they were well out at sea. Then, pistol in hand, he compelled the unwilling men to steer for the Russian shore. For four days and nights they were out in the open boats, carefully steering through the ice, and many times barely escaping death. When, at last, they arrived safely at a Russian port on the Gulf of Finland, he rewarded the boatmen and gave them a new boat and provisions for their return. Scarcely would any one believe the story, as such a trip had never been made before, and was thought to be impossible. He hurried on to St. Petersburg, where he was warmly welcomed. The story of his trip across the Baltic, added to other tales of his bravery, caused the empress to show him many favors. XIV.--SAD DISAPPOINTMENTS. After a few days in St. Petersburg, Paul Jones hurried on to the Black Sea to take command of his fleet. But he again met with disappointments. He was not given the command of the whole fleet, as he had expected. Instead, he was given only half, Prince Nassau commanding the remainder. Both of these men were under a still higher authority, Prince Potemkin. Potemkin was as fond of glory as was Paul Jones. He and Nassau were both jealous of the foreigner, and Potemkin finally succeeded in having Paul Jones recalled to St. Petersburg. He arrived there, full of sorrow, because he had achieved no fame. More trouble was in store for him. Some jealous conspirators so blackened his character that the empress would not allow him to appear at court. Even after proving his innocence to the satisfaction of the empress, he could not regain his former position. About this time his health began to fail. Sick, both in body and mind, he went back to Paris in 1790, having been in Russia about eighteen months. It was nearly a year afterward, before he gave up all hope of regaining a position in the Russian service. When the empress refused him this, he quietly waited for death. This occurred on the 18th of July, 1792, in his lodgings in Paris. His pride and love of titles had left him. He told his friends that he wished no longer to be called Admiral or Chevalier. He wished to be simply a "citizen of the United States." The National Assembly of France decreed him a public funeral, and many of the greatest men of the time followed his body to the tomb. The place of his burial has been forgotten. The most enduring monument to his memory is to be found in the grateful recollections of his countrymen. The name of Paul Jones, the first naval hero of America, will not be forgotten so long as the stars and stripes float over the sea. THE STORY OF OLIVER HAZARD PERRY [Illustration: Oliver Hazard Perry] THE STORY OF OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. I.--HOW THE PERRY FAMILY CAME TO RHODE ISLAND. A very long time ago, there lived in England a young Quaker whose name was Edmund Perry. At that time the Quakers were much persecuted. They were a quiet and peace-loving people, and would not serve in the army. They had their own religious meetings, and refused to pay money for the support of the Church of England. For these reasons, they were imprisoned, beaten, and driven from their homes. Edmund Perry believed that the Quakers were right, and he could not endure these persecutions. So, in 1650, he came to America to live. Thirty years before that time, a company of Pilgrims had left England because they also wished to be free to worship God as they chose. They had founded a colony at Plymouth, which is now in the state of Massachusetts. Edmund Perry thought that in this settlement of Pilgrims he could surely live peaceably in the enjoyment of his own belief. He did not stay long in Plymouth, however. His Quaker religion was hated there, as it had been in England; and the Pilgrims did not wish to have any one in their colony who did not agree with them. Not far from Plymouth was the colony of Rhode Island, which had been founded by Roger Williams. Roger Williams declared that a man is responsible for his opinions only to God and his own conscience, and that no one has any right to punish him for his belief. The people in the Rhode Island colony did not quarrel with one another about religion, but lived together in peace. Edmund Perry thought that this was the place where he could make a home for himself and his family. He therefore purchased a large tract of land on the shores of Narragansett Bay, near what is now the site of South Kingston. Here he lived for the rest of his life, at peace with all about him, even his Indian neighbors. His descendants also lived in this neighborhood. Among them were judges, lawyers, and doctors, as well as farmers and mechanics; and they were always highly respected in the colony. Christopher Raymond Perry, a great-great-grandson of Edmund Perry, was born in December, 1761. At that time there were thirteen colonies or great settlements of English people at different places along the Atlantic coast of what is now the United States. But troubles had already begun to brew between the people of these colonies and the king of England. These troubles finally led to the Revolutionary War. Christopher Perry, although a mere boy, was one of the first persons in Rhode Island to offer himself for this war. He joined a company of volunteers known as the "Kingston Reds"; but soon afterwards left the army and entered the navy. Here he served, having many adventures, until the close of the war, in 1783. He had become very fond of a sailor's life, and when there was no more use for him in the navy he obtained a place on a merchant vessel, and went on a cruise to Ireland. During the homeward voyage he became acquainted with one of the passengers, a beautiful girl of Scotch descent, whose name was Sara Alexander. Soon after their arrival in America, their friendship ripened into love, and in 1784 they were married in Philadelphia. Christopher Perry, though but twenty-three years of age, was then the captain of a vessel. The young couple went to live with Christopher's father, on the old Perry estate in South Kingston. This was then a farm of two hundred acres. The old homestead stood at the foot of a hill not far from the Narragansett shore. Through the trees in a neighboring wood, shone the white stones which marked the graves of the Quaker, Edmund Perry, and many of his children and grandchildren. The Perry family were glad to welcome Christopher's young wife into their home. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful; and her sweet and happy disposition made every one love her. Christopher Perry gave up his life on the sea for a time, and many happy months were spent in the old home. On the 23d of August, 1785, their first baby boy was born. He was named for an uncle and a great-great-grandfather, Oliver Hazard Perry. II.--SCHOOL DAYS. Oliver was a winsome baby and he grew strong and beautiful very fast. Every one loved him, for he thought all strangers were friends, and was never afraid of them. Indeed he was not afraid of anything, for to him there was no danger. We shall see that he kept this same fearlessness all through his life. When he was three years old, he was playing one day with an older child, in the road near his grandfather's house. A man was seen coming rapidly towards them on horseback. The elder child ran out of the way, calling to Oliver to do the same. The little fellow sat quite still, however, until the horse was nearly upon him. As the horseman drew rein, Oliver looked up into his face and said, "Man, you will not ride over me, will you?" [Illustration: CHILDHOOD HOME OF OLIVER PERRY.] The gentleman, who was a friend of the family's, carried him into the house, and told the story. When scarcely more than a baby, Oliver sat upon his mother's knee, while she taught him letters and words. It was not long before he could read quite well. By the time he was five years old, there were two other babies to keep the beautiful, loving mother busy. So it was thought best to send Oliver to school. Not far from the Perrys', there lived an old gentleman whom the people loved because of his goodness of heart. As there was no school near by, he had often been asked to teach the neighborhood children. The good old man was notoriously lazy, and consented upon one condition--that he should be allowed to have a bed in the schoolroom. Teachers were few in those days, and, since there was no one else, the bed was set up. How amusing it must have been to see the children standing about the master's bed and reciting their lessons! It was to this strange school that little Oliver was first sent. Some girl cousins lived on the adjoining farm. Though they were all older than he, it was Oliver's duty, each day, to take them to and from school. No one, not even the other scholars, thought this at all strange. His dignified manners always made him seem older than he really was. One day his mother told him that he was old enough to go to school at Tower Hill, a place four miles away. Boys and girls would now think that a long way to go to school; but Oliver and his cousins did not mind the walk through the woods and over the hills. The master of this school was so old that he had once taught Oliver's grandfather. He was not lazy, however, and was never known to lose his temper. It was not long until a change was made and Oliver was taken away from "old master Kelly." For several years past, Oliver's father had been again on the sea. He had commanded vessels on successful voyages to Europe and South America, and now he had a large income. He was therefore able to pay for better teaching for Oliver and the younger children. So the family moved from South Kingston to Newport, a larger town, with better schools. At first Oliver did not like the change. The discipline was much more strict than it had been in the little country schools. His teacher, Mr. Frazer, had one serious fault. He had a violent temper which was not always controlled. One day he became angry at Oliver and broke a ruler over his head. Without a word, Oliver took his hat and went home. He told his mother that he would never go back. The wise mother said nothing until the next morning. Then, giving him a note for Mr. Frazer, she told him to go to school as usual. The proud boy's lip quivered and tears were in his eyes, but he never thought of disobeying his mother. The note he carried was a kind one, telling Mr. Frazer that she intrusted Oliver to his care again and hoped that she would not have cause to regret it. After this Oliver had no better friend than Mr. Frazer. On holidays they walked together to the seashore and spent many hours wandering along the beach. The schoolmaster took great delight in teaching Oliver the rules of navigation, and the use of the instruments necessary for sailing a vessel. Oliver learned these things so readily that it was not long until Mr. Frazer said he was the best navigator in Rhode Island. This, of course, was not strictly true, but it showed what an apt scholar the boy was. Oliver made many friends in Newport. Among them was the Frenchman, Count Rochambeau. The father of this man was a great general, and had once commanded some French troops who helped the Americans in the Revolutionary War. Count Rochambeau often invited Oliver to dine with him, and one day he gave him a beautiful little watch. When Oliver was twelve years old, his father gave up his life on the sea. The family then moved to Westerly, a little village in the southwestern part of Rhode Island. For five years Oliver had been a faithful pupil of Mr. Frazer's, and he was now far advanced for his years. III.--PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. About this time some unexpected troubles arose in our country. France and England had been at war for years. The French were anxious that America should join in the quarrel; and when they could not bring this about by persuasion, they tried to use force. French cruisers were sent to the American shores to capture merchant vessels while on their way to foreign ports. You may be sure that this roused the people from one end of the United States to the other. Preparations for war with France were begun; and the first great need was a better navy. At the close of the Revolutionary War, all work on government vessels had been stopped. Those that were unfinished were sold to shipping merchants. Even the ships of war that had done such good service, were sold to foreign countries. In this way, the entire American navy passed out of existence. But now the President, John Adams, went to work to establish a navy that should give protection to American commerce. In the spring of 1798, a naval department was organized, with Benjamin Stoddert as the first Secretary of the Navy. The following summer was busy with active preparations. Six new frigates were built, and to these were added a number of other vessels of various kinds. Captain Christopher Perry was given command of one of the new frigates that were being built at Warren, a small town near Bristol, Rhode Island. This vessel was to be called the _General Greene_. In order to superintend the building of this vessel, Captain Perry, with his wife, left his quiet home in Westerly, and went to stay in Warren. Oliver, then not quite thirteen years old, remained at home to take charge of the family. He saw that his sister and brothers went to school regularly. He bought all the family provisions. Each day he wrote to his father and mother, telling them about home affairs. In the meantime, he was busily planning what his work in life should be. His mother had taught him that a man must be brave, and always ready to serve his country. She had told him many stories of battles fought long ago in her native land across the sea. Oliver had lived most of his life in sight of the sea, and had spent many hours with seamen. It is not strange, therefore, that he should decide,--"I wish to be a captain like my father." He had heard of the troubles with France, and he longed to help defend his country. And so at last he wrote to his father, asking permission to enter the navy. It was a manly letter, telling all his reasons for his choice. The consent was readily given, and Oliver soon afterward received an appointment as midshipman on his father's vessel, the _General Greene_. IV.--THE CRUISE IN THE WEST INDIES. In the meantime, the people grew more eager for war. An army had been raised to drive back the French, should they attempt to invade the land. George Washington, though nearly sixty-seven years of age, had been appointed commander in chief of the American forces. In February, 1799, one of the new frigates, the _Constellation_, under Captain Truxton, defeated and captured a French frigate of equal size. By spring the _General Greene_ was completed, and Captain Perry was ordered to sail for the West Indies. [Illustration: CAPT. THOMAS TRUXTON.] America had large trading interests with those islands. Many of our merchant vessels brought from there large cargoes of fruits, coffee, and spices. The _General Greene_ was ordered to protect these cargoes from the French cruisers, and bring them safely into port. For several months Captain Perry's vessel convoyed ships between Cuba and the United States. In July, some of the sailors on board were sick with yellow fever. So Captain Perry brought the vessel back to Newport. Oliver went at once to see his mother. The tall lad in his bright uniform was a hero to all the children in the neighborhood. His brothers and sister considered it an honor to wait upon him. They would go out in the early morning and pick berries for his breakfast, so that he might have them with the dew upon them. While on shipboard he had learned to play a little on the flute. The children loved to sit about him, and listen to his music. By the autumn of 1799, the crew of the _General Greene_ were well again, and Captain Perry sailed back to Havana. It was during the following winter months of cruising with his father, that Oliver was taught his lessons of naval honor. He also applied the lessons in navigation which he had learned from Mr. Frazer. He read and studied very carefully, and could not have had a better teacher than his father. While the _General Greene_ was cruising among the West Indies, Captain Truxton had won another victory with his _Constellation_. This time he captured a French frigate which carried sixteen guns more than the _Constellation_. The French, dismayed at these victories of the Americans, began to be more civil. They even seemed anxious for peace. [Illustration: THE CONSTELLATION.] War had been carried on for about a year, though it had never been formally declared. In May, 1800, the _General Greene_ came back to Newport, and remained in harbor until the terms of peace were concluded. The trouble with France being settled, it was decided by the government to dispose of nearly all the naval vessels. As a result, many of the captains and midshipmen were dismissed, Captain Perry being one of the number. Fortunately for the country, young Oliver was retained as midshipman. V.--THE WAR WITH THE BARBARY STATES. On the northern coast of Africa, bordering on the Mediterranean Sea, are four countries known as the Barbary States. These are Tunis, Algiers, Tripoli, and Morocco. For more than four hundred years, these countries had been making a business of sea-robbery. Their pirate vessels had seized and plundered the ships of other nations, and the captured officers and men were sold into slavery. Instead of resisting these robbers, most of the nations had found it easier to pay vast sums of money to the Barbary rulers to obtain protection for their commerce. The Americans had begun in this way, and had made presents of money and goods to Algiers and Tunis. Then the ruler of Tripoli, called the Bashaw, informed our government that he would wait six months for a handsome present from us. If it did not come then, he would declare war against the United States. [Illustration: COMMODORE CHARLES MORRIS.] This did not frighten the Americans at all. Their only reply was to send a fleet of four ships to the Mediterranean. The intention was to force the Bashaw to make a treaty which should insure safety for our ships. This squadron did not do much but blockade the ports of Tripoli. A year later, in 1802, a larger squadron was fitted out to bring the Bashaw to terms. Commodore Morris was the commander. On one of the vessels, the _Adams_, was Oliver Perry as midshipman. Soon after the arrival of his ship in the Mediterranean, Oliver celebrated his seventeenth birthday. The captain of the _Adams_ was very fond of him, and succeeded in having him appointed lieutenant on that day. For a year and a half, the squadron of Commodore Morris cruised about the Mediterranean. No great battles were fought and no great victories were won. The _Adams_ stopped at the coast towns of Spain, France, and Italy. Through the kindness of the captain, Oliver was often allowed to go on shore and visit the places of interest. Commodore Morris, being recalled to America, sailed thither in the _Adams_; and so it happened that in November, 1803, Oliver Perry arrived again in America. His father was then living in Newport, and Oliver remained at home until July of the next year. He spent much of his time in studying mathematics and astronomy. He liked to go out among the young people, and his pleasing manners and good looks made him a general favorite. He was fond of music and could play the flute very skillfully. When not studying, he liked most of all to ride horses, and fence with a sword. While Lieutenant Perry was spending this time at home, the war in the Mediterranean was still being carried on. Commodore Preble, who had succeeded Commodore Morris, had won many brilliant victories. The most daring feat of all this war was accomplished by Stephen Decatur, a young lieutenant only twenty-three years old. One of the largest of the American vessels, the _Philadelphia_, had, by accident, been grounded on a reef. Taking advantage of her helpless condition, the whole Tripolitan fleet opened fire upon her. Captain Bainbridge, the commander of the _Philadelphia_, was obliged to surrender. The Tripolitans managed to float the vessel off the reef, and towed her into the harbor. Captain Bainbridge, although a prisoner, found means to send word of his misfortune to Commodore Preble, who was then at Malta, and the American fleet at once sailed for Tripoli. At the suggestion of Captain Bainbridge, the Americans determined to burn the _Philadelphia_, rather than allow the Tripolitans to keep her. This was a very dangerous undertaking, as the vessel was anchored in the midst of the Tripolitan fleet. It was also within easy range of the guns of the fort, commanding the harbor. The task was given to Stephen Decatur. In order to deceive the enemy, he took a small boat which had been captured from them a short time before. Its crew was made up of volunteers, for the chances of escape were very few. [Illustration: STEPHEN DECATUR.] Under cover of night, the little vessel sailed into the harbor, and, as if by accident, ran into the _Philadelphia_. Before the Tripolitans realized what had happened, Decatur and his men were climbing over the sides of the vessel and through the port holes. [Illustration: BURNING OF THE PHILADELPHIA.] Decatur had ordered his men to use no firearms. He did not wish to attract the attention of the Tripolitans who were in the fort and on the other vessels in the harbor. A desperate hand to hand fight ensued. In a few minutes the Americans were in possession of the vessel. Some of the Tripolitan crew had been killed; others had jumped into the sea. The Americans then set the _Philadelphia_ on fire and jumped into their boat to escape. Lieutenant Decatur was the last one to leave the burning ship. The situation of the little band was now desperate. The _Philadelphia_ was a mass of flames, lighting up the harbor for miles around. Decatur's little boat could be plainly seen, and all the vessels and forts opened fire on it. But the Tripolitans were too much excited to do serious damage. In a short time the fire reached the magazine of the _Philadelphia_ and she blew up with a tremendous crash, leaving the harbor in darkness. Decatur and his men escaped with but one man wounded. This is only one of many deeds of bravery done in this war, but we can not tell of them in this story. Lieutenant Perry, in his home in America, heard of them, and longed to be on the scene of action. He was very glad when, in the following September, he was ordered to return in the _Constellation_ to the Mediterranean. The American fleet in the Mediterranean was by this time so large that the Bashaw was convinced that the Americans were in earnest. He was glad to make a treaty of peace and release the prisoners on payment of a small ransom. In October, 1806, Oliver Perry returned to America. He was greatly disappointed that he had not been able to take a more active part in the war. He spent most of the next two years in Newport, dividing his time between study and his many friends. VI.--MORE TROUBLE WITH ENGLAND. While America was having these troubles with the Barbary States, France and England were still at war. Commerce all over the world was affected, and in some cases almost destroyed by this long war. The French emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte, had forbidden all vessels of other nations to enter British ports. The English, in turn, said that no vessel should enter a port of France, or of any country belonging to France. But the Americans had to endure still further injuries from the English. British war vessels claimed the right to stop American ships on the sea, search them, and carry off American sailors, claiming them as deserters from the English navy. The French could not do this; for no American sailor could be accused of being a runaway Frenchman. In 1807, an event took place which nearly led to war. The British frigate _Leopard_, cruising along the coast, hailed the American frigate _Chesapeake_, and demanded permission to search the ship. The captain of the _Chesapeake_ refused. Without a word of warning, the _Leopard_ fired into the _Chesapeake_, killing and wounding more than twenty men. The American captain had not dreamed of such an outrage. His vessel had just put to sea and everything was in confusion. He did not even have a gun in condition to return the fire. So he lowered his flag and surrendered. The officers of the _Leopard_ then came on board and carried off four men from the crew. The United States would have declared war at once if England had not apologized. The President, at this time, was Thomas Jefferson. He was a man of peace. He called a session of Congress to see if the trouble could not be settled without war. As a result of this session, a law was passed known as the Embargo Act. By this law, no vessel was allowed to sail from the United States to any foreign country. In order to enforce the law, Congress ordered a number of gunboats to be built. These were to sail up and down the coast, and prevent any vessel from entering or leaving the ports. Lieutenant Perry was ordered to superintend the building of a fleet of these gunboats at Newport. After they were built, he was put in command of them, and ordered to patrol Long Island Sound. At this time, the government wanted a map of the harbors in the neighborhood of Newport. On account of his standing as a seaman, and of his education, Lieutenant Perry was selected to visit the harbors and make such a map. He was given a fast sailing schooner called the _Revenge_. While carrying on this work, he was one day returning from Newport to New London, when a dense fog came on. The _Revenge_ struck upon a reef of rocks, and went to pieces. By great efforts Lieutenant Perry was able to save, not only all the crew, but the sails, rigging, and cannon. He then went to Washington to explain the loss of the _Revenge_ to the navy department. It was made clear that it was the fault of the local pilot who had charge of the vessel at the time. Lieutenant Perry was commended for his gallant conduct in this disaster, and was also granted a year's leave of absence. He went to Newport, and on May 5, 1811, he was married to Elizabeth Champlin Mason. The young couple took a wedding journey through New England. They spent one day in Plymouth, Massachusetts. Lieutenant Perry was much interested in visiting the place where his Quaker ancestor had lived so many years before. During this time, the people of the United States had learned that the Embargo Act was a very unwise law. The men of Congress had thought to injure France and England by thus refusing to trade with them altogether. They soon discovered, however, that the damage to American commerce was far greater. Trading vessels in the ports were left standing idle at the wharves, while the sailors were forced to find other employment. [Illustration: JAMES MADISON.] All over the country, there arose a bitter feeling against this law. In the New England states, where there were the largest shipping interests, there was even talk of secession from the Union. About this time a new President, James Madison, was elected. Soon afterward the Embargo Act was repealed, and in its place was passed a law which satisfied the people for a time. By this law, trade was allowed with every country but England and France. American vessels now put to sea on voyages to foreign lands. But their old enemies, the English, soon began to annoy them as before. In May, 1811, the British sloop _Little Belt_ was hailed by the American frigate _President_, under the command of Commodore Rodgers. The reply was a cannon shot. The _President_ then poured broadsides into the _Little Belt_. After the English had lost thirty-two men in killed and wounded, they came to terms. [Illustration: COMMODORE JOHN RODGERS.] The American people now saw that war could no longer be avoided. On June 18, 1812, the formal declaration was made. VII.--WAR ON THE CANADIAN BORDER. Up to this time the English navy had been called the "Mistress of the Seas." England's vessels could be numbered by the hundred, and the crews by the ten thousand. When this war of 1812 was declared, the entire United States navy comprised about half a dozen frigates, and six or eight sloops and brigs. Along the American coast alone the English had seven times this number of war vessels. The first few months of the war were full of naval surprises. In that brief time the Americans captured more British ships than the French had taken in twenty years. On August 19th, the American frigate _Constitution_, commanded by Captain Isaac Hull, in one half hour captured the English frigate _Guerrière_. The English lost one hundred men, and the vessel was so disabled that she was left to sink. The Americans lost but fourteen men, and in a few hours the ship was ready for another battle. Several other victories followed in quick succession. In all this time the Americans did not lose a ship. In December, Commodore Bainbridge, the same officer who had been taken prisoner years before by the Tripolitans and had afterwards been promoted, was cruising with the frigate _Constitution_ off the coast of Brazil. He there encountered and captured the British frigate _Java_. But though so successful on the sea, the Americans were defeated many times on land. The possession of the Great Lakes was of the utmost importance to both the English and the Americans. Ever since the Revolution the English had kept a naval force on these lakes. They had hoped that some time they might be able to extend the Canadian territory along the Great Lakes and down the Mississippi to New Orleans. This would give them the possession of the great west. Many prosperous towns and trading posts were scattered along the Canadian shores. To capture some of these was the task given to the American army. The campaign was opened by General William Hull. With two thousand men he crossed the Detroit River, and marched into Canada. After a few skirmishes with the Indians, he fell back to the fort at Detroit. Then, without firing a single gun, he gave up this fort to the English. This surrender was a great loss to the Americans for many reasons. There was, in the west, a bold Indian warrior whose name was Tecumseh. He had a brother whom the Indians called the Prophet, because he was a medicine man and could do wonderful things. [Illustration: TECUMSEH.] These two Indians wished to form a union of all the tribes from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. They hoped that in this way they might prevent the white settlers from taking their hunting grounds. "The white men are continually driving the red people toward the west; by and by we shall be driven into the Great Water," they said. The governor-general of Canada made the Indians many promises, and tried to incite them against the United States. In this way he persuaded many warlike tribes to give aid to the English. Tecumseh himself crossed into Canada and joined the British army under General Proctor. After Hull's surrender of Detroit, the British and Indians took possession not only of that fort, but also of Fort Dearborn, where Chicago now stands. The territory of Michigan was completely in their hands, and the settlers along the lakes and all through the northwest were at the mercy of the Indians. [Illustration: WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON.] General William Henry Harrison tried to regain Detroit. His advance guard was met and defeated at the River Raisin, a few miles south of Detroit. Every American prisoner was murdered by the Indians; and for years afterward the River Raisin was a name of horror. The Americans felt that something desperate must be done. The first great thing to be gained was the control of the lakes. At this time nearly the whole of the western country was a wilderness. The only way of moving men and supplies from place to place, was by the use of boats on the lakes and water courses. On Lake Ontario a small fleet had been built, and a skirmish or two had been fought. But the thing of most importance was the control of Lake Erie. This would not only give back Detroit to the Americans, but would also be the means of recovering the whole of the Michigan territory. The task of building a fleet and driving the English from the lakes was given to Lieutenant Perry. At the beginning of the war he had left his quiet home in Newport, and had hurried to Washington to ask for active service. He was promised the first vacancy, but in the meantime he was ordered to protect the harbors of Long Island Sound with a flotilla of gunboats. During the year 1812 he performed this duty faithfully, all the while drilling his men, in hopes of being intrusted with a larger responsibility. VIII.--OLIVER PERRY BUILDS A FLEET. In February, 1813, Lieutenant Perry was ordered to go to Lake Erie. He was to take with him, from his gunboats, the men whom he thought best fitted for the service and report to Commodore Chauncey, who was in command of the squadron on Lake Ontario. The American headquarters, on that lake, were at Sacketts Harbor. It was almost impossible to reach the place. From the Hudson River to the shores of Lake Ontario, was a vast wilderness. No road had been cut through it; none but Indians could follow the difficult trails. The only route known to the white men was along the Mohawk River to Lake Oneida, then by the Oswego River to the little village of Oswego on Lake Ontario. To transport men and arms along this route was a great task, requiring much time, skill, and patience. Oliver Perry was a man of action. On the very day that he received his orders, he started fifty men to Lake Ontario, and the next day fifty more. [Illustration] On February 22d, in the coldest part of winter, he left his home and his young wife in Newport, and with his brother Alexander, began the difficult journey towards the north. Sometimes they traveled in rude sleighs over the roughest of roads. Sometimes, when the river was not too full of ice, they embarked in canoes. At other times, they could only go on foot through the thick underbrush. On all sides was a vast wilderness, inhabited only by wild beasts and unfriendly Indians. At Oswego, they embarked in boats and followed the shore of Lake Ontario to Sacketts Harbor. On one side of them was the dreary inland sea full of tossing white caps and overhung by the leaden sky of winter. On the other side lay the trackless forest. To relieve their loneliness, they occasionally fired a musket. The echoes would roll along the shore, growing fainter and fainter. This only made the silence which followed seem greater than before. A cold rain began to fall, and by the time they reached Sacketts Harbor they were drenched to the skin. On March 16th, Lieutenant Perry set out for Lake Erie. Upon reaching the harbor at Erie he found that twenty-five ship carpenters had already begun work on three gunboats and two brigs. Fifty more carpenters had started four weeks before from Philadelphia, but had not yet arrived. The task which lay before Oliver Perry seemed almost an impossible one. Mechanics, seamen, guns, sailcloth,--everything needed for the ships must be brought hundreds of miles through a wild and half-settled country. But by the end of the summer, a fleet, which seemed to have been built by magic, was ready to meet the English. Six months before, the timbers used in building the vessels had been growing trees; the iron that held these timbers together was either in the mines or in warehouses or farmers' barns, in the shape of plowshares, axes, or horseshoes. The shipbuilders had come through the wilderness from Philadelphia. The guns, ammunition, and rigging had been brought in ox-wagons, hundreds of miles over almost impassable roads. While Perry was building this fleet, a sad event had taken place on the sea. The British frigate _Shannon_ met and captured the American frigate _Chesapeake_, June 1, 1813, near Boston harbor. [Illustration: CAPTAIN JAMES LAWRENCE.] Captain Lawrence of the _Chesapeake_ fought bravely, but, in the battle, was mortally wounded. As he was being carried below, his last words were: "Don't give up the ship!" The Secretary of the Navy sent word to Lieutenant Perry to name one of the vessels of his new fleet the _Lawrence_, after this gallant captain. Lieutenant Perry therefore gave this name to his flagship. By the 10th of July the fleet was ready for sea, but there were only officers and men enough to man one ship. Several of these were ill with fever. Lieutenant Perry wrote many letters to General Harrison, Commodore Chauncey, and the Secretary of the Navy. "Give me men, and I will acquire both for you and for myself honor and glory on this lake, or die in the attempt," he said. By the end of July he had over four hundred men for his nine vessels. But, as he said, they were a "motley crew" of regular soldiers, negroes, and raw recruits. During the battle which followed, over a hundred of these men were too sick to be of any use. The English fleet of six vessels was commanded by Captain Barclay. In his crews were over five hundred men and boys. IX.--"WE HAVE MET THE ENEMY AND THEY ARE OURS." Early in August the American squadron left the harbor of Erie, and sailed to Put-in-Bay, an island not far from the west end of the lake. The British squadron was in the harbor of Fort Malden, nearly opposite on the Canadian shore. On the morning of September 10, 1813, from the masthead of the _Lawrence_, the English fleet was seen approaching. As the Americans were sailing out to battle, Lieutenant Perry gathered his men together and talked to them about the courage they would need. He showed them a large blue flag, bearing in white letters a foot high the words: "Don't give up the ship!" "My brave lads," he said, "this flag bears the last words of Captain Lawrence. Shall I hoist it?" With one voice, the men shouted: "Aye, aye, sir!" As the bunting was run up on the _Lawrence_, cheer upon cheer came from every vessel of the American squadron. The men were then sent to their quarters, and every one quietly waited for the beginning of battle. It was a beautiful morning. The sky was cloudless, and there was hardly a ripple to disturb the lake. The English vessels were newly painted, and gayly adorned with flags. Every sail shone in dazzling whiteness in the sunlight. At half-past ten a bugle was heard from the English flagship, which was followed by cheers from the other vessels. Across the water the Americans could hear the strains of the English national air played by a band. On the _Lawrence_ all was still. With determined faces the men stood by the guns. Lieutenant Perry knew that a great responsibility was upon him. He knew that, should he lose the battle, General Proctor and Tecumseh, with five thousand soldiers and Indians, were ready to cross the lake, and take possession of the southern shore. All through that part of the country, anxious men, women, and children were waiting to flee from their homes, if the dreaded Indians came upon them. These things Lieutenant Perry knew. He passed along the deck, carefully examining every gun. He had a word of encouragement for each gun crew. Seeing some of the men who had fought on the _Constitution_, he said, "I need not say anything to you. You know how to beat those fellows." As he passed another gun, commanded by a crew that had served in his gunboat flotilla, he said: "Here are the Newport boys! They will do their duty, I warrant." In this way he filled all his men with a great earnestness, and a determination to conquer or die. While the two squadrons were yet a mile apart, the English sent a cannon ball skimming over the water. For some time there followed a vigorous firing from both sides. As the English guns could carry farther than those of the Americans, Lieutenant Perry brought his flagship into close quarters. The other American vessels were some distance behind. The whole British squadron then opened fire upon the _Lawrence_. At the end of an hour of this unequal battle, the condition of the _Lawrence_ was pitiable. One by one the guns had been disabled. Finally only one on the side toward the enemy could be used. The rigging was damaged, the spars were shattered, and the sails were torn into shreds. Eighty-three men had been killed or wounded. Two musket balls passed through Lieutenant Perry's hat, and his clothing was torn by flying splinters. One heavy shot crushed into the large china closet, and smashed every dish with a great clatter. A dog, that had been locked up there, startled by the noise, added to the tumult by howling dismally. Several times the _Lawrence_ barely escaped being blown up. Two cannon balls passed entirely through the powder magazine. Even the wounded men crawled upon the deck to lend a feeble hand in firing the guns. It was Oliver Perry himself, however, that loaded and fired the last gun of the _Lawrence_. Lieutenant Perry at last determined to change his flag from the _Lawrence_ to the _Niagara_. A breeze had sprung up, which enabled this vessel to come near to the helpless _Lawrence_. The first lieutenant was left in command of the _Lawrence_, with orders to hold out to the last. Then with his brother Alexander and four seamen, Lieutenant Perry got into a rowboat. Just as they were shoving off, a seaman on the _Lawrence_ hauled down the blue flag, bearing the motto, "Don't give up the ship!" He rolled it up and tossed it to Perry. The smoke of the battle was so dense that the rowboat had nearly reached the _Niagara_ before it was seen by the English. Then a shot was sent which went straight through the boat's side. Taking off his coat and rolling it up, Perry quickly thrust it into the hole which the ball had made. This kept the boat from sinking. As he stepped upon the deck of the _Niagara_, Perry ordered the blue flag to be hoisted. Just at this moment the _Lawrence_ surrendered. [Illustration: THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE.] The English gave a cheer, thinking they had won the battle. They were not able, however, to board and take the _Lawrence_ at once, and so she drifted away. When safely out of range her colors were rehoisted. Bringing the _Niagara_ into position, Lieutenant Perry fired a terrific broadside into one of the English vessels. Then he sailed quickly to another and did the same thing. The other American vessels followed this example, and a terrific battle followed. In just fifteen minutes the English surrendered. Two vessels of their squadron attempted to escape, but were soon overtaken and captured. Lieutenant Perry was determined that the formal surrender should take place on the _Lawrence_. So once more he lowered his flag, and jumping into a boat, made for his first flagship. When he stepped on board the _Lawrence_ not a cheer was heard. The handful of men that were left silently greeted their commander. Few of them were uninjured. Some had splintered arms and legs. Others had bandages about their heads. Their faces were black with powder. The English officers came on board to present their swords to Perry. With quiet dignity he returned each one. He then took from his pocket an old letter. Using his cap for a desk, he wrote with a pencil his famous dispatch to General Harrison: "We have met the enemy and they are ours. Two ships, two brigs, one schooner, and one sloop. Yours, with very great respect and esteem, "O.H. PERRY." X.--WHAT PERRY'S VICTORY ACCOMPLISHED. The battle on Lake Erie was the beginning of the end of the war. The news of the victory caused great rejoicings all over the country. In all the principal towns there were meetings, bonfires, and torchlight processions. General Harrison could now take his army into Canada. No time was lost. He hurried over four thousand men to the lake, where Perry's fleet waited to take them across. The main body of the British army, under General Proctor and Tecumseh, was at Fort Malden. Upon landing there the Americans found that the enemy had fled, having burned the forts, barracks, and stores. General Harrison followed the English up the left bank of the Detroit River. The fort at Detroit was surrendered without any resistance, and the English retreated along the St. Clair Lake and up the Thames River. The Americans steadily pursued them. Perry, with his fleet, followed the army, carrying the baggage and provisions. He became so excited over the chase that he could not remain quietly on his ships. So, leaving them in charge of one of his officers, he went ashore and offered his services to General Harrison as aid-de-camp. As he joined the army he was met with cheers of welcome from the soldiers. General Harrison afterward said: "The appearance of the gallant Perry cheered and animated every soldier." Following the English some distance up the Thames, the Americans finally overtook them. They were drawn up in line of battle on a narrow strip of land which lay between the river and a large swamp. The American cavalry made a bold dash through these lines, and the enemy was soon routed. Over sixty British and Indians were killed, and six hundred troops were made prisoners. General Proctor made his escape, but Tecumseh was killed. The death of this great chief severed forever the tie which bound the Indians to the English. Soon afterwards all the tribes of the northwest declared submission to the United States. The white settlers in the region about the Great Lakes were thus freed from their fear of the savages. During the battle of the Thames, the soldiers greatly admired the fine horsemanship of Oliver Perry. He rode a powerful black horse, with a white face, that could be seen from all parts of the field. Once, when riding swiftly to carry out some orders of the general's, the horse plunged into the deep mire to his breast. Perry pressed his hands on the pommel of the saddle, and sprang over the horse's head to dry ground. Relieved from the weight of his rider, the horse freed himself and bounded forward. Perry clutched the mane as he passed and vaulted into the saddle, without stopping the animal's speed for a moment. As he passed the soldiers, many cheers arose. On October 7, 1813, Perry returned to Detroit, and from there started back to his home in Newport. The people hailed him with joy, and enough could not be said in his praises. Even Captain Barclay of the English fleet called him "The gallant and generous enemy." His journey to Newport was indeed a triumphal one. In every town that he passed through, business was stopped and the schools were closed so that all could have a glimpse of the hero of Lake Erie. Processions accompanied him from town to town. On November 18th, he reached his home in Newport. Bells were rung, all the ships were adorned with flags, and salutes were fired in his honor. [Illustration: GOLD MEDAL AWARDED BY CONGRESS.] On November 29th, he received his promotion to the rank of captain. At that time this was the highest rank in the American navy. A gold medal was also given to him by Congress. In the following January he made a visit to Washington, where he was publicly entertained by the President and citizens. In August, 1814, he was ordered to command a new frigate named the _Java_. He hastened to Baltimore, where this vessel was to be launched. On the 11th of September, Lieutenant Macdonough, who was in command of the American squadron on Lake Champlain, gained a decisive victory over the British near Plattsburg. Everything at the North seemed now to be favorable to the Americans; but it was not so at the South. While Captain Perry was waiting at Baltimore, the British had sailed up the Potomac with an army and a fleet. They captured Washington, and burned the capitol, the White House, and some of the other public buildings. Being so successful in this, they made a like attempt upon Baltimore, but were driven back. They then blockaded Chesapeake Bay. Just at this time, Congress passed a bill to fit out two squadrons of fast-sailing vessels. These were to cruise near the English coasts and destroy the commerce between the different ports. Captain Perry was ordered to leave the _Java_ and command one of these squadrons. But before he could sail for England, peace was declared. A treaty with that country was signed December 24, 1814. XI.--ON THE MEDITERRANEAN AGAIN. While the United States had been at war with England, trouble had again arisen with the Barbary States. None of these countries had been so annoying as Algiers. The ruler, or Dey, of Algiers knew that every American naval vessel was busy fighting the English. He therefore thought this a good time to burn and plunder the merchant ships. He also demanded large sums of money in return for his captured prizes and prisoners. But no sooner was peace concluded with England, than Congress declared war with Algiers. A squadron was sent to the Mediterranean, commanded by the brave Stephen Decatur, and he soon compelled the Dey to sign a treaty with the United States. In this treaty the Dey promised to give back all the American property he had captured. If there was anything that he could not return, he was to pay for it at its full value. He was also to release all the Americans he held as prisoners, and give up, forever, all claim to tribute money from the United States. When the consuls of other countries heard of what Decatur had accomplished, they tried to persuade the Algerine ruler to make the same terms with them. Then the Dey was sorry that he had "humbled himself" before the young republic, and he declared that he did not consider the treaty binding. Congress therefore thought it wise to strengthen the American squadron in the Mediterranean, in order that this trouble should be settled. Captain Perry was ordered to take the _Java_ and sail at once for Algiers. On January 22, 1816, he set sail, and in March he joined the American vessels off the eastern coast of Spain. Upon arriving at Algiers, they found that the Dey had just received a large amount of tribute money from an English fleet. This made him very unwilling to talk about treaties. The English fleet had not only brought money to pay for the release of English prisoners, but also had brought vast sums from the governments of Naples and Sardinia to buy the freedom of their enslaved countrymen. Twelve hundred captives were freed in this way, and put aboard the English vessels. There were people of all ages, clothed in rags. Some had been taken while young and now were old men, with gray hair and beards. The Dey refused to treat with the American commander, and the Americans would have destroyed the Algerian fleet and bombarded the town at once, but for an article in the treaty which Decatur had made. This article stated that when either side should become dissatisfied with the treaty, three months' notice should be given before actual fighting began. While waiting for these three months to pass, the American squadron cruised about the Mediterranean and visited the other Barbary States. The commander wished to show the rulers of these states that our country had a navy which could protect our commerce. After this the fleet sailed along the southern coast of Europe. There was no vessel which attracted more admiration than Captain Perry's _Java_. To visit this ship was, indeed, a pleasure. The captain was a courteous host, and always made his guests welcome. Everything on the ship was in order, and ready for instant use. The discipline of the crew was perfect. Being a good musician himself, Captain Perry had the finest band in all the fleet. He took a personal interest in each one of his men, and was always ready with a word of praise when he saw it was deserved. He gave the midshipmen lessons in navigation, and saw that they had lessons in Spanish and French and in the use of the sword. They were even taught to dance. Whenever it was possible the men were allowed to go on shore, in order that they might visit the places of interest. By January, 1817, the Dey of Algiers finally came to terms and signed a new treaty, agreeing to the conditions required by the United States. Captain Perry was soon afterwards ordered to sail for America, carrying this new treaty with him. In March he arrived at Newport. XII.--CAPTAIN PERRY'S LAST CRUISE. After so many months of cruising, Captain Perry was very glad to be again in his own country. He spent the next two years quietly at home with his family. He built a snug little cottage in Narragansett, on the old Perry estate. This was the same farm that had been purchased by the young Quaker, Edmund Perry, so many years before. Here the family spent the summers. Captain Perry was always fond of life in the country. He took many long rides on horseback. Besides his horses, he had many other pets on the farm. He and his three little sons spent a great deal of time taking care of them. The winters were passed in the house at Newport. [Illustration: CAPTAIN PERRY'S RESIDENCE AT NEWPORT.] These were the happiest years of Oliver Perry's life, and he could not help but be sorry, when, on March 31, 1819, he received a summons to go to Washington. Upon arriving there, the Secretary of the Navy told him of an expedition that the government wished him to undertake. He was to go to Venezuela, on the northern coast of South America. This was a new republic which had formerly been a colony of Spain. Its people were still fighting for their independence, just as the people of the United States had fought against the king of England. Small, fast-sailing war vessels, called privateers, had been fitted out by this republic. These vessels were designed to capture Spanish merchant ships, and were allowed to keep all the money that was obtained from the prizes. But it was not the Spanish ships alone which suffered from these privateers. The desire for prize money led them to attack ships of other nations. The American merchants had met with many losses in this way. Captain Perry was to present claims for these losses, and also to persuade the president of Venezuela to keep his privateers from preying on American commerce. For this expedition, Perry was to have two vessels, the sloop _John Adams_ and the schooner _Nonsuch_. On July 15, 1819, he arrived at the mouth of the Orinoco River. Here he was obliged to take the small schooner in order to go up the river and reach the town of Angostura, which was then the Venezuelan capital. He sent the _John Adams_ to Port Spain, on the island of Trinidad, one hundred and fifty miles away. This vessel was ordered to wait there for his return. The voyage up the Orinoco was an interesting one. All along the shores were vast tropical forests with overhanging trees full of birds of brilliant colors. Luxuriant vines were festooned from limb to limb. Flowers of all colors grew everywhere. On the other hand, the trip was full of hardships. The heat was fearful and the sand-flies, gnats, and mosquitoes were almost unbearable. Soon after reaching Angostura many of the crew were taken ill with yellow fever, but Perry would not leave until his mission was accomplished. After three weeks of delay, he succeeded in getting the promises for which he had come. The schooner then sailed down the river, reaching the mouth on August 15th. On account of a high sea, to cross the bar that night would be a dangerous undertaking, and the vessel was therefore anchored until morning. During the night, the wind freshened so much that the spray dashed into the cabin where Captain Perry was sleeping. In the morning he awoke with a cold chill and symptoms of yellow fever. Every effort was made to reach the _John Adams_ as soon as possible. Captain Perry grew rapidly worse. In the intense heat, his little schooner cabin was most uncomfortable. The winds were unfavorable and the progress of the little vessel was slow. When within a mile of the _John Adams_, Captain Perry died. This was on his thirty-fourth birthday, August 23, 1819. He was buried on the island of Trinidad with military honors, and the _John Adams_ brought back the sad news to the United States. His death was regarded as a national calamity. The government sent a war vessel to bring his body home. He was finally laid to rest at Newport, where a granite monument marks his grave. The feelings of his fellow officers were well expressed by Stephen Decatur. Upon hearing of Perry's death, he said: "Sir! The American navy has lost its brightest ornament!" THE STORY OF ADMIRAL FARRAGUT [Illustration: D.E. Farragut] THE STORY OF ADMIRAL FARRAGUT. I.--CHILDHOOD. On July 5, 1801, in a rude cabin in Eastern Tennessee, David Glasgow Farragut was born. It was a wild and lonely place. For miles around the little farm, nothing could be seen but woods. Few sounds could be heard save the singing of birds and sometimes the cries of wild beasts. There was already one child in the family, a boy, whose name was William. George Farragut, the father, was a brave man. He was a Spaniard, and had come to America during the Revolutionary War. He was a lover of liberty, and for that reason he had taken up arms with the colonists to help them win their independence from England. After the close of the war, he had married a hardy frontier girl, and had come to this wild place to make his home. His life on the little clearing in the backwoods was one of toil and frequent hardships. Every day he was busy chopping down trees, planting crops, or hunting in the great forest. The young wife, Elizabeth, was also busy, keeping her house and spinning and making the clothes for herself, her husband, and her children. Little David Farragut grew strong very fast. He and William had no playmates, but they liked to run about under the trees. They could not go far from the cabin, however, as there were both wild beasts and Indians in the woods. Sometimes the father would be away for several days, hunting wild game for the family to eat. At such times, the mother and children would be left alone. One day a band of Indians came and tried to enter the cabin. The mother sent the boys into the loft, where they crouched down close to the roof and kept very still. Then, for hours, she guarded the door with an axe, until, at last, something frightened the Indians and they went away. When little David was about seven years old, his father was appointed by the government to command a gunboat on the Mississippi. As his headquarters were to be at New Orleans, the family moved to a plantation on the banks of Lake Pontchartrain. This lake is near the city. When not on duty on the gunboat, George Farragut was very fond of sailing on the lake. He had a little sailboat in which he would take the children, even in severe storms. Sometimes the weather would be so bad that they couldn't come home; and then they would sleep all night on the shore of some island. The father would wrap the children in a sail, or cover them with dry sand to keep them warm. One day a neighbor told him that it was dangerous to take the children on such trips. George Farragut replied, "Now is the time to conquer their fears." When fishing in the lake one morning, George Farragut saw a boat in which there was an old man all alone. Pulling alongside, he found that the stranger had become unconscious from the heat of the sun. He was taken to the Farragut home, and, although he was nursed for some time with the greatest of care and everything was done for him that could be done, yet he grew no better. Finally Mrs. Farragut also was taken very ill, and in a few days both she and the stranger she had nursed so tenderly, died. This was a sad day for the family of George Farragut. Not long after the funeral, a stranger called at the Farragut house. He said that his name was David Porter and that he was the son of the old gentleman who had died there. He thanked George Farragut for his kindness to his father, and offered to adopt one of the Farragut boys. There were now five children in the family, and David's father was very glad to accept this offer. The oldest son, William, already had a commission as midshipman in the navy, and so it was decided that David should be the one to go. Captain Porter was at that time the commander of the naval station at New Orleans. His handsome uniform, with its belt and shining buttons, seemed very attractive to little David, and he was eager to go with his new guardian. David spent a few months with the Porter family in New Orleans. Then Captain Porter took him to Washington and placed him in school there. One day David was introduced to a great man, the Secretary of the Navy. He asked the boy many questions, and was so pleased with his intelligent answers that he said to him, "My boy, when you are ten years old I shall make you a midshipman in the navy." This was a proud moment for little David Farragut. The great man did not forget his promise. The appointment came six months before the time that was named. It was arranged that the lad should go with Captain Porter in the frigate _Essex_. It was several months, however, before the vessel was ready to sail. In the meantime, David attended a school in Chester, Pennsylvania. II.--THE LITTLE MIDSHIPMAN. For a long time England had been at war with France. British men-of-war and privateers were in the habit of attacking any vessel going to or from the ports of France. More than this, the British government claimed the right to search American vessels to see whether any English sailors were on board. Nor was this the worst. Numbers of American seamen were falsely accused of being English deserters, and every year many were taken from their own vessels and forced to serve on British ships. The Americans tried to induce the British government to cease this unjust treatment. They tried to settle the matter peaceably, but the British were haughty and overbearing and would not agree to give up any of their claims. On June 18, 1812, things had gone so far that our country was obliged to declare war against Great Britain. A squadron was fitted out and ordered to cruise along the Atlantic coast, in order to protect American vessels from the British. Captain Porter's vessel, the _Essex_, was to be one of this fleet. It was not ready, however, to sail with the others; but orders were given that it should follow as soon as possible and join the squadron in the Atlantic. If Captain Porter could not find the squadron, he was to do whatever he thought best. On October 28, 1812, the _Essex_ sailed down the Delaware River, and through the bay into the ocean. There was a pennant flying from the mast-head on which were the words, "Free Trade and Sailors' Rights." It was for these things that Captain Porter was ready to fight. By his side stood the little midshipman, David Farragut, in his shining uniform. There was no prouder boy in all America than he was on that day. [Illustration: CAPTAIN DAVID PORTER.] For several months, Captain Porter cruised about the Atlantic. He captured several English vessels, and then, as he could not find the American squadron, he decided to make a trip around Cape Horn, and cruise in the Pacific. The passage around Cape Horn is one of the most dangerous in the world, but Captain Porter was not afraid. The _Essex_ was one of the best ships in the navy, and the crew had been drilled very thoroughly. Sometimes Captain Porter sounded a false alarm of fire on shipboard. This was to test the courage of the men and prepare them for accidents. Sometimes he even caused a smoke to be made. The sailors soon became so accustomed to a cry of "Fire" that it caused no confusion. The courage of the crew was severely tried in going around Cape Horn. The weather was bitterly cold, and for twenty-one days the ship was buffeted by furious storms. By this time the provisions were almost gone. Each man had but a small daily allowance of bread and water. Little David Farragut was having his first real experience as a sailor. From Cape Horn, Captain Porter sailed north along the west coast of South America, and stopped at an island near the coast of Chili. The sailors went on shore with their guns and killed some wild hogs and horses. They were in such need of fresh meat that they ate even the flesh of the horses with great relish. For months the _Essex_ cruised about in the beautiful Pacific. Captain Porter captured several English vessels, and warned American whaling-ships of danger. Some of these had been at sea for many months and had not heard of the war. Sometimes the _Essex_ would stop at an island, and the crew would go on shore to kill seals; sometimes they would anchor in shallow bays and fish for cod. On one solitary island there was a strange postoffice, a box nailed to a tree. Here passing vessels would leave messages and letters, to be taken up by other vessels that chanced to be going in the right direction. The _Essex_ stopped at this island for some time. The crew found prickly pears to eat. They killed pigeons, which the cook made into pies, and they made soup of the turtles they caught. Those were great days for David Farragut. The _Essex_ finally left this island in May, 1813. Soon more English vessels were sighted and captured. One of these was to be taken to Valparaiso, and Captain Porter put David Farragut in charge of it. The young commander was then but twelve years of age. The gray-haired English captain was very angry at having to take orders from a boy. He tried to ignore David, and when he failed in this, attempted to frighten him. He threatened to shoot any man who obeyed David's orders, and went below for his pistols. David knew that the American sailors were loyal to him. So he sent word to the captain that if he did not obey, he would have him thrown overboard. After this there was no more trouble. David brought the vessel into the port of Valparaiso in safety. He soon afterward rejoined the _Essex_. Captain Porter now decided to go to some islands far out in the Pacific, where he could refit the ship. As the _Essex_ approached one of these islands, she was met by a canoe filled with natives. The bodies of these people were tattooed, and they were gayly ornamented with feathers. They invited the sailors on shore, and promised to give them fruit and provisions. During the six weeks that were occupied in refitting the ship, the sailors rested on the island. David and the other boys of the crew were given lessons by the ship's chaplain each day, and when school hours were over, they were allowed to visit the islanders. The young natives taught the American boys many things. They showed them how to walk on stilts, and how to use a spear skillfully and with ease. Best of all, they taught them how to swim. The people of this island could swim as easily as they could walk. Even the babies could float in the water like ducks. The _Essex_ left this island in December, 1813, and sailed for Valparaiso. III.--THE LOSS OF THE ESSEX. One day in the following February, two English war vessels appeared in the harbor of Valparaiso. The _Essex_ was lying quietly at anchor, and many of her crew were on shore. The British vessels bore down upon the _Essex_ in a very hostile manner. Captain Porter was afraid they would attack him. They had no right to do this, for Chili was not at war with either England or America. One of these British vessels was a frigate called the _Phoebe_. The other was a sloop named the _Cherub_. The _Phoebe_ approached the _Essex_ until she was within fifteen feet of her side. Captain Porter, standing on the deck, hailed, saying: "If you touch a single yardarm, I shall board you instantly!" The _Phoebe_ passed by with no reply. After this, the British vessels anchored at the entrance of the harbor. They could thus keep the _Essex_ a prisoner. The vessels remained in this position for several weeks. On the 28th of March, a furious gale sprang up. The cables of the _Essex_ gave way, and she began to drift out toward the English vessels. Captain Porter now made a desperate effort to escape. He set all sails and made for the open sea. Suddenly something snapped. The main top-mast came crashing down, carrying sails, rigging, and some of the crew into the water. In this disabled condition escape was impossible. The _Essex_ was driven toward the shore and was finally brought to anchor within pistol shot of the beach. The _Essex_ had but four guns that would shoot as far as the cannon of the English. The _Phoebe_ and the _Cherub_ took a position out of range of nearly all the _Essex_ guns, and then poured broadside after broadside into the unfortunate vessel. Captain Porter and his gallant crew fought against these odds until one hundred and twenty-four of the men had been killed or wounded. Then the _Essex_ surrendered. During all this dreadful battle there was no braver officer than the little midshipman, David Farragut. Sometimes he was carrying messages for the captain; again, he was bringing powder for the guns. Once when going down the hatchway a wounded man fell upon him. David barely escaped being crushed to death. Captain Porter was so pleased with his conduct that he mentioned his bravery in his official dispatches to the government. After the surrender the wounded were removed to shore. David offered his services to the surgeons. He worked early and late, preparing bandages and waiting upon the injured men. In speaking of this afterward, he said, "I never earned Uncle Sam's money so faithfully." The British put all the American prisoners on board an unarmed vessel, and made them promise that they would not take up arms against the English until they had been exchanged for an equal number of English prisoners. After this the Americans were allowed to sail for the United States. They arrived in the harbor of New York on July 7, 1814. IV.--THE TRIP ON THE MEDITERRANEAN. Although a prisoner of war, David Farragut was glad to get back to the United States. While waiting to be exchanged he attended a school in Chester, Pennsylvania. It was a strange school. The pupils had no books. The teacher, Mr. Neif, told them the things he wished them to learn, and the boys wrote them down in notebooks. They would sometimes be examined on these notes to see whether they had paid proper attention. In the afternoons, Mr. Neif would take the boys for long walks. They made collections of minerals and plants, and learned many curious and useful facts about them. Mr. Neif, who had been a soldier, gave the boys military drill. He also taught them to swim and climb. David Farragut was not a handsome boy. But people liked to look at him, for his face was honest and good. He was short for his years, but he stood very erect, and held his head as high as he could. "I cannot afford to lose any of my inches," he said. In November, 1814, the British and the Americans made an exchange of prisoners, and David Farragut was now free to return to the navy. As a treaty of peace was made a few weeks later, he did not have to serve against the British. During the next two years, David made but one short cruise. He was quartered, the rest of the time, on a receiving ship. This is a vessel stationed at the navy yards, where recruits are first received into the service. In the spring of 1816, David went on a cruise that proved to be most interesting. He was ordered to the _Washington_, a beautiful new ship of seventy-four guns. This was to carry the American minister to Naples, in Italy. While waiting at Annapolis for the minister they had a visit from the President, James Madison. Among his suite was Captain Porter, who was then a naval commissioner. He came to say good-bye to David. The voyage across the Atlantic was one to be remembered. The captain was very proud of his "crack" ship. He kept the crew so busy cleaning decks and scouring "bright work," that sometimes they had no food for eight hours at a time. Once all the crew were kept on deck for several nights in succession. During the summer months, the _Washington_ cruised about the Mediterranean, stopping at many places. This was a wonderful experience for David. He visited the bay of Naples. The great volcano, Vesuvius, was then in eruption, and the sight of this alone was worth the voyage. While in the bay, the king of Naples and the emperor of Austria made a visit to the _Washington_, and a grand display was made to entertain them. The _Washington_ stopped at the coast towns of Tunis, Tripoli, and Algiers, and finally wintered in a Spanish harbor. The Spaniards were very kind to the captain. They allowed him to use their navy yard, in which to refit his vessel. During all this cruise, the boys on the ship were taught by the chaplain, Mr. Folsom. He was very fond of David, and in the autumn of 1817, when he was appointed consul to Tunis, he wrote to the captain of the _Washington_ for permission to take David with him. This request was granted, and David spent a delightful year with his old friend. He studied mathematics and English literature. He also learned to speak French and Italian. He and Mr. Folsom took many trips about the Mediterranean, and these were of great benefit to him. In October, 1818, he returned to the _Washington_, in which he cruised for another year. V.--WAR WITH THE PIRATES. While David Farragut was at a port in the Mediterranean, he was summoned to America to take his examination for the lieutenancy. He was then eighteen years of age. In November, 1820, he arrived in New York, where he passed his examination successfully. He did not receive any appointment, however, for some time, as there were no vacancies in the navy. The next two years were spent with the Porter family at Norfolk, Virginia. In 1822, he sailed for a short time on a sloop of war, that was cruising about the Gulf of Mexico. On his return to America, he learned that Captain Porter was fitting out a fleet to cruise against the pirates of the West Indies. These robbers had small, fast-sailing ships. They would attack unarmed merchant vessels, seize all the valuables they could carry away, and destroy the remainder. Sometimes they killed the crew; at other times they put them ashore on some desert island. For years, Americans and English had been waging war against these pirates, but without success. With their small boats the robbers would run into the shallow bays and creeks, where no other vessels could follow them; and so they had grown bolder and bolder every year. Ever since peace had been declared with England, Captain Porter had been a commissioner of the navy, and had made no sea voyages. But now he offered to resign his position, and drive the pirates from the sea. He said he would do this upon one condition. He must have a fleet of small vessels that could follow the pirates into their lurking places. The government accepted his offer, and gave him orders to fit out such a fleet as he chose. He bought eight small schooners similar to those used by the pirates. To these were added five large rowboats or barges, which were called the Mosquito Fleet. David Farragut was assigned to one of the vessels named the _Greyhound_. This fleet of Captain Porter's had many encounters with the pirates. At one time, when the _Greyhound_ was off the southern coast of Cuba, some of the crew went on shore to hunt game, and were fired upon from the thicket by pirates. The Americans returned this fire without effect, and then went back to their ship. Young Farragut was ordered to take a party of men to capture the pirates, and at three o'clock the next morning they set out in the barges. After landing, David and his men tried to go around to a point at the rear of the place where the pirates were supposed to be. This was no easy thing to do. They had to cut their way through thickets of cactus, thorny bushes, and trailing vines. Their shoes were cut from their feet with walking over the sharp rocks; and the heat was so intense that some of the men fainted. At last they found the pirate camp. It was deserted. The robbers had seen the _Greyhound_ and the barges, and had fled to some other hiding place. In the camp, which was protected by several cannon, there were some houses a hundred feet long. There was also an immense cave filled with all kinds of goods taken from plundered vessels. The sailors burned the houses, and carried the plunder and cannon to their boats. The prize that David himself took away was a monkey, which he had captured after a fierce struggle. As the sailors were returning to their boats, they heard a great noise in the thicket behind them, and thought that the pirates had come back to attack them. David Farragut made a speech to his men. He urged them to stand their ground and fight bravely. Imagine their surprise and amusement at finding their foes to be thousands of land crabs, making their way through the briars! This was only one of many encounters that the Mosquito Fleet had with the pirates. Through all the time, the American sailors suffered much from yellow fever and exposure. David Farragut afterward said: "I never owned a bed during my cruise in the West Indies, but lay down to rest wherever I found the most comfortable berth." The pirates were finally driven from the seas. Their boats were burned or captured, and their camps destroyed. While on this cruise, David got leave of absence to visit his sister in New Orleans. She was the only one of the family still living at the old home. It was hard for her to recognize in the stranger the boy who had left home so long before. When young Farragut was on his way to the north and within sight of Washington, he was taken ill with yellow fever. He had nursed many a poor sailor, and had hitherto escaped the disease. After a short time spent in a Washington hospital, he was able to return home. Soon afterward, he was married in Norfolk, Virginia, to Susan Marchant. But it was nearly two years before he was entirely well, and strong enough to resume his duties in the navy. In the meanwhile, he and his bride spent much time with the family of Captain Porter. VI.--FROM LIEUTENANT TO CAPTAIN. In August, 1825, David Farragut at last received his commission as lieutenant. He was ordered on board the ship _Brandywine_, the vessel which was to have the honor of taking the Marquis de Lafayette to France. This great Frenchman had always been a warm friend of the United States. Fifty years before, he had taken a leading part in the Revolutionary War, and had been one of General Washington's most trusted officers. After the Revolution, he had returned to his home in sunny France. He had always loved America, and in his old age he felt that he would like to visit again the great nation which he had helped to establish. So in 1824, though old and gray, he had come back to America as the honored guest of the nation. From one end of the land to the other, his tour had been one grand ovation. And now that he was to return home, the good ship _Brandywine_ was detailed to carry him safely across the Atlantic. [Illustration: LAFAYETTE.] The voyage was an uneventful one for Lieutenant Farragut. After landing Lafayette in France, the _Brandywine_ cruised about the shores of England and in the waters of the Mediterranean for about a year. On his return to America, Lieutenant Farragut found that his wife was in very poor health, and he obtained leave of absence from the navy, in order that he might take her to a famous doctor in New Haven, Connecticut. During his stay in that city, he regularly attended the lectures at Yale College, for David Farragut never wasted an opportunity for self-improvement. When his wife was better, they returned to Norfolk, where he was placed in charge of the receiving ship in the navy yard. Most of the boys on the ship were uneducated and did not know one letter from another. Lieutenant Farragut therefore established a school on board. This proved to be of great value to these poor boys. One boy had run away from home to avoid going to school, and he was determined that he would not study. It was only after many severe punishments that he was conquered. When once started in the right direction, he learned rapidly. One day, seven years afterward, a fine-looking, well-dressed man stopped David Farragut on the street. On being asked his name, the stranger replied, "I have grown probably a foot since we parted, but do you not remember the boy who once gave you so much trouble?" "Oh yes," said Farragut, "but I should never have recognized him in you." "Nevertheless," said the stranger, "I am the same, and am ready to acknowledge you the greatest benefactor and friend I ever had in this world of trouble." After leaving the receiving ship, Lieutenant Farragut spent the next ten years in short cruises along the South American coast and about the Gulf of Mexico. During all this time his wife was an invalid, and her health continued to fail until her death in 1840. For two years before her death, Lieutenant Farragut was at home on leave of absence. He could then be constantly with her and wait upon her. In speaking of his devotion to his wife, a lady in Norfolk said: "When Lieutenant Farragut dies, every woman in the city should bring a stone, and build for him a monument reaching to the skies." In 1841 promotion came to Farragut, and he received a commission as commander in the navy. In 1845, the state of Texas was annexed to the United States. This brought about a dispute with Mexico concerning the southwestern boundary of the state, and the result was a short war, in which the Americans were victorious. Commander Farragut was very anxious to serve his country in this Mexican War, and wrote many letters to the Navy Department, asking for the command of a ship. For a long time he waited in vain. When, at last, a vessel was assigned to him, it was too late for him to do his country any service. The war was about over, and there was no more work for the navy to do. From 1850 until 1852, he was employed in Washington, drawing up a book of regulations for the navy. As when in New Haven he had attended the lectures of Yale College, so now he attended those of the Smithsonian Institution. [Illustration: SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION.] "I have made it a rule of my life to do all things with a view to the possible future. You cannot come away from such lectures without being wiser than when you went in," he said. When the book of regulations was finished, he went back to the navy yard at Norfolk, where he gave a series of lectures on gunnery to the officers. About this time, England and France were at war with Russia. Farragut applied to Congress for permission to visit the English and French fleets engaged in this war. He wished to see whether he could learn of any improvements that could be made in the American navy. But Congress had other work for him to do. There was to be a new navy yard built on the Pacific coast, at San Francisco. This would be a difficult task, and one requiring the services of a man having great knowledge and experience. No one was better fitted to undertake it than the lieutenant who had been so eager to make use of every opportunity for improvement. In August, 1854, he was accordingly sent to California. Some time before this, he had married a second wife, Virginia Loyall, of Norfolk, and she accompanied him to the Pacific coast. There were then no railroads across the great western plains, and they went by ship to the isthmus of Panama. After crossing the isthmus, they embarked upon a coasting vessel, and sailed to San Francisco. Commander Farragut spent four years in laying the foundations of what is to-day the great navy yard on Mare Island, about thirty miles from San Francisco. Before this work was completed he was promoted to the rank of captain. This was, at that time, the highest rank in the United States navy. In July, 1858, Captain Farragut returned home. He was given, at once, the command of the _Brooklyn_. It had been ten years since he had been on a war vessel, and he found many changes. His ship had steam power as well as sails. It was one of the first steam war vessels built for the navy. The arrangement of the guns was the same as in the old sailing sloops. But they were much larger, and of different shape. Explosive shells were used instead of solid cannon balls. The _Brooklyn_ cruised for two years in the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico. While on this cruise, Captain Farragut again visited New Orleans, for he wished to see his brother who was on duty at the naval station there. A sorrowful welcome awaited him, however, for his brother had died just before his arrival. The captain sadly returned to his ship, and soon afterward sailed home to Norfolk. VII.--THE QUESTION OF ALLEGIANCE. In 1861, at the beginning of the Civil War, the United States navy had but ninety vessels of all kinds. Twenty-one of these were not fit for service. Only eleven of those in commission were in American waters. The rest, which were scattered all over the world, were recalled at once. Some of those in far away ports were commanded by southern captains, and it would take them several months to reach America. It was feared that they would take their vessels into southern ports, and turn them over to the Confederate government. These fears, however, were groundless, for all the vessels were safely brought into northern ports. With few exceptions, all the naval officers were loyal to the United States. Of all these naval officers, none was more loyal than Captain Farragut. In his home in Virginia, he had watched the growing troubles with a sad heart. He was a southerner by birth, and his most tender ties were in Virginia. It was there that he had spent many years with the Porter family, and there he had numerous friends. It was there, also, that he had married and made his home. He knew that, should war break out, he would be called upon to choose between his friends in the South, and his government in the North. "God forbid," he said, "that I should have to raise my hand against the South." These very words showed that his decision had been made. He felt that he owed his first allegiance to the United States government, which had given him his education, employment, and rank. He could not take up arms against the flag of his country. It was under this flag that he had received his first commission as midshipman. In that proud moment he had taken his oath to die in its defense. On the ocean, he had seen the proudest colors lowered to the victorious stars and stripes. At Valparaiso, he had stood on the bloody deck of the _Essex_, and had seen men give their lives in order that the flag should not be hauled down. He had traveled from ocean to ocean, and had seen the star spangled banner respected by all nations. For some weeks before the actual beginning of war, there was much excitement in Norfolk. Every day the men met together in the stores to talk over the latest news, and there were many lively discussions among them. In these meetings, Captain Farragut boldly asserted his loyalty to the government, and this caused him the loss of many of his friends. One morning, when in discussion with some officers, one of them said to him, "A person of your sentiments cannot live in Norfolk." "Well, then," he calmly replied, "I can live somewhere else." He felt that the time for action had come. He went home at once, and told his wife that he was going to "stick to the flag," and that they must move to the North. With sad hearts, they sailed away from Norfolk. They went to New York, and made their home on the Hudson, in a town called Hastings. Even there, Captain Farragut met with a cold reception. The people were suspicious of the southern officer who had come to live among them. They did not consider the great sacrifice that he had made in leaving home and friends. Determined to do his duty, he wrote to offer his services to the government. Congress could not, at once, accept them. No minor position could be given to Captain Farragut; it must be one full of responsibility. It was not long, however, until the government had need of his services. The Mississippi River separated two large sections of the southern states, and its control was of the greatest importance to both the North and the South. At the beginning of the war, all the river from Cairo, Illinois, to the Gulf, was controlled by the South. The capture of the upper forts in this section was first attempted by the North. Large armies marched against them by land, and a fleet of river gunboats sailed down from the north to assist them. These gunboats were river steamers which the government had covered with plates of iron and armed with cannon. While the northern river forts were thus being attacked, an expedition was planned to capture the fortifications near the river's mouth. The strongest of these were Fort Jackson and Fort St. Philip. These were between New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico, and their capture would give New Orleans to the North. This was considered a very important undertaking. After much discussion, the Navy Department decided that Captain Farragut was best fitted to command this expedition. So Commander David D. Porter was sent to Hastings to talk the matter over with him. This commander was the son of the Captain Porter who had adopted David Farragut when a boy. When Captain Farragut heard of the proposed expedition he was very enthusiastic. He hurried at once to Washington, where he was appointed commander of the Western Gulf Blockading Squadron. This was in January, 1862. His orders were to capture Forts Jackson and St. Philip, and take New Orleans. A few weeks before this an event took place which came near making serious trouble for the United States. The Confederate government had appointed two commissioners, John Slidell and James Mason, to go to England to see if they could not get help from that country. As it would be dangerous for them to sail in a Confederate vessel, they went to Havana, Cuba, where they took passage in an English vessel named the _Trent_. Although they had tried to do this very secretly, Captain Wilkes, commanding a warship of the United States, heard about it, and determined to capture these men, if possible. So he pursued the _Trent_ and obliged her to stop. The Confederate commissioners refused to leave the _Trent_, and, therefore, Captain Wilkes sent an armed force on board and carried them off. He then took them to Boston harbor, where they were imprisoned in a fort of the United States. This act caused great indignation in England, and it was only through the prompt and wise action of President Lincoln and Congress that war was averted. An apology was made and the Confederate commissioners were allowed to proceed on their voyage without further molestation. VIII.--THE CAPTURE OF NEW ORLEANS. On the 2d of February, 1862, Captain Farragut sailed from Hampton Roads in his flagship, the _Hartford_. This was one of the new sloops of war having both steam and sails. All the vessels of this expedition were to meet at Ships Island, about one hundred miles from the mouth of the Mississippi. When Captain Farragut arrived there on February 20th, he found only a part of his fleet awaiting him. The other vessels arrived one by one. This was the most powerful squadron that had ever been under an American commander. It consisted of steam sloops, gunboats, and mortar boats, forty-eight vessels in all. An army of fifteen thousand men was at hand to assist Captain Farragut. This army had been brought from the North on transports, and was under the command of General Benjamin F. Butler. [Illustration: THE HARTFORD.] In the channel, at the mouth of the Mississippi, were heavy mud banks, made of deposits brought down by the stream. To take the large vessels over this bar was Captain Farragut's first great task. The water was so shallow that the keels of the ships would sometimes stick in the mud, and then it was with the greatest of difficulty that they could be hauled off. It was the 18th of April before all the vessels were in the river and ready to attack the forts; and in the meanwhile, a great naval battle had been fought in other waters. The Confederates had captured the Norfolk navy yard, and with it the United States vessel _Merrimac_, which was there at the time. They removed the masts of this vessel, and then fitted her with an iron prow, and built sloping sides over the deck, covering them with iron rails laid closely together side by side. Five of the best Northern war vessels lay in the bay outside of the harbor. On March 8th, 1862, the _Merrimac_ attacked this fleet. She drove her iron prow straight through the side of the _Cumberland_. This vessel sank almost immediately, and but few of the men were saved. Then the _Merrimac_ attacked the _Congress_, drove her ashore, and set her on fire with red hot shot. Meanwhile, broadside after broadside had been fired at the _Merrimac_; but the shot bounded harmlessly from her sloping iron sides. Night came on, and before attempting to destroy the other three ships, the black monster waited for the daylight. There was consternation all through the North. How could a stop be made to this fearful work of the _Merrimac_? There was no telling what she might do on the morrow. That same night there steamed into Chesapeake Bay a queer looking little vessel which had been built by a famous mechanic, Captain John Ericsson. She was named the _Monitor_. She had a low, flat deck, pointed at both ends. In the center was a round, revolving turret. The vessel was completely plated over with iron, and in the turret were two enormous guns, larger than any that had ever been used before. [Illustration: CONFEDERATE FLAG.] On the morning of March 9th, when the _Merrimac_ steamed out to finish her work of destruction, a stupendous cannon ball came thundering against her black side. As the turret of the little _Monitor_ swung round, there came another and another,--such a battering as never ship's side had felt before that day. The broadsides returned by the _Merrimac_ fell harmlessly on the flat deck and iron turret of the _Monitor_. This battle lasted for nearly three hours. Neither vessel was injured to any extent. Finally the _Merrimac_ withdrew, leaving the _Monitor_ in possession of the bay. In one respect, this was the most wonderful battle ever fought upon the water. It showed to all the nations of the world that new navies must be built. In one day all the war-ships in the world had become old-fashioned. The days for wooden war vessels were over. Let us now return to Captain Farragut. As I have said, by the 18th of April he had succeeded in taking all his vessels over the bar of the Mississippi. But still greater difficulties were ahead of him. Before he could capture New Orleans, he must pass the two forts, Jackson and St. Philip, on opposite banks of the river. First of all, however, he must break through a barricade which was below the forts. This reached from shore to shore, and was made of old hulks of vessels and cypress logs, fastened together with huge iron chains. [Illustration: MAP OF THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI.] Should the barricade be broken and the forts passed, there was still a Confederate fleet to be overcome. This consisted of fifteen ships, gunboats, and steam rams similar to the _Merrimac_. They were drawn up across the river above the forts. Captain Farragut was not discouraged by any of these things, but began at once to carry out his plans. All along the banks of the river were thick woods. The forts themselves were almost hidden by the trees. Captain Farragut stationed his mortar boats close to the banks, below the chain barricade; and, in order that they might be better hidden from the forts, large branches of trees had been tied to the tops of the masts. This mortar flotilla was commanded by Captain Porter. The mortars could throw thirteen-inch shells for a distance of two miles. Captain Farragut's plan was to send these mortar boats forward to bombard the forts, while the other vessels, breaking through the chains, should sail boldly up the river. On the morning of April 18th, the shells from the mortars began to rain down upon the forts. For six days and nights this firing never ceased. The answering shots from the forts did but little harm. The Confederates could not take aim at boats which they could not see. Meanwhile, two of Captain Farragut's gunboats crept up the river at night, and broke a passage through the chain barricade. Then, on the night of April 23d, the entire fleet sailed through this opening and boldly attacked the forts. The whole river was at once a scene of confusion. Every gun, both of the forts and of the Confederate fleet, which had hastened down the river, was sending shot and shell into the Union fleet. The Confederates piled every kind of inflammable material upon huge rafts, set them on fire, and sent them floating down the river. They hoped, in this way, to burn the invading fleet. The river was a blaze of light. The din from the cannon was terrible. But Captain Farragut and his vessels kept steadily on. They passed the forts, and destroyed or captured every vessel in the Confederate fleet. This was accomplished with the loss of but one ship of the Union squadron. When the news of this victory reached New Orleans, the whole city was thrown into wild confusion. Men, women, and children rushed to the levee and set fire to the goods there. Everything that would burn was set on fire, and sent down the river to meet the victorious fleet that was coming. Ships loaded with burning cotton, and even a half-finished ram like the _Merrimac_ floated down stream, a mass of flames. [Illustration: GENERAL B.F. BUTLER.] About noon on April 25th, the fleet rounded the bend of the river, and came in sight of the city. That same morning, the mayor of New Orleans had ordered the state flag of Louisiana to be hoisted upon the city hall. Captain Farragut demanded that this should be hauled down. He also ordered that the stars and stripes should be raised over the buildings belonging to the United States government. Meanwhile, Commander Porter with his mortar boats had been steadily bombarding Fort Jackson and Fort St. Philip. On April 28th, these forts surrendered, and the Union forces took possession. On the following day, the flag of the United States was floating over the city hall of New Orleans. General Butler and his troops took possession of the city on the first of May. On the 11th of July, on the recommendation of President Lincoln, Congress passed a resolution thanking Captain Farragut for what he had done; and a few days later he was further rewarded by being raised to the rank of rear-admiral. IX.--THE BATTLE OF MOBILE BAY. After the capture of New Orleans, Admiral Farragut was ordered at once to proceed up the river. He was to pass, or to attack and capture, all the Confederate forts between New Orleans and Memphis. But for many reasons, he thought it unwise to attempt this expedition. The increasing shallowness of the river would make it almost impossible to use his best sea-going vessels. The upper forts were located on high bluffs, and it would be difficult to attack them from the river. Admiral Farragut knew that, should he be able to pass these forts, or even to silence their guns, he could not hold them without a large land force. But he was too good a soldier to do anything in disobedience to orders. [Illustration: GENERAL N.P. BANKS.] In the face of all these difficulties, he passed and repassed the forts at Vicksburg and Port Hudson. He made it plain to the Confederates that none of their batteries on the Mississippi could stop the movements of his fleet. But he found, as he had expected, that the forts could not be held until armies came to his assistance. A large land force under General Grant besieged Vicksburg until it surrendered on July 4, 1863. Five days later, an army under General Nathaniel P. Banks succeeded in capturing Port Hudson. These were the last Confederate strongholds on the Mississippi. Their capture gave to the Union forces the entire control of the river. The command of the Mississippi squadron was given to David D. Porter, who had likewise been rewarded with the rank of rear admiral. He took charge of all the river boats of the fleet, while Farragut, with most of the sea-going vessels, sailed for the Atlantic coast. [Illustration: ADMIRAL DAVID D. PORTER.] These vessels were all in need of repairs. His flagship, the _Hartford_, which was in the best condition of all, had two hundred and forty scars from shot and shell. After the loss of New Orleans, Mobile was the best Gulf port left to the Confederates. This city stands at the head of the broad, shallow bay of Mobile, thirty miles from the Gulf. The entrance to the bay is very narrow, and it was protected by two strong forts,--Fort Morgan on one side, and Fort Gaines on the other. Admiral Farragut was ordered to capture these forts. This would prevent the South from using the port of Mobile. On January 18th, 1864, his ships having been repaired, Captain Farragut sailed again into the Gulf of Mexico. He was anxious to make the attack early in the spring, but it was August before his fleet was ready. In the meantime, the Confederates had made their fortifications stronger. The only channel through which the vessels could pass was near Fort Morgan. The Confederates strengthened this fort with every defense possible. A double line of torpedoes, or submarine mines, was stretched across the channel. Above this, lay the Confederate fleet. One of these vessels, the _Tennessee_, was a huge iron ram like the _Merrimac_. The squadron of Admiral Farragut was a strong one. There were twenty-four wooden war vessels and four ironclads like the _Monitor_. On the night of August 4th, every preparation was made for the attack. The seamen, with determined faces, gave their messages and keep-sakes to their messmates, for they hardly expected to come out of this fray alive. Admiral Farragut, himself, made all his arrangements for the worst, though hoping for the best. He wrote to his wife, "I am going into Mobile in the morning, if God is my leader, as I hope He is, and in Him I place my trust. If He thinks it is the place for me to die, I am ready to submit to His will. God bless and preserve you, if anything should happen to me." At sunrise the fleet moved steadily toward Fort Morgan, the stars and stripes flying from every masthead. The four ironclads were sent ahead, close to the forts. The wooden war vessels followed, lashed together in pairs. This was done so that if one vessel became disabled it could be towed by the other. Farragut wished to lead the fleet in his flagship, the _Hartford_, but his officers dissuaded him, and the _Brooklyn_ went first, the _Hartford_ following. The admiral climbed up in the rigging, where he could command a view of the entire fleet. As the shells from the forts began to fall about the vessels, he climbed higher and higher, in order to see above the smoke. Fearing that a shot would cut the ropes, one of his officers climbed up to him and wound a rope around his body. The end of this was secured to the mast. The ironclad _Tecumseh_ was now leading the fleet. Suddenly there was a muffled explosion. The stern of the _Tecumseh_ rose out of the water and she plunged bow foremost to the bottom of the channel. At this, the _Brooklyn_ stopped, and with reversed engines began to back water. Admiral Farragut signaled, and asked, "What's the trouble?" "Torpedoes," was the reply. This was the critical moment of the battle. The backing of the _Brooklyn_ caused confusion among the vessels following so closely upon each other. There was tremendous cheering and firing from the Confederates. They were sure that the victory was theirs. A signal was made to the _Brooklyn_ to go ahead, but she remained motionless. What should be done? To remain there, under the guns of the fort, with the other vessels coming up behind, was out of the question. Ahead lay the dreaded line of torpedoes. Everything depended upon prompt decision. Admiral Farragut ordered the _Hartford_ to go ahead, "full speed." She passed the _Brooklyn_, and made straight for the mines that had sunk the _Tecumseh_. As they crossed the line of torpedoes, the sailors could hear them grating against the hull of the vessel. None of them exploded, however, and the _Hartford_ passed the fatal line in safety. The effect of this daring deed was wonderful. Men sprang to the guns, and the air was filled with the roar of cannon. The other vessels all followed the _Hartford_ across the torpedoes, into the bay. They then attacked the Confederate fleet, and soon either captured or destroyed all but the ram _Tennessee_. This vessel had taken refuge under the guns of Fort Morgan. Admiral Farragut then anchored about four miles up the bay. While his men were having breakfast the iron ram steamed out boldly from the fort to attack the whole fleet. [Illustration: ADMIRAL BUCHANAN.] Admiral Buchanan, the commander of the Confederate fleet, was a brave officer. Not until after a fierce combat, which lasted over an hour, was he forced to surrender the _Tennessee_. This ended the battle of Mobile Bay. "It was one of the hardest earned victories of my life, and the most desperate battle I ever fought since the days of the _Essex_," said Farragut. Not quite three hours had passed from the time that Fort Morgan fired its first gun until the _Tennessee_ surrendered. With the Confederate fleet destroyed, and Mobile Bay in possession of Farragut, the forts were soon captured. While Farragut had been winning these victories in the Gulf, a very brilliant naval battle had been fought off the coast of France. [Illustration: CAPTAIN RAPHAEL SEMMES.] During the whole of the war, England had allowed the Confederates to fit out armed cruisers in her harbors, and to send them out to prey upon the United States commerce. The most famous of these cruisers was the _Alabama_, commanded by Captain Raphael Semmes. For two years this vessel had roamed the sea, burning and destroying nearly forty United States merchantmen, but always eluding the war vessels. At last, in June, 1864, the United States war vessel _Kearsarge_ discovered this enemy in the harbor of Cherbourg, France. As it would have been against the laws of nations to fight a battle in the harbor, the _Kearsarge_ remained outside to prevent the _Alabama_ from getting away. Finally on Sunday, June 19th, the _Alabama_ suddenly put to sea and attacked the _Kearsarge_. The vessels were evenly matched. The battle following was terrific. But the crew of the _Kearsarge_ proved to be the better marksmen, and after an hour's furious fighting the _Alabama_ suddenly gave a great lurch and plunged to the bottom of the ocean: The crew were picked up by the _Kearsarge_ and some English vessels which happened to be near. X.--WELL-EARNED LAURELS. After the surrender of the forts, Farragut remained in Mobile Bay until the following November. His health was suffering from his labors and the effects of the southern climate. At this time, the Navy Department requested him to take command of an expedition against Fort Fisher. This greatly disturbed him, and he wrote to the Secretary of the Navy that his strength was exhausted. "I am willing," he said, "to do the bidding of the government as long as I am able. I fear, however, that my health is giving way. I have now been down to the Gulf five years out of six, and I want rest if it is to be had." When the Secretary of the Navy realized the condition of his health, Admiral Farragut was granted the much needed furlough. Leaving his squadron in charge of an efficient officer, he sailed north in November, 1864. As his flagship entered New York harbor, it was met by a committee of city officials and citizens. Enthusiastic crowds greeted him as he landed, and a reception in his honor was held at the custom-house. A few days later, a committee of citizens sent him a request to make his home in New York. With this request came a gift of $50,000. In December, Congress created for him the grade of vice-admiral. All these honors were gratefully and modestly acknowledged by him. In the spring of 1865 peace was declared, and Admiral Farragut went for a visit to Norfolk. He found that many of his old acquaintances still felt very unfriendly towards him for having taken up arms against the South. Although this pained him deeply, he said that he had never regretted having done his duty. In 1866, the government gave him the title of Admiral. This title made him commander of the whole American navy. It was a rank created especially for him. The government could give him no higher honor. In 1867, he was appointed commander of the European squadron. Without any request from him, the government sent permission for Mrs. Farragut to accompany him on this cruise. On June 28th, they sailed from New York on the steam frigate _Franklin_. This foreign cruise was more like the triumphal progress of a king than the official visit of a naval commander. He dined with the emperor of France and the queen of England. He visited the ports of Russia, Holland, and Belgium. He sailed again through the blue Mediterranean, visiting the places he had seen on his former cruise. A special excavation of the buried Pompeii was made for his benefit. At Malta, a grand reception was held in his honor. But most of all, he enjoyed a visit to his father's Spanish birthplace. This was in the island of Minorca, just off the eastern coast of Spain. He was to visit the little city on the day before Christmas. The news of his coming had spread rapidly to all parts of the island, and a general holiday had been proclaimed. At every village on the way crowds of men and women came to meet him and bid him welcome. All along the route soldiers had been stationed to pay him honor, and give him any assistance that he might need. Four miles from the city gates he was met by a large committee of citizens, and transferred to a handsome carriage. The city walls, housetops, and balconies were crowded with men, women, and children. One old man, with tears streaming down his face, shouted: "He is ours! He is ours!" The admiral was entertained at the mansion of one of the prominent citizens. A band of music played in the vestibule, while the people came in crowds. Early the next day, surrounded by an excited throng, he was escorted to all the places of interest. They finally went to the great cathedral, where the organ pealed forth the American national airs. This was the last place the admiral visited before his return to America. He landed in New York, November 10th, 1868. The following summer, he made a trip to the Pacific coast, to visit the navy yard at Mares Island. You will remember that, years before, he had laid the foundations of this navy yard. Returning from San Francisco to the East, he was taken very ill in Chicago. By careful nursing he was able to resume the journey. But he never regained his lost strength, and his health continued steadily to fail. The following summer the Navy Department placed a steamer at his disposal, and with his family he visited Portsmouth, New Hampshire. This was his last sea voyage. As the ship came into harbor, he arose from his sick bed at the sound of the salute being fired in his honor. Dressed in full uniform, he went on deck. Looking up with a sad smile at his flag flying from the masthead, he said: "It would be well if I died _now_ in harness." Shortly after his arrival he wandered on board a dismantled sloop, lying at the wharf. He looked about the ship, and, as he left her to go ashore, he said: "This is the last time I shall ever tread the deck of a man of war." This proved to be true. On August 14th, 1870, surrounded by his family and loving friends, he died. He was sixty-nine years old. The government sent a steam frigate to take his body to New York. On the day of his funeral, the whole city was in mourning. The buildings were draped in black. Bells were tolled and guns fired. His body was laid in Woodlawn Cemetery. Heading the procession was General Grant, then the President of the United States. Following were many military and naval officers, and thousands of soldiers. The government erected a bronze statue in his honor. This is in the national capital, in Farragut Square. Thus ends the story of the life of America's first admiral, the story of a man who won fame and glory by constant effort for self-improvement and strict adherence to duty. [Illustration: MONUMENT TO FARRAGUT AT WASHINGTON.] THE STORY OF ADMIRAL DEWEY AND THE NAVY OF 1898 [Illustration: George Dewey] FOREWORD. CAUSES OF THE WAR WITH SPAIN. On the 23d of April, 1898, war was declared between the United States and Spain. To understand how this came about, we must go back a great many years. Ever since the island of Cuba was discovered by Columbus in 1492, the one thought of the Spaniards has been to gain wealth from the island without giving anything in return. For many years, most of the Cubans have been little better off than slaves. They have always been very poor and have had to do the hard work on the plantations and in the cities. At best, they have never been able to make much more than enough to pay the taxes imposed upon them by the Spanish government. The island has been ruled by governors sent out from Spain. Many of these have been very bad men whose only desire has been to get rich and return home. For a long time the Cubans have wished to choose their own governors, and they have frequently tried, by force, to secure the right to do this. From 1868 to 1878, there was a rebellion known as the "Ten Years' War." But, one by one, the insurgent bands were scattered and their leaders killed. This war left Cuba with a heavy debt, and the people poorer than ever. The conduct of the Spaniards, after this war, was more cruel and oppressive than before. Fifty thousand soldiers were sent to the island to preserve peace. The people were forced to pay for the support of this army, and the taxes were almost unendurable. At last, in 1895, some of the Cubans resolved to stand it no longer. They formed an army whose watchword was "Cuba Libre," meaning "Free Cuba," and began another war with Spain. The Spanish governor, General Campos, tried in vain to conquer these insurgents, and was finally recalled to Spain. General Weyler, who was sent in his place, proved to be a very cruel man. He surrounded the larger towns with trenches and barbed wire fences, and built wooden forts or blockhouses for his soldiers. Into these fortified towns, thousands upon thousands of poor country people were driven, their homes having been burned and their fields destroyed. The sufferings of these poor people were terrible. They were huddled together in sheds and huts without the means even of obtaining food. Sometimes several families were packed into one little palm-leaf hut where they had foul air, foul water, and almost nothing to eat. Thousands of men, women, and children died from starvation and disease. General Weyler hoped by these cruel means to starve the insurgents into submission, but the war went on just as before. Throughout the island a terrible work of destruction was carried on by both the insurgents and the Spaniards. Railroads were destroyed, and buildings and plantations were burned. The people of the United States had heard of all these things, but for a long time did not do anything to stop them. But when the American consul at Havana, General Fitzhugh Lee, reported that many Americans were among the starving, they could endure it no longer. Food and supplies were sent through the Red Cross Society, and a little of the suffering was thus relieved. Matters grew steadily worse in the island until President McKinley felt obliged to warn the Spanish government that they must soon end the war. He declared that if this was not done, the United States would recognize Cuba as an independent country. Spain became alarmed at this, and, in October, 1897, the cruel Weyler was recalled, and General Blanco was sent in his place. This new governor tried to stop the war by granting to the Cubans some of the rights they demanded. He allowed them to hold some of the offices. He released the American political prisoners, and set free the starving country people. But it was too late. The crops had been destroyed and the people could not get a living. The Cuban army would not be satisfied with anything less than independence, and so the fighting continued. [Illustration: THE MAINE.] At last an event took place which aroused the people of the United States to a deeper interest in Cuba than before. The United States battleship _Maine_, commanded by Captain C.D. Sigsbee, had been sent on a friendly visit to Havana. On the 15th of February, 1898, while lying in the harbor, she was destroyed by a fearful explosion. Two hundred and sixty-six officers and men were killed. President McKinley immediately appointed a committee to find out, if possible, the cause of the disaster. These men reported that the _Maine_ was destroyed by a submarine mine; but they could not find out who had placed it in the harbor or who had exploded it. [Illustration: CAPTAIN SIGSBEE OF THE MAINE.] There was intense excitement all over the United States during this investigation. Senator Proctor and others went to Cuba to see for themselves if the reports of the suffering there were true. When they came back, they told the people what they had seen. Senator John M. Thurston made a speech in Congress in which he said: "I never saw so pitiful a sight as the people at Matanzas. I can never forget the hopeless anguish in their eyes. They did not ask for alms as we went among them. Men, women, and children stood silent, starving. Their only appeal came from their sad eyes. "The government of Spain has not and will not give a dollar to save these people. They are being helped by the charity of the United States. Think of it! We are feeding these citizens of Spain; we are nursing their sick; and yet there are people who say that it is right to send food, but that we must keep hands off. I say that the time has come when muskets should go with the food." Most of the members of Congress agreed with Senator Thurston. On the 19th of April, 1898, they passed a resolution authorizing President McKinley to use the army and navy of the United States to force Spain to abandon all claim to the island of Cuba. Spain was not willing to give up her control of the Cubans, and therefore war was formally declared. It was only a few days until actual hostilities began. It is the purpose of the following chapters to relate the story of the short but decisive struggle which followed. In that struggle the navy of the United States bore by far the largest share, and it is therefore of the navy and of the brave officers who commanded it that we shall have the most to say. THE STORY OF ADMIRAL DEWEY AND THE NAVY OF 1898. I.--THE BATTLE OF MANILA. On the morning of May 1, 1898, in the harbor of Manila, one of the most remarkable naval victories in the history of the world was won by the United States. The Spanish fleet, though superior in both men and guns, was entirely destroyed, and hundreds of officers and men were made prisoners. All this was accomplished by an American squadron under Commodore George Dewey, without the loss of a ship or a man. The way in which it all came about was as follows: When war was declared between the United States and Spain, Commodore George Dewey was at Hong Kong, China, with that part of our navy which was known as the Asiatic squadron. He was at once ordered to sail to the Philippines, and capture or destroy the Spanish fleet there. These Philippine Islands are about six hundred miles southeast of Hong Kong. Their capital and largest city is Manila, on the island of Luzon. As Commodore Dewey sailed out of the bay at Hong Kong, he signaled to his fleet: "Keep cool and obey orders." [Illustration: MAP OF MANILA BAY.] At a little before midnight, on the 30th of April, the American vessels in single file, led by the flagship _Olympia_, steamed between the forts which guarded the entrance to the bay of Manila. In order not to be seen from these forts, all the lights on the vessels were hidden. Silently and steadily the vessels moved on, unseen by the Spaniards. All of the fleet except the _Boston_ and _McCulloch_ had passed in safety, when the soot in the smokestack of the _McCulloch_ caught fire. Instantly the guns of one of the Spanish batteries were turned upon the fleet. The _Boston_ and _McCulloch_ returned the fire, but kept on their way and were soon out of range, having received no injury. [Illustration: ADMIRAL MONTOJO.] When day broke, Commodore Dewey found the entire Spanish fleet drawn up under the protection of the batteries of the Cavité naval station about nine miles from the city of Manila. It was commanded by Admiral Patricio Montojo, one of the ablest officers in the Spanish service. At about five o'clock, with the flagship leading, the Americans bore down upon the Spanish. Suddenly there was a muffled roar, and a submarine mine exploded. But, in the excitement, the Spaniards had fired it too soon, and no damage was done. This was soon followed by the explosion of another mine, but again the Spaniards had been in too great haste, and the _Olympia_ escaped uninjured. Although Commodore Dewey did not know but that many other torpedoes might be in his path, he never hesitated. He had been in the battle of Mobile Bay with Farragut, when that brave commander had sailed boldly over a line of torpedoes. Soon the guns of the batteries and Spanish fleet began to pour a storm of shot and shell at the American squadron. But, as yet, Commodore Dewey had not fired a gun. The American sailors were wild with excitement. They had been by the guns all night, and were eager to begin the fray. Finally Commodore Dewey said quietly to the captain of the _Olympia_: "You may fire when ready, Gridley." The flagship was now within range, and suddenly one of the great guns sent an answering shot. As its echoes went rolling across the waters, every man in the American fleet joined in the shout, "Remember the _Maine_!" These words were the battle cry at Manila Bay. Slowly the American vessels steamed by the Spanish squadron in single file, pouring in deadly broadsides as they passed. Then turning, they retraced their course, drawing a little nearer to the shore. This maneuver was repeated five times. The marksmanship of the Americans was wonderful, and at the end of two hours nearly every ship in the Spanish fleet had either been sunk or was on fire. At seven o'clock Commodore Dewey decided to withdraw out of range of the batteries, to give his men a rest and breakfast, and find what damage had been done to his own fleet. Imagine his surprise and joy at finding that not a single man had been killed, and that his vessels were scarcely injured. At eleven o'clock the Americans returned to the attack, soon silenced the forts, and burned or captured all that remained of the Spanish fleet. As soon as the battle was over, Commodore Dewey and his men set to work to care for the wounded Spanish sailors. They treated them like brothers, doing everything possible for their comfort. After taking possession of the arsenal at Cavité, Commodore Dewey blockaded the port of Manila, and awaited further orders from the department of war. He knew that if the city of Manila could be captured, it would result in the loss, by the Spaniards, of the entire Philippine group. These islands form one of the largest groups in the world, and are so rich and beautiful that they are called the "Pearls of the Ocean." They were the most important of the colonial possessions of Spain. When the news of the victory reached the United States, there was great rejoicing all over the land, and Commodore Dewey was the hero of the hour. Congress at once gave him a vote of thanks, and promoted him to the rank of rear admiral. It also presented him with a beautiful sword, and gave a medal to each one of his men. II.--THE BOYHOOD OF GEORGE DEWEY. Who was this George Dewey who won that famous victory in the Bay of Manila? He was a native of Vermont, and had spent the greater part of his life on the sea with the American navy. He was born in Montpelier on the day after Christmas, 1837. Montpelier was a pleasant place in which to live. There were hills to climb, and a pretty little river ran through the fields and gardens behind the Dewey home. Here George could wade, sail boats, and fish. Although he was not fond of books, he never tired of Robinson Crusoe. With his sister Mary as Friday, he tramped many times over the hills playing that they were shipwrecked on an island. Sometimes George's love of adventure got him into trouble. One day he read how the famous Hannibal marched, with an immense army, over the Alps in winter. The winters in Vermont are very cold, and to the ten-year-old boy the snow-covered hills around Montpelier were as good as the Alps. So, with his sister Mary for an army, the youthful Hannibal started on his march. The campaign proved to be too severe for faithful Mary, and she was sick in bed for a week. When about eleven years of age, George was sent, one day, on an errand. As it was a long distance, he was allowed to take his father's horse and buggy, and one of his boy friends for company. On the way they came to a ford which, though usually shallow, was swollen with recent rains. When his companion wished to turn back George said, "What man has done, man can do," and drove, full speed, into the river. The buggy, horse, and boys were soon floundering in the rapid current. When the top and box of the buggy began to float down stream, George never lost his presence of mind. Commanding his frightened comrade to follow him, he climbed upon the horse, and the boys reached the shore in safety. When he returned home, George did not try to escape punishment, but administered it to himself by going to bed without any supper. But when his father came to his room and began to scold him, he thought it was a little too much. In his lisping voice he replied: "You ought to be thankful that my life wath thpared." But George Dewey did not play all the time. His father was a good and wise man, and believed that a thorough education was one of the most important things of life. He obliged George to go to school regularly and conduct himself becomingly. George had an experience in his first school which he never forgot. The scholars were an unruly set, and they had proved too much for several teachers. When, one day, a new master, Mr. Pangborn, arrived, the boys began as usual to make trouble. George was directed to perform some task and he flatly refused. In a moment Mr. Pangborn seized him and gave him the worst whipping that he had ever had. Nor was this all. When he had finished, Mr. Pangborn marched the unruly George home to his father, the whole school following in the rear. When Dr. Dewey heard the story, he told George that if Mr. Pangborn's punishment was not sufficient, he would administer more. This settled the matter of disobedience for George. He was too manly a boy not to admire his fearless teacher. They grew to be great friends, and when Mr. Pangborn started a school of his own in Johnson, Vermont, George asked to be allowed to attend. This request was granted willingly. III.--DEWEY AS A NAVAL CADET. When George was fifteen years old, he was sent to a military school at Norwich, Vermont. He liked the training so well that he decided to try to get an appointment in the Naval Academy at Annapolis. One day he told one of his school fellows, George Spalding, what he intended to do. "Why, Dewey," said Spalding, "that is what I am going to do myself." Spalding received the coveted appointment, but as he was not able to go, George went in his place. George Spalding became a minister, and when the news of Admiral Dewey's victory at Manila reached the United States, he preached a sermon about it in his church at Syracuse, New York. The boy who goes to the Naval School at Annapolis must be ready to work hard with both his hands and his brain. The discipline is rigid and no favors are shown or allowances made. George Dewey was seventeen years old when he entered the Academy. He was a strong, active boy, and fond of outdoor sports. He was also a lad with whom no one could trifle. One day one of the cadets called him insulting names. George promptly knocked him down. Soon afterward another cadet tried to test the courage of the "new boy," but received a worse thrashing than the first one had. The cadets, however, were a manly set, and they admired George for his courage in defending his rights. Long before the four years' training had expired, George was one of the most popular members of his class. It is greatly to his credit, that, although study was not naturally easy for him, yet he graduated as the fifth in his class. This, at Annapolis, means good honest work. George was graduated in 1858, and in order to finish his training, went on a two years' cruise to the Mediterranean in the _Wabash_. On his return, he visited his old home in Montpelier, and while there the war between the Union and the Southern Confederacy began. He hurried to Washington, where he received his commission as lieutenant. IV.--FROM LIEUTENANT TO COMMODORE. Lieutenant Dewey was ordered to the steam sloop _Mississippi_, one of the Gulf Squadron, of which Admiral Farragut was the commander. Though but twenty-three years of age, the young lieutenant won the admiration of both officers and men. When the fleet passed the forts below New Orleans, the _Mississippi_ was the third in the line. All through that terrible fight, Lieutenant Dewey stood on the bridge, amid the storm of shot and shell. Whenever the guns flashed out in the darkness, the sailors could see him holding firmly to the rail, giving orders as calmly as though a battle were an everyday affair. When the Confederate iron-clad, _Pensacola_, tried to ram the _Mississippi_, Lieutenant Dewey never lost his presence of mind. By a quick move, the _Mississippi_ avoided the _Pensacola_, and passing by, poured such a broadside into the ram that her crew ran her ashore in a sinking condition. Admiral Farragut praised the young lieutenant warmly for his brave conduct in this battle. About a year later the _Mississippi_, while trying to pass the forts at Port Hudson, ran aground. The vessel was directly in range of the enemy's batteries, and there was no hope of saving her. Shot after shot came crashing through her sides. The officers who had the task of saving the crew did not return to the _Mississippi_ after their trip to a place of safety. The rest of the crew were saved by Lieutenant Dewey. He was obliged to make several trips to the nearest vessel before he had placed all of the crew out of danger. When no one was left on board but Captain Smith and himself, they set fire to the _Mississippi_ in five places, so that she should not fall into the hands of the enemy. As Dewey and the captain were about to get into their boat, Captain Smith said: "Are you sure she will burn, Dewey?" "I will take one look more to be sure," replied the brave lieutenant; and, at the risk of his life, he made his way back and saw that the fires they had started were making good headway. He then rejoined the captain, and they pulled away from the burning ship. After the loss of the _Mississippi_, Lieutenant Dewey was ordered to one of Admiral Farragut's dispatch boats. The admiral often came on board and was very friendly to the young lieutenant. In 1864, Dewey was assigned to the _Colorado_ as first lieutenant. This vessel was part of the fleet besieging Fort Fisher. During the second attack on the fort, the _Colorado_ was ordered to go up close to a certain battery and silence it. Some of the officers objected, as the _Colorado_ was a wooden vessel and had already been badly damaged. Lieutenant Dewey said, "We shall be safer in there, and the battery can be taken in fifteen minutes." The attack was a success and proved that Dewey was wise as well as brave. After the battle, Admiral Porter came to thank the commander of the _Colorado_ for the work that his vessel had done. The commodore replied, "You must thank Lieutenant Dewey. It was his move." Three months later he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant commander on account of the courage and ability he had shown. After the close of the war, Dewey's father went to see Farragut in New York. The famous admiral shook Dr. Dewey's hand warmly and said, "Sir! Your son George is a worthy and brave officer and some day will make his mark." In 1884 he was made captain. He did not receive the rank of commodore until 1896. During all these years, he worked hard and did his duty faithfully. When not on the sea, he was at work on shore, teaching in the Naval Academy, making marine maps, or looking after supplies for the vessels. Admiral Dewey's sailors are very fond of him, for although he is strict he is always just. The two things which he especially dislikes are disobedience and untruth. On one occasion, when captain of the _Dolphin_, his lieutenant reported that one of the men had refused to perform some task on the plea that it was not his work. Captain Dewey came on deck, and, looking sternly at the man, said: "What! you refuse to do as you are told! Don't you know that this is mutiny?" Calling for the guard, he ordered them to load their guns. "Now, my man," he said, "you have just five minutes in which to obey that order." The captain began counting the minutes, and by the time he had reached four, the order was obeyed. At another time, while at Gibraltar, one of his sailors who had been ashore, came aboard late at night, very drunk. Next morning, he tried to excuse himself to the captain by saying that he had only had two glasses of grog, but had afterwards been sun-struck. "You are lying, my man," said Dewey. "You were very drunk. I expect my men to tell me the truth. Had you told me that you were drunk, I would have made the punishment as light as possible. Now you get ten days in irons for lying." In January, 1898, Commodore Dewey was ordered to take command of the Asiatic Squadron at Hong Kong, China. V.--THE AMERICAN NAVY IN CUBAN WATERS. While Admiral Dewey had been winning fame at Manila, the Navy Department had organized two other fleets which were to be used nearer home. One of these was called the Flying Squadron because it was composed of fast cruisers. It was stationed at Hampton Roads. From this point, it could move quickly either north or south to protect the cities on the Atlantic coast in case they should be attacked by a Spanish fleet. The commander of the Flying Squadron was Commodore Winfield Scott Schley, later a rear admiral. He was an experienced officer. He had graduated from Annapolis in time to serve all through the Civil War. In 1884, he commanded the relief expedition which rescued Lieutenant Greely and his exploring party at Cape Sabine. To do this, he had to sail through fourteen hundred miles of ice-covered ocean. [Illustration: ADMIRAL SCHLEY.] In 1891, he commanded the _Baltimore_, stationed at Valparaiso. One day, a party of his sailors who had gone on shore for pleasure, were attacked by a mob. Two of them were killed and the rest were made prisoners. Captain Schley boldly went on shore and demanded the release of his men, and a sum of money for those who had been killed. As he intimated that a refusal would be followed by a bombardment from the guns of his vessel, the demand was granted. Such was the man that the government had selected to command the Flying Squadron. The other fleet was much larger, and was called the North Atlantic Squadron. It was composed of great battleships, monitors, cruisers, and torpedo-boats. This squadron was to blockade the ports of Cuba in order to prevent any foreign vessel from bringing aid to the Spanish soldiers. [Illustration: ADMIRAL SAMPSON.] This fleet was under the command of Captain William T. Sampson, who was also made a rear admiral a little later in the war. The government could well trust this important duty to Admiral Sampson. Graduating from Annapolis in 1861, he had served through the Civil War, and afterward, step by step, had won promotion. During these years he had seen service in both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, and had occupied many responsible positions in the Navy Department on shore. He had also been one of the committee that had investigated the loss of the battleship _Maine_. All this had prepared him for the great task of commanding the North Atlantic Squadron. The prudence and judgment with which he performed this duty proved that the government had made a wise selection. The people of America were still rejoicing over the victory at Manila, when the news came that the Spanish admiral, Cervera, with four of the finest cruisers in the world, and three of the latest kind of torpedo boat destroyers, had sailed from the Canary Islands for the United States. This caused some alarm, and wild reports were spread as to what these vessels might do. Admiral Sampson, with his fleet, was guarding the West Indian waters, and Commodore Schley, with his Flying Squadron, was waiting at Hampton Roads in case Admiral Cervera should sail north. If the Spanish admiral could evade these fleets, he might bombard the cities on the Atlantic coast. VI.--THE CRUISE OF THE OREGON. In the meanwhile, the greatest anxiety was felt for the United States battleship _Oregon_. When the _Maine_ was destroyed, this vessel was at the Mare Island Navy Yard near San Francisco. Before war was declared she had been ordered to join the squadron of Admiral Sampson as soon as possible. [Illustration: THE OREGON.] To do this she must travel through fourteen thousand miles of stormy sea, through the dangerous passage around Cape Horn and then up the eastern shore of South America. On the 14th of March, commanded by Captain Clark, she sailed from San Francisco, entering the straits of Magellan on the 17th of April. On the same day that Admiral Dewey reached the Philippines, the _Oregon_ arrived at Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Every American was full of anxiety for the great battleship. Surely Admiral Cervera would arrive in the West Indian waters before the _Oregon_ could pass through them. But swiftly and steadily the great ship came on. Finally, on the 24th of May, the _Oregon_ sighted the harbor lights of Key West, and soon reached a safe port. The very next day, Captain Clark reported her ready for duty. She had steamed the length of two oceans and not a valve was broken nor a repair needed. Much praise is due to Captain Clark for bringing his vessel such a distance in desperate haste in order to help fight the nation's battles. But we must not forget that it was the chief engineer, Robert W. Milligen, and his seventy men, who made this possible. In spite of the terrible heat in the engine rooms, these brave fellows worked untiringly to keep the great ship moving steadily day and night around the continent. [Illustration: MAP OF HARBOR OF SANTIAGO DE CUBA.] Meanwhile, on the 11th of May, an unfortunate affair had occurred in the harbor of Cardenas, on the northern coast of Cuba. Three of the American vessels blockading this harbor had been ordered to explore the bay. Suddenly the Spanish batteries on the shore opened fire. The torpedo boat _Winslow_, being nearest the shore, received most of the enemy's shells. Although bravely returning the fire, the little boat was soon disabled. Five men were wounded, and Ensign Worth Bagley and four other men were killed. These were the first Americans to lose their lives in this war. On the following day, the Americans heard that the Spanish fleet had arrived at Martinique, a small French Island near the coast of Venezuela. This being known, Commodore Schley sailed from Hampton Roads for the West Indies. On the 19th of May, Admiral Cervera sailed into the harbor of Santiago de Cuba, on the southern coast of Cuba, and was there several days before the Americans found it out. Commodore Schley hastened at once to the mouth of the harbor so as to cut off all hope of escape for the Spanish admiral. Admiral Sampson soon arrived with the main squadron, and the entire fleet kept watch, frequently bombarding the forts at the harbor's mouth. The Americans did not attempt to pass into the harbor, as the entrance was strongly protected by torpedoes; so they waited for a land force to arrive, and attack the enemy from the rear. VII.--LIEUTENANT HOBSON AND THE MERRIMAC. Soon after Admiral Sampson arrived off Santiago, there came to him a young lieutenant, Richmond Pearson Hobson. He had a plan which he wished to propose. He said: "There is the collier _Merrimac_. Let a volunteer crew just large enough to navigate her be selected. Then, after stripping the old ship of everything valuable, let this crew run her, after dark, into the narrowest part of the channel leading to the harbor; and there let them sink her by exploding torpedoes under her. In this way we can block the harbor so that Admiral Cervera cannot in any way bring out his fleet." [Illustration: LIEUTENANT HOBSON.] He explained that the crew of the _Merrimac_ would jump overboard as she sank, and, if possible, be picked up by a torpedo-boat or a steam launch, which should be stationed near-by for that purpose. Lieutenant Hobson himself, bravely offered to lead this expedition. Admiral Sampson determined to carry out this plan, and called for a single volunteer from each ship. In spite of the danger of the undertaking, almost the entire crew of each vessel, not only offered to go, but begged to be accepted. Finally, eight men were chosen, with Lieutenant Hobson as their leader. At half-past two o'clock in the morning of June 3d, the _Merrimac_ was headed straight for the channel. Lieutenant Hobson stood on the bridge dressed in full uniform. The other men were at their posts dressed in tights, ready to swim a long distance, if necessary. The crew of the steam launch, which was following closely behind, saw the _Merrimac_ swing across the channel and then heard the explosions. At the same time, the air was filled with the flash and roar of the guns of the Spanish forts and ships. In the face of all this fire, and without even a cry of distress to guide them, the crew of the launch began their search for the heroes of the _Merrimac_, never giving it up until daylight. Then, seeing nothing but the tops of the masts of the collier, they returned to the admiral's flagship. Of what had happened to his men in the meantime, Lieutenant Hobson himself told afterward: "When the boat began to sink, and the Spanish shot to fall about us, I told the men to lie flat on the deck. It was due to their splendid discipline, that we were not killed. The minutes seemed hours, but I said that we must lie there until daylight. Now and then one of the men would say, 'Hadn't we better drop off now, sir?' But I said, 'Wait until daylight.' I hoped that by that time we might be recognized and saved. "The old _Merrimac_ kept sinking. It was splendid the way the men behaved. The fire from the batteries and ships was dreadful. As the water came up on the decks, we caught hold of the edges of the raft which was tied to the boom, and hung on, our heads only being above water. "A Spanish launch then came toward the _Merrimac_. As she drew near, the men saw us, and a half-dozen marines pointed their rifles at our heads. 'Is there any officer in that boat to receive a surrender of prisoners of war?' I shouted. An old man leaned out of the launch and waved his hand. It was Admiral Cervera. The marines lowered their rifles and we were helped into the launch." [Illustration: THE MORRO CASTLE, COMMANDING THE ENTRANCE OF THE HARBOR OF SANTIAGO DE CUBA.] A few hours later, a boat bearing a flag of truce came out to the American fleet. It was from Admiral Cervera, and brought the message that Lieutenant Hobson and his men were held as prisoners, and that they were well, only two of them being slightly wounded. Much honor is due to Lieutenant Hobson for this brave deed. But we must not forget that the lives of the crew were saved through the kindness and nobility of Admiral Cervera. Not every commander would so honor his brave prisoners, and his action has been much appreciated in America. The sinking of the _Merrimac_ did not obstruct the channel completely. The steering gear was broken by some of the Spanish shot, and Lieutenant Hobson was not able to place the vessel exactly where he had intended. However, it would be a dangerous undertaking for the Spanish admiral to pass out of the harbor at night. Admiral Sampson sent word to the War Department, that, if an army were sent to assist him on land, they could take the city of Santiago, together with the fleet of Admiral Cervera in the harbor. Accordingly General Shafter, with a large army, landed near Santiago and began to drive the Spaniards back into the city. Desperate battles were fought at Siboney, El Caney, and San Juan, but the Americans steadily drove the enemy inside the fortifications of Santiago. During these attacks, the fleets helped the army by throwing shells into the city. VIII.--THE DESTRUCTION OF CERVERA'S FLEET. On Sunday morning, July 3d, the American ships were lying quietly outside the harbor of Santiago. They were stretched in a line from Commodore Schley's flagship, the _Brooklyn_, seven miles eastward, where Admiral Sampson had gone with his flagship _New York_, in order to confer with General Shafter. [Illustration: ADMIRAL CERVERA.] From the forts on the shore, the great ships looked like mere specks upon the horizon; and it was hard to realize that they were grim sentinels watching every movement of the Spaniards. The "bright work" had all been cleaned and the men were at Sunday services, when suddenly a thin film of smoke was observed to rise behind the hills. The scene on the battleships was changed at once into one of greatest activity. "The enemy is coming out!" was signaled in red, white, and blue from vessel to vessel, and on each deck rang out the command, "All hands clear ship for action!" There was no confusion or noise, and every man was at his post. Powder magazines were opened, and shot and shell were being hoisted to the decks. The engineers stood waiting for the first command with every rod and wheel of the great machinery ready to move. Meanwhile the film of smoke had become a thick cloud, and the Americans knew that soon the Spanish vessels would appear. Suddenly the flagship of the Spanish admiral was seen speeding out of the narrow channel. She passed the wreck of the _Merrimac_, and with the spray dashing high over her bows, started westward along the coast. Close behind her came another vessel, and then another, until the six Spanish ships were all rushing wildly for the open sea. At full speed, the _Brooklyn_, _Texas_, _Iowa_, and _Oregon_ bore down upon the Spanish ships. The _Oregon_ gained headway so rapidly that she passed the _Texas_ and the _Iowa_, and came in behind the _Brooklyn_. Away to the right between the battleships and the shore, sped the little yacht _Gloucester_. Her captain, Lieutenant Richard Wainwright, had been an officer on the _Maine_ when that vessel was blown up in Havana harbor, and so was, perhaps, most anxious of all for a chance at the Spanish. He sent the _Gloucester_ straight towards the Spanish torpedo boats, _Pluton_ and _Furor_. He did not seem to mind the fact that his little yacht was no match for them, and that his decks were covered with Spanish shell. Although aided to some extent by the large vessels, the destruction of the two torpedo boats was due to Lieutenant Wainwright. He never paused in his deadly fire until both of them had surrendered. It was not long, however, until the Spanish shots began to fall about the other American ships, throwing up great columns of water. The _Brooklyn_ was the first to reach the Spanish ships and open fire. The _Oregon_ hastened to assist Commodore Schley. When the Americans saw that not only the _Oregon_, but the _Texas_ and _Iowa_ were gaining on the Spanish, they were wild with excitement. The stokers in the engine rooms poured in the coal, and the steam rose higher and higher. At half-past ten the battle was at its height. Great clouds of smoke settled over the water, and the roar of the guns echoed back from the Santiago hills. Now and then anxious inquiry passed from one American crew to another; but the answer, "All right!" always came back through the din of battle. One by one the Spanish guns became silent, and by eleven o'clock all save one of the enemy's ships had been driven ashore, and destroyed. The _Cristobal Colon_ made a desperate dash for freedom, and was not overtaken until she had gone fifty miles west of Santiago. Then she surrendered, having been forced ashore. After the battle was over the Americans bravely went to the rescue of the Spanish sailors. They climbed the ladders and went into the burning ships, where magazines were likely to explode at any moment. They lifted the wounded men from the hot decks and took them out of the stifling smoke to their own vessels. Their boats picked up the Spaniards who were struggling in the water or trying to climb up on the shore. The Spanish loss on that Sunday was about three hundred killed and one hundred and fifty wounded, while nearly a thousand men were taken prisoners by the Americans. The Spanish vessels were all complete wrecks. There was but one American killed and one wounded. Admiral Cervera was a brave man. He took his fleet out of the Santiago harbor against his own judgment, because he had been ordered to do so by the Spanish government at Madrid. Everything was against him. Many of his officers had been given their commissions because their families were rich and powerful in Spain. The sailors had not entered the navy from choice, but had been forced to do so by the government. Many of them had been kidnapped from their homes, or from the wharves of seaport towns, and forced on board. They were ill treated and poorly paid. On the morning of the battle at Santiago they were threatened with pistols before they would go out to meet the Americans. On the other hand, every man in the American fleet had been thoroughly trained for the work that he had to do, and was fighting for a country which he loved better than life itself. He felt that it was an honor to serve in the navy, and knew that many of his countrymen would be glad to be in his place. Now let us see what has become of Lieutenant Hobson and his men. During all this time they had been held as prisoners in Santiago. Three days after the destruction of the Spanish fleet, arrangements were made to exchange them for some Spanish prisoners. This exchange was made between the Spanish and American lines near Santiago. When the formalities were over and Hobson and his men approached the first American line, all the men cheered wildly and crowded one upon another for a chance to shake hands with the heroes. Lieutenant Hobson was the hero of the hour. He alone was calm, and he modestly said that any other man would have done the same thing in his place. IX.--THE END OF THE WAR. After the loss of Admiral Cervera's fleet, every one knew that it would be only a question of time until the city of Santiago must surrender. The American army under General Miles and General Shafter surrounded the city on the land, while the navy guarded the harbor. The Spaniards could not escape, nor could any help reach them. The next two weeks were spent in trying to fix upon terms of surrender that would be acceptable to both sides. The only fighting was a short bombardment of the city by the warships on the 10th of July. At last on July 17th the city surrendered. The Spaniards agreed to give up not only Santiago but also all the cities and forts east of that place, with all the soldiers and military supplies. The Americans agreed to send all these soldiers, numbering about 22,000 men, back to Spain, and pay for their transportation. After this surrender, General Miles with an army on transport ships sailed for the island of Porto Rico, which is about four hundred miles from Cuba. As usual, the navy went along to protect the unarmed vessels and to help the army make a landing. The first fighting was on the southern coast, near the city of Ponce, in the harbor of Guanica. Lieutenant Wainwright, with his little ship the _Gloucester_, sailed boldly into the harbor and drove the Spaniards from the shore. The Americans were then landed without the loss of a single man. The army was divided into three divisions, and all set out for the city of San Juan upon the northern coast. They drove the Spaniards before them, taking possession of the towns and cities as they advanced. General Miles and his soldiers were everywhere welcomed gladly, for the people of this island did not like the Spanish soldiers any better than did the Cubans. By the 26th of July, the people of Spain had begun to realize that it was useless to carry on the war any longer. Accordingly, word was sent to President McKinley, by the French ambassador at Washington, M. Jules Cambon, that the Spanish government was ready to consider terms of peace. President McKinley and his cabinet at once drew up a paper called a protocol, which stated what the Spanish must do before the war could be ended. Spain was to give up all claim to Cuba, recall her officials and soldiers, and permit the people of the island to choose their own government. Porto Rico and all the Spanish islands in the West Indies were to be given to the United States. Spain was also to allow the Americans to hold the city of Manila until it should be decided, by a regular treaty, what should be done with the Philippine Islands. Five men from each country should be appointed to draw up the treaty, and in the meantime, as soon as Spain and the United States should sign the protocol, all fighting should cease. Spain was glad to get peace, even on these terms, and the protocol was duly signed by both governments on the 12th of August. Word was at once sent to the armies and navies to cease fighting. It was very easy to reach the American forces in Cuba and Porto Rico, but before the message could reach Admiral Dewey at Manila, it must be telegraphed to Hong Kong, China, and then sent by a dispatch boat to Manila. During the summer vessel after vessel had sailed from San Francisco, carrying the army of General Merritt to assist Admiral Dewey. War vessels and ammunition had also been sent. On the 13th of August, not having heard that peace had been declared, General Merritt ordered a combined attack of the army and navy to be made upon Manila. The vessels opened fire upon the Spanish fortifications which protected the town, while the troops of General Merritt drove the Spaniards back into the city. After two hours of sharp fighting the city surrendered. The Americans did not lose a single sailor, and only twelve soldiers were killed and forty wounded. The Spanish loss was much greater. In the afternoon the stars and stripes were hoisted over the government building and the Spanish soldiers marched out of the city and laid down their arms. Thus with a brilliant victory, Admiral Dewey closed the war as he had opened it. After the signing of the protocol Admiral Sampson and Commodore Schley sailed to New York with most of their squadrons to repair what little damage had been done. When they arrived on the 20th of August the city gave them a royal welcome. It was arranged that the warships should steam through the harbor and up the Hudson River as far as General Grant's tomb. Thus every one could see and greet the naval heroes. The people turned out by the tens of thousands and lined the shores cheering and waving flags. The harbor and river were filled with pleasure boats adorned with flags and streamers, while cannon on the shore thundered salutes. In all history there is not an instance of such great victories with so small a loss of men and ships as in this war with Spain. In less than three months the United States had driven the Spanish power from the western hemisphere. It had added new possessions in both hemispheres and had shown that it was entitled to rank with the most powerful nations of the earth. As soon as the people of the United States felt that peace was assured they held great jubilees in Chicago and Philadelphia. Triumphal arches were erected under which marched the heroes of the war, cheered to the echo by their fellow citizens. Several new battleships more powerful than any that had taken part in the recent splendid victories were launched, with imposing ceremonies, at Newport News, Virginia. From all this it would seem that the people of the United States at last realized that at all times, whether in peace or war, the country should have a powerful navy. This navy should be in keeping with the position that the United States has won among the nations of the world, and worthy of the brave officers and sailors who spend their lives in its service. X.--LIFE ON AN AMERICAN MAN-OF-WAR. When a battleship is hurling shot and shell at an enemy, the brave deeds of the officers and men on board are told from one end of the land to the other; but how many people know how these men live from day to day, when the great ship is lying in the harbor, or cruising peacefully about the seas? Who makes the lieutenant's bed and buys his food? Most people think that the government provides all that he needs; but this is not so. He must carry his own bed linen to sea with him and arrange for his own food. The officers choose one of their number to buy the provisions, and he must give good meals at one dollar a day for each man. At the end of the month, every officer pays this amount out of his salary. The first meal of the day is always eggs, and is served at any time from 7:30 until 8:30 in the morning. If ever a naval officer invites you to breakfast, he does not expect you to come to this meal. He calls a twelve o'clock luncheon breakfast, and will give you a substantial meal at that time. Dinner is served at 6 or 6:30, and, on the flagship, is accompanied by the band. The ward-room boys who wait upon the officers are almost all Japanese. Because their names are so hard to pronounce, every one is called "William." When the big ship is hurling shot and shell in time of battle, where is William? In the pantry washing dishes? No, indeed. Somebody must be down in the magazine putting the powder on the hoists which carry it up to the guns. This is William's work. In time of fire, it is he who holds the nozzle of the hose, or who brings hammocks to smother the flames. Now "Jacky," as the sailor man is called, does not provide his food or his bed-linen. His bed is a hammock, and it is a very different one from those we swing on our porches in summer. It is made of canvas, with ropes in the ends. He has a mattress and a blanket in his bed, and he always keeps them there. At five o'clock in the morning the bugle calls, and Jacky has six minutes in which to scramble out of his bed and get into his clothes. Then he must roll up his hammock and stow it away. Jacky then has some hard tack and coffee before he goes to work. From half-past five until six he does his laundry work. He wears white suits and must wash them himself; untidiness is never excused. The clothes are then hung so as to be dry for the inspection drill which will come at half-past nine. Then for one hour, the ship is scrubbed. Water pours over the decks in streams. Every nook and cranny is numbered, and each man has his own number to keep clean. By half-past seven there is nothing cleaner on land or sea. The ship shines from prow to stern, and the decks are clean enough to eat from. Every piece of metal is polished until it glitters in the sunlight. When this is finished, Jacky has his breakfast. The government allows thirty cents a day for the rations of each sailor. The paymaster serves out food enough to last several days or sometimes a week, and if the cook does not make this last the crew must go hungry. The sailors are divided into "messes," each mess having its own cook who is under the direction of the general ship's cook. Jacky has no table-cloth or napkins. He washes his own tin plate, cup, knife, fork, and spoon, when he has finished his hasty meal. At eight o'clock, he is dressed for the day, and the colors go up. From then until six o'clock in the evening he is busy with different drills and duties about the ship. In the evening, from six until eight o'clock, Jacky has an easy time. It is then that he takes his ease, smoking his pipe and singing his songs. At nine o'clock "taps" are sounded, and once more he rolls up in his hammock for the night. Saturday is mending day, and every man must do his own work. Some of the men make their own clothes, although there is a tailor on board. In the ship's crew there are also barbers, shoemakers, and printers. On Sunday morning, the captain goes about the ship and gravely inspects the men, and it is then that each one tries to look his best. Then they must all attend religious services, after which they rest most of the day. The marines on a ship-of-war are men about whom most people know nothing. A marine is not a sailor. He is a soldier who does duty on a warship. He is a kind of policeman, and sees that Jacky behaves himself. He wears a soldier's uniform and has soldier's drills. The marines have their own mess and their own sleeping space, forming a community of their own. Perhaps some boys and girls may think that the captain and his officers have a much easier time than Jacky or the marines. This is not so. In the first place, they had many studies to master before they could be officers. They had to learn a great deal about mathematics, mechanical and electrical engineering, navigation, gunnery, and international law. And then these studies are never ended; the progress that is made in them, each year all over the world, must be known by each officer. The officers are responsible for the lives of the crew and the safety of the ship. They must be ready to think and act quickly in emergencies. In hours of peril they never leave their posts. XI.--SOME FACTS ABOUT THE NAVY OF 1898. The Constitution of the United States provides that the President shall be commander-in-chief not only of the army but also of the navy. His chief assistant in the management of naval affairs is the Secretary of the Navy, who is also a member of his cabinet. In 1898 the Navy Department of the United States was just one hundred years old, having been organized in 1798 with Benjamin Stoddert as Secretary. The work of the department is divided among eight bureaus, as follows: 1. The Bureau of Yards and Docks, which is intrusted with the construction and maintenance of docks and wharves, and with all civil engineering work in the navy yards. 2. The Bureau of Navigation, which superintends the education of officers and men, controls the enlistment of men and apprentices, and directs the movements of ships and fleets. 3. The Bureau of Equipment, which attends to the manufacture of ropes, anchors, cables, and other articles required for the equipment of naval vessels, purchases coal for their use, and controls the Naval Observatory. 4. The Bureau of Ordnance, which has charge of the manufacture of guns and ammunition, also of torpedo stations and magazines. 5. The Bureau of Construction and Repair, which is charged with the building and repair of small boats and of the hulls of ships, and attends to the purchase of turrets and armor. 6. The Bureau of Steam Engineering, which directs the building and repairing of machinery in any way connected with the ships. 7. The Bureau of Medicine and Surgery, which designs, erects, and maintains naval hospitals and superintends their management. 8. The Bureau of Supplies and Accounts, which is responsible for the purchase and supply of all provisions and stores, and of the accounts relating to the same. Each of these bureaus is presided over by an officer of skill and experience, who, while he holds the office, has the rank of commodore. The United States has navy yards at Portsmouth, New Hampshire; Boston, Massachusetts; Brooklyn, New York; League Island, Pennsylvania; Norfolk, Virginia; Washington, District of Columbia; and Mare Island, California. At these navy yards ships are overhauled and repaired, machinery is adjusted and renewed, and stores of all kinds are provided. Here, too, on the receiving ships, the recruits are received and instructed. There are naval stations at Newport, Rhode Island; New London, Connecticut; Port Royal, South Carolina; Key West and Pensacola, Florida; and Puget Sound, Washington. At Indian Head, Maryland, is the naval proving-ground for the test of armor and guns. The Naval Observatory is at Washington, and was at first merely a depot for naval charts and instruments. In 1898, the highest officer in the American navy was the rear admiral. The other officers in their order, ranking downward, were commodores, captains, commanders, lieutenant commanders, lieutenants, lieutenants junior grade, and ensigns. All these are known as officers of the line. At the close of the year there were seven rear admirals, ten commodores, forty-one captains, and eighty-five commanders. The rank of rear admiral is equal to that of major general in the army. A commodore is equal to a brigadier general; a captain in the navy ranks with a colonel in the army; a commander ranks with a lieutenant colonel; and a lieutenant in the navy is equal to a captain in the army. The law provides that when an officer reaches the age of sixty-two years he must be retired from active service. One who has been disabled in the service, or who has served honorably for forty years and requests release, may also be retired. Officers on the retired list receive three-fourths as much pay as when on active duty at sea. Rear Admiral Dewey will be retired on the 26th of December, 1899. In 1898 there were thirty-three rear admirals on the retired lists. The officers while at sea receive more pay than when on shore duty. The salary of an ensign at sea is $1200 a year; that of a rear admiral is $6,000. The salaries of the other officers range between these two extremes. Previous to 1898 the number of enlisted men in the navy was limited to ten thousand. These men are received for a period of three years; and any one after serving continuously for twenty years may be assigned to duty in the navy yards, or on board receiving ships, or to other duties not requiring them to go far from home. All who have served thirty years are entitled to admittance in the Naval Home. The wages of enlisted men vary from $16 to $70 a month, according to the kind of work they perform. The law provides that seven hundred and fifty boys may be enlisted as apprentices in the navy. These are received only with the consent of their parents or guardians, and are required to serve until they are twenty-one years old. Besides the regular navy of the United States there is a naval militia organized in eighteen states. This militia is under the general direction of the Assistant Secretary of the Navy; and its duty in time of war is to man the vessels designed for coast and harbor defense. At the beginning of the year 1898 there were more than four thousand men and officers in the naval militia. During the war with Spain, most of these were mustered into the naval service and did duty on the war vessels or in the signal service along the coast. At the close of the year there were belonging to our government nine battleships, all of which had been built since 1890. Four others were in process of construction. The average cost of vessels of this class is about $3,500,000. Of other vessels in the navy of 1898, there were two armored cruisers which cost $2,986,000 each; one ram, the _Katahdin_; six double turreted monitors; thirteen single turreted monitors; seventeen protected cruisers; four unarmored cruisers; fifteen gunboats; and ten torpedo boats. Many other vessels of different classes were being built. All these were in active service, or soon to be so. But there were also several other vessels of the old-fashioned style which, although of little use in battle, were valuable in the various peaceful enterprises in which the navy is always engaged. Of such there were six old iron vessels and ten wooden frigates, all propelled by steam, and seventeen old wooden sailing vessels, some of which were used as receiving ships. During the war with Spain, many temporary additions were made to the navy. Eleven merchant vessels were bought or leased and converted into auxiliary cruisers. Among these were the four fast steamers of the American line, the _St. Louis_, the _St. Paul_, the _Yale_, and the _Harvard_. Twenty-eight yachts also were purchased and turned into auxiliary gunboats or torpedo boats. Among these was the _Gloucester_, which did such fine work during the destruction of Cervera's fleet. It had formerly been a pleasure yacht belonging to Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan of New York. In addition to the vessels just named, the government also bought twenty-seven tugs to be changed into gunboats or cruisers; and it obtained seventeen steam vessels of various sizes to be used as transports and for many other purposes. Altogether the navy of 1898 comprised an imposing collection of vessels of many kinds and of various degrees of efficiency. Of the work which it accomplished we have already learned. * * * * * THE FOUR GREAT AMERICANS SERIES Biographical Stories of Great Americans for Young Americans EDITED BY JAMES BALDWIN, Ph.D. In these biographical stories the lives of great Americans are presented in such a manner as to hold the attention of the youngest reader. In these lives the child finds the most inspiring examples of good citizenship and true patriotism. [Illustration] VOLUMES NOW READY: I. FOUR GREAT AMERICANS George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Daniel Webster, Abraham Lincoln. By JAMES BALDWIN, Ph.D. Cloth, 246 pages. Price, 50 cents II. FOUR AMERICAN PATRIOTS Patrick Henry, Alexander Hamilton, Andrew Jackson, U.S. Grant. By ALMA HOLMAN BURTON Author of The Story of Our Country, etc. Cloth, 256 pages. Price, 50 cents III. FOUR AMERICAN NAVAL HEROES Paul Jones, Oliver H. Perry, Admiral Farragut, Admiral Dewey. By MABEL BORTON BEEBE Cloth, 254 pages. Price, 50 cents OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY WERNER SCHOOL BOOK COMPANY The Lakeside Press R.R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY CHICAGO [Sidenote: THE BOOK OF THE HOUR for THE YOUTH OF AMERICA.... Just Published.] Lafayette, The Friend of American Liberty The proposal to erect a monument in Paris to the early friend of American liberty, GENERAL LAFAYETTE, by contributions from the patriotic school children of the United States, has aroused national enthusiasm for the memory of this noble man.... In view of the great interest which this fitting and significant movement has awakened in the life, character and services of the heroic soldier and patriot, the Werner School Book Company has just issued, edited by Dr. James Baldwin, "LAFAYETTE, THE FRIEND OF AMERICAN LIBERTY," By Mrs. ALMA HOLMAN BURTON, The author of "Four American Patriots," "The Story of Our Country," Etc. A TIMELY CONTRIBUTION OF GREAT VALUE TO PATRIOTIC EDUCATIONAL LITERATURE. Werner School Book ... Company ... Educational Publishers. CHICAGO: 378-388 Wabash Ave. NEW YORK: 78 Fifth Ave. BOSTON: 73 Tremont St. EPOCH-MAKING BOOKS TITLES OF SOME EPOCH-MAKING BOOKS, WITH PRICES AT WHICH THEY WILL BE MAILED, POSTPAID: The Werner Arithmetic, Book I. (Hall) $ 40 The Werner Arithmetic, Book II. (Hall) 40 The Werner Arithmetic, Book III. (Hall) 50 Teacher's Hand-Book to the Werner Arithmetics 25 Hall's Elementary Arithmetic 35 Hall's Complete Arithmetic 60 DeGarmo's Language Lessons, Book I 30 DeGarmo's Language Lessons, Book II 40 DeGarmo's Complete Language Lessons (One-Book Course) 50 Brown and DeGarmo's Elements of English Grammar 60 The Werner Introductory Geography (Tarbell) 55 The Werner Grammar School Geography, Parts I. and II. (Tarbell) 1 40 Baldwin's Primary Lessons in Physiology and Hygiene 35 Baldwin's Essential Lessons in Physiology and Hygiene 50 Baldwin's Advanced Lessons in Physiology and Hygiene 80 The Werner Primer (Taylor) 30 First Year Nature Reader (Beebe and Kingsley) 35 Old Time Stories Retold (Smythe) 30 Legends of the Red Children (Pratt) 30 Baldwin's Biographical Booklets (each) 10 Baldwin's Four Great Americans 50 Burton's Four American Patriots 50 Beebe's Four American Naval Heroes 50 Cody's Four American Poets 50 Winship's Great American Educators 50 Burton's Lafayette, the Friend of American Liberty 35 Burton's Story of Our Country 60 The Werner Mental Arithmetic 30 Giffin's Grammar School Algebra 50 Adams's Physical Laboratory Manual 75 Hinsdale's Studies in Education 1 00 Hinsdale's Training for Citizenship 10 Hinsdale's American Government 1 25 Hinsdale's History and Civil Government of Ohio 1 00 Barnard's History and Civil Government of Missouri 1 00 Lewis's History and Civil Government of West Virginia 1 00 Niles's History and Civil Government of Minnesota 1 00 Seerley and Parish's History and Civil Gov't of Iowa 1 00 Smith and Young's History and Civil Government of South Dakota 1 00 Stetson's History and Civil Government of Maine 1 00 Beebe's First School Year 75 Jackman's Nature Study Record 60 OTHER EPOCH-MAKING BOOKS IN PREPARATION WERNER SCHOOL BOOK COMPANY Educational Publishers NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON * * * * * Transcriber's notes: Punctuation normalized. Inconsistent hyphenation maintained as printed. On page 82 "Stoddart" replaced with "Stoddert" in "Stoddert as the first Secretary of the Navy". On page 247 "earn" changed to "learn". "They had to learn a great deal about mathematics". 
20910	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 20910-h.htm or 20910-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/0/9/1/20910/20910-h/20910-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/0/9/1/20910/20910-h.zip) Transcriber's note: Page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed in curly braces, e.g. {99}. They have been located where page breaks occurred in the original book. For its Index, a page number has been placed only at the start of that section. American Fights and Fighters Series SOUTH AMERICAN FIGHTS AND FIGHTERS And Other Tales of Adventure by CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY, LL. D. Illustrations by Seymour M. Stone, George Gibbs, W. J. Aylward and J. N. Marchand Together with Reproductions from Old Prints and Portraits [Frontispiece: "The Poor Little Governor . . . Distanced His Fierce Pursuers at Last"] Garden City -------- New York Doubleday, Page & Company MCMXIII All Rights Reserved, Including That of Translation into Foreign Languages, Including the Scandinavian Copyright, 1910, by Doubleday, Page & Company Published, April, 1910 To George William Beatty Good Fellow, Good Citizen Good Friend PREFACE The first part of this new volume of the _American Fights and Fighters Series_ needs no special introduction. Partly to make this the same size as the other books, but more particularly because I especially desired to give a permanent place to some of the most dramatic and interesting episodes in our history--especially as most of them related to the Pacific and the Far West--the series of papers in part second was included. "The Yarn of the _Essex_, Whaler" is abridged from a quaint account written by the Mate and published in an old volume which is long since out of print and very scarce. The papers on the _Tonquin_, John Paul Jones, and "The Great American Duellists" speak for themselves. The account of the battle of the Pitt River has never been published in book form heretofore. The last paper "On Being a Boy Out West" I inserted because I enjoy it myself, and because I have found that others young and old who have read it generally like it also. Thanks are due and are hereby extended to the following magazines for permission to republish various articles which originally appeared in their pages: _Harper's_, _Munseys_, _The Cosmopolitan_, _Sunset_ and _The New Era_. I project another volume of the Series supplementing the two Indian volumes immediately preceding this one, but the information is hard to get, and the work amid many other demands upon my time, proceeds slowly. CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY. ST. GEORGE'S RECTORY, Kansas City, Mo., February, 1910. CONTENTS PART I SOUTH AMERICAN FIGHTS AND FIGHTERS PAGE PANAMA AND THE KNIGHTS-ERRANT OF COLONIZATION I. THE SPANISH MAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 II. THE DON QUIXOTE OF DISCOVERERS AND HIS RIVAL . . . . 5 III. THE ADVENTURES OF OJEDA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 IV. ENTER ONE VASCO NUÑEZ DE BALBOA . . . . . . . . . . . 17 V. THE DESPERATE STRAITS OF NICUESA . . . . . . . . . . 20 PANAMA, BALBOA AND A FORGOTTEN ROMANCE I. THE COMING OF THE DEVASTATOR . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 II. THE GREATEST EXPLOIT SINCE COLUMBUS'S VOYAGE . . . . 34 III. "FUROR DOMINI" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 IV. THE END OF BALBOA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 PERU AND THE PIZARROS I. THE CHIEF SCION OF A FAMOUS FAMILY . . . . . . . . . 53 II. THE TERRIBLE PERSISTENCE OF PIZARRO . . . . . . . . . 57 III. "A COMMUNISTIC DESPOTISM" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68 IV. THE TREACHEROUS AND BLOODY MASSACRE OF CAXAMARCA . . 73 V. THE RANSOM AND MURDER OF THE INCA . . . . . . . . . . 85 VI. THE INCA AND THE PERUVIANS STRIKE VAINLY FOR FREEDOM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 VII. "THE MEN OF CHILI" AND THE CIVIL WARS . . . . . . . 102 VIII. THE MEAN END OF THE GREAT CONQUISTADOR . . . . . . 105 IX. THE LAST OF THE BRETHREN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 THE GREATEST ADVENTURE IN HISTORY I. THE CHIEF OF ALL THE SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE . . . . . 115 II. THE EXPEDITION TO MEXICO . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 III. THE RELIGION OF THE AZTECS . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 IV. THE MARCH TO TENOCHTITLAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130 V. THE REPUBLIC OF TLASCALA . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 VI. CORTES'S DESCRIPTION OF MEXICO . . . . . . . . . . 147 VII. THE MEETING WITH MONTEZUMA . . . . . . . . . . . . 162 VIII. THE SEIZURE OF THE EMPEROR . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 IX. THE REVOLT OF THE CAPITAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 X. IN GOD'S WAY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 XI. THE MELANCHOLY NIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 XII. THE SIEGE AND DESTRUCTION OF MEXICO . . . . . . . . 194 XIII. A DAY OF DESPERATE FIGHTING . . . . . . . . . . . . 198 XIV. THE LAST MEXICAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 XV. THE END OF CORTES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 PART II OTHER TALES OF ADVENTURE THE YARN OF THE "ESSEX," WHALER . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 SOME FAMOUS AMERICAN DUELS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245 I. A TRAGEDY OF OLD NEW YORK . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246 II. ANDREW JACKSON AS A DUELLIST . . . . . . . . . . . 248 III. THE KILLING OF STEPHEN DECATUR . . . . . . . . . . 251 IV. AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF JAMES BOWIE . . . . . . . 252 V. A FAMOUS CONGRESSIONAL DUEL . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 VI. THE LAST NOTABLE DUEL IN AMERICA . . . . . . . . . 256 THE CRUISE OF THE "TONQUIN" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 JOHN PAUL JONES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 I. THE BIRTH OF THE AMERICAN NAVY . . . . . . . . . . 283 II. JONES FIRST HOISTS THE STARS AND STRIPES . . . . . 284 III. THE BATTLE WITH THE "SERAPIS" . . . . . . . . . . . 285 IV. A HERO'S FAMOUS SAYINGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287 V. WHAT JONES DID FOR HIS COUNTRY . . . . . . . . . . 288 VI. WHY DID HE TAKE THE NAME OF JONES . . . . . . . . . 289 VII. A SEARCH FOR HISTORICAL EVIDENCE . . . . . . . . . 292 VIII. THE JONESES OF NORTH CAROLINA . . . . . . . . . . . 296 IX. PAUL JONES NEVER A MAN OF WEALTH . . . . . . . . . 297 IN THE CAVERNS OF THE PITT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 BEING A BOY OUT WEST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS "THE POOR LITTLE GOVERNOR . . . DISTANCED HIS FIERCE PURSUERS AT LAST" . . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ Drawing by Seymour M. Stone FACING PAGE "OJEDA GALLOPED OFF WITH HIS . . . CAPTIVE" . . . . . . . . 6 Drawing by Seymour M. Stone "THE INDIANS POURED A RAIN OF POISONED ARROWS" . . . . . . . 7 Drawing by Seymour M. Stone "BALBOA . . . ENGAGED IN SUPERINTENDING THE ROOFING OF A HOUSE" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 Drawing by George Gibbs "THE EXPEDITION HAD TO FIGHT ITS WAY THROUGH TRIBES OF WARLIKE AND FEROCIOUS MOUNTAINEERS" . . . . . . 35 Drawing by George Gibbs "HE TOOK POSSESSION OF THE SEA IN THE NAME OF CASTILE AND LEON" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Drawing by George Gibbs "HE THREW THE SACRED VOLUME TO THE GROUND IN A VIOLENT RAGE" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Drawing by George Gibbs "THEY BURST UPON THE RANKS OF THE UNARMED INDIANS" . . . . . 86 Drawing by George Gibbs "THE THREE PIZARROS . . . SALLIED OUT TO MEET THEM" . . . . 87 Drawing by George Gibbs "HE THREW HIS SOLE REMAINING WEAPON IN THE FACES OF THE ESCALADERS" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 Drawing by George Gibbs FERNANDO CORTES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 From a picture in the Florence Gallery THE DEATH OF MONTEZUMA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178 From an old engraving "HE DEFENDED HIMSELF WITH HIS TERRIBLE SPEAR" . . . . . . . 179 Drawing by George Gibbs "THE SHIP CAME TO A DEAD STOP" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Drawing by W. J. Aylward THE KILLING OF ALEXANDER HAMILTON BY AARON BURR . . . . . . 233 Drawing by J. N. Marchand _The publishers wish to acknowledge their indebtedness to The Cosmopolitan Magazine and Munsey's Magazine for permission to use several of the illustrations in this volume._ {3} PART I SOUTH AMERICAN FIGHTS AND FIGHTERS I Panama and the Knights-Errant of Colonization I. The Spanish Main One of the commonly misunderstood phrases in the language is "the Spanish Main." To the ordinary individual it suggests the Caribbean Sea. Although Shakespeare in "Othello," makes one of the gentlemen of Cyprus say that he "cannot 'twixt heaven and main descry a sail," and, therefore, with other poets, gives warrant to the application of the word to the ocean, "main" really refers to the other element. The Spanish Main was that portion of South American territory distinguished from Cuba, Hispaniola and the other islands, because it was on the main land. When the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea were a Spanish lake, the whole circle of territory, bordering thereon was the Spanish Main, but of late the title has been restricted to Central and South America. The buccaneers are those who made it famous. So the word brings up white-hot stories of battle, murder and sudden death. The history of the Spanish Main begins in 1509, with the voyages of Ojeda and Nicuesa, which were the first definite and authorized attempts to colonize the mainland of South America. The honor of being the first of the fifteenth-century {4} navigators to set foot upon either of the two American continents, indisputably belongs to John Cabot, on June 24, 1497. Who was next to make a continental landfall, and in the more southerly latitudes, is a question which lies between Columbus and Amerigo Vespucci. Fiske, in a very convincing argument awards the honor to Vespucci, whose first voyage (May 1497 to October 1498) carried him from the north coast of Honduras along the Gulf coast around Florida, and possibly as far north as the Chesapeake Bay, and to the Bahamas on his return. Markham scouts this claim. Winsor neither agrees nor dissents. His verdict in the case is a Scottish one, "Not proven." Who shall decide when the doctors disagree? Let every one choose for himself. As for me, I am inclined to agree with Fiske. If it were not Vespucci, it certainly was Columbus on his third voyage (1498-1500). On this voyage, the chief of the navigators struck the South American shore off the mouth of the Orinoco and sailed westward along it for a short distance before turning to the northward. There he found so many pearls that he called it the "Pearl Coast." It is interesting to note that, however the question may be decided, all the honors go to Italy. Columbus was a Genoese. Cabot, although born in Genoa, had lived many years in Venice and had been made a citizen there; while Vespucci was a Florentine. The first important expedition along the northern coast of South America was that of Ojeda in 1499-1500, in company with Juan de la Cosa, next to Columbus the most expert navigator and pilot of the age, and Vespucci, perhaps his equal in nautical science as he {5} was his superior in other departments of polite learning. There were several other explorations of the Gulf coast, and its continuations on every side, during the same year, by one of the Pizons, who had accompanied Columbus on his first voyage; by Lepe; by Cabral, a Portuguese, and by Bastidas and La Cosa, who went for the first time as far to the westward as Porto Rico on the Isthmus of Darien. On the fourth and last voyage of Columbus, he reached Honduras and thence sailed eastward and southward to the Gulf of Darien, having not the least idea that the shore line which he called Veragua was in fact the border of the famous Isthmus of Panama. There were a number of other voyages, including a further exploration by La Cosa and Vespucci, and a second by Ojeda in which an abortive attempt was made to found a colony; but most of the voyages were mere trading expeditions, slave-hunting enterprises or searches, generally fruitless, for gold and pearls. Ojeda reported after one of these voyages that the English were on the coast. Who these English were is unknown. The news, however, was sufficiently disquieting to Ferdinand, the Catholic--and also the Crafty!--who now ruled alone in Spain, and he determined to frustrate any possible English movement by planting colonies on the Spanish Main. II. The Don Quixote of Discoveries and His Rival Instantly two claimants for the honor of leading such an expedition presented themselves. The first Alonzo de Ojeda, the other Diego de Nicuesa. Two more extraordinary characters never went knight-erranting upon the seas. Ojeda was one of the {6} prodigious men of a time which was fertile in notable characters. Although small in stature, he was a man of phenomenal strength and vigor. He could stand at the foot of the Giralda in Seville and throw an orange over it, a distance of two hundred and fifty feet from the earth![1] Wishing to show his contempt for danger, on one occasion he ran out on a narrow beam projecting some twenty feet from the top of the same tower and there, in full view of Queen Isabella and her court, performed various gymnastic exercises, such as standing on one leg, _et cetera_, for the edification of the spectators, returning calmly and composedly to the tower when he had finished the exhibition. He was a magnificent horseman, an accomplished knight and an able soldier. There was no limit to his daring. He went with Columbus on his second voyage, and, single-handed, effected the capture of a powerful Indian cacique named Caonabo, by a mixture of adroitness, audacity and courage. Professing amity, he got access to the Indian, and, exhibiting some polished manacles, which he declared were badges of royalty, he offered to put them on the fierce but unsophisticated savage and then mount the chief on his own horse to show him off like a Spanish monarch to his subjects. The daring programme was carried out just exactly as it had been planned. When Ojeda had got the forest king safely fettered and mounted on his horse, he sprang up behind him, held him there firmly in spite of his efforts, and galloped off to Columbus with his astonished and disgusted captive. [Illustration: "Ojeda Galloped Off with His Astonished Captive"] {7} Neither of the voyages was successful. With all of his personal prowess, he was an unsuccessful administrator. He was poor, not to say penniless. He had two powerful friends, however. One was Bishop Fonseca, who was charged with the administration of affairs in the Indies, and the other was stout old Juan de la Cosa. These two men made a very efficient combination at the Spanish court, especially as La Cosa had some money and was quite willing to put it up, a prime requisite for the mercenary and niggardly Ferdinand's favor. [Illustration: "The Indians Poured a Rain of Poisoned Arrows"] The other claimant for the honor of leading the colony happened to be another man small in stature, but also of great bodily strength, although he scarcely equalled his rival in that particular. Nicuesa had made a successful voyage to the Indies with Ovando, and had ample command of means. He was a gentleman by birth and station--Ojeda was that also--and was grand carver-in-chief to the King's uncle! Among his other qualities for successful colonization were a beautiful voice, a masterly touch on the guitar and an exquisite skill in equitation. He had even taught his horse to keep time to music. Whether or not he played that music himself on the back of the performing steed is not recorded. Ferdinand was unable to decide between the rival claimants. Finally he determined to send out two expeditions. The Gulf of Uraba, now called the Gulf of Darien, was to be the dividing line between the two allotments of territory. Ojeda was to have that portion extending from the Gulf to the Cape de la Vela, which is just west of the Gulf of Venezuela. This territory was named new Andalusia. Nicuesa was to take that between the Gulf and the Cape Gracias á Dios off {8} Honduras. This section was denominated Golden Castile. Each governor was to fit out his expedition at his own charges. Jamaica was given to both in common as a point of departure and a base of supplies. The resources of Ojeda were small, but when he arrived at Santo Domingo with what he had been able to secure in the way of ships and men, he succeeded in inducing a lawyer named Encisco, commonly called the Bachelor[2] Encisco, to embark his fortune of several thousand gold castellanos, which he had gained in successful pleadings in the court in the litigious West Indies, in the enterprise. In it he was given a high position, something like that of District Judge. With this reënforcement, Ojeda and La Cosa equipped two small ships and two brigantines containing three hundred men and twelve horses.[3] They were greatly chagrined when the imposing armada of Nicuesa, comprising four ships of different sizes, but much larger than any of Ojeda's, and two brigantines carrying seven hundred and fifty men, sailed into the harbor of Santo Domingo. The two governors immediately began to quarrel. Ojeda finally challenged Nicuesa to a duel which should determine the whole affair. Nicuesa, who had everything to lose and nothing to gain by fighting, but who could not well decline the challenge, said that he was willing to fight him if Ojeda would put up what would popularly be known to-day in the pugilistic {9} circles as "a side bet" of five thousand castellanos to make the fight worth while.[4] Poor Ojeda could not raise another maravedi, and as nobody would stake him, the duel was off. Diego Columbus, governor of Hispaniola, also interfered in the game to a certain extent by declaring that the Island of Jamaica was his, and that he would not allow anybody to make use of it. He sent there one Juan de Esquivel, with a party of men to take possession of it. Whereupon Ojeda stoutly declared that when he had time he would stop at that island and if Esquivel were there, he would cut off his head. Finally on the 10th of November, 1509, Ojeda set sail, leaving Encisco to bring after him another ship with needed supplies. With Ojeda was Francisco Pizarro, a middle-aged soldier of fortune, who had not hitherto distinguished himself in any way. Hernando Cortez was to have gone along also, but fortunately for him, an inflammation of the knee kept him at home. Ojeda was in such a hurry to get to El Dorado--for it was in the territory to the southward of his allotment, that the mysterious city was supposed to be located--that he did not stop at Jamaica to take off Esquivel's head--a good thing for him, as it subsequently turned out. Nicuesa would have followed Ojeda immediately, but his prodigal generosity had exhausted even his large resources, and he was detained by clamorous creditors, the law of the island being that no one could leave it in debt. The gallant little meat-carver labored with success to settle various suits pending, and thought {10} he had everything compounded; but just as he was about to sail he was arrested for another debt of five hundred ducats. A friend at last advanced the money for him and he got away ten days after Ojeda. It would have been a good thing if no friend had ever interfered and he had been detained indefinitely at Hispaniola. III. The Adventures of Ojeda Ojeda made a landfall at what is known now as Cartagena. It was not a particularly good place for a settlement. There was no reason on earth why they should stay there at all. La Cosa, who had been along the coast several times and knew it thoroughly, warned his youthful captain--to whom he was blindly and devotedly attached, by the way--that the place was extremely dangerous; that the inhabitants were fierce, brave and warlike, and that they had a weapon almost as effectual as the Spanish guns. That was the poisoned arrow. Ojeda thought he knew everything and he turned a deaf ear to all remonstrances. He hoped he might chance upon an opportunity of surprising an Indian village and capturing a lot of inoffensive inhabitants for slaves, already a very profitable part of voyaging to the Indies. He landed without much difficulty, assembled the natives and read to them a perfectly absurd manifesto, which had been prepared in Spain for use in similar contingencies, summoning them to change their religion and to acknowledge the supremacy of Spain. Not one word of this did the natives understand and to it they responded with a volley of poisoned arrows. The Spanish considered this paper a most {11} valuable document, and always went through the formality of having the publication of it attested by a notary public. Ojeda seized some seventy-five captives, male and female, as slaves. They were sent on board the ships. The Indian warriors, infuriated beyond measure, now attacked in earnest the shore party, comprising seventy men, among whom were Ojeda and La Cosa. The latter, unable to prevent him, had considered it proper to go ashore with the hot-headed governor to restrain him so far as was possible. Ojeda impetuously attacked the Indians and, with part of his men, pursued them several miles inland to their town, of which he took possession. The savages, in constantly increasing numbers, clustered around the town and attacked the Spaniards with terrible persistence. Ojeda and his followers took refuge in huts and enclosures and fought valiantly. Finally all were killed, or fatally wounded by the envenomed darts except Ojeda himself and a few men, who retreated to a small palisaded enclosure. Into this improvised fort the Indians poured a rain of poisoned arrows which soon struck down every one but the governor himself. Being small of stature and extremely agile, and being provided with a large target or shield, he was able successfully to fend off the deadly arrows from his person. It was only a question of time before the Indians would get him and he would die in the frightful agony which his men experienced after being infected with the poison upon the arrow-points. In his extremity, he was rescued by La Cosa who had kept in hand a moiety of the shore party. The advent of La Cosa saved Ojeda. Infuriated at the slaughter of his men, Ojeda rashly and {12} intemperately threw himself upon the savages, at once disappearing from the view of La Cosa and his men, who were soon surrounded and engaged in a desperate battle on their own account. They, too, took refuge in the building, from which they were forced to tear away the thatched roof that might have shielded them from the poisoned arrows, in fear lest the Indians might set it on fire. And they in turn were also reduced to the direst of straits. One after another was killed, and finally La Cosa himself, who had been desperately wounded before, received a mortal hurt; while but one man remained on his feet. Possibly thinking that they had killed the whole party, and withdrawing to turn their attention to Ojeda, furiously ranging the forest alone, the Indians left the two surviving Spaniards unmolested, whereupon the dying La Cosa bade his comrade leave him, and if possible get word to Ojeda of the fate which had overtaken him. This man succeeded in getting back to the shore and apprised the men there of the frightful disaster. The ships cruised along the shore, sending parties into the bay at different points looking for Ojeda and any others who might have survived. A day or two after the battle they came across their unfortunate commander. He was lying on his back in a grove of mangroves, upheld from the water by the gnarled and twisted roots of one of the huge trees. He had his naked sword in his hand and his target on his arm, but he was completely prostrated and speechless. The men took him to a fire, revived him and finally brought him back to the ship. Marvelous to relate, he had not a single wound upon him! {13} Great was the grief of the little squadron at this dolorous state of affairs. In the middle of it, the ships of Nicuesa hove in sight. Mindful of their previous quarrels, Ojeda decided to stay ashore until he found out what were Nicuesa's intentions toward him. Cautiously his men broke the news to Nicuesa. With magnanimity and courtesy delightful to contemplate, he at once declared that he had forgotten the quarrel and offered every assistance to Ojeda to enable him to avenge himself. Ojeda thereupon rejoined the squadron, and the two rivals embraced with many protestations of friendship amid the acclaim of their followers. The next night, four hundred men were secretly assembled. They landed and marched to the Indian town, surrounded it and put it to the flames. The defenders fought with their usual resolution, and many of the Spaniards were killed by the poisonous arrows, but to no avail. The Indians were doomed, and the whole village perished then and there. Nicuesa had landed some of his horses, and such was the terror inspired by those remarkable and unknown animals that several of the women who had escaped from the fire, when they caught sight of the frightful monsters, rushed back into the flames, preferring this horrible death rather than to meet the horses. The value of the plunder amounted to eighteen thousand dollars in modern money, the most of which Nicuesa took. The two adventurers separated, Nicuesa bidding Ojeda farewell and striking boldly across the Caribbean for Veragua, which was the name Columbus had given to the Isthmian coast below Honduras; while Ojeda crept along the shore seeking a convenient {14} spot to plant his colony. Finally he established himself at a place which he named San Sebastian. One of his ships was wrecked and many of his men were lost. Another was sent back to Santo Domingo with what little treasure they had gathered and with an appeal to Encisco to hurry up. They made a rude fort on the shore, from which to prosecute their search for gold and slaves. The Indians, who also belonged to the poisoned-arrow fraternity, kept the fort in constant anxiety. Many were the conflicts between the Spaniards and the savages, and terrible were the losses inflicted by the invaders; but there seemed to be no limit to the number of Indians, while every Spaniard killed was a serious drain upon the little party. Man after man succumbed to the effects of the dreadful poison. Ojeda, who never spared himself in any way, never received a wound. From their constant fighting, the savages got to recognize him as the leader and they used all their skill to compass destruction. Finally, they succeeded in decoying him into an ambush where four of their best men had been posted. Recklessly exposing themselves, the Indians at close range opened fire upon their prisoner with arrows. Three of the arrows he caught on his buckler, but the fourth pierced his thigh. It is surmised that Ojeda attended to the four Indians before taking cognizance of his wound. The arrow, of course, was poisoned, and unless something could be done, it meant death. He resorted to a truly heroic expedient. He caused two iron plates to be heated white-hot and then directed the surgeon to apply the plates to the wound, one at the entrance and the other at the exit of the arrow. {15} The surgeon, appalled by the idea of such torture, refused to do so, and it was not until Ojeda threatened to hang him with his own hands that he consented. Ojeda bore the frightful agony without a murmur or a quiver, such was his extraordinary endurance. It was the custom in that day to bind patients who were operated upon surgically, that their involuntary movements might not disconcert the doctors and cause them to wound where they hoped to cure. Ojeda refused even to be bound. The remedy was efficacious, although the heat of the iron, in the language of the ancient chronicler, so entered his system that they used a barrel of vinegar to cool him off. Ojeda was very much dejected by the fact that he had been wounded. It seemed to him that the Virgin, his patron, had deserted him. The little band, by this time reduced to less than one hundred people, was in desperate straits. Starvation stared it in the face when fortunately assistance came. One Bernardino de Talavera, with seventy congenial cut-throats, absconding debtors and escaped criminals, from Hispaniola, had seized a Genoese trading-ship loaded with provisions and had luckily reached San Sebastian in her. They sold these provisions to Ojeda and his men at exorbitant prices, for some of the hard-earned treasure which they had amassed with their great expenditure of life and health. There was no place else for Talavera and his gang to go, so they stayed at San Sebastian. The supply of provisions was soon exhausted, and finally it was evident that, as Encisco had not appeared with any reënforcements or supplies, some one must go back to Hispaniola to bring rescue to the party. Ojeda offered to do this himself. Giving the charge of affairs at {16} San Sebastian to Francisco Pizarro, who promised to remain there for fifty days for the expected help, he embarked with Talavera. Naturally Ojeda considered himself in charge of the ship; naturally Talavera did not. Ojeda, endeavoring to direct things, was seized and put in chains by the crew. He promptly challenged the whole crew to a duel, offering to fight them two at a time in succession until he had gone through the ship, of which he expected thereby to become the master; although what he would have done with seventy dead pirates on the ship is hard to see. The men refused this wager of battle, but fortune favored this doughty little cavalier, for presently a great storm arose. As neither Talavera nor any of the men were navigators or seamen, they had to release Ojeda. He took charge. Once he was in charge, they never succeeded in ousting him. In spite of his seamanship, the caravel was wrecked on the island of Cuba. They were forced to make their way along the shore, which was then unsettled by Spain. Under the leadership of Ojeda the party struggled eastward under conditions of extreme hardship. When they were most desperate, Ojeda, who had appealed daily to his little picture of the Virgin, which he always carried with him, and had not ceased to urge the others to do likewise, made a vow to establish a shrine and leave the picture at the first Indian village they came to if they got succor there. Sure enough, they did reach a place called Cueyabos, where they were hospitably received by the Indians, and where Ojeda, fulfilling his vow, erected a log hut, or shrine, in the recess of which he left, with much regret, the picture of the Virgin which had accompanied {17} him on his wanderings and adventures. Means were found to send word to Jamaica, still under the governorship of Esquivel, whose head Ojeda had threatened to cut off when he met him. Magnanimously forgetting the purpose of the broken adventurer, Esquivel despatched a ship to bring him to Jamaica. We may be perfectly sure that Ojeda said nothing about the decapitation when the generous hearted Esquivel received him with open arms. Ojeda with Talavera and his comrades were sent back to Santo Domingo. There Talavera and the principal men of his crew were tried for piracy and executed. Ojeda found that Encisco had gone. He was penniless, discredited and thoroughly downcast by his ill fortune. No one would advance him anything to send succor to San Sebastian. His indomitable spirit was at last broken by his misfortunes. He lingered for a short time in constantly increasing ill health, being taken care of by the good Franciscans, until he died in the monastery. Some authorities say he became a monk; others deny it; it certainly is quite possible. At any rate, before he died he put on the habit of the order, and after his death, by his own direction, his body was buried before the gate, so that those who passed through it would have to step over his remains. Such was the tardy humility with which he endeavoured to make up for the arrogance and pride of his exciting life. IV. Enter One Vasco Nuñez de Balboa Encisco, coasting along the shore with a large ship, carrying reënforcements and loaded with provisions for the party, easily followed the course of Ojeda's {18} wanderings, and finally ran across the final remnants of his expedition in the harbor of Cartagena. The remnant was crowded into a single small, unseaworthy brigantine under the command of Francisco Pizarro. Pizarro had scrupulously kept faith with Ojeda. He had done more. He had waited fifty days, and then, finding that the two brigantines left to him were not large enough to contain his whole party, by mutual agreement of the survivors clung to the death-laden spot until a sufficient number had been killed or had died to enable them to get away in the two ships. They did not have to wait long, for death was busy, and a few weeks after the expiration of the appointed time they were all on board. There is something terrific to the imagination in the thought of that body of men sitting down and grimly waiting until enough of them should die to enable the rest to get away! What must have been the emotions that filled their breasts as the days dragged on? No one knew whether the result of the delay would enable him to leave, or cause his bones to rot on the shore. Cruel, fierce, implacable as were these Spaniards, there is something Homeric about them in such crises as these. That was not the end of their misfortunes, for one of the two brigantines was capsized. The old chroniclers say that the boat was struck by a great fish. That is a fish story, which, like most fish stories, it is difficult to credit. At any rate, sink it did, with all on board, and Pizarro and about thirty men were all that were left of the gallant three hundred who had followed the doughty Ojeda in the first attempt to colonize South America. Encisco was for hanging them at once, believing that {19} they had murdered and deserted Ojeda, but they were able to convince him at last of the strict legality of their proceedings. Taking command of the expedition himself, as being next in rank to Ojeda, the Bachelor led them back to San Sebastian. Unfortunately, before the unloading of his ship could be begun, she struck a rock and was lost; and the last state of the men, therefore, was as bad as the first. Among the men who had come with Encisco was a certain Vasco Nuñez, commonly called Balboa. He had been with Bastidas and La Cosa on their voyage to the Isthmus nine years before. The voyage had been a profitable one and Balboa had made money out of it. He had lost all his money, however, and had eked out a scanty living on a farm at Hispaniola, which he had been unable to leave because he was in debt to everybody. The authorities were very strict in searching every vessel that cleared from Santo Domingo, for absconders. The search was usually conducted after the vessel had got to sea, too! Balboa caused himself to be conveyed aboard the ship in a provision cask. No one suspected anything, and when the officers of the boat had withdrawn from the ship and Hispaniola was well down astern, he came forth. Encisco, who was a pettifogger of the most pronounced type, would have dealt harshly with him, but there was nothing to do after all. Balboa could not be sent back, and besides, he was considered a very valuable reënforcement on account of his known experience and courage. It was he who now came to the rescue of the wretched colonists at San Sebastian by telling them that across the Gulf of Darien there was an Indian tribe with many villages and much gold. Furthermore, these {20} Indians, unfortunately for them, were not acquainted with the use of poisoned arrows. Balboa urged them to go there. His suggestion was received with cheers. The brigantines, and such other vessels as they could construct quickly, were got ready and the whole party took advantage of the favorable season to cross the Gulf of Darien to the other side, to the present territory of Panama which has been so prominent in the public eye of late. This was Nicuesa's domain, but nobody considered that at the time. They found the Indian villages which Balboa had mentioned, fought a desperate battle with Cacique Cemaco, captured the place, and discovered quantities of gold castellanos (upward of twenty-five thousand dollars). They built a fort, and laid out a town called Maria de la Antigua del Darien--the name being almost bigger than the town! Balboa was in high favor by this time, and when Encisco got into trouble by decreeing various oppressive regulations and vexatious restrictions, attending to things in general with a high hand, they calmly deposed him on the ground that he had no authority to act, since they were on the territory of Nicuesa. To this logic, which was irrefutable, poor Encisco could make no reply. Pending the arrival of Nicuesa they elected Balboa and one Zamudio, a Biscayan, to take charge of affairs. The time passed in hunting and gathering treasure, not unprofitably and, as they had plenty to eat, not unpleasantly. V. The Desperate Straits of Nicuesa Now let us return to Nicuesa. Making a landfall, Nicuesa, with a small caravel, attended by the two {21} brigantines, coasted along the shore seeking a favorable point for settlement. The large ships, by his orders, kept well out to sea. During a storm, Nicuesa put out to sea himself, imagining that the brigantines under the charge of Lope de Olano, second in command would follow him. When morning broke and the storm disappeared there were no signs of the ships or brigantines. Nicuesa ran along the shore to search for them, got himself embayed in the mouth of a small river, swollen by recent rains, and upon the sudden subsidence of the water coincident with the ebb of the tide, his ship took ground, fell over on her bilge and was completely wrecked. The men on board barely escaped with their lives to the shore. They had saved nothing except what they wore, the few arms they carried and one small boat. Putting Diego de Ribero and three sailors in the boat and directing them to coast along the shore, Nicuesa with the rest struggled westward in search of the two brigantines and the other three ships. They toiled through interminable forests and morasses for several days, living on what they could pick up in the way of roots and grasses, without discovering any signs of the missing vessels. Coming to an arm of the sea, supposed to be Chiriqui Lagoon off Costa Rica, in the course of their journeyings, they decided to cross it in a small boat rather than make the long detour necessary to get to what they believed to be the other side. They were ferried over to the opposite shore in the boat, and to their dismay discovered that they were upon an almost desert island. It was too late and they were too tired, to go farther that night, so they resolved to pass the night on the {22} island. In the morning they were appalled to find that the little boat, with Ribero and the three sailors, was gone. They were marooned on a desert island with practically nothing to eat and nothing but brackish swamp water to drink. The sailors they believed to have abandoned them. They gave way to transports of despair. Some in their grief threw themselves down and died forthwith. Others sought to prolong life by eating herbs, roots and the like. They were reduced to the condition of wild animals, when a sail whitened the horizon, and presently the two brigantines dropped anchor near the island. Ribero was no recreant. He had been convinced that Nicuesa was going farther and farther from the ships with every step that he took, and, unable to persuade him of that fact, he deliberately took matters into his own hands and retraced his course. The event justified his decision, for he soon found the brigantines and the other ships. Olano does not seem to have bestirred himself very vigorously to seek for Nicuesa, perhaps because he hoped to command himself; but when Ribero made his report he at once made for the island, which he reached just in time to save the miserable remnant from dying of starvation. As soon as he could command himself, Nicuesa, whose easy temper and generous disposition had left him under the hardships and misfortunes he had sustained, sentenced Olano to death. By the pleas of his comrades, the sentence was mitigated, and the wretched man was bound in chains and forced to grind corn for the rest of the party--when there was any to grind. To follow Nicuesa's career further would be simply to chronicle the story of increasing disaster. He lost {23} ship after ship and man after man. Finally reduced in number to one hundred men, one of the sailors, which had been with Columbus remembered the location of Porto Rico as being a haven where they might establish themselves in a fertile and beautiful country, well-watered and healthy. Columbus had left an anchor under the tree to mark the place, and when they reached it they found that the anchor had remained undisturbed all the years. They were attacked by the Indians there, and after losing twenty killed, were forced to put to sea in two small brigantines and a caravel, which they had made from the wrecks of their ships. Coasting along the shore, they came at last to an open roadstead where they could debark. "In the name of God," said the disheartened Nicuesa, "let us stop here." There they landed, called the place after their leader's exclamation, Nombre de Dios. The caravel, with a crew of the strongest, was despatched for succour, and was never heard of again. One day, the colonists of Antigua were surprised by the sound of a cannon shot. They fired their own weapons in reply, and soon two ships carrying reënforcements for Nicuesa under Rodrigo de Colmenares, dropped anchor in front of the town. By this time the colonists had divided into factions, some favoring the existing régime, others inclining toward the still busy Encisco, others desirous of putting themselves under the command of Nicuesa, whose generosity and sunny disposition were still affectionately remembered. The arrival of Colmenares and his party, gave the Nicuesa faction a decided preponderance; and, taking things in their own hands, they determined to despatch one of the ships, with two {24} representatives of the colony, up the coast in search of the governor. This expedition found Nicuesa without much difficulty. Again the rescuing ship arrived just in time. In a few days more, the miserable body of men, reduced now to less than sixty, would have perished of starvation. Nicuesa's spirit had not been chastened by his unparalleled misfortunes. He not only accepted the proffered command of the colony--which was no more than his right, since it was established on his own territory--but he did more. When he heard that the colonists had amassed a great amount of gold by trading and thieving, he harshly declared that, as they had no legitimate right there, he would take their portion for himself; that he would stop further enterprises on their part--in short, he boastfully declared his intention of carrying things with a high hand in a way well calculated to infuriate his voluntary subjects. So arrogant was his bearing and so tactless and injudicious his talk, that the envoys from Antigua fled in the night with one of the ships and reported the situation to the colony. Olano, still in chains, found means to communicate with his friends in the other party. Naturally he painted the probable conduct of the governor in anything but flattering colors. All this was most impolitic in Nicuesa. He seemed to have forgotten that profound political principle which suggests that a firm seat in the saddle should be acquired before any attempts should be made to lead the procession. The fable of "King Stork and the Frogs" was applicable to the situation of the colonists. In this contingency they did not know quite what to do. It was Balboa who came to their rescue again. {25} He suggested that, although they had invited him, they need not permit Nicuesa to land. Accordingly, when Nicuesa hove in sight in the other ship, full of determination to carry things in his own way, they prevented him from coming ashore. Greatly astonished, he modified his tone somewhat, but to no avail. It was finally decided among the colonists to allow him to land in order to seize his person. Arrangements were made accordingly, and the unsuspicious Nicuesa debarked from his ship the day after his arrival. He was immediately surrounded by a crowd of excited soldiers menacing and threatening him. It was impossible for him to make headway against them. He turned and fled. Among his other gubernatorial accomplishments was a remarkable fleetness of foot. The poor little governor scampered over the sands at a great pace. He distanced his fierce pursuers at last and escaped to the temporary shelter of the woods. Balboa, a gentleman by birth and by inclination as well--who had, according to some accounts, endeavored to compose the differences between Nicuesa and the colonists--was greatly touched and mortified at seeing so brave a cavalier reduced to such an undignified and desperate extremity. He secretly sought Nicuesa that night and profferred him his services. Then he strove valiantly to bring about an adjustment between the fugitive and the brutal soldiery, but in vain. Nicuesa, abandoning all his pretensions, at last begged them to receive him, if not as a governor, at least as a companion-at-arms, a volunteer. But nothing, neither the influence of Balboa nor the entreaties {26} of Nicuesa, could mitigate the anger of the colonists. They would not have the little governor with them on any terms. They would have killed him then and there, but Balboa, by resorting to harsh measures, even causing one man to be flogged for his insolence, at last changed that purpose into another--which, to be sure, was scarcely less hazardous for Nicuesa. He was to be given a ship and sent away forever from the Isthmus. Seventeen adherents offered manfully to share his fate. Protesting against the legality of the action, appealing to them to give him a chance for humanity's sake, poor Nicuesa was hurried aboard a small, crazy bark, the weakest of the wretched brigantines in the harbor. This was a boat so carelessly constructed that the calking of the seams had been done with a blunt iron. With little or no provisions, Nicuesa and his faithful seventeen were forced to put to sea amid the jeers and mockery of the men on shore. The date was March 1, 1511. According to the chroniclers, the last words that those left on the island heard Nicuesa say were, "Show thy face, O Lord, and we shall be saved." [5] A pathetic and noble departure! Into the misty deep then vanished poor Nicuesa and his faithful followers on that bright sunny spring morning. And none of them ever came back to tell the tale of what became of them. Did they die of starvation in their crazy brigantine, drifting on and on while they rotted in the blazing sun, until her seams opened and she sank? Did they founder in one of the sudden and fierce storms which sometimes swept {27} that coast? Did the deadly teredo bore the ship's timbers full of holes, until she went down with all on board? Were they cast on shore to become the prey of Indians whose enmity they had provoked by their own conduct? No one ever knew. It was reported that years afterward on the coast of Veragua some wandering adventurers found this legend, almost undecipherable, cut in the bark of a tree, "_Aqui anduvo el desdichado Diego de Nicuesa_," which may be translated, "Here was lost the unfortunate Diego de Nicuesa." But the statement is not credited. The fate of the gallant little gentleman is one of the mysteries of the sea. Of the original eleven hundred men who sailed with the two governors there remained perhaps thirty of Ojeda's and forty of Nicuesa's at Antigua with Encisco's command. This was the net result of the first two years of effort at the beginning of government in South America on the Isthmus of Panama, with its ocean on the other side still undreamed of. What these men did there, and how Balboa rose to further prominence, his great exploits, and finally how unkind Fate also overtook him, will form the subject of the next paper. [1] At least, the assertion is gravely made by the ancient chroniclers. I wonder what kind of an outfielder he would have made today. [2] From the Spanish word "bachiller," referring to an inferior degree in the legal profession. [3] In the absence of particular information, I suppose the ships to be small caravels of between fifty and sixty tons, and the brigantines much smaller, open, flat-bottomed boats with but one mast--although a modern brigantine is a two-masted vessel. [4] The castellano was valued at two dollars and fifty-six cents, but the purchasing power of that sum was much greater then than now. The maravedi was the equivalent of about one-third of a cent. [5] Evidently he was quoting the exquisite measures of the Eightieth Psalm, one of the most touching appeals of David the Poet-King, in which he says over and over again, "Turn us again, O God, and cause Thy Face to shine, and we shall be saved." {31} II Panama, Balboa and a Forgotten Romance I. The Coming of the Devastator This is the romantic history of Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, the most knightly and gentle of the Spanish discoverers, and one who would fain have been true to the humble Indian girl who had won his heart, even though his life and liberty were at stake. It is almost the only love story in early Spanish-American history, and the account of it, veracious though it is, reads like a novel or a play. After Diego de Nicuesa had sailed away from Antigua on that enforced voyage from which he never returned, Vasco Nuñez de Balboa was supreme on the Isthmus. Encisco, however, remained to make trouble. In order to secure internal peace before prosecuting some further expeditions, Balboa determined to send him back to Spain, as the easiest way of getting rid of his importunities and complaints. A more truculent commander would have no difficulty in inventing a pretext for taking off his head. A more prudent captain would have realized that Encisco with his trained mouth could do very much more harm to him in Spain than he could in Darien. Balboa thought to nullify that possibility, however, by sending Valdivia, with a present, to Hispaniola, and Zamudio {32} with the Bachelor to Spain to lay the state of affairs before the King. Encisco was a much better advocate than Balboa's friend Zamudio, and the King of Spain credited the one and disbelieved the other. He determined to appoint a new governor for the Isthmus, and decided that Balboa should be proceeded against rigorously for nearly all the crimes in the decalogue, the most serious accusation being that to him was due the death of poor Nicuesa. For by this time everybody was sure that the poor little meat-carver was no more. An enterprise against the French which had been declared off filled Spain with needy cavaliers who had started out for an adventure and were greatly desirous of having one. Encisco and Zamudio had both enflamed the minds of the Spanish people with fabulous stories of the riches of Darien. It was curiously believed that gold was so plentiful that it could be fished up in nets from the rivers. Such a piscatorial prospect was enough to unlock the coffers of a prince as selfish as Ferdinand. He was willing to risk fifty thousand ducats in the adventure, which was to be conducted on a grand scale. No such expedition to America had ever been prepared before as that destined for Darien. Among the many claimants for its command, he picked out an old cavalier named Pedro Arias de Avila, called by the Spaniards Pedrarias.[1] This Pedrarias was seventy-two years old. He was of good birth and rich, and was the father of a large and interesting family, which he prudently left behind him in Spain. His wife, however, insisted on going {33} with him to the New World. Whether or not this was a proof of wifely devotion--and if it was, it is the only thing in history to his credit--or of an unwillingness to trust Pedrarias out of her sight, which is more likely, is not known. At any rate, she went along. Pedrarias, up to the time of his departure from Spain, had enjoyed two nick-names, El Galan and El Justador. He had been a bold and dashing cavalier in his youth, a famous tilter in tournaments in his middle age, and a hard-fighting soldier all his life. His patron was Bishop Fonseca. Whatever qualities he might possess for the important work about to be devolved upon him would be developed later. His expedition included from fifteen hundred to two thousand souls, and there were at least as many more who wanted to go and could not for lack of accommodations. The number of ships varies in different accounts from nineteen to twenty-five. The appointments both of the general expedition and the cavaliers themselves were magnificent in the extreme. Many afterward distinguished in America went in Pedrarias's command, chief among them being De Soto. Among others were Quevedo, the newly appointed Bishop of Darien, and Espinosa, the judge. The first fleet set sail on the 11th of April, 1514, and arrived at Antigua without mishap on the 29th of June in the same year. The colony at that place, which had been regularly laid out as a town with fortifications and with some degree at least of European comfort, numbered some three hundred hard-bitten soldiers. The principle of the survival of the fittest had resulted in the selection of the best men from all the previous expeditions. They would have been a {34} dangerous body to antagonize. Pedrarias was in some doubt as to how Balboa would receive him. He dissembled his intentions toward him, therefore, and sent an officer ashore to announce the meaning of the flotilla which whitened the waters of the bay. The officer found Balboa, dressed in a suit of pajamas engaged in superintending the roofing of a house. The officer, brilliant in silk and satin and polished armour, was astonished at the simplicity of Vasco Nuñez's appearance. He courteously delivered his message, however, to the effect that yonder was the fleet of Don Pedro Arias de Avila, the new Governor of Darien. [Illustration: "Balboa . . . Engaged in Superintending the Roofing of a House"] Balboa calmly bade the messenger tell Pedrarias that he could come ashore in safety and that he was very welcome. Balboa was something of a dissembler himself on occasion, as you will see. Pedrarias thereupon debarked in great state with his men, and, as soon as he firmly got himself established on shore, arrested Balboa and presented him for trial before Espinosa for the death of Nicuesa. II. The Greatest Exploit since Columbus's Voyage During all this long interval, Balboa had not been idle. A singular change had taken place in his character. He had entered upon the adventure in his famous barrel on Encisco's ship as a reckless, improvident, roisterous, careless, hare-brained scapegrace. Responsibility and opportunity had sobered and elevated him. While he had lost none of his dash and daring and brilliancy, yet he had become a wise, a prudent and a most successful captain. Judged by the high standard of the modern times, Balboa was {35} cruel and ruthless enough to merit our severe condemnation. Judged by his environments and contrasted with any other of the Spanish conquistadores he was an angel of light. [Illustration: "The Expedition Had to Fight Its Way Through Tribes of Warlike and Ferocious Mountaineers"] He seems to have remained always a generous, affectionate, open-hearted soldier. He had conducted a number of expeditions after the departure of Nicuesa to different parts of the Isthmus, and he amassed much treasure thereby, but he always so managed affairs that he left the Indian chiefs in possession of their territory and firmly attached to him personally. There was no indiscriminate murder, outrage or plunder in his train, and the Isthmus was fairly peaceable. Balboa had tamed the tempers of the fierce soldiery under him to a remarkable degree, and they had actually descended to cultivating the soil between periods of gold-hunting and pearl-fishing. The men under him were devotedly attached to him as a rule, although here and there a malcontent, unruly soldier, restless under the iron discipline, hated his captain. Fortunately he had been warned by a letter from Zamudio, who had found means to send it via Hispaniola, of the threatening purpose of Pedrarias and the great expedition. Balboa stood well with the authorities in Hispaniola. Diego Columbus had given him a commission as Vice-Governor of Darien, so that as Darien was clearly within Diego Columbus's jurisdiction, Balboa was strictly under authority. The news in Zamudio's letter was very disconcerting. Like every Spaniard, Vasco Nuñez knew that he could expect little mercy and scant justice from a trial conducted under such auspices as Pedrarias's. He determined, therefore, to secure himself in his position by some splendid achievement, which would so work upon the {36} feelings of the King that he would be unable, for very gratitude, to press hard upon him. The exploit that he meditated and proposed to accomplish was the discovery of the ocean upon the other side of the Isthmus. When Nicuesa came down from Nombre de Dios, he left there a little handful of men. Balboa sent an expedition to rescue them and brought them down to Antigua. Either on that expedition or on another shortly afterward, two white men painted as Indians discovered themselves to Balboa in the forest. They proved to be Spaniards who had fled from Nicuesa to escape punishment for some fault they had committed and had sought safety in the territory of an Indian chief named Careta, the Cacique of Cueva. They had been hospitably received and adopted into the tribe. In requital for their entertainment, they offered to betray the Indians if Vasco Nuñez, the new governor, would condone their past offenses. They filled the minds of the Spaniards, alike covetous and hungry, with stories of great treasures and what was equally valuable, abundant provisions, in Coreta's village. Balboa immediately consented. The act of treachery was consummated and the chief captured. All that, of course, was very bad, but the difference between Balboa and the men of his time is seen in his after conduct. Instead of putting the unfortunate chieftain to death and taking his people for slaves, Balboa released him. The reason he released him was because of a woman--a woman who enters vitally into the subsequent history of Vasco Nuñez, and indeed of the whole of South America. This was the beautiful daughter of the chief. Anxious to propitiate his captor, Careta offered Balboa this flower of the family {37} to wife. Balboa saw her, loved her and took her to himself. They were married in accordance with the Indian custom; which, of course, was not considered in the least degree binding by the Spaniards of that time. But it is to Balboa's credit that he remained faithful to this Indian girl. Indeed, if he had not been so much attached to her it is probable that he might have lived to do even greater things than he did. In his excursions throughout the Isthmus, Balboa had met a chief called Comagre. As everywhere, the first desire of the Spanish was gold. The metal had no commercial value to the Indians. They used it simply to make ornaments, and when it was not taken from them by force, they were cheerfully willing to exchange it for beads, trinkets, hawks' bells, and any other petty trifles. Comagre was the father of a numerous family of stalwart sons. The oldest, observing the Spaniards brawling and fighting--"brabbling," Peter Martyr calls it--about the division of gold, with an astonishing degree of intrepidity knocked over the scales at last and dashed the stuff on the ground in contempt. He made amends for his action by telling them of a country where gold, like Falstaff's reasons, was as plenty as blackberries. Incidentally he gave them the news that Darien was an isthmus, and that the other side was swept by a vaster sea than that which washed its eastern shore. These tidings inspired Balboa and his men. They talked long and earnestly with the Indians and fully satisfied themselves of the existence of a great sea and of a far-off country abounding in treasure on the other side. Could it be that mysterious Cipango of Marco Polo, search for which had been the object of Columbus's voyage? The way there was discussed and the {38} difficulties of the journey estimated, and it was finally decided that at least one thousand Spaniards would be required safely to cross the Isthmus. Balboa had sent an account of this conversation to Spain, asking for the one thousand men. The account reached there long before Pedrarias sailed, and to it, in fact, was largely due the extensive expedition. Now when Balboa learned from Zamudio of what was intended toward him in Spain, he determined to undertake the discovery himself. He set forth from Antigua the 1st of September, 1513, with a hundred and ninety chosen men, accompanied by a pack of bloodhounds, very useful in fighting savages, and a train of Indian slaves. Francisco Pizarro was his second in command. All this in lieu of the one thousand Spaniards for which he had asked, which was not thought to be too great a number. The difficulties to be overcome were almost incredible. The expedition had to fight its way through tribes of warlike and ferocious mountaineers. If it was not to be dogged by a trail of pestilent hatreds, the antagonisms evoked by its advance must be composed in every Indian village or tribe before it progressed farther. Aside from these things, the topographical difficulties were immense. The Spaniards were armour-clad, as usual, and heavily burdened. Their way led through thick and overgrown and pathless jungles or across lofty and broken mountain-ranges, which could be surmounted only after the most exhausting labor. The distance as the crow flies, was short, less than fifty miles, but nearly a month elapsed before they approached the end of their journey. Balboa's enthusiasm and courage had surmounted every obstacle. He made friends with the chiefs {39} through whose territories he passed, if they were willing to be friends. If they chose to be enemies, he fought them, he conquered them and then made friends with them then. Such a singular mixture of courage, adroitness and statesmanship was he that everywhere he prevailed by one method or another. Finally, in the territory of a chief named Quarequa, he reached the foot of the mountain range from the summit of which his guides advised him that he could see the object of his expedition. There were but sixty-seven men capable of ascending that mountain. The toil and hardship of the journey had incapacitated the others. Next to Balboa, among the sixty-seven, was Francisco Pizarro. Early on the morning of the 25th of September, 1513, the little company began the ascent of the Sierra. It was still morning when they surmounted it and reached the top. Before them rose a little cone, or crest, which hid the view toward the south. "There," said the guides, "from the top of yon rock, you can see the ocean." Bidding his men halt where they were, Vasco Nuñez went forward alone and surmounted the little elevation. A magnificent prospect was embraced in his view. The tree-clad mountains sloped gently away from his feet, and on the far horizon glittered a line of silver which attested the accuracy of the claim of the Indians as to the existence of a great sea on the other side of what he knew now to be an isthmus. Balboa named the body of water that he could see far away, flashing in the sunlight of that bright morning, "the Sea of the South," or "the South Sea." [2] Drawing his sword, he took possession of it in the {40} name of Castile and Leon. Then he summoned his soldiers. Pizarro in the lead they were soon assembled at his side. In silent awe they gazed, as if they were looking upon a vision. Finally some one broke into the words of a chant, and on that peak in Darien those men sang the "Te Deum Laudamus." [Illustration: "He Took Possession of the Sea in the Name of Castile and Leon"] Somehow the dramatic quality of that supreme moment in the life of Balboa has impressed itself upon the minds of the successive generations that have read of it since that day. It stands as one of the great episodes of history. That little band of ragged, weather-beaten, hard-bitten soldiers, under the leadership of the most lovable and gallant of the Spaniards of his time, on that lonely mountain peak rising above the almost limitless sea of trackless verdure, gazing upon the great ocean whose waters extended before them for thousands and thousands of miles, attracts the attention and fires the imagination. Your truly great man may disguise his imaginative qualities from the unthinking public eye, but his greatness is in proportion to his imagination. Balboa, with the centuries behind him, shading his eye and staring at the water: ----Dipt into the future far as human eye could see, Saw the visions of the world, and all the wonder that would be. He saw Peru with its riches; he saw fabled Cathay; he saw the uttermost isles of the distant sea. His imagination took the wings of the morning and soared over worlds and countries that no one but he had ever dreamed of, all to be the fiefs of the King of Castile. It is interesting to note that it must have been to Balboa, of all men, that some adequate idea of the real size of the earth first came. {41} Well, they gazed their fill; then, with much toil, they cut down trees, dragged them to the top of the mountain and erected a huge cross which they stayed by piles of stones. Then they went down the mountain-side and sought the beach. It was no easy task to find it, either. It was not until some days had passed that one of the several parties broke through the jungle and stood upon the shore. When they were all assembled, the tide was at low ebb. A long space of muddy beach lay between them and the water. They sat down under the trees and waited until the tide was at flood, and then, on the 29th of September, with a banner displaying the Virgin and Child above the arms of Spain in one hand and with drawn sword in the other, Balboa marched solemnly into the rolling surf that broke about his waist and took formal possession of the ocean, and all the shores, wheresoever they might be, which were washed by its waters, for Ferdinand of Aragon, and his daughter Joanna of Castile, and their successors in Spain. Truly a prodigious claim, but one which for a time Spain came perilously near establishing and maintaining.[3] [Illustration: "He Threw the Sacred Volume to the Ground in a Violent Rage"] Before they left the shore they found some canoes and voyaged over to a little island in the bay, which they called San Miguel, since it was that saint's day, and where they were nearly all swept away by the rising tide. They went back to Antigua by another route, somewhat less difficult, fighting and making peace as before, and amassing treasure the while. Great was the joy of the colonists who had been left behind, when Balboa and his men rejoined them. {42} Those who had stayed behind shared equally with those who had gone. The King's royal fifth was scrupulously set aside and Balboa at once dispatched a ship, under a trusted adherent named Arbolancha, to acquaint the King with his marvelous discovery, and to bring back reënforcements and permission to venture upon the great sea in quest of the fabled golden land toward the south. III. "Furor Domini" Unfortunately for Vasco Nuñez, Arbolancha arrived just two months after Pedrarias had sailed. The discovery of the Pacific was the greatest single exploit since the voyage of Columbus. It was impossible for the King to proceed further against Balboa under such circumstances. Arbolancha was graciously received, therefore, and after his story had been heard a ship was sent back to Darien instructing Pedrarias to let Balboa alone, appointing him an adelantado, or governor of the islands he had discovered in the South Sea, and all such countries as he might discover beyond. All this, however took time, and Balboa was having a hard time with Pedrarias. In spite of all the skill of the envenomed Encisco, who had been appointed the public prosecutor in Pedrarias's administration, Balboa was at last acquitted of having been concerned in the death of Nicuesa. Pedrarias, furious at the verdict, made living a burden to poor Vasco Nuñez by civil suits which ate up all his property. It had not fared well with the expedition of Pedrarias, either, for in six weeks after they landed, over seven hundred of his unacclimated men were dead of fever and other diseases, incident to their lack of {43} precaution and the unhealthy climate of the Isthmus. They had been buried in their brocades, as has been pithily remarked, and forgotten. The condition of the survivors was also precarious. They were starving in their silks and satins. Pedrarias, however, did not lack courage. He sent the survivors hunting for treasures. Under different captains he dispatched them far and wide through the Isthmus to gather gold, pearls, and food. They turned its pleasant valleys and its noble hills into earthly hells. Murder, outrage and rapine flourished unchecked, even encouraged and rewarded. All the good work of Balboa in pacifying the natives and laying the foundation for a wise and kindly rule was undone in a few months. Such cruelties had never before been practised in any part of the New World settled by the Spaniards. I do not suppose the men under Pedrarias were any worse than others. Indeed, they were better than some of them, but they took their cue from their terrible commander. Fiske calls him "a two-legged tiger." That he was an old man seems to add to the horror which the story of his course inspires. The recklessness of an unthinking young man may be better understood than the cold, calculating fury and ferocity of threescore and ten. To his previous appellations, a third was added. Men called him, "_Furor Domini_"--"The Scourge of God." Not Attila himself, to whom the title was originally applied, was more ruthless and more terrible. Balboa remonstrated, but to no avail. He wrote letter after letter to the king, depicting the results of Pedrarias' actions, and some tidings of his successive communications, came trickling back to the {44} governor, who had been especially cautioned by the King to deal mercifully with the inhabitants and set them an example of Christian kindness and gentleness that they might be won to the religion of Jesus thereby! Pedrarias was furious against Balboa, and would have withheld the King's dispatches acknowledging the discovery of the South Sea by appointing him adelantado; but the Bishop of Darien, whose friendship Balboa had gained, protested and the dispatches were finally delivered. The good Bishop did more. He brought about a composition of the bitter quarrel between Balboa and Pedrarias. A marriage was arranged between the eldest daughter of Pedrarias and Balboa. Balboa still loved his Indian wife; it is evident that he never intended to marry the daughter of Pedrarias, and that he entered upon the engagement simply to quiet the old man and secure his countenance and assistance for the undertaking he projected to the mysterious golden land toward the south. There was a public betrothal which effected the reconciliation. And now Pedrarias could not do enough for Balboa, whom he called his "dear son." IV. The End of Balboa Balboa, therefore, proposed to Pedrarias that he should immediately set forth upon the South Sea voyage. Inasmuch as Pedrarias was to be supreme in the New World and as Balboa was only a provincial governor under him, the old reprobate at last consented. Balboa decided that four ships, brigantines, would be needed for his expedition. The only timber fit for shipping, of which the Spaniards were aware, {45} grew on the eastern side of the Isthmus. It would be necessary, therefore, to cut and work up the frames and timbers of the ships on the eastern side, then carry the material across the Isthmus, and there put it together. Vasco Nuñez reconnoitered the ground and decided to start his ship-building operations at a new settlement called Ada. The timber when cut and worked had to be carried sixteen miles away to the top of the mountain, then down the other slope, to a convenient spot on the river Valsa, where the keels were to be laid, the frames put together, the shipbuilding completed, and the boats launched on the river, which was navigable to the sea. This amazing undertaking was carried out as planned. There were two setbacks before the work was completed. In one case, after the frames had been made and carried with prodigious toil to the other side of the mountain, they were discovered to be full of worms and had to be thrown away. After they had been replaced, and while the men were building the brigantines, a flood washed every vestige of their labor into the river. But, as before, nothing could daunt Balboa. Finally, after labors and disappointments enough to crush the heart of an ordinary man, two of the brigantines were launched in the river. Most of the carrying had been done by Indians, over two thousand of whom died under the tremendous exactions of the work. Embarking upon the two brigantines, Balboa soon reached the Pacific, where he was presently joined by the two remaining boats as they were completed. He had now four fairly serviceable ships and three hundred of the best men of the New World under his command. He was well equipped and well provisioned {46} for the voyage and lacked only a little iron and a little pitch, which, of course, would have to be brought to him from Ada on the other side of the Isthmus. The lack of that little iron and that little pitch proved the undoing of Vasco Nuñez. If he had been able to obtain them or if he had sailed away without them, he might have been the conqueror of Peru; in which case that unhappy country would have been spared the hideous excesses and the frightful internal brawls and revolutions which afterward almost ruined it under the long rule of the ferocious Pizarros. Balboa would have done better from a military standpoint than his successors, and as a statesman as well as a soldier the results of his policy would have been felt for generations. History goes on to state that while he was waiting for the pitch and iron, word was brought to him that Pedrarias was to be superseded in his government. This would have been delightful tidings under any other circumstances, but now that a reconciliation had been patched up between him and the governor, he rightly felt that the arrival of a new governor might materially alter the existing state of affairs. Therefore, he determined to send a party of four adherents across the mountains to Ada to find out if the rumours were true. If Pedrarias was supplanted the messengers were to return immediately, and without further delay they would at once set sail. If Pedrarias was still there, well and good. There would be no occasion for such precipitate action and they could wait for the pitch and iron. He was discussing this matter with some friends on a rainy day in 1517--the month and the date not being determinable now. The sentry attached to the governor's quarters, driven to the shelter of the {47} house by the storm, overheard a part of this harmless conversation. There is nothing so dangerous as a half-truth; it is worse than a whole lie. The soldier who had aforetime felt the weight of Balboa's heavy hand for some dereliction of duty, catching sentences here and there, fancied he detected treachery to Pedrarias and thought he saw an opportunity of revenging himself, and of currying favor with the governor, by reporting it at the first convenient opportunity. Now, there lived at Ada at the time one Andres Garavito. This man was Balboa's bitter enemy. He had presumed to make dishonorable overtures to Balboa's Indian wife. The woman had indignantly repulsed his advances and had made them known to her husband. Balboa had sternly reproved Garavito and threatened him with death. Garavito had nourished his hatred, and had sought opportunity to injure his former captain. The men sent by Balboa to Ada to find out the state of affairs were very maladroit in their manoeuvres, and their peculiar actions awakened the suspicions of Pedrarias. The first one who entered the town was seized and cast into prison. The others thereupon came openly to Ada and declared their purposes. This seems to have quieted, temporarily, the suspicions of Pedrarias; but the implacable Garavito, taking opportunity, when the governor's mind was unsettled and hesitant, assured him that Balboa had not the slightest intention whatever of marrying Pedrarias's daughter; that he was devoted to his Indian wife, and intended to remain true to her; that it was his purpose to sail to the South Sea, establish a kingdom and make himself independent of Pedrarias. {48} The old animosity and anger of the governor awoke on the instant. There was no truth in the accusations except in so far as it regarded Vasco Nuñez's attachment to his Indian wife, and indeed Balboa had never given any public refusal to abide by the marital engagement which he had entered into; but there was just enough probability in Garavito's tale to carry conviction to the ferocious tyrant. He instantly determined upon Balboa's death. Detaining his envoys, he sent him a very courteous and affectionate letter, entreating him to come to Ada to receive some further instructions before he set forth on the South Sea. Among the many friends of Balboa was the notary Arguello who had embarked his fortune in the projected expedition. He prepared a warning to Vasco Nuñez, which unfortunately fell into the hands of Pedrarias and resulted in his being clapped into prison with the rest. Balboa unsuspiciously complied with the governor's request, and, attended by a small escort, immediately set forth for Ada. He was arrested on the way by a company of soldiers headed by Francisco Pizarro, who had nothing to do with the subsequent transactions, and simply acted under orders, as any other soldier would have done. Balboa was thrown into prison and heavily ironed; he was tried for treason against the King and Pedrarias. The testimony of the soldier who had listened in the rainstorm was brought forward, and, in spite of a noble defense, Balboa was declared guilty. Espinosa, who was his judge, was so dissatisfied with the verdict, however, that he personally besought Pedrarias to mitigate the sentence. The stern old tyrant refused to interfere, nor would he entertain {49} Balboa's appeal to Spain. "He has sinned," he said tersely; "death to him!" Four of his companions--three of them men who had been imprisoned at Ada, and the notary who had endeavored to warn him--were sentenced to death. It was evening before the preparations for the execution were completed. Balboa faced death as dauntlessly as he had faced life. Pedrarias was hated in Ada and Darien; Balboa was loved. If the veterans of Antigua had not been on the other side of the Isthmus, Balboa would have been rescued. As it was, the troops of Pedrarias awed the people of Ada and the judicial murder went forward. Balboa was as composed when he mounted the scaffold as he had been when he welcomed Pedrarias. A proclamation was made that he was a traitor, and with his last breath he denied this and asserted his innocence. When the axe fell that severed his head, the noblest Spaniard of the time, and one who ranks with those of any time, was judicially murdered. One after the other, the three companions, equally as dauntless, suffered the unjust penalty. The fourth execution had taken place in the swift twilight of the tropical latitude and the darkness was already closing down upon the town when the last man mounted the scaffold. This was the notary, Arguello, who had interfered to save Balboa. He seems to have been beloved by the inhabitants of the town, for they awakened from their horror, and some of consideration among them appealed personally to Pedrarias, who had watched the execution from a latticed window, to reprieve the last victim. "He shall die," said the governor sternly, "if I have to kill him with my own hand." So, to the future sorrow of America, and to the {50} great diminution of the glory and peace of Spain, and the world, passed to his death the gallant, the dauntless, the noble-hearted Balboa. Pedrarias lived until his eighty-ninth year, and died in his bed at Panama; which town had been first visited by one of his captains, Tello de Guzman, founded by Espinosa and upbuilt by himself. There are times when a belief in an old-fashioned Calvinistic hell of fire and brimstone is an extremely comforting doctrine, irrespective of theological bias. Else how should we dispose of Nero, Tiberius, Torquemada, and gentlemen of their stripe? Wherever such a company may be congregated, Pedro Arias de Avila is entitled to a high and exclusive place. [1] In the English chronicles he is often spoken of as Davila, which is near enough to Diabolo to make one wish that the latter sobriquet had been his own. It would have been much more apposite. [2] It was Magellan who gave it the inappropriate name of "Pacific." [3] To-day not one foot of territory bordering on that sea belongs to Spain. The American flag flies over the Philippines--shall I say forever? {53} III Peru and the Pizarros A Study in Retribution "They that take the sword shall perish by the sword." I. The Chief Scion of a Famous Family The reader will look in vain on the map of modern Spain for the ancient province of Estremadura, yet it is a spot which, in that it was the birthplace of the conquerors of Peru and Mexico--to say nothing of the discoverer of the Mississippi--contributed more to the glory of Spain than any other province in the Iberian peninsula. In 1883, the ancient territory was divided into the two present existing states of Badajoz and Caceres. In the latter of these lies the important mountain town of Trujillo. Living there in the last half of the fifteenth century was an obscure personage named Gonzalo Pizarro. He was a gentleman whose lineage was ancient, whose circumstances were narrow and whose morals were loose. By profession he was a soldier who had gained some experience in the wars under the "Great Captain," Gonsalvo de Cordova. History would take no note of this vagrom and obscure cavalier had it not been for his children. Four sons there were whose qualities and opportunities were such as to have enabled them to play a somewhat large part in the world's affairs {54} in their day. How many unconsidered other progeny, male or female, there may have been, God alone knows--possibly, nay probably, a goodly number. The eldest son was named Francisco. His mother, who was not married to his father--indeed not married to anybody at any time so far as I can find out--was a peasant woman named Francisca Gonzales. Francisco was born about the year 1471. His advent was not of sufficient importance to have been recorded, apparently, and the exact date of his terrestrial appearance is a matter of conjecture, with the guesses ranging between 1470 and 1478. A few years after the arrival of Francisco, there was born to Gonzales, and this time by his lawful wife, name unknown, a second son, Hernando. By the woman Gonzales, a score of years later, this promiscuous father had two more illegitimate sons, one of whom he named Gonzalo after himself, and the third he called Juan. Francisca Gonzales also bore a fourth son, of whom Gonzalo Pizarro was not the father, who was known as Martin de Alcántara. Thus Hernando, the second, was legitimate; Gonzalo and Juan were his illegitimate half-brethren, having the same father but a different mother; while Alcántara was a uterine brother to the three illegitimate Pizarros, having the same mother but a different father. There must have been marvelous qualities in the original Pizarro, for such a family is rarely to be met with in history. Such a mixed state of affairs was not so shocking in those days as it would be at present. I do not find that anybody cast any stones at the Pizarros on account of these irregularities in their birth. In fact, they had plenty of companions in their anomalous social relations, and it is a speaking commentary on the {55} times that nobody seemed to consider it as especially disgraceful or even very remarkable. Hernando, the second son, received a good education for the day. The others were thrown mainly on their own resources. Legend says that Francisco was suckled by a sow. The statement may be dismissed as a fable, but it is more than probable that the assertion that he was a swineherd is correct. It is certain that to the day of his death he could neither read nor write. He never even learned to sign his own name, yet he was a man of qualities who made a great figure in history in spite of these disabilities, leaving behind him an immortal if unenviable name. His career was humble and obscure to the vanishing point for forty years, of which practically nothing is known. It is alleged that he made a campaign in Italy with his father, but this is doubtful. A father who left him to tend the swine, who did nothing for his education, would not have bothered to take him a-soldiering. We leave the field of conjecture, however, and meet him in far-off America in 1510 as an officer under Alonzo de Ojeda--that Don Quixote among discoverers. His qualities had obtained for him some preferment, for when Ojeda left the miserable remnants of his colony at San Sebastian on the Gulf of Darien, and returned to Cuba for help, Pizarro was put in charge, with instructions to wait a certain time, and if succour did not reach him to leave. He waited the required time, indeed waited longer, until enough people died to enable the brigantine that had been left with them to carry the survivors, and then sailed away. He was a member of Encisco's expedition to Darien, in which he fell in with the youthful and {56} romantic Vasco Nuñez de Balboa. With Balboa he marched across the Isthmus, and was the second white man to look upon the Great South Sea in 1513. Subsequently, he was an officer under that American Nero, Pedro Arias de Avila, commonly called Pedrarias, the founder and Governor of Panama, the conqueror of Nicaragua and parts adjacent. Oviedo says that between his seventieth year, which was his age when he came to America, and his eighty-sixth year, when he died, the infamous Pedrarias caused more than two million Indians to be put to death, besides a numerous lot of his own countrymen. If we lop off two ciphers, the record is still bad enough. In 1515, Pizarro and Morales, by direction of Pedrarias, made an expedition to the south of the Gulf of San Miguel, into the territory of a chieftain named Biru, from whom they early got into the habit of calling the vague land believed to exist in the South Sea, the "Land of Biru," or Peru. It was on this expedition that the Spaniards, hotly pursued by the natives, stabbed their captives one by one and left them dying at intervals in the pathway to check pursuit. The practice was effective enough and the action throws an interesting light on the Spanish conquistador in general and Pizarro in particular. It fell to the lot of Pizarro also to arrest his old captain, Balboa, just as the latter was about to sail on a voyage of discovery to the fabulous gold country of Peru in 1517.[1] When Balboa and Pizarro had crossed the Isthmus six years before, the son of the Cacique Comagre, observing their avidity for gold, told them {57} that it abounded in a mysterious land far toward the south, and the young Indian made a little clay image of a llama further to describe the country. To conquer that El Dorado had been Balboa's cherished dream. Well would it have been for the country had not the jealousy of Pedrarias cut short Balboa's career by taking off his head, thus forcing the enterprise to be undertaken by men of coarser mould and meaner clay. It does not appear that Pizarro had any hand in the judicial murder of Balboa, and no reflection can be made on his conduct for the arrest, which was simply a matter of military duty, probably as distasteful to Pizarro as it was surprising to Balboa. II. The Terrible Persistence of Pizarro In 1519, Pizarro was living in Panama in rather straightened circumstances. His life had been a failure. A soldier of fortune, he possessed little but his sword. He was discontented, and although now nearly fifty years of age, he still had ambition. With remembrance of what he had heard the young Indian chief tell Balboa, constantly inciting him to a further grapple with hitherto coy and elusive fortune, he formed a partnership with another poverty-stricken but enterprising veteran named Diego de Almagro, whose parentage was as obscure as Pizarro's--indeed more so, for he is reputed to have been a foundling, although Oviedo describes him as the son of a Spanish laboring man. The two men supplemented each other. Pizarro, although astute and circumspect, was taciturn and chary of speech, though fluent enough on occasion; he was slow in making up his mind, too, but when it {58} was made up, resolute and tenacious of his purpose. Almagro was quick, impulsive, generous, frank in manner, "wonderfully skilled in gaining the hearts of men," but sadly deficient in other qualities of leadership. Both were experienced soldiers, as brave as lions and nearly as cruel as Pedrarias himself--being indeed worthy disciples of his school. The two penniless, middle-aged soldiers of fortune determined to undertake the conquest of that distant empire--a stupendous resolution. Being almost without means, they were forced to enlarge the company by taking on a third partner, a priest named Luque, who had, or could command, the necessary funds. With the sanction of Pedrarias, who demanded and received a share, largely gratuitous, in the expedition, they bought two of the four vessels which Balboa had caused to be taken to pieces, transported them across the Isthmus, then set them up again, and relaunched in the Pacific. Enlisting one hundred men under his banner, Pizarro set sail with the first vessel on the 14th of November, 1524. Almagro was to follow after with reënforcements and supplies in the second ship. One Andagoya had made a short excursion southward some time before, but they soon passed his latitude and were the first white men to cleave those southern seas. With only their hopes to guide them, without pilot, chart or experience, being, I suspect, indifferent sailors and wretched navigators, they crept along the forbidding shore in a crazy little ship, landing from time to time, seeing no evidence of the empire, being indeed unable to penetrate the jungles far enough to find out much of anything about the countries they passed. Finally, at one place, that they afterwards called "Starvation {59} Harbor," the men rebelled and demanded to be led back. They had seen and heard little of importance. There seemed to be nothing before them but death by starvation. Pizarro, however, who has been aptly described as "terribly persistent," refused to return. He sent the ship back to the Isles of Pearls for provisions, and grimly clung to the camp on the desolate shore. When twenty of his men were dead of starvation, the ship came back with supplies. In one of their excursions, during this wait at Starvation Harbor, they had stumbled upon and surprised an Indian village in which they found some clumsy gold ornaments, with further tales of the El Dorado to the southward. Instead of yielding to the request of his men that they immediately return in the ship, therefore, the indomitable Spaniard made sail southward. He landed at various places, getting everywhere little food and less gold, but everywhere gaining more and more confirmation that the foundation of his dreams was not "the baseless fabric of a vision." In one place they had a fierce battle with the Indians in which two of the Spaniards were killed and a large number wounded. Pizarro now determined to return to Panama with the little gold he had picked up and the large stories he had heard, there to recruit his band and to start out again. Almagro meanwhile had set forth with his ship with sixty or seventy additional adventurers. He easily followed the traces of Pizarro on the shore but the ships did not meet. Almagro went farther south than Pizarro. At one landing-place he had a furious battle with the natives in which he lost an eye. He turned back after reaching the mouth of the river San Juan in about the fourth {60} parallel of north latitude. He, too, had picked up some little treasure and a vast quantity of rumor to compensate for his lost optic and bitter experience. But the partners had little to show for their sufferings and expenditures but rumors and hopes. Pedrarias in disgust withdrew from the expedition for a price, which, with the money necessary to send out a second expedition, was furnished through Luque by the Licentiate Espinosa. About September, 1526, with two ships, the two captains set forth once more. This time they had with them a capable pilot named Ruiz. They avoided the coast and steered direct for the mouth of the San Juan River. Pizarro surprised a village here, carried off some of the natives, and a considerable amount of gold. This Almagro, as the best "persuader," took back to Panama in the hope that by exhibiting it he could gain much needed reënforcements for their expedition. The ships were very much undermanned. The experience of the first expedition, as related by the survivors, had been so horrible that it was with difficulty that they could get anybody to go with them on the second. Pizarro agreed to remain at the mouth of the river and examine the vicinity, while Ruiz with the second ship sailed southward to see what he could discover. Pizarro's men found no gold, although they explored the country with prodigious labor. Indians fell upon them, at one time killing fourteen who had stranded in a canoe on the bank of a river. Many other Spaniards perished, and all except Pizarro and a few of the stoutest hearts begged to return to Panama. Ruiz came back just as they had begun to despair. He had crossed the Equator, the first European to {61} cross it from the north, and had sailed half a degree south from the line.[2] He brought back some Indians, further specimens of gold and silver ornaments, exquisitely woven woollen garments, _et cetera_, which he had taken from a craft cruising near the shore, which were proofs positive of the existence of the long-desired country. Almagro now made his appearance with reënforcements and the keels were soon turned to the south. Coasting along the shore, they saw increasing evidence of cultivation in the valleys and uplands, backed by the huge snow-crowned range of the Andes. Large villages appeared here and there. Finally, they anchored opposite a considerable town laid out in well-defined streets, containing about two thousand houses, many of them built of stone. From their position close to the shore they thought that they could make out that the inhabitants wore ornaments of gold. Several canoes approached the ship, one of them crowded with warriors carrying a species of gold mask as an ensign. There appeared to be at least ten thousand warriors assembled on the shore but Pizarro landed with the few horses which he had brought along in the ship. A sharp engagement ensued, and the result might have been disastrous to the Spaniards had not one of them fallen from his horse during the fray. This diversion of what they considered a single animal into two, both living, alarmed the Indians so much, that they desisted from the attack and withdrew, the Spaniards taking advantage of the chance to return to the ships. What to do next was the problem. They had not {62} sufficient force or supplies with them to encounter the natives, or conquer or even explore the country. The expedition was about as meagrely equipped as it well could be and be an expedition at all. There were long discussions on the ships and a fierce quarrel between the two partners. Finally, it was composed outwardly, and it was decided that Pizarro should remain at the coast at some convenient point while Almagro, the traverser, went back for reënforcements. Pizarro elected to pitch his camp on the little Island of Gallo which they had discovered. Those who were appointed to remain with him rebelled at the decision which left them marooned on a desolate island with no adequate provisions for their needs. Pizarro, however, insisted and Almagro sailed with the other ship. Shortly afterward, Pizarro sent the remaining ship with the most obstinate of the mutineers to Panama. A letter revealing their sad plight, which was concealed in a ball of cotton sent as a present to the wife of the governor by one of the men on the island of Gallo, was smuggled ashore at Panama when Almagro's ship reached that point, despite his vigilant efforts to allow no such communications to pass. There was a new governor in Panama, Pedro de los Rios. Incensed by the loss of life and the hardships of the two expeditions, with the lack of definite and tangible results, and disregarding the remonstrances of Almagro, he dispatched two ships under one Pedro Tafur to bring them back. Life on the island of Gallo had been a hideous experience. Famine, disease and inclement weather had taken off many and had broken the spirit of the most of the rest of the band. Nothing could break that of Pizarro. When Tafur appeared, he refused to return. Drawing {63} an east-and-west line upon the sand with his sword, he made a brief soldierly address to his men. "Friends and comrades," he said, facing the south, "on that side of the line are toil, hunger, nakedness, the drenching storm, destruction and death. On this side," turning to the north, "are ease and pleasure. There lies Peru with its riches. Here, Panama with its poverty. Choose each man as best becomes a cavalier of Castile. For my part, I go to the south." Such was the effect of his electrifying words, that, as he stepped over the line, a number of his comrades, led by Ruiz, the pilot, and Pedro de Candia, a Greek gunner, followed him. The number varies from thirteen to sixteen according to different authorities. The weight of evidence inclines me to the smaller number.[3] Tafur raged and threatened, but Pizarro and his men persisted. They got themselves transferred to the Island of Gorgona where there were water and game and no inhabitants, and there they stayed while Tafur returned. {64} Less than a score of men marooned on a desert island in an unknown sea, opposite a desolate and forbidding coast, without a ship or any means of leaving the island, not knowing whether Almagro and Luque would be able to succor them; their position was indeed a desperate one. It shows, as nothing else could, the iron determination of the indomitable Spaniard. At that moment when Pizarro drew the line and stepped across it after that fiery address, he touched at the same time the nadir of his fortunes and the zenith of his fame. Surely it stands as one of the great dramatic incidents of history. The conquest of Peru turned upon that very instant, upon the determination of that moment; and upon the conquest of Peru depended more things in the future history of the earth than were dreamed of in the narrow philosophy of any Spaniard there present, or of any other man in existence in that long-past day. Peru has played a tremendously important part in the affairs of men. It was the treasure of Peru that armed the soldiers of Alva and laid the keels of the Armada. It was the treasure of Peru that relieved the Spanish people of the necessity of wresting a national revenue out of a soil by agriculture; which abrogated the auxiliary of agriculture, manufactures; which precluded the possibility of the corollary of the other two, commerce. It was the treasure of Peru that permitted the Spanish people to indulge that passion for religious bigotry which was stifling to liberty and throttling to development, and which put them hopelessly out of touch with the onward and progressive movement of humanity in one of the most vital periods and movements in history. It was the treasure of Peru that kindled the fires of the Inquisition, {65} in which the best blood of the nation lighted it to its downfall, and blazed the way for Manila and Santiago. Philip II, and his decadent and infamous successors depended upon the mines of Potosi and the mines of Potosi hung upon Pizarro and his line in the sand. The base-born, ignorant, cruel soldier wrecked in one moment a nation, made and unmade empires, and changed the whole course of the world. It was largely the Spanish zeal and intolerance that developed and made perfect the Reformation, for no great cause has ever won success without opposition, nay, persecution. "The blood of the martyr," says St. Augustine, "is the seed of the church." To return to the situation. Tafur presently reached Panama and reported. The governor and the people of that city looked upon Pizarro as a madman. Luque and Almagro were unwearying in their efforts and importunities, however, and finally they wrung a reluctant permission from De los Rios for Ruiz and one small ship and a few men to go to the rescue, with the proviso that a return must be made within six months. One can imagine the joy with which the desperate adventurers on the island saw the sails of that ship whitening the horizon. Once more they set sail to the south, arriving finally before a large and populous town called Tumbez. Here they saw undoubted signs of the existence of a great empire in a high state of civilization. The little party had some pleasant intercourse with the natives of Tumbez. They gathered a considerable amount of gold and silver, some of it exquisitely wrought by cunning artificers into the forms of beautiful and unknown plants and animals. There was no possible doubt as to {66} the truth of their golden dreams. The empire of Peru in all its magnificence lay before them. Too meagre a force to embrace the opportunity, there was nothing to do but to return to Panama. There it was agreed that Pizarro, with De Candia, should go over to Spain, taking with him Peruvians and treasures, tell what he had seen, and secure the royal countenance and support for their future undertaking, while Almagro and Luque remained at Panama preparing for the final expedition. Pizarro had no sooner set foot in Spain than he was arrested for debt on some ancient charge by Encisco, but he was too big a man, now, for such petty persecution and he was at once released and ordered to present himself at court. The rough, blunt soldier, with his terrible yet romantic tale with its infinite possibilities, was received with astonishing cordiality. He gained a royal commission to discover and conquer the empire of Peru for Spain for the distance of two hundred leagues south of the Santiago River, and received the title of Governor and Captain-General with large powers and revenue appertaining, which it was easy for the crown to bestow since Pizarro had to get them himself. Almagro, who justly felt himself slighted and his services inadequately valued, was made Governor of Tumbez; Luque was appointed Bishop for the same place and Protector of the Peruvians; Ruiz was named Grand Pilot of the Southern Ocean; De Candia, a General of Artillery; and every one of the thirteen who had crossed the line at Gallo was ennobled and made an Hidalgo of Spain. Then Pizarro went back to Trujillo. Certainly it must have been a happy moment for the neglected {67} bastard who had been a swineherd to return to his native village under such enviable conditions. He set sail for America early in 1530, with three ships. His four brothers came with him, the able Hernando being made second in command. Almagro and Luque were very much chagrined at the meagre reward that had fallen to them, and Almagro looked with deep antagonism upon the advent of the Pizarros, who, he realized instinctively, would undermine his influence with his partner. This hatred the new Pizarros repaid in kind. Some sort of peace, however, was patched up between them, and in January, 1531, with three small ships and one hundred and eighty-three men, including thirty-seven horses, Francisco set forth on his final voyage of conquest. Nearly seven years had elapsed since the first attempt was made. As yet they had little but empty titles, large powers, purely potential, however, and drained purses to show for their heroic endeavor, but the persistence of Pizarro was about to triumph at last. After a voyage of thirteen days, the squadron arrived at San Mateo, where the horses and soldiers were landed and ordered to march along the shore southward, while the ships were sent back for reënforcements which Almagro was gathering as usual. They returned with thirty more men and thirty-six additional horses. Arriving at the Gulf of Guayaquil, Pizarro established himself on the island of Puna, opposite Tumbez, which he cleared of its inhabitants by a series of desperate battles. There he was reënforced by a detachment of one hundred men with an additional number of horses under the command of young Hernando de Soto, another gallant Estremaduran, and quite the most attractive among this band of desperadoes, whose {68} design was to loot an empire and proclaim the Holy Gospel of Christ as the Spanish people had received the same. I have no doubt at all that the desire to propagate their religion was quite as real and as vividly present to them at all times as was their greed for gold. They had a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge; like the men of the Middle Ages who bore the cross on their hauberks, every Spaniard was a crusader. Aside from De Soto, there is no single character of all those, either Indian or Spaniard, who for fifteen years made Peru a bloody battle-ground, except the unfortunate young Inca Manco Capac, who is entitled to the least admiration or affection. In April, 1532, Pizarro embarked his men on the ships and landed, not without some fierce fighting, at Tumbez, on the coast of Peru. At last the expedition was on solid ground and nothing prevented its further advance. On the 18th of May, therefore, they took up the march for the interior, little dreaming of the ultimate fate that awaited them all. III. "A Communistic Despotism." The empire of Peru well deserved the title of Magnificent. The highest civilization attained on the Western Hemisphere had been reached on this South American coast. A form of government unique in history had been developed and put in operation by a capable and enlightened people. It was a "communistic despotism," a community with a despot and a ruling class superimposed upon its socialism. The sway of these despots was exceedingly mild and gentle, even if absolute. With wonderful ingenuity and a rare capacity for organization, upon the {69} ruins of an older civilization, they built the Inca Empire. The Incas were the ruling tribe, the Emperor being the Inca par excellence. Their empire was as thoroughly organized as it is possible for a community to be. Indeed, it was organized to death; the Inca was the empire, and one source of the empire's speedy downfall was due to the fact that the national spirit of the Peruvians had been so crushed by the theocratic despotism of their rulers that they viewed the change of masters with more or less indifference. When the Incas conquered a country and people they so arranged affairs as to incorporate the people as part of the empire. They called their domains grandiloquently "the four quarters of the earth." They did not govern this great territory by brute force as did the Aztecs--although they knew how to use the sword if necessary--but by methods dictated by prudent and profound policy, productive of peaceful success. The mild government of the Incas was at once patriarchal, theocratic and despotic. Whatever it was, from the Incas' point of view it was absolute and satisfactory. Prescott's account of the Inca civilization reads like a romance, yet it is practically borne out by all chroniclers who have discussed the subject, some of whom appear to desire to find the great American historian at fault. Large and populous cities existed, communication between which was had by great national roads traversing every part of the land. Vast herds of llamas were domesticated, from the hair of which the exquisitely woven cloth was made. Agriculture flourished. The country, upraised from the sea by the great range of mountains, afforded every variety of {70} climate from temperate to tropic, and the diversified products of the soil corresponded with the opportunities presented. And every foot of space was utilized for a population of millions of industrious workers, with an economy and resourcefulness only emulated by the Chinese in the working of their country. Even the mountain-sides were terraced by tiny farms. The Peruvians had made some progress in the arts, less in science. They lacked the art of writing, although they possessed a highly developed system of mnemonic aids in the form of curiously knotted and particolored strings called quipus. Their literature, if the contradiction be permitted, was handed down like their history, by oral tradition. Great as had been their achievements, however, they were in a curious state of arrested development. With the Peruvians, says Helps, "everything stopped short." They had not arrived at a finality anywhere, save perhaps in their mode of government. They could erect enormous time-defying buildings, but they knew of no way to roof them except by thatching them. Their roads were marvels of engineering construction, but they could not build bridges except frail ones made out of osier cables. No wheels ran along the smooth, well-paved, magnificent highways. They could refine gold and silver and make weapons of tempered copper, but they were entirely ignorant of the use of iron. The greatest human development has depended upon that last metal. The great nations are those which have had the steel-tempered sword blades in their hands. They could administer a colony in a way to excite the admiration of the world, and yet not write a line. There is little probability that they would have progressed much beyond the state at which {71} they had arrived, _for there was no individual liberty in the land_. That was the fatal defect in their system. It was the lack which put that touch of finality to their otherwise marvelously developed condition and which limited inexorably their civilization. The unchangeable conditions were stifling to ambition and paralyzing to achievement. The two things the country lacked were the two vital things to human progress and human success--letters and liberty. The religious development of the Peruvians was very high. They worshipped an unknown Supreme Being and they worshipped him, it is conclusively demonstrated, without human sacrifice. Objectively they paid their chief adoration to the sun, moon and stars, and to the Inca as the child or earthly representative of the sun. Sun-worship is the noblest and highest of all the purely natural religions. When to this was superadded an instinctive feeling for a great First Cause, of which the solar magnificence was but a manifestation, the religion of the Peruvians is entitled to great respect. Their history ran back into the mists of the past. At the time of the arrival of Pizarro, a curious condition, anomalous in their records, had arisen. Huayna Capac, one of the greatest monarchs of the Inca line, had extended his dominion by force of arms over the rich province of Quito, far to the north. He had taken as one of his concubines the daughter of the conquered monarch of Quito and by her had a son named Atahualpa.[4] The son of the monarch by his sister, his only legal {72} wife, or Coya--the irrevocable Peruvian method of providing for the Inca succession--was named Huascar. Huayna on his deathbed, after a glorious reign of forty years, made the fatal mistake of dividing his dominion between Huascar, to whom was given ancient Peru, and Atahualpa, who took Quito to the north. World-history, of which Huayna could have known nothing, has shown conclusively enough that such a policy has always brought about civil war, and this startling reversal of Peruvian custom by a doting monarch on his deathbed produced the usual results. The armies of Atahualpa, led by two famous soldiers called Quiz-Quiz and Chalcuchima, had met and defeated the troops of Huascar in a series of bloody battles. They had taken that unhappy monarch prisoner and, by a series of terrible massacres instigated by Atahualpa, had striven with large success to cut off the family of the unfortunate Inca root and branches. The land had been devastated by the fierceness of the internecine conflict, towns had been carried by storm, the inhabitants put to the sword; the ordinary course of events had been interrupted and agriculture had languished; the empire lay gasping under the paw of the Peruvian usurper when Pizarro landed upon the shore. The strife that was to ensue was between two base-born, cruel-hearted soldiers of fortune, one at the head of a little body of white men, but with all the prestige of their color and development in warfare, and weapons, the other, the now undisputed monarch of a vast if prostrate and exhausted empire, at the head of great armies flushed with victory and eager for new conquests. What would the result of the struggle be? {73} IV. The Treacherous and Bloody Massacre of Caxamarca. Having marched some thirty miles south of Tumbezin the pleasant spring weather, Pizarro, finding what he conceived to be a favorable location for a permanent colony, encamped his army, laid out and began to build a city, which he called San Miguel. The Spaniards were great builders and the city was planned and fortified on an extensive scale and the more important buildings erected, so that it was not until September that Pizarro considered his base of supplies had been made secure. Meanwhile he had been assiduously seeking information on every hand concerning the internal dissensions in the Peruvian empire, so that he could undertake his conquest intelligently. On the 24th of September, 1532, the valiant little army was mustered and, after deducting a small garrison for San Miguel, those appointed for the expedition were found to include sixty-seven horsemen, three arquebusiers, twenty crossbowmen and eighty-seven footmen, in all one hundred and seventy-seven.[5] They were accompanied by two pieces of small artillery called falconets, each having a bore of two inches and carrying a shot weighing about a pound and a half, being, with the three arquebusiers, General De Candia's command. With this insignificant force, augmented, I suppose, by some Indian captives acting as pack-mules, Pizarro started out to conquer an empire conservatively estimated to contain from ten to twelve millions of people, supporting an army of disciplined {74} soldiers whose numbers ran into the hundreds of thousands. The Spanish forces were well equipped and in good condition, but as they left the sea-shore and advanced, without molestation, to be sure, through the populous country, some idea of the magnitude of their self-appointed task permeated the minds of the common soldiery, and evidences of hesitation, reluctance and dissension speedily appeared. The unwillingness of the men grew until Pizarro was forced to take notice of it. Halting on the fifth day in a pleasant valley, he met the emergency in his usual characteristic fashion. Parading the men, he addressed to them another of those fiery speeches for which he was famous, and the quality of which, from so illiterate a man, is amazingly high. He painted anew the dangers before them, and then adroitly lightened the shadows of his picture by pointing to the rewards. He appealed to all that was best in humanity by saying that he wanted none but the bravest to go forward.[6] He closed his address by offering to allow all who wished to do so to return to San Miguel, whose feeble garrison, he said, he should be glad to have reënforced. And, with a subtler stroke of policy, he promised that those who went back should share in the rewards gained by their more constant brethren. But four infantrymen and five horsemen shamefacedly availed themselves of this permission. The rest enthusiastically clamored to be led forward. Both mutiny and timidity were silenced forever in that band. {75} On a similar occasion, Cortes had burnt his ships. It is hard to decide which was the better expedient. Certainly Cortes was incomparably a much abler man than Pizarro, but somehow Pizarro managed to rise to the successive emergencies which confronted him, just the same. Greatly refreshed in spirits, the army, purged of the malcontents, proceeded cautiously on its way south. They were much elated from time to time at receiving envoys from Atahualpa, who coupled a superstitious reverence for the invaders as Children of the Sun with demands as to their purposes, and a request that they halt and wait the pleasure of the Inca. Pizarro dissembled his intentions and received them with fair words, but refusing to halt, kept steadily on, announcing his intention of visiting Atahualpa wherever he might be found. Pursuing their journey, the Spaniards came early in November to the foot of the mountains. To the right of them, that is toward the south, extended a great well-paved road which led to the imperial capital of Cuzco. In front of them, a narrow path rose over the mountains. One was easy, the other hard. In spite of suggestions from his soldiery, Pizarro chose the hard way. He had announced his intention of visiting the Inca, and visit him he would although the way to the city of Cuzco was open and the place might easily be taken possession of. The seat of danger and the source of power were alike with the Inca, and not in Cuzco. With sixty foot and forty horse, this old man, now past sixty years, led the way over the mountains, while his brother brought up the rear with the remainder. The passage was a terrible one, but the indomitable {76} band, catching some of the spirit of their leader, surmounted all the obstacles, and a few days after from the summits of a mighty range, surveyed the fertile, beautiful plains spread out before them on the farther side of the mountain. Close at hand was the white-walled city, Caxamarca or Cajamarca, embowered in verdure in a fruitful valley. The place was an important position, well fortified and containing, under ordinary circumstances, a population of ten thousand. The reader should remember the name, for it was the scene of one of the most remarkable and determinative events in history. The conquest, in fact, was settled there. Beyond the city, on the slopes of the hills, and divided from it by a river, over which a causeway led, stood the white tents of the fifty thousand soldiers of Atahualpa's army. The number of them filled the Spaniards with amazement, and in some cases with apprehension. There was no going back then, however; there was nothing to do but advance. At the hour when the bells of Holy Church in their home land were ringing vespers, in a cold driving rain mingled with sleet, the little cortège entered the city, which they found as the French found Moscow, deserted of its inhabitants. With the ready instinct of a soldier, Pizarro led his force to the public square, or Plaza, which was in the shape of a rude triangle surrounded on two sides by well-built, two-story houses of stone. On the other side, or base, rose a huge fortress with a tower overlooking the city on one hand and the Inca's camp on the other. Without hesitation, the weary Spaniards made themselves at home in the vacant buildings around the square; guards were posted in order that the strictest {77} watch might be kept, and other preparations made for defence. Here they prepared for the repose of the night. Meanwhile Hernando de Soto with twenty horse was sent as an ambassador to Atahualpa's camp. He had been gone but a short time when Pizarro, at the suggestion of his brother Hernando, who made the point that twenty horsemen were not sufficient for defense and too many to lose, despatched the latter with twenty more cavalrymen to reënforce the first party. The two cavaliers and their escort found the Inca in the midst of his camp. The monarch was seated and surrounded by a brilliant assemblage of nobles in magnificent vestments. He was guarded by a great army of soldiers armed with war-clubs, swords and spears of tempered copper, and bows and slings. He received the deputation with the impassivity of a stone image, vouchsafing no answer to their respectful address until it had been several times repeated. At last he declared he would visit the strangers on the morrow, and directed them to occupy the buildings in the public square, and none other until he came to make arrangements. His demeanor was cold and forbidding to the last degree. The results of the embassy were highly unsatisfactory. One incident connected with the interview is worthy of mention. De Soto, who was a most accomplished cavalier, a perfect centaur in fact, noticing the amazed and somewhat alarmed glances of the Inca's men at the movements of his restless horse, suddenly determined to exhibit his skill at the manège. Striking spurs to his charger, he caused him to curvet and prance in the open before the Inca, showing at the same time {78} his own horsemanship and the fiery impetuosity of the high-spirited animal. He concluded this performance--shall I say circus?--by dashing at full speed toward the Inca, reining in his steed with the utmost dexterity a few feet from the royal person. What the Inca thought of this has not been recorded. I imagine he must have been terribly affronted. Some of his nobles and soldiers, less able to preserve their iron composure than their master, shrank back from the onrushing avalanche of steed and steel presented by De Soto and his horse. The Spaniards found their dead bodies the next day. It did not do to show cowardice in the presence of the Inca! They had been summarily executed by Atahualpa's order. Yet, I cannot think the Inca a man of surpassing bravery after all. Certainly he was not a man of sufficient ability worthily to hold the scepter of so great an empire. He made a frightful mistake in not stopping the invaders where it would have been easy for him to do so, in the narrow defiles of the mountains, and he did not even yet seem to have decided in his own mind how he should treat them. To be sure, according to some accounts, he looked upon them as belonging to the immortal gods, but there have been men brave enough in the defence of land and liberty to defy even the immortal gods! A vast deal of sympathy, indeed, has been wasted upon Atahualpa. Without doubt the Spaniards treated him abominably, and for that treatment the wretched monarch has claims to our consideration, but for his personal qualities or his past record, none. Helps explains his name as derived from two words meaning, "sweet valor!" Markham affirms that the words mean "A chance, or lucky, game-cock!" Neither appellation, in view of {79} Atahualpa's history can be considered as especially apt or happy. Much dissatisfied and thoroughly perturbed, De Soto and Hernando Pizarro returned to the city. Long and serious were the deliberations of the leaders that night. At length they arrived at a momentous decision, one for which they have been severely and justly censured, but which under the circumstances was the only possible decision which insured their safety. They had no business in that country. They had come there with the deliberate intention of looting it without regard to the rights of the inhabitants, and in that purpose lay the seeds of all their subsequent crimes, treachery, murder, outrage and all other abominations whatsoever. No surprise need be felt therefore, that they determined upon the seizure of the person of the Inca. The example of Cortes with Montezuma was before them. I have no doubt that his amazing exploits in Mexico had been talked over frequently by every camp-fire in the New and the Old World, and many bold spirits had longed for an opportunity to emulate his doings. The Spaniards in Peru had already learned enough of the local conditions to realize that with the person of the Inca they could control the government. To seize him was black treachery, of course; but being there, it was the only thing to do, from their point of view. The night was an anxious one and the morning found them engaged in preparations. De Candia was posted with two small falconets and three arquebusiers on the roof of the fortress. His guns pointed toward the Inca's camp, though he had instructions to turn them on the square as soon as the Peruvians arrived. De Soto and Hernando Pizarro divided the horse {80} between them and occupied the houses on the other side of the square with them. The infantry were distributed at various points of vantage. Pizarro reserved twenty of the trustiest blades for his own escort. The arms of the men were carefully looked to, and nothing that the skill or experience of the captains could suggest was left undone to promote the success of their hazardous and bold undertaking. Mass was said with great solemnity by the priest of the expedition, Fra Vincente de Valverde, an iron-souled, fierce-hearted Dominican, meet ecclesiastic for such a band. Refreshments were then provided liberally for the soldiers--it is not so stated, but it may be presumed that some of them were in liquid shape--and then the whole party settled down to await developments. Nothing seemed to be going on in the Peruvian camp during the morning. The Inca moved toward the city in the afternoon, but stopped just outside the walls, to the great annoyance of the Spaniards, who had found the long wait a trying experience indeed. Late in the afternoon, Pizarro received a message that Atahualpa had changed his mind and would not visit him until the following day. This did not suit his plans at all. He instantly returned an answer to the Inca, begging him not to defer his visit, saying that he had provided everything for his entertainment--which was quite true although in a very different sense from that conveyed by the words of his messenger--and requesting Atahualpa to arrange to sup with him without fail that night. Pizarro had previously assured the Inca that he would receive him as a "friend and brother"! What reasons actuated the Inca we have no means of ascertaining. Suffice it to say that he changed his mind and came. {81} A short time after sunset, therefore, the Inca, attended by a numerous retinue, entered the square. Atahualpa was borne aloft on a throne made of massive gold, supported on the shoulders of his attendants. He was dressed with barbaric magnificence in robes of exquisite texture, heavily embroidered and ornamented with gold and silver. Around his neck blazed a necklace of emeralds of wonderful size and great brilliancy. His forehead was hidden by a thick vivid scarlet fringe depending from a diadem almost to the eyebrows. This tassel (or _borla_, as the Spaniards called it; _llauta_, according to the Peruvians) was the supreme mark of the imperial dignity in that no one but the Inca could wear it. The Inca was surrounded by a gorgeously attired body of retainers who were preceded by hundreds of menials who cleared the streets of every obstacle which might impede the progress of their master, the Son of the Sun. The processions divided at the square, and the monarch was carried forward in the open. Not a Spaniard save the watchful sentries pacing the fort above, was to be seen. "Where," asked Atahualpa, looking about in surprise, "are the strangers?" At this moment, at the request of Pizarro, Father Valverde came forward in his canonicals, crucifix in one hand, breviary or Bible in the other.[7] He was attended by one of the Peruvians whom Pizarro had taken back to Spain, who was to act as interpreter. This precocious little rascal, named Felippo, was the best interpreter that could be found, which is saying little, for his Spanish was bad and mainly picked up in the camps from the rude soldiery, and his Peruvian {82} was only an uncouth dialect of the highly inflected and most flexible and expressive Quichua, the language of the educated, indeed of the most of the people. Approaching the litter of the Inca, Valverde delivered an extraordinary address. He briefly explained the doctrines of the Christian religion to the astonished Peruvian, requiring him to conform to this religion and acknowledge the spiritual supremacy of the Pope, and at the same time to submit to the sway of his Imperial Majesty Charles V. It was a pretty heavy demand to spring upon a great monarch in the midst of his people, and it was not to be wondered at that Atahualpa rejected these requests with contempt. The Inca answered the friar not without shrewdness. He had gathered the idea from Felippo's vile mistranslation that the Christians worshipped four Gods, i. e. the Trinity and the Pope. He declared that he himself worshipped one, and there was its sign and symbol--pointing to the declining sun; that he believed one God was better than four. He rejected indignantly the idea that he, "The Lord of the Four Quarters of the Earth," owed allegiance to any Charles V. or any other earthly monarch, of whom he had never heard and who had assuredly never heard of him either. Valverde had referred to the book in his hand as he had spoken and Atahualpa now asked to see it. The volume was a clasped one and he found it difficult to open. Valverde, probably thinking he could show him to unclasp the volume, stepped nearer to him. The Inca repulsed him with disdain. Wrenching open the covers he glanced rapidly at the book, and perhaps suddenly realizing the full sense of the insult which had been offered to him in the demands {83} of the dogmatic and domineering Dominican, he threw the sacred volume to the ground in a violent rage. "Tell your companions," he said, "that they shall give me an account of their doings in my land. I will not go hence until they have made me full satisfaction for all the wrongs they have committed!" Then he turned and spoke to his people--the last word he was ever to address them as a free monarch from his throne. There was a loud murmur from the crowd. Thereupon, according to some accounts, Valverde picked up the book through which Atahualpa had offered such a deadly insult to his religion and rushed back to Pizarro, exclaiming, "Do you not see that while we stand here wasting our breath in talking with this dog, full of pride as he is, the fields are filling with Indians? Set on at once! I absolve you for whatever you do!" I would fain do no man an injustice. Therefore, I also set down what other authorities say, namely, that Valverde simply told Pizarro what had occurred. There is no dispute, however, as to what happened immediately. Pizarro stepped out from the doorway, and drawing a white scarf from his shoulders, threw it into the air. Instantly a shot roared from the fort above his head. The famous war-cry of the Spaniards, "St. Jago, and at them!" rang over every quarter of the square into which, with bared swords, couched lances and drawn bows, poured the mail-clad soldiery horse and foot. They burst upon the astonished ranks of the unarmed Indians with the suddenness and swiftness of a tornado. From the roof above, the gunners discharged their bullets into the swaying, seething mass. With {84} their wands of office, with their naked hands, with whatever they could seize, the Peruvians defended themselves. They rallied around the person of the Inca, freely offering their breasts to the Spanish blades with the vain attempt to protect their monarch. Atahualpa sat upon his reeling throne gazing upon the bloody scene in a daze of surprise. Pizarro and the twenty chosen cut their way to the litter and, striking down the helpless bearers thereof, precipitated the Inca to the ground. The Spaniards were mad with carnage now, and were striking indiscriminately at any Indian. Then could be heard Pizarro's stern voice ringing above the melée, "Let no man who values his life strike at the Inca!" Such was the fierceness of his soldiery, however, that in his frenzied attempt to protect the monarch, Pizarro was wounded in one of his hands by his own men. As the Inca fell, he had been caught by Pizarro and supported, although a soldier named Estete snatched the imperial _llauta_ from his head as he fell. With the capture of the Inca, what little futile resistance the unarmed host had been able to make ceased. The Indians, relentlessly pursued by their bloody conquerors, fled in every direction, and, to anticipate events, the army deprived of its monarch and its generals, dispersed the next day without striking a blow. Indeed the army was helpless for offence while the Spaniards held the Inca as a hostage. The estimates of the numbers slain in one half-hour's fighting in the square of Caxamarca vary from two to ten thousand. Whatever the number, it was great and horrible enough. An unparalleled act of treachery had been consummated, and Peru, in the space of thirty minutes had been conquered and Pizarro held {85} it in the hollow of his hand. Not a Spaniard had been wounded except Pizarro himself, and his wound had been received from his own men while he tried to protect Atahualpa from the Spaniards' fury. V. The Ransom and Murder of the Inca Pizarro treated the Inca well enough, although he held him in rigorous captivity. Nobody else in Peru seemed to know what to do under the circumstances, and the Spaniards soon lost all apprehension of resistance. Quiz-Quiz and Chalcuchima still held Huascar a captive at Xuaca, a fortress between Caxamarca and Cuzco. Atahualpa, realizing how important such a man would be to the Spaniards, sent orders that he be put to death and the unfortunate deposed Inca was therefore executed by the two generals. Although he was captive, Atahualpa's orders were as implicitly obeyed as if he had been free. He was still the Inca, if only by the right of sword, and the forces of his generals were sufficiently great to render it impossible for the son of Huascar, named Manco Capac, who had escaped the massacre of his kinfolk and who was the legitimate heir to the throne, to claim the crown. Pizarro, with a fine show of rectitude, affected to be horrified by this evidence of brutal cruelty, and although Atahualpa claimed no connection with the assassination of Huascar, it was impossible to acquit him of it. Greatly desiring his freedom, Atahualpa, who had observed the Spanish greed for gold, made an extraordinary proposition to Pizarro. They were together in a room twenty-two feet long by seventeen feet broad. Standing on his tiptoes and reaching as high as he could, probably about eight feet, for he was a tall man, {86} Atahualpa offered to fill the room with gold to the height he had touched, if, when he had completed his undertaking, Pizarro would release him. Pizarro jumped at the offer, and well he might for no such proposition had ever before been offered in the history of the world. The cubic contents enclosed by the figures mentioned are three thousand three hundred and sixty-six feet, or in round numbers, one hundred and twenty-five cubic yards. Such a treasure was even beyond the most delirious dreams of the conquerors.[8] As soon as these astonishing terms had been formally accepted in writing by Pizarro, the Inca sent orders to all parts of his dominion for the people to bring in their treasures. He also directed the royal palaces and temples to be stripped, and his orders were obeyed. He had stipulated that he be allowed two months in which to raise the ransom and day after day a stream of Indians poured into the city loaded with treasure which dazzled the eyes of the astonished and delighted conquerors. Atahualpa had stipulated also that the gold was not to be smelted--that is, he would not be required to fill the spaces solidly with ingots, but that it should be put into the room just as it was brought in and allowed to take up as much space as was required, even though it might be in the shape of a manufactured article. [Illustration: "They Burst Upon the Ranks of the Unarmed Indians."] {87} Some of the gold was in the shape of ingenious plants and animals, one especially beautiful object being the corn plant with blades of gold and tassels of silver. Pizarro, to his credit, ordered that some of these specimens of exquisite workmanship should be preserved intact. Much of the treasure was in the shape of plates or tiles, from the interior of the temples or palaces which did not take up much space. The great temple of the Sun at Cuzco had a heavy outside cornice, or moulding, of pure gold. It was stripped of this dazzling ornament to satisfy the rapacity of the conquerors. There was also a vast quantity of silver which was stored in other chambers. Silver hardly counted in view of the deluge of the more precious metal. [Illustration: "The Three Pizarros . . . Sallied Out to Meet Them"] Atahualpa did not quite succeed in filling the space, but he came so near it that Pizarro, in a formal agreement executed before a notary, declared that the Inca had paid his ransom and that he was released from any further obligation concerning it. That is the only release, however, which the unfortunate Inca ever got. Obviously, it was dangerous to turn loose such a man. Therefore, in spite of his legal quittance, he still was held in captivity. The Spaniards concluded finally that the only safe course was to get rid of him. The ransom amounted in our money to over seventeen million dollars, according to Prescott; to nearly eighteen million dollars, according to Markham. Pizarro's personal share was seven hundred thousand dollars; Hernando received three hundred and fifty thousand dollars; De Soto two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Each horse soldier received nearly one hundred thousand; the principal foot soldiers, fifty thousand, and the others smaller sums in accordance {88} with their rank and service. The precious metals were so plentiful that for the time being they lost their value, for men cheerfully paid thousands of dollars for a horse. Indeed so bulky and unwieldly was the treasure with which the soldiers were loaded, that it is solemnly averred that creditors avoided their debtors fearing lest the latter should pay them what they owed in further heaps of the bulky treasure; and it is certainly a fact that even the animals shared in the opulence of the conquest, for the horses were shod with silver. Silver was cheaper and easier to get than iron. While they were revelling in the treasure, dividing the spoils and deliberating what was to be done with Atahualpa, Almagro arrived with his reënforcements. Naturally he and his men demanded a share of the booty. Great was their disgust and furious their anger when Pizarro and the other conquerors refused to give it up. Finally, the quarrels that ensued were composed by presenting Almagro and his followers certain sums, large in themselves though trifling in comparison with what Pizarro's men had received. Almagro's men were also given to understand that they could move on to the southwest at some convenient season and conquer another empire and take all they could for themselves. Unfortunately for them, there were no more empires like Peru on this or any other side of the world left them to conquer. Hernando Pizarro was then dispatched to Spain to deliver the royal fifth to Charles, to give an account of the fortunes of the conquerors and to secure what further rewards and privileges he could for them. Atahualpa saw him leave with the greatest regret. He was a man of fierce, stern, implacable disposition, {89} not a lovely character, according to any of the chroniclers, but he seems to have been fairer, and in his own way he had treated the unfortunate monarch better, than any of the others, unless it was De Soto. Possibly Hernando might have restrained his brother from the last infamy he was about to perpetrate if he had been there. Certainly De Soto would have sought to dissuade him. Pizarro realized this and got rid of De Soto by sending him away to investigate as to the truth of rumors that Atahualpa was conspiring to obtain his freedom. I have no doubt that he was so conspiring. I hope so, for if he was, it was about the only manly thing that he did. While De Soto was away, at the instigation of the soldiers, Pizarro with seeming reluctance, allowed Atahualpa to be brought to trial. I have no doubt that Pizarro instigated the soldiers himself. He was adroit enough to do it, and he would have no scruples whatever to deter him. The Inca was tried on twelve charges, among which were included accusations that he had usurped the crown, and given its prerogatives to his friends (instead of to the Spaniards!). He was charged with being an idolator, an adulterer and a polygamist, and finally it was urged that he had endeavored to incite an insurrection against the Spaniards. Such accusations came with a peculiarly bad grace from the conquerors. The whole thing, charges and all, would have been a farce had it not been for the certain grim and terrible outcome. Felippo, the Infamous, was the only interpreter. He had made love to one of the Inca's wives, whom the Spaniards had allowed to share his captivity. Atahualpa, furiously affronted, desired to have him {90} put to death, but Felippo was too important to the Spaniards, and he was spared. How Atahualpa's defense suffered from Felippo's interpretations under such circumstances may easily be imagined. In spite of the courageous opposition of a few of the self-appointed judges, the Inca was convicted and sentenced to death, Father Valverde concurring, in writing, with the sentence. When the verdict of the court was communicated to Atahualpa, he did not receive it with any remarkable degree of fortitude. He is a pitiful rather than a heroic figure. "What have I done," he cried, weeping, "what have my children done, that I should meet with such a fate?" Turning to Pizarro, he added, "And from your hands, too, who have met with friendship and kindness from my people, to whom I have given my treasure, who have received nothing but benefit from my hands!" He besought the conqueror to spare his life, promising anything, even to double the enormous ransom he had already paid, and offering to guarantee in any appointed way the safety of every Spaniard in the army. Pedro Pizarro, a cousin of the conqueror, who has left an account of the interview, says that Pizarro was greatly affected by the touching appeal of the unfortunate monarch, and that he wept in turn also. However that may be, he refused to interfere. A man may weep and weep, to paraphrase Shakespeare, "and be a villain!" There was no help for it; Atahualpa had to die. It was on the 29th of August, 1533. The trial and deliberations had occupied the whole day. It was two hours after sunset before they were ready to execute him in the great square of Caxamarca. {91} The Spanish soldiers, fully armed, arranged themselves about a huge stake which had been planted in the square. Back of them were groups of terrified, awe-struck Peruvians, helplessly weeping and lamenting the fate of their monarch which they were powerless to prevent. Flickering torches held by the troops cast an uncertain light over the tragic scene. Atahualpa was led forth in fetters and chained to the stake. He showed little of the firmness and fortitude of a proud monarch or a brave man. How feebly he appears when contrasted with the great Aztec Guatemotzin, calmly enduring the tortures of the red-hot gridiron and resolutely refusing to gratify either his captors' lust for treasure or desire for revenge by vouchsafing them a single fact or a single moan. By Inca's side was Valverde, who had been assiduous in his endeavors to make him a Christian. The friar was ready to offer such grim consolation as he could to the wretched Peruvian in whose death sentence he had concurred. Atahualpa had hitherto turned a deaf ear to all his importunities, but at the last moment Valverde told him that if he would consent to receive baptism, he should be strangled instead of burnt to death. Atahualpa asked Pizarro if this was true, and being assured that it was, he abjured his religion to avoid the agonies of fire, and was thereupon baptised under the name of Juan de Atahualpa. The name John was given to him because this baptism _in extremis_ took place on St. John the Baptist's day. Rarely, if ever, has there been a more ghastly profanation of the Holy Sacrament of Regeneration! Before he was garroted, Atahualpa begged that his remains might be preserved at Quito with those of his mother's people. Then he turned to Pizarro and {92} made a final request of that iron-hearted man, that he would look after and care for the Inca's little children. While he was strangled and his body was being burnt, the terrible soldiery could be heard muttering the magnificent words of the Apostolic Creed for the redemption of the soul of the monarch. Incidentally it may be noted that a little later the Spaniards burnt old Chalcuchima, of whom they had got possession by treacherous promises, at the stake. He did not embrace Christianity at the last moment, but died as he had lived, a soldier and a Peruvian. The character of Atahualpa may be learned from his career. He was a cruel, ruthless usurper, neither magnanimous in victory nor resolute in defeat. As I have said, it is impossible to admire him, but no one can think of his fate and the treacheries of which he was a victim without being touched by his miseries. If he sowed the wind he reaped the whirlwind, and bad as he was, his conquerors were worse. Pizarro placed the diadem on Toparca, a youthful brother of the late Inca. When he was alone with his attendants, the boy tore the _llauta_ from his forehead, and trampled it under his foot, as no longer the badge of anything but infamy and shame, and in two short months he pined and died from the consciousness of his disgrace. Whereupon another Peruvian, Manco Capac, the legitimate heir of Huascar, appeared before Pizarro, made good his claim, and on the entry of the conquerors into Cuzco, was crowned Inca with all the ancient ceremonies. He soon realized that he was but a puppet in Pizarro's hands, however, and by and by he, too, made a bold stroke for freedom. The conquest of Peru was complete. Charles V., dazzled by the report of Hernando Pizarro, and the {93} substantial treasures placed before him, created Pizarro a Marquis of the country, confirmed him in the government of the country for two hundred and seventy leagues south of the Santiago River and gave Almagro authority to conquer everything beyond that limit. Almagro was very much dissatisfied with his share, but concluded, before he made any violent objections, to go to the south and find an El Dorado for himself. Meanwhile Pizarro, who was almost as much of a builder as Rameses the Great, laid out the city of Lima and the Spaniards flocked into Peru from Spain in thousands. The natives were enslaved and the country divided into great estates, and Almagro and his discontented started for Chili. Hernando Pizarro, who was appointed governor of Cuzco, held young Manco in close confinement, and everything outwardly was as fine and lovely as a summer day. There was growing, however, a tremendous uprising in which hitherto somnolent Fate was about to lay her belated hands upon nearly all the actors of the great drama which had heretofore been so successfully played. VI. The Inca and the Peruvians Strike Vainly for Freedom The city of Cuzco was, without doubt, the most superb capital on the American continent. Indeed, in many respects, it would have compared favorably with, let us say, Paris in the sixteenth century, with its narrow, crooked, unpaved filthy streets, its indifferent protections, and its utterly inadequate water and sewer system. The streets, which were broad and level, crossed each other at regular intervals at right angles. They were smoothly paved with large, carefully joined {94} flagstones. The houses in the city were mainly built of stone. The palace of the Inca, which stood alone in the great square, was of marble. The temples and buildings for public assemblages, armories, granaries, storehouses, _et cetera_, were of great size. The stones used in their erection were of such dimensions that the Spanish marvelled at the engineering genius which could have quarried them and put them in place, just as the people of to-day are amazed at Baalbec and the pyramids. Stone conduits ran down each street, bringing delicious water to each doorway, and the city was traversed by two mountain streams crossed by bridges cut by watergates. That the cold, clear water might be kept pure and sweet, the beds of the rivers like those of the Euphrates at Babylon, had been paved. The city was surrounded by walls and dominated by a great fortress called Sacsahuaman, which stood upon a steep and rocky hill overlooking the capital. On the side toward the city the fortress was practically impregnable on account of the precipitous slopes of the cliffs. The other side was defended by three stone walls laid out in zigzag shape, with salient and reëntrant angles (demi-lunes), like an old-fashioned rail fence, with many doors, each closed by stone portcullis, in each wall. Within the walls was a citadel of three tall towers. The whole constituted a most formidable position. While Francisco Pizarro was founding and laying out on a magnificent scale and with lavish generosity the city of Lima, near the seaboard, Hernando was made governor of Cuzco. Hernando was, without doubt, the most able and most admirable of the Pizarros, although his fame has been obscured by that of his {95} elder brother. He had been directed by Charles V to treat the Inca and the people with kindness, and, perhaps on that account, he had not exercised so rigorous a surveillance over the movements of young Manco as his ordinary prudence would have dictated. At any rate, the bold and youthful emperor found no difficulty in leaving his ancient capital. He repaired immediately to the Valley of Yucay, in the high mountains of the northeastward of Cuzco. There had been brewing a vast conspiracy against the Spaniards for some time, and at the summons of the Inca, thither resorted the great chiefs of the Peruvians with their retainers and dependents, including their women and children. The partisans of the two Inca half-brothers, who had not been slain, made common cause with each other. All internal differences were forgotten in the presence of the common enemy. They had much to revenge. Their treasures had been taken, their temples polluted, their religion profaned, their monarchs slain, their women outraged and the people forced into a degrading, exhausting slavery. Strange is it to recognize that human slavery was introduced into Peru by the Christians! It is good to think that the manhood of the Peruvians was awakened at last. Manco, burning with fiery patriotic zeal, summoned his great vassals and subjects to his standard. "Death to the Spaniards!" were the watchwords that resounded with fierce war-cries among the mountains and hills. With ancient ceremonies, drinking from a common cup, they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to their hereditary chief in defense of their altars and their fires, their native land. {96} Early in 1536 a vast army swept down through the mountain passes and made toward the ancient capital. The three Pizarros, Hernando, Juan and Gonzalo, put themselves at the head of their horsemen and sallied out to meet them. They killed numbers of Peruvians, but all their valor could not check the resistless force of the patriotic army. The Spaniards were swept back into the city, glad to escape with their lives before such overwhelming numbers; indeed, only a timely attack by a detachment in the rear of the Peruvians saved them from destruction then and there. Cuzco was at once invested. The Indians, with a heroism which cannot be too greatly commended, endeavored to carry the place by assault.[9] They set fire to the thatched roofs of their own houses, devoting their city to flames, like the Russians at Moscow, to compass the annihilation of the detested invaders. The wind favored them, and a besom of flame swept over the devoted town until over one-half of it was laid in ruins. There were ninety Spanish horse in the city, probably as many foot, and a thousand Indian auxiliaries, but they were soldiers of the highest quality and led by three captains whose like for daring and skill are not often seen. No one ever questioned the courage or the military ability of the Pizarros and certainly they exhibited both qualities in full measure during the siege. Of all the brothers, it is probable that Hernando was the most daring cavalier as well as the most capable captain, although in personal prowess his younger brothers were not a whit behind him. Indeed, Gonzalo was {97} reckoned as the best lance in the New World. Stifled by the smoke, scorched by the flames, parched with heat, choked with thirst, exhausted with hunger, crazed from loss of sleep, yet battling with the energy of despair against overwhelming numbers of Indians, who, with a reckless disregard for life, hurled themselves upon the sword-points, the Spaniards after several days of the most terrific fighting, were forced into the square, which they held against their enemy by dint of the most heroic and continuous endeavors. The Peruvians barricaded the streets with the debris of their ruined houses and sharpened stakes, and prepared to press home for a final attack. Although the slaughter among the Indians had been fearful, the odds against the Spaniards did not appear diminished, for it was learned afterward that there were more than one hundred thousand warriors engaged, and, with a host of followers and servants, the total aggregated at least eighty thousand more. And, indeed, the Spaniards mourned the death of many a brave cavalier and stout man-at-arms. In all the fighting the young Inca, in full war-gear of gold and silver, mounted on a captured horse, with a Spanish lance in his hand, had played a hero's dauntless part. At the commencement of the siege there had been a discussion as to whether they should occupy the great fortress of Sacsahuaman, or not. Juan Pizarro had dissuaded the Spanish from the attempt, for, he said: "Our forces are too weak to hold both places. The city is the most important, and should it happen that we need the fortress we can take it any time." Without opposition the Indian High Priest had occupied it with a large body of men. It was evident, at last, that the Spaniards would {98} either have to retreat from their town or seize the fortress, which, now that they had been driven from the walls, commanded their position in the square. Most of the cavaliers were for retreat. There is no doubt that the horse could certainly have cut their way through the ranks of the besiegers, and have escaped, together with most of the foot as well. Hernando was quite as persistent as his indomitable brother Francisco, however, and he talked equally as well to the soldiers. He made them a stirring address which he closed by declaring that he had been sent there to hold the town, and hold it he would if he had to hold it alone; that he would rather die there in the square with the consciousness that he had kept his trust than abandon the place. Juan and Gonzalo seconded his stirring appeal. It was resolved that the fortress should be taken. Hernando proposed to lead the assault in person, but Juan interposed with the remark that he had objected to its seizure in the first instance, and to him rightfully belonged the leadership of the forlorn hope to repair the error. Hernando consented. Juan and Gonzalo, with their commands and fifty of their best horse, were detailed for the purpose. By Hernando's instructions they cut through the Indians and galloped headlong down the road in the direction of Lima. The Indians were deceived by the seeming dash of the horsemen through the lines and, supposing them to be in retreat, turned their attention to the Spaniards left in the square. The conflict which had been intermitted for a space began again with the utmost fury. In the midst of it, Juan Pizarro, who had galloped about a league from the town and then made a long {99} detour, suddenly appeared at Sacsahuaman. The Spaniards immediately rushed to the assault. This diversion caused the Indians, who had been literally forcing the Spaniards in the town up against the wall, and in the last ditch, as it were, to give ground. Thereupon the dauntless Hernando charged upon them, drove them out of the square, and succeeded in establishing communications with Juan and Gonzalo on the hill. He directed Juan to hold his position and make no attack, but Juan thought he saw an opportunity to gain the fortress, and at vespers the Spaniards rushed at the walls. There were Indians not only within but without the walls, and the fighting was soon of the most sanguinary description. Juan Pizarro had been wounded previously in a skirmish and on account of this wound was unable to wear his morion. Hernando had especially cautioned him to be careful on this account; but the impetuous valor of the Pizarros was not to be restrained by considerations of any personal safety, and Juan was in the front rank of the storming party. They had cut their way through to the fort and were battling for entrance when a stone hurled from the tower struck Juan in the head, knocking him senseless. The wound was of such a character that two weeks afterward he died of it in great agony. He was the first to pay the penalty. History has preserved little concerning him, but some chroniclers have found him the highest-minded of the brothers--possibly because less is known about him! At any rate, he was a valiant soldier. Gonzalo succeeded to the leadership, and although he and his men fought heroically, they were at last forced back from the fortress in spite of the fact that {100} they had gained the outer walls. The fighting had transferred itself from the city to the hills, which was a sad tactical error on the part of the Peruvians, for they had force enough to overwhelm Hernando and his men in the city, while they held Juan and Gonzalo in play at Sacsahuaman, in which case all the Spaniards would eventually have fallen into their hands. As night fell Hernando left the city and came up to the hill. The Spaniards busied themselves in making scaling-ladders, and in the morning, with the aid of the ladders, the assault was resumed with desperate fury. Wall after wall was carried, and finally the fighting ranged around the citadel. The Inca had sent five thousand of his best men to reënforce the defenders, but the Spaniards succeeded in preventing their entrance to the fort which was now in a sorry plight. The ammunition--arrows, spears, stone, _et cetera_--of the garrison was almost spent. The Spanish attack was pressed as rigorously as at the beginning. The High Priest--priests have ever been among the first to incite people to war, and among the first to abandon the field of battle--fled with a great majority of his followers, and escaped by subterranean passages from the citadel, leaving but a few defenders to do or die. First among them was a chief, whose name, unfortunately, has not been preserved. He was one of those, however, who had drunk of the cup and pledged himself in the mountains of Yucay. Driven from wall to wall and from tower to tower, he and his followers made a heroic defense. The Spanish chroniclers say that when this hero, whose exploits recall the half-mythical legends of the early Roman Republic, when men were as demi-gods, saw one of his men falter, he {101} stabbed him and threw his body upon the Spaniards. At last he stood alone upon the last tower. The assailants offered him quarter, which he disdained. Shouting his war-cry of defiance, he dashed his sole remaining weapon in the faces of the escaladers and then hurled himself bodily upon them to die on their sword-points. Let him be remembered as a soldier, a patriot, and a gentleman. The fortress was gained! Dismayed by the fearful loss that they had sustained, the Peruvians, who had fought so valiantly, if so unsuccessfully, withdrew temporarily. Hernando Pizarro was master of the situation. He employed the few days of respite given him in gathering supplies and strengthening his position. It was well that he did so, for in a short time the Peruvians once more appeared around the city, to which they laid a regular siege. There was more sharp fighting, but nothing like the Homeric combats of the first investment. The Peruvians had risen all over the land. Detached parties of Spaniards had been cut off without mercy. Francisco Pizarro was besieged in Lima. Messengers and ships were despatched in every direction, craving assistance. Francisco did not know what had happened in Cuzco, and the brothers in that city began to despair of their being extricated from their terrible predicament. Help came to them from an unexpected source. We left Almagro marching toward Chili. His was no lovely promenade through a pleasant, smiling, fertile, wealthy land. He traversed vast deserts under burning skies. He climbed lofty mountains in freezing cold and found nothing. In despair, he turned back to Peru. The limits assigned to Pizarro were {102} not clear. Almagro claimed that the city of Cuzco was within his province, and determined to return and take it. On the way his little army, under the command of a very able soldier named Orgonez, met and defeated a large army of Peruvians. This, taken with the arrival of the harvest time, which must of necessity be gathered if the people were not to starve, caused the subsequent dissipation of the Peruvian army. The Inca maintained a fugitive court in the impregnable and secret fastnesses of the mountains, but the Peruvians never gave any more trouble to the Spaniards. They had spent themselves in this one fierce but futile blow. I am glad for the sake of their manhood that at least they had fought one great battle for their lands and liberties. [Illustration: "He Threw His Sole Remaining Weapon in the Faces of the Escaladers"] VII. "The Men of Chili" and the Civil Wars Almagro, assisted by treachery on the part of some of the Spaniards who hated the Pizarros, made himself master of the city, and, breaking his plighted word, seized Hernando and Gonzalo. Meanwhile Francisco, the Marquis, had despatched a certain captain named Alvarado with a force to relieve Cuzco. Almagro marched out with his army and defeated the superior force of Alvarado in the battle of Abancay, in July, 1537, in which, through the generalship of Orgonez, Alvarado's troops were captured with little or no loss in Almagro's army. Almagro had left Gonzalo Pizarro behind in Cuzco, but had taken Hernando, heavily guarded, with him. Orgonez had urged Almagro to put both of them to death. "Dead men," he pithily remarked, "need no guards." On the principle of "In for a penny, in for a pound," {103} Almagro was already deep enough in the bad graces of Francisco Pizarro, and he might as well be in deeper than he was, especially as the execution of Hernando would remove his worst enemy. But Almagro does not appear to have been an especially cruel man. He was an easy-going, careless, jovial, pleasure-loving soldier, and he spared the lives of the two brothers. Gonzalo escaped, and assembling a force, immediately took the field. [Illustration: Fernando Cortes. From a Picture in the Florence Gallery] There had been a meeting between Francisco and Almagro. The latter got an inkling that there was treachery intended, and though the meeting had begun with embraces and tears, it was broken off abruptly and both the ancient partners prepared for an appeal to arms. Almagro had released Hernando on his promise to return immediately to Spain. This promise Hernando broke. Francisco made his brother commander of the army, and the forces of the two commanders met on the plains of Salinas on the 6th of April, 1538. There were about seven hundred on one side, Pizarro's, and five hundred on the other, equally divided between horse and foot, with a few pieces of artillery in both armies. The men of Chili, as Almagro's forces were called, hated their former comrades, and Pizarro's men returned this feeling with such animosities as are engendered nowhere save in civil war. Victory finally attended Hernando Pizarro. He had fought in the ranks like a common soldier, save that he had been at great pains so to distinguish himself by his apparel that every one could know him, so that all who sought him could find him. Orgonez was slain as he lay on the ground, wounded. Such was the close, fierce fighting that the killed alone numbered nearly {104} two hundred, besides a proportionately greater number wounded. Almagro had watched the battle from an adjacent hill. He was old and ill, broken down from excesses and dissipations. Unable to sit a horse, he had been carried thither on a litter. The sight of his routed army admonished him to try to escape. With great pain and difficulty he got upon a horse, but being pursued, the animal stumbled and Almagro fell to the ground. Some of Pizarro's men were about to dispatch him when Hernando interfered. He was taken prisoner to Cuzco and held in captivity for a while. Hernando had announced his intention of sending him to Spain for trial, but a conspiracy to effect his release, in which was our old friend De Candia, caused a change in his purposes. Almagro was tried on charges which were easily trumped up, was found guilty, of course, and in spite of his protestations and piteous appeals for life, he was strangled to death at night in his prison on the 8th of July, 1538, in the sixty-fifth year of his life. His head was then struck from his shoulders and both were exhibited in the great square at Cuzco. Vainglorious, ignorant, incompetent, yet cheerful, generous, frank, kindly and open-hearted, and badly treated by Pizarro and his brothers, he possibly deserved a better fate. The Pizarro brothers affected to be overcome by the stern necessity which compelled poor Almagro's execution. As Francisco had done when he had killed Atahualpa, these two put on mourning and insisted upon being pall-bearers, and exhibited every outward manifestation of deep and abiding grief. Almagro left a son, Diego, by an Indian woman, to whom he had not been married. This young man {105} was under the guardianship of Pizarro at Lima. The sword of Damocles hung over his head for a while, but he was spared eventually and, the rebellion of Almagro having been cut down, the revolt of the Inca crushed, peace appeared once more to dwell in the land. VIII. The Mean End of the Great Conquistador But fate had not finished with the Pizarros as yet. Hernando was sent back to Spain to explain the situation, and Gonzalo despatched to Quito, of which province he was made governor. He had instructions to explore the country eastward to see if he could find another Peru. He made a marvelous march to the head-waters of the Amazon River, where he was deserted by one of his commanders, Orellana, who built a brigantine, sailed down the whole length of the Amazon, finally reaching Europe, while Gonzalo and those few of his wretched followers who survived the terrible hardships of that march, struggled back to Quito. Francisco, the Marquis, was thus left alone in Peru. The position of the men of Chili was precarious. Although outwardly things were peaceful, yet they felt that at any time Pizarro might institute war against them. They got the young Almagro away from him, and a score of men under Juan de Rada, a stout-hearted veteran, mercenary soldier, determined to put the Marquis to death and proclaim the young Almagro as Lord and Dictator of Peru. On Sunday afternoon, the 26th of June, 1541, De Rada and nineteen desperate men of Chili, met at De Rada's house in Lima. Pizarro had received a number of warnings which he had neglected, confident {106} in the security of his position, but the existence of the conspiracy had been brought home to him with peculiar force that Sunday, and he had remained in his palace at Lima surrounded by a number of gentlemen devoted to his cause. At vespers--which seems to have been a favorite hour for nefarious deeds among the Spaniards--the assassins sallied forth from the home of De Rada and started for the palace. Such was the indifference in which the people held the squabbles between the Pizarrists and the Almagrists, that it was casually remarked by many of them, as the assassins proceeded through the streets, that they were probably on their way to kill the governor. The governor was at supper on the second floor of his palace. There was a sudden tumult in the square below. The door was forced open and the Almagrists, shouting "Death to Pizarro!" rushed for the stairs. Most of the noble company with the old Marquis fled. The great conquistador at least had no thought of flight. There remained with him, however, two pages, his brother Martin de Alcántara, Francisco de Chaves, one of the immortal thirteen of Gallo, and another cavalier, named De Luna. As they heard the clash of arms on the stairs and the shouting of the assailants, the Marquis ordered De Chaves to close the door; then he sprang to the wall, tore from it his corselet and endeavored to buckle it on his person. De Chaves unwisely attempted to parley, instead of closing the door and barring it. The assailants forced the entrance, cut down De Chaves, and burst into the room. Pizarro gave over the attempt to fasten his breastplate, and seizing a sword and spear, defended himself stoutly while pealing his war-cry: "Santiago!" through the palace. The two pages, {107} fighting valiantly, were soon cut down. De Alcántara and De Luna were also killed, and finally, Pizarro, an old man over seventy years of age, stood alone before the murderers. Such was the wonderful address of the sword play with which he defended himself that the conspirators were at a loss how to take him, until De Rada, ruthlessly seizing one of his comrades, pitilessly thrust him upon Pizarro's sword-point, and, before the old man could withdraw the weapon, cut him in the throat with his sword. Instantly Pizarro was struck by a dozen blades. He fell back upon the floor, but he was not yet dead, and with his own blood he marked a cross on the stones. It is alleged by some that he asked for a confessor, but that is hardly likely, for as he bent his head to press his lips upon the cross, one of the murderers, seizing a huge stone bowl, or earthen vessel, threw it upon his head and killed him. _Sic transit Pizarro_! If he has been the subject of much severe censure, he has not lacked, especially of late, zealous defenders. I have endeavored to treat him fairly in these sketches. Considering him in comparison with his contemporaries, Cortes surpassed him in ability, Hernando in executive capacity, Almagro in generosity, Balboa in gallantry, and De Soto in courtesy. On the other hand, he was inferior to none of them in bravery and resolution, and he made up for his lack of other qualities by a terrible and unexampled persistency. Nothing could swerve him from his determination. He had a faculty of rising to each successive crisis which confronted him, wresting victory from the most adverse circumstances in a way worthy of the highest admiration. He was not so cruel as Pedrarias, but he was {108} ruthless enough and his fame is forever stained by atrocities and treacheries from which no personal or public success can redeem it. In passing judgment upon him, account must be taken of the humble circumstances of his early life, his lack of decent, healthy environment, his neglected youth, his total ignorance of polite learning. Take him all in all, in some things he was better and in other things no worse than his day and generation. IX. The Last of the Brethren Hernando Pizarro was delayed on his voyage to Spain and some of Almagro's partisans got the ear of the King before he arrived. He was charged with having permitted by his carelessness the Peruvian uprising and having unlawfully taken the life of Almagro. The story of his desperate defense of Cusco was unavailing to mitigate the anger of the King at the anarchy and confusion--and incidentally the diminution of the royal revenue--which prevailed in Peru. Hernando was thrown into prison at Medina, and kept there for twenty-three long and weary years. He had married his own niece, Francisca Pizarro, illegitimate daughter of the Marquis Francisco, by a daughter of the great Inca, Huayna Capac. The woman was a half-sister of Atahualpa and Huascar. By this questionable means, the family of the Pizarros, with certain dignities, restored for their Peruvian service, was perpetuated in Spain. Hernando died at the age of one hundred and four. De Rada, after the assassination of Francisco, assembled the ancient partisans of Almagro. They swore fealty to the young Almagro, and immediately {109} took the field against a new governor sent out by Charles V. to take charge of affairs in Peru. This Vaca de Castro, through his able lieutenants, Alvarado and Carvajal, defeated the forces of Almagro on the bloody and desperately fought field of Chapus, took the young man prisoner to Cuzco, and beheaded him forthwith. He met his death bravely, without beseeching or repining. Before the fate of the battle was decided, Almagro, suspecting that the gunner, De Candia, another of the thirteen who had adhered to his cause, was not serving his artillery with so good effect as he might, ran him through the body. There remains but one of the brothers who gave Peru to Spain, the magnificent cavalier, Gonzalo. His fate may be briefly summarized. Another Viceroy, named Blasco Nuñez Vela, succeeded De Castro. He had orders to release the Peruvians from servitude, which meant that the conquerors and the thousands who had come after, would have been compelled to work. Led by Gonzalo, who had been rewarded for his services in the rebellion against Almagro by a domain in Peru which included the newly discovered mines of Potosi, which provided him with the sinews of war, the people rebelled against the Viceroy. Pizarro and his lieutenant, Carvajal, deposed and defeated the Viceroy in a battle near Quito on the 18th of January, 1546, the latter losing his life. Gonzalo Pizarro was now the supreme lord of Peru, which included practically the whole of the South American coast from the Isthmus of Darien to the Straits of Magellan, for Valdivia, one of Francisco Pizarro's lieutenants, had partially conquered Chili at last. The Spanish monarch, three thousand miles away, {110} could do nothing by force. He sent an able and devoted ecclesiastic, Gasca by name, clothing him with dictatorial powers, to see what he could do. Gasca arrived at Panama, cunningly and tactfully won the captains of Gonzalo's navy to his side, went to Peru, assembled a force, and although Centeno, one of his lieutenants, was badly defeated by Gonzalo and Carvajal on the 26th of October, 1547, at Huarina, the bloodiest battle ever fought in Peru, finally gained strength enough to march to Cuzco, where Gonzalo had command of a large and splendidly equipped army. Gasca, by promising that the obnoxious laws concerning the Indians should be repealed, and adroitly pointing out that those who adhered to Gonzalo were, in effect, in rebellion against their sovereign, had so undermined the allegiance of his men that Gonzalo, who had marched to the Valley of Xaquixaguana, found himself deserted on the eve of the battle by all but a handful of faithful retainers. "What shall we do?" asked one of the devoted followers. "Fall on them and die like Romans." "I believe I should prefer to die like a Christian," said Gonzalo calmly. Recognizing that it was all up with him, riding forward with Carvajal and the rest, he coolly surrendered himself to Gasca. Carvajal was hung, drawn and quartered. Gonzalo, the last of the brothers, was beheaded in the great square at Cuzco. He was magnificently arrayed as he rode to his death. His vast estates, including the mines of Potosi, had been confiscated and all his possessions were on his back. He met his fate with the courage of the family. Before he {111} died he made a little address from the scaffold. Contrasting his present poverty with his former state, he asked those who had been his friends and who owed him anything, and also those who had been his enemies, to lay out some of the treasure they had gained through his family and himself in masses for the repose of his soul. Then he knelt down before a table bearing a crucifix, and prayed silently. At last he turned to the executioner and said: "Do your duty with a steady hand!" So he made a rather dramatic and picturesque exit there in the square at Cuzco, on that sunny morning in April, 1548. His head was exhibited at Lima with that of Carvajal. To it was attached this inscription: "This is the head of the traitor, Gonzalo Pizarro, who rebelled in Peru against his sovereign and battled against the royal standard at the Valley of Xaquixaguana." There remains but one other person whose fate excites a passing interest, unless it be Bishop Valverde, who was killed, while on a journey, by the Peruvians, some years before; this is the last Inca, Manco Capac. When De Rada and his band started out to assassinate Pizarro, one of the soldiers, named Gomez Perez, made a detour as they crossed the square, to keep from getting his feet wet in a puddle of muddy water which had overflowed from one of the conduits. "You shrink," cried De Rada, in contempt, "from wetting your feet, who are about to wade in the blood of the governor! Go back, we will have none of you." He had not permitted Perez to take part in the assassination. This Perez, after the final defeat of the Almagrists, fled to the mountains where Manco still exercised a fugitive sway over such of his people {112} as could escape the Spaniards. He was afterward pardoned and used as a medium of communication between Gasca and the Inca. The priest viceroy was anxious to be at peace with the Inca, but Manco refused to trust himself to the Spaniards. Perez and he were playing bowls one day in the mountains. Perez either cheated, or in some way incensed the unfortunate Inca, who peremptorily reproved him, whereupon the Spaniard, in a fit of passion, hurled his heavy stone bowl at the last of the Incas, and killed him. That was the end of Perez, also, for the attendants of the young Inca stabbed him to death. Thus all those who had borne a prominent part in the great adventures had gone to receive such certain reward as they merited; which reward was not counted out to them in the form of gold and silver, or stones of price. The sway in the new land of the king over the sea was absolute at last, and there was peace, such as it was, in Peru. [1] "What is this, Francisco Pizarro?" Balboa asked, in great astonishment, of his former lieutenant and comrade, meeting him and his soldiers on the way with the order of arrest. "You were not wont to come out in this fashion to receive me!" [2] Magellan had crossed it from the south five years before. [3] Prescott, to whose remarkable accuracy, considering the time in which he wrote, the authorities at his command, and the disabilities under which he labored, I am glad to testify, in view of the prevalent opinion that his books are literature and not history, says thirteen; Helps says fifteen, while Markham and Fiske say sixteen. Kirk verifies Prescott's conclusion with a good argument. One thing there is to which no one but Prescott seems to have called attention or explained. Everybody says Ruiz, the old pilot, was the first to follow Pizarro across the line. If so, he must have stepped back again, probably at Pizarro's request, for six months later we find him leaving Panama in charge of the ship which took Pizarro and his devoted subordinates off the Island of Gorgona. Ruiz could only have reached Panama in Tafur's ship. Certain it is that only thirteen men were ennobled for their heroic constancy on the Island of Gallo, as we shall see later. The three names added to Prescott's list are put there on the authority of Garcilasso de la Vega, the son of a Spanish cavalier and an Inca princess. Two of the three men he mentions he claims told him personally that they had been of the heroic band which had refused to abandon Pizarro. Such claims made by men who may really believe them to be true after the event, are not rare in history. Whatever the exact number, there were but a handful. The rest, choosing Panama, remained on the north side of the line, and I have no doubt regretted their decision for the rest of their lives. [4] Generally speaking, the Peruvians were monogamous, except in case of the Inca, who had as many wives as he wished, and who sometimes rewarded exceptional services by allowing some favored adherent an extra wife. [5] The exact number varies with different authorities, none of whom, however, makes the total greater than two hundred. [6] Napoleon at Toulon succeeded in getting volunteers to man a particularly dangerous artillery outpost swept by the guns of the enemy, by the simple expedient of denominating the position as the "Battery of the Fearless," or the "Battery of those who are not afraid." Even better than Pizarro, this great Corsican soldier of fortune knew how to handle his men. [7] Authorities differ as to which it was. The matter is not material, anyway. [8] The ransom of King John II. of France, taken prisoner by the Black Prince, was three million golden crowns. The value of the ancient ecu de la couronne varied between $1.50 and $1.30, so that the ransom of John was between four and one-half and seven million dollars. Estimating the purchasing power of money in John's time at two and one-half times that of the present, we arrive at a ransom of between eleven and eighteen million dollars. If we split the difference and call the ransom fourteen and a half millions, we still find that the Christian monarch was slightly undervalued as compared with his heathen fellow in misery. However, all this is profitless, because the ransom of John was never paid. [9] Query: Does the reader not wish that the Peruvians had succeeded? Indeed, how can the reader help wishing that? Yet would it have been better for the world if the Peruvians had succeeded in expelling the Spaniards, or would it have been worse? These questions afford matter for interesting speculation. {115} IV The Greatest Adventure in History I. The Chief of all the Soldiers of Fortune At the close of the fifteenth century, to be exact, in the year 1500, in the town of Painala, in the Province of Coatzacualco, one of the feudatory divisions of the great Aztec empire of Mexico, there was born a young girl who was destined to exercise upon the fortunes of her country an influence as great as it was baleful, as wonderful as it was unfortunate. She was the daughter of the Cacique of Tenepal, who was Lord of the town and province, a feoff of the Mexican Emperor Montezuma Xocoyotzin. This was the second Montezuma who had occupied the imperial throne and his last name means "The Younger," which he adopted to distinguish him from his predecessor in the empire. This Lord of Painala, whose name has been forgotten, unfortunately for his country departed this life soon after the birth of his daughter, who was called Malinal because she was born on the twelfth day of the month, her name indicating that fact. His property naturally devolved upon the young daughter. Her mother assumed the office of guardian and regent of the state. This lady, whose name has also been lost in oblivion, did not long remain single. After her second marriage, which apparently took place with a somewhat indecent hurry, there was born to {116} her and her new consort, a young son. To secure to this son the inheritance, she sold her little daughter, too young to realize the unfortunate transaction, to some traders of Xicalango, who in turn disposed of her to a coast tribe of Aztecs called the Tabascans. She lived in bondage with the Tabascans until she was nineteen years old. She developed into a woman of rare beauty and unusual intellect. Something of the power of high birth was evidently hers, for she escaped the degrading servitude of the time, and was carefully trained and prepared for some higher purpose. This girl was to be the instrument of the downfall of her native land. Now it happened that when Malinal was nineteen years old, the rumor of a strange visitation ran up and down the shore among the people who dwelt upon the great Gulf of Mexico. Some remarkable beings, the like of whom had never been seen or heard of within the memory of living man, in some remarkable boats which absolutely transcended the imagination of the Aztecs, had been seen upon the coast and some of them had landed at different points. Also there had sifted from the south, from the Isthmus of Darien and the Panama States, some account of these white-skinned demi-gods. Just enough rumor was current to cause alarm and uneasiness in the Aztec Empire when the attention of the rulers was called to some definite facts. On Good Friday, March 23, 1519, the dreaded and expected happened, for there landed at what is now the city of Vera Cruz, in the territory of the Tabascans, vassals of Montezuma, a party of these strange adventurers. They were led by a man of mature years, whose name was Fernando Cortes--sometimes written {117} Hernando Cortes. Like Pizarro, whose history has been related, he was from the forgotten province of Estremadura. He was born in the year 1485, in the city of Medellin. He was seven years old when Columbus set sail upon that epoch-making voyage of discovery and he was thirty-four when he set foot for the first time on the shores of Mexico. In the intervening years much interesting and valuable experience had been enjoyed. The parents of Cortes belonged to the provincial nobility. They were worthy and respectable subjects of the King of Spain. The old-fashioned adjectives, "poor, but honest" could be applied to them. The boy was a puny, sickly lad, whom they scarcely expected to reach man's estate. When he was fourteen years old they entered him in the great University of Salamanca where he took his degree as Bachelor of Laws, after a two years' course. The law, in Spain, was considered an entirely proper profession for the nobility, especially when the nobility were unable, through narrow circumstances, properly to support the profession of arms. Cortes, therefore, was in receipt of a liberal education for his day. His letters, some of which will be quoted hereafter, are evidences of his mental training. In some respects they are as interesting as are the famous Commentaries of Julius Caesar. The young man, whose constitution improved as he grew older, until he eventually became the hardiest, most enduring and bravest of his company, which included the most intrepid men of the age, had no love for the humdrum profession of law. He desired to go to Italy and take service with Gonsalvo de Cordova, who is remembered, when he is remembered at all, as "The Great Captain"; but sickness prevented. {118} Following that, his thoughts turned, as did those of so many Spanish youths who were of an adventurous disposition, toward the New World. After many setbacks, one of which was caused by a wound received by the hot-blooded young man while engaged in a love affair, and which left a permanent scar upon his upper lip, he finally landed at Santo Domingo in the Spring of 1504. From there he went to Cuba and served under one Diego Velasquez, the governor of that province in some fierce fighting in the island, and received as a reward from the governor, who was much attached to him, a large plantation with a number of Indians to work it. There he married and lived prosperously. What he had done before he arrived in Mexico counted little. What he did afterward gave him eternal fame as one, if not the greatest, of the conquerors and soldiers of fortune in all history. Sir Arthur Helps thus portrays him: "Cortes," he says, "was an heroic adventurer, a very politic statesman, and an admirable soldier. He was cruel at times in conduct, but not in disposition; he was sincerely religious, profoundly dissembling, courteous, liberal, amorous, decisive. There was a certain grandeur in all his proceedings. He was fertile in resources; and, while he looked forward, he was at the same time almost madly audacious in his enterprises. This strange mixture of valor, religion, policy, and craft, was a peculiar product of the century. . . . There are two main points in his character which I shall dwell upon at the outset. These are his soldier-like qualities and his cruelty. As a commander, the only fault imputed to him, was his recklessness in exposing himself to the dangers of personal conflict with the enemy. But then, that is an error {119} to be commonly noticed even in the greatest generals of that period; and Cortes, with this singular dexterity in arms, was naturally prone to fall into this error. As regards his peculiar qualifications as a commander, it may be observed, that, great as he was in carrying out large and difficult operations in actual warfare, he was not less so in attending to those minute details upon which so much of the efficiency of troops depends. His companion-in-arms, Bernal Diaz, says of him, 'He would visit the hut of every soldier, see that his arms were ready at hand, and that he had his shoes on. Those whom he found had neglected anything in this way he severely reprimanded, and compared them to mangy sheep, whose own wool is too heavy for them.' "I have said that he was cruel in conduct, but not in disposition. This statement requires explanation. Cortes was a man who always determined to go through with the thing he had once resolved to do. Human beings, if they came in his way, were to be swept out of it, like any other material obstacles. He desired no man's death, but if people would come between him and success, they must bear the consequences. He did not particularly value human life. The ideas of the nineteenth century in that respect were unknown to him. He had come to conquer, to civilize, to convert (for he was really a devout man from his youth upward); and, as his chaplain takes care to tell us, knew many prayers and psalms of the choir by heart; and the lives of thousands of barbarians, for so he deemed them, were of no account in the balance of his mind, when set against the great objects he had in view. In saying this, I am not apologizing for this cruelty; I am only endeavoring to explain it. "Of all the generals who have been made known {120} to us in history, or by fiction, Claverhouse, as represented by Sir Walter Scott, most closely resembles Cortes. Both of them thorough gentlemen, very dignified, very nice and precise in all their ways and habits, they were sadly indifferent to the severity of the means by which they compassed their ends; and bloody deeds sat easily, for the most part, upon their well-bred natures. I make these comments once for all; and shall hold myself excused from making further comments of a like nature when any of the cruelties of Cortes come before us--cruelties which one must ever deeply deplore on their own account, and bitterly regret as ineffaceable strains upon the fair fame and memory of a very great man. . . . The conquest of Mexico could hardly have been achieved at this period under any man of less genius than that which belonged to Hernando Cortes. And even his genius would probably not have attempted the achievement, or would have failed in it, but for a singular concurrence of good and evil fortune, which contributed much to the ultimate success of his enterprise. Great difficulties and fearful conflicts of fortune not only stimulate to great attempts, but absolutely create the opportunities for them." II. The Expedition to Mexico. Reports brought back to Cuba by one Juan de Grijilva, who told of the populous and wealthy cities of the main land to the westward of Cuba, induced Velasquez to fit out an expedition for exploration, colonization or whatever might turn up. Casting about among his friends, followers, and acquaintances for a suitable leader, his choice after some hesitation {121} devolved upon Cortes. This nascent captain had not lived at the provincial court of Velasquez without impressing his characteristics upon those with whom he came in contact. After the outfitting of the expedition had progressed considerably, Velasquez was warned that Cortes was of too high and resolved a spirit to be trusted with an independent command, and it was probable that upon this opportunity he would disregard his instructions and act for his own interests, without giving another thought to Velasquez and his backers. Velasquez ignored the suggestions that he displace Cortes until it was too late. Cortes, learning that his enemies were undermining him with the governor, hastily completed his preparations and set sail a short time in advance of the arrival of the order displacing him from the command. His little squadron touched at a point in Cuba and was there overtaken by the missive from Velasquez, which Cortes absolutely disregarded. He had embarked his property and had persuaded his friends to invest and did not propose to be displaced by anybody or anything. The expedition consisted of eleven ships. The flag was a small caravel of one hundred tons burden. There were three others of eighty tons each, and the seven remaining were small, undecked brigantines. Authorities vary as to the number of men in the expedition, but there were between five hundred and fifty and six hundred Spaniards, two hundred Indian servants, ten small pieces of artillery, four falconets and sixteen horses. The truth must be admitted. There were three factors which contributed to the downfall of that vast empire against which this expedition of adventurers {122} was launched. One of them was Cortes himself, the second was Malinal, and the third was the sixteen, doubtless sorry horses, loaded into the ships. Fiske says: "It was not enough that the Spanish soldier of that day was a bulldog for strength and courage, or that his armor was proof against stone arrows and lances, or that he wielded a Toledo blade that could cut through silken cushions, or that his arquebus and cannon were not only death-dealing weapons but objects of superstitious awe. More potent than all else together were those frightful monsters, the horses. Before these animals men, women, and children fled like sheep, or skulked and peeped from behind their walls in an ecstasy of terror. It was that paralyzing, blood-curdling fear of the supernatural, against which no amount of physical bravery, nothing in the world but modern knowledge, is of the slightest avail." After touching at various places, in one of which they were lucky enough to find and release a Spanish captive named Geronimo de Aguilar, who had been wrecked on the Yucatan coast while on a voyage from the Spanish settlement in Darien and had been taken captive by the Mayas and held for several years. The hospitable Mayas had eaten most of the expedition. There were then but two alive. One had renounced his religion, married a Maya woman, and had been elected chieftain of the tribe, and accordingly refused to join Cortes. Aguilar was unfettered and glad of the opportunity. During his sojourn among the Mayas he had learned to speak their language fluently. After landing at Tabasco on Good Friday, there was a great battle with the warlike inhabitants of that section, a battle which resulted in the complete {123} discomfiture of the Tabascans. The artillery did much to bring this about, but was not especially terrifying to the aborigines because they crowded in such numbers around the Spaniards, and made such terrific outcries, beating on their drums the while, that they drowned out the noise of the cannonade; but when Cortes at the head of the horsemen sallied out from the woods, and fell upon them, the strange, terrifying spectacle presented by these mail-clad monsters and demons, took the heart out of the Tabascans, and they abandoned the contest, leaving, so the chroniclers say, countless numbers dead upon the field. They knew when they had had enough, and immediately thereafter, they sued for peace. Cortes was graciously pleased to grant their request, and to accept as a peace-offering a score of slaves. Among them was Malinal. In the allotment of the slaves among the officers, she fell to the share of Alonzo de Puerto Carrero from whom Cortes speedily acquired her. Of all the Indians present with Cortes, Malinal alone could speak two languages. The Tabascans spoke a sort of degenerate Maya, with which, as she had lived among them so long, she was of course perfectly familiar, at the same time she had not forgotten her native Mexican. It would have been impossible for Cortes to have communicated with the Mexicans without Malinal, for Aguilar could turn Spanish into Maya, and Malinal could turn Maya into Mexican. This means of communication, round about though it might be, was at once established. The intervention of Aguilar soon became unnecessary, for Malinal presently learned to speak pure Castilian with fluency and grace. She received instruction from the worthy priests who accompanied the expedition and was {124} baptised under the name of Marina, and it is by that name that she is known in history. Her eminence is even greater than that unfortunate Florinda, whose father, to revenge her mistreatment by King Roderick, the Goth, sold Spain to Tarik, the Saracen, so many centuries before. Marina learnt among other things to love Cortes, whose fortunes she followed and whom she served with an absolute, unquestioning, blind devotion and fidelity until the end. So absolute was this attachment of hers that Cortes became known to the Aztecs as the Lord of Marina. The Aztecs could not pronounce the letter R. Marina was therefore changed to Malina, which curiously enough was nearly her original name. The word "Tzin" is the Aztec name for Lord, consequently Cortes was called Malintzin, or more shortly Malinche, meaning, as has been stated, the Lord of Malina. Sir Arthur Helps has this to say of her: "Indeed her fidelity was assured by the love which she bore her master. Bernal Diaz says that she was handsome, clever, and eager to be useful (one that will have an oar in every boat), and she looked the great lady that she was. "There was hardly any person in history to whom the ruin of that person's native land can be so distinctly brought home, as it can be to the wicked mother of Donna Marina. Cortes, valiant and skilful as he was in the use of the sword, was not less valiant (perhaps we might say, not less audacious) nor less skilful, in the use of the tongue. All the craft which he afterward showed in negotiations would have been profitless without a competent and trusty interpreter. . . . If a medal had been struck to commemorate the deeds of {125} Cortes, the head of Donna Marina should have been associated with that of Cortes on the face of the medal; for, without her aid, his conquest of Mexico would never have been accomplished." III. The Religion of the Aztecs Now the Aztec Empire was a rather loose confederation of states bound together by allegiance to a common overlord, who had his capital across the mountains in the City of Mexico. It had been founded by the influx of an army of fierce marauders from the North who had overwhelmed the Toltecs who occupied the country and had attained a degree of civilization which is presumed to have been higher than that which displaced it. This Empire of Anahuac, as it was sometimes called, had endured for two centuries. It was a military despotism and the emperor was a military despot. His rule was the rule of fear. It subsisted by force of arms and terror was its cohering power. It had been extended by ruthless conquest alone until it comprised from eighteen hundred to two thousand square leagues, about two hundred thousand square miles of territory. The capital, situated on an island in the midst of a salt lake, was known as Tenochtitlan, or the City of Mexico, and what Rome was to the Italian states, or Carthage was to the north African literal, this city was to Anahuac, the empire of the Aztecs. The name Tenochtitlan is thus explained by Fiske: "When the Aztecs, hard pressed by foes, took refuge among these marshes, they came upon a sacrificial stone which they recognized as one upon which some years before one of their priests had immolated a captive {126} chief. From a crevice in this stone, where a little earth was imbedded, there grew a cactus, upon which sat an eagle holding in its beak a serpent. A priest ingeniously interpretated this symbolism as a prophecy of signal and long-continued victory, and, forthwith diving into the lake, he had an interview with Tlaloc, the god of waters, who told him that upon that very spot the people were to build their town. The place was thereafter called Tenochtitlan, or "the place of the cactus-rock," but the name under which it afterward came to be best known was taken from Mexitl, one of the names of the war god Huitzilopochtli. The device of the rock, the cactus, with the eagle and the serpent, formed a tribal totem for the Aztecs, and has been adopted, as the coat-of-arms of the present Republic of Mexico." Included in the sway of its emperor were many different tribes. They were kept in submission by the strong and inexorable hand. There were a few tribes, however, which had not been subdued and which still maintained a more or less precarious independence. The subject peoples were only kept from open rebellion by the most rigorous and oppressive measures. There was jealousy, humiliation, hoped-for revenge throughout the entire empire. Each tribe or people had its own local god, but there was a bond coherent in the general Mexican religion that had its centre of worship in the great city, and which all of them followed. This religion was one of the most ferocious, degrading and disgusting of any in history. It required human sacrifice on a larger scale than had ever before been practised. Cannibalism was universal. Captives of war were sacrificed to the gods and their bodies eaten. In Mexico, {127} itself, with all its charm, with all its beauty, with all its luxuries, with all its verdure and wealth, there were huge pyramids of skulls. The priests were ferocious creatures, whose long black locks, never combed, were matted with blood, as they sacrificed to their awful war-god human hearts, still palpitating, torn from the victims a moment since alive. Fiske thus describes the temple pyramid and chief shrine in the great city: "On the summit was a dreadful block of jasper, convex at the top, so that when the human victim was laid upon his back and held down, the breast was pushed upwards, ready for the priest to make one deep slashing cut and snatch out the heart. Near the sacrificial block were the altars, and sanctuaries of the gods, Tezcatlipoca, Huitzilopochtli, and others, with idols as hideous as their names. On these altars smoked fresh human hearts, of which the gods were fond, while other parts of the bodies were ready for the kitchens of the communal houses below. The gods were voracious as wolves, and the victims as numerous. In some cases the heart was thrust into the mouth of the idol with a golden spoon, in others the lips were simply daubed with blood. In the temple a great quantity of rattlesnakes, kept as sacred objects were fed with the entrails of the victims. Other parts of the body were given to the menagerie beasts, which were probably also kept for purposes of religious symbolism. Blood was also rubbed into the mouths of the carved serpents upon the jambs and lintels of the houses. The walls and floor of the great temple were clotted with blood and shreds of human flesh, and the smell was like that of a slaughter-house. Just outside the temple, in front of the broad street which {128} led across the causeway to Tlacopan, stood the _tzompantli_, which was an oblong parallelogram of earth and masonry, one hundred and fifty-four feet (long) at the base, ascended by thirty steps, on each of which were skulls. Round the summit were upward of seventy raised poles about four feet apart, connected by numerous rows of cross-poles passed through holes in the masts, on each of which five skulls were filed, the sticks being passed through the temples. In the centre stood two towers, or columns, made of skulls and lime, the face of each skull being turned outwards, and giving a horrible appearance to the whole. This effect was heightened by leaving the heads of distinguished captives in their natural state, with hair and skin on. As the skulls decayed they fell from the towers or poles, and they were replaced by others, so that no vacant place was left." Concerning the cruelty of the Spaniards, the contrast between the opposing religions must be considered. Ruthless as the conquerors were, there is no possible comparison between the most indifferent principles of the Christian Religion and the application of the awful principles of the Mexican religion. MacNutt, the author of the latest and best life of Cortes, makes this interesting comment on the Christianity of the Spanish adventurers of the time: "Soldier of Spain and soldier of the Cross, for the Cross was the standard of militant Christianity, of which Spain was the truest exponent, his religion, devoutly believed in, but intermittently practised, inspired his ideals, without sufficiently guiding his conduct. Ofttimes brutal, he was never vulgar, while as a lover of sheer daring and of danger for danger's sake, he has never been eclipsed. . . . {129} Sixteenth-century Spain produced a race of Christian warriors whose piety, born of an intense realization of, and love for a militant Christ, was of a martial complexion, beholding in the symbol of salvation--the Cross--the standard of Christendom around which the faithful must rally, and for whose protection and exaltation swords must be drawn and blood spilled if need be. They were the children of the generation which had expelled the Moor from Spain, and had brought centuries of religious and patriotic warfare to a triumphant close, in which their country was finally united under the crown of Castile. From such forebears the generation of Cortes received its heritage of Christian chivalry. The discovery of a new world, peopled by barbarians, opened a fresh field to Spanish missionary zeal, in which the kingdom of God upon earth was to be extended and countless souls rescued from the obscene idolatries and debasing cannibalism which enslaved them." In the Mexican Pantheon, however, there was one good god, named Quetzalcoatl. He was a Toltec deity, and was venerated as the god of the air. He was identified with the east wind which brought the fertilizing rains. Some historians and investigators explain him as purely a mythical personage. He was supposed to have appeared to the Toltecs long before the Aztecs came into the land. He was described in ancient traditions as a tall, white-faced, bearded man, whose dress differed from that of the aborigines and included a long white tunic, upon which were dark red crosses. His teachings enjoined chastity, charity, and penance. He had but one God and preached in the name of that God. He condemned human sacrifice and taught the nation agriculture, metal work and {130} mechanics. He fixed their calendar so that it was much more reliable than either the Greek or the Roman. There were various legends as to his departure, one of them being that he sailed away across the sea upon a raft composed of serpents, and was wafted into the unknown East whence he had come. His color, his dress, his teachings, and his character, are all so symbolic of Christianity, they are so strange, so unique, so utterly without an explanation in anything else known of the Aztecs and Toltecs, that the conclusion that he was a Christian Bishop, wearing a pallium is almost irresistible. Why could not some Christian Bishop, voyaging along the shores of Europe, have been blown far out of his course by a long-continued easterly gale, finally have landed on the shores of Mexico and, having done what he could to teach the people, have built himself some kind of a ship and sailed eastward in the hope of once more revisiting his native land before he died. At any rate, such is the tradition. It was a tradition or legend which played no small part in the conquest about to be effected. IV. The March to Tenochtitlan Into this loosely compact political and social organization, hard-headed, clear-sighted, iron-hearted, steel-clad Cortes precipitated himself. His was a mind at the same time capable of vast and comprehensive designs and a most minute attention to small details. For instance, he laid out the city of Vera Cruz at the place of his landing. He caused his men to elect a full corps of municipal officers from their number. To this organization he frankly resigned his commission and the power that he had by the appointment of {131} Velasquez, which the latter had tried so hard to revoke. They immediately elected him captain-general of the expedition with vastly increased prerogatives and privileges. Thus he could now, in form at least, trace his authority to the crown, as represented by this new colonial municipality and he therefore had behind him the whole power of the expedition! With a skill, which showed not only his adroitness, but his determination, he next caused his men to acquiesce in the scuttling of the ships which had conveyed them to Mexico! After saving the cordage, rigging and everything else that might be useful, which was carefully stored away in the little fort rapidly building, the vessels were destroyed beyond repair. Before this was done, Cortes offered to reserve one ship for certain malcontents and partisans of Velasquez in which they might return if they wished. Nobody took advantage of his offer. By this bold and original stroke, he added to his expeditionary force some one hundred and twenty hardy mariners, who thereafter took part with the soldiery in all the hazards and undertakings. With, therefore, less than six hundred men, sixteen horses, ten small cannon, and one woman, Cortes prepared to undertake the conquest of this mighty empire. It was a small force, but its fighting quality was unsurpassed. Lew Wallace thus characterizes them: "It is hardly worth while to eulogize the Christians who took part in Cortes's crusade. History has assumed their commemoration. I may say, however, they were men who had acquired fitness for the task by service in almost every clime. Some had tilted with the Moor under the walls of Granada; some had {132} fought the Islamite on the blue Danube; some had performed the first Atlantic voyage with Columbus; all of them had hunted the Carib in the glades of Hispaniola. It is not enough to describe them as fortune-hunters, credulous, imaginative, tireless; neither is it enough to write them soldiers, bold, skilful, confident, cruel to enemies, gentle to each other. They were characters of the age in which they lived, unseen before, unseen since; knights errant, who believed in hippogriff and dragon, but sought them only in lands of gold; missionaries, who complacently broke the body of the converted that Christ might the sooner receive his soul; palmers of pike and shield, who, in care of the Virgin, followed the morning round the world, assured that Heaven stooped lowest over the most profitable plantations." Just what Cortes at first proposed to do is not quite clear. Indeed, he himself could not form any definite plan until the circumstances under which he would be compelled to act, should be more precisely ascertained. He was, therefore, an opportunist. For one thing, he made up his mind to lead his troops to the capital city willy-nilly, and there act as circumstances might determine. He was a statesman as well as a soldier. It did not take him long to fathom the peculiarities of the organization and composition of the Aztec Empire. He knew that discord existed and he had only to introduce himself to become a focus for the discontent and rebellion. By giving a secret impression that he was for either side, he could play one party against the other, as best suited his purposes. He came to bring freedom to the one, to promote the revolt of the other, check the oppression of the third, and destroy the presumption of the another {133} tribe, or warring nation. So he caused his purposes to be declared. Cortes's personal character was not by any means above reproach, yet withal he was a sincere and devoted Christian, strange and inexplicable as the paradox may seem, but it was an age of devoted Christians, whose devotion and principles fortunately were not translated into daily life. Neither Cortes nor any of his followers--perhaps not even the priests were of different opinion--thought any less of themselves or regarded themselves the less worthy Christians: if their conduct toward the native races did not manifest that continence, restraint and sympathy which their religion taught. Cortes was a child of his age; the other great men of his age were much like him in these things. Here and there a Las Casas appears, but he shines forth against a dark and universally extensive background. Such as the great apostles to the Indies were lonely exceptions indeed. All the Spanish conquerors were cruel; but Cortes was not so cruel as many others. He was not to be compared to the ruthless Pizarro for instance. Save in daring and personal courage, he vastly surpassed the Lord of Peru in every quality which goes to make a man. Cortes was treacherous in his dealings with Montezuma and others, but the man of his age regarded very lightly the obligation of his word toward a savage. Indeed, it was a well-known principle that no faith was necessarily to be kept with either heretics or heathen and no oath was binding against the interests of the state. Cortes, of course, had all the contempt for the Aztecs that Caucasians usually have for inferior races, although in his letters, he tried his very best to be fair, to be just, even to be generous to these {134} people he overcame; and no one can doubt the sincerity with which he desired to promote the spreading of the Christian religion. They did things differently in those days. Not only did they believe that the religion of the heathen should be changed by force, but they believed that in some way they could constrain all people to accept Christianity. More blood has been shed in promoting the idea that the outsider should be compelled to come into the fold than from the misinterpretation of any other text in the sacred scriptures. If any civilized power in the world to-day should send an expeditionary force into a heathen country, which should signalize its arrival therein by the desecration of its temples and the destruction of its idols, the commander would be recalled at once. We have learned other methods, methods of persuasion, of reason, of love. The age of Cortes knew nothing of these methods, and he was only following out the common practice when he smashed with his battle-axe the hideous gods of the Mexicans, and washed and purified with clean water, the reeking, gory, ill-smelling slaughter-houses which were the Aztec Holy of Holies, and adorned them with crosses and images of the Blessed Virgin Mary. When Charles the IX. offered Henry of Navarre a choice of death, mass, or the Bastille on the night of Saint Bartholomew, he gave him one more chance than the early steel-clad militant missionary gave to the aborigines of the new world--for them there was no Bastille. Making friends with the Tabascans, and leaving one hundred and fifty men to guard his base of supplies at Vera Cruz and to watch the coast, Cortes began his march toward Mexico on the sixteenth day of August, 1519. He proceeded with the greatest caution. Bernal {135} Diaz, an old soldier, who afterward wrote a most vivid and graphic account of the conquest, of which he was no small part, says that they marched forward "with their beards on their shoulders," that is, looking from side to side, constantly. There was no hurry and there was no need to tire out the force which was thus facing the danger of a long, hard and rash adventure. By the aid of Marina and Aguilar, Cortes speedily learned of places like Cempoalla, which were hostile to Montezuma and he took in as many of these places on his march as possible, always with incidents instructive and valuable. At Cempoalla, for instance, he met the tax-gatherers of Montezuma. He persuaded the Cempoallans to refuse payment of the tax--an action which would ordinarily have brought down upon them the fury of the Aztec monarch and would have resulted in their complete and utter extermination. He did more. He caused the Cacique of Cempoalla--a man so fat and gross, that, like "the little round belly" of Santa Claus, he "shook like a jelly" so that the Spaniards called him "The Trembler"--actually to raise his hand against the tax-gatherers and imprison them. They would undoubtedly have been sacrificed and eaten had not Cortes, secretly and by night released three of them and allowed them to go back to their royal master, after he had sent two into a safe ward at Vera Cruz. Montezuma's messengers met him at every town. "Bearing rich gifts, they disclosed the possibilities of the _Hinterland_ and germinated in the brain of Cortes the idea of conquest. One revelation was confirmed by another, and, as the evidence of Aztec wealth multiplied the proofs of internal disaffection throughout the {136} empire stimulated the confidence of the brooding conqueror. Disloyalty among the Totonacs, treachery that only waited an opportunity in Texcoco, an ancient tradition of hate in Tlascala, and the superstition that obscured the judgment and paralyzed the action of the despotic ruler--these were the materials from which the astute invader evolved the machinery for his conquest." Montezuma was in a pitiable state of superstitious indecision. It was popularly believed that Quetzalcoatl would some day return, and it was more than probable to the Aztec monarch and his counsellors that he might be reincarnated in the person of Cortes and his followers. Indeed, the common name for them among the Mexicans was Teules, which means gods. If Cortes was a god it was useless to fight against him. If he and his were men, they could of course be easily exterminated, but were they men? There were a few bold spirits who inclined to this belief, but not many. Besides, whatever the rest might be, the horsemen must be of divine origin. Cuitlahua, the brother of Montezuma, and one of the highest and most important of the Aztec rulers was for attacking them whatever the consequences, but he was alone in advising this. It was thought better to temporize. Perhaps later on it might be decided whether these strange beings were of common clay, and there would be plenty of time to exterminate them then. Montezuma was therefore an opportunist, like Cortes, but there was a vast difference between them. Montezuma was a man of great ability, undoubtedly, or he never could have been chosen by the hereditary electors to the position he occupied, and he could never have held it if he had not been. He was a man over {137} fifty years of age, and had maintained himself on the throne, in spite of many wars, in which he had been almost universally victorious. His judgment and his decision alike were paralyzed by superstition. He did the unwisest thing he could possibly have done. He sent messengers to Cortes, bearing rich gifts, gold, feather work, green stones, which the Spaniards thought were emeralds, vast treasures. He acknowledged in effect the wonderful wisdom of Cortes's overlord, the great emperor, Charles V., in whose name Cortes did everything, taking care always to have a notary to attest his proclamations to the Indians, but he told Cortes not to come to Mexico City. He said that he was poor, that the journey was a long and hard one; in short, he offered him every inducement to come with one hand, while he waved him back with the other. Treasure was the only motive of the conquerors of Peru. Cortes was big enough and great enough to rise above that. He was after larger things than the mere filling of his purse, and on several occasions he relinquished his own share of the booty to the soldiery. He was an empire-builder, not a treasure-hunter. As Cortes progressed through the country, the treasure sent by Montezuma grew in value, and the prohibitions, which by and by amounted to entreaties, increased in volume. We wonder what might have happened, if young Guatemoc, whom we shall hear of later had occupied the throne. Certainly, although the Spaniards would have died fighting, they would undoubtedly have been overwhelmed, and the conquest of Mexico might have been postponed for another generation or two. It was bound to happen anyway, sooner or later, as far as that goes. {138} V. The Republic of Tlascala Cortes's progress finally brought him to a remarkable tribe, whose friendship he succeeded in winning, and which must be added as the fourth factor, with himself, Marina, and the horses, as the cause of the downfall of Mexico. Curiously enough, this tribe had a sort of republican form of government. It is usually referred to as the Republic of Tlascala. It was an independent confederation composed of four separate states. The government consisted of a senate, composed of the rulers of the four states or clans of the tribe. Tlascala was completely hemmed in by provinces of the Aztec Empire, with which it was always in a state of constant and bitter warfare. The inhabitants had no access to the sea, consequently they had never enjoyed the use of salt. They had no access to the lowlands, so they were without cotton, a fabric then universally used throughout the country. They had no trade or commerce. They were completely shut in and eternal vigilance was the price of their liberty. They lacked the arts, the grace, and the refinement of the Mexicans, but they were as hardy, as bold, as skilful in the use of arms, and as determined, as well as cruel, as the Aztecs. Neither Montezuma nor his predecessors with the power of millions had been able to make them acknowledge any sovereignty but their own. They were protected by the mountain ranges and here and there they had built high walls across the valley. Tlascala was a large and imposing city. Cortes thus describes it: "This city is so extensive and so well worthy of admiration, that although I omit much that I could {139} say of it, I feel assured that the little I shall say will be scarcely credited, for it is larger than Granada, and much stronger, and contains as many fine houses and a much larger population than that city did at the time of its capture; and it is much better supplied with the products of the earth, such as corn, and with fowls and game, fish from the rivers, various kinds of vegetables, and other exellent articles of food. There is in this city a market, in which every day thirty thousand people are engaged in buying and selling, besides many other merchants who are scattered about the city. The market contains a great variety of articles both of food and clothing, and all kinds of shoes for the feet; jewels of gold and silver, and precious stones, and ornaments of feathers, all as well arranged as they can possibly be found in any public squares or markets in the world. There is much earthenware of every style and a good quality, equal to the best Spanish manufacture. Wood, coal, edible and medicinal plants, are sold in great quantities. There are houses where they wash and shave the head as barbers, and also for baths. Finally, there is found among them a well-regulated police; the people are rational and well disposed, and altogether greatly superior to the most civilized African nations. The country abounds in level and beautiful valleys all tilled and sown, without any part lying unimproved. In its constitution of government that has existed until the present time, it resembles the states of Venice, Genoa and Pisa; since the supreme authority is not reposed in one person. There are many nobles, all of whom reside in the city; the common people are laborers and the vassals of the nobility, but each one possesses land of his own, some more than others. In war all unite and have a voice in its management {140} and direction. It may be supposed that they have tribunals of justice for the punishment of the guilty; since when one of the natives of the province stole some gold of a Spaniard, and I mentioned the circumstance to Magiscacin, the most powerful of the nobility, they made search for the thief, and traced him to a city in the neighborhood called Churultecal (Cholula) from whence they brought him prisoner, and delivered him to me with the gold, saying that I must have him punished. I acknowledged in suitable terms the pains they had taken in the matter, but remarked to them that since the prisoner was in their country, they should punish him according to their custom, and that I chose not to interfere with the punishment of their people while I remained among them. They thanked me and, taking the man, carried him to the great market, a town crier making public proclamations of his offense; they then placed him at the base of a structure resembling a theatre, which stands in the midst of the market-place, while the crier went to the top of the building, and with a loud voice again proclaimed his offense; whereupon the people beat him with sticks until he was dead. We likewise saw many persons in prison who were said to be confined for theft and other offenses they had committed. There are in this province, according to the report made by my order, five hundred thousand inhabitants, besides those in another smaller province adjacent to this, called Guazincango, who live in the manner, not subject to any native sovereign and are not less the vassals of Your Highness than the people of Tlascala." Montezuma gave another reason for permitting the Tlascalans their liberty and independence. He said that he was allowing them to maintain their existence {141} and remain a republic because everything else in the vicinity had been conquered; and as there was no field for the young warriors of the Aztec nation to obtain that military training which it was always best to learn by actual experience, he kept Tlascala in a state of enmity because it furnished him a place where he could get the human beings for sacrifices to his gods that he required and at the same time train his young soldiery. In other words, Tlascala was regarded as a sort of game preserve from a religious point of view. Doubtless, Tlascala did not acknowledge the justice, the propriety and the correctness of this attitude of scorn and contempt on the part of the Aztecs. The other tribes of Mexico bore the yoke uneasily, and cherished resentment, but even the enmity between the Jews and the Samaritans was not more bitter than the enmity between the Tlascalans and the people of the city of Anahuac. When Cortes drew near Tlascala, the senate debated what course it should pursue toward him. One of the four regents, so called, of the republic was a man of great age, feeble and blind, but resolute of spirit. His name was Xicotencatl. He was all for war. He was opposed by a young man named Maxixcatzin. The debate between the two and the other participants was long and furious. Finally the desire of Xicotencatl prevailed in a modified form. There was a tribe occupying part of the Tlascalan territory and under Tlascalan rule called Otumies. It was decided to cause the Otumies to attack Cortes and his force. If Cortes was annihilated, the problem would be solved. If the Otumies were defeated their action would be disavowed by the Tlascalans and no harm would be done to anybody but the unfortunate {142} Otumies, for whom no one in Tlascala felt any great concern. The Otumies were placed in the front of the battle, but the Tlascalans themselves followed under the command of another Xicotencatl, son of the old regent, who was a tried and brilliant soldier. The battles along the coast had been more like massacres, but this was a real fight, and a number of Spaniards were killed, three horses also, more valuable than the men, were despatched, and at the close of the engagement the Spaniards had lost about fifty, a serious diminution of the forces of Cortes, but the unfortunate Otumies and the Tlascalans were overwhelmed with a fearful slaughter. Of course, the action of the Otumies was disavowed, Cortes was invited into Tlascala and an alliance between the Spaniards and the republic was consummated. The Tlascalans threw themselves, heart and soul, into the project, which they dimly perceived was in the mind of Cortes, the conquest of Mexico. Nothing was said about all of this. Cortes simply declared his design to pay a friendly visit to Montezuma to whom he sent repeated and solemn assurances that he intended him no harm, that Montezuma could receive him with the utmost frankness and without fear and without anticipating any violence whatever on the part of the Spaniards. But the wise in Tlascala knew that a collision between the Spaniards and the Aztecs would be inevitable. They saw a chance to feed fat their ancient grudge, and to exact bitter revenge for all that they had suffered at the hands of the Aztecs. To anticipate, they were faithful to the alliance and loyally carried out their part of the agreement in the resulting campaigns. Without them on several {143} occasions Cortes' fortunes would have been even more desperate than they were. Montezuma's envoys, heartily detesting the Tlascalans, sought to persuade Cortes against any dealings with them whatsoever. They gave a very bad character to the dusky allies of the Spaniards and the Tlascalans returned the compliment in kind. When his wounded had recovered, accompanied by a large army of Tlascalans under young Xicotencatl, Cortes set forth about the middle of October on the last stage of his wonderful journey. By this time, Montezuma had concluded to make a virtue out of a necessity, and he had sent word to him that he would welcome him to his capital. He received return reiterations of the statement that Cortes' intentions were entirely pacific, that he represented the greatest monarch in the world who lived beyond the seas, and all that he would require of Montezuma was the acknowledgment of his dependence in common with every earthly monarch upon this mysterious potentate across the ocean. This Montezuma was quite willing to give. He was also willing to pay any tribute exacted if only these children of the Sun would go away, and he could be left to the undisturbed enjoyment of his kingdom. He suggested a way for Cortes to approach the capital. The Tlascalans did some scouting and informed Cortes that the way was filled with pitfalls, blocked with stones, and the opportunities for ambuscade were many and good. No one can blame Montezuma for taking these precautions, although he afterwards disowned any participation in them and said that the arrangements had been made by some irresponsible subjects, and Cortes passed it over. The Tlascalans, who knew all the passes of the {144} mountains, offered to lead Cortes and his followers by another way. Although he was warned not to trust them by the envoys of Montezuma, Cortes with that judgment of men which so distinguished him, elected the harder and shorter way across the mountains. Nature had made the pass a difficult one, but the indomitable Spaniards struggled over it, enduring terrible fatigue and periods of piercing cold. They got far above the timber line and approached the boundaries of eternal snow. It is characteristic of them, that on one point of their journey, they stopped and despatched a party under Ordaz to scale and explore the smoking volcano Popocatepetl, which with Ixtaccihuatl guarded the beautiful valley of Mexico. Ordaz and his twelve companions followed the guides as far as they would lead them and then they climbed far up the sides. They were unable to reach the top, but they accomplished a prodigious ascent, and Ordaz was afterwards allowed to add to his coat of arms a flaming volcano. The summit of the mountain was at last passed, and the magnificent valley of Mexico opened to their view. It was a scene which caused even the hearts of these rugged and hardened adventurers to thrill with pleasure and satisfaction. No fairer land had ever burst upon human vision. The emerald verdure was broken by beautiful lakes, bordered by luxuriant vegetation, diversified by mountains and plateaus, while here and there magnificent cities glistened in the brilliant tropical sun among the sparkling waters. As far as one could see the land was under cultivation. The descent of the mountains was easy, comparatively speaking, and the Spaniards, after some journeying, {145} found themselves in the populous and wealthy city of Cholula, remarkable for the splendid pyramid temple--Teocalli--which rose in the centre of its encircling walls. Here a plan was devolved to massacre the whole force which had been quartered in one of the vast palaces or houses of the town. The women and the children left the city in large numbers, a vast body of Mexican soldiers was secretly assembled near by. The provisions, which had always been supplied them generously, were suddenly withdrawn. The suspicions of the Spaniards were of course awakened and extra good watch was kept. They did not know what to suspect, until a Cholulan woman, who had formed an acquaintance with Marina, told her of the purpose of the Mexicans, and advised her to flee from the Spanish camp if she valued her life. The faithful Marina immediately disclosed the whole plan to Cortes. He acted with remarkable celerity and decision. There were many Cholulan lords and attendants about the Spanish camp and there were many others in town, evidently to lull any suspicions which the Spaniards might feel and to make whatever excuse they could for the lack of provisions. On one pretense or another, Cortes summoned the whole body to his house, which was a great rambling structure of many rooms and thick walls and enclosures. He got them assembled in one room and then proceeded to slaughter most of them, reserving only a few for use after the event had been determined. While this butchering was going on he sent others of his troops into the streets and squares of the town, where they killed without hesitation and without mercy all with whom they came in contact, including several bodies of soldiers who {146} were more or less helpless without their leaders, whom Cortes had so craftily disposed of. This was the celebrated massacre of Cholula. Whether it was justifiable or not, each reader must settle for himself. Cortes' situation then was certainly desperate; for that matter, it was desperate at all times. His life and the lives of his comrades hung upon a thread. He certainly had a right to protect himself. Personally, I do not think such a slaughter was necessary for his protection. However, Cortes thought so, and he was there. It was his life that was concerned, and not mine. Other monarchs in more civilized days have done practically the same as this, as for instance, the famous Barmecide feast, the wholesale assassination of the Abencerrages in Spain, the massacre of the Mamelukes by Napoleon in Egypt, and many others. To be sure these massacres did not include the helpless inhabitants of the towns. However, with his usual policy, Cortes spared some of the Cholulan lords and when he had shown his power over them, he released them and told them to summon back the people who had left the city. He had no more trouble with the Cholulans after that victory, and he presently took up his journey toward Mexico. Now, the City of Mexico to the Spaniards was one of the wonders of the world. They have described it in such terms as show the impression it made upon them, but they have not described it in such terms as to enable us to understand from their stories exactly what the city was. It was described as an island city. Some believed it to have been an enormous Pueblo city, such as may be seen in Arizona or New Mexico, surrounded by thousands of squalid huts. {147} Others conjectured it as a city as beautiful as Venice, as great as Babylon, and as wonderful as hundred-gated Thebes. Cortes shall tell himself the impression it made upon him in the next section which is lifted bodily from one of his famous letters to the emperor Charles V. VI. Cortes' Description of Mexico, written by his own hand to Charles V., Emperor of Germany and King of Spain In order, most potent Sire, to convey to your Majesty a just conception of the great extent of this noble city of Temixtitan, and of the many rare and wonderful objects it contains; of the government and dominions of Muteczuma, the sovereign; of the religious rites and customs that prevail, and the order that exists in this as well as other cities, appertaining to his realm; it would require the labor of many accomplished writers, and much time for the completion of the task. I shall not be able to relate an hundredth part of what could be told respecting these matters; but I will endeavor to describe, in the best manner in my power, what I have myself seen; and, imperfectly as I may succeed in that attempt, I am fully aware that the account will appear so wonderful as to be deemed scarcely worthy of credit; since even we who have seen these things with our own eyes, are yet so amazed as to be unable to comprehend their reality. But your Majesty may be assured that if there is any fault in my relation, either in regard to the present subject, or to any other matters of which I shall give your Majesty an account, it will arise from too great brevity rather than extravagance or prolixity in the details; and it seems to me {148} but just to my Prince and Sovereign to declare the truth in the clearest manner, without saying anything that would detract from it, or add to it. Before I begin to describe this great city and the others already mentioned, it may be well for the better understanding of the subject to say something of the configuration of Mexico,[1] in which they are situated, it being the principal seat of Muteczuma's power. This province is in the form of a circle, surrounded on all sides by lofty and rugged mountains; its level surface comprises an area of about seventy leagues in circumference, including two lakes, that overspread nearly the whole valley, being navigated by boats more than fifty leagues round. One of these lakes contains fresh, and the other, which is the larger of the two, salt water. On one side of the lakes, in the middle of the valley, a range of highlands divides them from one another, with the exception of a narrow strait which lies between the highlands and the lofty sierras. This strait is a bow-shot wide, and connects the two lakes; and by this means a trade is carried on by the cities and other settlement on the lakes in canoes, without the necessity of traveling by land. As the salt lake rises and falls with the tides like the sea, during the time of high water it pours into the other lake with the rapidity of a powerful stream; and on the other hand, when the tide has ebbed, the water runs from the fresh into the salt lake. This great city of Temixtitan (Mexico) is situated in this salt lake, and from the main land to the denser parts of it, by which ever route one choses to enter, {149} the distance is two leagues. There are four avenues or entrances to the city, all of which are formed by artificial causeways, two spears' length in width. The city is as large as Seville or Cordova; its streets, I speak of principal ones, are very wide and straight; some of these, and all the inferior ones, are half land and half water, and are navigated by canoes. All the streets at intervals have openings, through which the water flows, crossing from one street to another; and at these openings, some of which are very wide, there are also very wide bridges, composed of large pieces of lumber, of great strength and well put together; on many of these bridges ten horses can go abreast. Foreseeing that if the inhabitants of this city should prove treacherous, they would possess great advantages from the manner in which the city is constructed, since by removing the bridges at the entrances and abandoning the place, they could leave us to perish by famine without our being able to reach the mainland--as soon as I had entered it, I made great haste to build four brigantines, which were soon finished, and were large enough to take ashore three hundred men and the horses, whenever it became necessary. This city has many public squares, in which are situated the markets and other places for buying and selling. There is one square twice as large as that of the city of Salamanca, surrounded by porticoes, where are daily assembled more than sixty thousand souls, engaged in buying and selling; and where are found all kinds of merchandise that the world affords, embracing the necessities of life, as, for instance, articles of food, as well as jewels of gold, silver, lead, brass, copper, tin, precious stones, bones, shells, snails and feathers. There were also exposed for sale wrought and unwrought {150} stone, bricks burnt and unburnt, timber hewn and unhewn of different sorts. There is a street for game, where every variety of birds found in the country is sold, as fowls, partridges, quails, wild ducks, fly-catchers, widgeons, turtle-doves, pigeons, reedbirds, parrots, sparrows, eagles, hawks, owls, and kestrels; they sell, likewise, the skins of some birds of prey, with their feathers, head and beak and claws. There they also sold rabbits, hares, deer, and little dogs which are raised for eating and castrated. There is also an herb street, where may be obtained all sorts of roots and medicinal herbs that the country affords. There are apothecaries' shops, where prepared medicines, liquids, ointments, and plasters are sold; barber shops where they wash and shave the head; and restauranteurs that furnish food and drink at a certain price. There is also a class of men like those called in Castile porters, for carrying burdens. Wood and coal are seen in abundance, and brasiers of earthenware for burning coals; mats of various kinds for beds, others of a lighter sort for seats, and for halls and bedrooms. There are all kinds of green vegetables, especially onions, leeks, garlic, watercresses, nasturtium, borage, sorel, artichokes, and golden thistle-fruits also of numerous descriptions, amongst which are cherries and plums, similar to those in Spain; honey and wax from bees, and from the stalks of maize, which are as sweet as the sugar-cane; honey is also extracted from the plant called maguey,[2] which is superior to sweet or new wine; from the same plant they extract sugar and wine, which they also sell. Different kinds of cotton thread {151} of all colors in skeins are exposed for sale in one quarter of the market, which has the appearance of the silk market at Granada, although the former is supplied more abundantly. Painter's colors, as numerous as can be found in Spain, and as fine shades; deer-skins dressed and undressed, dyed different colors; earthenware of a large size and excellent quality; large and small jars, jugs, pots, bricks, and an endless variety of vessels, all made of fine clay, and all or most of them glazed and painted; maize or Indian corn, in the grain, and in the form of bread, preferred in the grain for its flavor to that of the other islands and terra firma; pâtés of birds and fish; great quantities of fish, fresh, salt, cooked and uncooked; the eggs of hens, geese and of all the other birds I have mentioned, in great abundance, and cakes made of eggs; finally, everything that can be found throughout the whole country is sold in the markets, comprising articles so numerous that, to avoid prolixity and because their names are not retained in my memory, or are unknown to me, I shall not attempt to enumerate them. Every kind of merchandise is sold in a particular street or quarter assigned to it exclusively, and thus the best order is preserved. They sell everything by number or measure; at least, so far we have not observed them to sell anything by weight. There is a building in the great square that is used as an audience house, where ten or twelve persons, who are magistrates, sit and decide all controversies that arise in the market, and order delinquents to be punished. In the same square there are other persons who go constantly about among the people observing what is sold, and the measures used in selling; and they have been seen to break measures that were not true. {152} This great city contains a large number of temples[3] or houses for their idols, very handsome edifices, which are situated in the different districts and the suburbs; in the principal ones religious persons of each particular sect are constantly residing, for whose use, beside the houses containing the idols, there are other convenient habitations. All these persons dress in black and never cut or comb their hair from the time they enter the priesthood until they leave it; and all the sons of the principal inhabitants, both nobles and respectable citizens, are placed in the temples and wear the same dress from the age of seven or eight years until they are taken out to be married; which occurs more frequently with the firstborn, who inherits estates, than with the others. The priests are debarred from female society, nor is any woman permitted to enter the religious houses. They also abstain from eating certain kinds of food, more at some seasons of the year than others. Among these temples there is one which far surpasses all the rest, whose grandeur of architectural details no human tongue is able to describe; for within its precincts, surrounded by a lofty wall, there is room for a town of five hundred families. Around the interior of this enclosure there are handsome edifices, containing large halls and corridors, in which the religious persons attached to the temple reside. There are full forty towers, which are lofty and well built, the largest of which has fifty steps leading to its main body, and is higher than the tower of the principal church at Seville. The stone and wood of which they are constructed are so well wrought {153} in every part, that nothing could be better done, for the interior of the chapels containing the idols consists of curious imagery, wrought in stone, with plaster ceilings, and woodwork carved in relief, and painted with figures of monsters and other objects. All these towers are the burial places of the nobles, and every chapel of them is dedicated to a particular idol, to which they pay their devotions. There are three halls in this grand temple, which contain the principal idols; these are of wonderful extent and height, and admirable workmanship, adorned with figures sculptured in stone and wood; leading from the halls are chapels with very small doors, to which the light is not admitted, nor are any persons except the priests, and not all of them. In these chapels are the images or idols, although, as I have before said, many of them are also found on the outside; the principal ones, in which the people have greatest faith and confidence, I precipitated from their pedestals, and cast them down the steps of the temple, purifying the chapels in which they stood, as they were all polluted with human blood, shed in the sacrifices. In the place of these I put images of Our Lady and the Saints, which excited not a little feeling in Muteczuma and the inhabitants, who at first remonstrated, declaring that if my proceedings were known throughout the country, the people would rise against me; for they believed that their idols bestowed upon them all temporal good, and if they permitted them to be ill-treated, they would be angry and withhold their gifts, and by this means the people would be deprived of the fruits of the earth and die of famine. I answered, through the interpreters, that they were deceived in expecting any favors from idols, the work of their own {154} hands, formed of unclean things; and that they must learn there was but one God, the universal Lord of all, who had created the heavens and the earth, and all things else, and had made them and us; that He was without beginning and immortal, and that they were bound to adore and believe Him, and no other creature or thing. I said everything to them I could to divert them from their idolatries, and draw them to a knowledge of God our Lord. Muteczuma replied, the others assenting to what he said: "That they had already informed me that they were not the aborigines of the country, but that their ancestors had emigrated to it many years ago; and they fully believed, after so long an absence from their native land, they might have fallen into some errors; that I, having been recently arrived, must know better than themselves what they ought to believe; and that if I would instruct them in these matters, and make them understand the true faith, they would follow my directions, as being for the best." Afterward Muteczuma and many of the principal citizens remained with me until I had removed the idols, purified the chapels, and placed images in them, manifesting apparent pleasure; and I forbade them sacrificing human beings to their idols, as they had been accustomed to do; because, besides being abhorrent in the sight of God, your sacred Majesty had prohibited it by law and commanded to put to death whoever should take the life of another. Thus, from that time, they refrained from the practice, and during the whole period of my abode in that city, they were never seen to kill or sacrifice a human being. The figures of the idols in which these people believe surpass in stature a person of more than the ordinary {155} size; some of them are composed of a mass of seeds and leguminous plants, such as are used for food, ground and mixed together, and kneaded with the blood of human hearts taken from the breasts of living persons, from which a paste is formed in a sufficient quantity to form large statues. When these are completed they make them offerings of the hearts of other victims, which they sacrifice to them, and besmear their faces with the blood. For everything they have an idol, consecrated by the use of the nations that in ancient times honored the same gods. Thus they have an idol that they petition for victory in war; another for success in their labors; and so for everything in which they seek or desire prosperity, they have their idols, which they honor and serve. This noble city contains many fine and magnificent houses; which may be accounted for from the fact that all the nobility of the country, who are the vassals of Muteczuma, have houses in the city, in which they reside a certain part of the year; and besides, there are numerous wealthy citizens who also possess fine houses. All these persons, in addition to the large and spacious apartments for ordinary purposes, have others, both upper and lower, that contain conservatories of flowers. Along one of the causeways that lead into the city are laid two pipes, constructed of masonry, each of which is two paces in width, and about five feet in height. An abundant supply of excellent water, forming a volume equal in bulk to the human body, is conveyed by one of these pipes, and distributed about the city, where it is used by the inhabitants for drinking and other purposes. The other pipe, in the meantime, is kept empty until the former requires to be cleansed, when the water is let into it; and continues to be used {156} until the cleansing is finished. As the water is necessarily carried over bridges on account of the salt water crossing its route, reservoirs resembling canals are constructed on the bridges, through which the fresh water is conveyed. These reservoirs are of the breadth of the body of an ox, and of the same length as the bridges. The whole city is thus served with water, which they carry in canoes through all the streets for sale, taking it from the aqueduct in the following manner: the canoes pass under the bridges on which the reservoirs are placed, when men stationed above fill them with water, for which service they are paid. At all the entrances of the city, and in those parts where the canoes are discharged, that is, where the greatest quantity of provisions is brought in, huts are erected and persons stationed as guards, who receive a _certum quid_ for everything that enters. I know not whether the sovereign receives this duty or the city, as I have not yet been informed; but I believe that it appertains to the sovereign, as in the markets of other provinces a tax is collected for the benefit of their cacique. In all the markets and public places of this city are seen daily many laborers and persons of various employments waiting for some one to hire them. The inhabitants of this city pay a greater regard to style in their mode of living, and are more attentive to elegance of dress and politeness of manners, than those of the other provinces and cities; since as the Cacique[4] Muteczuma has his residence in the capital, and all {157} the nobility, his vassals, are in the constant habit of meeting there, a general courtesy of demeanour necessarily prevails. But not to be prolix in describing what relates to the affairs of this great city, although it is with difficulty that I refrain from proceeding. I will say no more than that the manners of the people, as shown in their intercourse with one another, are marked by as great an attention to the proprieties of life as in Spain, and good order is equally well observed; and considering that they are a barbarous people, without the knowledge of God, having no intercourse with civilized nations, these traits of character are worthy of admiration. In regard to the domestic appointments of Muteczuma, and the wonderful grandeur and state he maintains, there is so much to be told, that I assure your Majesty I do not know where to begin my relation, so as to be able to finish any part of it. For, as I have already stated, what can be more wonderful, than that a barbarous monarch, as he is, should have every object found in his dominions, imitated in gold, silver, precious stones and feathers?--the gold and silver being wrought so naturally as not to be surpassed by any smith in the world; the stone work executed with such perfection that is it difficult to conceive what instruments could have been used; and the feather work superior to the finest productions in wax and embroidery. The extent of Muteczuma's dominions has not been ascertained, since to whatever point he despatched his messengers, even two hundred leagues from his capital, his commands were obeyed, although some of his provinces were in the midst of countries with which he was at war. But as nearly as I have been able to learn, his territories are equal in extent {158} to Spain itself, for he sent messengers to the inhabitants of a city called Cumatan (requiring them to become subjects of Your Majesty), which is sixty leagues beyond that part of Putunchan watered by the river Grijalva, and two hundred and thirty leagues distant from the great city; and I sent some of our people a distance of one hundred and fifty leagues in the same direction. All the principal chiefs of these provinces, especially those in the vicinity of the capital, reside, as I have already stated, the greater part of the year in that great city, and all or most of them have their oldest sons in the service of Muteczuma. There are fortified places in all the provinces, garrisoned with his own men, where are also stationed his governors and collectors of the rent and tribute, rendered him by every province; and an account is kept of what each is obliged to pay, as they have characters and figures made on paper that are used for this purpose. Each province renders a tribute of its own particular productions, so that the sovereign receives a great variety of articles from different quarters. No prince was ever more feared by his subjects, both in his presence and absence. He possessed out of the city as well as within, numerous villas, each of which had its peculiar sources of amusement, and all were constructed in the best possible manner for the use of a great prince and lord. Within the city his palaces were so wonderful that it is hardly possible to describe their beauty and extent; I can only say that in Spain there is nothing to equal them. There was one palace somewhat inferior to the rest, attached to which was a beautiful garden with balconies extending over it, supported by marble columns, and having a floor formed of jasper elegantly {159} laid. There were apartments in this palace sufficient to lodge two princes of the highest rank with their retinues. There were likewise belonging to it ten pools of water, in which were kept the different species of water birds found in this country, of which there is a great variety, all of which are domesticated; for the sea birds there were pools of salt water, and for the river birds, of fresh water. The water is let off at certain times to keep it pure, and is replenished by means of pipes. Each species of bird is supplied with the food natural to it, which it feeds upon when wild. Thus fish is given to birds that usually eat it; worms, maize and the finer seeds, to such as prefer them. And I assure Your Highness, that to the birds accustomed to eat fish, there is given the enormous quantity of ten arrobas[5] every day, taken in the salt lake. The emperor has three hundred men whose sole employment is to take care of these birds; and there are others whose only business is to attend to the birds that are in bad health. Over the pools for the birds there are corridors and galleries to which Muteczuma resorts, and from which he can look out and amuse himself with the sight of them. There is an apartment in the same palace, in which are men, women, and children, whose faces, bodies, hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes are white from birth. The cacique has another very beautiful palace, with a large courtyard, paved with handsome flags, in the style of a chess-board. There were also cages, about nine feet in height and six paces square, each of which was half covered with a roof of tiles, and the other half had over it a wooden grate, skilfully made. Every cage contains a bird of prey, of all the species {160} found in Spain, from the kestrel to the eagle, and many unknown there. There were a great number of each kind, and in the covered part of the cages there was a perch, and another on the outside of the grating, the former of which the birds used in the night-time, and when it rained; and the other enabled them to enjoy the sun and air. To all these birds fowl were daily given for food, and nothing else. There were in the same palace several large halls on the ground floor, filled with immense cages built of heavy pieces of timber, well put together, in all or most of which were kept lions, tigers, wolves, foxes and a variety of animals of the cat tribe, in great numbers, which were also fed on fowls. The care of these animals and birds was assigned to three hundred men. There was another palace that contained a number of men and women of monstrous size, and also dwarfs, and crooked and ill-formed persons, each of which had their separate apartments. These also had their respective keepers. As to the other remarkable things that the ruler had in his city for amusement, I can only say that they were numerous and of various kinds. He was served in the following manner. Every day as soon as it was light, six hundred nobles and men of rank were in attendance at the palace, who either sat or walked about the halls and galleries, and passed their time in conversation, but without entering the apartment where his person was. The servants and attendants of these nobles remained in the courtyards, of which there were two or three of great extent, and in the adjoining street, which was also spacious. They all remained in attendance from morning until night; and when his meals were served, the nobles were likewise served with equal profusion, and their {161} servants and secretaries also had their allowance. Daily his larder and wine-cellar were open to all who wished to eat and drink. The meals were served by three or four hundred youths, who brought on an infinite variety of dishes; indeed, whenever he dined or supped the table was loaded with every kind of flesh, fish, fruit, and vegetables that the country provided. As the climate is cold, they put a chafing-dish with live coals under every plate and dish to keep them warm. The meals were served in a large hall where Muteczuma was accustomed to eat, and the dishes quite filled the room, which was covered with mats and kept very clean. He sat on small cushions curiously wrought in leather. During the meals there were present, at a little distance from him, five or six elderly caciques, to whom he presented some of the food. And there was constantly in attendance one of the servants, who arranged and handed the dishes, and who received from others whatever was wanted for the supply of the table. Both at the beginning and end of every meal, they furnished water for the hands, and the napkins used on these occasions were never used a second time; this was the case also with the plates and dishes, which were not brought again, but new ones in place of them; it was also the same with the chafing-dishes. He is also dressed every day in four different suits, entirely new, which he never wears a second time. None of the caciques ever enter his palace with their feet covered, and when those for whom he sends enter his presence, they incline their heads and look down, bending their bodies; and when they address him they do not look in his face; this arises from excessive modesty and reverence. Whenever Muteczuma appeared in public, which was seldom the case, all those who {162} accompanied him or whom he accidentally met in the streets, turned away without looking toward him, and others prostrated themselves until he passed. One of the nobles always preceded him on these occasions, carrying three slender rods erect, which I suppose was to give notice of the approach of his person. And when they descended from the litters, he took one of them in his hands, and held it until he reached the places where he was going. So many and various were the ceremonies and customs observed by those in the service of Muteczuma, that more space than I can spare would be required for the details, as well as a better memory than I have to recollect them; since no sultan or other infidel lord, of whom any knowledge now exists, ever had so much ceremonial in their courts. VII. The Meeting with Montezuma It was early in the morning of November the 8th, 1519, when Cortes, at the head of his little army, rode over one of the long causeways and into the city to his first meeting with Montezuma. As no one can tell better than he what happened, I here insert his own account of the episode: "The next day after my arrival at this city, I departed on my route, and having proceeded half a league, I entered upon a causeway that extends two leagues through the centre of the salt lake, until it reaches the great city of Temixtitan (Mexico), which is built in the middle of the lake. . . . "I pursued my course over the above-mentioned causeway, and having proceeded half a league before arriving at the body of the city of Temixtitan, I found {163} at its intersection with another causeway, which extends from this point to terra firma, a very strong fortress with two towers, surrounded by a double wall, twelve feet in height, with an embattled parapet, which commands the two causeways, and has only two gates, one for the entering and the other for departure. There came to meet me at this place nearly a thousand of the principal inhabitants of the great city, all uniformly dressed according to their custom in very rich costumes; and as soon as they had come within speaking distance, each one, as he approached me, performed a salutation in much use among them, by placing his hand upon the ground and kissing it; and thus I was kept waiting about an hour, until all had performed the ceremony. Connected with the city is a wooden bridge ten paces wide, where the causeway is open to allow the water free ingress and egress, as it rises and falls; and also for the security of the city, as they can remove the long and wide beams of which the bridge is formed, and replace them whenever they wish; and there are many such bridges in different parts of the city, as Your Highness will perceive hereafter from the particular account I shall give of it. "When we had passed the bridge, the Señor Muteczuma came out to receive us, attended by about two hundred nobles, all barefooted, and dressed in livery, or a peculiar garb of fine cotton, richer than is usually worn; they came in two processions in close proximity to the houses on each side of the street, which is very wide and beautiful, and so straight that you can see from one end of it to the other, although it is two-thirds of a league in length, having on both sides large and elegant houses and temples. Muteczuma came through {164} the centre of the street, attended by two lords, one upon his right and the other upon his left hand, one of whom was the same nobleman who, as I have mentioned, came to meet me in a litter, and the other was the brother of Muteczuma, lord of the city of Iztapalapa, which I had left the same day; all three were dressed in the same manner, except that Muteczuma wore shoes, while the others were without them. He was supported in the arms of both, and as we approached, I alighted and advanced alone to salute him; but the two attendant lords stopped me to prevent my touching him, and they and he both performed the ceremony of kissing the ground; after which he directed his brother who accompanied him to remain with me; the latter accordingly took me by the arm, while Muteczuma, with his other attendant, walked a short distance in front of me, and after he had spoken to me, all the other nobles also came up to address me, and then went away in two processions with great regularity, one after the other, and in this manner returned to the city. At the time I advanced to speak to Muteczuma, I took off from myself a collar of pearls and glass diamonds, and put it around his neck. After having proceeded along the street, one of his servants came bringing two collars formed of shell fish, enclosed in a roll of cloth, which were made from the shells of colored prawns or periwinkles, held by them in great esteem; and from each collar depended eight golden prawns, finished in a very perfect manner and about a foot and a half in length. When these were brought Muteczuma turned toward me and put them around my neck; he then returned along the street in the order already described, until he reached a very large and splendid palace, in which we were to be quartered, {165} which had been fully prepared for our reception. He there took me by the hand and led me into a spacious saloon, in front of which was a court, through which we entered. Having caused me to sit down on a piece of rich carpeting, which he had ordered to be made for himself, he told me to await his return there, and then went away. After a short space of time, when my people were all bestowed in their quarters, he returned with many and various jewels of gold and silver, feather work and five or six thousand pieces of cotton cloth, very rich and of varied texture and finish. After having presented these to me, he sat down on another piece of carpet they had placed for him near me, and being seated he discoursed as follows: "'It is now a long time since, by means of written records, we learned from our ancestors that neither myself nor any of those who inhabit this region were descended from its original inhabitants, but from strangers who emigrated hither from a very distant land; and we have also learned that a prince, whose vassals they all were, conducted our people into these parts, and then returned to his native land. He afterward came again to this country, after the lapse of much time, and found that his people had inter-married with the native inhabitants, by whom they had many children, and had built towns in which they resided; and when he desired them to return with him, they were unwilling to go, nor were they disposed to acknowledge him as their sovereign; so he departed from the country, and we have always heard that his descendants would come to conquer this land and reduce us to subjection as his vassals; and according to the direction from which you say you have come, namely the quarter where the sun rises, and from what {166} you say of the great lord or king who sent you hither, we believe and are assured that he is our natural sovereign, especially as you say that it is a long time since you first had knowledge of us. Therefore, be assured that we will obey you, and acknowledge you for our sovereign in place of the great lord whom you mention, and that there shall be no default or deception on our part. And you have the power in all this land, I mean wherever my power extends, to command what is your pleasure, and it shall be done in obedience thereto, and all that we have is at your disposal. And since you are in your own proper land and your own house, rest and refresh yourself after the toils of your journey, and the conflicts in which you have been engaged, which have been brought upon you, as I well know, by all the people from Puntunchan to this place; and I am aware that the Cempoallans and the Tlascalans have told you much evil of me, but believe no more than you see with your own eyes, especially from those who are my enemies, some of whom were once my subjects, and having rebelled upon your arrival, make these statements to ingratiate themselves in your favor. These people, I know, have informed you that I possessed houses with walls of gold, and that my carpets and other things in common use were of the texture of gold; and that I was a god, or made myself one, and many other such things. The houses, as you see, are of stone and lime and earth.' And then he opened his robes and showed his person to me, saying: 'You see that I am composed of flesh and bone like yourself, and that I am mortal and palpable to the touch,' at the same time pinching his arms and body with his hands. 'See,' he continued, 'how they have deceived you. It is true that I have some things of gold, which {167} my ancestors have left me; all that I have is at your service whenever you wish it. I am now going to my other houses where I reside; you will be here provided with everything necessary for yourself and your people, and will suffer no embarrassment, as you are in your own house and country.' I answered him in respect to all that he had said, expressing my acknowledgments, and adding whatever the occasion seemed to demand, especially endeavoring to confirm him in the belief that Your Majesty was the sovereign they had looked for; and after this he took his leave, and having gone, we were liberally supplied with fowls, bread, fruits and other things required for the use of our quarters. In this way I was for six days amply provided with all that was necessary, and visited by many of the nobility." It throws a somewhat amusing light on the interview when we note that the presents exchanged were of great value on Montezuma's part, while the gift of Cortes was a collar of cheap imitation diamonds! The emotions of the Spaniards at this singular meeting between the immeasurable distance of the past and present were so strong that even the rough soldier felt it. "And when we beheld," says Bernal Diaz, "so many cities and towns rising up from the water, and other populous places situated on the terra firma, and that causeway, straight as a level, which went into Mexico, we remained astonished, and said to one another that it appeared like the enchanted castles which they tell of in the book of Amadis, by reason of the great towers, temples, and edifices which there were in the water, all of them work of masonry. Some of our soldiers asked if this that they saw was not a thing in a dream." {168} Fiske thus felicitously alludes to it: "It may be well called the most romantic moment in all history, this moment when European eyes first rested upon that city of wonders, the chief ornament of a stage of social evolution two full ethnical periods behind their own. To say that it was like stepping back across the centuries to visit the Nineveh of Sennacherib or hundred-gated Thebes, is but inadequately to depict the situation, for it was a longer step than that. Such chances do not come twice to mankind, for when two grades of culture so widely severed are brought into contact, the stronger is apt to blight and crush the weaker where it does not amend and transform it. In spite of its foul abominations, one sometimes feels that one would like to recall the extinct state of society in order to study it. The devoted lover of history, who ransacks all sciences for aid toward understanding the course of human events, who knows in what unexpected ways one progress often illustrates other stages, will sometimes wish it were possible to resuscitate, even for one brief year, the vanished City of the Cactus Rock. Could such a work of enchantment be performed, however, our first feeling would doubtless be one of ineffable horror and disgust, like that of the knight in the old English ballad, who, folding in his arms a damsel of radiant beauty, finds himself in the embrace of a loathsome fiend." What the emotions of the Mexicans were we have no account, but it is not difficult to imagine them. Amazement as at the visitation of a god, fear begot of this gross superstition, apprehension of what might be the result of the coming of these strange monsters, curiosity mingled with admiration; and as they looked at the long lines of fierce, dauntless, implacable {169} Tlascalans who accompanied the Spaniards, their hereditary enemies, there must have swelled in their savage breasts feelings of deep and bitter hatred. Outwardly, however, all was calm. The Spaniards marched through the flower-decked streets to the great palace of Ayxacatl, which had been assigned to them as a residence, and which was spacious and commodious enough to take them all in, bag and baggage, including their savage allies. It is one of the singular contradictions of the Aztec character that with all of their brutal religion and barbarism, they were passionately fond of flowers and like other barbarians rejoiced in color. "Flowers were used in many of the religious festivals, and there is abundant evidence, moreover, that the Mexicans were very fond of them. This is illustrated in the perpetual reference to flowers in old Mexican poems: 'They led me within a valley to a fertile spot, a flowery spot, where the dew spread out in glistening splendor, where I saw various lovely fragrant flowers, lovely odorous flowers, clothed with the dew, scattered around in rainbow glory; there they said to me, 'Pluck the flowers, whichever thou wishest; mayst thou, the singer, be glad, and give them to thy friends, to the chiefs, that they may rejoice on the earth.' So I gathered in the folds of my garments the various fragrant flowers, delicate, scented, delicious.'" The will of Montezuma was supreme. Nothing dimmed the warmth and generosity of his splendid hospitality. There were no frowning looks, no mutterings of discontent, everything was joyous and pleasant, at least outwardly, yet not one of the Christians was blind to the peril in which he stood, or doubted that the least accident might precipitate an outbreak {170} which would sweep them all from off the face of the earth. For six days the Spaniards remained the guests of the Mexican Emperor. Visits were exchanged, religious discussions were indulged in, and Cortes was only constrained from overthrowing their idols in the temples which he visited, and substituting Christian emblems therein by force, by the prudent counsel of the worthy priests, men remarkable for their wisdom and their statesmanship, who accompanied him. Continual efforts were made to convert Montezuma, but without results. That monarch, who was of a cheerful and jovial nature, professed great friendship for and interest in the Spaniards, whom he often visited and to whom he accorded many privileges. Such a condition of affairs, however, could not last very long. The suspense was intolerable to a man of action like Cortes and to the men who followed him as well. They were not good waiters. Something had to be done. Into the mind of this Spanish soldier of fortune there leaped a bold design. He decided upon a course of action, as amazing in its character, so far-reaching in its result, that its conception and its execution almost thrust him into the ranks of the demi-gods. This project was nothing less than the seizure of the person of Montezuma in the midst of his capital, a city of three hundred thousand people, among whom were thousands of fierce and highly trained veteran warriors who counted their lives as nothing in the Emperor's need. Undoubtedly such an action was the basest of treachery, but Cortes had put himself in such a position that the nakedness of such an action did not prevail with him for a moment. He quieted his conscience with the {171} old reasoning that Montezuma was a heathen, and that oaths to him were by no means binding. Whether he quieted his conscience or not, something was necessary. He could not retire from Mexico after this ostensibly friendly visit. Such a withdrawal would not have suited his purposes at all, and it was more than possible that the moment he turned his back on the Aztec capital, he would be forced to fight for his life against conditions which would leave him little or no possibility of escape. It was really Montezuma's life and liberty or Cortes' life and liberty. In such an alternative, there was no hesitation. VIII. The Seizure of the Emperor Occasion was soon found for the seizure. A chief on the sea coast had attacked and killed some of the men left at Vera Cruz. It was alleged that this was done by the orders of Montezuma. Cortes accompanied by the hardiest and bravest of his companions, and after a night of prayer--singular with what good consciences they could pray for the success of the most nefarious undertaking!--visited Montezuma, and accused him of having instigated the crime. Montezuma denied it, and despatched messengers to the offending cacique, directing that he be put under close arrest and brought to the capital. This was all any reasonable man could expect, but Cortes and his companions were not reasonable. In spite of the fact that the prompt action of the Aztec had deprived them of the faintest pretext, they nevertheless at last declared to the unhappy monarch that he must accompany them to the pueblo, which he had assigned to them, and remain in the custody of {172} the Spaniards until the matter had been decided. In vain Montezuma protested. His situation was unfortunate. He was surrounded by an intrepid body of steel-clad Spaniards, and although the room was filled with officers, courtiers and soldiers, he realized--indeed he was bluntly told--that the first act of hostility against the Spaniards would result in his immediate death. He made a virtue of a necessity, and complied with the Spaniards' demand. Forbidding his subjects, who were moved to tears--tears of rage and anger, most probably--to assist him, he submitted himself to the will of his captors, and went away with them. He had to go or he would have died then and there. Far better would it have been if he had chosen the nobler course, both for his fame and his empire. The affairs of the government were carried on as usual by Montezuma, to whom his officers and his counsellors had free access. Cortes even permitted him to go to the Temple on occasion for the ordinary worship, but in every instance he was accompanied and practically surrounded by a body of one hundred completely armed and thoroughly resolute Spaniards. Cortes did not attempt to interfere in the least degree with the national administration, although it was patent to everybody that as he held the person of the Emperor, he could also command, if he so elected, the power of the empire. Meanwhile, the Cacique Quahpopoca, who was guilty of the murder of the Spaniards on the coast, was brought into Mexico two weeks after the seizure of Montezuma. With a loyalty touchingly beautiful, he promptly declared that he had acted upon his own responsibility and that Montezuma had had {173} nothing whatever to do with it, which was, of course, highly improbable. The official clearing of Montezuma was complete; nevertheless, despite the testimony of Quahpopoca, Cortes actually put the Mexican monarch in double irons. It is true, the irons were removed almost immediately, and he was treated as he had been during his two weeks' captivity, with the greatest possible respect and deference, but the irons had not merely clasped the wrists and ankles of the unfortunate Aztec. They had entered his soul. Quahpopoca was burned in the public square. The heaping fagots which surrounded the stake were made of javelins and spears collected by Cortes with intrepid audacity and far-seeing prudence, from the public armory. Vast numbers of them were used. The populace looked on in sullen and gloomy silence. Montezuma was not merely the ruler of the country, but in some senses he was a deity, and his capture, together with the capture of the great lords of his family, who, under ordinary circumstances would have succeeded to his throne, paralyzed the national, social, political and religious organization. Cortes actually held his captive in this way until spring. The intervening months were not wasted. Expeditions were sent to all parts of the country to ascertain its resources and report upon them, so that, when the Spaniards took over the government, they would be prepared to administer it wisely and well. No such prudent and statesmanlike policy was inaugurated by any other conqueror. Cortes in this particular stands absolutely alone among the great adventurers, Spanish and otherwise. He was not a mere plunderer of the people, he was laying a foundation for an empire. Vast treasures were, nevertheless, collected. {174} Messengers were despatched to Charles V. with the letters which have already been quoted and with the royal share of the booty, which was great enough to insure them a favorable reception. What Cortes would have done further can only be surmised. Something happened suddenly which forced his hand. In the spring, Montezuma received word through an excellent corps of messengers which supplied him daily with information from all parts of the empire, of the arrival of a strange Spanish force on the coast. Mexico had no writing, but its messenger system was one of the best in the world. Messengers arrived daily from the farthest parts and confines of the Mexican empire, supplementing pictures, which the Mexicans drew very cleverly, with verbal accounts. Incidentally, there was no money in the empire, either. The art of coinage had not been attained. IX. The Revolt of the Capital Cortes was naturally much interested and not a little perturbed by the news. Soon the exact tidings reached him from the commander at Vera Cruz, that the force consisted of some twelve hundred men, including eighty horse, all under the command of one Panfilo de Narvaez, which had been organized, equipped and sent out by Cortes' old enemy, Velasquez, with instructions to seize him and his companions and send them back to Cuba for trial. Narvaez was loud in his threats of what he was going to do with Cortes and how he was going to do it. The great Spaniard acted with his usual promptness. He left in charge of the city one Pedro de Alvarado, called from his fair hair, Tonatiuh, or the {175} child of the sun. Committing the care of Montezuma to this cavalier and bidding him watch over him and guard him with his life, as the safety of all depended upon him, Cortes with some two hundred and fifty men made a dash for the coast. It was two hundred and fifty against five times that number, but with the two hundred and fifty was a man whose mere presence equalized conditions, while with the twelve hundred and fifty was another whose braggart foolishness diminished their superiority until, in the end, it really amounted to nothing! Cortes actually surprised Narvaez in the town in which he had taken refuge and seized him after an attack--a night surprise of bold and audacious conception--by the two hundred and fifty against the twelve hundred which was completely successful. With Narvaez in Cortes's hands all opposition ceased on the part of the men. In one swoop Narvaez lost power, position and one eye, which had been knocked out during the contest, and Cortes found his following reinforced by so great a number and quality that he had never dreamed of such a thing. "You are, indeed, fortunate," said Narvaez to his conqueror, "in having captured me." "It is," said Cortes carelessly, "the least of the things I have done in Mexico!" While affairs were thus progressing favorably on the coast, the smouldering rebellion had at last broken out in Mexico, and Cortes received a message from Alvarado, bidding him return with all possible speed. There was not a braver soldier, a fiercer fighter, or a more resolute man in the following of Cortes than Pedro de Alvarado. When that has been said, however, practically all has been said that can be said in {176} his favor. He was a rash, impetuous, reckless, head-long, tactless, unscrupulous man, and brutal and cruel to a high degree. His suspicions that the Aztecs, led by Montezuma, were conspiring to overwhelm his small force were aroused. It is probable that there was some truth in his apprehensions, although he could not point to anything very definite upon which to base them. He knew of but one way to deal with such a situation--by brute force. He waited until the great May Festival of the Aztecs was being held, and then fell upon them in the midst of their joyous play and slew six hundred, including many of the noblest chiefs of the land. The outbreak was instant and universal. The house of Ayxacatl was at once besieged, the influx of provisions was stopped, and the pueblo was surrounded by vast numbers of thoroughly enraged citizens. Neither the Spaniards nor the allies could leave the pueblo without being overwhelmed. Alvarado at last compelled Montezuma to show himself on the walls and bid the people stop fighting, to enable him to strengthen his position and hold it until the arrival of Cortes, and some fifteen hundred men, his own force and that of Narvaez combined. When the conqueror met Alvarado he upbraided him and told him that he had behaved like a madman. There was little or no provision. Cortes now made the mistake of sending Cuitlahua, the brother of Montezuma, out into the city with instructions for him to have the markets opened at once and secure provisions for the Spaniards and their horses. Cuitlahua, being free, called the council of priests. This council at once deposed Montezuma and elected Cuitlahua {177} emperor and priest in his place. The revolution and the religion now had a head. The next morning an attack of such force was delivered that many of even the stoutest-hearted Spaniards quailed before it. The slaughter of the natives was terrific. The Spanish cannon opened long lanes through the crowded streets. The Spanish horse sallied forth and hacked and hewed broad pathways up the different avenues. Still, the attack was pressed and was as intrepid as if not a single Aztec had died. The roar that came up from every quarter of the city, from the house tops, from the crowded streets, from the Temples, was in itself enough to appall the bravest. X. In God's Way Finally Cortes resorted to Alvarado's expedient. He compelled the unhappy Montezuma to mount the walls of the palace and bid the people disperse. When he appeared in all his splendid panoply upon the roof of the palace there was a strange silence. He was no longer priest, he was no longer emperor, he was no longer a power, he was no longer a god, but some of the old divinity seemed to cling to him, to linger around him still. The situation was so tragic that even the meanest soldier, Mexican or Spanish, felt its import. A long time the Aztec looked over his once smiling capital, and into the faces of his once subordinate people. Finally he began to address them. He bade them lay down their arms and disperse. The people, led by the great lords and Montezuma's brother, Cuitlahua, and his nephew, Guatemoc, answered with a roar of rage, and the roar spread as the purport of the message was communicated to those {178} further back. Montezuma stood appalled. The next instant a rain of missiles was actually launched at him and the Spaniards who stood by his side. A stone hurled, it is said by young Guatemoc, struck him in the forehead. He reeled and fell. With the bitter words: "Woman! woman!" ringing in his ears, he was carried away by the Spaniards. His face, says Lew Wallace, was the face of a man "breaking because he was in God's way!" He lived a few days after that, but he refused to eat, and repeatedly tore the bandages from his wounds until death put an end to his miseries. The stone that had struck him had broken his heart. Neither Cortes nor Montezuma himself knew that he had been deposed. Cortes and the principal Spaniards visited him and endeavoured to console him, but he turned his face to the wall and would have none of them. It was said afterward that he became a Christian, but it is most probably not true. He died as he had lived. Helps thus describes the scene and the great Montezuma's end: [Illustration: The Death of Montezuma. From an old engraving.] "He was surrounded by Spanish soldiers, and was at first received with all respect and honor by his people. When silence ensued, he addressed them in very loving words, bidding them discontinue the attack, and assuring them that the Spaniards would depart from Mexico. It is not probable that much of his discourse could have been heard by the raging multitude. But, on the other hand, he was able to hear what their leaders had to say, as four of the chiefs approached near him, and with tears addressed him, declaring their grief at his imprisonment. They told him that they had chosen his brother as their leader, that they had vowed to their gods not to cease fighting {179} until the Spaniards were all destroyed, and that each day they prayed to their gods to keep him free and harmless. They added, that when their designs were accomplished, he should be much more their lord than heretofore, and that he should then pardon them. Amongst the crowd, however, were, doubtless, men who viewed the conduct of Montezuma with intense disgust, or who thought that they had already shown too much disrespect toward him ever to be pardoned. A shower of stones and arrows interrupted the parley; the Spanish soldiers had ceased for the moment to protect Montezuma with their shields; and he was severely wounded in the head and in two other places. The miserable monarch was borne away, having received his death-stroke; but whether it came from the wounds themselves, or from the indignity of being thus treated by his people, remains a doubtful point. It seems, however, that, to use some emphatic words which have been employed upon a similar occasion: 'He turned his face to the wall, and would be troubled no more.' [Illustration: "He Defended Himself With His Terrible Spear"] "It is remarkable that he did not die like a Christian,[6] and I think this shows that he had more force of mind and purpose than the world has generally been inclined to give him credit for. To read Montezuma's character rightly, at this distance of time, and amidst such a wild perplexity of facts, would be very difficult, and is not very important. But one thing, {180} I think, is discernible, and that is, that his manners were very gracious and graceful. I dwell upon this, because I conceive it was a characteristic of the race; and no one will estimate this characteristic lightly, who has observed how very rare, even in the centres of civilized life, it is to find people of fine manners, so that in great capitals but very few persons can be pointed out who are at all transcendent in this respect. The gracious delight which Montezuma had in giving was particularly noticeable; and the impression which he made upon Bernal Diaz may be seen in the narrative of this simple soldier, who never speaks of him otherwise as 'the great Montezuma'; and, upon the occasion of his death, remarks that some of the Spanish soldiers who had known him mourned for him as if he had been a father, 'and no wonder,' he adds, 'seeing that he was so good.'" Cortes sent out the body to the new king, and Montezuma was mourned over by the Spaniards, to whom he had always been gracious, and probably, by his own people; but little could be learned of what the Mexicans thought, or did, upon the occasion, by the Spaniards, who only saw that Montezuma's death made no difference in the fierceness of the enemy's attack. Meanwhile the situation of the Spaniards was indescribable. There was mutiny and rebellion among them. The soldiers of Narvaez, who looked for a pleasant promenade through a land of peace and plenty, were appalled. There was daily, desperate fighting. The Mexicans had manned the temple of the war-god which overlooked the Spanish pueblo, and Cortes determined to capture it. With a large body of chosen men he attempted its escalade. It was crowded to the very top with the most resolute {181} Aztecs, and they fought for it with the courage of fanaticism and despair itself. The feather shields were no match for the steel cuirasses. The wooden clubs, stuck full of sharp pieces of obsidian, could not compete on equal terms with the Toledo blades. Step by step, terrace by terrace, the Spaniards fought their way to the very top. As if by mutual consent, the contests in the streets stopped and all eyes were turned upon this battle in the air. Arriving at the great plateau upon the crest, the Spaniards were met by five hundred of the noblest Aztecs, who, animated by their priests, made the last desperate stand for the altars of their gods. "And how can men die better, Than in facing fearful odds, For the ashes of their Fathers, And the temples of their Gods?" In the course of the terrific conflict which ensued, two of the bravest leaped upon Cortes, wrapped their arms around him, and attempted to throw themselves off the top of the temple, devoting themselves to death, if so be, they might compass their bold design. It was on the very verge of eternity that Cortes tore himself free from them. Singled out for attack because of his position and because of his fearlessness in battle, his life was saved again and again by his followers, until it seemed to be miraculously preserved. After a stupendous struggle the summit of the temple was carried. Amid the groans of the populace, the Spaniards tumbled down from its resting-place the hideous image of the war-god, and completed in Aztec eyes the desecration of the temple. They were victorious, but they had paid a price. Dead Spaniards {182} dotted the terraces, the sunlight, gleaming on their armor, picking them out amid the dark, naked bodies of the Mexicans. Of those who had survived the encounter, there was scarcely one but had sustained one or more wounds, some of them fearful in character. The Mexicans had not died in vain. Leaving a guard at the temple, Cortes came back to the garrison. The attack was resumed at once by the natives. Attempts were made to burn the thatched roofs of the pueblo. A rain of missiles was poured upon it. The Spaniards made sally after sally, inflicting great slaughter, but losing always a little themselves. The Aztecs would sometimes seize a Spaniard and bear him off alive to sacrifice him on some high pyramid temple in full view of his wretched comrades below. The Spaniards fired cannon after cannon, but to no avail. They were starving, they were becoming sick, and they were covered with wounds; their allies, who took part gallantly in all the hard fighting, suffered frightful losses. It was at last reluctantly agreed among the leaders that their only salvation was the evacuation of the city. XI. The Melancholy Night Although the course thus thrust upon them was indeed a hard one, there was nothing else to be done. Sick, wounded, starving, dying, they could by no means maintain themselves longer in the city. Fight as they might and would, the end would come speedily, and would mean annihilation. Happy in that event would be those who died upon the field, for every living captive, whatever his condition, would be reserved for that frightful sacrifice to the war-god, in which his {183} body would be opened, and his reeking heart torn, almost while still beating, from his breast. To retreat was almost as dangerous as it was to remain. It was certain, however, that some would get through in that attempt, although it was equally certain that many would not. Cortes, mustering his soldiers and allies, after a day of heart-breaking fighting, disclosed the situation to them in blunt soldier-like words, although they all knew it as well as he, and then the hasty preparations began. A vast treasure had been amassed by the Spaniards. Making an effort to preserve the fifth portion of it, which by law belonged to the King, Cortes threw open the treasure chamber and bade the rest help themselves. He cautioned them, however, that those who went the lightest, would have the greatest prospects for escape, a warning which many, especially among those who had come to the country with Narvaez, chose to disregard. The causeway along which they determined to fly and which connected Mexico with the mainland was pierced at intervals to admit passage from one portion of the lake to the other. The bridges which usually covered these openings had been taken away by the Aztecs. Cortes caused a temporary bridge or pontoon to be built which was to be carried with the fugitives to enable them to pass the openings. The night was the first of July, 1520. It was pitch dark and a heavy rain was falling. The forces consisted of twelve hundred and fifty Spaniards, of whom eighty were mounted, and six thousand Tlascalans. They were divided into three divisions. The advance was under the command of Juan Valesquez, Cortes led the main body, and the rear was put in the charge {184} of the rash, cruel, but heroic Alvarado. The less severely wounded were supported by their comrades, and those unable to walk were carried on litters or mounted on horses. Montezuma had died the night before. Any lingering hopes of being able to effect peace through his influence had departed. Leaving everything they could not carry, the Spaniards, after prayer, confession and absolution, threw open the gates,[7] and entered the city. Midnight was approaching. The streets and avenues were silent and deserted. The retreat proceeded cautiously for a little way, unmolested, when suddenly a deep, booming sound roared like thunder over the heads of the Spaniards, through the black night, filling their hearts with alarm. Cortes recognized it at once. The Aztecs were awake and ready. The priests in the great teocallis, or temple pyramids, were beating the great drum of the war-god, Huitzilopocahtli. Lights appeared here and there in the town, the clashing of arms was heard here and there on the broad avenues. Under the lights farther up the streets could be seen files of troops moving. The hour was full of portent. Dragging their artillery, carrying their wounded, bearing their treasure, the Spaniards and their allies passed rapidly through the streets. Before the advance reached the first opening in the causeway it was already hotly engaged. The water on either side of the cause-way suddenly swarmed with canoes. Spears, javelins, arrows, heavy war-clubs with jagged pieces of obsidian were hurled upon the Spaniards on the causeway. In front of them, almost, it seemed, for the whole length, the {185} Indians were massed. Step by step, by the hardest kind of hand-to-hand fighting, the Spaniards and their allies arrived at the first opening. Their loss had been frightful already. They were surrounded and attacked from all sides. Indians scrambled up the low banks in the darkness, seized the feet of the flying Spaniards and strove to draw them into the water. Many a white man, many a Tlascalan locked in the savage embrace of some heroic Aztec, stumbled or was dragged into the lake and was drowned in the struggle. The frightened horses reared and plunged and created great confusion. The golden treasure with which many had loaded themselves proved a frightful incumbrance. Those who could do so, flung it away; those too bitterly occupied in fighting for their lives could do little but drive, thrust, hew, hack and struggle in the dark and slippery way. But the army did advance. Arriving at the brink of the first opening, the bridge was brought up and the division began its passage. It had scarcely crossed the gap when under the pressure of tremendous fear, the second division, in spite of all that could be done to refrain and control them by Cortes and his officers--and there were no braver men on earth--crowded on the frail bridge. The structure which was sufficiently strong for ordinary and orderly passage, gave way, precipitating a great mass of Spaniards and Indians into the causeway. Cortes with his own hands, assisted by a few of the cooler veterans, tried to lift up the shattered remains of the bridge but was unable to do anything with it. It was ruined beyond repair, and sank into a splintered mass of timber under the terrific pressure to which it had been subjected. A passage at that gap was afforded to those who came {186} after because it was filled level with dead bodies of Spaniards, Indians and horses, to say nothing of guns, baggage and equipment. By this time the advance guard was again heavily engaged. The Spaniards and their allies staggered along the dyke, fighting desperately all the time. Velasquez, leading the advance division was killed at the brink of the second opening. The wretched fugitives were driven headlong into the second opening which was soon choked with horses and men as the first had been. Over this living, dying bridge the survivors madly ploughed. Some of them led by Cortes himself found a ford on the side. Although they were cut down by the hundreds, there seemed to be no end to the Aztecs. The rain still fell. The drum of the war-god mingled with frightful peals of thunder, and the shrill cries of the Mexicans rose higher and higher. The Spaniards were sick, wounded, beaten and terrified. Only Cortes and his captains and a few of his veterans preserved the slightest semblance of organization. The third gap was passed by the same awful expedient as the other two had been. There was not a great distance from the third opening to the mainland. The few who had passed over rushed desperately for the shore. Way back in the rear, last of all, came Alvarado. There was a strange current in the lake, and as he stood all alone at the last opening, confronting the pursuers, his horse having been killed under him, a swift movement of the water swept away the gorged mass of bodies. Torches in the canoes enabled the Aztecs to recognize Alvarado, Tonatiuh, the child of the sun. His helmet had been knocked off and his fair hair streamed over his shoulders. He indeed would {187} be a prize for their sacrifice, second only to Cortes himself. With furious cries, the most reckless and intrepid leaped upon the dyke and rushed at him. At his feet lay his neglected lance. Dropping his sword, he seized his spear, swiftly plunged the point of it into the sand at the bottom of the pass, and, weighted though he was with his armor, and weak from his wounds and from the loss of blood, leaped to safety on the other side. To this day, this place of Alvarado's marvelous leap is pointed out. Like Ney, Alvarado was the last of that grand army, and like the French commander, also, he might properly be called the bravest of the brave. Darkness was not the usual period for Aztec fighting. It was this alone that saved the lives of the remaining few for, having seen Alvarado stagger to freedom along the causeway, the Aztecs concluded that they had done enough and returned to the city rejoicing. They took back with them many Spaniards and Tlascalans as captives for sacrifice and the cannibalistic feast which followed. When day broke, Cortes sitting under a tree, which is still to be seen in Mexico,[8] ordered the survivors to pass in review before him. They numbered five hundred Spaniards and two thousand Tlascalans and a score of horses. Seven hundred and fifty Spaniards had been killed or taken captive and four thousand Tlascalans. All the artillery had been lost, seven arquebuses had been saved, but there was no powder. Half the Spaniards were destitute of any weapons and the battle-axes and spears which had been saved {188} were jagged and broken. Their armor was battered and the most important parts, as helmets, shields, breastplates, had been lost. Some of the Tlascalans still preserved their savage weapons. There was scarcely a man, Spanish or Tlascalan who was not suffering from some wound. It is no wonder that when Cortes saw the melancholy and dejected array, even his heart of steel gave way and he buried his face in his hands and burst into tears. This terrible night has always been known in history as _la noche triste_--the melancholy night. Melancholy indeed it was. Surely the situation of a man was never more desperate. If the Mexicans had rejoiced in the leadership of a Cortes, they would have mustered their forces and fallen upon the Spaniards without the delay of a moment, and the result could only have been annihilation. But the Mexicans themselves had suffered terrifically. They had won a great victory, but they had paid a fearful price for it. Now they wanted to enjoy it. They wished to sacrifice their captives to their gods, and they thought that there was no hope for the Spaniards, and that they might overwhelm them at their leisure. This is Sir Arthur Helps' vivid description of the awful retreat: "A little before midnight the stealthy march began. The Spaniards succeeded in laying down the pontoon over the first bridge-way, and the vanguard with Sandoval passed over; Cortes and his men also passed over; but while the rest were passing, the Mexicans gave the alarm with loud shouts and blowing of horns. 'Tlaltelulco![9] Tlaltelulco!' they exclaimed, 'come out quickly with your canoes; the _teules_ are going; cut {189} them off at the bridges.' Almost immediately after this alarm, the lake was covered with canoes. It rained, and the misfortunes of the night commenced by two horses slipping from the pontoon into the water. Then, the Mexicans attacked the pontoon-bearers so furiously that it was impossible for them to raise it up again. In a very short time the water at that part was full of dead horses, Tlascalan men, Indian women, baggage, artillery, prisoners, and boxes (_petacas_) which, I suppose, supported the pontoon. On every side the most piteous cries were heard: 'Help me! I drown!' 'Rescue me! They are killing me!' Such vain demands were mingled with prayers to the Virgin Mary and to Saint James. Those that did get upon the bridge and on the causeway found hands of Mexicans ready to push them down again into the water. "At the second bridge-way a single beam was found, which doubtless had been left for the convenience of the Mexicans themselves. This was useless for the horses, but Cortes diverging, found a shallow place where the water did not reach further than up to the saddle, and by that he and his horsemen passed (as Sandoval must have done before). He contrived, also to get his foot-soldiers safely to the mainland, though whether they swam or waded, whether they kept the line of the causeway, or diverged into the shallows, it is difficult to determine. Leaving the vanguard and his own division safe on shore, Cortes with a small body of horse and foot, returned to give what assistance he could to those who were left behind. All order was now lost, and the retreat was little else than a confused slaughter, although small bodies of the Spaniards still retained sufficient presence of mind {190} to act together, rushing forward, clearing the space about them, making their way at each moment with loss of life, but still some few survivors getting onward. Few, indeed, of the rear-guard could have escaped. It is told as a wonder of Alvarado, that, coming to the last bridge, he made a leap, which has by many been deemed impossible, and cleared the vast aperture. When Cortes came up to him, he was found accompanied by only seven soldiers and eight Tlascalans, all covered with blood from their many wounds. They told Cortes that there was no use in going further back, that all who remained alive were there with him. Upon this the General turned; and the small and melancholy band of Spaniards pushed on to Tlacuba, Cortes protecting the rear. It is said that he sat down on a stone in the village called Popotla near Tlacuba, and wept; a rare occurrence, for he was not a man to waste any energy in weeping while aught remained to be done. The country was aroused against them, and they did not rest for the night till they had fortified themselves in a temple on a hill near Tlacuba, where afterward was built a church dedicated, very appropriately, to Our Lady of Refuge (_à Nuestra Señora de los Remedios_)." There is an old story of a Roman general, who after a most terrific defeat, a defeat due largely to his own incompetency, not only escaped censure but was officially thanked by the senate, because he declared publicly that he did not despair of the republic. Of that same temper was Cortes. Exhorting his men in the face of this awful peril which menaced them to conduct themselves as white men, as Spaniards, and as soldiers of the Cross, Cortes led his army toward Tlascala. Upon the position of {191} that republic absolutely depended the future. It depends upon the way you look at the situation as to how you estimate the conduct of these dusky allies of the unfortunate conqueror. Had there been any national feeling among them, had their hatred of the Aztecs been less, they might have broken their agreements with the Spaniards and overwhelmed them, but the hatred of the Tlascalans did not permit them to look beyond the present day. They decided to maintain the alliance they had entered into with Cortes and welcomed him with open arms. They gave him a chance to recuperate, to get something to eat, and to dress the wounds of his men. All the Spaniards wanted was time to bring about the inevitable downfall of Mexico and the Mexicans. Among the men who had followed Narvaez was a Negro who had brought with him the germs of small-pox, which were communicated to the Aztecs in the city. It spared neither rich nor poor, as one of the first victims was their leader, Cuitlahua. The electors chose his nephew to succeed him, the youthful Guatemoc, or, as he was commonly called, Guatemotzin. In some respects in spite of the lack of the sagacity and farsightedness of Cuitlahua, he was a better man for the problem, for he at once mustered his forces and launched them upon Cortes and the Tlascalans in the valley of Otumba. The Tlascalans had furnished shelter and provisions to Cortes, and had resolved to stand by their treaty with him, but they had not yet furnished him with any great assistance. A strong party in the council had been entirely opposed to doing anything whatever for him. Cortes practically had to fight the battle alone and the battle had {192} to be won. He and his fought, as the saying is, with halters around their necks. All day long the Spaniards and their few allies fought up and down the narrow valley. Defeat meant certain death. They must conquer or be tortured, sacrificed and eaten. It was Cortes himself who decided the issue. With Alvarado and a few of the other captains, he finally broke through the Aztec centre, with his own hand killed the Aztec general, to whom Guatemoc had committed the battle, and seized the Aztec standard. At the close of the long hours of fighting the natives broke and fled, and the supremacy of Cortes and the Spaniards was once more established. Wavering Tlascala decided for Cortes and he was received with generous, royal and munificent hospitality, which accorded him everything he asked. Messengers were despatched to Hispaniola for reinforcements and every preparation made for the renewal of the campaign. During the fall, troops, horses, men, guns and thousands of the flower of the Tlascalan army were placed at Cortes's disposal. He occupied them by sending expeditions in every direction, thus restoring their morale and punishing the savage tribes who had revolted against the Spanish rule and had returned to their old allegiance to the Aztec emperor. The punishments were fearful. The resources of the Mexicans were gradually cut off and by the end of the year the Aztecs realized that they would have to fight their last battle alone. These successful campaigns reëstablished the prestige which the Spaniards had lost. The people everywhere knew that they were no longer gods, but they now enjoyed a higher reputation, that of being invincible. Cortes was resolved to attack Mexico. With a {193} prudence as great as his determination he decided to neglect no precaution which would insure his success. He caused to be built a number of brigantines by which he could secure the command of the lake, and thereby give access to the city for his troops and allies. These brigantines were built at Tlascala under the supervision of the sailors of the expedition. The rigging of the ships, which had been destroyed, was useful in fitting them out. They were built in pieces and arrangements were made to carry them over the mountains and put them together at the lake when the campaign began. Guns and provisions were also amassed. Powder was brought from Cuba and it was also made by means of the sulphur deposits of the volcanoes round about. The troops were daily drilled and trained. Daily prayers were held, and every effort was made to give the forthcoming campaign the spirit of a crusade. The strictest moral regulations were promulgated. In short, nothing was left undone to bring about the downfall of Mexico. On his part, Guatemoc was not idle. He summoned to his assistance all the tribes that remained loyal to him, especially those to the west, not subjected to the Spanish attack. He strove by bribery to detach those who had given their adherence to Cortes. Vast numbers of allies assembled in Mexico, which was provisioned for a siege. Everything that occurred to the minds of these splendid barbarians was done. After having done all that was possible, with resolution which cannot be commended too highly, they calmly awaited the onset of the Spaniards. On Christmas day, 1520, Cortes took up the march over the mountains again for the great city of the cactus rock. {194} XII. The Siege and Destruction of Mexico It was April of the next year when Cortes at last arrived before the city and began the siege. The force which he had mustered for this tremendous undertaking consisted of seven hundred Spanish infantry, one hundred and twenty arquebuses, eighty-six horsemen, twelve cannon, and a countless multitude of Tlascalan fighters together with numbers of slaves and servants. As the city was connected with the mainland by three causeways, it was necessary to invest it on three sides. The army was divided into three equal divisions. He himself commanded the force that was to attack along the south causeway; with him was Sandoval, his most trusted and efficient lieutenant; Alvarado led that which was to advance over the west causeway and Olid was to close the north causeway. The brigantines were brought over the mountains by hand by thousands of Tlascalans. There were no vehicles or highways of any sort in Mexico; the Mexicans not having domesticated any animals there was no use for anything broader than a foot-path, a fact which throws an interesting side-light on their civilization, by the way. These Spanish boats were put together on the shores of the lake and when they were launched they served to close the ring of steel which surrounded the doomed city. The three great tribal divisions of the Aztec empire were the Aztecs themselves, the Cholulans and the Tezcocans. Cholula had been conquered and with Tezcoco at this critical juncture went over to the Spaniards, leaving Guatemoc and his Aztecs to fight the last fight {195} alone. Besides the forces enumerated, each Spanish division was accompanied by formidable bodies of Tlascalans. The Tlascalans were nearly, if not quite, as good fighters as the Aztecs; perhaps they were better fighters, so far as their numbers went, when led and supported by the white people. The first thing that Cortes did was to cut the aqueduct which carried fresh water into the city. The lake of Tezcoco in which Mexico stood was salt. By this one stroke, Cortes forced the inhabitants to depend upon a very meagre, scanty supply of water from wells in the city, many of which were brackish and unpalatable. The shores of the lake were swept bare by the beleaguerers. Iztatapalan, a rocky fortress was taken by storm and on April 21, 1521, the first attack was delivered along the causeways. The Mexicans met the advance with their customary intrepidity. The water on either side of the causeway swarmed with canoes. Thousands of warriors poured out of the city. The canoes swept down the lake intending to take the Spaniards in reverse and then pour in a terrible flank fire of missiles as they had done on the Melancholy Night. Cortes sustained this fire for a short time in order to draw the canoes as far toward him as possible, then he let loose the brigantines. These brigantines were boats propelled by oars and sails on a single mast. They carried about a score of armed men and were very well and stoutly built. I suppose them to have been something like a modern man-o'-war cutter. They played havoc with the frail canoes. Their solid construction, their higher free-board, that is, the height they were above the water-line, the armor of their crews and the fact that the wind happened to be favorable and they {196} could sail instead of row that morning, all contributed to the utter and complete destruction of the Indian flotilla. Canoes were splintered and sunk. Men were killed by the hundreds. They strove to climb up the slippery sides of the causeways and dykes. The Spaniards thrust them off into the deep water with their spears or cut them to pieces with their swords. The battle along the causeways, which were narrow, although quite wide enough for a dozen horsemen abreast, was terrible. The Aztecs literally died in their tracks, disdaining to fly. The Spaniards made their way over a floor of dead and writhing bodies. Bare breasts, however resolute the hearts that beat beneath them, were no match for the steel cuirasses. The wooden shields did not even blunt the edge of the Toledo blade; the obsidian battle-axes could not contest with the iron maces. The jewelled feather work of the proudest noble was not equal even to the steel-trimmed leather jerkin of the poorest white soldier. The Spaniards literally cut their way, hewed, hacked, thrust their way into the city. Here the fighting was slightly more equalized. The low roofs of the houses and pueblos swarmed with warriors. They rained missiles down upon the Spaniards' heads, while a never diminishing mob hurled itself into the faces of the white men. The Aztecs could have done more damage if they had not sacrificed everything in order to capture the Spaniards alive. In some instances they succeeded in their purpose. The fighting which was the same in all three of the causeways lasted all day and then the Spaniards retired to their several camps. Save for the fact that they afterward cleared the lake of the canoes by the aid of the brigantines, one {197} day's fighting was like another. The Spaniards would march into the city, slaughter until their arms were weary. They would lose a few here and there every day. The Tlascalans who took their part in all the fighting lost many. The end of the day would see things _in statu quo_. There were enough of the Indians even to sacrifice one hundred of them to one Spaniard and still maintain the balance of power. Cortes observed that he might fight this way until all of his army had melted away by piecemeal and have taken nothing. He determined upon the dreadful expedient of destroying the city as he captured it. After coming to this decision, he summoned to his aid large bodies of the subject tribes. Thereafter, while the Spaniards and the Tlascalans fought, the others tore down that portion of the city which had been taken. The buildings were absolutely razed to the ground and nothing whatever was left of them. Canals were filled, gardens were ruined, trees cut down and even the walls of the city torn apart. In short, what once had been a teeming populous quarter of the city, abounding in parks, gardens and palaces, was left a desert. There was not enough power left in the Aztec Confederacy to rebuild the devastated portions over night and the Spaniards daily pressed their attack on every side with relentless rigor. The Mexicans were slowly constricted to an ever narrowing circle. The Spaniards seized and choked up the wells. The Mexicans were dying of thirst. The brigantines swept the lake and prevented any reënforcements reaching them, which cut off their supply of provisions. They were dying of hunger. After every day's fighting Cortes offered amnesty. To do {198} him justice, he begged that peace might be made and the fighting stopped before the city was ruined and all its inhabitants were killed. He was no mere murderer, and such scenes of slaughter horrified him. He had a genuine admiration for the enemy too. He tried his best to secure peace. His offers were repudiated with contempt. In spite of the fact that they were starving, the Aztecs in bravado actually threw provisions in the faces of the advancing Spaniards. They declared to the Tlascalans that when there was nothing left to eat they would eat them, and if there was nothing else, they would live on one another until they were all dead. They mocked and jeered at the tribes tearing down the houses, and with grim humor pointed out to them that they would have to rebuild the city whoever was successful in the strife, for either the Aztecs or the Spaniards would compel them to do so. So the fighting went on through the long days. XIII. A Day of Desperate Fighting On one occasion the soldiers, tiring of this, demanded, and Cortes in compliance with their wishes projected, an attack which was hoped would capture the narrow circle of defense by storm. In his own words the story of this day's fighting is now related. It will be seen how he narrowly escaped with his life: "The day after mass,[10] in pursuance of the arrangements already mentioned, the seven brigantines with more than three thousand canoes of our allies left the encampment; and I, with twenty-five horses and {199} all the other force I had, including the seventy-five men from the division at Tacuba, took up the line of march and entered the city, where I distributed the troops in the following manner: There were three streets leading from where we entered to the market-place, called by the Indians Tianguizco, and the whole square in which it is situated is called Tlaltelulco; one of these streets was the principal avenue to the marketplace, which I ordered your Majesty's treasurer and auditor to take, with seventy men and more than fifteen or twenty thousand of our allies, and rear-guard consisting of seven or eight horses. I also directed that, whenever a bridge or entrenchment was taken, it should be immediately filled up; and for this purpose they had twelve men with pick-axes, together with many more of our allies who were very useful in this kind of work. The two other streets also lead from that of Tacuba to the market-place, and are narrower and full of causeways, bridges, and water-streets (or canals). I ordered two captains,[11] to take the wildest of these with eighty men and more than ten thousand of our Indian allies; and at the head of the street of Tacuba I placed two heavy cannon with eight horse to guard them. With eight other horse and about one hundred foot, including twenty-five or more bowmen and musketeers, and an innumerable host of our allies, I took up the line of march along the other narrow street, intending to penetrate as far as possible. At its entrance I caused the cavalry to halt, and ordered them by no means to pass from there, nor to come in my rear, unless I first sent them orders to that effect; and then I alighted from my {200} horse, and we came to an entrenchment that had been raised in front of a bridge, which we carried by means of a small field-piece, and the archers and musketeers, and then proceeded along the causeway, which was broken in two or three places, where we encountered the enemy. So great was the number of our allies, who ascended the terraces and other places, that it did not appear possible anything could stop us. When we had gained the two bridges, the entrenchments and the causeways, our allies followed along the street without taking any spoils; and I remained behind with about twenty Spanish soldiers on a little island, for I saw that some of our Indians were getting into trouble with the enemy; and in some instances they retreated until they cast themselves into the water, and with our aid were enabled to return to the attack. Besides this, we were on the watch to prevent the enemy from sallying forth out of the cross-streets in the rear of the Spaniards, who had advanced on the main street and at this time sent us word that they had made much progress, and were not far from the great square of the market-place; adding, that they wished to push forward, for they already heard the noise of the combat in which the Alguazil mayor and Pedro de Alvarado were engaged on their side of the city. I answered them that they must by no means go forward without leaving the bridges well filled up, so that, if it became necessary to beat a retreat, the water might present no obstacle or impediment, for in this consisted all the danger. They sent to me a message in reply, the amount of which was that the whole they had gained was in good condition, and that I might go and see if it was not so. But suspecting that they had disregarded the orders and left the {201} bridges imperfectly filled up, I went to the place and found they had passed a breach in the road ten or twelve paces wide, and the water that flowed through it was ten or twelve feet deep. At the time the troops had passed this ditch, thus formed, they had thrown in it wood and reed-canes, and as they had crossed a few at a time and with great circumspection, the wood and canes had not sunk beneath their weight; and they were so intoxicated with the pleasure of victory that they imagined it to be sufficiently firm. At the moment I reached this bridge of troubles, I discovered some Spaniards and many of our allies flying back in great haste, and the enemy like dogs in pursuit of them; and when I saw such a rout, I began to cry out, 'Hold, hold!' and on approaching the water, I beheld it full of Spaniards and Indians in so dense a mass that it seemed as if there was not room for a straw to float. The enemy charged on the fugitives so hotly, that in the _mêlée_ they threw themselves into the water after them; and soon the enemy's canoes came up by means of the canal and took the Spaniards alive. As this affair was so sudden, and I saw them killing our men, I resolved to remain there and perish in the fight. The way in which I and those that were with me could do the most good was to give our hands to some unfortunate Spaniards who were drowning, and draw them out of the water; some came out wounded, others half-drowned, and others without arms, whom I sent forward. Already such multitudes of the enemy pressed upon us, that they had completely surrounded me and the twelve or fifteen men who were with me; and being deeply interested in endeavoring to save those that were sinking, I did not observe nor regard the danger to which I was exposed. Several Indians {202} of the enemy had already advanced to seize me and would have borne me off, had it not been for a captain of fifty men whom I always had with me, and also a youth of his company, to whom next to God, I owed my life; and in saving mine, like a valiant man, he lost his own.[12] In the meantime the Spaniards who had fled before the enemy, pursued their course along the causeway, and as it was small and narrow, and on the same level as the water, which had been effected by those dogs on purpose to annoy us; and as the road was crowded also with our allies who had been routed, much delay was thereby occasioned, enabling the enemy to come up on both sides of the water, and to take and destroy as many as they pleased. The captain who was with me, Antonio de Quinones, said to me: 'Let us leave this place and save your life, since you know that without you none of us can escape'; but he could not induce me to go. When he saw this, he seized me in his arms, that he might force me away; and although I would have been better satisfied to die than to live, yet by the importunity of this captain and of my other companions, we began to retreat, making our way with our swords and bucklers against the enemy, who pressed hard upon us. At this moment there came up a servant of mine and made a little room; but presently he received a blow in his throat from a lance thrown from a low terrace, that brought him to the ground. While I was in the midst of this conflict, sustaining the attacks of the enemy, and waiting for the crowd on the narrow causeway, to reach a place of safety, one of my servants brought {203} me a horse to ride on. But the mud on the causeway, occasioned by the coming and going of persons by water, was so deep that no one could stand, especially with the jostling of the people against one another in their effort to escape. "I mounted the horse, but not to fight, as this was impossible on horseback; but if it had been practicable I should have found on the little island opposite the narrow causeway, the eight horsemen I had left there, who were unable to do more than effect their return; which indeed, was so dangerous that two mares, on which two of my servants rode fell from the causeway into the water; one of them was killed by the Indians, but the other was saved by some of the infantry. Another servant of mine Cristobal de Guzman, rode a horse that they gave him at the little island to bring to me, on which I might make my escape; but the enemy killed both him and the horse before they reached me; his death spread sorrow through the whole camp, and even to this day his loss is still mourned by those who knew him. But after all our troubles, by the blessing of God, those of us who survived, reached the street of Tlacuba, which was very wide; and collecting the people, I took my post with nine horsemen in the rear-guard. The enemy pressed forward with all the pride of victory, as if resolved that none should escape with life; but falling back in the best manner I could, I sent word to the treasurer and auditor to retreat to the public square in good order. I also sent similar orders to the two captains who had entered the city by the street that led to the market-place, both of whom had fought gallantly, and carried many entrenchments and bridges, which they had caused to be well filled up, on account of {204} which they were able to retire without loss. Before the retreat of the treasurer and auditor some of the enemy threw in their way two or three heads of Christian men from the upper part of the entrenchment where they were fighting, but it was not known whether they were persons belonging to the camp of Pedro de Alvarado, or our own. All being assembled in the square, so large a multitude of the enemy charged upon us from all directions that we had as much as we could do to keep them back; and that, too, in places where, before this defeat, the enemy would have fled before three horse and ten foot. Immediately after, in a lofty tower filled with their idols that stood near the square, they burned perfumes and fumigated the air with certain gums peculiar to this country, that greatly resembled _anime_, which they offer to their idols in token of victory. Although we endeavored to throw obstacles in the way of the enemy, it was out of our power, as our people were hurrying back to the camp. "In this defeat thirty-five or forty Spaniards, and more than a thousand of our allies, were slain by the enemy, besides more than twenty Christians wounded, among whom was myself in the leg. We lost the small field-piece that we had taken with us, and many crossbows, muskets and other arms. Immediately after their victory in order to strike terror into the Alguazil mayor and Pedro de Alvarado, the enemy carried all the Spaniards, both living and dead, whom they had taken, to the Tlaltelulco which is the market-place, and in some of the lofty towers that are situated there they sacrificed them naked, opening their breasts and taking out their hearts to offer them to the idols. This was seen by the Spaniards of Alvarado's division from {205} where they were fighting, and from the whiteness of the naked bodies which they saw sacrificed they knew them to be Christians; but although they suffered great sorrow and dismay at the sight, they effected a retreat to their camp after having fought gallantly that day, and carried their conquests almost to the market-place, which would have been taken if God, on account of our sins, had not permitted so great a disaster. We returned to our camp, such was the grief we felt, somewhat earlier than had been usual on other days; and in addition to our other losses, we had been told that the brigantines had fallen into the hands of the enemies, who attacked them in their canoes from the rear; but it pleased God this was not true, although the brigantines and the canoes of our allies had been seen in danger enough, and even a brigantine came near being lost, the captain and the master of it being wounded, the former of whom died eight days afterward." This modest account of the brave soldier scarcely does justice to the situation, his peril and his courage. Therefore, I supplement it by Helps' description of the same day of desperate fighting: "The impatience of the soldiers grew to a great height, and was supported in an official quarter--by no less a person than Alderete, the King's Treasurer. Cortes gave way against his own judgment to their importunities. There had all along been a reason for his reluctance, which, probably, he did not communicate to his men; namely, that he had not abandoned the hope that the enemy would still come to terms. 'Finally,' he says, 'they pressed me so much that I gave way.' "The attack was to be a general one, in which the {206} divisions of Sandoval and Alvarado were to cooperate; but Cortes, with that knowledge of character which belonged to him, particularly explained that, though his general orders were for them to press into the market-place, they were not obliged to gain a single difficult pass which laid them open to defeat; 'for,' he says, 'I knew, from the men they were, that they would advance to whatever spot I told them to gain, even if they knew that it would cost them their lives.' "On the appointed day, Cortes moved from his camp, supported by seven brigantines, and by more than three thousand canoes filled with his Indian allies. When his soldiers reached the entrance of the city, he divided them in the following manner. There were three streets which led to the market-place from the position which the Spaniards had already gained. Along the principal street, the King's Treasurer, with seventy Spaniards, and fifteen or twenty thousand allies was to make his way. His rear was to be protected by a small guard of horsemen. "The other streets were smaller, and led from the street of Tlacuba to the market-place. Along the broader of these two streets, Cortes sent two of his principal captains, with eighty Spaniards and the thousand Indians; he himself with eight horsemen, seventy-five foot-soldiers, twenty-five musketeers, and an 'infinite number' of allies, was to enter the narrower street. At the entrance to the street of Tlacuba, he left two large cannon with eight horsemen to guard them, and at the entrance of his own street, he also left eight horsemen to protect the rear. "The Spaniards and their allies made their entrance into the city with even more success and less embarrassment than on previous occasions. Bridges and {207} barricades were gained, and the three main bodies of the army moved forward into the heart of the city. The ever-prudent Cortes did not follow his division, but remained with a small body-guard of twenty Spaniards in a little island formed by the intersection of certain water streets, whence he encouraged the allies, who were occasionally beaten back by the Mexicans, and where he could protect his own troops against any sudden descent of the enemy from certain side streets. "He now received a message from these Spanish troops who had made a rapid and successful advance into the heart of the town, informing him that they were not far from the market-place, and that they wished to have his permission to push forward, as they already heard the noise of the combats which the Alguazil mayor and Pedro de Alvarado were waging from their respective stations. To this message Cortes returned for answer that on no account should they move forward without first filling up the apertures thoroughly. They sent an answer back, stating that they had made completely passable all the ground they had gained; and that he might come and see whether it were not so. "Cortes, like a wise commander, not inclined to admit anything as a fact upon the statement of others which could be verified by personal inspection, took them at their word, and did move on to see what sort of a pathway they had made; when, to his dismay, he came in sight of a breach in the causeway, of considerable magnitude, being ten or twelve paces in width, and which, far from being filled up with solid material, had been passed upon wood and reeds, which was entirely insecure in case of retreat. The Spaniards, 'intoxicated with victory,' as their Commander {208} describes them, had rushed on, imagining that they left behind them a sufficient pathway. "There was now no time to remedy this lamentable error, for when Cortes arrived near this 'bridge of affliction,' as he calls it, he saw many of the Spaniards and the allies retreating toward it, and when he came up close to it, he found the bridge-way broken down, and the whole aperture so full of Spaniards and Indians, that there was not room for a straw to float upon the surface of the water. The peril was so imminent that Cortes not only thought that the conquest of Mexico was gone, but that the term of his life as well as that of his victories had come; and he resolved to die there fighting. All that he could do at first was to help his men out of the water; and meanwhile, the Mexicans charged upon them in such numbers, that he and his little party were entirely surrounded. The enemy seized upon his person, and would have carried him off, but for the resolute bravery of some of his guard, one of whom lost his life there in succoring his master. The greatest aid, however, that Cortes had at this moment of urgent peril, was the cruel superstition of the Mexicans, which made them wish to take the Malinche alive, and grudged the death of an enemy in any other way than that of sacrifice to their detestable gods. The captain of the body-guard seized hold of Cortes, and insisted upon his retreating, declaring that upon his life depended the lives of all of them. Cortes, though at that moment he felt that he should have delighted more in death than life, gave way to the importunity of his captain, and of other Spaniards who were near, and commenced a retreat for his life. His flight was along a narrow causeway at the same level as the water, an additional circumstance of danger, {209} which to use his expression about them, those 'dogs' had contrived against the Spaniards. The Mexicans in their canoes approached the causeway on both sides, and the slaughter they were thus enabled to commit, both among the allies and the Spaniards, was very great. Meanwhile, two or three horses were sent to aid Cortes in his retreat, and a youth upon one of them contrived to reach him, although the others were lost. At last he and a few of his men succeeded in fighting their way to the broad street of Tlacuba, where, like a brave captain, instead of continuing his flight, he and the few horsemen that were with him turned around and formed a rear-guard to protect his retreating troops. He also sent immediate orders to the King's Treasurer and the other commanders to make good their escape; orders the force of which was much heightened by the sight of two or three Spanish heads which the Mexicans, who were fighting behind a barricade, threw amongst the besiegers. "We must now see how it fared with the other divisions. Alvarado's men had prospered in their attack, and were steadily advancing toward the marketplace, when, all of a sudden, they found themselves encountered by an immense body of Mexican troops, splendidly accoutred, who threw before them five heads of Spaniards and kept shouting out, 'Thus we will slay you, as we have slain Malinche and Sandoval, whose heads these are.' With these words they commenced an attack of such fury, and came so close to hand with the Spaniards, that they could not use their cross-bows, their muskets, or even their swords. One thing, however, was in their favor. The difficulty of their retreat was always greatly enhanced by the number of their allies; but on this occasion, the {210} Tlascalans no sooner saw the bleeding heads and heard the menacing words of the Mexicans, than they cleared themselves off the causeway with all possible speed. "The Spaniards, therefore, were able to retreat in good order; and their dismay did not take the form of panic, even when they heard, from the summit of the Temple, the tones of that awful drum, made from the skin of serpents, which gave forth the most melancholy sound imaginable, and which was audible at two or three leagues' distance. This was the signal of sacrifice, and at that moment ten human hearts, the hearts of their companions, were being offered up to the Mexican deities. "A more dangerous, though not more dreadful sound was now to be heard. This was the blast of a horn sounded by no less a personage than the Mexican King--which signified that his captains were to succeed or die. The mad fury with which the Mexicans now rushed upon the Spaniards was an 'awful thing' to see; and the historian, who was present at the scene, writing in his old age, exclaims that, though he cannot describe it, yet, when he comes to think of it, it is as if it were 'visibly' before him, so deep was the impression it had made upon his mind. "But the Spaniards were not raw troops; and terror however great, was not able to overcome their sense of discipline and their duty to each other as comrades. It was in vain that the Mexicans rushed upon them 'as a conquered thing'; they reached their station, served their cannon steadily--although they had to renew their artillery-men--and maintained their ground. "The appalling stratagem adopted by the Mexicans--of {211} throwing down before one division of the Spanish army some of the heads of the prisoners they had taken from another division, and shouting that these were the heads of the principal commanders--was pursued with great success. They were thus enabled to discourage Sandoval, and to cause him to retreat with loss toward his quarters. They even tried with success the same stratagem upon Cortes, throwing before his camp, to which he had at last retreated, certain bleeding heads, which they said, were those of 'Tonatiuh' (Alvarado), Sandoval, and the other _teules_. Then it was that Cortes felt more dismay than ever, 'though,' says the honest chronicler, who did not like the man, no matter how much he admired the soldier, 'not in such a manner that those who were with him should perceive in it much weakness.' "After Sandoval had made good his retreat, he set off, accompanied by a few horsemen, for the camp of Cortes, and had an interview with him, of which the following account is given: 'O Señor Captain! what is this?' exclaimed Sandoval; 'are these the great counsels, and artifices of war which you have always been wont to show us? How has this disaster happened?' Cortes replied, 'O Don Sandoval! my sins have permitted this; but I am not so culpable in the business as they may make out, for it is the fault of the Treasurer, Juan de Alderete, whom I charged to fill up that difficult pass where they routed us; but he did not do so, for he is not accustomed to wars, nor to be commanded by superior officers.' At this point of the conference, the Treasurer himself, who had approached the captains in order to learn Sandoval's news, exclaimed that it was Cortes himself who was to blame; that he had encouraged his men to go {212} forward; that he had not charged them to fill up the bridges and bad passes--if he had done so, he (the Treasurer) and his company would have done it; and, moreover, that Cortes had not cleared the causeway in time of his Indian allies. Thus they argued and disputed with one another; for hardly any one is generous, in defeat, to those with whom he has acted. Indeed, a generosity of this kind, which will not allow a man to comment severely upon the errors of his comrades in misfortune, is so rare a virtue, that it scarcely seems to belong to this planet. "There was little time, however, for altercation, and Cortes was not the man to indulge in more of that luxury for the unfortunate than human nature demanded. He had received no tidings of what had befallen the Camp of Tlacuba, and thither he despatched Sandoval, embracing him and saying, 'Look you, since you see that I cannot go to all parts, I commend these labors to you, for, as you perceive, I am wounded and lame. I implore you, take charge of these three camps. I well know that Pedro de Alvarado and his soldiers will have behaved themselves as cavaliers, but I fear lest the great force of those dogs should have routed them.' "The scene now changes to the ground near Alvarado's camp. Sandoval succeeded in making his way there, and arrived about the hour of Vespers. He found the men of that division in the act of repelling a most vigorous attack on the part of the Mexicans, who had hoped that night to penetrate into the camp and carry off all the Spaniards for sacrifice. The enemy were better armed than usual, some of them using the weapons which they had taken from the soldiers of Cortez. At last, after a severe conflict, {213} in which Sandoval himself was wounded, and in which the cannon shots did not suffice to break the serried ranks of the Mexicans, the Spaniards gained their quarters, and, being under shelter, had some respite from the fury of the Mexican attack. "There, Sandoval, Pedro de Alvarado, and the other principal captains, were standing together and relating what had occurred to each of them, when, suddenly, the sound of the sacrificial drum was heard again, accompanied by other musical instruments of a similar dolorous character. From the Camp of Tlacuba the great Temple was perfectly visible, and the Spaniards looked up at it for the interpretation of these melancholy tones; they saw their companions driven by blows and buffetings up to the place of sacrifice. The white-skinned Christians were easily to be distinguished amidst the dusky groups that surrounded them. When the unhappy men about to be sacrificed had reached the lofty level space on which these abominations were wont to be committed, it was discerned by their friends and late companions that plumes of feathers were put upon the heads of many of them, and that men, whose movements in the distance appeared like those of winnowers, made the captive dance before the image of Huitzilopochtli. When the dance was concluded, the victims were placed upon the sacrificial stones; their hearts were taken out and offered to the idols; and their bodies hurled down the steps of the temple. At the bottom of the steps stood 'other butchers' who cut off the arms and legs of the victims, intending to eat these portions of their enemy. The skin of the face with the beard was preserved. The rest of the body was thrown to the lions, tigers, and serpents. 'Let the curious {214} reader consider,' says the chronicler, 'what pity we must have had for these, our companions, and how we said to one another, 'Oh, thanks be to God, that they did not carry me off to-day to sacrifice me.' And certainly no army ever looked on a more deplorable sight. "There was no time, however, for such contemplation: for, at that instant, numerous bands of warriors attacked the Spaniards on all sides, and fully occupied their attention in the preservation of their own lives. "Modern warfare has lost one great element of the picturesque in narrative, namely, in there being no interchange, now, of verbal threats and menaces between the contending parties; but in those days it was otherwise, and the Mexicans were able to indulge in the most fierce and malignant language. 'Look,' they said, 'that is the way in which all of you have to die, for our Gods have promised this to us many times.' To the Tlascalans their language was more insulting and much more minutely descriptive. Throwing to them the roasted flesh of their companions and of the Spanish soldiers, they shouted, 'Eat of the flesh of these _teules_, and of your brethren, for we are quite satiated with it; and, look you, for the houses you have pulled down, we shall have to make you build in their place much better ones with stone and plates of metal, likewise with hewn stone and lime; and the houses will be painted. Wherefore continue to assist these _teules_ all of whom you will see sacrificed.' "The Mexicans, however, did not succeed in carrying off any more Spaniards for sacrifice that night. The Spanish camp had some few hours of repose, and some time to reckon up their losses, which were very {215} considerable. They lost upward of sixty of their own men, six horses, two cannon, and a great number of their Indian allies. Moreover the brigantines had not fared much better on this disastrous day than the land forces. But the indirect consequences of this defeat were still more injurious than the actual losses. The allies from the neighboring cities on the lake deserted the Spaniards, nearly to a man. The Mexicans regained and strengthened most of their positions; and the greatest part of the work of the besiegers seemed as if it would have to be done over again. Even the Tlascalans, hitherto so faithful, despaired of the fortunes of their allies, and could not but believe, with renewed terror, in the potency of the Mexican deities, kindred to, if not identical with, their own." XIV. The Last Mexican The courage of the Aztecs was beyond all question. Their heroism awakens a thrill of admiration, although we are fully aware of their fearful and ferocious and degrading religious rites. Again and again the heart-sick Spaniards saw lifted up before the hideous gods on the temple pyramids, the white, naked bodies of their unfortunate comrades who had been captured for that awful sacrifice. Both parties were wrought up to a pitch of furious rage. No valor, no heroism, no courage, no devotion could prevail against thirst, hunger, smallpox, pestilence, the fever of besieged towns, with the streets filled with unburied dead. On August 13, 1521, the city fell. There was no formal surrender, the last defender had been killed. The old, weak and feeble were left. Only a small portion of the city, the {216} cheapest and poorest part, was left standing. Into this ghastly street rode the Spaniards. Where was Guatemoc? A wretched, haggard, worn, starved figure, having done all that humanity could do, and apparently more, in the defence of his land, he had striven to escape in a canoe on the lake. One of the brigantines overhauled him. The commander was about to make way with the little party when some one informed him that the principal captive was no less than Guatemotzin. The unfortunate young emperor, after vainly trying to persuade Garcia Holguin to kill him then and there, demanded to be led to Cortes. He found that great captain on one of the house-tops, watching the slaughter of the men and women and children by the furious Tlascalans who were at last feeding fat their revenge by indiscriminate massacre. "Deal with me as you please," said the broken-hearted Mexican, as he touched the dagger which hung by Cortes's side. "Kill me at once," he implored. He had no wish to survive the downfall of his empire, the devastation of his city, and the annihilation of his people. Cortes spared his life and at first treated him generously. He afterward marred his reputation by yielding him and the Cacique of Tlacuba to torture at the urgent and insistent demand of the soldiery. There was no treasure found in the city. It had been spirited away or else buried forever beneath the ruins of the town.[13] The soldiers, their greed for treasure excited, insisted upon the torture of the noble Guatemoc and his comrade. The Cacique of Tlacuba, unable through weakness to sustain the torture, which consisted of burning the soles of their feet with boiling {217} oil, broke into lamenting reproaches, some of them addressed to the emperor. "And am I taking pleasure in my bath, do you think?" proudly replied the young chief, while the soles of his feet were being immersed in the same dreadful cauldron. He was lame and more or less helpless for the rest of his life. I have no doubt that he often wished that he had been cut down in the final moment of his defeat. He dragged on a miserable existence until Cortes put him to death by hanging several years after the conquest while in Honduras on an expedition. The charge against him, so Cortes writes to Charles V., was conspiracy. The evidence was flimsy enough, yet it is probable that Cortes believed it. The expedition was far from Mexico, surrounded by hostile nations, and Cortes, as usual, was in great danger. Helps thus describes the bitter end of the noble young emperor: "When led to execution, the King of Mexico exclaimed, 'O Malinche, I have long known the falseness of your words, and have foreseen that you would give me that death which, alas! I did not give myself, when I surrendered to you in my city of Mexico. Wherefore do you slay me without justice? May God demand it of you!' "The King of the Tlacuba said that he looked upon his death as welcome, since he was able to die with his Lord, the King of Mexico. After confession and absolution, the two kings were hanged upon a ceyba tree in Izzancanac, in the province of Acalan, on one of the carnival days before Shrovetide, in the year 1525. Thus ended the great Mexican dynasty--itself a thing compacted by so much blood and toil and {218} suffering of countless human beings. The days of deposed monarchs--victims alike to the zeal of their friends and the suspicions of their captors--are mostly very brief; and perhaps it is surprising that the King of Mexico should have survived as long as four years the conquest of his capital, and have been treated during the greater part of that time with favor and honor. "Some writers have supposed that Cortes was weary of his captives, and wished to destroy them, and that the charge of conspiracy was fictitious. Such assertions betray a total ignorance of the character of this great Spaniard. Astute men seldom condescend to lying. Now, Cortes was not only very astute, but, according to his notions, highly honorable. A genuine hidalgo, and a thoroughly loyal man, he would as soon have thought of committing a small theft as of uttering a falsehood in a despatch addressed to his sovereign." XV. The End of Cortes Cortes received a full reward for his conquest, at least for a time. He was received in high favor by Charles V., whom he visited in Spain, and who made him Marques of the Valley of Mexico. "There is on record a single sentence of the Emperor's that must have been addressed to Cortes in some private interview, which shows the gracious esteem in which he was held by his sovereign. Borrowing a metaphor from the archery-ground, and gracefully, as it seems, alluding to a former misappreciation of the services of Cortes, the Emperor said that he wished to deal with him as those who contend with the crossbow, whose first shots go wide of the mark, and then {219} they improve and improve, until they hit the centre of the white. So, continued His Majesty, he wished to go on until he had shot into the white of what should be done to reward the Marquis' deserts; and meanwhile nothing was to be taken from him which he then held. "It was very pleasing to find that Cortes did not forget his old friends the Tlascalans, but dwelt on their services, and procured from the Emperor an order that they should not be given _encomienda_ to His Majesty, or to any other person." The only reward the Tlascalans got from the Emperor was that, when the other Mexicans were made slaves, they were left at least nominally free, but their republic soon fell into decay and the city in which they had so proudly maintained themselves in their independence, became a desolate ruin. A dirty and squalid village to-day marks the place. Marina, who had served the Spaniards for the love of the great captain with such fidelity and such success, was cast off by Cortes and compelled to marry one of his officers, whom she scarcely knew. This crushed her spirit. She abandoned her husband and sank into wretched and miserable obscurity, and died at an early age of a broken heart. Cortes conducted other expeditions, most of them without any great success, as that to Honduras, where he hanged the last of the Aztec Kings. Jealousy arose in the great state which he had founded, and he fell out of favor with the Emperor, who refused to see him, and he was received with cold and bitter reproaches by his wife, whom he married after the death of his former wife, and who had never proved a comfort to him. An admirable marriage which {220} he had arranged for his daughter with one of the highest nobility of Spain failed, his last days were sad and miserable, and he died old, lonely and broken-hearted. I again quote Helps concerning these closing scenes: "The poets say, 'Care sits behind a man and follows him wherever he goes.' So does ill-success; and henceforward the life of Cortes was almost invariably unsuccessful. There is an anecdote told of him (resting upon no higher authority than that of Voltaire) which, although evidently untrue, tells in a mythical way the reception which Cortes met at the Spanish Court; and his feelings as regards that reception. "One day he broke through the crowd which surrounded the carriage of the Emperor and jumped on the step. "'Who are you?' asked the Emperor in astonishment. "'I am the man,' replied Cortes fiercely, 'who has given you more provinces than your ancestors have left you cities.' "Quitting fiction, however, and returning to fact, there is a letter extant addressed by Cortes to the Emperor, Charles V., which conveys more forcibly than even a large extent of narrative could do, the troubles, vexations, and disappointments which Cortes had to endure at this latter period of his life, and his feelings with regard to them. It is one of the most touching letters ever written by a subject to a sovereign. I will here translate some of it, greatly condensing those parts of the letter which relate to the business in hand, and which would be as wearisome to the reader to read, as they were to the writer to write; for doubtless, it was not the first time, by many times, {221} that Cortes had set down the same grievance in writing. The letter bears date, Valladolid, the 3rd. of February, 1544. It begins thus:-- "'Sacred Cesarian Catholic Majesty:--I thought that having labored in my youth, it would so profit me that in my old age I might have ease and rest; and now it is forty years that I have been occupied in not sleeping, in eating ill, and sometimes eating neither well nor ill, in bearing armor, in placing my person in danger, in spending my estates and my life, all in the service of God, bringing sheep into his sheep-fold--which were very remote from our hemisphere, unknown, and whose names are not written in our writings--also increasing and making broad the name and patrimony of my King--gaining for him, and bringing under his yoke and Royal sceptre, many and very great kingdoms and many barbarous nations, all won by my own person, and at my own expense; without being assisted in anything, on the contrary, being much hindered by many jealous and evil and envious persons who, like leeches, have been filled to bursting with my blood.' "He then proceeds to say that for the part which God has had in his labors and watchings he is sufficiently paid, because it was His work; and it was not without a reason that Providence was pleased that so great a work should be accomplished by so weak a medium, in order that it might be seen that to God alone the good work must be attributed. "Cortes then says that for what he has done for the King, he has always been satisfied with the remuneration he has received. The King has been grateful to him, has honored him, and has rewarded him, and he adds that His Majesty knows that the rewards {222} and honors which the Emperor offered were, in the opinion of Cortes, so far greater than his merits, that he refused to receive them. "What, however, His Majesty did mean him to receive, he has not received. That which His Majesty has given has been so completely without fruit, that it would have been better for Cortes not to have had it, but that he should have taken care of his own estate, and not spent the fruit of that in defending himself against 'the Fiscal of Your Majesty, which defence has been, and is, a more difficult undertaking than to win the land of the enemy.' "He then implores His Majesty that he will be pleased to render clear the good will which he had shown to reward him. 'I see myself,' he exclaims, 'old, poor and indebted. Not only have I no repose in my old age, but I can foresee labor and trouble until my death.' And he adds, 'Please God that the mischief may not go beyond death; but may finish with the body, and not exist forever, since whosoever has such toil in defending his bodily estate, cannot avoid injuring his soul.' "All that he asks is that his appeal may be heard; that members of the King's Council be added to the Council of the Indies; and that the cause may be determined, and judgment given, without further delay. 'For, otherwise, I must leave it and loose it, and must return to my home, as I am no longer of the age to go about to hostelries; and should withdraw myself to make my account clear with God, since it is a large one that I have, and little life is left to me to discharge my conscience; and it will be better for me to lose my estate than my soul.' He concludes by saying that 'he is of Your Catholic Majesty the {223} very humble servant and vassal, who kisses your very royal feet and hands--the Marquis del Valle.' "In addition to these vexations he had a domestic trouble which doubtless caused him much mortification. His daughter, Donna Maria, was engaged to one of the greatest nobles in Spain; but ultimately the young man refused to fulfil the engagement. Some say that this caused the death of Cortes. But this is not so. He was broken, alike in health and in spirits, by reason of the many reverses he had met with in these his latter days. "We live, to a great measure, upon success; and there is no knowing the agony that an unvarying course of ill-success causes to a sanguine and powerful mind which feels that, if only such and such small obstacles were removed out of its way, it could again shine forth with all its pristine force and brightness. "To meet this rejected daughter, who was coming from New Spain, Cortes went to Seville. There he was taken ill, and, being molested by the importunity of many persons who came to see him on business, he retired to a small village, about half a league from Seville, called Castillaje de la Cuesta. He also sought retirement for the purpose, as Bernal Diaz says, of making his will and preparing his soul for death. 'And when he had settled his worldly affairs, our Lord Jesus Christ was pleased to take him from his troublesome world.' He died on the 2nd of December, 1547, being then sixty-two years of age." His bones were interred in Mexico. During the civil wars of the last century, his bones were taken away and hidden. It is reported that only the other day the place of his sepulchre had been discovered. Some monument to his memory should be erected to {224} match the statue of Guatemoc, which is one of the principal adornments of Mexico. As is well said by William H. Johnson: "To the honor of Spain be it said, her rule in Mexico was firm and kind. The Indians became thoroughly incorporated into the national life, enjoying the opportunities of advancement as Spaniards. In the present Republic of Mexico the greatest name has been that of Benito Juarez, the president who upheld the national cause during the French-Austrian usurpation. He was of pure Aztec blood. Porfirio Diaz, the gallant soldier who led the army of the Republic during the same trying period, and who, as its president, is a model of a strong and wise ruler, is also, in part, a descendant of the ancient race." With the following tributes to the great captain the story of his amazing adventures is ended. Says Helps: "He was the mighty conqueror of one of the most compact and well-ordered barbaric nations of the world--a conqueror who, with a few hundreds of his fellow-countrymen, not all of them his partisans, overcame hundreds of thousands of fanatic and resolute men fighting against him with immense resources, and with a resolution nearly equal to his own. Let us give him the benefit of his sincere belief in Christianity, and his determination to substitute that beneficent religion for the hideous and cruel superstition of the people he was resolved to conquer. And let us echo the wish of that good common soldier, Bernal Diaz, who, though having his grievances against Cortes, as all of the other _Conquistadores_ thought they had, could yet, after watching every turn in the fortunes of the great Marquis, and knowing almost every sin {225} that he had committed, write most tenderly of the great captain whose plume he had so often followed to victory. "After saying that, subsequently to the conquest of Mexico, Cortes had not had good fortune either in his Californian or his Honduras expedition, or indeed in anything else he had undertaken, Bernal Diaz adds, 'Perhaps it was that he might have felicity in heaven. And I believe it was so, for he was an honorable cavalier, and a devoted worshipper of the Virgin, the Apostle St. Peter and other Saints. May God pardon his sins, and mine too, and give me a righteous ending, which things are of more concern than the conquests and victories that we had over the Indians.'" Writes MacNutt: "His sagacity, his foresight, and his moderation have caused critical historians to rank him higher as a statesman than as a soldier. In virtue of his pre-eminent qualities both as a statesman and as a general, as well as because of the enduring importance of his conquest, Fernando Cortes occupies an uncontested place amongst the heroes of the nations." However we may sympathize with the Aztecs, we cannot escape from the fact that it was much better that there should be a Spanish rule instead of an Aztec rule in Mexico, and that the civilization of the former should supplant the so-called civilization of the latter. That does not prevent us from wishing that the supersession might not have been so harsh and ruthless, but in view of the times, and the men, both Aztecs and Christians, it was not to be expected. Personally, I love the memory of Guatemoc for his heroism and his devotion. I also have a warm feeling {226} for Cortes. It is true, as has been stated, that he was a child of his age, but he was the best child of his age, and it was not his fault altogether that in some respects it was the worst age. The Spanish rule in Mexico was better than the Spanish rule in Peru, and Cortes and his successors, by the side of Pizarro and his successors, were almost angels of light. I close with these noble words of John Fiske in his great and highly valued _Discovery of North America_: "A great deal of sentimental ink has been shed over the wickedness of the Spaniards in crossing the ocean and attacking people who had never done them any harm, overturning and obliterating a 'splendid civilization,' and more to the same effect. It is undeniable that unprovoked aggression is an extremely hateful thing, and many of the circumstances attendant upon the Spanish conquest in America were not only heinous in their atrocity, but were emphatically condemned, as we shall presently see, by the best moral standards of the sixteenth century. Yet if we are to be guided by strict logic, it would be difficult to condemn the Spaniards for the mere act of conquering Mexico without involving in the same condemnation our own forefathers who crossed the ocean and overran the territory of the United States with small regard for the proprietary rights of Algonquins, or Iroquois, or red men of any sort. Our forefathers, if called upon to justify themselves, would have replied that they were founding Christian states and diffusing the blessings of a higher civilization; and such, in spite of much alloy in the motives and imperfection in the performance, was certainly the case. Now if we would not lose or distort the historical perspective, we must bear in mind that the Spanish conquerors would have returned {227} exactly the same answer. If Cortes were to return to the world and pick up some history book in which he is described as a mere picturesque adventurer, he would feel himself very unjustly treated. He would say that he had higher aims than those of a mere fighter and gold-hunter; and so doubtless he had. In the complex tangle of motives that actuated the mediaeval Spaniard--and in his peninsula we may apply the term mediaeval to later dates than would be proper in France or Italy--the desire of extending the dominion of the Church was a very real and powerful incentive to action. The strength of the missionary and crusading spirit in Cortes is seen in the fact that where it was concerned, and there only, was he liable to let zeal overcome prudence. "There can be no doubt that, after making all allowances, the Spaniards did introduce a better state of society into Mexico than they found there. It was high time that an end should be put to those hecatombs of human victims, slashed, torn open and devoured on all the little occasions of life. It sounds quite pithy to say that the Inquisition, as conducted in Mexico, was as great an evil as the human sacrifices and the cannibalism; but it is not true. Compared with the ferocious barbarism of ancient Mexico, the contemporary Spanish modes of life were mild, and this, I think, helps further to explain the ease with which the country was conquered. In a certain sense the prophecy of Quetzalcoatl was fulfilled and the coming of the Spaniards did mean the final dethronement of the ravening Tezcatlipoca. The work of the noble Franciscan and Dominican monks who followed closely upon Cortes, and devoted their lives to the spiritual welfare of the Mexicans, is a more attractive {228} subject than any picture of military conquest. To this point I shall return hereafter, when we come to consider the sublime character of Las Casas. For the present we may conclude in the spirit of one of the noble Spanish historians, Pedro de Cieza de Leon, and praise God, that the idols are cast down." [1] Cortes applies this name to the province in which the city, called by him Temixtitan, more properly Tenochtitlan, but now Mexico, was situated. Throughout this article the curious spelling of the great conqueror is retained as he wrote. [2] This is the plant known in this country under the name of the _Century Plant_, which is still much cultivated in Mexico for the purposes mentioned by Cortes. It usually flowers when eight or ten years old. [3] The original has the word _Mesquitas_, mosques; but as the term is applied in English exclusively to Mohammedan places of worship, one of more general application is used in the translation. [4] The title invariably given to Muteczuma (or Montezuma) in these dispatches is simply Señor, in its sense of Lord or (to use an Indian word) Cacique; which is also given to the chiefs or governors of districts or provinces, whether independent or feudatories. The title of Emperador (Emperor), how generally applied to the Mexican ruler, is never conferred on him by Cortes, nor any other implying royality, although in the beginning of this despatch, he assures Charles V. that the country is extensive enough to constitute an empire. [5] Two hundred and fifty pounds weight. [6] I am not ignorant that it has been asserted that Montezuma received the rite of baptism at the hands of his Christian captors. See Bustamante's notes on Chimalpain's Translation of Gomara (_Historia de las Conquistas de Hernando Cortes_. Carlos Maria de Bustamante. Mexico, 1826, p. 287). But the objection raised by Torquemada--the silence of some of the best authorities, such as Oviedo, Ixlilxochitl, _Histoire des Chichimeques_, and of Cortes himself; and, on the other hand, the distinctly opposing testimony of Bernal Diaz (see cap. 127), and the statement of Herrera, who asserts that Montezuma, at the hour of his death, refused to quit the religion of his fathers. ("No se queria apartar de la Religion de sus Padres." _Hist. de las Indias_, dec. II. lib. x, cap. 10), convinces me that no such baptism took place. [7] These gates they had made themselves. The Aztecs had not learned the art of making gates or doors. The exits and entrances of their houses were closed, if at all with portières. [8] It is growing very old and is badly decayed. The newspapers report that efforts are being made by experts to try a course of treatment which will preserve this venerable and interesting forest relic, already nearly four hundred years old, but it is not believed that success will attend their endeavors. [9] "Tlaltelulco" was the quarter of the town where the market was situated. [10] Archbishop Lorenzana, in his note on this passage, greatly extols the pious fervor of Cortes, who, he says, "whether in the field or on the causeway, in the midst of the enemy or toiling by night or day," never omitted the celebration of the mass. [11] They were Andres de Tapia and George de Alvarado, a brother of the more famous Pedro, Tonatiuh. [12] Antonio de Quinones was the captain and Francisco de Olea, the youth, according to Gomara; who says that the latter cut off at one blow the arms of the men that had seized Cortes, and was himself immediately slain by the enemy. Cortes was then rescued by Quinones.--_Cron. Nuev. Esp._ cap., 138. [13] I wonder where it is! There may be a great amount of it somewhere. {231} PART II OTHER TALES OF ADVENTURE I The Yarn of the _Essex_, Whaler Among marine disasters there is none more extraordinary in character or more appalling in consequence, than the loss of the whaleship _Essex_. The _Essex_ was a well-found whaler of two hundred and thirty-eight tons. James Pollard was her captain, with Owen Chase and Matthew Joy as mates. Six of her complement of twenty were Negroes. Thoroughly overhauled and provisioned for two and one-half years, on the 17th of August, 1819, she took her departure from Nantucket. On the 17th of January, 1820, she reached St. Mary's Island, off the coast of Chili, near Conception, a noted whaling ground. They cruised off these coasts for some time, being lucky enough to take several large whales, and finally, the season being over, having about one thousand barrels of oil in the hold, they struck boldly westward. On the 16th of November, being a few minutes south of the line in Long. 118 degrees W., a school of sperm whales was sighted, and three boats were lowered in chase. Chase, the mate--the first mate is always the mate _par excellence_--soon got fast to a huge bull-whale who, when he felt the deadly harpoon in his vitals, swiftly turned and struck the whale-boat a terrific blow with his tail, smashing it into kindling wood and hurling the men in every direction. After that {232} splendid exhibition of power, he got away scot-free save for the rankling iron and the dangling line which he took with him. The boat's crew were picked up, no one being much the worse for the encounter, strange to say, and were brought back to the ship by the other boats. On the 20th of November, being then just about 40 minutes south of the equator, and in Long. 119 degrees W., at eight o'clock in the morning the lookout at the masthead shouted the welcome signal: "There she blows!" It was evident that they were in the presence of a large school. The ship was headed toward them, and when within half a mile the mainyard was backed, and three boats, under the charge of the captain and the first and second mates, respectively, were lowered. Their only other boat was a spare one, lashed amidships on chocks. Arriving at the spot where they had been sighted at the ship, the men discovered that the whales had sounded and vanished. The boats, thereupon, separated widely, and the men lay on their oars and waited. Presently a great bull rose lazily, spouting in front of the mate's boat, and lay idly wallowing in the tumbling sea. Approaching cautiously, the harpooneer drove in the terrible weapon. In his agony, the great cetacean, instead of sounding, threw himself blindly toward the boat. So close were they, and so unexpected was the whale's movement in spite of his vast bulk, that, although the order, "Stern all!" had been promptly given, they were unable to win clear of him. The tip of his massive tail, as he thrashed about in his rage, struck the side of the light, clinker-built boat and smashed a hole in it. Then the whale started to run, towing the boat, which {233} immediately began to fill with water under the terrible drag to which it was subjected. There was nothing to do but cut the line. Two or three jackets were stuffed into the aperture, and while some bailed, the others rowed back to the ship. The captain's and second mate's boats, meanwhile, were seeking the school, which had risen and was swimming away from the ship. As soon as the wrecked boat was run up to the davits, the mate swung the mainyard and got under way, following the other boats. He first determined to break out the spare boat, but after investigating the damaged boat, he concluded that he could save time by nailing a patch of canvas over the broken place, which would serve temporarily to keep out the water, in case they went in search of another whale in her. While he was about this, an immense sperm-whale, about eighty-five feet long, "breached"--that is, coming from a great depth, he shot out of the water his whole length and then fell back with a tremendous splash--about fifty fathoms from the ship. After he fell back, he spouted three or four times, sounded, and once more appeared, this time about a ship's length off the weather bow of the Essex. Evidently, it was the whale they had just struck. He was angry, and he meant business, for as soon as he came to the surface he started for the ship. Under the light air the vessel was making about three knots. The whale was going at the same speed. The mate saw at once that if he did not change his course, the whale would strike his ship. Dropping the hammer, he shouted to the boy at the helm to put it hard up, and himself sprang across the deck to reënforce his order. The unwieldy ship paid off slowly, {234} and before her head had been fairly turned to leeward the whale deliberately rammed her right under the forechains. The concussion was terrible. The ship came to a dead stop, as if she had run upon a rock, while the whale bumped along under the keel. Some of those aboard were thrown to the deck. The masts quivered and buckled under the shock, but fortunately nothing was carried away. The onset was so unexpected that the men were dazed for a moment. When the mate recovered his wits, he immediately sounded the well, and found that the ship was leaking badly. He then ordered the men to the pumps, and set signals for the recall of the boats, each of which had got fast to a whale. [Illustration: "The Ship Came to a Dead Stop"] In spite of all they could do, the ship began settling rapidly by the head. She was badly stove in, and making water fast. While some of the men toiled at the pumps, others cleared away the extra boat. There was no longer time to repair the other. At this juncture one of the men discovered the same whale about two hundred and fifty fathoms to leeward. He was in a fit of convulsive rage terrible to look upon; leaping, turning, writhing, threshing about in the water, beating it with his mighty tail and great flukes, thundering upon it with all his force, and all the while opening and shutting his enormous jaws, "smiting them together," in the words of the mate, as if distracted with wrath and fury. There was no time to watch the whale in the exigency of their peril, and observing him start out with great velocity to cross the bows of the ship to leeward, the men turned their attention to the more serious duty at the pumps and the boat. But a few moments had {235} elapsed, when another man forward observed the whale again. [Illustration: "The Killing of Alexander Hamilton by Aaron Burr, at Weehawken, New Jersey, July 11, 1804"] "Here he is!" he shouted. "He's making for us again." The great cachalot was now directly ahead, about two hundred fathoms away, and coming down upon them with twice his ordinary speed. The surf flew in all directions about him. "His course was marked by a white foam a rod in width which he made with the continual thrashing of this tail." His huge head, boneless but almost as solid and as hard as the inside of a horse's hoof, most admirably designed for a battering-ram, was almost half out of the water. The mate made one desperate attempt to get out of his way. Again the helm was put up and the men ran to the braces, but the water-laden ship, already well down by the head, and more sluggish than ever, had fallen off only one point when the whale leaped upon her with demoniac energy, and--so it appeared to the seamen--rammed her with maleficent passion. This time he struck the ship just under the weather cathead. He was going not less than six knots an hour to the ship's three, and the force of the blow completely stove in the bows of the _Essex_. Those on board could feel the huge bulk scraping along beneath the keel a second time, and then, having done all the damage he could, he went hurtling off to windward. He had exacted a complete revenge for their attack upon him. Working with the energy of despair, for the ship seemed literally sinking under their feet, the men succeeded in clearing away the spare boat and launching it. The steward saved two quadrants, two Bowditch's "Practical Navigators," the captain's chest and that {236} of the first mate, with two compasses which the mate had snatched from the binnacle. They shoved off, but had scarcely made two lengths from the ship when she fell over to windward and settled low in the water on her beam-ends, a total wreck. The captain and second mate, seeing the signal for the recall of the boats flying, had cut loose from their whales and were rowing toward the ship. They knew something had happened, but what it was, they could not tell. The captain's boat was the first to reach the mate's. He stopped close by, so completely overpowered that for a space he could not utter a syllable. "My God! Mr. Chase," he gasped out at last; "what is the matter?" "We have been stove in by a whale, sir," said the mate, telling the whole appalling story. By the captain's direction, the boats rowed to the sinking ship, and with their hatchets the men managed to cut away the masts, whereupon she rose two-thirds of the way to an even keel. They scuttled the deck--chopped holes through her, that is--and succeeded in coming at some six hundred pounds of unspoiled hard bread, which they divided among the three boats, and sufficient fresh water to give each boat sixty-five gallons in small breakers--being all they dared to take in each one. They also procured a musket, two pistols, some powder and bullets, some tools and six live turtles. From the light spars of the ship they rigged two masts for each boat and with the light canvas provided each one with two spritsails and a jib. They also got some light cedar planking used to repair the boats, and with it built the gunwales up six inches all around. {237} On the 22nd of November, being then in 120 W. Long., and just north of the equator, the officers took counsel together as to what to do. The nearest lands were the Marquesas Islands, fifteen hundred miles away; the Society Islands, twenty-four hundred miles away, and the Sandwich Islands, three thousand miles away. They knew little about the first two groups, save that they were inhabited by fierce and treacherous savages from whom they had as much to fear as from the perils of the sea. The Sandwich Islands were too far away, and they would be apt to meet hurricanes, prevalent at that season, should they attempt to reach them. After a long deliberation they decided to take advantage of the southeast trades by sailing by the wind until they reached the twenty-fifth parallel of south latitude. Then falling in with westerly and variable winds, they could turn east and run for the coast of Chili or Peru. This course involved the longest voyage, but it also promised the greatest chance for success. Sometimes they made good progress with favorable winds. At other times they lay immobile in the blazing tropic sunlight which was almost unbearable. Often they were buffeted by fierce squalls or wild storms, especially as they left the equator. Only the important incidents of their unparalleled voyage can be dwelt upon. Most of the events mentioned happened in the mate's boat, but the experience of the boat epitomes that of the others. The mate's boat was the smallest. He was allotted five men. The other two boats each contained one more man. The men were put on an allowance of one sea-biscuit, weighing about one pound and a quarter, and a pint of water a day. In the mate's boat the provisions were kept in his chest, which he {238} locked. The men behaved in the most exemplary manner. In only one instance did any one ever attempt to steal provisions. They ran into a storm on the 24th, which wet some of their biscuit, and as it was necessary to get rid of the damaged bread as soon as possible, the daily allowance was taken from the spoiled portion exclusively. The soaked biscuit were very salt and greatly increased their thirst. During the long and exhausting voyage, a plank started in the mate's boat, and it was with difficulty that they heeled it over in the water, at the risk of their lives, to get to the place and nail it up. One night the captain's boat was attacked by a species of fish known as a "killer" (Orca), and its bows were stove in. This also they managed to patch up. On December 3rd, they ate the last of the spoiled salt bread, and their relief when they began on the other was amazing. Their thirst was terrible, especially as it became necessary to cut the allowance of food and water in half. They tried from time to time to catch rain water by means of the sails, but the canvas had been so often drenched by the spray that the water they caught was as salt as the sea. One day they caught half a dozen flying fish, which they ate raw. Mr. Chase remarks on the delicacy and daintiness of the mouthfuls which these little fish afforded the starving mariners. They fished for dolphins and porpoises, but they never caught any, perhaps because they had nothing with which to bait the hooks. One day, seeking to alleviate the pangs of thirst by wetting their bodies, three of the men dropped into the water alongside and clung to the gunwale. One of them discovered that the boat's bottom was covered with barnacles. They were {239} ravenously devoured, but proved of little value as food. The men in the water were so weak that had it not been for the efforts of three who had remained in the boat, sceptical as to the utility of the bath, they would never have been able to regain their positions. During all these experiences, discipline was maintained--indeed, it was maintained to the very last. On the 15th of December, they reached Ducie Island, in Long. 124 degrees 40 minutes W., Lat. 24 degrees 40 minutes S., having come some seventeen hundred miles in twenty-three days in these open boats. They landed on the island and found a few shell-fish, birds, and a species of pepper-grass, but no water. The famished men soon consumed everything eatable they could come at on the island. They hunted high and low, but it was not until the 22nd that they found a spring of water. The island was almost desolate. Nothing was to be gained by remaining there, so the majority concluded to sail for Easter Island, some nine hundred miles southward. Three men decided to stay on the island. They all spent a melancholy Christmas there, repairing their boats and filling their water-breakers, and on the 27th the others took their departure. On the 14th of January, 1821, they found that they had been driven to the south of Easter Island, and that it was not practicable to beat up to it. They therefore determined to head for Juan Fernandez--Robinson Crusoe's Island--some two thousand miles southeastward. On the 10th, the second mate, Matthew Joy, died from exposure, and was buried the next morning. On the 12th in the midst of a terrible storm, the boats separated. First we will follow the course of the mate's boat. {240} On the 20th, Peterson, a black man, died and was buried. On the 8th of February, Isaac Cole, a white seaman, died. The men on the boat were by this time in a frightful condition, weak and emaciated to the last degree. Their provisions were almost gone. But two biscuit to a man remained. They were still over a thousand miles from land. They came to a fearful determination. The body of Cole was not buried. They lived on him from the 9th to the 14th. On the 15th and 16th, they consumed the last vestige of their biscuit. On the 17th, driving along at the mercy of wind and wave, for there was not a man strong enough to do anything, they caught sight of the Island of Massafuera. They were helpless to bring the boat near to the Island. Whale-boats were steered by an oar. There was not a single man able to lift an oar. In addition to starvation, thirst, weakness, mental anguish, their legs began to swell with a sort of scurvy, giving them excessive pain. Their condition can scarcely be imagined. The breath of life was there, nothing more. However, they had at last reached the end of their sufferings, for on the morning of the 19th of February, 1821, in Lat. 35 degrees 45 minutes S., Long. 81 degrees 03 minutes W., the three surviving men were picked up by the brig _Indian_, of London, Captain William Crozier. On the 25th of February, they arrived at Valparaiso, ninety-six days and nearly four thousand miles from the sinking of the ship! The other two boats managed to keep together for a little while after they lost sight of the mate's boat. On the 14th of February, provisions in the second mate's boat gave out entirely. On the 15th, Lawson Thomas, a black man, died in that boat and was eaten. {241} The captain's boat ran out of provisions on the 21st. On the 23rd Charles Shorter, another Negro, died in the second mate's boat and was shared between the two boats. On the 27th another black man died from the same boat, furnishing a further meal for the survivors. On the 28th, Samuel Reed, the last black man, died in the captain's boat and was eaten like the rest. Singular that all the Negroes died first! On the 29th, in a storm, these two boats separated. When they parted the second mate's boat had three living white men in her. Nothing was ever heard of her. It might be inferred from the fact that the surviving men had had something to eat, that they were in fair physical condition. That is far from the truth. The men who had died were nothing but skin and bone, and all that the survivors got from their ghastly meals was the bare prolongation of a life which sank steadily to a lower and lower ebb. We may not judge these people too harshly. Hunger and thirst make men mad. They scarcely realized what they did. There was worse to come. On the 1st of February, 1821, being without food or drink of any sort, the four men in the captain's boat cast lots as to which should die for the others. There is something significant of a spirit of fair play and discipline, not without its admirable quality, that under such circumstances, the weaker were not overpowered by the stronger, but that each man had an equal chance for life. The lot fell upon Owen Coffin,[1] the captain's nephew. He did not repine. He expressed his willingness to abide {242} by the decision. No man desired to be his executioner. They cast lots, as before, to determine who should kill him, and the lot fell upon Charles Ramsdale. By him Coffin was shot. Thus they eked out a miserable existence until the 11th of February, when Barzilla Ray died. On the 23rd of February, the two remaining men, the captain and Ramsdale, just on the point of casting lots as to which should have the last poor chance for life, were picked up by the Nantucket whaler, _Dauphin_, Captain Zimri Coffin. They had almost reached St. Mary's Island, ten miles from the coast of Chili. On the 17th of March, these two survivors joined the three from the mate's boat in Valparaiso. In the harbor was the United States frigate, _Constellation_, Captain Charles G. Ridgeley, U. S. N. As soon as her commander heard of the three left on Ducie Island, he arranged with Captain Thomas Raines, of the British merchant ship, _Surrey_, to touch at the island on his voyage to Australia and take off the men. Captain Raines found them still alive, but reduced to the last gasp. Thus of the twenty men, five reached Valparaiso; three were saved on the island, three were lost in the second mate's boat, two died and were buried; six died and were eaten, and one was shot and eaten. So ends this strange tragedy of the sea. [1] A tradition still current in Nantucket has it that the lot fell to the captain, whereupon his nephew, already near death, feeling that he could not survive the afternoon, offered and insisted upon taking his uncle's place. I doubt this. {245} II Some Famous American Duels We are accustomed to regard our country as peculiarly law-abiding and peaceful. This, in spite of the fact that three presidents have been murdered within the last forty-five years, a record of assassination of chief magistrates surpassed in no other land, not even in Russia. We need not be surprised to learn that in no country was the serious duel, the _combat à l'outrance_, so prevalent as in the United States at one period of our national development. The code of honor, so-called, was most profoundly respected by our ancestors; and the number of eminent men who engaged in duelling--and of whom many lost their lives on the field--is astonishing. Scarce any meeting was without its fatal termination, perhaps owing to the fact that pistols and rifles were generally used, and Americans are noted for their marksmanship. There has been a revulsion of public sentiment which has brought about the practical abolition of duelling in America. Although the practice still obtains in continental European countries, it is here regarded as immoral, and it is illegal as well. For one reason, in spite of the apparent contradiction above, we are a law-abiding people. The genius of the Anglo-Saxon--I, who am a Celt, admit it--is for the orderly administration of the law, and much of the evil noted comes from the introduction within our borders {246} of an imperfectly assimilated foreign element which cherishes different views on the subject. Another deterrent cause is a cool common sense which has recognized the futility of trying to settle with blade or bullet differences which belong to the courts; to this may be added a keen sense of humor which has seen the absurdity and laughed the practice out of existence. The freedom of the press has also been a contributing factor. Perhaps the greatest deterrent, however, has been the development of a sense of responsibility for life and its uses to a Higher Power. As General Grant has put it, with the matchless simplicity of greatness: "I do not believe I ever would have the courage to fight a duel. If any man should wrong me to the extent of my being willing to kill him, I should not be willing to give him the choice of weapons with which it should be done, and of the time, place, and distance separating us when I executed him. If I should do any other such a wrong as to justify him in killing me, I would make any reasonable atonement within my power, if convinced of the wrong done." With this little preliminary, I shall briefly review a few of the most noted duels in our history. I. A Tragedy of Old New York On Wednesday, the 11th of July, 1804, at seven o'clock on a bright, sunny, summer morning, two men, pistol in hand, confronted each other on a narrow shelf of rocky ground jutting out from the cliffs that overlook the Hudson at Weehawken, on the Jersey shore. One was a small, slender man, the other taller and more imposing in appearance. Both had been soldiers; each faced the other in grave quietude, {247} without giving outward evidence of any special emotion. One was at that time the Vice-president of the United States; the other had been Secretary of the Treasury, a general in command of the army, and was the leading lawyer of his time. The Vice-president was brilliantly clever; the ex-Secretary was a genius of the first order. A political quarrel had brought them to this sorry position. Words uttered in the heat of campaign, conveying not so much a personal attack as a well-merited public censure, had been dwelt upon until the Vice-president had challenged his political antagonist. The great attorney did not believe in duels. He was a Christian, a man of family; he had everything to lose and little to gain from this meeting. Upon his great past he might hope to build an even greater future. He was possessed of sufficient moral courage to refuse the meeting, but had, nevertheless, deliberately accepted the other's challenge. It is believed that he did so from a high and lofty motive; that he felt persuaded of the instability of the Government which he had helped to found, and that he realized that he possessed qualities which in such a crisis would be of rare service to his adopted country. His future usefulness, he thought--erroneously, doubtless, but he believed it--would be impaired if any one could cast a doubt upon his courage by pointing to the fact that he had refused a challenge. Thirty months before, his son, a bright lad of eighteen, fresh from Columbia College, had been shot dead in a duel which he had brought upon himself by resenting a public criticism of his father. He had fallen on that very spot where his father stood. I think that {248} the tragedy must have been in the great statesman's mind that summer morning. The word was given. The two pistols were discharged. The Vice-president, taking deliberate aim, fired first. The ex-Secretary of the Treasury, who had previously stated to his second that he did not intend to fire at his adversary, discharged his pistol in the air. He had been hit by the bullet of his enemy, and did not know that as he fell, by a convulsive movement, he had pulled the trigger of the weapon in his hand. That was the end--for he died the next day after lingering agonies--of Alexander Hamilton, the greatest intellect and one of the greatest personalities associated with the beginning of this Government. It was also the end of his successful antagonist, Aaron Burr, for thereafter he was a marked man, an avoided, a hated man. When abroad in 1808, he gave Jeremy Bentham an account of the duel, and said that he "was sure of being able to kill him." "And so," replied Bentham, "I thought it little better than a murder." "Posterity," the historian adds, "will not be likely to disturb the judgment of the British philosopher." II. Andrew Jackson as a Duellist Comparatively speaking, the next great duel on my list attracted little more than local attention at the time. Years after, when one of them who took part in it had risen to national fame, and was a candidate for the Presidency, it was revived and made much of. On Friday, the 30th of May, 1806, Charles Dickinson, a young man of brilliant abilities, born in Maryland and residing in Tennessee, met Andrew Jackson, of the {249} latter state, near the banks of a small stream called the Red River, in a sequestered woodland glade in Logan County, Ky., a day's ride from Nashville. Unwittingly, and with entire innocence on the part of both parties, Andrew Jackson had placed his wife in an equivocal position by marrying her before a divorce had separated her from her husband[1]. Absolutely no blame, except, perhaps, a censure for carelessness, attaches to Jackson or his wife, and their whole life together was an example of conjugal affection. However, his enemies--and he had many--found it easy to strike at him through this unfortunate episode. There did not live a more implacable and unforgiving man, when his wife was slandered, than Andrew Jackson. Dickinson, who was a political rival, spoke slurringly of Mrs. Jackson. He apologized for it on the plea that he had been in his cups at the time, but Jackson never forgave him. A political difference as an ostensible cause of quarrel soon developed. Dickinson sent a challenge which was gladly accepted. The resulting duel was probably the most dramatic that ever occurred in the United States. Dickinson was a dead shot. So, for that matter, was Jackson, but Dickinson was remarkable for the quickness of his fire, while Jackson was slower. The arrangements stipulated that the combatants should be placed at the close distance of eight paces; that the word "fire!" should be given, after which each was to fire one shot at will. Rather than be hurried and have his aim disturbed, Jackson determined to sustain Dickinson's fire and then return it at his leisure. {250} "What if he kills you or disables you?" asked his second. "Sir," replied Jackson deliberately, "I shall kill him though he should hit me in the brain!" This is no gasconade or bravado, but simply an evidence of an intensity of purpose, of which no man ever had a greater supply than Andrew Jackson. Dickinson fired instantly the word was given. A fleck of dust arose from the loose coat which covered the spare form of the General, but he stood apparently untouched. Dickinson, amazed, shrank back from the peg indicating his position. Old General Overton, Jackson's second, raised his pistol. "Back to the mark, sir!" he thundered, as the unhappy young man exclaimed in dismay. "Great God! Have I missed him?" Dickinson recovered himself immediately, stepped back to the mark, and folded his arms to receive Jackson's fire. The hammer of the Tennesseean's pistol stopped at half-cock. He deliberately re-cocked his weapon, took careful aim again, and shot Dickinson through the body. Seeing his enemy fall, Jackson turned and walked away. It was not until he had gone one hundred yards from the duelling ground and was hidden by the thick poplar trees, that his second noticed that one of his shoes was filled with blood. Dickinson had hit the General in the breast, inflicting a severe wound, and might have killed him had not the bullet glanced on a rib. The iron-nerved Jackson declared that his reason for concealing his wound was that he did not intend to give Dickinson the satisfaction of knowing that he had hit his enemy before he died. Twenty-two years after, as Jackson stood by his dead wife's body, he "lifted his cane as if appealing to {251} heaven, and by a look commanding silence, said, slowly and painfully, and with a voice full of bitter tears: "'In the presence of this dear saint I can and do forgive all my enemies. But those vile wretches who have slandered her must look to God for mercy!'" III. The Killing of Stephen Decatur The idol of the American Navy was Stephen Decatur. James Barron, a disgraced officer under suspension for his lack of conduct during the famous affair between the British ship _Leopard_ and the American ship _Chesapeake_, had taken no part in the war of 1812, for causes which afforded him sufficient excuse; but subsequently he sought re-employment in the navy. Decatur, who had been one of the court which tried and sentenced him before the war, and who was now a naval commissioner, opposed his plea. The situation brought forth a challenge from Barron. Decatur was under no necessity of meeting it. As commissioner, he was in effect, Barron's superior, and Washington had laid down a rule for General Greene's guidance in a similar case that a superior officer is not amenable to challenge from a junior officer whom he has offended in course of duty. The principle is sound common sense, as everybody, even duellists, will admit. Nevertheless, such was the state of public opinion about questions of "honor" that Decatur felt constrained to accept the challenge. The two naval officers met on the duelling ground at Bladensburg, "the cockpit of Washington duellists," on the 22nd of March, 1820. Barron was near-sighted, and insisted upon a closer distance than the usual ten paces. They were placed a scant eight {252} paces apart. Decatur, who was a dead shot, did not wish to kill Barron; at the same time he did not deem it safe to stand his adversary's fire without return. Therefore he stated to his second that he would shoot Barron in the hip. Before the duel, Barron expressed the hope that if they met in another world they might be better friends. Decatur replied gravely that he had never been Barron's enemy. Under such circumstances it would appear that the quarrel might have been composed without the shedding of blood. At the word "two" the men fired together, Decatur's bullet struck Barron in the hip, inflicting a severe but not mortal wound. At the same instant Barron's bullet passed through Decatur's abdomen, inflicting a wound necessarily fatal then, probably so, even now. As he lay on the ground the great commodore said faintly: "I am mortally wounded--at least, I believe so--and I wish I had fallen in defence of my country." He died at ten o'clock that night, regretted by all who love brave men the world over. IV. An Episode in the Life of James Bowie Of a different character, but equally interesting, was an encounter in August, 1829, which has become famous because of one of the weapons used with deadly effect. On an island in the Mississippi River, opposite Natchez, which was nothing but a sand bar with some undergrowth upon it, a party of men met to witness and second a duel between a Dr. Maddox and one Samuel Wells. The spectators were all interested in one or the other combatant, and had taken part in a neighborhood feud which arose out of a speculation in land. {253} The two principals exchanged two shots without injury, whereupon the seconds and spectators, unable to restrain their animosity, started a free fight. Judge Crane, of Mississippi, was the leader on one side; James Bowie, of Georgia, the principal man on the other. Crane was armed with a brace of duelling pistols; Bowie had nothing but a knife. Bowie and a friend of his, named Currey, attacked Crane after the Maddox-Wells duel had been abandoned. Crane was wounded in the left arm by a shot from Currey; he thereupon shot Currey dead and with his remaining pistol he wounded Bowie in the groin. Nevertheless, Bowie resolutely came on. Crane struck him over the head with his pistol, felling him to the ground. Undaunted, Bowie scrambled to his feet and made again for Crane. Major Wright, a friend of Crane's, now interposed, and thrust at Bowie with a sword cane. The blade tore open Bowie's breast. The terrible Georgian, twice wounded though he was, caught Wright by the neck-cloth, grappled with him, and threw him to the ground, falling upon him. "Now, Major, you die," said Bowie coolly, wrenching his arm free and plunging his knife into Wright's heart. The knife had been made by Bowie's brother Rezin out of a blacksmith's rasp. It was shaped in accordance with his own ideas, and James Bowie used it with terrible effect. It was the first of the celebrated "Bowie knives" which played so great a part in frontier quarrels. In the general _mêlée_ which followed the death of Wright and Currey, six other men were killed and fifteen severely wounded. Bowie was a noted duellist {254} in his day, and died heroically in the famous siege of the Alamo[2]. On one occasion he was a passenger on a Mississippi steamboat with a young man and his bride. The young man had collected a large sum of money for friends and employers, which he gambled away on the boat. Bowie kept him from suicide, took his place at the gaming-table, exposed the cheating of the gamblers, was challenged by one of them, fought him on the hurricane deck of the steamer, shot him into the river, and restored the money to the distracted husband. Brief reference may be made to an affair between Major Thomas Biddle, of the United States Army, and Congressman Spencer Pettis, of Missouri, on August 27, 1831. The cause of the duel was a political difficulty. The two men stood five feet apart, their pistols overlapping. Both were mortally wounded. This was nothing less than a double murder, and shows to what length men will go under the heat of passion or the stimulus of a false code of honor. V. A Famous Congressional Duel On February the 24, 1838, at a quarter after three o'clock on the Marlborough Road in Maryland, just outside the District of Columbia, two members of Congress, Jonathan Cilley of Maine, and William J. Graves of Kentucky, exchanged shots with rifles at a distance of ninety yards three times in succession. At the third exchange, Cilley was shot and died in three minutes. Of all the causes for deadly encounters, that which brought these two men opposite each other was the {255} most foolish. Cilley, on the floor of the House, had reflected upon the character of a newspaper editor in the discussion of charges which had been made against certain Congressmen with whom he had no personal connection. The newspaper editor, whose subsequent conduct showed that he fully merited even more severe strictures than Cilley had passed upon him, sent a challenge to the gentleman from Maine by the hand of Congressman Graves. Cilley took the justifiable position that his language had been proper and privileged, and that he did not propose to accept a challenge or discuss the matter with any one. He assured Graves that this declination to pursue the matter further was not to be construed as a reflection upon the bearer of the challenge. There was no quarrel whatever between Cilley and Graves. Nevertheless, Graves took the ground that the refusal to accept the challenge which he had brought was a reflection upon him. He thereupon challenged Cilley on his own behalf. Efforts were made to compose the quarrel but Cilley was not willing to go further than he had already done. He positively refused to discuss the editor in question. He would only repeat that he intended no reflection upon Mr. Graves, whom he respected and esteemed, by refusing the editor's challenge. This was not satisfactory to Graves, and the duel was, accordingly, arranged. During its course, after each fruitless exchange of shots, efforts were made to end the affair, but Graves refused to accept Cilley's statement, again repeated, that he had no reflection to cast upon Mr. Graves, and Cilley refused to abandon the position he had taken with regard to the editor. Never did a more foolish punctilio bring about so terrible a result. Aside from {256} accepting the challenge, Cilley had pursued a dignified and proper course. Graves, to put it mildly, had played the fool. He was practically a disgraced man thereafter. The Congressional committee which investigated the matter censured him in the severest terms, and recommended his expulsion from Congress. Perhaps the public indignation excited by this wretched affair did more to discredit duelling than any previous event. VI. The Last Notable Duel in America The last notable American duel was that between United States Senator Broderick, of California, and ex-Chief Justice Terry, of the Supreme Court of the same state, on September 13, 1859. This, too, arose from political differences. Broderick and Terry belonged to different factions of the growing Republican party, each struggling for control in California. Broderick was strongly anti-slavery, and his opponents wanted him removed. Terry was defeated in his campaign for reflection largely, as he supposed, through Broderick's efforts. The two men had been good friends previously. Broderick had stood by Terry on one occasion when everybody else had been against him and his situation had been critical. In his anger over his defeat, Terry accused Broderick of disgraceful and underhand practices. Broderick was provoked into the following rejoinder: "I see that Terry has been abusing me. I now take back the remark I once made that he is the only honest judge in the Supreme Court. I was his friend when he was in need of friends, for which I am sorry. Had the vigilance committee disposed of him as they did of others, they would have done a righteous act." {257} He alluded to Terry's arrest by the Vigilantes in August, 1856, charged with cutting a man named Sterling A. Hopkins, in the attempt to free from arrest one Reuben Maloney. Had Hopkins died, Terry would probably have been hung. As it was, it took the strongest influence--Masonic, press and other--to save him from banishment. Terry, after some acrimonious correspondence, challenged Broderick. A meeting on the 12th of September was stopped by the Chief of Police of San Francisco. The police magistrate before whom the duellists were arraigned, discharged them on the ground that there had been no actual misdemeanor. Next day the principals and the seconds met again at the foot of Lake Merced, about twelve miles from San Francisco. About eighty spectators, friends of the participants, were present. The distance was the usual ten paces. Both pistols had hair triggers, but Broderick's was more delicately set than Terry's, so much so that a jar might discharge it. Broderick's seconds were inexperienced men, and no one realized the importance of this difference. At the word both raised their weapons. Broderick's was discharged before he had elevated it sufficiently, and his bullet struck the ground about six feet in front of Terry. Terry was surer and shot his antagonist through the lung. Terry, who acted throughout with cold-blooded indifference, watched his antagonist fall and remarked that the wound was not mortal, as he had struck two inches to the right. He then left the field. When Broderick fell, one of the bystanders, named Davis, shouted out: "That is murder, by God!" {258} Drawing his own weapon, he started for Terry, exclaiming: "I am Broderick's friend. I'm not going to see him killed in that way. If you are men you will join me in avenging his death!" Some cool heads in the multitude restrained him, pointing out that if he attacked Terry there would be a general _mêlée_, from which few on the ground would escape, and they finally succeeded in getting him away. Broderick lingered for three days. "They have killed me," he said, "because I was opposed to slavery and a corrupt administration." Colonel Edward D. Baker, who was killed at Ball's Bluff in the Civil War, received his friend's last words. "I tried to stand firm when I was wounded, but I could not. The blow blinded me." Terry was tried for murder, but by influence and other means he was never convicted, and escaped all punishment save that inflicted by his conscience. In judging these affairs, it must be remembered that many of the most prominent Americans of the past--Benton, Clay, Calhoun and Houston among them--fought duels. And it is well known that only Abraham Lincoln's wit and humor saved him from a deadly encounter with General James Shields, whose challenge he accepted. [1] The reader may consult my book "The True Andrew Jackson" for a detailed account of this interesting transaction. [2] See my "Border Fights and Fighters" in this series for an account of this dramatic and heroic adventure. {261} III The Cruise of the _Tonquin_ A Forgotten Tragedy in Early American History On the morning of the 8th of September, 1810, two ships were running side by side before a fresh southwesterly breeze off Sandy Hook, New York. One was the great United States ship _Constitution_, Captain Isaac Hull; the other was the little full-rigged ship _Tonquin_, of two hundred and ninety tons burden. This little vessel was captained by one Jonathan Thorn, who was at the time a lieutenant in the United States Navy. He had obtained leave of absence for the purpose of making a cruise in the _Tonquin_. Thorn was a thoroughly experienced seaman and a skilled and practised navigator. He was a man of magnificent physique, with a fine war record. He was with Decatur in the _Intrepid_ when he put the captured _Philadelphia_ to flames six years before. In the subsequent desperate gunboat fighting at Tripoli, Midshipman Thorn had borne so distinguished a part that he received special commendation by Commodore Preble. As to his other qualities, Washington Irving, who knew him from infancy, wrote of him to the last with a warm affection which nothing could diminish. Mr. John Jacob Astor, merchant, fur-trader, financier, had pitched upon Thorn as the best man to take {262} the ship bearing the first representatives of the Pacific Fur Company around the Horn and up to the far northwestern American coast to make the first settlement at Astoria, whose history is so interwoven with that of our country. Mr. Astor already monopolized the fur trade of the Far West south of the Great Lakes. His present plan was to form a fur company and establish a series of trading posts along the Missouri River, reaching overland across the Rocky Mountains until they joined the posts on the Pacific. The place he selected for his Pacific depot was the mouth of the Columbia River. The principal rival of the Astor Fur Trading Company was the Northwest Company. Astor tried to persuade the company to join him in his new venture. When it refused to do so as an organization, he approached individual employees of the Company, and in 1810 formed the Pacific Fur Company. Among the incorporators were four Scottish Canadians, Messrs. McKay, McDougall, David Stuart, and Robert, his nephew. There were several other partners, including Wilson Price Hunt, of New Jersey. It was planned that Hunt should lead an overland expedition from St. Louis, while the four Scotsmen mentioned went around the Horn, and that they should meet at the mouth of the Columbia River, where the trading post was to be situated. Most of the employees of the company were Canadians who had enjoyed large experience in the fur business. Among these were included a large number of French _voyageurs_. Thus the _Tonquin_, owned by a German, captained by an American, with a crew including Swedes, French, English, Negroes, and Americans, carrying out a party of Scottish and French Canadians and one Russian, {263} started on her memorable voyage to establish a trading post under the American flag! The crew of the _Tonquin_ numbered twenty-three men. The number of passengers was thirty-three. The story of her voyage is related in the letters of the captain to Mr. Astor, and more fully in a quaint and curious French journal published at Montreal in 1819, by M. Gabriel Franchere, one of the Canadian clerks who made the voyage. The _Tonquin_ was pierced for twenty guns, only ten small ones being mounted. The other ports were provided with imposing wooden dummies. She had a high poop and a topgallant forecastle. The four partners, with James Lewis, acting captain's clerk, and one other, with the two mates, slept in the cabin or wardroom below the poop. Forward of this main cabin was a large room extending across the ship, called the steerage, in which the rest of the clerks, the mechanics, and the Canadian boatmen were quartered. Thorn seems to have felt to the full all the early naval officer's utterly unmerited contempt for the merchant service. It is also the habit of the Anglo-Saxon to hold the French in slight esteem on the sea. The Canadians were wretched sailors, and Thorn despised them. Thorn also cherished a natural hatred against the English, who were carrying things with a high hand on our coast. He began the voyage with a violent prejudice against the four partners on his ship. Indeed, the _Constitution_ had convoyed the _Tonquin_ to sea because it was rumored that a British brig-o'-war intended to swoop down upon her and take off the English subjects on board. It was quite evident that war would shortly break out between England {264} and the United States, and the Scottish partners had surreptitiously consulted the English consul as to what they should do if hostilities began. They were informed that in that case they would be treated as British subjects--a fine situation for an American expedition! With such a spirit in the captain, and such a feeling on the part of the passengers, the relations between them were bound to become strained. Hostilities began at once. The first night out Thorn ordered all lights out at eight bells. This in spite of all the remonstrances of the four partners, who, as representing Mr. Astor, considered themselves, properly enough, as owners of the ship. These gentlemen did not wish to retire at so early an hour, nor did they desire to spend the intervening time in darkness. They remonstrated with Thorn, and he told them, in the terse, blunt language of a seaman, to keep quiet or he would put them in irons. In case he attempted that, they threatened to resort to firearms for protection. Finally, however, the captain allowed them a little longer use of their lights. Thus was inaugurated a long, disgraceful wrangle that did not cease while life lasted. There was doubtless much fault on both sides, but, in spite of the brilliant advocate who has pleaded Thorn's cause, I cannot but admit that he was decidedly the more to blame. He carried things with a high hand, indeed, treating the partners as he might a graceless lot of undisciplined midshipmen. A voyage around the Horn in those days was no slight matter. The _Tonquin_ was a remarkably good sailer, but it was not until the 5th of October that they sighted the Cape Verde Islands. There they struck the Trades, and went booming down the African coast {265} at a great rate. There, also, they were pursued by a large man-o'-war brig. On the third day she drew so near that Thorn prepared for action, whereupon the brig sheered off, and left them. On the 11th of October they ran into a terrific storm, which prevailed until the 21st, when they found themselves off the River Plate. While the storm was at its height the man at the wheel was thrown across the deck by a sudden jump of the wheel and severely injured, breaking three of his ribs and fracturing his collar-bone[1]. Thorn's seamanship during the trying period was first class. After the gale blew itself out, a fresh breeze succeeded, which enabled them rapidly to run down their southing. The water supply had grown very low, and it was determined to run in to the Falkland Islands to fill the casks. They made a landfall on the 3rd of December, got on shore on one of the smaller islets on the 4th, found no water, and were driven to sea to seek an offing on the 5th by a gale. On the 6th they landed at Point Egmont on the West Falkland, and found a fine spring of fresh water. As it would take several days to fill the casks, all the passengers went ashore and camped on the deserted island. They amused themselves by fishing, shooting and rambling about. On the 11th of the month the captain, having filled his water-casks, signalled for every man to come aboard, by firing a gun. Eight passengers, including McDougall and Stuart, happened to be on shore at the time. They had wandered around to the other side of the island, and did not hear the report of the gun. Thorn, after waiting a short time, weighed anchor and filled away from {266} the island, firmly resolved to leave the men ashore, marooned and destitute of supplies on that desolate and uninhabited spot, where they must inevitably perish of starvation and exposure. Some of the abandoned passengers happened to see the _Tonquin_ fast leaving the island. In great alarm they hastily summoned all the other wanderers, and the eight got into a small boat twenty feet long, which had been left with them, and rowed after the rapidly receding ship. They had not the slightest hope of catching her unless she waited for them, but they pulled for her with furious energy, nevertheless. As the _Tonquin_ got from under the lee of the land the breeze freshened and she drew away from them with every passing moment in spite of their manful work at the oars. When they had about given up in exhaustion and despair, the ship suddenly changed her course and stood toward them. Franchere says that it was because young Stuart put a pistol to the captain's head and swore that he would blow out his brains unless he went back for the boat. The captain's account to Mr. Astor is that a sudden shift of wind compelled him to come about and this gave the boat an opportunity to overhaul him. There was a scene of wild recrimination when the boat reached the ship, shortly after six bells (3 P. M.), but it did not seem to bother Thorn in the least. On the 18th of December, they were south and east of Cape Horn. The weather was mild and pleasant, but before they could make headway enough against the swift easterly current to round that most dangerous point it came on to blow a regular Cape Horn gale. After seven days of hard beating they celebrated Christmas under pleasanter auspices in the southern Pacific. {267} Their run northward was uneventful, and on the 11th of February, 1811, they sighted the volcano of Mauna Loa in the Sandwich Islands. They landed on the 12th and spent sixteen days among the different islands, visiting, filling the water-casks, and buying fresh meat, vegetables, and live-stock from Kamehameha I. While Captain Thorn was hated by the passengers, he was not loved by his officers. Singularly enough, he seems to have been well liked by the crew, although there were some exceptions even there. Anderson, the boatswain, left the ship at Hawaii. There had been difficulties between them, and the captain was glad to see him go. A sample of Thorn's method of administering discipline is interesting. The day they sailed a seaman named Aymes strayed from the boat party, and was left behind when the boat returned to the ship. In great terror Aymes had some natives bring him aboard in a canoe. A longboat loaded with fodder for the live-stock lay alongside. As Aymes clambered into the long-boat, the captain, who was furiously angry, sprang down into the boat, seized Aymes with one hand and a stout piece of sugar-cane with the other. With this formidable weapon the unfortunate sailor was beaten until he screamed for mercy. After wearing out the sugarcane upon him, with the remark that if he ever saw him on the sloop again, he would kill him, the captain pitched him into the water. Aymes, who was a good swimmer, made the best of his way to the shore, and stayed there with Anderson. Twenty-four natives were shipped at Hawaii, twelve for the crew and twelve for the new settlement. On the 16th of March they ran into another storm, of such violence that they were forced to strike their {268} topgallant masts and scud under double-reefed foresail. As they were nearing the coast, the ship was hove to at night. Early on the morning of the 22nd of March, they sighted land, one hundred and ninety-five days and twenty thousand miles from Sandy Hook. The weather was still very severe, the wind blowing in heavy squalls and the sea running high, and the captain did not think it prudent to approach the shore nearer than three miles. His navigation had been excellent, however, for before them lay the mouth of the Columbia River, the object of their long voyage. They could see the waves breaking over the bar with tremendous force as they beat to and fro along the coast. Thorn, ignorant of the channel, did not dare take the ship in under such conditions. He therefore ordered First-Mate Ebenezer Fox to take Sailmaker Martin and three Canadians into a boat and find the channel. It was a hazardous undertaking, and the despatch of the small boat under such circumstances was a serious error in judgment. There had been bad blood between the captain and the mate, and Fox did not wish to go. If he had to go, he begged that his boat might be manned with seamen instead of Canadians. The captain refused to change his orders. Fox appealed to the partners. They remonstrated with the captain, but they could not alter his determination. The boat was pulled away and was lost to sight in the breakers. Neither the boat nor any member of the crew was ever seen or heard of again. The boat was ill-found and ill-manned. She was undoubtedly caught in the breakers and foundered. The next day the wind increased in violence, and they cruised off the shore looking for the boat. Every one on board, including the captain, stern and {269} ruthless though he was, was very much disturbed at her loss. On the 24th the weather moderated somewhat, and running nearer to the shore, they anchored just outside Cape Disappointment, near the north shore of the river mouth. The wind subsiding, Mumford, the second mate, with another boat, was sent to search for the passage, but finding the surf still too heavy, he returned about noon, after a terrible struggle with the breakers. In the afternoon McKay and Stuart offered to take a boat and try to get ashore to seek for Fox and the missing men. They made the endeavor, but did not succeed in passing the breakers, and returned to the ship. Later in the afternoon a gentle breeze sprang up from the west, blowing into the mouth of the river, and Thorn determined to try and cross the bar. He weighed anchor, therefore, and bore down under easy sail for the entrance of the river. As he came close to the breakers he hove to and sent out another boat, in charge of Aitkin, a Scottish seaman, accompanied by Sailmaker Coles, Armorer Weeks and two Sandwich Islanders. The breakers were not quite so rough as they had been, and Aitkin proceeded cautiously some distance in front of the ship, making soundings and finding no depth less than four fathoms. In obedience to his signals, the ship came bowling on, and the fitful breeze suddenly freshening, she ran through the breakers, passing Aitkin's boat to starboard in pistol-shot distance. Signals were made for the boat to return, but the tide had turned, and the strong ebb, with the current of the river, bore the boat into the breakers in spite of all her crew could do. While they were watching the boat, over which the waves were seen breaking furiously, {270} the ship, the wind failing, was driven seaward by the tide, and struck six or seven times on the bar. The breakers, running frightfully high, swept over her decks again and again. Nothing could be done for the boat by the ship, their own condition being so serious as to demand all their efforts. Thorn at last extricated the _Tonquin_ from her predicament. The wind favored her again, and she got over the bar and through the breakers, anchoring at nightfall in seven fathoms of water. The night was very dark. The ebb and current threatened to sweep the ship on the shore. Both anchors were carried out. Still the holding was inadequate and the ship's position grew more dangerous. They passed some anxious hours until the turn of the tide, when in spite of the fact that it was pitch dark, they weighed anchor, made sail, and succeeded in finding a safe haven under the lee of Cape Disappointment, in a place called Baker's Bay. The next day the captain and some of the partners landed in the morning to see if they could find the missing party. As they were wandering aimlessly upon the shore, they came across Weeks, exhausted and almost naked. He had a sad story to tell. The boat had capsized in the breakers and his two white companions had been drowned. He and the Kanakas had succeeded in righting the boat and clambering into her. By some fortunate chance they were tossed outside the breakers and into calmer waters. The boat was bailed out, and the next morning Weeks sculled her ashore with the one remaining oar. One of the Sandwich Islanders was so severely injured that he died in the boat, and the other was probably dying from exposure. The relief party prosecuted their {271} search for the Kanaka and found him the next day almost dead. The loss of these eight men and these two boats was a serious blow to so small an expedition, but there was nothing to be done about it, and the work of selecting a permanent location for the trading-post on the south shore, unloading the cargo, and building the fort was rapidly carried on, although not without the usual quarrels between captain and men. After landing the company, Thorn had been directed by Mr. Astor to take the _Tonquin_ up the coast to gather a load of furs. He was to touch at the settlement which they had named Astoria, on his way back, and take on board what furs the partners had been able to procure and bring them back to New York. Thorn was anxious to get away, and on the 1st of June, having finished the unloading of the ship, and having seen the buildings approaching completion, accompanied by McKay as supercargo, and James Lewis of New York, as clerk, he started on his trading voyage. That was the last that anybody ever saw of Thorn or the _Tonquin_ and her men. Several months after her departure a Chehalis Indian, named Lamanse, wandered into Astoria with a terrible story of an appalling disaster. The _Tonquin_ made her way up the coast, Thorn buying furs as he could. At one of her stops at Gray's Harbour, this Indian was engaged as interpreter. About the middle of June, the _Tonquin_ entered Nootka Sound, an ocean estuary between Nootka and Vancouver Islands, about midway of the western shore of the latter. There she anchored before a large Nootka Indian village, called Newity. The place was even then not unknown to history. The Nootkas were a fierce and savage race. A few {272} years before the advent of the _Tonquin_, the American ship _Boston_, Captain Slater, was trading in Nootka Sound. The captain had grievously insulted a native chieftain. The ship had been surprised, every member of her crew except two murdered, and the ship burned. These two had been wounded and captured, but when it was learned that one was a gunsmith and armorer, their lives were preserved and they had been made slaves, escaping long after. Every ship which entered the Sound thereafter did so with the full knowledge of the savage and treacherous nature of the Indians, and the trading was carried on with the utmost circumspection. There had been no violent catastrophes for several years, until another ship _Boston_ made further trouble. Her captain had shipped twelve Indian hunters, promising to return them to their people on Nootka Sound when he was finished with them. Instead of bringing them back, he marooned them on a barren coast hundreds of miles away from their destination. When they heard of his cruel action, the Nootkas swore to be revenged on the next ship that entered the Sound. The next ship happened to be the ill-fated _Tonquin_. Now, no Indians that ever lived could seize a ship like the _Tonquin_ if proper precautions were taken by her crew. Mr. Astor, knowing the record of the bleak north-western shores, had especially cautioned Thorn that constant watchfulness should be exercised in trading. Thorn felt the serenest contempt for the Indians, and took no precautions of any sort. Indeed, the demeanor of the savages lulled even the suspicions of McKay, who had had a wide experience with the aborigines. McKay even went ashore at the invitation of one of the chiefs and spent the first night of his arrival in his lodge. {273} The next day the Indians came aboard to trade. They asked exorbitant prices for their skins, and conducted themselves in a very obnoxious way. Thorn was not a trader; he was a sailor. He offered them what he considered a fair price, and if that was not satisfactory, why, the vendor could go hang, for all he cared. One old chief was especially persistent and offensive in his bargaining for a high price. He followed Thorn back and forth on the deck, thrusting a roll of skins in front of him, until the irascible captain at last lost the little control of his temper he ordinarily retained. He suddenly grabbed the skins and shoved them--not to say rubbed them--in the face of the indignant and astonished Indian. Then he took the Indian by the back of the neck and summarily rushed him along the deck to the gangway. It is more than likely that he assisted him in his progress by kicking him overboard. The other Indians left the ship immediately. The interpreter warned McKay that they would never forgive such an insult, and McKay remonstrated with the captain. His remonstrances were laughed to scorn, as usual. Not a precaution was taken. Ships trading in these latitudes usually triced up boarding nettings fore and aft to prevent savages from swarming over the bulwarks without warning. Thorn refused to order these nettings put in position. McKay did not think it prudent to go on shore that night. Early the next morning a large canoe containing some twenty Indians, all unarmed, came off to the ship. Each Indian held up a bundle of furs and signified his desire to trade. Thorn in great triumph admitted them to the ship, the furs were brought on deck, and bargaining began. There was no evidence of {274} resentment about any of them. Their demeanor was entirely different from what it had been the night before. On this occasion the Indians were willing to let the white men put any value they pleased on the furs. While they were busily buying and selling, another party of unarmed Indians made their appearance alongside. They were succeeded by a second, a third, a fourth, and others, all of whom were welcome to the ship. Soon the deck was crowded with Indians eager to barter. Most of them wanted hunting or butcher knives in return, and by this means, no one suspecting anything, nearly every one of the savages became possessed of a formidable weapon for close-quarter fighting. McKay and Thorn appeared to have gone below temporarily, perhaps to break out more goods to exchange for furs, when the Indian interpreter became convinced that treachery was intended. Whoever was in charge at the time--perhaps Lewis--at the interpreter's instance [Transcriber's note: insistence?], sent word to the captain, and he and McKay came on deck at once. The ship was filled with a mob of Indians, whose gentle and pleasant aspect had given way to one of scowling displeasure and menace. The situation was serious. McKay suggested that the ship be got under way at once. The captain for the first time agreed with him. Orders were given to man the capstan, and five of the seamen were sent aloft to loose sail. The wind was strong, and happened to be blowing in the right direction. With singular fatuity none of the officers or seamen were armed, although the ship was well provided with weapons. As the cable slowly came in through the hawse-pipe, and the loosed sails fell from the yards, Thorn, through the interpreter, told the Indians that he was about to sail away, and {275} peremptorily directed them to leave the ship. Indeed, the movements of the sailors made his intentions plain. It was too late. There was a sharp cry--a signal--from the chief, and without a moment's hesitation the Indians fell upon the unprepared and astonished crew. Some of the savages hauled out war-clubs and tomahawks which had been concealed in bundles of fur; others made use of the knives just purchased. Lewis was the first man struck down. He was mortally wounded, but succeeded in the subsequent confusion, in gaining the steerage. McKay was seriously injured and thrown overboard. In the boats surrounding the ships were a number of women, and they despatched the unfortunate partner with their paddles. The captain whipped out a sailor's sheath knife which he wore, and made a desperate fight for his life. The sailors also drew their knives or caught up belaying-pins or handspikes, and laid about them with the energy of despair, but to no avail. They were cut down in spite of every endeavor. The captain killed several of the Indians with his knife, and was the last to fall, overborne in the end by numbers. He was hacked and stabbed to death on his own deck. The five sailors aloft had been terrified and helpless witnesses to the massacre beneath them. That they must do something for their own lives they now realized. Making their way aft by means of the rigging, they swung themselves to the deck and dashed for the steerage hatch. The attention of the savages had been diverted from them by the mêlée on deck. The five men gained the hatch, the last man down, Weeks the armorer being stabbed and mortally wounded, although he, too, gained the hatch. At this juncture the Indian interpreter, who had not been molested, sprang {276} overboard, and was taken into one of the canoes and concealed by the women. His life was spared, and he was afterward made a slave, and eventually escaped. The four unhurt men who had gained the steerage, broke through into the cabin, armed themselves, and made their way to the captain's cabin, whence they opened fire upon the savages on deck. The Indians fled instantly, leaving many of their dead aboard the ship. The decks of the _Tonquin_ had been turned into shambles. The next morning the natives saw a boat with four sailors in it pulling away from the ship. They cautiously approached the _Tonquin_ thereupon, and discovered one man, evidently badly wounded, leaning over the rail. When they gained the deck, he was no longer visible. No immediate search appears to have been made for him, but finding the ship practically deserted, a great number of Indians came off in their canoes and got aboard. They were making preparations to search and pillage the ship, when there was a terrific explosion, and the ill-fated _Tonquin_ blew up with all on board. In her ending she carried sudden destruction to over two hundred of the Indians. It is surmised that the four unwounded men left on the ship realized their inability to carry the _Tonquin_ to sea, and determined to take to the boat in the hope of reaching Astoria by coasting down the shore. It is possible that they may have laid a train to the magazine--the _Tonquin_ carried four and a half tons of powder--but it is generally believed, as a more probable story, on account of the time that elapsed between their departure and the blowing up of the ship, that Lewis, who was yet alive in spite of his mortal wounds, and who was a man of splendid resolution and courage as well, {277} realizing that he could not escape death, remained on board; and when the vessel was crowded with Indians had revenged himself for the loss of his comrades by firing the magazine and blowing up the ship. Again, it is possible that Lewis may have died, and that Weeks, the armorer, the other wounded man, made himself the instrument of his own and the Indians' destruction. To complete the story, the four men who had escaped in the boats were pursued, driven ashore, and fell into the hands of the implacable Indians. They were tortured to death. Such was the melancholy fate which attended some of the participants in the first settlement of what is now one of the greatest and most populous sections of the Union. [1] I have seen a man at the wheel of the old _Constellation_ on one of my own cruises similarly injured. {281} IV John Paul Jones Being Further Light on His Strange Career[1] One hundred and eighteen years ago a little man who had attracted the attention of two continents, and who, in his comparatively brief career of forty-five years, had won eternal fame for himself among the heroes of the world, died in Paris, alone in his room. He had been ill for some time, and his physician, calling late in the evening, found him prone upon his bed, sleeping a sleep from which no call to battle would ever arouse him. Like Warren Hastings, John Paul Jones was at rest at last; "in peace after so many storms, in honor after so much obliquy." He was buried in a Protestant cemetery in Paris, which was officially closed in January, 1793. The exact location of his grave there was forgotten. For many years even the fact that he was buried there was forgotten. The other day the cable flashed a message which gladdened every American heart. Under the inspiration, and at the personal charges, of General Horace Porter, United States Ambassador to France, {282} a search had been instigated and the body was found and completely identified. It is a service of sentiment that General Porter has rendered us, but not the less valuable on that account. To love the hero, to recall the heroic past, is good for the future. The remains of the great captain came back to the United States. On the decks of such a battleship as even his genius never dreamed of, surrounded by a squadron that could have put to flight all the sea-fighters of the world before the age of steam and steel, the body of the little commodore was brought back to his adopted country to repose on the soil of the land he loved, for whose liberty he fought, whose honor he maintained in battle; and a suitable monument is to be raised by our people to commemorate his services, to inspire like conduct in years to come. Commodore John Paul Jones, the first of the great American fighters, and not the least splendid in the long line, was born of humble origin in a southern county of Scotland. His family was obscure, his circumstances narrow, his advantages meagre, his opportunities limited. At the age of twelve he became a sailor. Genius rose, superior to adverse circumstances, however, and before he died he was one of the most accomplished officers who ever served the United States. The greatest men of America and France took pleasure in his society and were proud of his friendship. He progressed rapidly in his chosen career. At nineteen he was chief mate of a slaver, a legitimate occupation in his day but one that filled him with disgust. At twenty-one he was captain of a trader. In 1773 he came to America, forsook the sea and settled in Virginia. {283} I. The Birth of the American Navy He was still poor and still obscure when on December 7, 1775, he was appointed a lieutenant in the new Continental Navy, In that capacity he was ordered to the _Alfred_, a small converted merchantman, the flagship of Commodore Hopkins. He joined the ship immediately, and in the latter part of December he had the honor of hoisting with his own hands the first naval flag of an American squadron. This was the famous yellow silk banner with a rattlesnake and perhaps a pine tree emblazoned upon it, and with the significant legend, "Don't tread on me!" Hopkins made an abortive expedition to New Providence, in which Jones had but one opportunity to distinguish himself. At the peril of his commission, when the regular pilots refused to do so, he volunteered to take the _Alfred_ through a difficult and dangerous channel. Needless to say, he succeeded--he always succeeded! His first independent command was the little schooner _Providence_, of seventy men and twelve four-pound guns. In the Fall of 1775 he made a notable cruise in this schooner; he skirmished with, and escaped from, by seamanship and daring, two heavy frigates, the _Solebay_ and the _Milford_; in four months he captured sixteen vessels, eight of which were sent in as prizes, five burned, three returned to certain poor fishermen; and he destroyed property aggregating a million dollars. Later, in command of the _Alfred_, with a short crew of one hundred and fifty, when he should have had three hundred, he made another brilliant cruise in {284} which he burned several British transports, captured one store-ship, laden to the gunwales with priceless munitions of war and supplies, cut out three of the supply fleet from under the guns of the _Flora_ frigate, and had another smart brush with the _Milford_. II. Jones First Hoists the Stars and Stripes Commissioned captain on the 14th of June, 1777, in the same resolution which established an American flag, he was ordered to the _Ranger_, a little ship-rigged corvette of three hundred tons. In her, on the 4th of July of the same year, he hoisted the first stars and stripes that had ever waved over a ship-of-war. In Quiberon Bay--famous as one of the battle-grounds of the world--on the evening of the 14th of February, 1778, in the _Ranger_, he received the first formal recognition ever given by a foreign fleet to the United States in a salute to the American flag. As it was after sunset when the salutes were exchanged, and in order that there should be no mistake about it, the next morning, the 15th of February, Jones transferred his flag to the _Independence_, a small privateer, and deliberately sailed through La Motte Picquet's great fleet of towering line-of-battle-ships, saluting and receiving salutes again. Still on the _Ranger_, on the 24th of April, he fought the British sloop-of-war _Drake_, of equal force and larger crew, to a standstill in an hour and five minutes. When the _Drake_ struck her flag, her rigging, sails and spars were cut to pieces. She had forty-two killed and wounded--more than one-fifth of her crew--and was completely helpless. The _Ranger_ lost two killed and six wounded. {285} In 1779 Jones hoisted his flag on the _Duc de Duras_, a condemned East Indiaman, which would have been broken up had he not turned her into a makeshift frigate by mounting forty guns in her batteries--fourteen twelve-pounders, twenty nines and six eighteens. This, in honor of Franklin, he named the _Bonhomme Richard_. Accompanied by the fine little American-built frigate _Alliance_ and the French ship _Pallas_, with the brig _Vengeance_, and the cutter _Cerf_, he cruised around England, taking several prizes, and striking terror all along the shore. III. The Battle With the _Serapis_ On the evening of the 23rd of September he fell in with the Baltic convoy. He was accompanied at the time by the _Alliance_ and the _Pallas_. The Baltic convoy was protected by the _Serapis_ and the _Scarborough_. The _Serapis_ was a brand-new, double-banked frigate of eight hundred tons, carrying twenty eighteen-pounders, twenty nines and ten sixes. Inasmuch as the eighteen-pounders on the _Richard_ burst and were abandoned after the first fire, the _Serapis_ could and did discharge nearly twice as many pounds' weight of broadside as the _Richard_, say three hundred pounds to one hundred and seventy-five. The _Pallas_ grappled with the _Scarborough_--a more equal match--and Jones attacked the _Serapis_, which was not unwilling--quite the contrary--for the fight. The battle was one of the most memorable and desperate ever fought upon the ocean. The _Richard_ was riddled like a sieve. Her rotten sides were literally blown out to starboard and port by the heavy batteries of the _Serapis_. Jones had several hundred English {286} prisoners on board. The master-at-arms released them, but, with great readiness and presence of mind, Jones sent them to the pumps, while he continued to fight the English frigate, his own ship kept afloat by their efforts. Captain Pearson, of the _Serapis_, was as brave a man as ever drew a sword, but he was no match for the indomitable personality of the American commander. After several hours of such fighting as had scarcely been seen before on the narrow seas, he struck his flag. The _Alliance_, accompanied by a jealous and incapable Frenchman, had contributed nothing to Jones's success. Indeed, she had twice poured her broadsides into the _Richard_. The American vessel was so wrecked below and aloft that she sank alongside, and Jones had to transfer the survivors of his crew to the English frigate. The aggregate of the two crews was nearly seven hundred, of which about three hundred and fifty were killed or wounded. It is the greatest pity that the poverty of America did not permit Jones to get to sea in a proper frigate, or in a ship of the line, before the close of the war. After the Revolution, in which he had borne so conspicuous a part, so much so that his exploits had electrified both continents, he took service under Catherine of Russia, carefully reserving his American citizenship. In her service he fought four brilliant actions in the Black Sea, in which he had to contend with the usual discouragement of indifferent personnel and wretched material, and in which he displayed all his old-time qualities, winning his usual successes, too. Worn out in unrequited service, disgusted with Russian court intrigues of which he was the victim, resentful of the infamous Potemkin's brutal attempts {287} at coercion, he asked leave of absence from Catherine's service and went to Paris, where, in the companionship of his friends, and in the society of the beautiful Aimèe de Telison, the one woman he loved, he lived two years and died at the age of forty-five. IV. A Hero's Famous Sayings Besides the memory of his battles, Paul Jones left a collection of immortal sayings, which are the heritage of the American Navy and the admiration of brave men the world over. When the monument which is to be erected shall be ready for inscriptions, these may with propriety be carved upon it: "_I do not wish to have command of any ship that does not sail fast, for I intend to go in harm's way!_" Brave little captain. "_I have ever looked out for the honor of the American flag!_" It is the truth itself. "_I can never renounce the glorious title of a citizen of the United States!_" The title was one which Paul Jones signally honored. Last, but not least, that curt phrase which comes ringing through the centuries like a trumpet call to battle; the words with which he replied to the demand of the astonished Pearson, who saw his enemy's ship beaten to a pulp, and wondered why he did not yield: "_I have not yet begun to fight!_" That was the finest phrase, under the circumstances, that ever came from the lips of an American sailor. "It was no new message. The British had heard it as they tramped again and again up the bullet-swept slopes of Bunker Hill; Washington rang it in the ears of the Hessians on the snowy Christmas morning at {288} Trenton; the hoof-beats of Arnold's horse kept time to it in the wild charge at Saratoga; it cracked with the whip of the old wagoner Morgan at the Cowpens; the Maryland troops drove it home in the hearts of their enemies with Greene at Guilford Court House; and the drums of France and America beat it into Cornwallis's ears when the end came at Yorktown. There, that night, in that darkness, in that still moment of battle, Paul Jones declared the determination of a great people. His was the expression of an inspiration on the part of a new nation. From this man came a statement of our unshakeable determination, at whatever cost, to be free! A new Declaration of Independence, this famous word of warning to the brave sailor of the British king." V. What Jones Did for His Country Never in his long career did Jones have a decent ship or a respectable crew. His materials were always of the very poorest. His officers, with the exception of Richard Dale, were but little to boast of. What he accomplished, he accomplished by the exercise of his own indomitable will, his serene courage, his matchless skill as a sailor, and his devotion to the cause he had espoused. After his death, among his papers, the following little memorandum, written in his own hand, was found: "In 1775, J. Paul Jones armed and embarked in the first American ship of war. In the Revolution he had twenty-three battles and solemn _rencontres_ by sea; made seven descents in Britain, and her colonies; took of her navy two ships of equal, and two of superior force, many store-ships, and others; constrained her to {289} fortify her ports; suffer the Irish Volunteers; desist from her cruel burnings in America and exchange, as prisoners of war, the American citizens taken on the ocean, and cast into prisons of England, as 'traitors, pirates, and felons!'" Indeed a truthful and a brilliant record. Paul Jones was accused of being a pirate. The charge was a long time dying, but it is to-day generally disavowed. When recently his bones were returned to American shores, may we not believe that from some valhalla of the heroes, where the mighty men of the past mingle in peace and amity, he saw and took pride in the great if tardy outpouring of our fellow citizens to greet this first sea-king of our flag? Now, this story of the magnificent career of John Paul Jones, so briefly summarized, has been often told, and its details are familiar to every schoolboy. There is one mystery connected with his life, however, which has not yet been solved. I purpose to make here an original contribution toward its solution. No one knows positively--it is probable that no one ever will know, why John Paul assumed the name of Jones. Of course the question is not vital to Jones's fame, for from whatever reason he assumed the name by which he is remembered, he certainly honored it most signally; but the reason for the assumption is nevertheless of deep interest to all lovers of history. There have been two explanations of this action. VI. Why Did He Take the Name of Jones? Five years ago two biographies of Jones appeared simultaneously. One I had the honor of writing myself. The other was from the pen of that gifted {290} and able author, the late Colonel Augustus C. Buell. Our accounts were in singular agreement, save in one or two points, and our conclusions as to the character of Jones in absolute harmony. In Colonel Buell's book he put forth the theory--which, so far as I know, had not before been formulated--that John Paul assumed the name of Jones in testamentary succession to his brother William Paul, who had preceded him to America; and that William Paul had himself taken the name in testamentary succession to one William Jones, a childless old planter of Middlesex County, Virginia, who bequeathed to the said William Paul an extensive plantation on the Rappahannock, some nine miles below Urbana, at a place called Jones's Wharf, on condition that he call himself Jones. In 1805 this Jones property was owned by members of the Taliaferro family, who had received it from Archibald Frazier, who claimed to have received it from John Paul Jones, although there are no records of transfer extant. My theory, which Colonel Buell facetiously characterized--doubtless in all good humor--as "Tar-heel mythology," stated that John Paul assumed the name of Jones out of friendship and regard for the justly celebrated Jones family of North Carolina, and especially for Mrs. Willie Jones, who is not unknown in history, and who was one of the most brilliant and charming women of the colonies. Members of this family had befriended him and assisted him pecuniarily, and had extended to him the bounteous hospitality of the famous plantations, Mount Gallant and The Groves, near Halifax. It was through their influence with Congressman Hewes that Jones received his commission as a lieutenant in the Continental Navy. {291} In further explanation it was suggested that on casting his lot with the rebellious colonies John Paul, who was somewhat erratic as well as romantic and impulsive, determined to take a new name and begin life over again. Here are two utterly irreconcilable theories. I at once wrote to Colonel Buell asking him to inform me what was his authority for his statement. I quote, with his permission given me before his lamented death, from several letters that he wrote me: "My first authentic information on the subject was from a gentleman named William Louden, whom I met in St. Louis in 1873, when I was attached to the _Missouri Republican_. Mr. Louden was a great-grandson of Mary Paul Louden, sister of John Paul Jones. He was the only surviving blood-relative of Paul Jones in this country, being his great-grandnephew. He told me substantially the history of the change of names as related in my first volume. "Two years later I met the late General Taliaferro of Virginia in Washington, and he corroborated the version, together with the history of the Jones plantation.[2] "One would naturally judge that the great-grandnephew of the man himself, and the gentleman who had subsequently owned the property, ought to know something about the antecedents of both the man and the land. . . . I doubt whether documentary evidence--such as would be admitted in court--can ever be found." Colonel Buell also called my attention to the fact {292} that in none of Paul Jones's letters to Joseph Hewes is there any reference to the North Carolina Jones family; and further, that Jones and Hewes became acquainted in commercial transactions before Jones settled in America. VII. Search for Historical Evidence In an attempt to settle the matter I wrote to all the Virginia county clerks on both sides of the Rappahannock River, asking them if any copy of the will of William Paul, or that of William Paul Jones, could be found in their records. Most of these Virginia county records were destroyed during the Civil War. By great good fortune, however, those of Spottsylvania County, in which the city of Fredericksburg is situated, were preserved, and I herewith append a copy of the will of William Paul, in which he bequeathes his property, making no mention of any plantation and no mention of the name of William Jones, to his sister, Mary Young, who afterward married Louden. "In the name of God, Amen; I, William Paul, of the town of Fredericksburg and County of Spottsylvania in Virginia--being in perfect sound memory, thanks be to Almighty God, and knowing it is appointed unto all men to die, do make and ordain this my last Will and Testament in manner and form revoking all former will or wills by me herebefore made. "Principally and first of all, I recommend my soul to Almighty God who gave it, hoping through the merits of my blessed Saviour and Redeemer Jesus Christ to find Redemption, and as to touching and concerning {293} what worldly estate it has pleased God to bless me with, I dispose of it in the following manner: "_Item_--It is my will and desire that all my just debts and funeral expenses be first paid by my Executors hereafter named, who are desired to bury my body in a decent, Christian-like manner. "_Item_--It is my will and desire that my Lots and Houses in this Town be sold and converted into money for as much as they will bring, that with all my other estate being sold and what of my out-standing debts that can be collected, I give and bequeath unto my beloved sister Mary Young, and her two eldest children and their heirs in Arbiglon in Parish of Kirkbeen in Stewartry of Galloway, North Brittain, forever. I do hereby empower my Executors to sell and convey the said land, lots and houses and make a fee simple therein, as I could or might do in my proper person, and I do appoint my friends Mr. William Templeman and Isaac Heislop my Executors to see this my will executed, confirming this to be my last will and testament. In Witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and fixed my seal as my last act and deed this 22nd day of March, 1772. "WILLIAM PAUL (Seal)." "William Paul having heard the above will distinctly read, declared the same to be his last will and testament in the presence of us: "JOHN ATKINSON, "THOMAS HOLMES, "B. JOHNSTON." William Paul evidently died in 1774, instead of 1773, as all the biographers of his famous brother {294} have it, and the will was accordingly probated, as will be seen from the following transcript of the court records: "At a Court continued and held for Spottsylvania County, December the 16th, 1774. "The Last Will and Testament of William Paul, deceased, was proved by the oaths of John Atkinson, a witness thereto, and ordered to be certified, and the Executors therein named refusing to take upon themselves the burden of the execution thereof, on the motion of John Atkinson who made oath and together with John Walker, Jr., his security, entered into and acknowledged their bond in the Penalty of Five hundred Pounds as the law directs. Certificate is granted him for obtaining letter of administration on the said decedent's estate with his will aforesaid annexed in due form." In further support of these facts, the grave of William Paul was recently discovered in St. George's churchyard, Fredericksburg, and his tombstone bears the date of 1774. This effectually disposes of Colonel Buell's contention. For whatever reason John Paul assumed the name of Jones it was not in testamentary succession to William Paul; for William Paul kept his inherited surname to the last. It occurred to me that John Paul might have been empowered to represent his sister in the settlement of his brother's estate. A power-of-attorney which would have enabled him to attend to her affairs would not necessarily have been registered in the Scottish or American courts; yet, knowing the methodical habit of the Scottish bar, I caused search to be made in the {295} private papers and records of those local advocates who might possibly have handled the business in Scotland; but with no results so far. I also had search made for any conveyance of the property mentioned in the will by William Paul's administrators. I append a copy of a letter from Mr. J. P. H. Crismund, a county clerk of Spottsylvania County. "SPOTTSYLVANIA, VA., June 7, 1901. "I have made the matter of John Paul Jones and William Paul and William Jones a matter of most careful study and search, but have not been able to find anything beyond the last will and testament of William Paul, a copy of which I send you. My first search was made to find the conveyance from William Paul's administration, with will annexed, conveying the houses and lots in Fredericksburg which are directed in William Paul's will to be sold, but the records nowhere show this. This seems and is strange, because some disposition must have been made of this property in some way, but I cannot find this here. I then followed the fiduciary indexes to see if I could find anything about the enlistment and service of John Paul to John Paul Jones--but this also was fruitless. William Paul could not have assumed the name of Jones, as he leaves his last will and testament in the name of Paul, nor is there any will of record in the name of Paul, nor is there any will of record in the name of John Paul Jones. I have given this matter such thought and attention and work, but I cannot find a clue to anything named in your letter to me and concerning which you make inquiry. "As William Paul's property was in Fredericksburg, it may be that the settlement of his estate and the {296} account of the sale of his effects is of record there. If you desire to write to the clerk of corporation court of that city as to that, he will courteously attend to your matter of inquiry. "Yours sincerely, "J. P. H. CRISMUND." I wrote as Mr. Crismund suggested, but could get no further information. VIII. The Joneses of North Carolina Now to revert to the North Carolina account. It comes down as straight as such a story could. Colonel Cadwallader Jones of North Carolina, in a privately printed genealogical history of his family, states that he was born in 1812. His grandmother, Mrs. Willie Jones, died in 1828. He lived with her for the first fifteen years of his life. He declares positively that she told him that John Paul had taken the name for the reasons mentioned. The matter was generally so stated and accepted in the family. Mrs. Willie Jones was a woman of unusual mental force and character, and preserved the full use of her faculties until her death. The same statement is made independently by descendants of other branches of the Jones family. For instance, Mr. Armistead Churchill Gordon, of Staunton, Va., had it direct from his great-aunt, who was a kinswoman of Mrs. Jones, and who heard from her the circumstances referred to. And there are still other lines of tradition which create a strong probability in favor of the credibility of the theory. For one thing, if Jones did represent his sister in the {297} settlement of his brother's estate, it is probable that he would have to give bond for the proper performance of his trust, and it is sometimes stated that Willie and Allen Jones went on his bond for five hundred pounds--just the sum required of the Executors, by the way. It is also singular, in view of this will leaving property to his grandmother, that the Louden whom Mr. Buell knew--and who is said to have died in New Orleans 1887--should have been so mistaken in his statements; but on this point the evidence of the will is absolutely conclusive. IX. Paul Jones Never a Man of Wealth Colonel Buell claims that John Paul Jones had riches and influence in Virginia after the death of his brother, but the claim is not tenable according to an exhaustive review of his book in the _Virginia Historical Magazine_. In the face of the present exhibit, and in the view of the fact that Jones himself spoke of living for two years in Virginia on fifty pounds, the story of his wealth cannot be credited. It is therefore entirely in harmony with the facts to accept the North Carolina tradition, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary. The direct statement coming to us in one instance through but one generation is entitled to respect. As a matter of fact both Colonel Buell's version of the matter and my own story rest upon tradition alone, with this difference--the evidence submitted absolutely excluded one of the accounts; the other, therefore, logically comes to the fore. And thus, I think, I have contributed to clear up one mooted point in American history. [1] My reason for including in this volume a paper on this great sailor whose career has already been discussed in "Revolutionary Fights and Fighters" (q. v.) is because this present article contains a new and original contribution to history, never before published in book form, which absolutely and finally settles one phase of the much mooted question as to why John Paul assumed the surname Jones, as will be seen hereafter. [2] Of which he (General Taliaferro) had become the owner. {301} V In the Caverns of the Pitt A Story of a Forgotten Fight with the Indians One of the most distinguished of the minor soldiers of the Civil War, minor in the sense of being surpassed only by men of the stature of Grant, Sherman, Sheridan and Thomas, was George Crook. His exploits in the valley of the Shenandoah were brilliant, and his whole career was replete with instances of ability and courage which stamped him as a soldier of the first grade. A major-general of volunteers and a brevet major-general in the regular army, the year 1868 found him a colonel of infantry commanding the military district of Owyhee, a section of the country which included the southeastern part of Oregon and the northeastern part of California. In the adaptation of means to ends, so far as Indian affairs are concerned, the United States has usually been woefully lacking. With a few companies of cavalry and infantry not aggregating a full regiment, this eminent soldier was directed to hold the various scattered garrison points throughout a large extent of territory, and also to settle the Indians, who for some time had been indulging their propensities for savage slaughter almost unchecked, save for a few sporadic and ineffective efforts by volunteers and irregulars. The far western representatives of the great {302} Shoshone nation are among the meanest, most degraded, most despicable Indians on the continent. This did not hinder them from being among the most brutal and ferocious. They made the tenure of life and property more than precarious in that far-off section during and after the Civil War. They were not very numerous, nor were they a great race of fighters, except when cornered. The character of the country to the eastward of their ravaging ground, abounding in lava beds, desolate plains, inaccessible valleys and impassable mountain ranges, to which they could fly when they were hard pressed, rendered it difficult to bring any considerable number of them to action, and they enjoyed a certain immunity from punishment on that account. The most important engagement between them and the troops, before the patience and perseverance of Crook and his handful, finally wore out the Indians, presents, perhaps, the one instance where they were brought fairly to bay and the soldiers had an opportunity to give them a thorough beating. This unique battle demonstrated also how desperately even a coward will fight when his back is against a wall. And it showed, as few other frontier fights have shown, the splendid courage of the regular American soldier in this arduous, unheeded service. Early on the 26th of September, 1868, General Crook, with a small troop of cavalry, H of the First, numbering less than thirty men, together with about a score of mounted infantrymen from the Twenty-third Regiment, and perhaps as many Warm Spring Indian scouts under a leader named Donald Macintosh, with a small pack train, found himself on the south fork of Pitt River, in Modoc County, Cal., a few miles below its junction with the main stream. The {303} country is wild, unsettled, largely unexplored to this day. There is no railroad even now nearer than one hundred and twenty-five miles. General Crook had been hunting and trailing Indians in the Warmer Mountains without success for several days. On this morning the Warm Spring Indian scouts reported that a large body of Indians was encamped in the valley upon which he was just entering. The general direction of the river here was due north and south. Perhaps a mile from the bank of the river to the west, rose a high tableland which terminated in precipitous and generally insurmountable bluffs of black basalt, extending above the general level of the valley about twelve hundred feet. Projecting eastward from the side of these lofty cliffs was a singular rocky plateau, the outer lines of which roughly formed a half circle. This elevation was bordered on the south by a deep and broken cañon, on the north by a creek which ran through a forest of scattered juniper trees. The plateau rose in two gentle slopes to a height of about five or six hundred feet above the valley level, and was thus half as high as the bluff to the westward, which formed the base of the semi-circle. Near the northern part of the plateau the rocks were elevated in a series of irregular broken peaks, like the jagged ice hummocks of the higher latitudes. The whole plateau was covered with enormous boulders, over which it was impossible even to lead a horse. On the lower reaches plots of grass, dotted with junipers, abounded. The valley of the river proper below the cliffs and the projecting plateau was a good place for a camp, although the ground near the banks was swampy and impassable. The peaks mentioned, it was afterward learned, {304} abounded with hidden caves and underground passages. By some curious freak of nature, the volcanic hummocks contained no less than four natural fortifications of varying sizes, which, supplemented by very slight efforts on the part of the Indians, had been turned into defensive works of the most formidable character. They were connected by a perfect labyrinth of crevasses and underground passages and caves, so that the defenders could easily pass from one to the other. The northeast fort, which was the principal one of the chain, was surrounded by a natural gorge some fifty feet deep and twenty-five feet wide at the top. A sort of banquette, or balcony, making a practicable path several feet wide, extended around the fort between the wall and the edge of the ravine. The fort proper was enclosed by a wall of rock, partly natural, partly artificial, about eight feet high. An assailant crossing the ravine and gaining the crest of the peak would have ample standing ground between the edge and the wall. The broken ground around these forts on the plateau formed a series of natural rifle pits. These works were held by no less than one hundred and twenty Shoshones belonging to the Piutes, Pitt Rivers, Modocs and Snakes. Their chief was Sa-hei-ta, one of the bravest and most brutal of the marauders. When they saw Crook's little force of fifty white soldiers and a score of Warm Spring Indians descending the bluff into the valley south of the rocky cañon, they laughed them to scorn. They were confident in the strength of their position and in their numbers, and they resolved to hold their ground. Indeed, after the first few moments there was nothing else for them to do, for Crook distributed his cavalry {305} and infantry around the northern and southern sides, put his pack mules in camp in the valley on the east with a small guard, and threw the Warm Spring Indian scouts back of the forts between them and the cliffs. Thus he had the Indians surrounded, so far as seventy men could surround nearly twice their number in chosen fortifications. The whole place was popularly known as the Hell Caves of the Pitt River, although in the War Department and official records it is described more politely as the Infernal Caverns of the Pitt River. Getting his men in position, Crook acted promptly. In long thin lines on the north and south, taking advantage of the abundant cover, the soldiers cautiously advanced, clearing out the rifle pits and driving the Indians back toward their stronghold. There was severe fighting all during the afternoon, in which First Sergeant Charles Brackett and Private James Lyons were killed and a number were wounded. The Warm Spring Indians, who were good scouts, did not fancy this sort of warfare, and they took practically no part in the battle. They were useful enough in one way, as they checked any retreat toward the bluffs, although as it turned out the Indians had no intention of leaving. Finally, toward evening, the plateau was entirely cleared of Indians, who had all been forced back into the forts. Crook had sent a picket of soldiers to the edge of the basalt cliffs and these men, with long-range rifles, did some little execution on the defenders of the forts, although the distance was so great that their fire was largely ineffectual. Night found the soldiers ensconced behind boulders on the very rim of the ravine, the Indians in the forts. In little squads the {306} soldiers were withdrawn from the battlefield and sent down to the camp in the valley to get something to eat. They had been without food or water since morning, and fighting is about the hottest, thirstiest work that a man can engage in. After they had refreshed themselves, they went back to the plateau to keep watch over the fort. Desultory firing took place all night long, the Indians blazing away indiscriminately--they had plenty of ammunition, it appeared--and the soldiers firing at the flashes of the guns. The voices of the medicine men and the chiefs could be heard exhorting them and promising victory. Crook determined to storm the place at break of day. The darkness rendered it impossible to attempt the broken, precipitous descent and ascent of the ravine in the night. Light was needed for that. He had fought valiantly throughout the day, this major-general, as a common soldier in the ranks. He was a dead shot, and had used his Spencer carbine with effect whenever opportunity presented. He could assemble for the assault but forty men, twenty-two of the First Cavalry and eighteen of the Twenty-third Infantry. The Warm Spring auxiliaries refused to assault, such close work not being to their taste. There were several wounded men in the camp, and a small guard had to be kept there to protect them and the horses from the attacks of some of the Indians who had taken advantage of the night to escape from the stronghold to endeavor to stampede the herd, and who from various covers kept up a constant fire on the camp, so that Lieutenant Eskridge, quartermaster, had his hands full in holding his ground. First Lieutenant W. R. Parnell, now of San Francisco, who commanded the cavalry, was directed to {307} lead the assault. Second Lieutenant John Madigan, also of the cavalry, who had charge of the infantry, was ordered to support. The troops were directed to creep to the brink of the crevasses surrounding the fort and drop down it as quickly as possible. Arrived at the bottom, they were to scale the rocky counter-scarp, and when they got to the platform they were to keep moving while they attempted to break the wall of the fort proper. Crook, who believed in intimidation, advised them to yell and cheer as much as possible. The general crawled around during the night from man to man, acquainting every soldier with his ideas and "talking to them as a father." He reminds me a little of Henry V. before the battle of Agincourt. The task he had set his soldiers was desperate in the extreme. It speaks well not only for the general's reliance upon them, but for the quality of the men also, that he conceived it possible and that they carried it out effectively. So soon as it was fairly dawn the soldiers at a given signal dashed at the crest. So suddenly did they appear that, although the Indians in the fort across the ravine opened a terrific rifle and arrow fire upon them, not one was injured. Without a moment's hesitation, the men plunged down the walls, and sliding, falling, any way, they reached the bottom. There they were safe from the fire of the Indians, for the platform around the wall of the fort prevented the Indians from shooting into the ravine. Parnell's company immediately began the escalade of the cliffs. Madigan had not been so fortunate. Where he struck the ravine the wall happened to be absolutely sheer. Descent was not practicable. His men therefore stopped on the brink until he directed his infantrymen to circle the ravine until they found a {308} practicable descent and there join Parnell's men. He had scarcely given the order when a bullet pierced his brain. Some of his men were also struck down, others retired behind the rocks, made a detour and followed Parnell. The sides of the ravine were so precipitous that no man could scale them unaided. Two or three would lift up a fellow-soldier. After gaining a foothold he in turn would pull others up, and thus they slowly made their way to the edge of the cliffs, Crook climbing with the rest. They finally gained the banquette, or platform, after a difficult and exhausting climb. The Indians were behind the walls of the fort, the soldiers outside. Sergeant Michael Meara, leading the advance, peeped through a loop-hole, and was shot dead. Private Willoughby Sawyer, happening to pass by another orifice, was killed in the same way. In both cases the Indians were so close that the faces of both men were badly powder burned. A slug struck the wrist and an arrow pierced the body of Private Shea, hurling him to the bottom of the ravine. But the soldiers were not idle. Guns from each side were thrust through every loophole or crevice and discharged blindly. In this desperate method of fighting, the Indians, being contracted within the circle, suffered the more. While some were fighting thus, others were tearing down the rocky wall with hands and bayonets. A breach was soon made, and through it the soldiers streamed. The Indians, after one hasty volley, fled precipitately. The last man to leave the fort was the chief, Sa-hei-ta. As he leaped over the wall Crook's unerring Spencer sent a bullet into his spine, and he fell dead at the bottom of the ravine. The fort had been defended by at least fifty {309} Indians, and there were fifteen dead bodies in it. Among these was that of the chief medicine man. The soldiers ran to the western wall, and through loopholes opened a fire upon the Indians, who had joined their fellows in the other forts. The fire was fiercely returned. About nine in the morning one of the infantrymen, peering through a small crevice in the rock, found his view obstructed by a small weed. In spite of Parnell's caution, he uprooted it, leaving quite an opening, in which he was completely exposed. He was shot through the head instantly and fell unconscious.[1] The wounded, of which there were a number, were now taken to the camp about 11 A. M. The fire of the Indians having slackened, Crook, leaving a detachment in the fort, withdrew the rest of the men to the camp for breakfast. The Indians took advantage of this opportunity to charge the fort. The few defenders were driven out of the fortification and Sergeant Russler was killed, the third sergeant to lose his life that day! Rallying on the banquette, upon the return of the others, they in turn drove the Indians out of the fort. Neither party could occupy it all day long. The soldiers clung to the platform covering their dead in the fort on one side, while the Indians from the forts on the other side prevented the soldiers from re-entering. It was not until nightfall that the dead could be withdrawn. The soldiers re-occupied the fort at night, and although the Indians sent frequent volleys of arrows, which they shot into the air, hoping they would {310} fall upon the soldiers, and kept up an irregular fire, culminating in a sustained discharge about midnight, they made no attempt seriously to take the fort, although the soldiers, confidently expecting an attack, lay on their arms all night. During the last half of it not a sound came from the Indians. The next morning Crook prepared to resume the attack by assaulting the other forts, when his suspicions were awakened by a strange quiet, which continued in spite of several efforts to draw the Indian fire. Fearing some stratagem, he delayed until he could have speech with the interior forts by means of a wounded Indian squaw, whom they captured after cautious scouting. From this woman, whom they forced to speak by threatening to hang her, it was learned that the Indians had decamped during the night. The warriors had taken advantage of a long underground passage which led south and opened in a cave in the side of the cañon. This concealed way actually took them under the feet of Crook's soldiers, and sufficiently far from his camp and scouts to enable them, so quietly had they moved, to steal away undetected. They left their women and children in the caves. These caves were a perfect maze. To attempt to search them would have been impossible. Indeed, one soldier, Private James Carey, who saw the body of a dead Indian near the mouth of one of them, and who sought a scalp as a trophy, descended to the cave mouth and was shot dead by some one, probably a wounded brave, within the dark recesses. The Indians' loss was about forty killed. Crook had lost nearly a moiety--50 per cent.--of his entire force, an appalling proportion! One officer, six soldiers, one civilian had been killed, twelve soldiers, {311} including three corporals,[2] seriously wounded, two of them afterward died; and almost every survivor in the party had received some slight wound or had been badly bruised by falls in climbing over the broken rocks. Their clothing and shoes were cut to pieces, they were utterly worn out by two sleepless nights and two days' desperate fighting. They buried the brave soldiers in the valley, concealing their graves so that the Indians could not discover them and ravage them. Carrying their wounded in rude travels slung between horses and mules, and taking the body of brave young Madigan, who was buried in a lonely forgotten grave, one day's march from the battlefield, they returned to Camp Warner. With a greatly inferior force Crook had assailed the Indians on ground of their own choosing, which they believed to be impregnable, and had administered a crushing defeat. The escalade of the wall of the ravine, the breaching of the rampart, the storming of the fort, its defence, its abandonment and recapture, was one of the most gallant and heroic exploits ever performed in American history. Although he had paid dearly for his victory, the lesson Crook had inflicted upon the savages was a salutary one, and the disastrous defeat of the Indians in the Infernal Caverns of the Pitt River was a great factor in bringing about the subsequent pacification of that section. To-day the exploit is forgotten. All the officers, save one, and I presume most of the men, who participated, are dead. It is from the papers of the surviving officer, Colonel Parnell, and from official reports and a few meagre published accounts in newspapers and books that this story of American heroism has been prepared. [1] He lived three weeks without regaining his senses, and eventually died at Camp Warner, Ore., over one hundred and fifty miles away, whither he was carried with the other wounded, after the battle. [2] The loss among non-commissioned officers was especially heavy, showing how well these brave men did their duty. {315} VI Being a Boy Out West I am in some doubt as to whether to call this particular reminiscence "Pants That I Have Worn" or "Trousers Like Those Mother Used to Make." For either name seems admirably suitable to the situation. I was the oldest son in a numerous family, and therefore had the heritage of my father's clothes. He was an exceedingly neat and careful man, and never--to my sorrow be it said--did he ever wear out anything, unless it were an apple switch on me or my brothers. I had to wear out all his old clothes, it seemed to me. It was not a matter of choice but of necessity with me. My younger brother always escaped. By the time I had finished anything, there was no more of it. It went perforce to the ragman, if he would condescend to accept it. There was a certain sad, plum-colored, shad-bellied coat that flashes athwart my memory in hideous recollection, which wrapped itself portentiously about my slim figure, to the great delectation of my young friends and companions, and to my corresponding misery. I can recall their satirical criticisms vividly even now. They enjoyed it hugely, especially the little girls. Think of a small--say "skinny"--little boy, about nine or ten years old, in a purple shad-bellied coat which had been made to fit (?) him by cutting off the sleeves, also the voluminous tails just below the back buttons! {316} I could never understand the peculiar taste my father manifested in his younger days, for when I recall the age which permitted me to wear cut-down clothing (and that age arrived at an extraordinary early period in my existence, it appeared to me), such a fearful and wonderful assortment of miscellaneous garments of all colors, shapes and sizes as were resurrected from the old chests in the garret, where they had reposed in peaceful neglect for half a generation, the uninitiated can scarcely believe. The shad-bellied coat was bad enough--you could take that off, though--but there was something worse that stayed on. Fortunately there is one season in the year when coats in the small Western village, in which I lived, were at a discount, especially on small boys, and that was summer. But on the warmest of summer days the most recklessly audacious youngster has to wear trousers even in the most sequestered village. One pair rises before me among the images of many and will not down. The fabric of which this particular garment was made was colored a light cream, not to say yellow. There was a black stripe, a piece of round black braid down each leg, too, and the garment was as heavy as broadcloth and as stiff as a board. Nothing could have been more unsuitable for a boy to wear than that was. I rebelled and protested with all the strength of my infantile nature, but it was needs must--I had either to wear them or to remain in bed indefinitely. Swallowing my pride, in spite of my mortification, I put them on and sallied forth, but little consoled by the approving words and glances of my mother, who took what I childishly believed to be an utterly unwarranted pride in her--shall I say--adaptation or reduction? Those trousers had a {317} sentimental value for her, too, as I was to learn later. As for me, I fairly loathed them. Many times since then, I have been the possessor of a "best and only pair," but never a pair of such color, quality and shape. They were originally of the wide-seated, peg-top variety, quite like the fashion of to-day, by the way--or is it yesterday, in these times of sudden changes?--and when they were cut off square at the knee and shirred or gathered or reefed in at the waist, they looked singularly like the typical "Dutchman's breeches." I might have worn them as one of Hendrik Hudson's crew in "Rip Van Winkle"--which was, even in those days, the most popular play in which Joseph Jefferson appeared. You can see how long ago it was from that. Well, I put them on in bitterness of heart. How the other boys greeted me until they got used to them--which it seemed to me they never would! Unfortunately for them, anyway, they had only one day, one brief day, in which to make game of me; for the first time I wore them something happened. There was a pond on a farm near our house called, from its owner, "Duffy's Pond." The water drained into a shallow low depression in a large meadow, and made a mudhole, a cattle wallow. Little boys have a fondness for water, when it is exposed to the air--that is, when it is muddy, when it is dirty--which is in adverse ratio to their zest for nice, clean water in a nice clean tub. To bathe and be clean does not seem instinctive with boys. And how careful we were not to wet the backs of our hands and our wrists except when in swimming! And how hard did our parents strive to teach us to distribute our ablutions more generally! {318} Well, Mr. Duffy did not allow boys to swim in his pond, which made it all the more inviting. It was a hot August day when I first put on those cream-colored pants. Naturally, we went in swimming. Having divested ourselves of our clothing--and with what joy I cast off the hideous garment!--we had to wade through twenty or thirty yards of mud growing deeper and more liquid with every step, until we reached the water. We were having a great time playing in the ooze when Mr. Duffy appeared in sight. He was an irascible old man, and did not love his neighbors' children! He had no sympathy at all with us in our sports; he actually begrudged us the few apples we stole when they were unripe and scarce, and as for watermelons--ah, but he was an unfeeling farmer! Fortunately, he had no dog with him that morning, nothing but a gun--an old shotgun with the barrels sawed off at half their length, loaded with beans or bacon, or pepper or sand, I don't remember which--they were all bad enough if they hit you. The alarm was given instantly, and we made a wild rush for the tall grass through that mud. You can fancy how dirty we became, splashing, stumbling, wallowing in it. Mr. Duffy, firing beans at us from the rear, accelerated our pace to a frightful degree. Fortunately again, like Hamlet, he was "fat and scant o' breath," and we could run like deer, which we did. _En route_ I grabbed my shirt with one hand and those cream-colored pants with the other. The mud of that pond was the thick, black, sticky kind. It stained hideously anything light that it touched, as irrevocably as sin. Those trousers had been clasped against my boyish muddy breast or flapped against my muddy, skinny legs, and they were {319} a sight to behold! There was no water available for miles where we stopped. We rubbed ourselves off with the burnt grass of August and dusty leaves as well as we could, dressed ourselves and repaired home. I was a melancholy picture. The leopard could have changed his spots as easily as I. Yet I well remember the mixture of fierce joy and terrified apprehension that pervaded me. I arrived home about dinner-time. Father was there. "Wh--what!" he cried in astonishment. "Where have you been, sir?" "Those," sobbed my mother in anguished tones, "were your father's wedding trousers! I gave them to you with reluctance and as a great favor, you wretched boy, and--and--you have ruined them." I was taken upstairs, thoroughly washed, scrubbed--in the tub, which was bad enough--and when sufficiently clean to be handed to my father, he and I had an important interview in the wood-shed--our penal institution--over which it were well to draw the curtain. There was a happy result to the adventure, however: I never wore the cream-colored pants again, and hence my joy. The relief was almost worth the licking. Some of the material, however, was worked up into a patchwork quilt, and of the rest my mother made a jacket for my sister. My mother could not look upon those things without tears; neither could I! Why is it that grown people will be so inconsiderate about a little boy's clothes? It was the fashion of many years before I was born for people--that is, men and boys--to wear shawls. There was a dearth in the family exchequer on one occasion--on many occasions, I may say, but this {320} was a particular one. I had no overcoat, at least not one suitable for Sunday, and really it would have been preposterous to have attempted to cut down one of father's for me. That feat was beyond even my mother's facile scissors, and she could effect marvels with them, I knew to my cost. It was a bitter cold winter day, I remember, and my mother, in the kindness of her heart, brought to light one of those long, narrow, fringed, brilliantly colored plaided shawls, so that I should not miss Sunday school. I was perfectly willing to miss it, then or any other time, for any excuse was a good one for that. But no, I was wrapped up in it in spite of my frantic protests and despatched with my little sister--she who wore the cream-colored trousers-jacket--to the church. Strange to say, she did not mind at all. We separated outside the house door, and I ran on alone. I had evolved a deep, dark purpose. I went much more rapidly than she, and as soon as I turned the corner, and was safely out of sight, I tore off that hateful shawl and when I arrived at the meeting-house I ignominiously thrust it into the coal heap in the dilapidated shed in the corner of the lot. I was almost frozen by the time I arrived, but any condition was better than that shawl. The Sunday school exercises proceeded as usual, but in the middle of them, the janitor who had gone into the coal house for the wherewithal to replenish the fires, came back with the shawl. I had rammed it rather viciously under the coal, and it was a filthy object. The superintendent held it up by finger and thumb and asked to whom it belonged. "Why, that's our Johnny's" piped up my little sister amid a very disheartening roar of laughter from the {321} school. There was no use in my denying the statement. Her reputation for veracity was much higher than mine, and I recognized the futility of trying to convince any one that she was mistaken. At the close of the session I had to wrap myself in that coal-stained garment and go forth. I was attended by a large delegation of the scholars when the school was over. They did not at all object to going far out of their way to escort me home, and they left me at my own gate. It was Sunday, and it was against my father's religious principles to lick us on Sunday--that was one of the compensations, youthful compensations of that holy day--but Monday wasn't far off, and father's memory was remarkably acute. Ah, those sad times, but there was fun in them, too, after all. There was a little boy who lived near us named Henry Smith. He and I were inseparable. He had a brother three years older than himself whose name was Charles. Charles was of course much taller and stronger than Henry and myself, and he could attend to one of us easily. But both of us together made a pretty good match for him. Consequently we hunted in couples, as it were. Charles was unduly sensitive about his Christian name. I think he called it his unchristian name. Not the "Charles" part of it, that was all right, but his parents had inconsiderately saddled him with the hopeless additional name of Peter Van Buskirk Smith! All we had to do to bring about a fight was to approach him and address him as "Peter Van Buskirk." He bitterly resented it, which was most unreasonable of him. I recall times when the three of us struggled in the haymow for hours at a time, Peter Van Buskirk, furiously angry, striving to force an apology or retraction, and Henry and I having a glorious time refusing him. We were safe enough while we were together, but when he caught us alone--O my! I can remember it yet. He was always Charles, at that time, but it was of no use. Yet notwithstanding the absolute certainty of a severe thrashing when he caught us singly, we never could refrain from calling him "Peter Van Buskirk" when we were together. Why is it that parents are so thoughtless about the naming of their children? I knew a boy once named Elijah Draco and there was another lad of my acquaintance who struggled under the name of Lord Byron. That wasn't so bad, because we shortened it to "By," but "Elijah Draco" was hopeless, so we called him "Tommy," as a rebuke to his unfeeling parents. Charles Peter Van Buskirk was a funny boy. He was as brave as a lion. You could pick him up by the ears, which were long--and shall I say handy?--and he never would howl. We knew that was the way to tell a good dog. "Pick him up by the ears; an' if he howls, he'll be no fighter!" And we thought what was a good test for a dog could not be amiss for a boy. He had a dog once, sold to him for a quarter when it was a pup by a specious individual of the tramp variety, as one of the finest "King-Newf'un'lan'--Bull Breed." His appetite and his vices were in proportion to his descriptions, but he had no virtues that we could discover. With a boy's lack of inventiveness we called him "Tiger" although anything less ferocious than he would be hard to find. He was more like a sheep in spirit than anything else. But Charles thought he saw signs of promise in that pup, and in spite of our disparaging remarks he clung to him. Charles knew a lot about dogs, or thought he did, which was the same thing. I remember we were trying to teach Tige to "lead" one day. He had no more natural aptitude for leading than an unbroken calf. The perverse dog at last flattened himself down on his stomach, spread-eagled himself on the ground, and stretched his four legs out as stiff as he could. We dragged him over the yard until he raised a pile of dirt and leaves in front of him like a plow in an untilled field. He would not "lead," although we nearly choked him to death trying to teach him. Then we tried picking him up by the ears, applying that test for courage and blood, you know! You might have heard that dog yelp for miles. He had no spirit at all. Charles Peter Van Buskirk was disgusted with him. We got out a can of wagon-grease and spotted him artistically to make him look like a coach-dog, which was legitimate, as coach-dogs are notoriously remarkable for lack of courage. They are only for ornament. That was a pretty-looking animal when it rained. We changed his name, too, and called him "Kitty," regardless of his sex. It was the last insult to a dog, we thought, but he never seemed to mind it. I feel sorry for that dog as I look back at him now, and it rather provoked Charles when we subsequently asked his opinion of any other dog. This we did as often as there were enough of us together to make it safe. When we felt very reckless, we used to go in swimming in the river, which was a very dangerous proceeding indeed, for the Missouri is a treacherous, wicked {324} stream, full of "suck-holes" and whirlpools and with a tremendous current, especially during the June "rise." The practice was strictly forbidden by all right-minded parents, including our own. Frequently, however, in compliance with that mysterious sign, the first two fingers of the right hand up-lifted and held wide apart, which all boys over a thousand miles of country knew meant "Will you go swimming?" we would make up a party after school and try the flood. Father usually inspected us with a rather sharper eye, when we came sneaking in the back way after such exercises. For a busy man, father had a habit, that was positively maddening, of happening upon a boy at the wrong time. We used to think we had no privacy at all. "Hum!" he was wont to say, looking suspiciously at our wet, sleek heads and general clean appearance--clean for us, that is, for the Missouri River, sandy though it was, was vastly cleaner than Duffy's Pond or puddles of that ilk--"been in swimming again, have you? In the river, I'll be bound." Two little boys, my brother and I would choke out some sort of a mumbling evasion in lieu of a reply. "How did you get your hair wet?" the old man would continue, rising and feeling two guilty little heads. "Per-perspiration, sir," we would gasp out faintly. "And that vile odor about you? Hey? Is that perspiration, too?" sniffing the air with a grim resolution that made our hearts sink. We had been smoking drift-wood, the vilest stuff that anybody can put in his mouth. This was enough to betray us. "It's no use, boys; you needn't say another word," father would add in the face of our desperate and awful {325} attempts at an adequate explanation. "You know what I told you. Go to the wood-shed!" Oh, that wood-shed! "Abandon ye all hope who enter here" should have been written over its door. Often mother would interfere--bless her tender heart!--but not always. Father was a small man of sedentary habits, not given to athletic exercises. A board across two barrels afforded a convenient resting-place for the arms and breast of the one appointed to receive the corporal punishment, and a barrel stave was an excellent instrument with which to administer it. I said father was a small, weak man. When he got through with us we used to think he would have made a splendid blacksmith. Our muscles were pretty strong, and our skin callous--"the hand of little use hath the daintier touch!"--but they were as nothing to his. We always tired of that game before he did, although we played it often. Two of us, I recall, have carried large tubs up the steep bank from the river to the train at 4 A. M. on a summer morning, when the circus came to town. We were proud to be privileged to water the elephants, but it killed us to split wood for a day's burning in the kitchen stove. We never were good for anything except assisting the circus people, on circus day. School was torture, and it was generally dismissed. Our father was mayor of the town, and the mayor's children usually got in free. On one occasion we yielded to the solicitations of our most intimate friends and assembled thirty of them in a body. This group of children of all ages and sizes--and there was even one lone "nigger" in it--we were to pass through the gate by declaring that we were the mayor's children. "Great heavens!" cried the ticket man, appalled {326} at the sight, "How many blame children has the mayor of the town got? Is he a Mormon, anyway, or what? An' how about that one?" pointing to the darky. Father was standing near. We had not seen him. He turned and surveyed the multitude, including the black boy, that we had foisted upon him. It was a humorous situation, but father didn't see it that way. He sent all of us home with a few scathing words. My younger brother and I wanted to go to that circus more than we ever wanted to go to any circus before. We slept in a half-story room with windows opening on the porch roof. That night we climbed out on the roof and slid down the porch to the ground at the risk of breaking our necks. Henry and Charles met us by appointment. We none of us had any money and we resolved to sneak in, our services at watering the elephants not being considered worthy of a ticket. My brother and I got in safely under the canvas in one place. Henry succeeded in effecting an entrance in another, but Charles Peter Van Buskirk got caught. A flat board in the hands of a watchman made a close connection with his anatomy. Charles was hauled back, well paddled and sent home. Circuses were a tabooed subject where he was concerned for some time thereafter. William, my brother, and I clambered through the legs of the crowd on the seats after we got into the canvas tent. As luck would have it, we ran right into the arms of our father. I was paralyzed, but William burst out with a boldness that savored of an inspiration, "Why father, you here? I thought you were going to prayer-meeting." Everybody laughed, father said nothing; some one made room for us, and we watched the performance {327} with mingled feelings of delight and apprehension. The wood-shed loomed up awfully black as we passed it that night. We held our breath. However, father never said anything to us but, "Good night, boys. I hope you had a good time." We certainly had. And we escaped the usual licking, deserved though it was. And it wasn't Sunday, either. But where was I? O, yes! Charles Peter Van Buskirk one Saturday morning announced his intention of going on an expedition across the river. Over the river from where we lived was "Slab Town," dilapidated little settlement of no social or moral consideration. The old captain, the pilot of the wheezy ferry-boat _Edgar_, was our sworn friend, and allowed us to ride free as often as we could get away. Charles intended crossing the river to get pawpaws. A pawpaw is an easily mashed fruit, three or four inches long, with a tough skin inclosing a very liquid pulp full of seeds, and about as solid as a cream puff, when it is dead ripe. It grows on a low, stunted bush-like tree. We were mighty fond of pawpaws, but little fellows as we were didn't dare to cross the river and venture into "Slab Town" or its vicinity, for such an excursion within its territory usually provoked a fight with the young ruffians of that hamlet, who hated the village boys as aristocrats. "You'd better not go over there, Charles," we advised him timorously. "Those Slab Town boys will take your pawpaws away from you." I can see now the chesty movement with which Charles stuck out his breast, threw back his shoulders, curved inward and swung his arms, and went away basket in hand, remarking in a lordly manner; "Aw, who's goin' to take _my_ pawpaws?" {328} It was evening when the rash youth returned. He came slinking up the back alley in a vain endeavor to elude observation, but we had a number of his and our friends on the watch for him--to see that he returned safely, of course--and we gave him a royal greeting. We had been true prophets, though without honor in Charles's sight. The Slab Town boys had taken his pawpaws in a spirit of aggressive appropriation, which was bad enough, but with rare and unusual generosity they had afterward returned them to Charles. They had not put them back in his basket, however, but had heaped them indiscriminately upon his person. It appears that he must have run for miles pursued by a howling mob of all the ruffians over there, engaged in the happy pastime of throwing soft, mushy pawpaws at him. Charles could hardly see; in fact he could hardly walk. He was plastered with pawpaws from his head to his feet. Thereafter when we wanted to provoke a fight, all that was necessary when the unappreciated portion of his name was flung at him and was not sufficient to awaken his ire, was to throw out our chests, hold back our shoulders, curve our arms and say in a throaty voice, "Who's going to take _my_ pawpaws?" I feel tempted to use the old phrase in certain modern circumstances to-day when it seems to fit some bold and reckless endeavor. I have never forgotten Charles's "who's-goin'-to-take-_my_-pawpaws" air! We were sometimes able to get a little money together by doing odd jobs--not for our parents, however, but for the neighbors. We had plenty of odd jobs to do at home, but such work was a matter of obligation and not remunerative, nor was it interesting. With this money Henry and I each bought a game-chicken, {329} which we kept cooped up separately in the back lot behind the stable. Neither father nor mother knew anything about it, of course. We would let these two game-cocks out half a dozen times a day. They would rush at each other fiercely, but before the battle was fairly on, we would summarily part them, and put them back in their coops, which were placed opposite each other, when they would indulge in chicken-swearing and personalities as much as they desired. Their appetites for fighting were whetted indeed. In fact, there was so much animosity engendered between these two birds that they would rush together like two express trains trying to pass each other on the same track whenever they were turned loose. There was no time sparring for time or position. It was fight from the moment they saw each other, although we never let them strike more than one blow or two. A half-minute round was enough for us. I think it really scared us. Charles, in spirit of revenge, let them out one day during our absence. When we got back from school we had only one chicken between us. It was a wonderful chicken, for it had beaten the other, although the conquered bird had fought until it had been killed. We burned him on a funeral pyre as a dead gladiator, with much ceremony and boyish speaking. We wanted to sacrifice to his _manes_ a hen as his wife, but finally concluded to abandon that part of the ceremony; mother kept count of the hens, you see. Of course, Julius Caesar (as we named him) had the run of the yard thereafter, there being no one to oppose him. He led a very peaceful life until our next door neighbor bought a large Shanghai rooster. I forgot now what particular breed our rooster was, {330} but he was small, not much larger than a bantam. The Shanghai rooster, which was a huge monster, had the most provoking crow, large, loud and aggressive. An alley intervened between the yard where he held forth and our yard. One day we came home from school and looked for our chicken. He was gone! We hunted everywhere for him, but could not find him. We missed the crowing of the Shanghai rooster, which had been frequent and exasperating, I have no doubt. The yard was very silent. We pursued our investigations with zeal and finally reached the alley. It had been raining heavily for almost a week, and the alley was a mass of black, sticky mud. Gazing anxiously over the fence, we heard a feeble chirp from a large gob of mud in the alley. It was our rooster! The Shanghai had rashly ventured into supposed neutral ground in that alley and had crowed once too often. The little game cock had squeezed through the fence and come over to investigate the situation. They had fought there in the mud. The mud was too deep for the Shanghai to run and the bantam killed him. During the battle the victor had become so covered with mud that he could neither move nor crow nor see. He was in a worse state than Charles with the pawpaws, and indifferent to honors. We took him and washed him. He seemed none the worse for his adventure, but that battle must have been a royal one. It was the second one we had not seen! We felt like the Roman public deprived of its "_Circenses_." We really never did see that chicken fight, for he got the pip or something, a few days after, perhaps from the microbes in the alley, and in spite of our careful nursing, or possibly because of it, he died. He died just in time, too, for after we had put {331} him away with more ceremony than we had used before, father who had got some inkling of the affair, suddenly broke out at supper: "Boys, are you keeping game-cocks in the back lot? Fighting-chickens, eh?" "No, sir," we both answered meekly, with a clear conscience and a steady eye. We had lots of pets in those days; some time they may serve for another story. THE END {335} INDEX A Abancay, battle of, 102. Acla, Spanish settlement, 45-49 Aguilar, Geronimo de, 122 Alcántara, Martin de, 54, 106, 107 Alderete, the King's Treasurer, 205-212 _Alfred_, the, Jones's first ship, 283 Almagrists, the, 106, 111 Almagro, Diego de, 57-67; 88-93; 101-104; 107 Diego, the son, 104, 108, 109 Alvarado, Pedro de, called Tonatiuh, 102, 109, 174, 184, 186, 187, 194 Amazon River, 105 America, Central, 3 South, 3, 4, 18, 27 Anahuac, Empire of, 125 Andalusia, New, 7 Antigua del Darien, Maria de la, 20, 23-27; 33-41 Arbolancha, 42 Arguello, the notary, 48, 49 Arrows, poisoned, used by Indians, 10, 11, 13, 14 Astor, John Jacob, 261-272 Fur Trading Company, 262 Astoria, 262-276 Atahualpa, 71-92; 108 Avila, Pedro Arias de, called Pedrarias, 32-35; 42-50; 56 Ayxacatl, 169,176 Aztec Empire, 115, 116, 125, 132 Holy of Holies, 134 wealth, 135 last of the Kings, 219 Aztecs, the, 69, 116, 125-130; 133, 176, 182-187; 194-198; 215-219 B Badajoz, 53 Bahamas, the, 4 Balboa, Vasco Nuñez de, accompanies Encisco to San Sebastian, 19 placed in charge at Antigua, 20 seeks to serve Nicuesa, 25 further adventures, 31-50 referred to, 107 Barron, James, 251, 252 Bastidas, an explorer, 5 "Battery of the Fearless," referred to, 74 (footnote) Bay, Chesapeake, 4 Bentham, Jeremy, 248 Biddle, Major Thomas, 255 Biru, land of, early name of Peru, 56 chieftain named, 56 _Bonhomme Richard_, the, 285, 286 Bowie, James, 252-254 knives, 253 Brackett, Charles, 305 Broderick, Senator, 256-258 Buccaneers, the, 3 Burr, Aaron, 248 C Cabot, John, 4 Cabral, Portuguese explorer, 5 Caceres, 53 Cacique, Indian, Caonabo, 6 Cemaco, 20 Careta, of Cueva, 36 Comagre, 37, 56 of Tenepal, 115 Monteczuma, so called in Cortes's letter, 156 Quahpopoca, 172 of Tlacuba, 216 Cannibalism universal among Aztecs, 126 Capac, Manco, 68, 85, 92, 93, 95, 111, 112 Huayna, 71, 108 Cape, de la Vela, 7 Gracias á Dios, 7 Careta, Cacique of Cueva, 36 Caribbean Sea, 3, 13 Carrero, Alonzo de Puerto, 123 Cartagena, 10, 18 Carvajal, 109-111 Castile, Golden, 8 King of, 40 Joanna of, 41 Castro, Vaca de, 109 Caverns, Infernal, of Pitt River, 311 Caxamarca, massacre of, 73-85 Cempoalla, town of, 135 Cacique of, 135 people of, 135, 166 Central America, 3 Chalcuchimo, 72, 85, 92 Chapus, field of, 109 Charles V., of Spain, 82, 88, 92, 95, 109, 137, 147, 217, 218, 220 Chase, Owen, mate of the _Essex_, 231 Chaves, Francisco de, 106 Chesapeake, Bay, 4 American ship, 251 Chili, Almagro goes to, 93 Valdivia partially conquers, 109 Men of, 102-107 coast of, 231, 237 Cholula, 140, 145, 146 Cholulans, the, 145, 146, 194 Cilley, Jonathan, 255, 256 Cipango, referred to, 37 Claverhouse, compared with Cortes, 120 Coatzacualco, Province of, 115 Colmenares, Rodrigo de, 23 Columbus, Christopher, 4, 5, 6, 23, 37, 117, 132 Diego, 9, 35 Comagre, Indian chief, 37, 56 Conception, a whaling ground, 231 Cordova, Gonsalvo de, 117 Cortes, Hernando (or Fernando), mentioned, 9, 75, 107; lands at Vera Cruz, 116; story of his birth and early life, 117; voyage to Santo Domingo and Cuba, 118; described by Helps and Diaz, 118-120; expedition to Mexico, 120-125; march to Tenochtitlan, 130; personal character of, 133; describes Tlascala, 138-140; massacres Cholulans, 145, 146; describes Mexico, 147-162; meets Montezuma, 162-167; seizes the Emperor, 171-173; Mexico rebels against, 175; attacks Mexico, 192-218; the end of, 218-223; descriptions of, 223-228 Cosa, Juan de la, 4, 5, 7, 10, 12 Costa Rica, 21 Coya, the Inca's legal wife, 72 Crook, George, 301-311 Crozier, William, captain of the brig _Indian_, 240 Cuba, 3, 16, 55, 120 Cueyabos, 16 Cuitlahua, 136, 176, 191 Cuzco, 75, 85, 87, 92, 93, 102-111 D Darien, Isthmus of, 5, 26, 32, 37, 55, 109 Maria de la Antigua del, 20, 23-27; 33-41 Quevedo, Bishop of, 33, 44 _Dauphin_, Nantucket Whaler, 242 Davila, another name for Pedrarias, 32 (footnote) De Candia, 66, 73, 79, 104, 109 Decatur, Stephen, 251, 252 De Soto, Hernando, 33, 67, 68; 77-89; 107 Despotism, communistic, form of government on South American coast, 68 Diaz, Bernal, 119, 124, 134, 135, 167, 179 (footnote), 223, 224, 225 Porfirio, 224 Dickinson, Charles, 248-250 Dios, Nombre de, 23, 36 Disappointment, Cape, 269, 270 _Duras, Duc de_, an East Indiaman, 285 E El Dorado, 9, 57, 59, 93 El Galan, nickname of Pedrarias, 33 El Justador, nickname of Pedrarias, 33 Encisco, 8; 17-20; 31, 32, 42, 66 English, their first appearance on the South American coast, 5 Espinosa, 33, 48, 60 Esquivel, Juan de, 9 _Essex_, the whaleship, 231-242 Estremadura, birthplace of the Pizarros, 53 birthplace of Cortes, 117 F Felippo, the interpreter, 82, 89, 90 Ferdinand, King, of Spain, 5, 7, 41 Fiske, John, 4, 43, 63 (footnote), 122, 125, 168, 226 Florida, 4 Fonseca, Bishop, 7, 33 Fox, Ebenezer, 268, 269 "Furor Domini," name given to Pedrarias, 43 G Gallo, Island of, 62 Garavito, Andres, 47 Gasca, 110-112 Golden Castile, 8 Gonzales, Francisca, 54 Gorgona, Island of, 63 Graves, William J., 255, 256 Grijilva, Juan de, 120 Guatemoc (or Guatemotzin), 137, 177, 191, 193, 194, 216, 225 Guatemotzin, popular name for Guatemoc, 191, 216 Guayaquil, Gulf of, 67 Gulf, of Mexico, 3 explorations on, coast, 5 of Darien, 5, 20, 55 of Uraba, 7 of Venezuela, 7 of San Miguel, 56 of Guayaquil, 67 Guzman, Tello de, 50 H Hamilton, Alexander, 248 Helps, Sir Arthur, the historian, referred to, 63 (footnote), 70, 78, 118, 124, 178, 188, 220, 224 Herrera, referred to, 179 (footnote) Honduras, 4, 5, 8, 13, 219 Hopkins, Sterling A., 257 Horn, Cape, 266 Horses introduced to the natives of South America, 13 Huarina, battlefield of, 110 Huascar, son of Huayna, 72, 85, 108 Huitzilopochtli, Aztec god of war, 126, 127, 184 I Inca, the young, Manco Capac, 68 the Empire, 69 civilization, 69 "Child of the Sun," 71 Pizarro's capture of the, 75-84 ransom and murder of the, 85-92 and Peruvians strike for freedom, 93-102 Incas, the, 69-112 _Independence_, the, privateer, 284 _Indian_, the brig, of London, 240 Indian wife, Balboa's, 37, 44, 47, 48 Indians, Warm Spring, 302-306 Indies, the, 7, 8, 10 Isabella, Queen, and her court mentioned, 6 Island, of Gallo, the, 62, 63 (foot-note) of Gorgona, the, 63 of Puna, 67 Island, St. Mary's, 231, 242 Ducie, 239, 242 of Massafera, 240 Islands, Society, 237 Sandwich, 237, 267 Cape Verde, 264 Falkland, 265 Vancouver, 271 Isles of Pearls, 59 Isthmus, of Darien, 5, 26, 32, 37, 109, 116 of Panama, 5, 27, 50, 110 Ixlilxochitl, referred to, 179 (footnote) Ixtaccihuatl, 144 Iztatapalan, 195 J Jackson, Andrew, 248-250 Jamaica, 8, 17 Jones, John Paul, 281-297 William Paul, 290-295 Mrs. Willie, 290, 296 Colonel Cadwallader, 296 Joy, Matthew, mate of the _Essex_, 231, 239 Juarez, Benito, 224 K King, John II. of France, referred to, 86 (footnote) Kirk, referred to, 63 (footnote) L _Leopard_, British ship, 251 Lepe, an explorer, 5 Lewis, James, 263-277 Lima, 93, 98, 101, 105, 111 Lorenzana, Archbishop, referred to, 198 (footnote) Louden, Mary Paul, sister of John Paul Jones, 291 Luque, 60-67 Lyons, James, 305 M McKay, 262-277 MacNutt, referred to, 128, 225 Maddox, Dr., 252 Madigan, John, 307-311 Magellan, referred to, 39 (footnote), 61 (footnote) Straits of, 109 Main, the Spanish, 3, 5 Malinal (or Marina) 115, 116; 123-125; 135, 145, 219 Malinche, shorter form of Malintzin, 124, 208, 209, 217 Malintzin, Aztec name for Cortes, 124 Marco Polo, referred to, 37 Maria, Donna, daughter of Cortes, 223 Marina, Malinal, baptized as, 124 Markham, referred to, 4, 63 (footnote), 78, 87 Massacre of Caxamarca, 73-85 Maxixcatzin, 141 Mayas, the, 122 Medellin, native city of Cortes, 117 Mexico, the Gulf of, 3, 116 the country of, 53, 127 Aztec Empire of, 115, 125 shores of, 117 City of, 125, 137, 146-162 Republic of, 126, 224 valley of, 144, 218 King of, 217 Mexitl, one of the names of Aztec war god, 126 Montezuma Xocoyotzin, Emperor of Mexico, 115; sends messengers to Cortes, 135, 137; described, 136, 137; and the Tlascalans, 140, 141; agrees to receive Cortes, 143; meeting with Cortes, 162-168; seizure of, 171-173; deposed, 176; end of, 178-180 N Napoleon at Toulon, referred to, 74 (footnote) Narvaez, Panfilo de, 174, 175 Navigators, the fifteenth-century, 4 New Andalusia, 7 Newity, Nootka village, 271 Nicuesa, Diego de, 3, 5, 8, 20, 27 Nombre de Dios, 23, 36 Nootkas, the, 271 O Ojeda, Alonza de, 3; heads first important expedition along South American coast, 4; second voyage, 5; arrives at Santo Domingo, 8; adventures of, 10-19; referred to, 55 Olano, Lope de, 21, 22, 24 Ordaz, 144 Orellano, commander under Gonzalo Pizarro, 105 Orgonez, 102, 103 Orinoco, the, 4 Otumba, valley of, 191 Otumies, tribe of, 141 Ovando, an explorer with Nicuesa, 7 Oviedo, quoted, 56, 57, 179 (footnote) P Pacific, the, so called by Magellan, 39 (footnote) discovery of, 39-42 Balboa reaches, 45 Painala, town of, 115 Lord of, 115 Panama, Pedrarias dies at, 50 Pedrarias the founder and governor of, 56 Pizarro living in, 57 Pizarro sends ship to, 62 Pedro de los Rios, governor of, 62 referred to, 63, 65, 66 States, 116 Parnell, W. R., 306-311 "Pearl Coast," the, 4 Pedrarias, 32-35; 42-50; 107 Perez, Gomez, 111, 112 Peru, 40, 53, 63, 64, 66, 68, 93, 95, 105, 109, 237 Peruvians, the, 69-102 Pettis, Congressman Spencer, 255 Philip II., 65 Pizarrists, the, 106 Pizarro, Francisco, 9, 16, 18, 38-40; 48, 54, 55-107 Hernando, 54, 55, 67, 79, 93, 96-108 Juan, 54, 96-99 Gonzalo, the father, 53, 54 Gonzalo, the son, 54, 96-101 Pedro, 90 Pizarros, the, 46, 67, 96, 104, 105, 108-110 Pizons, the, explorers, 5 Pollard, James, captain of the _Essex_, 231 Popocatepetl, 144 Popotla, 190 Porto Rico, 5 Potosi, the mines of, 65, 109, 110 Prescott, the historian, referred to, 63 (footnote) reference to account of Inca civilization by, 69 reference to amount of Inca's ransom, according to, 87 Q Quarequa, Indian chief, 39 Quetzalcoatl, Toltec god, 129, 136 Quevedo, Bishop of Darien, 33 Quichua, the language of Peru, 82 Quinones, Antonio de, 202 Quito, 71, 91, 105, 109 Quiz-Quiz, 72, 85 R Rada, Juan de, 105-112 _Ranger_, the, one of Jones's ships, 284 Ribero, Diego de, 21, 22 Rios, Pedro de los, 62, 65 Ruiz, 60-63 (and footnote), 65, 66 S Sacsahuaman, 94, 97-99 Salamanca, University of, 117 Salinas, the plains of, 103 San Mateo, 67 San Miguel, 41, 56, 73 San Sebastian, 14, 16, 17, 19 Santiago River, 66 Santo Domingo, 8, 14, 19, 118 "Scourge of God," the, name given to Pedrarias, 43 Sea, Caribbean, 3 Sea of the South, so called by Balboa, 39 _Serapis_, the battle with the, 285-287 Shoshone nation, 301-304 Slavery, human, introduced into Peru by Christians, 95 South Sea, the, so called by Balboa, 39 voyage, 44 Pizarro's first sight of, 56 Spanish, Main, the, 3, 5 Court, the, 6, 7 rule in Mexico, 226 in Peru, 226 "Starvation Harbor," 58, 59 T Tabascans, the, 116, 123, 134 Tabasco, 122 Tacuba, 190, 199, 206, 216 Tafur, Pedro, 62-65 Talavera, 16, 17 Temixtitan, name for Mexico, 147, 148, 162 Temple of the Sun, at Cuzco, 87 Tenochtitlan, or City of Mexico, 125 the march to, 130-137 Teocalli, 145 Terry, Ex-chief Justice, 256-258 Teules, Aztec name for Cortes and his followers, 136 Texcoco, 136 Tezcatlipoca, Aztec god, 127 Tezcocans, the, 194 Tezcoco, province of, 194; lake of, 195 Thorn, Jonathan, 261-275 Tianguizco, 199 Tlacopan, 128 Tlaloc, Aztec god of waters, 126 Tlaltelulco, 199 Tlascala, 136, 138-140, 141, 190-192 Tascalans, the, 140-144, 166, 191-219 Toltecs, the, 125, 129, 130 _Tonquin_, the ship, 261-277 Toparca, 92 Torquemada, referred to, 179 (footnote) Totonacs, the, 136 Toulon, Napoleon at, 74 (footnote) Treasure, the, of Peru, 64 Trujillo, 53, 66 Tumbez, town of, 65 Almagro made Governor of, 66 Pizarro lands at, 68 U Uraba, Gulf of, 7 V Valdivia, lieutenant of Francisco Pizarro, 31, 109 Valparaiso, 240, 242 Valsa, the river, 45 Valverde, Fra Vincente de, 80-83; 90, 91, 111 Vega, Garcilasso de la, 63 (footnote) Vela, Blasco Nuñez, 109 Velasquez, Diego de, 118-121; 131 Juan, 183-186 Venezuela, Gulf of, 7 Veragua, 5, 13, 27 Vera Cruz, 116, 130, 134, 135 Vespucci, Amerigo, 4 W Wallace, Lew, quoted, 131, 178 Weeks, Armorer, 269-277 Wells, Samuel, 252 Winsor, 4 X Xaquixaguana, valley of, 110, 111 Xicalango, traders of, 116 Xicotencatl, 141-143 Xuaca, 85 Y Yucatan coast, 122 Yucay, mountains of, 100 Z Zamudio, 20, 31, 32, 35, 38 
45011	----	(This file was produced from scans of public domain material produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVAL HISTORY SOCIETY CERTIFIES THAT THIS COPY OF THE LOGS OF THE SERAPIS, ALLIANCE, AND ARIEL IS No. 175 OF THREE HUNDRED COPIES, PRINTED FOR THE SOCIETY ONLY OFFICERS OF THE NAVAL HISTORY SOCIETY 1910-11 PRESIDENT CAPTAIN JOHN S. BARNES VICE-PRESIDENT REAR-ADMIRAL F. E. CHADWICK, U. S. N., RET. SECRETARY AND TREASURER ROBERT WILDEN NEESER 1076 Chapel St., New Haven, Conn. BOARD OF MANAGERS CAPTAIN JOHN S. BARNES REAR-ADMIRAL F. E. CHADWICK, U. S. N., RET. COLONEL W. C. CHURCH LOYALL FARRAGUT REAR-ADMIRAL C. F. GOODRICH, U. S. N., RET. CHARLES T. HARBECK GRENVILLE KANE JOHN FORSYTH MEIGS ROBERT W. NEESER HERBERT L. SATTERLEE REAR-ADMIRAL C. H. STOCKTON, U. S. N., RET. EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE REAR-ADMIRAL C. F. GOODRICH, U. S. N., RET. CAPTAIN JOHN S. BARNES REAR-ADMIRAL F. E. CHADWICK, U. S. N., RET. JOHN FORSYTH MEIGS ROBERT W. NEESER PUBLICATIONS OF THE NAVAL HISTORY SOCIETY VOLUME I [Illustration: John Paul Jones Tels hommes rarement se peuvent présenter, Et quand le Ciel les donne, il faut en profiter.] THE LOGS OF THE SERAPIS--ALLIANCE--ARIEL UNDER THE COMMAND OF JOHN PAUL JONES 1779-1780 WITH EXTRACTS FROM PUBLIC DOCUMENTS, UNPUBLISHED LETTERS, AND NARRATIVES, AND ILLUSTRATED WITH REPRODUCTIONS OF SCARCE PRINTS EDITED BY JOHN S. BARNES LATE LIEUTENANT COMMANDER, U. S. N. NEW YORK PRINTED FOR THE NAVAL HISTORY SOCIETY BY THE DE VINNE PRESS MDCCCCXI Copyright, 1911, by THE NAVAL HISTORY SOCIETY CONTENTS PAGE Foreword xiii List of Officers and Men of the Continental Ship, Bon Homme Richard, July the 26th, 1779 3 A List of The Men Names that has Desarted from The Bone Homme Richard, Lorient July. 19th. 1779 18 A List of Officers, & Men, belonging to the American Continental Ship of War, Ariel, Commanded, by the Honble, John Paul Jones 20 Some Remarkable Occurrences that happened on the 23d day of September 1779--relative to the Bon Homme Richard, and the Serapis.--Commanded by Richard Pearson Esqr 24 A Journall Kept on Board the Serapis, an English Ship of War, of 44 Guns taken the 23rd. of September, (by the Bon Homme Richd.,) now Commanded by the Honble. John Paul Jones 25 A Journall Kept on Board the American Continentall Frigate of War, Alliance of 36 Guns, under, the Command of the Honble, John Paul Jones 42 An Account of Occurrences in L'Orient respecting the Bon Homme Richards Officers & Crew 90 A Journall Kept on Board the American Continental Ship of War, Ariel, of 26.... Nine Pounders, Commanded by the Honble. John Paul Jones Esqr. 91 Appendix A.--Copies of the remarks in the log of the Bon Homme Richard for the 22d, 23d and 24th September. The log is now in the possession of the Selkirk family, at St. Mary's Isle. A typewritten copy, with facsimiles of several pages, is in the Library of the Navy Department 123 Appendix B.--A letter of Captain James Nicholson to Captain John Barry, dated June 24th, 1781--relative to Jones' efforts before Congress to obtain higher rank in the reorganized navy 125 Appendix C.--A letter of Jones to the Honble. E. Hopkins, Esquire, Admiral of the American Fleet, dated on board the Providence, at sea, Lat. 37° 40' N., and Long. 54° W. per the Brig Sea Nymph, Capt. W. Hopkins 128 Appendix D.--A letter of Jones to John Wendell, Esqr., Portsmouth, N. H., dated on board the Ranger, Nantes, 11th Decr., 1777 130 Appendix E.--Extract from Nathaniel Fanning's Narrative, describing the entertainment given by Jones about the 10th day of December, 1780 132 Appendix F.--A relation of the voyage of the Ariel to the United States, and her encounter with a ship called Triumph 134 Appendix G.--The storm which wrecked the Ariel. An account given by Fanning in his Narrative 135 Appendix H.--Fanning's account of the taking possession of the Alliance by Landais 137 ILLUSTRATIONS Portrait of Jones _Frontispiece_ Facsimile--first page log Serapis xxxvi " letter of Groube xxxvii " first page muster-roll Bon Homme Richard xxxix Picture--Engagement of Bon Homme Richard and Serapis xlv FOREWORD The executive committee of the Naval History Society having decided to publish for its initial volume the logs of the three ships commanded by John Paul Jones during the years 1779 and 1780, the owner has consented to edit this publication, with a description of the book itself, together with its history, so far as it can be ascertained, believing that it will add something of interest to the voluminous records and the literature relating to the life and services of the distinguished hero of our Revolutionary navy. Besides these logs of the _Serapis_, _Alliance_, and _Ariel_, there are, in the Library of the Navy Department, copies of the log of the _Ranger_, beginning November 26, 1777, and ending May 18, 1778; also of the log of the _Bon Homme Richard_, beginning at L'Orient May 18, 1779, and ending September 24, 1779. The original log-books, as shown by notes and a copy of a letter accompanying and attached to them, are stated to have been purchased by Captain Boyd, of Greenock, from a person of the name of Harding, a baker, in New York, in 1824; and to have been presented to Lady Isabella Helen Douglas, daughter of the fifth Earl of Selkirk, by William John, ninth Lord Napier, on March 17, 1830; they are now supposed to rest among the manuscripts of the Selkirk family. Had the editor known of the existence of this log of the _Bon Homme Richard_, covering the period of her commissioning and cruise prior to the engagement with the _Serapis_, he would have deemed it proper to have included it in this publication. The information came to him too late to have it fully transcribed and prepared for the printer. A few excerpts from it are placed in the Appendix.[1] [Footnote 1: See Appendix A.] The log-book now published is one of the few relics known to exist of the engagement between the _Bon Homme Richard_ and the _Serapis_, as most of the records and official papers of both ships were lost when the _Bon Homme Richard_ sank, or following the confusion on the _Serapis_ after her capture. The book is fourteen inches tall, nine and one quarter inches wide, bound in old vellum, stained, warped, worn with age and hard usage on land and sea. The paper is rough, greenish in color, the hand-made linen paper of the period, with a watermark showing it to be of English manufacture. Upon the exterior of both covers are numerous scribblings: "R. D. June 2d, 1779"--"R. D. June 26, 1779"--"Richard Dales book"--"September the 3d--1780--This book belongs to Mr. Henry Lunt, Lieutenant of the Ship of War, the (_Ariel_)." Richard Dale's name is also found in several places on the pages of the book. It was first used to enter the names of the officers and crew of the _Bon Homme Richard_, giving their rank, rating, and the dates and places of their enlistment.[2] It evidently constituted the muster-roll of that ship when Robert Robinson was the first lieutenant, and, after the dismissal of that officer by sentence of court martial for "negligence of duty," it passed into the keeping of Richard Dale, who succeeded Robinson as first lieutenant, he entering therein, on the pages immediately following the muster-roll: "A List of The Men Names that has Desarted from _The Bone Homme Richard_, Lorient July, 19th. 1779"[3] [Footnote 2: See p. 3.] [Footnote 3: See p. 18.] When the _Richard_ sank off Flamborough Head, the muster-roll was saved and taken on board the _Serapis_, as constituting the official list of those entitled to prize money--then as now the great incentive to naval enlistment and activity. As may well be imagined, a blank-book suitable for a log was not available at that moment of supreme confusion, so that the muster-roll book of the _Richard_, with only a few of its pages in use, was seized upon and used to enter the daily transactions on board the _Serapis_, from the time of her capture until, as a result of the political situation between Holland and England, she was turned over to the French, and, under the command of Captain Cottineau, hoisted the French colors in the Texel Roads. The book was reversed, and the log of the _Serapis_ begun at the other end, preceded by a brief memorandum--"Some Remarkable Occurrences that happened on the 23d day of September, 1779,"--which briefly records the capture of the _Serapis_. No other or more circumstantial account of the fight existed in the book when it came into the possession of its later owners, but a close examination showed that, besides minor mutilations, two leaves, immediately preceding that containing the statement of "Some Remarkable Occurrences," had, at some time, been torn out. In order to incorporate into the book a clearer and more circumstantial account of the fight, a former owner caused to be copied on several blank leaves the narrative found amongst the Peter Force Collection of Manuscripts, "John Paul Jones Papers," Volume VI, number 29. The authorship and penmanship of this document have been ascribed by various biographers of Jones to Richard Dale.[4] [Footnote 4: Memoirs of Rear-Admiral Paul Jones, Edinburgh, 1830; Professor Marion, John Paul Jones' Last Cruise and Final Resting Place, Washington, 1906.] The present owner's attention was specially called to it by seeing a small photographic reproduction, published in a book by Professor Marion entitled, "John Paul Jones' Last Cruise and Final Resting Place," Washington, 1906. The author describes this valuable and historical document as a "manuscript written on two pages of rough, greenish paper, evidently torn out of a log book," and attributes it to Richard Dale, the first lieutenant of the _Bon Homme Richard_. The compiler of the "John Paul Jones Manuscripts" in the Library of Congress attributes it possibly to Jones' secretary.[5] The author of the "Memoirs of Rear-Admiral Paul Jones," published in Edinburgh and London, 1830, Volume I, page 192, states "that the fact of Landais' firing into the _Bon Homme Richard_ is also confirmed by the log-book, which was preserved when the ship sunk, and by a very interesting and seaman-like narrative of the engagement, drawn up by Mr. Dale." He adds in a footnote in reference to the log-book: "This battered volume, after many adventures by land and water, is now (1830) in the possession of Mr. Richard Napier, Advocate." [Footnote 5: Calendar of John Paul Jones Manuscripts, pp. 104, 105.] As this author bases his book upon documents then in the possession of Mrs. Jeanette Taylor, the sister of Paul Jones, which she came into possession of when he died in Paris, the "battered volume" referred to must have been amongst Jones' papers, and is undoubtedly the same log-book now under review. As will be shown later, it was surely in the possession of Richard Dale as late as 1782, and at some time after the war he probably restored it to Jones, who certainly had a good claim to it, as the muster-roll of the _Bon Homme Richard_, contained in it, was necessary in the prosecution of his prize-money claims in France. However this may be, the present owner procured a photograph of the narrative of the engagement, of the exact dimensions of the sheets upon which it was written, and on comparison of these sheets with the leaves of the log-book it was found that in dimensions, in the color and quality of the paper, even in the indenture of the torn edges, there could be no possible doubt that the document was torn from this log-book, and found its way into the Peter Force Collection, and thence to the possession of the Congressional Library. The facsimile is now where the original was, and the narrative is included in this publication of the _Serapis'_ log.[6] Still there was doubt as to its authorship. A comparison of the handwriting with that of Richard Dale, to whom it was attributed, showed conclusively that he was not the writer. Amongst the various scribblings upon the covers of the log-book is found: September the 3d, 1780. This book belongs to Mr. Henry Lunt, Lieutenant of the Ship of War, the (Ariel) a memorandum undoubtedly written by Lunt himself, who was, on the date named, the second lieutenant of the _Ariel_, commanded by Jones, Dale being her first lieutenant.[7] [Footnote 6: See p. 22 of log of _Serapis_.] [Footnote 7: See List of Officers of _Ariel_, p. 20.] Comparisons of letters of Henry Lunt, also in the Peter Force Collection, with the narrative establish beyond any doubt that it is the penmanship of Lieutenant Henry Lunt. Mr. Gaillard Hunt, chief of the Manuscripts Division of the Library of Congress, in a letter to the editor, in reply to his suggestion that Lunt may have been the writer, states as follows: That the two pages of the _Serapis_ log are in the hand of Lieutenant Henry Lunt. They have been compared with a letter of Lunt to Jones, October 7, 1779, and there can be no question of the identity of the hand. A few words as to Lieutenant Henry Lunt. As is well known, he was not on board the _Bon Homme Richard_ during the engagement, having been sent, with fifteen of the crew, to take possession of a brigantine which had been chased inshore, and, although recalled by signal, he did not return until after the action. His conduct in this respect has been properly criticized. He states himself: Having, on the 23d of September, 1779, been ordered in a pilot boat with a party of men after a brig, but some time after I set out from alongside, a signal was made for me to return back to the _Bon homme Richard_, she being then in chase of two British ships-of-war, the _Serapis_ and _Countess of Scarborough_, and before I could get on board the _Bon homme Richard_ she commenced the engagement with the _Serapis_. It being night, I thought it not prudent to go alongside in time of action.... This is signed, "On board the _Serapis_, at the Texel, 25th of October, 1779. Henry Lunt." Jones indorses this as follows: This certificate of Lieut. Lunt, who was a mere spectator, is of great weight and importance, it being only in the power of this gentleman to give a true account of the respective positions and manoeuvres of the ships engaged. J. P. JONES.[8] [Footnote 8: Sherburne's Life of Jones, New York, 1851, p. 164.] The question naturally arises, Who dictated the narrative of the fight which Lunt wrote in the _Serapis'_ log? It is an authentic and truthful narration of the principal occurrences, and corresponds with Jones' own accounts of the battle. It is written in the first person, and must have been written by some one who was on board the _Bon Homme Richard_, and copied by Lunt into the _Serapis'_ log at some time subsequent to the engagement, in order to have a circumstantial account recorded in the log. Lunt's statement that the log-book belonged to him on September 3, 1780, when second lieutenant of the _Ariel_, nearly a year after the fight, would lead us to suppose that, as he was surrounded by the officers who were on the _Bon Homme Richard_, he simply copied a description dictated by one of them, probably by Jones himself, as the latter's well-known proclivity for self-adulation would naturally show itself in a desire to have his personal efforts spread upon the official record. It is further worthy of note that almost the only tributes to the officers of the _Bon Homme Richard_, or recognition of their services, are to be found in Jones' charges and proofs against Landais, where his object was to give force to their testimony.[9] His apparent unwillingness to commend others, or award to each of his officers a just meed of praise, has been noted by some of his biographers as his great fault. [Footnote 9: Sherburne's Life of Jones, New York, 1851, pp. 156-171.] It is a matter of interest to a collector to be able to identify the author or writer of this narrative of the engagement, and to place it, after a long separation, where it originally was written. The first regular entry in the _Serapis'_ log is on the 26th of September, when, dismasted, crowded with prisoners, and encumbered with wounded, her people, assisted by men from the other ships of the squadron, were employed in erecting jury masts and repairing the damages sustained in the action. The wind was for several days light, from the southwest, and the sea fairly smooth, the speed recorded being from two to four knots. Jones decided to make the port of Dunkirk, but his colleagues overruled him, and upon making the land, owing to bad weather and contrary winds, the squadron, after being tossed to and fro by contrary winds for seven days, anchored in the Texel Roads on the 3d of October. That the ship should have been safely taken to a harbor under such circumstances is not the least of Jones' exploits as a seaman; while the failure of the English cruisers to intercept and recapture her brought much obloquy upon the British admiralty. Safely anchored in the Texel, Sir Joseph Yorke, the British ambassador at The Hague, who persistently referred to Jones as "that pirate, Paul Jones: a rebel subject and criminal of State," immediately demanded the surrender of the prizes and the release of the prisoners.[10] The demand was refused by the High Commissioners, and after much correspondence Jones obtained permission, under certain restrictions, to land his prisoners and wounded, and to mount guard over them on an island in the Texel. Jones may fairly be said to have added to his fame by being mainly instrumental in bringing about an open rupture between England and Holland by the stand taken by him during this trying period. [Footnote 10: Sherburne's Life of Jones, New York, 1851, p. 129.] As will be seen by the entries in the log, the crew, with assistance from the other ships, were for many days busily employed in cleaning up her decks and in repairing and refitting the ship. She was in a dreadful condition of filth and disorder. Jones desired to refit her, and again to cruise in English waters, as she was a fine, stanch ship, recently built, and would have been a valuable substitute for the lost _Richard_. Jones states that she was the best ship he ever saw of her kind. Complications between the Dutch and English governments, however, became acute. Jones was ordered to sail from the Texel, then blockaded by an English fleet, and the Dutch Admiral was ordered to use forcible measures, if found necessary, to compel him to do so. With Dr. Franklin's approval it was decided to turn over to the French the prizes, and all the ships except the _Alliance_, which, having been built in America, was accepted as a properly commissioned Continental ship-of-war. In pursuance of this decision Jones turned over to Captain Cottineau the command of the _Serapis_, who hoisted the French flag over her on November 21, 1779. Landais was deposed from the command of the _Alliance_, to which ship Jones transferred his flag, having first stripped the _Serapis_ of everything movable and useful and sent the same on board the _Alliance_.[11] [Footnote 11: See log of _Serapis_ for November 21, 1779.] The log-book now continues with "A Journall Kept on Board the American Continental Frigate of War, _Alliance_, of 36 guns, under the Command of the Honble. John Paul Jones, Commencing in the Road of Texel in Holland." Commencing on the 22d of November, the log states the daily occurrences until June 12, 1780. According to Jones' account the ship was in a deplorable condition, which he attributed to the incapacity of Landais, whom he had supplanted, and with whom he was on bad terms, having charged him with being responsible, in part, for the collision with the _Richard_ on her first cruise; with cowardice during the action with the _Serapis_; with intentionally firing upon the _Richard_; with disobedience of orders, disrespect, and insolence. Jones states that the _Alliance_ had not a good cable or sail; the officers and men were intemperate and idle; filth, insubordination, and epidemic diseases prevailed among the crew; she was badly supplied with arms; and her powder was of bad quality. Some of these deficiences Jones supplied from the _Serapis_. The remaining officers and crew of the _Richard_ were transferred to the _Alliance_, except the French volunteers; and the French volunteers and marines on the _Alliance_ were sent to the _Serapis_, as it had been arranged that no French subject was to remain on the _Alliance_. Until the 27th of December the ship's company and mechanics from shore were busily employed in making necessary repairs, refitting the rigging, making new yards, and altering the old ones. Every effort was apparently made to get the ship ready for sea. Gales of wind and rotten cables placed her often in peril. Her bottom being foul, the ship was careened and the bottom scrubbed. The English kept a squadron cruising off the port, but Jones determined to get to sea as soon as the weather would permit. He thought he had recovered the trim of the ship which had been lost under Landais. He states that the ship was well manned, and would not be given away; that the Holland squadron had been drawn up ready for battle for more than a month to drive him out if he should attempt to remain after the wind became fair, while the English fleet was almost constantly in sight of the harbor. He was requested by the Dutch Admiral to declare whether the _Alliance_ was a French or an American vessel, and if French to display the French flag, and to omit no occasion of departing. To this Jones replied, declining to display French colors, and saying that he would get to sea whenever a pilot would take the ship out of the harbor. On the 27th of December, the wind serving, he set sail from the Texel, fell foul of a Dutch merchant ship, lost the best bower-anchor and cable, and had other mishaps, owing to the ignorance or drunkenness of the old pilot. The _Alliance_ passed along the Flemish banks, got to windward of the enemy's fleet in the North Sea, and passed through the Strait of Dover in full view of the enemy's fleet in the Downs. He then ran the _Alliance_ past the Isle of Wight, in view of the enemy's fleet at Spithead, got safe through the Channel, and cruised about the Bay of Biscay and Cape Finisterre, overhauling many neutral ships and making a few unimportant prizes. On the 17th of January he came to anchor in the harbor of Corunna, Spain. Here he remained until the 28th of January. He received and entertained visitors; again careened the ship and scrubbed her bottom; made changes in her spars; obtained a new anchor; and gave his men liberty. The men were complaining that their wages and prize money had not been paid, and were in a mutinous condition. On the 19th of January they all refused doing duty, but Jones succeeded in satisfying them, and they returned to duty the following day.[12] [Footnote 12: See log of _Alliance_ for January 19, 1780.] On the 28th of January, after entertaining the governor, the _Alliance_ again put to sea, and cruised in the neighboring waters, overhauling several ships, capturing a few unimportant prizes. She met the American letter-of-marque ship _Livingston_, and in company with her anchored within the Isle of Groix on the 11th of February, and on the 19th moved up to the harbor of L'Orient, and moored the _Alliance_ to the King's Moorings. Jones' first object now appears to have been to repair and refit the ship and make extensive alterations, the extent and cost of which were the subject of remonstrance on the part of Benjamin Franklin, who positively forbids his sheathing the ship's bottom with copper, buying new canvas and cordage, thus adding to the extraordinary expenses already incurred in Holland, especially as Jones seemed to impute the damages the _Alliance_ had sustained more to Landais' negligence than to accidents of the cruise; Franklin concludes his admonitions with an appeal to Jones--"For God's sake be sparing unless you mean to make me a bankrupt, or have your drafts dishonoured for want of money in my hands to pay them."[13] [Footnote 13: Richard C. Sands, Life and Correspondence of John Paul Jones, New York, 1830, p. 248.] Notwithstanding this appeal for economy, from the 19th of February to the 12th of June the _Alliance_ remained at anchor at L'Orient, and the repairs, renewals, and refitting were prosecuted with energy by the crew of the ship, assisted by carpenters and mechanics from shore. The log relates the work done day by day with some precision. The essential repairs were completed in April, and Jones states that, when finished, judges allowed that everything about the frigate was perfect, and that he knew not what was the amount of disbursements. In his journal for the King he says: "She was thought one of the completest frigates in France." Meantime, it was Mr. Franklin's intention to send the _Alliance_ back to America with large supplies of arms and clothing. Mr. Arthur Lee, one of our commissioners, also desired to return in her. Landais was annoying Franklin with importunities to such an extent that the latter wrote Jones that he was determined to have nothing further to do with him. On the 4th of March Franklin wrote the President of Congress that Jones would carry the _Alliance_ home, and that Landais had not applied to be replaced in her, but on the 17th of March he asked Franklin to be replaced in command of the _Alliance_. To this request Franklin replied that he considered him so imprudent, so litigious and quarrelsome a man, that if he had twenty ships-of-war in his disposition, he would not give him command of one of them. Franklin, on the 18th of March, states that he knew of nothing to prevent Jones from proceeding immediately to such part of North America as he could reach in safety. The prize-money question was in abeyance; Franklin in his letters to Jones referred to it, and stated that the ships-of-war he had taken were to be valued, the King intending to purchase them, but that the muster-roll of the _Bon Homme Richard_ was wanting in order to regulate the proportions to each ship. At the same time Franklin authorized Jones to draw on him for 24,000 livres in advance to the people of the _Bon Homme Richard_, and stated that M. LeRay de Chaumont had authorized his correspondent in L'Orient to advance 100,000 livres for the Americans of the _Alliance_ and _Bon Homme Richard_, on account. This prize-money question, as shown by the voluminous correspondence of the time, was a troublesome matter, the cause of dissension, controversy, and insubordination amounting to mutiny in the ship's company. The subject is fully treated in the various biographies of Jones, and it is unnecessary to do more than allude to it here. It was, however, the cause which induced Jones to go frequently to Paris, ostensibly to hasten proceedings for the adjustment of the claims for prize money. In his absence on shore at L'Orient Captain Landais, acting under the advice of Arthur Lee and Commodore Gillon, of the South Carolina navy, took possession of the _Alliance_ on the 12th of June. The log entry on that day is the last of the _Alliance's_ journal. It forms a terse but accurate account of this extraordinary transaction. A more detailed account, by a participant in this event, will be found in the Appendix.[14] [Footnote 14: Richard C. Sands, Life and Correspondence of John Paul Jones, New York, 1830, pp. 265-267. See Appendix H for Nathaniel Fanning's narrative of this transaction. Landais and his first lieutenant, Degge, were both tried by a court martial held on the _Alliance_, November, 1780, Captain John Barry, president; both were sentenced "to be broke, cashiered, and rendered incapable of serving in the American navy thereafter." The Board of Admiralty reported to Congress, March 28, 1781, that the plans of Jones for bringing clothing and stores to America were overset by Landais' misconduct, and Jones was exonerated from all charges for the delay. Naval Records of the Revolution, 1775-1788, Washington, 1906, pp. 170, 171, 173.] It appears from the correspondence of Mr. Franklin that Landais had been furnished with money to enable him to return to America for trial upon the charges preferred by Jones, and Franklin had, in May, expressed his astonishment that he continued to remain at L'Orient. To this Landais, on the 29th of May, coolly replied that he had been waiting for orders to retake command of the _Alliance_! Franklin replied to this, "I charge you not to meddle with the command, or create any disturbance on board her, as you will answer the contrary at your peril." Arthur Lee, as well as Commodore Gillon, had previously quarreled with Jones, and detested him. Lee, in a written opinion discussing constitutional questions as to the authority of Congress, and that of Mr. Franklin, advised Landais that he might lawfully treat our minister's orders with contempt. As Jones was constantly absent from his ship, spending much time in Paris, where he was the recipient of marked attentions, it was not difficult for Landais to work upon the mutinous spirit of the crew by charging Jones with neglect of their interests regarding prize money due them, to such effect that they addressed a letter to Franklin, signed by one hundred and fifteen of the crew, declaring that they would not raise the anchor, nor depart from L'Orient, until their wages and the utmost farthing of their prize money had been paid them, and until _their legal captain, P. Landais, was restored to them_. This mutinous document was undoubtedly instigated by Landais; it bore unmistakable evidence of being penned, and was forwarded to Franklin, by Landais himself. On the morning of the 12th of June Jones, at L'Orient, assembled his crew, before going on shore, and asked them if they could say a word to his disadvantage. They answered that they could not, and, according to Jones' account, showed every appearance of contentment and subordination. Jones then went on shore, and Landais, taking advantage of his absence, seized the command during the afternoon of that day. Jones heard of the transaction from Dale, who informed him that he and some others had just been turned ashore. Jones immediately despatched by express to Franklin a statement of the occurrence. Upon its receipt Franklin procured an order from Versailles for the arrest and imprisonment of Landais, as a Frenchman and subject to French laws. Lee, under whose legal advice Landais had acted, wrote a long letter to Jones, in which he claimed that it was clear that Landais commanded the _Alliance_ under the full and express order of Congress, and no other authority existed which could dismiss him from the command. Some attempt was made by the commandant of the port to arrest Landais and prevent the departure of the _Alliance_. Jones declined to employ means to prevent her departure, interposing, he says, "to prevent bloodshed between the subjects of allied powers." The _Alliance_ was hurried out of port with a mutinous crew--many of them in irons--taking Arthur Lee and a number of civilians as passengers. On the voyage homeward the officers and crew became dissatisfied with Landais' conduct, and compelled him to relinquish the command. Mr. Arthur Lee was particularly incensed against him, and principally upon his testimony, on his trial by court martial, Landais was dismissed from the service on the score that he was insane. The conduct of Jones in thus abandoning his command has been commented upon at length by his biographers, and variously accounted for, the consensus of opinion being that, had he really wished to recover the command, he could have gone on board the _Alliance_ with his officers as soon as he heard that Landais had taken possession of her, and would have met with no opposition from Landais, or, if he had ventured upon personal violence, Jones, being in the right, would not have been blamable for the consequences. The conduct of Jones during this extraordinary transaction seems inconsistent with his general character as a bold and determined fighter, and does not add to his reputation. Following the entry in the _Alliance's_ journal, recording the taking possession of her by Landais, the log continues with "An account of occurrences in L'Orient, respecting the _Bon Homme Richards_ Officers & Crew" during the three days they were on shore waiting for orders. On the 16th of June they were ordered to, and removed on board the _Ariel_ frigate, that ship having been loaned by the French to assist in transporting to America clothing and munitions of war, for which room could not be found on the _Alliance_ and of which our army was sorely in need. The _Ariel_ was a small frigate, formerly captured from the English by the squadron under d'Estaing. The log-book now contains A Journall Kept on Board the American Continental Ship of War, _Ariel_, of 26--Nine Pounders, Commanded by the Honble. John Paul Jones Esqr. commencing in the Port of L'Orient June the 16th: 1780. Although under the date of the 16th, in the account of the occurrences on shore, is written "Commencement of the _Ariels_ Journall," the first entry following the complete heading is on June 18th. The remarks on the following days are full of interest. The ship could hardly have been more than a hulk, in no way prepared for sea, for until the 8th of October--nearly three months--they show that she was remasted, sparred, altered, repaired, and refitted with sails and new rigging, besides receiving on board quantities of stores, clothing, and munitions of war, destined for America, that the _Alliance_ had been unable to take. The movements of the _Alliance_ under Landais are also recorded prior to her departure. On the 2d of September a grand entertainment was given by Jones, during which he endeavored to represent the battle with the _Serapis_ to a large and distinguished company. An amusing description of another entertainment, about December 10th, appears in Fanning's narrative,[15] who figures in the log entry on the 2d of September as having been kicked by Jones and ordered below. [Footnote 15: See Appendix E for Fanning's account of Jones' entertainment. Although he states it to have occurred about December 10th, it probably is that recorded September 2d in the _Ariel's_ log.] Although apparently ready for sea early in September, the ship was moved only to the Roads of Groix, where she lay until the 8th of October, apparently detained by contrary winds or foul weather. On that day she got to sea, and on the very night of her departure encountered a heavy gale which increased to a hurricane the following day, in which the ship was nearly lost. The remarks of the 9th and 10th of October describe the distress of the ship, with some particularity for a formal log entry, but a more detailed account of this great storm is found in a report signed by the officers of the _Ariel_ which Jones procured, possibly to confirm his own report of the gale and its effects, which he gives in his journal for the King. He sailed from the Roads of Groix with such a quantity of arms and powder as filled the ship even between decks; the wind was fair and weather pleasant, but the next night the _Ariel_ was driven by the violent tempest close to the rocks of Penmarque, a terrible ledge between L'Orient and Brest. The ship could show no sail, but was almost buried under water, not having room to run before the wind, and having several feet of water in the hold. Finding the depth of water diminishing fast, Jones in the last extremity cast anchor, but could not bring the ship's head to the wind. Sometimes the lower yard-arms touched the water, and Jones had no remedy left but to cut away the foremast. This had the desired effect, and the ship immediately came head to the wind. The mainmast had got out of the step, and now reeled about like a drunken man. Foreseeing the danger of its either breaking off below the gun-deck or going through the ship's bottom, Jones ordered it to be cut away, but, before this could be done, the chain plates gave way, and the mainmast breaking off by the gun-deck carried with it the mizzenmast, and the mizzenmast carried away the quarter-gallery; two additional cables were spliced and veered out. In that situation the _Ariel_ rode in the open ocean to windward of perhaps the most dangerous ledge of rocks in the world, for two days and two nights, in a tempest that covered the shore with wrecks and dead bodies, and that drove ships ashore from their anchors, even in the port of L'Orient.[16] [Footnote 16: See Appendix G for Fanning's account of the storm which wrecked the _Ariel_.] This terrible gale was felt nearly all over Europe. In the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for November, 1780, it is stated that "this dreadful hurricane was one of those tremendous tempests of which two or three occur in an age." In England it occurred on the night of Sunday, October 8th, and did immense damage by sea and land. It is a singular coincidence that, while Jones was experiencing this dreadful hurricane on the French coast, his opponent of a twelvemonth before equally felt its effects on the English coast. In a letter to the Admiralty, dated on board the _Alarm_, at Plymouth, October 10, 1780, Sir Richard Pearson states as follows: I arrived here on the evening of the 8th, it blowing very hard at S. E.; the next morning the wind shifted suddenly to W. N. W. and blew a gale all yesterday from that to W. S. W. and S. W. and continued until one or two o'clock this morning; in which I had the misfortune to part my two Bowers and Sheet Cable, and was reduced to my spare anchor, which I had providentially got two cables on, which brought me up at eleven o'clock last night, when I found myself under the necessity of cutting away all my masts for the preservation of his Majesty's ship and the lives of my people. I am now in the same distressing situation as I was last night.[17] [Footnote 17: This letter is taken from the papers deposited in the British Museum, known as the Filkin Manuscripts, in ten note-books. They contain an extensive collection of memoranda--extracts from magazines, newspapers, contemporaneous publications, and Admiralty documents--collected by Mr. Filkin with the intention of writing another Life of Paul Jones. Mr. Filkin dying, his note-books were presented to the British Museum. Full copies of them are in the editor's collection.] The storm continuing until the morning of the 10th, notwithstanding the heavy sea Jones succeeded on that and the following day in getting up jury, fore, and mizzen masts, and on the 11th, at noon, cut the cable, got under way, and anchored the _Ariel_ on the 13th of October in the harbor of L'Orient. The journal of the _Ariel_ ends on the 14th of October. She remained at L'Orient until the 18th of December, when she again sailed, and arrived safely in the United States, having encountered an enemy's ship, supposed by Jones to be named the _Triumph_, which, after a short resistance, struck her colors, and a few minutes afterward (according to Jones) her captain had the baseness to fill his sails and run away. This voyage in the _Ariel_ was the last service at sea performed by John Paul Jones under the American flag. He arrived in Philadelphia on February 18, 1781, having been absent from the United States three years, three months, and eighteen days. Following the last entry of the _Ariel's_ log, several leaves have been torn out. The book was reversed again, and immediately following "A List of The Men Names that has Desarted from The _Bone Homme Richard_, Lorient July, 19th. 1779" we find, in the identical handwriting of the logs of the _Serapis_, _Alliance_, and _Ariel_, "A List of Officers, & Men, belonging to the American Continental Ship of War, _Ariel_, Commanded, by the Honble, John Paul Jones." A comparison of this list with the muster-roll of the _Bon Homme Richard_ shows that most of the officers and many of the crew of the former still followed the fortunes of Jones. Upon several pages are also inscribed the following receipts:[18] [Footnote 18: From these receipts it would appear that the _Queen of France_ was formerly the _Count d'Artois_. The James Dick who signs one of the receipts had served on the _Lexington_ as midshipman, had been a prisoner of war in Mill Prison, was exchanged, and served on the _Alliance_ with Dale. See Calendar of Jones Manuscripts, p. 182. There were seven privateers or letters-of-marque named _Queen of France_, of which the bonds are listed in the papers of the Continental Congress in the Congressional Library.] Recd. from Capt. Richard Deal the sum of Twenty one pounds seventeen and sixpence for thirty five days work on Board the Ship _Count De Artois_. July 27. 1782. Theobald Jennings and Reserved, August the 11--1782 of Mr. Richard Dale twenty Eight pounds as an Advance to gow in the Ship _Queen of France_---- £28.00.00. James Dick Another log is also contained in the book. It immediately follows the "List of the Officers and Crew of the _Ariel_," and is headed, "A Journal Kept on Board the Ship _Queen of France_, from Cape Henlopen towards Lorient." Beginning on August 20, 1782, it records the courses, distances run, the latitudes and longitudes of each day, up to and including September 10th, when the ship was in latitude 47° 19' N. and longitude 19° 15' W. There are no entries in the column under "Remarks." Importance is attached to this log because it shows conclusively that the book was in the possession of Dale until the end of the cruise of the _Queen of France_, in February, 1783, about the time of the end of the Revolution. From Cooper's "Life of Richard Dale" we learn that after his return to the United States in the _Ariel_ Jones was anxious to take him with him to the ship _America_, to which Jones had been appointed, but Dale declined the service and was employed on the _Trumbull_, which was captured by an English fleet, and for the fourth time Dale was made prisoner, but was exchanged in November, 1781. No new service in the regular navy offering, Dale obtained a furlough and joined a large letter-of-marque called the _Queen of France_, that carried twelve guns, as her first officer. Soon after he was appointed to the command of her and, in company with several other letters-of-marque, sailed for France, making many captures by the way. Dale's ship, however, parted from the fleet, and, falling in with an English privateer of fourteen guns, a severe engagement followed, in which both parties were much cut up, and they parted by mutual consent.[19] [Footnote 19: See Life of Richard Dale, by J. Fenimore Cooper, Philadelphia, 1846, Vol. II, p. 257.] Upon the termination of hostilities, in common with most of the officers of the navy, Dale was "disbanded," and engaged in the East India trade until 1792, when he was restored to the navy as captain in the reorganized marine. It was probably during this period that our log-book passed into the possession of Jones, who was urging his claims for rank and prize money before Congress.[20] Failing to obtain what he termed "proper consideration," after a cruise with the French fleet Jones was commissioned as agent to look after the prizes made on his cruises in European waters and sailed for France November 10, 1783, in the _Washington_, late _General Monk_, the ship captured by Barney in the _Hyder-Ally_ and then commanded by Barney. Jones left in the care of a Mr. Hyslop of New York a portion of his papers, being the same which later turned up in the keeping of the baker in New York, and upon which Sherburne based his life of Jones, and from him the logs of the _Ranger_ and _Bon Homme Richard_ appear to have been purchased in 1824 by Captain Boyd, before alluded to. But Jones took with him those papers which he deemed most important to the discharge of his mission to France, not the least of which was the book containing the muster-roll of the _Bon Homme Richard_, which probably was the only authentic and official list then in existence, and indispensable to the proceedings in the French prize courts. [Footnote 20: For an account of Jones' efforts before Congress to obtain higher rank on the navy list, see letter from Captain James Nicholson to Captain John Barry, Appendix B.] The papers and property of Jones, upon his death in Paris in 1792, passed to his sister Mrs. Taylor, and upon them as a base followed the Edinburgh "Life of Jones," also that by Sands--by all conceded to be the best of the numerous biographies of Jones--while Sherburne's book, published in 1825, is properly criticized as a chaotic compilation, creating inextricable confusion in the mind of a reader. There has always been some difficulty in finding a correct muster-roll of the _Bon Homme Richard_.[21] The list published by Sherburne he states is made from "official sources," and is shown by the correspondence on the subject to have been made from "a certified copy of a copy." This is undoubtedly the document now in the Congressional Library, being a copy, written by a Frenchman, of the muster-roll filed by Jones in the French prize courts and certified to by him as correct. As this list corresponds with great exactness to the muster-roll of the officers and crew of the _Bon Homme Richard_, making due allowances for desertions, men sent away in prizes, and possibly new enlistments, it seems evident that the original basis of the lists was that contained in the log-book. The names of the French volunteers and marines were not entered in the muster-roll, but were probably ascertained by Jones in France, and added to the copy filed by him. [Footnote 21: See correspondence on the subject of the muster-roll and prize money, Sherburne's Life of Jones, New York, 1851, pp. 266, 364, 365, 366.] The editor has alluded to the fact that the logs of the _Serapis_, _Alliance_, and _Ariel_, as well as the list of the officers and crew of the _Ariel_, are all written by the same hand. The penmanship is remarkably good, the orthography correct, showing the writer to have had some pretensions to scholarship and clerical ability, much more than that shown by either Dale or Lunt. It had been conjectured that the writer was Midshipman Nathaniel Fanning, who served under an appointment by Jones on the _Richard_, _Serapis_, _Alliance_, and _Ariel_. He it was who, stationed in the maintop, threw, or caused to be thrown, the bomb which, exploding on the gun-deck of the _Serapis_, created such havoc as to have been largely instrumental in bringing the action to a close. Fanning has left a narrative of his life, in which he claims to have been Jones' private secretary, and to have had close and intimate relations with him. He also refers to the journal kept by him, and the dates of the occurrences, as stated at length in his narrative, correspond with some accuracy with the same events as recorded in the several logs.[22] The journal of the _Ariel_ ceases when Fanning left the _Ariel_, probably because of the slight misunderstanding recorded in the _Ariel's_ log on the 2d of September, an occurrence which sufficiently accounts for Fanning's severe criticisms of Jones, given in his narrative, with frequent allusions to his ungovernable temper. [Footnote 22: Narrative of the Adventures of an American Navy Officer who served during part of the American Revolution under the Command of Com. John Paul Jones, New York, Printed for the author, 1806.] Another reason for the conjecture arose from the fact that the name of Nathaniel Fanning, as well as that of Beaumont Groube, both in the muster-roll of the _Richard_ and the _Ariel_, are in the unmistakable handwriting of the penman of the logs. As opposed to the conjecture, however, the name of Nathaniel Fanning is spelled Fenning in the _Richard's_ list, while in that of the _Ariel_ it is correctly spelled. This caused the editor to make further investigations, as it was apparent that if Fanning was not, possibly Midshipman Groube was, the writer of the logs, particularly as he had been considered competent to act as judge-advocate of a number of courts martial, and, inferentially, was a better scholar than other officers under Jones' command. Availing himself of the cordial assistance of Mr. Putnam, the Librarian of Congress, and Mr. Hunt, chief of the Manuscripts Division, the editor procured a facsimile of a long letter written by Beaumont Groube to Captain Bell, commanding the privateer _Luzerne_, then at L'Orient, dated May 3, 1780, when both Groube and Fanning were attached to the _Alliance_, asking his good offices in accommodating a quarrel with Lieutenant Degge, one of the officers then on the _Alliance_. Upon comparison of the penmanship of this letter with that of the logs, it was established, beyond any possible doubt, that Midshipman Groube was the scribe of all three logs, the handwriting being identical.[23] [Footnote 23: For facsimiles of a page in the _Serapis'_ journal, and letter of Midshipman Beaumont Groube, see pp. xxxvi-xxxviii.] There is a certain amount of interest attached to Midshipman Groube, growing out of the fact that there are a great many contemporaneous prints which represent Jones in the act of shooting a Lieutenant Grubb for attempting to haul down the colors of the _Richard_. As there was no Lieutenant Grubb in the ship, Groube has been made, by writers of numerous chap-books, the victim of this act of Jones. These chap-books are mainly fabrications of their authors and engravers, and may properly be called the "dime novels" of the period. Groube probably returned to the United States with Jones in the _Ariel_, although he discontinued keeping the log on the 14th of October, 1780. He seems to have disappeared, as no further trace of him can be found, nor is there any account of his previous life. It is evident, however, that he was a young man of good education, as shown by his handwriting and correct spelling--unusual accomplishments of the sailors of that period--as well as from his selection as judge-advocate of the many courts martial held on the officers and men of the _Richard_[24] when that ship was fitting for sea at L'Orient. [Footnote 24: Calendar of Jones Manuscripts, in Library of Congress, pp. 98, 99.] The editor would call attention to the fact that, although the greater part of Jones' voluminous correspondence is now deposited in the Library of Congress, Mrs. Taylor, or her daughter Jeanette Taylor, parted with many interesting documents, and there are also to be found in the hands of individuals many others which have never been published. Besides the log-books here printed--as well as the log-books of the _Ranger_ and _Bon Homme Richard_ heretofore referred to--Miss Taylor informed Mr. Cooper that she had given Jones' original commission as lieutenant, dated August 8, 1776, to some one in Scotland as an autograph of President Hancock. The original certificate of Hancock, appointing him to the command of the _Providence_, is in the editor's collection, while his commission, dated October 10, 1776, of which Sherburne in his edition of 1851 prints a facsimile, is now in private hands. On the following four pages are reproduced for the purpose of a comparison of the handwriting facsimiles of the first page of the _Serapis'_ log, and opposite it a page from a letter by Beaumont Groube. On the two subsequent pages are the continuation of the letter and a page from the ship's muster-roll. Almost at a glance it can be seen that the two signatures were written by the same hand and that the writing in the log and that in the letter are identical as to penmanship. [Illustration: Facsimiles of the first page.] Miss Taylor also presented to a relative the original certificate of Jones' membership in the Society of the Cincinnati, signed by Washington, dated October 31, 1785, which is now owned by Colonel N. Arnott of Edinburgh, a descendant of the Paul family.[25] The original commission of Jones authorizing him to arrange the difficulties with the Barbary powers is in the remarkable collection of Mr. Grenville Kane, of New York. Eighteen autograph letters from and to Jones are now offered for sale by a London dealer for the modest sum of $5,000; these evidently escaped from the Taylor family. [Footnote 25: See Notes on a Wax Medallion, and Relative Letter, of Paul Jones, by Francis Caird Inglis, F.S.A. Scot., 1906, p. 18.] The editor has deemed it not uninteresting, although not immediately connected with the principal object of this publication, to refer to the dispersion of Jones' letters and public documents, and to print in the Appendix an interesting letter to Commodore Esek Hopkins,[26] also a letter from Captain James Nicholson to Commodore John Barry relating to Jones' efforts before Congress to be placed at the head of the navy, both of which are in the editor's collection of manuscripts. In the Appendix will also be found a copy of a letter of Jones, addressed to John Wendell--which as a composition may be considered as one of the most remarkable of all his epistolary effusions. The original letter is now in the possession of the Wendell family. None of these letters have ever been published.[27] [Footnote 26: See Appendix C.] [Footnote 27: See Appendix D.] In concluding this preamble to the logs, it will be noted that the editor has supplemented the ship's stories by drawing largely upon the accounts of the events, barely touched upon in the remarks to be found in the numerous biographies of John Paul Jones, and upon the papers relating to his career now deposited in the Congressional Library. This has been done because it was possible that, as the biographies are out of print and rather scarce, they might not be readily available to many of the readers. The first authentic "Life of Jones," throwing aside the numerous so-called chap-books, was that of André, published in French in Paris, 1798, translated and republished in "Niles' Register" for the year 1812. Following the discovery of Jones' letters, Sherburne produced his first edition in 1825. The manuscript of this first edition he sent also to John Murray in London, who caused it to be edited by Disraeli, later the Earl of Beaconsfield, and published the book in the same year, 1825.[28] The preface of this book, according to the editor of the "Life of Disraeli," was the earliest appearance of Disraeli as an author. Sherburne was aware of the existence of the papers in the possession of the Taylor family, and endeavored to obtain them; but his request was refused, as they were already in the hands of the author of the Edinburgh "Life of Jones," published in 1830. [Footnote 28: The Life of Paul Jones, from original documents in the possession of John Henry Sherburne esq., Register of the Navy of the United States. London: John Murray, Albemarle Street, MDCCCXXV. Also, The Life of Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of Beaconsfield, by William Flavelle Monypenny, New York, 1910, pp. 60-61.] Then followed the "Life of Jones" by Robert C. Sands, from the original letters and manuscripts in the possession of Miss Jeanette Taylor--New York, 1830. Mackenzie's "Life," in 1845, and Cooper's "Life," in 1846--both based upon Sands and Sherburne--contain but few additional matters of interest. Sherburne's "Life," published in 1825, was so freely criticized that a second edition, corrected and enlarged, was published in 1851. Several other lives of Paul Jones, simply reproductions of the foregoing, with illustrations, and in cheaper popular form, have also appeared, worthy of place only in a bibliography. Later we have the "Life" by Buell, which, although he calls it a history, is simply a pleasing, popular romance. The history of the logs here reproduced may be thought somewhat obscure, being founded upon some conjectures, deductions, and probabilities, as well as absolute facts. The editor purchased the log-book at the sale of the library of Mr. S. L. M. Barlow, of New York, in 1889, it being item No. 2760 in the catalogue prepared by Mr. J. O. Wright. Mr. Wright states that Mr. Barlow acquired the book through Mr. Harrisse or Mr. Stevens, of London, some time previous to 1869. The portrait facing the title-page has been selected from the numerous engraved portraits of Jones as not only the best authentic likeness taken from life, excepting perhaps the bust by Houdon, but the earliest in point of execution, having been drawn by a celebrated artist, Moreau le Jeune, in May, 1780, when Jones was in command of the _Alliance_, at L'Orient. The portrait by Charles W. Peale, now in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, was executed seven years later, and has been reproduced many times. A comparison of the two with the Houdon bust demonstrates at once that the Moreau le Jeune portrait is by far the more faithful likeness, and of a greater personality than Peale's painting, with which we are more familiar. The great number of engraved contemporaneous so-called portraits of Jones attest the interest attached to his career in Europe. Many of them are purely imaginative, and exist in all forms of engraving from the grand folio mezzotint to the absurd caricature, and have formed the special object of pursuit by many collectors of Americana, with the result of extraordinary values for the rare ones, including the one here reproduced. The most remarkable collection of Jones' portraits, and pictures relating to Jones' career, is that of Mr. Grenville Kane, of New York. The picture of the engagement is a rare print, and has been selected instead of the more familiar one taken from the painting by Richard Paton. The original painting by Paton is owned by the heirs of Lord Amherst, whose ancestral estate included Flamborough Head, off which the famous battle was fought. It has recently been offered for sale for the sum of £3000. In concluding this introduction to the logs, it has been the editor's purpose to avoid repeating the incidents of Jones' life related in his numerous biographies or quoting literally from his voluminous correspondence, but he has referred to them only in so far as they seemed to be connected in some measure with the log stories. The letters given in the Appendix have been copied from the originals and have never before been printed, while the extracts from Fanning's narrative are taken from a book of which very few copies are in existence. A reprint of this narrative has been contemplated by the executive committee as one of the future publications of the Society, it being the only known autobiography of a man and officer who served under Jones in European waters. It remains for the editor to express his acknowledgments to Mr. Robert W. Neeser, the secretary of the Society, for his very able assistance in the preparation of this volume for the press, in correcting and revising the proof-sheets, and in verifying the references. To Mr. Herbert Putnam, Librarian of the Congressional Library, and his able assistants Mr. Gaillard Hunt and Mr. J. C. Fitzpatrick, the editor's thanks are due for their interest and assistance, as well as to Mr. Charles W. Stewart, the Librarian of the Navy Department. The absence of Rear-admiral Goodrich, at whose instance the Naval History Society was organized, this publication undertaken, and whose coöperation was expected, has contributed to the delay in the publication, for which the editor begs the indulgence of the members of the Society. [Illustration: _Print Published in London, First of December, 1781_ _By John Harris, Sweetings Alley, Cornhill._ "_To the Merchants trading to Russia, this Print representing the gallant Defence of Capt.n Pearson in his Majesty's Ship Serapis, and the Countess of Scarborough Arm'd Ship Capt.n Piercy, against Paul Jones's Squadron, whereby a valuable Fleet from the Baltic were prevented from falling into the hands of the Enemy, is with the greatest respect Inscribed by their Humble Servant._ _John Harris._"] [Illustration: Ship.] THE LOGS OF THE SERAPIS--ALLIANCE--ARIEL (List of Officers and Men of the Continental Ship, Bon Homme Richard) (July the 26th, 1779) ========================+=====+==================+============== _Place & Time of Entry_ |_No._| _Mens Names_ | _Qualities_ ------------------------+-----+------------------+-------------- | | | | | Robert Robison[1]| Lieutenant | | | Nantes March 4th | | Richad Dale | | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | Henry Lunt | | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Cutting Lunt | Master | | | | | Matthews | Purser | | | | | Lawrence Brooks | Surgeon | | | | | William Smith | Masters Mate | | | | | Samuel Stacey | Ditto | | | Dinan March 16th | | John White | Ditto | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | Joshua Carswell | Ditto | | | Fugere March 19th | | Reuben Chase | Midshipman | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | Benjamin Stubbs | Ditto | | | Havar Degrace April 11th| | Thomas Potter | Ditto | | | L'Orient June 5th | | Beaumont Groube | Ditto | | | Lorient June 15 | | John Meyrant | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 15 | | John Linthweith | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 15 | | William Daniel | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 15 | | Richard Corum | Ditto | | | Nantz | | Nathl. Fenning | | | | Antreum March 19 | | Stepen Lee | Captains Clark | | | Fugere May 21 | | John Peacock | Surgeons Mate | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | John Burbank | Master a Arms | | | Nates February 22th | | John Conner | Gunner | | | Fugere March 19th | | John Robinson | Coxswain | | | Ditto Ditto | | Andrew Lendsey | Boatswain | | | Pimbauf April 5 | | John Gunnison | Carpenter | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Joshua Brewster | Cooper | | | Brest March 2d. | | William Sturges | Armourer | | | Nantes April 5th | | Daniel Russell | Steward | | | Havar Degrace April 1st | | William Clarke | Sailmaker | | | Pimbauf April 5 | | Jacob True | Yoeman powder roome. | | | Fugere March 19th | |John Thomas =Cook=| Cook--- --- | | | | | | Gunners Mate | | | | | | Ditto | | | =Brest March 2= | |=Richard Williams=| =Boatswain Mate= | | | Fugere May 21 | | Richard Williams | Boatswain, Mate | | | Brest March 2 | | Edward Garrett | Ditto | | | | | | Ditto | | | | | | Ditto | | | Nantes March 15th | | Thomas Miller | Carpenter Mate | | | Ditto Ditto 15 | | William Physick | Ditto | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | John Madden | yoeman at Armes | | | | | | Ditto | | | Fugere March 19th | | John Haynes | Boatswain Ditto | | | | | | Gunners Ditto | | | Nanys April 5th | | Icabad Lord | Carpenters yeoman | | | Brest March 2th | | William Roberts | Coopers Ditto | | | Fugere March 19th | | Thomas Davis | Armourers Ditto | | | Haver Degrace April 1th | | Hugh Woulton | Sailmakers Ditto | | | Brest March 2d. | | George Campbell | Cooks--Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto do. | | Joseph Holland | Ditto--Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | John Williams | Quarters Masters | | | Nants April 15th | | James Conner | Ditto | | | Ditto. Ditto do. | | Robert Steel | Ditto | | | Ditto April 5th | | George Tufathan | Ditto | | | Lorient ditto 20th | | Robert Towers | Ditto | | | Haver Degrace ditto 23th| | William Thompson | Ditto | | | Fugere March 19th | | John Woulton | Ditto | | | Brest Ditto 2th | | Robert Stevens | Quarter Gunner | | | Ditto. Ditto 2th | | Arthur Randall | Ditto | | | =Ditto Ditto 2th= | | | | | | Nants ditto .. 15 | | James Whelton | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 15th | | Thomas Mc.Carthy | Ditto | | | Lorient April 20th | | Jonathan Wells | Ditto | | | Haver Degrace April 1th | | Robert Mc.Cormick| Ditto | | | Denant May 23th | | William Barry | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto 23th | | Thomas Cooks | Ditto | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | John Down | Quarter Gunner | | | Lorient July 19the | | Francis Campbell | Ditto | | | Fugere. March 19the | | William Lee | .. Yeoman Forecastle | | | ditto. ditto 19the | | John Robinson | ... Yeoman Main top | | | ditto. ditto 19the | | John Murphy | ditto | | | ditto. ditto 19the | | Thomas Jones | ... Do. Mizen top | | | Nants. ditto 15the | | William Johnston | ditto Fore top | | | Fugere March 19the | | John Brown | ditto--ditto | | | ditto May 21th, | | James Nicholson | ditto after guard | | | Dinan March 16th | | John Balch | ditto--ditto | | | Brest March 2th | | Michael Woolf | Seaman | | | ditto, Ditto 2 | | Thomas Turner | ditto | | | ditto ditto. 2th | | Jacob Andrews | ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 2th | | John Sheas | ditto | | | Denaunt March 16th | | James Waggarell | ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto 16 | | Hugh Gorman | ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto 16 | | Gilbert Crumb | ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto 16 | | Thomas Bartlet | ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto 16 | | James Smith | ditto | | | Fugere March 19th | | Barnaby Kirk | ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 19th | | George Hayes | ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto 19th | | Thomas White | ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto 19th | | Henry Martin | ditto | | | Denant March 16th | |Robert Weatherhead| ditto | | | Fugere March. 19th | | Isaac Lane | Seaman | | | Lorient, April 20th | | Arthur Young | Ditto | | | Ditto.-Ditto do. | | Richard Fell | Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | | Robert Hill | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | William Fox | Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | | James Yuney | Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | | Duncan Taylor | Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | | John Mc.Kinlay | Ditto | | | Nants, March 15th | | George Walker | Ditto | | | Ditto.-Ditto do. | | William Adamson |Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Michael Thompson |Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | William Wilson |Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | James Kirby |Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | David Kirk |Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto-do. | | Lewis Brown |Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | John Harriment |Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | James Evans |Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | John Hart |Ditto | | | Haver Degrace April 1th | | William Hamilton | Ditto | | | Brest March the IId. | | John West | Ditto | | | Fugere May 21th | | John Whright | Ditto | | | Fuger March 19th | | John Pierce | Seaman | | | Fugere May 21th | | Robert Dougherty | Seaman | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Richard Hughes | Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | | John Brown | Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | | Adam Mc.Creight | Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | | William Clidodale| Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | |John Williams, the 2.| Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | | Michael Slater | Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto do. | | Joseph Landcraft | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Ezra Abbot | Ditto | | | Denant May 23th | | John Conner | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto..do. | | Lawrence Driskell| Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto do. | | Henry Phillips | Ditto | | | Lorient May 27th | |=John= Jonathan Stell| Ditto | | | Ditto April 20th | | Jacques Morean | Ditto | | | Ditto June 14th | | James Johnston | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 14 | | George Kelson | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 14 | | Joseph Walker | Ditto | | | Nants March 13th | | Andrew Thompson | Ditto | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | John Mc.Caffrey | Ditto | | | Fugere, May 21th | | Thomas Cane | Ditto | | | Ditto March 19the | | Benjamin Morris | Ditto | | | Fugere May 21th | | John Hall | Ditto | | | 1779. | | | | | | Dinant March 16th | | Edward Conner | Ordinary Seaman | | | Fugere March 19the | | James Mc.Kinzee | Ditto | | | Lorient April 20the | | Robert Mc.Colloch| Ditto | | | Brest March 2the | | Robert Rowen | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto 2 | | David Prichard | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 2 | | Nicholass Lawless| Ditto | | | Ditto..Ditto 2 | | Andrew Ryan | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto 2 | | Samuel Mathews | Ditto | | | Dinant March 16th | | John Hayney | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 16 | |Thomas Cane, the first| Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 16 | | Lawrence Furlong | Ditto | | | Fugere March 19the | | W. Thomas Forrest| Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto 19 | | Stephen Ously | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 19 | | Thomas Harris | Ditto | | | Lorient April 20th | | Robert Jones | Ditto | | | Paimbauf April 5th | | Robert Mahany | Ditto | | | Lorient April 20th | | John Colbreath | Ditto | | | Fugere May 21th, | | Edward Loyd | Ditto | | | Ditto, Ditto do. | | James Crauford | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | John Hammond | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do | | Daniel McCarty | Ditto | | | =Ditto Ditto d= | | | | | | Lorient June 12th, | | Lawrence Vernus | Ditto | | | Lorient June 14th | | James Kindrick | Ordinary Seaman | | | Ditto-Ditto 14 | | Joseph Love | Ditto | | | Ditto. Ditto 14 | | John Lighton | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto 14 | |Joseph Louen. french man,| Ditto | | | Dinant March 19th | | George Johnston | Ditto | | | =Lorient June 12th= | | =Joseph Love= | =Ditto= | | | Lorient July 19 | | Francis Campblle | Seaman | | | Brest March 2th | | Anthony Jeremy | Landsman | | | Ditto-Ditto 2th | | William Mallet | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 2th | | John Ridway | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto 2th | | George Munnical | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto 2th | | Richard Williams | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto 2th | | Robert Marshall | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto 2th | | James Power | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto 2th | | John Jordan | Ditto | | | Fugere March 19th | | James Parry | Ditto | | | Fugere March 19 | | George Williams | Landsman | | | Do. Do. | | James Martin | Do. | | | Do Do. | | Henry Couzen's | Do. | | | Do. Do. | | Alexr Cooper | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | John Mc.Donnald | Ditto | | | Lorient April do. | | Stephens Graves | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Meacum McDonal | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Thomas Davis | Ditto | | | ditto ditto do. | | William Thomson, | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | William Morgan | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Robert Mastres | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto--do. | | John Gray | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Peter Richardson | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | John Damster | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Joseph Stewart | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Samuel Fergurson | Ditto | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | Samuel Fletcher | Ditto | | | Ditto. Ditto do. | | Ichabod Shaw | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Thomas Hammet | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Stephen Loley | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Abisha Rogers | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Aron Goodwin | Ditto | | | Ditto. Ditto do. | | Nathl. Kennard | Ditto | | | Dinant March 16th | | William Smith | Landsman | | | Ditto--Ditto 16 | | Simon Searle | Ditto | | | Ditto. Ditto 16 | | Simon Williams | Ditto | | | Ditto. Ditto 16 | | Joseph Crooks | Ditto | | | Fugere May 21the | | Peter Corster | Ditto | | | Ditto. Ditto do. | | Andrew Maison | Ditto | | | Ditto. Ditto do | | William Woodhead | Ditto | | | Lorient April 20th, | |William Cullingwood.| Ditto | | | =Ditto Ditto do.= | | John Smart | Ditto | | | Dinant, March 16th | | | | | | Ditto..Ditto. do. | | Stephen McCoy | Ditto, Taylor | | | Fugere March 19th | | Charles Ryley | Ditto, Taylor | | | Pimbauf April 5the | | Thomas Knight | Carpenter | | | Nants March 15the | | James Linn | Barber | | | Lorient April 20th | | Joseph Collison | Carpenter | | | Ditto..Ditto 20th | | John Handerhan | Joyner | | | Ditto..Ditto 20th | | John Rice | Cooper | | | Ditto..Ditto 18the | | Jacques Connou | Carpenter | | | =Ditto Ditto do.= | | | | | | Dinant March 19 | | Thomas Cole | Landsman | | | Brest March 2the | | Peter Nuddle | Boy | | | Dinant March 16the | | Chales Finch | Ditto | | | Fugere March 19th | | Patrick Condon | Ditto | | | Brest March 2th | | Daniel Swain | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Joseph Brussen | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | William Totten | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Richard Jeffers | Ditto | | | Fugere March 19th | |John Jones the 1d.| Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Joseph Burns | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto 20th | | John Flood | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Samuel Higgens | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | John Duffy | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto do. | | John Jones the 2d| Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto do. | | John Stephens | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Jeremiah Loney | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Alexander Mc.Donnald| Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Chals Donnelly | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Daniel Murphy | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do | | John Panherman | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto do. | | John Cox | Ditto | | | Ditto-Ditto do. | | William Knox | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Aron Smith | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | Abram Martell | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | |William Shewsberry| Ditto | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | Nathaniel Bayly | Boy | | | Nants March 15th | | Henry Humphreys | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | William Langum | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | John Moore | Ditto | | | Lorient April 20the | | James Mehanny | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | James Mane | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | John Crowly | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Hugh Mc.Intire | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | William Wilkinson| Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Robert Mc.Cullock| Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Daniel Cammeron | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Angus Campbil | Ditto | | | Ditto--Ditto do. | | David Stockton | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Elijah Middleton | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do. | | Christy Yeatly | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do | | George Harraway | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do | | Robert Seaford | Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do | | John Jordan | Ditto | | | Havre Degrace May 1th | | Francis Perkins | Ditto | | | Lorient April 30th | | Lewis Role Johnno| Ditto | | | Ditto Ditto do | | Jacques Blorgu | Ditto | | | Ditto April 20 | |William Carmichael| Ditto | | | Nantes March 15th | | Nathaniel Bonnon | Ditto | | | Brest March 2th | | James Williams | Boy | | | Lorient July 19the | | John Hackit | Ditto | | | A List of Officers and Men, belonging to the American Continental Ship of War (Ariel) Commanded by the Honble John Paul Jones Esqr[29] [Footnote 29: This inscription in Beaumont Groube's handwriting occurs on this page. It is repeated again on p. 20. Groube evidently saw that there was not room here for the list, the following pages being already filled in.] A List of The Men Names that has Desarted from The Bone Homme Richard, Lorient July. 19th. 1779 ===================================================================================================================== Place & Time of Entry |No.| Mens Names | Qualities | Place & Time Desarted | Time Returned -------------------------+---+--------------------+--------------------+----------------------------+---------------- Pimbauf April 5th | 1| Richard Soward | Midshipman | Lorient July 9th | | | | | | Fugere March 19th | 2| Andrew Lindsay | Boatswain | Lorient July 9 | | | | | | Nantes | 3| Ebenezer Hoog | Stewart | Lorient July 10th | | | | | | Lorient | 4| | Surgeons, Mate | Lorient July 7 | | | | | | Ditto | 5| | Ditto | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Pimbauf March 15th | 6| James Ennion | Seaman | Ditto Ditto 3th | | | | | | Ditto Ditto do. | 7| Thomas Powel | Ditto | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Ditto Ditto do. | 8| William Campbell | Landsman | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Dinaunt March 16th | 9| Cooper McConnell | Seaman | Ditto Ditto 4th, | | | | | | Nantes Ditto 15th | 10| Joseph Curtis | Ditto | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Lorient April 20th | 11| Alexander Mcnarren | Ditto | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Ditto Ditto do. | 12| William Hudgson | Ditto | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Nantes March 15th | 13| John Lumbley | Ditto | Ditto Ditto 6do. | | | | | | Brest March 2th | 14| William Hannover | Ditto | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Ditto Ditto 2the | 15| John Timlen | Ordinary Seaman | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Fugere Ditto 19the | 16| John Campbell | Seaman | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Haver Degrace April 1th | 17| Archibald Mc.Kinlay| Ditto | Ditto Ditto 11th | | | | | | Lorient April 20the | 18| William Gibson | Ditto | Ditto Ditto 9the | | | | | | Ditto Ditto do. | 19| William Lister | Landsman | Ditto Ditto do. | July the 19 | | | | | Brest March 2th | 20| James Sommers | Ordinary Seaman | Ditto Ditto 11the | | | | | | Lorient April 20th | 21| Vaughan Bell | Landsman | Ditto Ditto do. | July the 19 | | | | | Fugere March 19the | 22| Emanuel Miles | Ordinary Seaman | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Nantes March 15th | 23| William Hall | Quarter gunner | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Lorient April 20th | | John McIntire | Seaman | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Nants April 5the | | Elischa Johnston | Quarter gunner | Ditto Ditto do. | | | | | | Pimbauf April 5th | | John Atwood | Landsman | Lorient July 6the | A List of Officers, & Men, belonging to the American Continental Ship of War, Ariel, Commanded, by the Honble, John Paul Jones ========================================================================================================================= _No._ | _Mens Names_ | _Qualy._ |_No._| _Mens Names_ | _Qualy._ |_No._| _Mens Names_ | _Seamen_ --------+---------------------+-----------+-----+---------------------+--------------+-----+-------------------+------------ | Richd. Dale | Lieut. | 0 | Jno Bourbank | Masr Arms | 0' | Willm. Lee | do | | | | | | | | | Henry Lunt | do. | | Edwd. Garrett | Bon Mate | '0 | Danl. Willott | do | | | | | | | | | Saml. Stacey | Mastr. | 0 | Martin Shaw | do. | '0 | Jno Wilson | do | | | | | | | | | Mattw. Maize | Purser | 0 | Wm. Roberts | Coopr. | '0 | Jno Mosey | do | | | | | | | | | Amos Windship | Surgn. | 0 | Jno Gates | Gunrs Mate | 0' | Gerlano Bairdo | do | | | | | | | | | John Frankford | Mrs Mte. | | Preservd Syssell | Gunr Mate | 0' | Antonio Sponza | do | | | | | | | | | | | Dd. | Josh. Walker | Gunrs. Yeon. | -- | Pier Locby | do run Augt. 5 | | | | | | | | | Thos. Potter | Mid | | | | 1 | Andw. Markhouse | do Hoste. | | | | | | | | | Beaut Groube | Mid | 0 | Jno Woulton | Qr Masr. | '0 | Pedro Ambregue | do | | | | | | | | | Natl. Fanning | Mid | 0 | Valente. Strong | do | 0' | Antonio Mazzingay | do. | | | | | | | | | Joseph Hitchborn | Mid | 0' | Elizh. Johnston | Qr Gunr. | 0' | Augustino Martino | do | | | | | | | | | Artr. Robinson | Mid | 0 | Jno Down | do | '0 | Bernardo Jo Vera | do | | | | | | | | run | Jonathn. Lander | Mid | 0' | Wm. Clarke[1] | do | 1 | Thos. Golligan | | | | | | | | | | Khervillon | Dischd. | 0' | Thos. Austin | do | 1 | Richd Stephens | | | | | | | | | | John Peacock | Surge Mat | 1 | Thos. Knight | Carpr | -- | Jno Duboy | run August 10 | | | | | | | | run | John Daily | do | 1 | Jno Handerham | do | --' | Harry Tommy | run Sep 14 | | | | | | | | | Abisha Perkins[1] | do | 1 | Wm. Priest | do. | 0' | Louis Groa | | | | | | | | | run | John Chester | Carpr. | 1 | Edwd. Cooney | Sean. | 0' | Jno Obrey | | | | | | | | | | Jno. Wheeler | Gunr | 1 | Wm. Pool. | Sean. | 0 | Josh. Antoine | | | | | | | | | run | Danl. Russell | Stewd | '0 | Banj: Stubbs | do. | | | | | | | | | | | 0 | Jno Gunnison | Carprs. | 1 | Lawe. Furlong | do. | | | | | | | | | | | | | Mate | '0 | Jno Browne | do. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | '0 | Andrew Ryan | do. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | ================================================================================================================ _No._ | _Mens Names_ | _Quality_ |_No._| _Mens Names_ | _Qualy._ |_No._| _Boys_ --------+---------------------+-----------+-----+---------------------+--------------+-----+-------------------- '0 | Aaron Goodwin | Ory. Sean.| '0 | John Thompson | Landn. | '0 | Saml. Getchell | | | | | | | 1 | Geo. Johnston | do. | 1 | Wm. Mc.Cullock | do. | '0 | Jno. Wier | | | | | | | 1 | Saml. Matthews | do. | 1 | Chas. Riley | do | '0 | Jno Dupee | | | | | | | '0 | Danl. Swain | do. | '0 | Jno Warren | do | '0 | Saml. Gray | | | | | | | 1 | Jno Rudderford | do | '0 | Isaih Jordan | do. | 1 | James Chester Run | | | | | | | '0 | Peter Nuddle | do | | Nichs. Caldwell | do | 1 | James Mahany Run | | | | | | | 0' | Richd. Wilson | do. | '0 | Lewis Pastillo | do | '0 | John Duffy | | | | | | | 0 | Jno Hatton | do | 0' | Alexr. Mayson | do. | 0' | John Hackett | | | | | | | '0 | Jno Ungey | do | 1 | Vinun Marc | do | 0 | Elizh. Middleton | | | | | | | 0-1/2' | Lewis Lennard. | do. | '0 | Pier Villerett | do. | 0 | Wm. Ears | | | | | | | '0 | Dominique Portuguese| do | 0 | --Gulliam Langlois | | | Chas. Glover--Capt Clerk | | | | | | | '0 | Joseph Morea. | do | 0 | --Noehauless | do. | | Jno Gilbin | | | | | | | '0 | Lewis Marlin | do. | | | |1/2 0| Tusan Lucas | | | | | | | 0' | Jacob Henry | do | | | |1/2 0| Jno Mai | | | | | | | | Francoi Bullon | do | | | | | =Josh. Cushon= | | | | | | | 1+ | Jno Thomas | do | 0 | Jas. Makenzy | Cripples | 1/2 | { Sam: Hammon | | | | | | 0| { 0 | Amos Wait | do. | 0 | Jno Jordan | do | 1/2 | { Aaron Burges | | | | | | | 1/2'0 | John Marlin+ | do Run | 0 | Joseph Brussen | do | | =Louis Cushon= | | | | | | | '0 | Joanna Cushero | do. | | | |1/2 0| Jacque Blorga | | | | | | | 0 | Jean Romaine | do. | | | | | Joseph Courdavieta | | | | | | | | Andrew | | | | | | =Tixtheren= | | | | | | | Oct. 7 | =Edward= Roach | | | | |1/2 0| Titzerre | | | | | | | | Michal Mc. Graw | | 0 | Abrm. Martell. | Servt. | 0 | Robert Cudriaux | | | | | | | Oct. 18| Robert Tommas | | | Antoine Jeremy | do | 0 | Claud Le Maitre | | | | | | | | | | | Chas. Priley | do. | | | | | | | | | | | | | Chas. Steward. | do | | Remarks on Friday 24th, Sepr. 1779 The first part of this 24 Hours light Breese of Wind and clear Weather At 2 P.M. sent away the Pilot Boat with the 2d. Lieutenant and a number of Marines Arm'd; after a Brigg to the Windward lying too under her Fore Topsail At 3 P.M. saw a Fleet to the leeward among them appear'd to be two Ship's of War made a Signal for the Alliance to give Chase at 1/2 past 3 P.M. fir'd a Gun at the Boat for =the Boat= her to return to us; she Bore away for us & at Do. we made Sail gave Chase to the two Ships that were to the leeward of us that appeard to be =Arm'd= Ships of War; The Pallas and Brigg Vengeance gave Chase likewise at 5 P.M. The Fleet stood in for the Land & the two =Arm'd= Ships of War hove too ready for engaging of us we Bore away for to meet them & got the Ship ready for engaging (all Hands being at their Quarters) at 6 P.M. spoke the Pallas and Ordered her to Keep astern of us; at 1/2 past 6 P.M. hoisted a Signal for the rest of the Squadron to form a line at Do. =hailed the largest Ship= One of the Ships hailed us; Answers of no great Consequence return'd. =The= The Capt. of the Ship; that appeard to be the largest said tell me Instantly from whence You came and who You be or i'll fire a Broad side into You; finding her to be an Enemy discharg'd a Broadside into her which She return'd after exchanging three or four Broadsides came to Yard Arm, & Yard Arm, in which posture both ships lay the rest of the engagement; lash'd the Enemies Ship to Ours; after we had engag'd about an Hour the Alliance came up and rak'd us twice; kill'd and wounded a Number of our Men; The engagement was so hot that both Ships got on fire several times; which was put out with as much expedition as possible by the Men belonging to each Ship; all this time the engagement was exceeding warm. Both ships keeping up a heavy fire with Cannon and small Arms; just before the engagement ended saw the Alliance coming down upon us hailed her and Orderd her to Board the Enemy immediately but she return'd no answer; shot ahead of us and raked Both Ships; the Enemy then crying for Quarters Capt. Jones said, haul your Colours down then; which was granted immediately & our People took possession of her; She afterwards fir'd three Guns & wounded several of Our Men while they were Boarding of her; She struck to us at 1/2 past 10 P.M. at Do. cast the Ship off from us, and as soon as we got Clear of her; her Main Mast fell over her Side; She prov'd to be the Serapis of 46 Guns the latter part of the Night all employed in putting out the fire in different parts of the Ship and in Pomping she having not less than =two= three foot of Water in her Hold; The Carpenters employed in stoping the leeks with the assistance of the Carpenters from the Other Ships; The leek still gaining on us; we were supply'd with Men from the other Ships; who assisted in heaving the Lower Deck Guns overboard & the Dead Men &c--- 25th. The first part of this 24 Hours Moderate Breeses & Clear Weather. The leak still increasing got assistance from the other Ships of Officers & Men some of whom assisted in Pomping The leak still gaining on us Notwithstanding all the Pomps were at work. The Carpenters crying out that it was impossible to stop the leak At 2 P.M. Capt. Jones with the Capt. & Lieutenant of the Prize; quitted the Ship & left Orders to keep the Pomps agoing & the Carpenters at Work; at 7 He return'd and found the leak increasing in Consequence of which He Order'd the wounded to be Carried on Board the different Vessels & things that was most Necessary to be taken out of the Ship; Boats from the rest of the Squadron were employed for that purpose. At 1/2 past 7 P.M. the Capt. left the Ship with several more of the Officers =&= repar'd on Board of the Prize; At 10 P.M. the Capt. sent for the Master of the Ship; & Orders for the Officers then on Board that did not belong to her, to repair on Board their respective Ships with their Men, they immediately quitted the Pomps and Obeyed Orders; Boats were employed the latter part of the Night in Carrying the Men & things that were most Necessary from the Ship to the different Vessels in the Squadron; At 4 A.M. quitted the Pomps the Water then being almost up to the lower Deck; At 10 Do. every Man left the Ship At 1/2 Past 10 A.M. there was a Boat sent from the Commodore The Serapis to go on Board the Bon homme Richard But before the Boat got along side She Sunk which was about 11 A.M. latter Part Fresh Breeses and a large Sea---- NOTE:--This account, in the handwriting of Lieutenant Henry Lunt, was originally written in the Serapis' log, from which it was torn, and now is in the John Paul Jones Papers, Peter Force Collection, Vol. VI., No. 29. These pages, in facsimile, have now been inserted in their proper place in the original logs. Some Remarkable Occurrences that happened on the 23d day of September 1779--relative to the Bon Homme Richard, and the Serapis.--Commanded by Richard Pearson Esqr At 1/2 Past 1 being off Scarborough, discovered the Serapis, and a Number of Vessels under her Convoy-- The Bon Homme Richard at 1/2 Past 7. P M. came up with and Engaged her, at 8 P M. Laid the Serapis along side and lashed the Bon Homme Richard to her, At 1/2 Past 12 at Night the Serapis' Colours, were Halled down and some of the Bon Homme Richards Officers & Men boarded her, A Journall Kept on Board the Serapis, an English Ship of War, of 44 Guns taken the 23rd. of September, (by the Bon Homme Richd.,) now Commanded by the Honble. John Paul Jones ===+===+======+===+=========+=======+====================================== _H_|_K_|_[HK]_|_F_|_Courses_|_Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday 26th Septr. 1779_ ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | | | ESE | SSW |These 24 Hours Cloudy Weather, Fresh 2 | 2 | | | | |Breezes Wind, in Company with the 3 | 2 | | | | |Frigate Alliance and Pallas, the Brig 4 | 2 | | | | |Vengeance, and Countess of Scarbro' of | | | | | |20 guns, one of the Prizes 5 | 2 | | | | | 6 | 2 | | | | | 7 | 2 | | | | | 8 | 3 | | | | |People Employed refitting the Rigging 9 | 2 | | | | |&c. of the Serapis, which Ship Capt. 10 | 3 | | | | |Jones, as Commodore, had Hoisted his 11 | 2 | | | | |Flag. the Bon Homme Richard sinking 12 | 2 | 1 | | | |from the damage she received the Night | | | | | |of the Action 1 | 2 | | | | | 2 | 3 | | | | | 3 | 2 | | | | |The Master at Arms was put in Irons 4 | 2 | | | | |for letting the Prisoners, loose on 5 | 2 | | | | |the Night of the Engagement 6 | 2 | | | | | 7 | 2 | | | | | 8 | 2 | | | | |Carpenters Employed repairing the 9 | 2 | | | | |damages the Serapis had sustained 10 | 2 | | | | |during the late Action. 11 | 2 | | | | | 12 | 2 | | | | | ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- _Remarks on Monday 27th Septr. 1779_ ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- 1| 2 | | | SEBE | SWBS | These 24 Hours begins with Moderate 2| 2 | | | | | Breezes of Wind, Dark Cloudy Weather. 3| 2 | | | | | 4| 2 | | | | | All Hands Employed, fitting the Ship 5| 2 | | | | | 6| 2 | | | | | 7| 2 | | | | SSW | 8| 2 | | | ESE | | At 6 P.M. got the Mizen Top Mast on 9| 2 | | | | | End, the Rigging over head and set | | | | | | it up 10| 2 | | | | | 11| 2 | | | | | 12| 2 | | | | | 1| 2 | | | | | 2| 2 | 1 | | | | At 3 A.M. Saw a Large Sail fired 3 3| 2 | | | | | Guns found her to be a Dutch | | | | | | Merchantman 4| 2 | | | | | 5| 2 | | | | | 6| 2 | | | | | 7| 2 | | | | | 8| 2 | | | | | 9| 2 | | | | | 10| 2 | | | | | 11| 2 | | | | | 12| 2 | | | | | ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- | _Remarks on Teusday 28th. Septr. 1779_ ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- 1| 1 | 1 | | SBE | SW | The first Part of these 24 Hours, 2| 2 | | | | | Clear and Pleasant Moderate Gales and | | | | | | fair Weather, 3| 2 | | | | | 4| 2 | 1 | | | | 5| 2 | | | | | 6| 2 | 1 | | SSE | SWBW | 7| 2 | | | | | 8| 2 | 1 | | | | Peope still Employed refitting the 9| 2 | | | | | Ship, with the Assistance of the | | | | | | Alliances People 10| 2 | | | | | 11| 2 | 1 | | | | 12| 2 | | | | | One Boat Employed, passing and 1| 2 | 1 | | | | repassing from Ship to Ship in 2| 2 | | | | | bringing Necessarys for the repair | | | | | | of the Ship 3| 2 | | | | | 4| 2 | | | | | 5| 2 | 1 | | ESE | SW | 6| 2 | | | | | 7| 2 | | | | | A M. at 1 Gott up a Jury Main Mast 8| 2 | | | | | 9| 2 | 1 | | | | 10| 2 | | | | | 11| 2 | | | | | 12| 2 | 1 | | | | ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- | _Remarks on Wednesday September 29th: 1779_ ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | | | SEBS | SW | These 24 Hours begins with Moderate 2 | 2 | | | | | Breezes and Hazy Weather, 3 | 2 | | | | | 4 | 2 | | | | | 5 | 2 | | | | | 6 | 2 | 1 | | | | People employed cleaning the Ships 7 | 2 | 1 | | | | Decks, and repairing the Ship &c. 8 | 2 | 1 | | | | 9 | 2 | 1 | | WBN | | At 9 A M. Hoisted 5 Lanthorns. at 10 | 2 | 1 | | | | the Mizen Peak and fired a gun as a 11 | 2 | 1 | | | | Signal for the Squadron to Heave in | | | | | | Stays, and stand to the Westward 12 | 2 | 1 | | ESE | SBW | 1 | 2 | 1 | | | | 2 | 2 | 1 | | | | 3 | 3 | | | | | 4 | 3 | | | | | At 1 A M made the same Signal, Wore 5 | 3 | | | | | Ship and stood to the Eastward again. 6 | 3 | | | | | 7 | 2 | 1 | | | | 8 | 2 | 1 | | | | Latter Part People Employed. bending 9 | 2 | 1 | | | | a Jury Main Sail 10 | 2 | 1 | | | | 11 | 2 | | | | | 12 | 2 | | | | | ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- | _Remarks on Thursday Septr. 30th. 1779_ ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 1 | | ESE | SSW | These 24 Hours Pleasant Weather, and | | | | | | a smooth Sea 2 | 2 | 1 | | | | 3 | 2 | 1 | | | | 4 | 2 | 1 | | | | At 2 P. M got the Main Sail, and bent | | | | | | it, and sett it 5 | 2 | 1 | | SEBS | SWBW | 6 | 2 | 1 | | | | 7 | 2 | | | | | 8 | 2 | 1 | | | | At 12 P M made the Signal for Heaving | | | | | | in Stays 9 | 2 | 1 | | | | 10 | 2 | 1 | | | | 11 | 2 | 1 | | | | 12 | 2 | 1 | | NNW | | At 4 P M made the Signal for the 1 | 2 | 1 | | | | Squadron to Tack and stand to | | | | | | the Eastward 2 | 2 | 1 | | | | 3 | 3 | | | | | 4 | 3 | | | SEBE | SWBS | At 8 A M swayed up the Main Top 5 | 3 | | | | | Mast and got the Main Top Sail | | | | | | Yard athwart 6 | 3 | | | | | 7 | 3 | | | | | At 10 A M set the Main Top Sail-- 8 | 4 | | | | | 9 | 4 | | | | | 10 | 4 | | | | | At Meridian made the Signal for 11 | 4 | | | | | the Squadron to Tack, 12 | 4 | | | WBS |South | ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- | _Remarks on Friday October 1st. 1779_ ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- 1 | 3 | | | WSW | SSE | The First part of these 24 Hours 2 | 3 | | | | | Cloudy Weather, Moderate Gales. | | | | | | and a smooth Sea, 3 | 3 | 1 | | | | 4 | 3 | 1 | | | | 5 | 4 | | | | | At 1 PM. saw 2 Strange Sail, did 6 | 4 | | | | | not alter our Course for them. 7 | 3 | 1 | | | | 8 | 3 | 1 | | | | 9 | 4 | | | SWBW | SEBE | Still Employed repairing the Ship 10 | 4 | | | | | 11 | 4 | | | | | 12 | 4 | | | South | WBS | 1 | 3 | | | | | 2 | 3 | 1 | | | | 3 | 4 | | | | | At 5 AM a Number of Vessels 4 | 3 | 1 | | | | appeared in Sight they proved to | | | | | | be a fleet of Dutch Merchantmen 5 | 4 | | | | | 6 | 4 | | | | | 7 | 4 | | | | | 8 | 4 | | | | | 9 | 4 | | | | | 10 | 4 | | | | | 11 | 4 | | | | | 12 | 4 | | | | | ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- | _Remarks on Satarday October 2nd. 1779_ ---+---+------+---+---------+-------+-------------------------------------- 1 | 4 | 1 | | SWBS | WNW | The First part of these 24 Hours | | | | | | Moderate Weather 2 | 5 | | | | | 3 | 5 | 1 | | | | At 3. PM. The Pilot, which we had 4 | 3 | 1 |23 | | | taken off Scarbro' and had Towed from 5 | 4 | | | | | thence, was employed in going from us 6 | 4 | | | | | to the Pallas, till 6 P.M. and then | | | | | | Veered a Stern again 7 | 4 | | | | | 8 | 3 | -- |21 | | | 9 | 3 | | | | | 10 | 3 | 1 | | | | At 10 AM. Handed the Mizen Top Sail, 11 | 3 | -- |16 | EBN | | which Sail was a Top Gallt. | | | | | | Sail 12 | 3 | -- |17 | | | 1 | 3 | | | | | Sounded every Quarter of an Hour, | | | | | | untill Day Light 2 | 3 | 1 | | | | 3 | 3 | 1 | | | | At 6AM. saw severall Ships and | | | | | | other Vessells 4 | 3 | | | | | 5 | 3 | | | | | At 1/2 Past 10 spoke with a Large Dutch | | | | | | Ship 6 | 3 | 1 | | | | 7 | 3 | | | | | At 7 AM. spoke the Pallas, 8 | 3 | 1 | | NEBE | | 9 | 3 | | | | | 10 | 3 | | | | | 11 | 3 | | | | | 12 | 3 | | | | | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday October 3rd. 1779_-- -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | First part of these 24 Hours. Clear and Pleasant Weather, Fresh | Gales and a Large Tumbling Swell from the Westward, at 2 P.M. made | the Land of Holland, near the Texel bearing EBS distant 5 Leagues, NW | at 4 P.M. a Pilot came on Board. Stood from the Land, Untill | Midnight and then made the Signal for the Squadron to Tack, and | stand in Shore at 6 AM. Found ourselves. close in with the Land, | at Meridian came to an Anchor in the Texel Road, with the rest of | the Squadron. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday October 4th. 1779_-- +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours begins with Pleasant Weather, at 1 P.M. the Captain ENE | of the Pallas came on Board, and Tarryd till 10 P.M. | | People employed on various Occasions +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday October 5th. 1779_-- +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours begins with Moderate Gales and Clear Weather, | People employed on Sundry Necessary Occasions | | At 10 PM. Two Men attempted to Swim on Shore, but they had not got EBS. | far before they were taken up and brought back again | | At 10 AM. Hove up our Anchor, and stood up towards the Texel with | the Tide +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday October 6th. 1779_-- +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The First part of these 24 Hours. Clear Weather, and Moderate ESE | Gales at 3PM. came too an Anchor, and moored Ship, found a Number | of Dutch Men of War, riding here. People employed unbending the | Sails and cleaning the Decks. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday October 7th. 1779_-- +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours People employed, unrigging, and preparing to get | the Jury Main Mast out, Received from the Pallas. 12 Bolts. of EBS | Canvas No. 2, and 3 Bundles of Twine, the Commodore set out for | Amsterdam, a Sergeant of Marines put in Irons, for Embezzling | several Articles of Cloathing out of the Pursers Store Room, | Squally Weather, with Rain =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday October 8th. 1779_-- -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Pleasant Weather, got out our Jury Main Mast. and | the Stump of the Old Main Mast, several Boats came alongside, and | brought us a great Plenty of Vegetables | | Received on Board from the Pallas the following Rigging | 1 Coil of 78 thread Cordage NEBE-- | 1 Coil of 45 ditto | 3 Coil of 27 ditto | 3 Coil of 33 do | 3 Coil of 24 do | 5 Coil of 30 do. | 4 Coil of 36 do | 3 Coil of 18 do | 2 Coil of 12 do +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday October 9th. 1779_-- +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Begins with fine Weather, and Light Breezes of Wind the | People Employed in Cleaning the upper, and Lower Gun Decks. and | in refitting the Fore Shrouds, | SBE. | Received on Board 2 Cask of Brandy | | Edward Garrett put in Irons for refusing to do his Duty after | being requested several times by Mr. Lunt +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday October 10th. 1779_-- +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fine Pleasant Weather, this Day People mostly employed in SSW | refitting the Rigging Sails &c. In the Night about 11 OClock, the | Stoppers of the Cables were cast off (by persons unknown,) in | Order to Let the Ship drive on Shore Received on Board as follows. | 8 Bbls. of Beef 4 Firks. of Butter 1 Cask of Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday October 11th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Moderate Gales. and fine Weather, &c. | &c. People Employed in Sundry Jobbs, 2 Carpenters came on Board | to help repair the Ship | | Received on Board the following Articles | Vizt. SSW | 1 Plank 16 Feet Long & 3. In, thick 9 In. Broad | 2 Teirces of Beef | 1 do. 9 Feet do. 9 In do. 4 do. | 2 Barrels of Bread | 100 lb. Beef | 2 Hhds. of Bread | 300 Bread | 146 Head of Cabbage | 11 Teirces of Beer, | =======+===================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday October 12th.. 1779_-- -------+--------------------------------------------------------------------- SWBS. | Dark Rainy Weather, followed by High Winds, People Employed | making Foxes Sinnett &c. Carpenters at work under the Half Deck. | | Edward Garrett released from Irons +===================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday October 13th.. 1779--_ +--------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Moderate Weather, People employed fitting the Ship | for Sea Received on Board from the Pallas, | 426 lb. Beef | 483 lb. Bread & 12 Pine Plank. | | Received from a Lighter which came from Amsterdam as follows-- | 16 Skanes of Hamber Line | 12 Bundles of Marline | 12 Skanes of Hausing | 4 Coils of 9 Thread Cordage | 2 Coils of 12 Thread Cordage | 2 Top Sail Sheet Blocks. & 2 Quarter do. | 10 Single Blocks | 3 Cask. of 33 Cordage | 2 Cask of 30 Cordage | 1 Cask of 72 thread do. | 1 Cask of 42 thread do. | 1 Cask of 54 do | Part of a Coil of Hauser laid Rope 90 thread | 1 Large Coil of 5-1/4 In .... Do | 1 Coil of 39 thread Cordage | 1 Coil of 36 do | part of a Coil of Hauser laid Rope | 2 Coils for Tacks. 2 Coils for Top Mast stays | 9 Pieces of Shroud Hauser & a Main Stay | 4 Tanned Hydes | 1 small Cask of Nails | 1 Coil of 5 Inch Rope | 12 Oak Plank | 100 lb. Oakham | 3 Teirces of Beef | 12 Teirces of Beer | 1 Box", ============================================================================= _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday October 14th. 1779._ -------+--------------------------------------------------------------------- SWBS | This Day Moderate Weather, got in the Stump of the Old Main Mast | and got up a Jury Main Mast again, at 2. OClock in the Afternoon | while the Officers and Men were at Dinner, 22 of the People, and 3 | that belonged to the Alliance, Frigate got into a Dutch Boat then | along side and made off----several Small Arms were fired at | them. without Effect, The Commanding Officer, | Mr. Deal Orderd some Hands into a Boat a Long side, with Lieut. | Stack, and M. Groube Midshipn. to go on Board the Pallas Frigate | (which lay not far off) in Order to procure a Boat. | to pursue the Deserters, as the Boat they being in | was too small, they Procured. the Pallas. Long | Boat. with some Marines and pursued them, and in a | short time came within Musquet Shott of them,--the Deserters Left | their Boat. and were up to their Middles in Water, | as the Boat in which were Messrs. Stack and Groube. came near, and | they with their People went in the Water after them, the | Deserters formed themselves with knives drawn to receive them--but | after a Discharge of Musquets over their Heads. they petitioned. | for Quarters, but some of them made towards the Shore, and were | closely pursued but there being a Channel betwixt the Main, and a | small Neck of Land, they Landed on.--some that could Swim ventured | themselves a Cross. the others that could not surrendered. 9 | ventured a Cross. 5 of which were drowned, at 1/2 Past 5. the Boat | returned with 16 of the Deserters | | their Names as follows. | | James Perry } | John Brown } Alliances Among these Deserters were 2 | Francis Campbell } --------- Portuguese who had no hand in | Wm. Fox } Wm. Packer the Scheme but only got into | James Quin } Wm. Pritchard the Boat for to Buy Apples | Lawrence Vernurs } Jas. Ferran they were all put in Irons | Saml. Matthews } except the Portuguese | Hugh Roney } | Willm. Clidsdale } { Robt. Stevens | Lewis Brown } { Robt. Weatherhead | Arthur Young } { Robt. McCullen | { Wm. Smith | Still Missing { Peter Richardson | { John Stevens | { Aaron Smith | { Jno. McIntyre | { Arthr. Randall =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday October 15th. 1779_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fine Pleasant Weather, this day bent the Fore Sail. Fore Top | Sail Fore Stay Sail & Jibb, and then got the Main Top Gallt. Mast up | instead of a Main Top Mast. | Vble. | Received a Lighter from Amsterdam the folowg. Articles | 2 Trebble Blocks | 522 lb. Cheese | 1 Barrel. 1 Firkin of Butter +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday October 16th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | First Part of this Day. Dark Cloudy Weather | | Received from Amsterdam as follows Vizt. | 3 Teirces of Bread | 2 Teirces of Beef WBS. | 50 Casks of Beer | | At Noon 2 French Cutters came into the Road, and Anchord a Stern of | us, Latter part of the day Blows a Gale, at 4 PM. Struck the Fore Top | Mast and got the Sheet Anchor, ready to let go +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday October 17th, 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Morning the Lieut. of the Pallas, came on board, with West | Orders from Capt. Cottineau, to get the Jury Main Mast out again which | was done by 4 PM. | | Fresh Gales and Clear Weather, Cleaned the Upper, & lower Gun Decks +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday October 18th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fine Moderate Weather, got the Stump of the Main Mast out again | Commodore Jones returned from Amsterdam | | Received from Amsterdam the following Articles vizt. | 40 Quarter Cask of Beer 16 Pine Plank | 1 Barrel of Tar 9 Oak Plank | 3 Barrels of Pitch 16 Oak Boards | 20 Single & double Blocks of difft Sizes 10 Pine Boards | 1 small Cask of Bread 11 Slips of do | 1 small Cask of Nails 5 Tice ============================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday October 19th. 1779--_ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ | This Day Moderate and Fair Weather, People employed Cleaning the | Ships Decks, Hoisting in Water &c. &c. 7 Dutch Carpenters at work on | Board Received on Board from Amsterdam as follows Vizt. | | 30 Barrels of Pork | 1 Barrel of Butter | 2 Bags of Cuff Irons | 10 Barrels of Flour | 3 Kegs of Barly | 1 Large Chest marked D N | 1 Barrel of Rice | 1 Keg of Sugar | 2 Canvas Bales | 218 Cheeses |12 Oars |24 Handspikes EBS | 8 Bags of Potatoes | 6 small Spars |Main Truss & Cross Trees | 7 Bags of Pease | 8 Oak Plank |Main Top | 1 Firkin of Butter |24 Bundles of Spun Yarn| 1 Bundle of Cork | | 2 Bags of Hand Irons | a Turning Machine | | 59 English Prisoners taken on Board the Serapis sent on Board the Scarborough | |====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday October 20th. 1779--_ |---------------------------------------------------------------------- SE | This Day fine Pleasant Weather, People variously employed, Received on | Board the following Articles from Amsterdam | 1 Iron Hoop-- } The Main Mast, and 2 Large Spars were Towed off and | 4 Bolts of Iron } veered a Stern |====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday October 21st. 1779--_ |---------------------------------------------------------------------- WBS. | This Day begins with Moderate Weather, and small Winds, at 10 A M | unmoored, and moved up the Road farther, as did the rest of the | Squadron, at 1 PM. came too an Anchor, and moord Ship |====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday October 22nd. 1779_ |---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fine Weather. People Employed, Cleaning the Upper, & Lower Gun | Decks sent on Board the Pallas the following Articles Vizt. | | 2 Coils of 9 Thread Ratling } 4 Skanes of White Line | 2 Coils of 6 do } 1 Barrel of Oyl for Lamps | 8 Skanes of Marline } 1 Box of Candles | 4 Skanes of Hamber Line } 4 Barrels of Flour | 30 Yds. of Old Canvas } | 12 Yds. of New do. } |====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday October 23rd. 1779--_ |---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fine Weather, 1 Officer, a Boatswain & 19 Men, belonging to WBS. | the Alliance came on Board to assist in fitting the Ship for Sea ========+===================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday October 24th. 1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Dark Foggy Weather. this Day. People employed, Hoisting Water Casks WSW | out of the Hold, that were filled with Salt Water, and Clearing out the | Hold Received on Board 663 lb. Fresh Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday October 25th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Foggy Weather, People Employed fixing Rigging for the Main | Mast, some shipping the Fore Top Mast, others Cleaning the Main Hold +====================================================================== | Received from Amsterdam as follows | | 37 Bags of Bread | 24 Iron Scrapers | Sent 10 Cask of Rum on SW | 6 Marlin Spikes | 6 Locks | Board | 6 Serving Malletts | 1 Canvas Bale | the Vengeance, | 1 Box of Tin | a Cap for ye Mainmast | 7 Dutch Carpenters at | 1 small Packet of | a Cap for ye Topmast | work on | Nails | 2 Pair of Cross Trees | Board this. day | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday October 26th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Cloudy Weather, fresh Breezes of Wind, People employed | fitting the Ship for Sea, Received from Amsterdam as follows | | 29 Teirces of Beef | 1 Cable | 7 Dutch Carpenters & 2 | 18 Teirces of Rum | 1 Armourers Bellows | Glaziers at Work this | 2 Pipes of Wine | a Parcell of Wood | Day. The Alliances | 9 Bags of Pease | 520 lb. fresh Beef | People as before | 138 Head of Cabbages | | Deserted Stephn. Graves | | | Butcher | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday October 27th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Foggy Weather with Rain, People Employed on Sundry Jobbs. | Dutch Carpenters still at work, 2 Americans came on Board, one of which SWBS | named Wm. Greenill, Acted in the Station of a Lieutenant having made | his Escape from Fortune Prison in England, the other Joseph Wilson | did the duty of an Acting Midshipman Recd. 550 lb. Beef 23 lb. fr Veal +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday October 28th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fresh Gales of Wind and Rainy Weather, People employd, fixing WNW | the Rigging for the Main Mast, and Main Top Mast, at 1P.M. Blew | very Heavy the Boat went on Shore this Morning for Beef. But Not returned +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday October 29th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- NNE | This Day Blows a Gale of Wind People variously employed People | variously Recd. 797 lb. Beef 156 lb. Mutton =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Satarday October 30th. 1779_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with Dark Foggy Weather, People Employed Hoisting | in the Sheers, and getting them lashed, together to step the Main NBE | Mast,--Deserted William Hamilton Quarter Master | Left the Ship the following Officers, belonging to the State of South Carolia | Messrs. Linthwaite, Coram. & Morant, Midshipmen, Dutch | Carpenters and the Alliances as people as usual +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday October 31st. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- Vble | Dark Cloudy Weather, People variously employed, Dutch Carpenters at | Work sent Water Casks on Shore to be filled Recd. 523 lb. Fresh Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday November 1st. 1779._ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Cloudy Weather, People employd, Hoisting in several Spars NNE. | getting the Fore Top Mast on End, and the Fore Top Sail Yard athwart | Dutch Carpenters as before, Recd. 620 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday November 2nd. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- NNW | People Employed Rigging the Ship, the Alliances. People, & Dutch Carpenters | as before +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday November 3rd. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with Cloudy Weather, Dutch Carpenters as usual Recd NW. | 450 lb Beef--Received from Amsterdam 2 Long Deal Planks. 56 Long | Boards 646 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday November 4th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fresh Gales of Wind, People Employed. setting up the Fore | Shrouds and Cleaning the Lower Gun Deck, Got the Main mast slung and NNW | partly Hoisted on Board, Dutch Carpenters not to work this day | | Towards Night struck the Fore Top Mast. Rec--595 · lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday November 5th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day thick Cloudy Weather, & Hard Rain Got the Main mast NE. | a Cross the Ship the Alliances People as before, Dutch Carpenters | not at Work, Recd. 589 lb. Beef =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Satarday November 6th: 1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | First part of this day Cloudy Weather, Fresh Gales of Wind, and a Considerable | Swell, which Prevents our Stepping the Main Mast, People | employed variously. got the Sprit Sail Yard, athwart. the Bowspritt. NNW. | The Dutch Carpenters not at work this day | Received on Board 425 lb. Beef 80 lb. Pork, | sent 30 Casks on Shore to be filled with Water +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday November 7th.. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Thick Weather, and Rain, People Employed getting in the Main | Mast and stepping it, sent away for Amsterdam 78 Casks, and the Main Vble | Top Got the Main Yard in Fore and Aft, on Deck, and Sundry other | Jobbs. Received 466 lb. Beef & 149 lb. Veal, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday November 8th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day thick Weather, and some Rain, People Employed getting the | Main Rigging overhead, and sundry other Jobbs. the Dutch Carpenters, | at work, One Officer, and a Number of Men from the Alliance, at work, | the Alliances Cutter was sent on Shore, with 4 Hands, to carry the Carpenters | on Shore, which after they had done, 3 of them deserted from the | Boat. A Lighter came from Amsterdam, with water. and sundry other | Articles Vizt. | 18 small Dead Eyes, for the Topmast Shrouds | 2 Sheaves. with Iron Pins & Bras Coggs | 1 Spare Pin and Cogg | Took the Boom Irons off the Main Yard, and put some others on it | Recd. 481 lb. Beef =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday November 9th. 1779_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with a Fresh Breeze of Wind and some Rain, People | Employed, some in Stripping the Main Shrouds, and the rest about WNW | sundry other Jobbs, No Dutch Carpenters on board this day to | Work, One Officer, from the Alliance, with a Number of Men came | to Work, this day. 2 of the Alliances Men Deserted, Recd. 482 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday Novr. 10th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with a Fresh Breeze of Wind and some Rain | People employed in Turning the Dead Eyes in the Main Shrouds | and Sundry other Jobbs got the Sheers over head, the Boat went on NNE | Shore and could not get off again, in the Evening Cleared the Hause | No Dutch carpenters at work this Day | Received from the Shore 569 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday 11th November 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with fresh Breeze of Wind, and Squally Weather | People Employed, in setting up the Main Shrouds. and other Jobbs NBW. | sent the Sheers on Shore, One Officer from the Alliance, and a Number | of Men came to work, Recd. 626 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday 12th. November 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with Rainy Weather, and a Fresh Breeze of Wind | sent a Boat a shore for the Main Top, Brought it off and got it SW | over Head, a Lighter came with Water, and we Hoisted it in | Deserted Richard Williams. Brought the Main Top Mast stay | from the Pallas, got the Main Top Mast in. Dutch Carpenters | at work, =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Satarday November 13th. 1779_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fresh Breeze of Wind, and Squally Weather, People employed | about the Main Rigging, and sundry other Jobbs. the Lighter came along | side this Afternoon, and Hoisted in 22 Casks of Water, the Dutch Carpenters | at Work, Received from Amsterdam. 16 Large Dead Eyes | Recd. 1054 lb. Beef | | sent on Board the Countess of Scarbro' 15 pr. of Hand Irons & 15 Pair of | Leg Irons +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday November 14th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Squally Weather with Rain. People employed fixing the Rigging | on the Main Yard, Ratling the Shrouds &c. Lent the Pallas a Ball of SSW | Marling Received from Amsterdam 6 Boxes marked--No. 1 a 6 D N. | Received 547 lb. of Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday November 15th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Cloudy Weather, but Moderate, People employd getting the SSW | Main Top Mast and End, Main and Main Top Sail Yard athwart, | The Boat sent on Shore with the Corpse of one Williams in Order to | Bury him, The Commodore set out for Amsterdam, | | Recd. 450 lb. Beef & 25 Brooms. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday November. 16th..1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fine Weather, People Employed variously some in getting on the Rigging SSE. | on the Main Top Mast, some in getting the Fore Top Gallt. Mast up &c. | &c. Received 18 Casks of Fresh Water, & 548 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday November 17th.. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Pleasant Weather, People employed on various Jobbs. some getting | the Main Top Gallt. up, some Hoisting in Water, &c. Recd. 249 lb. EBS. | Beef 40 lb. Mutton 66 lb. Salt 94 Brooms, Broachd a Barrel of Flour, | Recd. 45 Butts of Water Mustered the People, found 6 Missing, Wm. | Hamilton, Richd. Williams Edwd. Conner, William Woodhead, Hugh | Roney & Robert Jones-- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday November 18th. 1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day the Weather, Squally with Hail, People employd on Sundry | Occasions, Towards Night the Commodore returned from Amsterdam | and gave Orders, that this Ships Barge, & her Masts Oars. Sails &c. &c. | Likewise a Quantity of Provisions. Liquors, Fire Wood, &c. &c. | must be sent on Board the Alliance Immediately, all Hands | employed, untill 12 O Clock. at Night Executing these Orders | Recd. 748 lb. Beef. Recd. from Amsterdam as follows Vizt. | | 10 Bales of Blankets | 13 do. of Hammocks | 1 do. of Stockings | 1 do. of No. 8 | 1 do. of Jackets | 180 Beds EBS | 1 Cag marked D N | 2 Bundles of Hair Breeches | 13 Bags of Bread | 23 Bundles of Spunyarn | 3 Cags of Lambblack | 1 Cag of White Paint | 1 Cag of Red Paint | 1 Hamper No. 70 | 1 Hamper no mark nor number | 2 Cases marked D N | 1 Cag marked D N | 2 Peices of Cordage | 1 small Bale. with a Pair of Scales | and several Weights, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday November 19th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Thick Cloudy Weather, with Rain, People employd in WBS | Hoisting out Sundry Articles on board of Dutch Boats. to send | on Board the Alliance, =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Satarday November 20th..1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- WSW. | Fine Moderate Weather, People Employd as Yesterday +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday November 21st. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day People Employd as Yesterday. most of the Ships Company removed | to the Alliance, as was Likewise the Sick and Wounded, Capt. WBS. | Cottineau came on board the Serapis. and took Possession of her, all | the Officers. Left her and went on Board the Alliance, with. all the | Americans. that belonged to the Late Bon Homme Richard +====================================================================== | Account of Sundry Articles sent from on Board the Serapis.. to the | Alliance the 20th.. 21st, & 22nd of November, as follows. +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | |12 Casks of Rum | 6 Serving Mallets | 2 Boxes | 1 French Province Hall | 1 Ullage Cask do | 5 Marling Spikes |72 Musqt. Cartge do.| Ensign | 1 Pipe of Gin | 3 Bunds. of Marline |30 Belts | 1 Broad American | a Large Quanty of Wood | 2 White Lines | Scabbards & Bayts.| Pendant | 20 Bags of Coal | Main & Mizn. Top | 1 Bundle Fogs | 1 American Ensign | 1 Chest of Medicines | Gallt. Mast | 2 Drums | 1 French Pendant | 2 Coils of 2-1/2 In Rope | 80 Musquetts wth | Time Glasses | 2 Bolts of Canvas | Bayonetts | 2 English Ensigns | 1 Hamper of Medicines | 16 Pair of Pistols | 2 Signal Pendants | 1 Box of Bottled Wine | 60 Cutlasses | 3 Red & White Flags | 1 Jar, with Spirrits of | 4 Hen Coops | 1 do. do. Pendant | Campr. | 1 Engine | 4 English Jacks | 5 Jars of Oyl | 1 Bundle Brushes | 2 Blue&White Flags | 1 Jar part full | 1 do. Brushes & | 1 Checkd Flag | 2 Snatch Blocks | Mops | 1 Blue Signal do. | 2 Sheat Cleats | 63 New Brooms | 1 Checkd Pendt. | 2.3 Square Light Houses | 1 New Cable | 1 Blue&White Flag | Lanthorns | 1 Pair of Cross | 3 Red Pendants | 1 pr. Bellows pr. Armour. | Trees | 1 Red & White do. | 1 Cag of Oyl | 1 Cap Per Main | 1 Yellow--do. | 1/2 Cag Yellow Paint | Mast | 1 Blue---do. | 1/2 Cag Vermillion | 2 Large Arm Chests | 2 White--do. | 1 Cag White Lead | 2 small do. for Tops | 3 Blue & Yellow do. | 1 Cag Lambblack | 1 Large Oak Plank | 1 Blue--do. | a small QuantY. of Red | 2 small Oak Plank | 1 Yellow--do. | Oker | 22 Pole Axes | 1 Broad Dutch. | a Coil of 5-1/2 In Rope | 36 Boardg. Pikes | Pendt. |10 Large Signal Lanthorns | 1 Keg of Flints | 3 Dutch Ensigns |23 small Do. | 3 Boxes Musqt. | 1 Red White Blue | a Laithe | Cartridgs. | & Yellow Flag | a Stove | 2 do. Per Pistols | 1 French Ensign | a Quantity of Wood | a Pair of Handscrews | 4 Dutch Jacks | a Barge with Oars &c. | 1 Jack Box | 2 Dutch Pendts. | |100 pr. Leg Irons | 1 Spanish do | | 2 Bags of do. with | 1 Spanish Jack | | Irons | 1 Do Ensign | | 3 Large Iron Bolts | | | with Shackles | | | 1 Small Binnacle & | | | Lamp & Compass | | | 4 Compasses | A Journall Kept on Board the American Continental Frigate of War, Alliance of 36 Guns, under, the Command of the Honble, John Paul Jones. Commencing in the Road of Texel, in Holland,-- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday November 22nd. 1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Dark Rainy Weather, this Day Cottl, Wybert. came on Board, with a | Number of Prisoners. that had been a shore ever since we came into the | Road, Likewise a Number of Marines. that had been sent on Shore | to Guard them, People employd on sundry Occasions, WBN. | The Remaining Part of the Late Bon Hommes Richard Crew. came on | Board. Except the French Volunteers: which stayed on Board the Serapis | with Capt. Cottineau +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday November 23rd. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day thick Foggy Weather, People employd on Sundry Jobbs. The WSW. | French Maines. that were on board, sent on board the Serapis as were also | a Number of Prisoners. Latter Part Fresh Gales. & thick Weather +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday November 24th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Cloudy Weather. People employd Hoisting in Provisions, and stowing | them away +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday November 25th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Dark Cloudy Weather People Employd in stowing away sundry Articles | in Order to make Room for the Officers of the Late Bon Homme Richard SSW. | the After part of the day settled down the Fore and Main Yards | as the Wind blowd very Flesh and the Weather lookg. very bad =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday November 26th. 1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Heavy Gales of Wind, with Showers of Hail & Rain SSW. | People Employd on Sundry Necessary Jobbs. at 5 A M. Struck Yards | and Top Masts. Continues to Blow hard all Night +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday November 27th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The Weather this Day Moderate, Got the Main Yard down Fore and Aft | The Carpenters employd to reduce it. People Employd in sundry Jobbs +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday November 28th: 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fair Weather People Employd on Sundry Jobbs. the Carpenters as before. | Mr. Blorgett paid the People. 1 Ducat each. as part of Wages, | at 3 P.M. the Carpenters finished the Main Yard, got it Rigged and | athwart, Broachd a Cask of Rum, & 1 Box of Candles +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday November 29th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- SEBE. | AM. Rainy Dirty Weather, bent the Main Sail, Swayed up Yards and | Top Masts. Cleared Hause, and got all ready to get under Sail. PM NNW. | the Wind Shifted, and Blows a Hard Gale, Struck Yards & Top Masts +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday November 30th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | AM. Plenty of Rain, Moderate Breeze of Wind, Swayed up Yards & | Topmts. Cut 12 Fathom off. of a Condemnd Cable for Junk. P.M. | Fine Weather Loosed the Sails to Dry. the Barge went on Shore, with an | Officer, in search of the Cutter, Received 853 lb. Beef. Broachd 1 Cask | of Rum. 2 Boxes of Candles, 1 Sack of Barley the Barge returned, but no | News of the Cutter +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday December 1st. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | AM Fresh Gales and Squally struck Lower Yards. & Top Gallt. Masts, | the Armourer, and a Seaman Died P.M. Clear Weather, People employd | variously Recd. a New Mizen Top Mast and a Rough Spar. for a Top | Sail Yard. | | Broachd 1 Firkin of Butter | 1 Sack of Barley =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday December 2nd. 1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fresh Winds and Plenty of Rain. People employd getting down the Mizen | Top Mast, and getting up a spare Main Top Gallt. Mast. in its Place West | at 4 P.M. Struck Top Masts +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday December 3rd. 1779._ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fresh Gales and Squally People employd variously. Carpenters reducing | the Cross Tack Yard, & Mizen Top Sail Yard, Broachd 2 Bbls. of Beef | 1 Sack of Pease, 1 Pipe of Brandy. 111 Gallons. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday December 4th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | First Part Moderate Breezes, and Plenty of Rain, swayed up Yards and NBE | Top Masts, Parted our Fore Tears At 9 AM. the Wind Hauled Westward | a Fresh Gale, Struck Yards & Top Masts again, Carpenters employed WNW | repairing the Barge, and reducing the Cross Tack Yard. at 10 P.M. | Veered 50 Fathom out of our small Bower Cable, Housed the Guns. Fore | & Aft Broach 2 Barrels of Pork, 1 Tierce of Rum. 1 Firkin of Butter +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday December 5th. 1779._ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- NW. | Fresh Gales and Squally. Hove in the Cable that was veered out last Night | got down Top Gallt. Masts Recd 2181 lb. Beef & 50 Cabbages. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday December 6th: 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | AM. Squally. Fresh Breeze of Wind, People Employed rigging the Mizen | Top Mast, and Cross Tack Yard, a Dutch Boat took all the Prisoners | taken in the Serapis, and carried them on Board the said Ship | PM. Pleasant Weather, Bent the Mizen Top Sail the Boat that | carried away the Prisoners. returned with 100 more taken in the | Merchant Ships. Broachd 1 Pipe of Gin 3 Bbls. of Beef 1 Box of Candles. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday December 7th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | AM Moderate Breezes and Dirty Weather, People employd variously | sent some Casks on Shore for Water, Recd. 1207 lb. Beef 77 lb. Mutton | 400 Loaves of Bread 1218 lb. of Salt--Expended 1 Bbl. of Flour =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Wednesday December 8th: 1779._ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fine Weather Swayed up Yards & Top Masts, unmoord Ship and got | all Clear for going to Sea, PM do. Weather Received Recd. 10 Gang Cask NNE | of Water, &c. 307 Loaves of Bread, in the Evening Moored Ship again | with Starboard Tacks to the Westward, +====================================================================== | _Remarks, on Thursday December 9th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- NW | Dirty Rainy Weather, People Employd in Arranging the Sparrs, on to | the Booms and other Necessary Duty, Carpenters repairing the SW. | Barge. in the Evening Cleared Hause, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday December 10th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | AM. Pleasant Weather, and small Breeze of Wind, unmoord Ship SEBE | and Hove short on the other Cable, expecting to go to Sea, but the ---- | Wind Hauled to the Southward, & the Pilot refused to carry us out SBE | in the Afternoon, Hove up our Anchor, went a little farther to the | Northward, and Moored Ship, Two of our People Died, Recd 1370 lb | of Beef & Mutton 312 lb. Candles Broachd 1/2 Pipe of Brandy +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday December 11th.. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | A M. Hazy Weather, People Employd variously. Recd. on Board NNW. | several Planks, sent the 2 Dead Men on Shore, P. M. Fair | Weather Exercised the Cannon +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday December 12th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Small Breezes of Wind attended with Rain, unbent the Main Top SSW | Sail, and Bent another, Recd. 3 Hhds. of Gin 2 Cask of Sand +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday December 13th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Small Breezes & Rain, Hands Employd, Sundry Jobbs. Sail Makers SW | Enlarging the Fore Top Sail, 4 Men Deserted, Broachd 2 Bbls. of Beef | 1 Bbl. of Flour 1 Box of Candles =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday December 14th: 1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | AM. Fresh Gales, and Squally. Lowerd down the Lower Yards P.M | Hard Gales Veered out. 10 Fathom of our best Bower Cable, soon after | Perceived the Cable to be stranded, Just forward of the Bitts, Ten or WNW | Twelve Fathom from the End, hove it in Cut it off and spliced another | Cable too it. and veered out about 18 fathom of said Cable, and the whole | of the small Bower, both Anchors a Head. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday December 15th.. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | AM. Fresh Breezes and thick Weather, at 7 Got to Work Heaving in | our Cables, a Boat came off with Beef and Bread, sent in her Part | of our Prisoners, to the Serapis P.M. Pleasant Weather, sent the NNW | Remainder of our Prisoners, to the Serapis except some Sick and | Wounded, in the Evening Hove up the small Bower Anchor, and | Moored Ship again | | Recd. 1828 lb. Beef 350 Loaves of Bread Broachd 1 Firkin of Butter +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday December 16th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- SSW | AM Moderate Breezes of Wind, and fair Weather, People variously NNW | employed, Carpenters repairing the Barge, PM Clear Weather | Swayed up Yards & Top Masts, Recd. 12 Gang Cask of Water +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday December 17th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- Westy | AM Pleasant Weather, People variously employd, Recd. 1700 lb. Beef | 950 lb Bread. Broachd 1 Teirce of Rum 1 Pipe of Gin +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday December 18th.. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Moderate Breezes and Rainy Weather, all Hands Employd as | most Necessary. =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday December 19th: 1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Moderate Breezes and thick Weather, AM. Careened Ship, and | Scrubbed her Bottom, the Larboard Side People employd Cleaning Decks WSW | Broachd 1 Box of Candles. Carpenters shutting up the After Hatchway +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday, December 20th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | First Part Fresh Gales, and Dirty Weather, at 5 AM. Lowerd Down the | Fore & Main Yards, at 8 Cleared Hause, the Middle of the Day Clear | Weather Loosed Courses to Dry. People Employd as most necessary | Carpenters as Yesterday in the Evening Squally Roove one New Fire | Geers +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday December 21st. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- WSW | First Part small Breezes. Swayed up the Lower Yards; and began to | unmoor Ship, but before we could accomplish it the Wind Changed to | the Westward, Moored Ship again Loosed, the Sails. P.M. Creened Ship NEBN | and scrubbed her Bottom on the Starboard Side, a Dutch Boat Brought | 13 Cask Gang Water, Handed Sails and Righted Ship, Carpenters employd | Caulking up the After Hatchway, Broachd 1 Teirce of Rum +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday December 22nd. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- ENE | Begins with thick Weather, and Rain--at 4 AM. Got up the Larboard North | Anchor At 8 the Wind came North, fresh Breezes. Lowerd down. the NEBN | Fore and Main Yards. P.M. Fresh Gales from N. to NWBW struck the NWBW | Top Masts Veered out 100 Fathom. of the Starboard Cable, and let go the | Larboard Anchor at 10 Hove a Head, with the Starboard Cable to the | Moorings. Recd. 2108 lb. Beef & 1375 lb. Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday December 23rd. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fair Weather, all Hands variously Employed Broachd one Barrell of WNW. | Beef =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday December 24th. 1779--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- WNW | Fine Pleasant Weather got up Yards & Top Masts at 7 AM. a Dutch | Lighter came along Side with 11 Gang Casks of Water, Hoisted them in | and started them, at 8 Recd, from Amsterdam the following Easty. | Articles Vizt. 7710 lb. Bread | 60 Barrels of Beef | 11 Boxes of Candles | 22 do. of Pork | 10 Casks of Liquor | 8 do. of Flour | 5 Casks of Water | 2 Teirces of Salt | 16 Sacks of Pease | 1 do. Vinegar | 45 lb. Coffee | | 50 lb. Sugar +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday December 25th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Pleasant Weather, unmoored Ship expecting to go to Sea, at 4 P.M. a Easty. | Lighter from Amsterdam, came along side with Water and Wood People | Employd discharging her, Broachd 1 Cask of Brandy +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday December 26th. 1779--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Pleasant Weather, all Hands Employd Clearing the Lighter, and starting | the Water into Casks in the Hold, still Riding by a Single Anchor, | at 5 PM. Finished Discharging the Lighter, sent away in her 26 Bbls. | of Pork that was received from Amsterdam, it being much damaged, "_" | owing to it not being propperly Salted, Just as the Lighter put off | from a Long Side, the Ship struck a Drift. Let go another Anchor, | but could not stop her, before she got fowl of a Dutch Merchant Ship, | that lay to the Eastward of us, Carryd, away her Jibb Boom and Sprit | Sail Yards and damaged us in our Starboard Quarter, at 10 got Clear | of her, and Hove in the Starboard Cable, found that was it cut off | about 8 or 10 Fathom, from the Anchor, Let go the Sheet Anchor, and | brought her up with her two Anchors a Head, close in with the Helder, | Received 1014 lb. Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday December 27th. 1779_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fresh Breeze of Wind at 4 AM. Hove up our small Bower Anchor at 9 "_" | Got a Spring on the Sheet Cable, from our Starboard Quarter to Cant | the Ship, at 10 Cut the Cable, and got under Way. with several Dutch | Men of War, and a Number of Merchantmen, at 11 Got Clear of the Bay | and Hove too for a Boat to take out the Pilot | Recd. 1665 lb. Beef ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================== _H_|_K_|_[HK]_|_Courses_|_Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday 28th. Decemr. 1779_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+-------------------------------------------------------- 1 |10 | | SW | East | These 24 Hours fresh Breezes of Wind & Cloudy 2 | 9 | | | | Weather the Pilot left us. and we Bore away under 2d. 3 | 9 | | | | Reef Top Sails & Fore Sail, At 1 PM. Camper Down 4 | 9 | | | | Bore ENE at 2-1/2 Leag. at 4 P.M. Handd. Miz. Top 5 | | | | | Sail. & Close Reefd, Fore & Main Top Sails, in doing 6 | 8 | 1 | West | EBS | it Split the Fore Top Sail, and got it down to mend, at 7 | 5 | 1 | | | 5 Handd. Main Top Sail, at 6 the Maze Lights Bore, 8 | 5 | 1 | | | South. Distt. 2 Leage. got a New Cable, bent to the 9 | 6 | | | | Remaining Anchor, Broachd 1 Box of Candles At 3 10 | 5 | 1 | | | A.M. Sett Main and Mizen Top Sails got the Fore 11 | 6 | -- | W1/2S | | Top Sail up to Bend, and Let the Reefs out of the 12 | 6 | | | | Main & Mizen Top Sail, Set Stay Sails, and Fore Top 1 | 9 | -- | WSW | East | Mast Steerg Sails. at 9 saw Land on Both Sides of us, 2 | 9 | | | | several Vessels in Sight At 10 Past by Calais in Fore 3 |10 | | | | Top Mast Steerg Sail Bent a Cable to the Stream 4 | 9 | -- | West | | Anchor, At Meridian Calais Clifts bore, SEBS. Distance 5 | 6 | 1 | WSW | ESE | 2 Leagues 6 | 6 | | | | 7 | 7 | 1 | SWBW | | 8 | 7 | | | | 9 | 7 | | | | 10 | 6 | | SSW | | 11 | 6 | | | | 12 | 6 | | WSW | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday 29th. December 1779_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+-------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 7 | | SWBW | EBS | Begins Moderate Breezes & thick Weather, Set Steerg. 2 | 7 | | WSW | | Sails & Driver, at 4 PM. a High Point of Land to the 3 | 5 | 1 | | | Eastward of Bolougne, bore East about 9 Leags 4 | 5 | | | EBN | Diste.---took in the Driver, 5 | 6 | 1 | | | 6 | 5 | | West | | 7 | 3 | 1 | | | 8 | 3 | | | | 9 | 4 | | | | 10 | 5 | | | | 11 | 5 | | WBS | | Saw several Sail of Vessels in the Run of the Night 12 | 5 | | | | At 9 A.M. Saw the Isle of Wight Bearg. NBW 1 | 5 | 1 | | | At 10 do. all Hands to Quarters up all Hammocks 2 | 5 | | | | Exercised the Cannon-- 3 | 5 | | West | | 4 | 3 | 1 | | | 5 | 3 | 1 | | | 6 | 4 | | | | 7 | 4 | | | | 8 | 5 | 1 | WSW | | 9 | 7 | 1 | | | 10 | 7 | | | | 11 | 7 | | | | 12 | 7 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= | _Remarks on Thursday December 30th: 1779--_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 6 | | WSW | SEBE | First part of these 24 Hours, Modte. Breezes and 2 | 6 | | | | Hazy Weather, at 1/2 PM. Cape La Hogue Bore, 3 | 5 | 1 | | | WSW Distt. 5 Leagues At 2 A.M. Squally, took in 4 | 4 | | | | Steering Sails. Set Stays Sails Hauld up as p Log. 5 | 4 | | | | Took in Top Gallt. Sails 6 | 4 | | NWBW | SE | 7 | 6 | | | | 8 | 7 | 1 | | | Latter Part Fresh Breezes & Clear, Weather, at 5 9 | 8 | | | | Reefd Top Sails 10 | 8 | | | | 11 | 9 | | | | 12 | 9 | | | | At Meridian give Chace, to a Ship & a Brig 1 | 9 | | | | 2 | 9 | | WNW | EBS | People Employd Scrubbing their Hammocks, 3 | 9 | | | | Expended 1 Barrell of Pork 4 | 7 | | | | 5 | 9 | | | | 6 | 9 | | | | 7 | 9 | | | | 8 | 9 | | | | 9 |10 | | WSW | East | Lattd. Obsd. 49°. 14" North. 10 |10 | | West | SE | 11 | 9 | | | | 12 | 9 | | WBN | SEBE | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= | _Remarks on Friday December 31st: 1779--_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 7 | | WSW | SEBS | Fresh Breezes and Cloudy at 2 P.M. Spoke with the 2 | 7 | | | | Ship She was a Sweede from Stockholm, at the same time 3 | 7 | -- | WBN | | spoke a Brig from Dantzick, at 1 Spoke a Dutch Galliot 4 | 5 | | | | at 4 Handed Main Sail, at 8 Handed Mizen Top 5 | 9 | | West | | Sail and Hauled up Fore Sail, a Large Sea, Housed all 6 | 9 | | WNW | | Guns 7 | 9 | | | | 8 | 9 | | | | 9 | 9 | | | | 10 | 8 | | | | 11 | 7 | 1 | | | Expended 1 But. 1 Puncheon 12 Gang Casks of Water 12 | 8 | | | | and 1 Barrel of Salt Beef 1 | 7 | 1 | | | 2 | 8 | | | | At 1/2 Past 7 AM. Layed the Main Top Sail Aback 3 | 8 | | | | Sounded 80 Fathom, Gray Sand, and small Shells 4 | 7 | 1 | | | At Meridian Close Reefd Top Sails 5 | 8 | 1 | | | 6 | 8 | | | | 7 | 8 | 1 | | | 8 | 1 | 1 | | | Lattd. Obsd. 49°. 18" North 9 | 1 | | | | 10 | 1 | 1 | | | 11 | 1 | | | | 12 | 1 | 1 | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+===================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday Janry. 1st. 1780--_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+----------------------------------------------------- 1 | 4 | | SWBW | SSE | First Part Fresh Breezes and Cloudy Weather set the 2 | 6 | | | | Courses. Large Sea Got down Top Gallt. Yards. 3 | 4 | 1 | | | 4 | 5 | | | | 5 | 5 | | | | 6 | 5 | | | | 7 | 4 | 1 | | | 8 | 5 | | | | 9 | 4 | 1 | SW | | 10 | 4 | | | | Latter Part moderate 11 | 4 | | | | 12 | 4 | | | | 1 | 4 | | SWBW | SBE | 2 | 3 | | | | Coopers employed Repairing some Provisions, Received 3 | 2 | 1 | | | at the Texel 4 | 2 | | | | 5 | 2 | | WSW | South | 6 | 2 | 1 | | | 7 | 2 | 1 | West | SSW | 8 | 2 | | | | 9 | 1 | 1 | WSW | South | No Observation 10 | 2 | | | | 11 | 2 | | | | 12 | 2 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+===================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday January 2nd. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+----------------------------------------------------- 1 | 1 | 1 | SSW | SE | Small Breezes of Wind & thick Weather, at 3 PM 2 | 1 | 1 | WSW | SSE | saw a Sail Bearing NWBW. Set all Sail in Chace of 3 | 2 | | | | her, got the Main Top Gallt. Yard athwart, at 5 Past 4 | 4 | 1 | | | Just to Windward of her, she standing Eastward 5 | 3 | | NW | | Tackd after her, but it being very dark, could see 6 | 3 | | East | SSE | Nothing of her afterwards, 7 | 4 | | | | Expended 1 Barrell of Beef 2 Butts of Water 8 | 5 | | | | 9 | 4 | 1 | EBN |SEBS | 10 | 4 | 1 | | | 11 | 3 | 1 | | | 12 | 4 | | | | 1 | 5 | | | | At 10 PM. 2 Reefs. Top Sails, Broachd, 1 Butt of 2 | 5 | | East | SSE | Brandy. 1 Pipe of Gin 3 | 5 | | | | 4 | 4 | | | | 5 | 3 | 1 | | | 6 | 1 | 1 | | | 7 | 1 | 1 | EBN | | At 10 A M up Hammocks, Sail Maker, 8 | 2 | 1 | Tackd | | mending the Main & Fore Sails 9 | 3 | | Ship | | 10 | 3 | 1 | WSW | | No Observation 11 | 5 | | | | 12 | 5 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= | _Remarks on Monday Janry. 3rd. 1780--_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 1 | WSW | South | Small Breezes and thick Weather, People variously 2 | 2 | 1 | SWBW | SBE | employd, Expended 2 Butts of Water, 1 Bbl. of Pork, 3 | 2 | 1 | | | 4 | 2 | 1 | | | 5 | 2 | 1 | | | 6 | 2 | 1 | | | 7 | 2 | | SW | SE | 8 | 2 | | | | 9 | 2 | | | | 10 | 2 | 1 | | | 11 | 2 | | | | 12 | 2 | | | | 1 | 3 | 1 | | | 2 | 3 | | | | 3 | 3 | | | | 4 | 4 | 1 | | | 5 | 2 | | | | 6 | 4 | 1 | SBW | SEBE | At 6 A M. Saw a Sail, gave Chace 7 | 4 | | SSW | | At 10 came up with her, sent the Yawl on Board her, 8 | 5 | | WBN | SE | she proved to be a Prussian Galliot bound to Bourdeaux 9 | 7 | | | | 10 | 6 | | North | | 11 | 5 | | | | No Observation, 12 | 5 | | ENE | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= | _Remarks on Teusday Janry. 4th. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 1 | EBN | SEBE | Moderate Breezes and thick Weather, Expended 2 | 5 | | NE | ESE | 2 Butts of Water, 1 Barrel Beef 1 Barrel Pork, 3 | 5 | | | | Broachd 1 Keg of Butter 1 Box of Candles 4 | 5 | | | | 5 | 2 | 1 | | | 6 | 3 | 1 | | | 7 | 3 | 1 | | | 8 | 3 | 1 | | | At 8 P.M. Pleasant Weather, Tackd Ship 9 | 1 | 1 | South | | 10 | 2 | 1 | | | At 12 Thick and Cloudy 11 | 2 | | | | 12 | 3 | | | | At 7 A.M. saw a Galliot to Windward, People 1 | 3 | | | | employed variously, Coopers repairing Provisions 2 | 1 | | | | filled. some of the Empty Water Casks with} 3 | 2 | | | | Salt Water} 4 | 2 | 1 | | | 5 | 2 | | SWBS | SEBS | 6 | 2 | | SSW | SE | 7 | 2 | | | | Lattd. Obsd. 48°. 10" No. 8 | 3 | | SBW | SEBE | 9 | 3 | | South | ESE | 10 | 3 | | SSE | East | 11 | 5 | | | | 12 | 6 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+========================================================= | _Remarks on Wednesday Janry. 5th. 1780._ ---+---+------+---------+-------+--------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 5 | | SBW | SEBE | First part Moderate Breezes & thick Weather, Expended 2 | 3 | 4 | SSW | | 2 Butts of Water, 1 Barrel of Beef Broachd 1 3 | 3 | 4 | ENE | SE | Box Candles At 3 P M Tackd Ship, at 4 saw two Sails 4 | 3 | | | | to Windward At. 8 Tackd again at 10 fresh Gales at 5 | 4 | | | | 12 Close reeft Top Sails at 2 A M. in Mizen Top Sail 6 | 3 | | | | at 6 Saw a Sail a head Let 2 Reefs out of the Top Sails, 7 | 2 | | | | at 9 Saw two Sails to Windward, at 11 came up and 8 | 4 | | | | spoke with the first Sail, she is from Amsterdam 9 | 4 | | SSW | | Bound to Surinam 10 | 6 | | | | 11 | 6 | | | | 12 | 6 | | | | 1 | 4 | | | | 2 | 3 | 4 | | | 3 | 3 | | SBW | | 4 | 4 | 4 | | | 5 | 3 | 4 | SSW | SEBE | 6 | 3 | | SWBS | | At Meridian left her and made Sail after the other 7 | 4 | | | | two 8 | 5 | | | SE | 9 | 7 | | SW | | 10 | 8 | 4 | WSW | | No Observation-- 11 | 8 | 4 | | | 12 | 1 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+========================================================= | _Remarks on Thursday Janry. 6th. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+--------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 9 | | SW | SE | Fresh Breezes and Cloudy Weather, at 1/2 Past 3 P M 2 | 9 | | | | were a Breast of the 2 Ships some Distance to 3 | 9 | | | | Windward, Hoisted English Colours & fired a Gun to 4 | 4 | | | | Leeward, they Hoisted Dutch Colours & fired a Gun to 5 | 5 | | North | | Windward, at 4 Wore Ship. Run as p Logg, at 5 Wore 6 | 6 | | SW | | Ship, again & handed Mizen Top Sail & Main Sail 7 | 5 | | SWBW | | Close Reefd Fore & Main Top Sail, Broachd 2 Bbls. of 8 | 6 | | | | Beef 1 do. of Pork, 1 Box of Candles 3 Butts of Water 9 | 5 | | | | At 7 A M. Saw a Sail a Head, made Sail after her 10 | 7 | | | | at 10 Spoke her, she proved, she proved to be a Ship 11 | 6 | 4 | | | from Amsterdam Bound to Cadiz, at the same time saw 12 | 8 | | | | Ships to Leward, which we took to be the same we saw 1 | 7 | | | | last Night 2 | 6 | | | | At Meridian saw a Cutter to Windward bearing down 3 | 7 | | | | upon us hauled Close to meet her 4 | 6 | | | | 5 | 6 | | | | Lattd. Obsd. 45°. 20" No. 6 | 6 | | | | 7 | 4 | 4 | | | 8 | 7 | 4 | SWBS | | 9 | 6 | 4 | | | 10 | 6 | 4 | WSW. | | 11 | 6 | 4 | | | 12 | 7 | 4 | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+=========================================================== | _Remarks on Friday Janry. 7th. 1780_-- ---+---+------+---------+-------+----------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 8 | 4 | SWBW | SE | First Part Fresh Breezes & thick Weather, at 1 P.M. 2 | 7 | 4 | | | the above Cutter Hauled her Wind, being right a head 3 | 8 | 4 | SWBS | | of us we gaining fast on her, At 3 she Put away before 4 | 8 | | | | the Wind, we set all Sail before the Wind after 5 | 8 | | NW | | her, gain Nothing on her, at 1/2 Past 5 Lost Sight of her, 6 | 8 | | | | Took in Steering Sails Reefd the Top Sails, and 7 | 1 | | SWBS | | Hauled by the Wind the 2 Ships mentioned above, Just 8 | 3 | | | | to Windward of us. at 10 Pleasant Weather, and 9 | 3 | | | | Moderate Breezes, Expended 2-1/2 Butts of Water, at 9 10 | 6 | | | | A M. Saw 3 Sails to Leward. Two of them we Judge, 11 | 6 | | | | to be the two Ships beforementioned the other a Brig, 12 | 7 | | | | at 10 Wore Ship, and stood towards them At Meridian 1 | 7 | | | | Hoisted English Colours, they Hoisted Dutch Colours. 2 | 7 | | | | Hauled our Wind to the Southward 3 | 7 | | | | 4 | 7 | | | | 5 | 5 | 4 | | | 6 | 5 | 4 | | | Lattd. Obsd. 43°. 33" No 7 | 5 | | | | 8 | 5 | | | | 9 | 3 | | | | 10 | 3 | | NNE | EBS. | 11 | 3 | | | | 12 | 3 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+=========================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday Janry. 8th. 1780_-- ---+---+------+---------+-------+----------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 1 | 4 | SSW | SE | Begins small Winds and Pleast. Weather, at 3 P.M. 2 | 1 | 4 | | | Calm Lowerd downs Top Sails, all Hands employd 3 | 1 | | | | setting up Rigging, and fixing Broad Pendants, Expended 4 | | | | | 2-1/2 Butts of Water, Continued Calm till 3 5 | | | | | A M. then Sprung up a small Breeze, at 6 saw four 6 | | | Calm | | Sails to Leward, 3 of them we Judge to be the same 3 7 | | | | | we saw Yesterday, the other a Large Ship standing to 8 | | | | | the Southward, we made Sail after the Brig, at 10 9 | | | | | Came up with her, Hoisted out the Yawl, and sent on 10 | | | | | Board of her, and brought the Master of her on Board, 11 | | | | | he says he is from Liverpool Bound to Leghorn 12 | | | | | 1 | | | | | Lattd: Obsd: 43. 04 No. 2 | | | | | 3 | | | | | 4 | | | | | 5 | 3 | | SSW | | 6 | 1 | | | | 7 | 4 | | | | 8 | 3 | | | | 9 | 4 | | | | 10 | 5 | | WBS | | 11 | 1 | | | | 12 | 1 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+===================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday Janry. 9th. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+----------------------------------------------------- 1 | | | Lying | SE | Moderate Breezes and Pleasant Weather, find the Brig 2 | | | too| | to be English Property, at 7 sent a Prize Master 3 | | | Drift | | and 4 Men on Board, took 4 Men and a Boy out of her, 4 | | | WNW | | made Sail and Steerd as p. Log. The Brig in Company. 5 | | | 1 Mile | | 6 | | | pr. Hour| | 7 | | | | | 8 | 3 | | | | 9 | 3 | 4 | | | 10 | 3 | 4 | | | At 7 A M sent the Boat on Board with the Master of 11 | 3 | 4 | | | the Brig, and one of our People more to go in her, 12 | 3 | 5 | | | One Barrel of Beef and some Candles and Bread. sent 1 | 3 | 5 | | | them for America, 2 | 4 | | | | 3 | 4 | | | | 4 | 4 | | | | 5 | 3 | 4 | | | 6 | 3 | 4 | | | 7 | 3 | 4 | | | Expended 2-1/2 Butts of Water, and 1 Barrel of Beef 8 | 4 | | | | Wt. 250 lb 9 | 4 | | | | Pleasant Weather 10 | 3 | | | | 11 | 3 | 4 | | | Lattd. Obsd. 42. 15 No. 12 | 3 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+===================================================== | _Remarks on Monday, Janry. 10. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+----------------------------------------------------- 1 | 3 | | SEBE | EBN | Fine Pleasant Weather Moderate Breezes of Wind, at 2 | 4 | | | | 3 P M saw a Ship standing to the Northward, at 4 3 | 5 | | | | she Passed us to the Westward, about 1 Leage, and 4 | 4 | | | | Hoisted American Colours, we Hoisted Dutch Colours. 5 | 5 | | SE | ENE | at 5 we Tackd Ship after her, in hopes of coming up 6 | 6 | | | | with her in the Night Expended 2 Butts of Water. 1 7 | 5 | | | | Bbl. of Flour, W. 200 lb. at 6 A M wore Ship saw 8 | 6 | | NBE | EBN | Nothing of the Chace, spoke a Dutch Snow. Bound 9 | 4 | | | | to Amsterdam filled some Empty Casks with Salt 10 | 3 | 4 | North | | Water in the Fore Hold 11 | 4 | | | | 12 | 4 | | | | 1 | 5 | | NBW | NEBE | 2 | 5 | | | | 3 | 5 | | | | 4 | 5 | | SE | | 5 | 4 | | NNW | NE | 6 | 4 | | | | 7 | 4 | | | | 8 | 3 | | EBN | NEBN | Lattd. Obsd. 42°. "33 No. 9 | 3 | 4 | | | 10 |-- | | | | 11 | 4 | | | | 12 | 3 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+========================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday Janry. 11th. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+---------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 3 | | ENE | North | Pleasant Weather, and Moderate Breezes of Wind, 2 | 3 | | | | Expended 2-1/2 Butts of Water, 1 Barrel of Pork, 1 Barrel 3 | 3 | | | | of Beef 4 | 3 | | | | 5 | 3 | 4 | EBN | | 6 | 4 | | | | At 10 P M. in all Stay Sails 7 | 4 | | | | 8 | 5 | 4 | | NBW | 9 | 7 | | | | 10 | 7 | 4 | | | At 12 Fresh Breeze and Squally 11 | 7 | | | | 12 | 7 | 4 | | | At 8 A.M. Saw a Sail a Head, and two on our Lee Bow 1 | 7 | | East | | 2 | 7 | | | NBE | Sett Top Gallt Sails & Staysails 3 | 6 | 4 | | | 4 | 6 | | | | 5 | 6 | | | | 6 | 5 | | | | 7 | 5 | | | | 8 | 5 | | | | 9 | 5 | | | | 10 | 4 | | | North | Lattd: Obsd.. 43. 00 No 11 | 4 | 4 | ENE | | 12 | 4 | 4 | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+========================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday Janry. 12th. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+---------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 1 | 4 | East | NNE | Pleasant Weather, at 3 came up with the Ship that 2 | 1 | 4 | SEBS | | was a head of us sent the Boat on Board of her, 3 | 2 | | | | 4 | | | | | 5 | | | | | At 4 the Boat returned. informed us she is a Dutch 6 | | | | | Ship, from Marseilles Bound to Bourdeaux, Hoisted in 7 | | | | Calm | the Boat Expended 3 Butts of Water, 8 | | | | | 9 | | | | | 10 | | | | | At 12 small Breezes of Wind, at 1 in Top Gallt. Sails 11 | | | | | at 4 in Stay Sails, at 8 Thick Weather, and Moderate 12 | 2 | 4 | EBN | SBE | Breezes of Wind, Saw 3 Sail on the Weather 1 | 5 | | | | Bow. and. 2 to Leward steering Northward, we Kept 2 | 4 | 5 | | | close to the Wind in Order to speak to a Ship to the 3 | 5 | | | | Windward, at Meridian we Hoisted English Colours. 4 | 5 | | | | and fired a Gun, they showd Portuguese, and backd 5 | 5 | | BS | | thier Top Sails. got a Boat out and sent an officer on 6 | 5 | | | | board of her, Returned soon after with an officer of 7 | 6 | | | | the Ship 8 | 6 | | | | No Observation 9 | 7 | | | | 10 | 7 | | | | 11 | 8 | | | | 12 | 8 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday Janry. 13th. 1780_ ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | | | Lay wth | | Begins fresh Breezes of Wind and Cloudy Weather, 2 | | | Main | | find the abovementioned Ship is from Portugal bound to 3 | | | Top Sail| | Cork. at 5 P M took the People out of her, who were 4 | | | aback | | all Portuguese, and put 3 officers and 8 Men on 5 | | | Drift | | board of her, at 8 the Master and Mate put on Board 6 | | | ENE 1 | SBW | of her, Hoisted in Our Boat and Wore Ship 7 | | | Mile pr.| | the other Ship likewise Wore, and stood to the Westward 8 | | | Hour | | in Company with us Expended 2-1/2 Butts of Water 9 | 2 | | WBS | | 1. Barrel of Beef. 1 Firkin of Butter, Close Reefd 10 | 2 | | | | Top Sails Handd the Main Sail Fresh Gales attended 11 | 2 | | | | wth. Rain at 11 handd the Main Top Sail a large 12 | 2 | | WNW | | Sea, lost Sight of the Ship. at 12 handd. Mizen 1 | 2 | | | | Top Sail at 4 A M Moderate Breezes Set the Main 2 | 3 | | | | Top Sail at 1/2 Past 7. saw the Ship to Leward, bore 3 | 4 | | | | away. and ran down to her, they Informed us they 4 | 3 | | | | had Carried away thier Fore Yard, and that the Ship 5 | 2 | 4 | | | was Leaky, got out a Boat and sent a Sail Maker on 6 | 2 | 4 | | | Board. to mend her Fore Sail 7 | 2 | | | | 8 | 4 | | NEBN | | 9 | 3 | | WBN | | 10 | 1 | | | | Lattd: Obsd. 43. 50 North 11 | 1 | | | | 12 | 1 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================== | _Remarks on Friday Janry. 14th. 1780_ ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | | | | | Begins Calm and Pleasant Weather, sent 4 Barrels of 2 | | | Calm | | Provisions on Board the Portuguese Ship, and got 3 | | | | | ready 400 Gallons of Water, at 2 PM. the Portuguese 4 | | | | | sent on Board. of thier Ship. and our People come out 5 | | | | | of her, Brought the Provisions aboard again, gave 6 | | | | | them a Fore Yard, and left them. 7 | | | | | 8 | | | | | 9 | | | | | 10 | | | | | 11 | | | | | At 6 PM. some Squalls of Rain at 9 Pleast. Weather 12 | | | | | Expended 3 Butts of Water. 1 Barrel of Pork, 1 Bbl. 1 | | | | | of Flour 2 | 1 | 4 | SEBE | West | 3 | 1 | 4 | | SW | At 1 A M. Light Airs of Wind. Let the Reefs out of 4 | 2 | | | | the Top Sails and sett Top Gallt. Sails at 8 a 5 | 3 | | | | fine Breeze of Wind, Sett Top Mast Steering Sails 6 | 4 | | | | 7 | 5 | 4 | | | 8 | 5 | 4 | | | People Employed Cleaning between Decks at Meridian 9 | 5 | 4 | | | =in= Fresh Breezes in Steering Sails 10 | 5 | | | | 11 | 6 | | | | 12 | 6 | 4 | | | Lattd. Obsd. 43°. 49" No. ===+===+======+=========+=======+============================================================= | _Remarks on Satarday Janry. 15: 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 8 | | SE | SW | Fresh Breezes and thick Weather, at 5 P M. Spoke a 2 | 8 | | SEBS | | Dutch Ship from Amsterdam. bound to Lisbon Handed 3 | 8 | | | | the Main Sail at 1/2 Past 9 Saw the Land bearing SBE. 4 | 7 | | | | Distance 1 Leage. Wore Ship and stood off. Took in 5 | 6 | | | | 2 Reefs of our Top Sails Expended 3 Butts of Water. 6 | 3 | | | | 1 Butt of Brandy. 1 Bbl. of Beef 7 | 3 | | | | 8 | 6 | | | | 9 | 7 | | | | 10 | 7 | | NWBW | | At 4 AM. Wore Ship Handd. Fore & Mizen Top 11 | 4 | | | | Sails, Fresh Gales and small Rain at 9 A M Wore 12 | 5 | | | | Ship to the Northward 1 | 5 | | | | Saw the Land Bearing SEBS. Distt. about 5 Mile 2 | 5 | | | | Wore Ship again and stood in for the Land. for a little 3 | 3 | | | | but the Weather, setting in Thick, lost Sight of it. 4 | 4 | | | | Wore Ship again Bent the Main Stay Sail. Fresh Gales 5 | 3 | 4 | SBE | SWBW | and Dirty Weather, 6 | 3 | 4 | | | 7 | 3 | 4 | | | 8 | 3 | 4 | | | 9 | 3 | | | | 10 | 3 | | NWBW | | 11 | 3 | | SE | | 12 | 3 | | NWBW | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+============================================================= | _Remarks on Sunday Janry. 16th. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | | NWBW | SW | Begins Fresh Gales and Dirty Weather, we under Fore 2 | 2 | | | | Sail and Close Reefd Top Sails & Mizen Stay Sail. at 4 3 | 2 | | | | PM. Reefd the Fore Sail, and sett the Main Sail, and 4 | 2 | | | | Handed the Main Top Sail, Launch Top Gallt Masts. 5 | 2 | | | | at 10 more Moderate a Large Sea, at 4 A M. Wore 6 | 2 | | NWBN | SWBW | Ship, sett the Top Sails, at 6 AM Saw a Ship to Leward, 7 | 1 | 4 | | | Run down to her, and shewd English Colours. she 8 | 1 | 4 | | | shewd Dutch. Hauled our Wind and sett Stay Sails, 9 | 1 | 4 | | | and let one Reef out of the Top Sails Swayed up the 10 | 1 | 5 | | | Top Gallt. Masts 11 | 1 | 4 | | | 12 | 1 | 5 | | | 1 | 1 | 4 | | | 2 | 1 | 4 | NBW | WBN | 3 | 1 | 4 | | | 4 | 1 | 4 | | | 5 | 1 | 4 | SBW | | West Expended 2 Bbls. of Beef 1 Bbl. of Flour, 1 Box of 6 | 1 | 4 | | | Candles. 1 Firkin of Butter 7 | 2 | | | | 8 | 3 | | South | WBN | 9 | 3 | 4 | | | Lattd: Obsd. 43. 32 No 10 | 6 | | | | 11 | 7 | | | | 12 | 7 | | | | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday January 17th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins fresh Breezes and Squally, at 1 P.M saw the Land near Ferrol | at 4 came to an Anchor in the Harbour of Corrunna, At 7 let go our | Stream Anchors, at 8 A M a Spanish Boat with a Number of Gentlemen | came on Board, Hoisted out the Barge, and the Captain went on West | Shore, People Employed getting the Fore Yard, Fore and Aft in Order | to reduce it, the Sail Maker Employd, Repairing the Sails, Ends | Fresh Breeze of Wind, Expended 1 Barrel of Pork. 2 Bbls. of Flour, | 1 Barrel of Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday January 18th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- WBS | Fresh Breezes of Wind attended with Rain in Squalls P M. People | variously employed, A M. ditto Weather, spread the steering Sails, WSW | and other Light Sails to Dry. broke up the Upper Tier of Water Casks, | and sent 20 a shore in a Spanish Boat. unbent Fore and Main Top | Sails, Carpenters reducing the Main Yard, an Inch in the Slings, and | 6 Feet from the Length, Received 606 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday January 19th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fresh Breezes of Wind and Clear Weather, People variously employd WNW | AM. Ditto Winds attended with Plenty of Rain, all the People | refused doing Duty, untill they got some Part of the Money due them | Recd 597 lb. Beef and some Vegetables +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday January 20th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Small Breezes of Wind, and Plenty of Rain. the People were | satisfyd by the Captain, so as to appear chearfully to Duty AM | Pleasant Weather, Careened Ship in Order to scrub her Bottom | At Meridian a Boat came off with an Anchor, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday January 21st. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- WNW | PM. Pleasant Weather, People Employd scrubbing the Ships Bottom & | Blacking the Bends AM. Fresh Breezes and Plenty of Rain. Careened | the other Side and Scrubbed it. got down the Fore Top Sail Yard, and North | hove up the small Bower Anchor in Order to lay it farther to the | Southward | | Recd. 578 lb. Beef Broachd 1 Box of Candles | 300 Bread =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Satarday January 22nd. 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM small Breezes of Wind attended with Rain, Moored Ship a Boat came | a long side, with 20 Water Casks, A M. Pleasant Weather Hoisted in West. | the Water came off last Night got the Fore Top Sail Yard athwart, | and did other Necessary Duty Recd. 441 lb. Beef 300 lb Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday January 23rd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant Weather, People variously employed AM. Ditto Weather, WNW | Nothing Done, a Number of People on Shore on Liberty Recd. 322 lb. | Beef 600 lb. Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday January 24th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant Weather, Received 13 Cask of Fresh Water, A. M. Ditto | Weather. People variously employed, Recd. 593 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday January 25th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fresh Breezes of Wind and some Rain, Employed setting up the EBS | Rigging, Staying the Masts. got the Fore Yard athwart | AM. Employed the Rigging Received 600 lb. Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday January 26th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | P.M. Light Airs Clear Weather, People Employed setting up the Rigging SW | Paying the Bends, and other Necessary Jobbs. Recd. 950 lb. | Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday January 27th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Light Airs of Wind, Pleasant Weather, Received an Anchor, sent | another on shore being too light A M. Bent the Fore Sail, and | unmoored Ship, and sundry other Jobbs. Recd. 600 lb. Bread & Vegetables | Broachd 1 Pipe of Gin 1 Keg of Butter, the Boatswain Confined | to his Cabbin ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= _H_|_K_|_[HK]_|_Courses_|_Winds_| _Remarks on Friday Janry. 28th. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | | | | | Begins Moderate Breezes and Clear Weather, from the 2 | | | | | Southward, the Governor, came on board with a Number 3 | | | | | of Gentlemen to view the Ship Fired a Salute of 13 4 | | | | | Guns at 6 A M. sent the Boat on Shore, for the People, 5 | | | | | People employd Heaving Short. and Clearing Decks, at 6 | | | steered | | 10 P.M. Fired a Gun, and Hoisted a Signal for the 7 | | | out | | Boats to come off at 12 PM got under way went out 8 | | | North | SSE | with the French Frigate. La Sensible Bound to Brest 9 | | | | | we Bound on a Cruize, 10 | | | | | 11 | | | | | 12 | | | | | 1 | | | | | 2 | | | | | 3 | | | At 4 PM | | At 2 PM Saw a Sail to Leward, gave Chace came up 4 | | | Hauld | | with her, At 4 Boarded her, she proved to be a Dutch 5 | | | ENE | | Snow. from Amsterdam to Lisbon, Latter Part Clear 6 | | | | | Weather, and Fresh Breezes. 7 | | | | | 8 | | | | | 9 | | | | | Lost Sight of the French Frigate 10 | | | | | 11 | | | | | 12 | | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= | _Remarks on Satarday Janry. 29th: 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | | | | | Begins Moderate Breezes and Clear Weather 2 | | | | | 3 | | | | | 4 | 4 | 4 | ENE | South | 5 | 4 | 4 | | | 6 | 4 | 4 | | | 7 | 4 | 4 | NEBE | | 8 | 5 | | NE | | 9 | 6 | | | | 10 | 2 | | NEBE | | 11 | 2 | | | | At 4 AM Wore Ship to the Westward. at 1/2 Past 6 12 | 2 | | | | saw the Land Bearing SBW. about 7 Leags. Distt. 1 | 2 | | EBN | | 2 | 2 | | | SSE | 3 | 2 | | ENE | | 4 | 2 | | WBS | | 5 | 2 | | WNW | | 6 | 2 | | WBN | SWBS | 7 | 2 | | | | No Observation this day 8 | 2 | | | | 9 | 1 | 4 | | | 10 | 1 | 4 | | | 11 | 1 | 4 | | | 12 | 1 | 4 | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+====================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday Janry 30th. 1780--_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------ 1 | 3 | | SSW | NEBE | Begins fresh Gales and Squally, Employd Clearing the 2 | 3 | | | | Lumber from between Decks. & stowing it away in the 3 | 3 | | | | Hold Sundry other Jobbs, at 5 PM. Hauled up Main 4 | 3 | | | | Sail, and Wore Ship to the Northward, took in 2 Reefs 5 | 5 | | | | of the Top Sails Fresh Gales and Squally with Rain 6 | 6 | | | | 7 | 5 | | NWBN | NNE | 8 | 4 | | | | 9 | 4 | | | | At 6 Close Reefd Fore & Main Top Sails, & Handd. 10 | 4 | | | | the Mizen Top Sail, Struck Top Gallt. Yards. & 11 | 3 | | | | Handd. the Main Sail 12 | 3 | | | | 1 | 3 | | WNW | NBE | 2 | 3 | | | | Expended 2 Barrels of Beef 1 Barrel of Pork 3 | 3 | | | | At 12 P.M. Fresh Gales and thick Weather, 4 | 3 | | | | 5 | 2 | | NWBW | | At 4 AM. Ditto Weather, 6 | 2 | | | | 7 | 2 | | | | At 8 AM Moderate Breezes & Hazy with Rain 8 | 2 | 4 | WNW | | 9 | 2 | 4 | | | At 9 Saw a Sail Let the Reefs out of the Top Sails 10 | 2 | 4 | | | a large Swell from the Eastward 11 | 2 | 4 | | | 12 | 2 | 4 | | | Lattd. Obsd. 44°. 19" North. ===+===+======+=========+=======+====================================================== | _Remarks on Monday Janry 31st. 1780--_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------ 1 | 2 | | SBE | SWBW | Begins Fresh Gales and Squally. with Rain from the 2 | 2 | 4 | | | Eastd. 3 | 6 | | | | At 7 PM. Splitt the Fore Top Sail 4 | 7 | 4 | | | 5 | 7 | 4 | | | At 8 Handed it; Handed Main & Mizen Top Sail 6 | 7 | 4 | NBW | WBS | 7 | 6 | | | | 8 | 6 | | | | At 10 Do. Weather Blows very Hard, 9 | 4 | | | | 10 | 4 | | | | 11 | 5 | | | | At 12 Do. Weather.-- 12 | 5 | | | | Expended 2 Bbls. of Beef 1 Bbl. of Pork, 1 Bbl. Flour 1 | 6 | | NWBN | | 1 Box of Candles, 2 | 5 | 4 | | | 3 | 6 | | | | At 4 AM Moderate Breezes & a Large Sea unbent the 4 | 4 | 4 | | | Fore Top Sail 5 | 4 | | | | 6 | 4 | | | | 7 | 2 | 4 | | | At 8 made Sail Moderate Breezes and Clear Weather 8 | 2 | 4 | | | 9 | 2 | 4 | SWBW | SBE | 10 | 2 | 4 | | | Lattd. Obsd. 44° .. 31" North 11 | 2 | 4 | SW | SSE | 12 | 2 | 4 | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+==================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday Febry. 1st. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+---------------------------------------------------- 1 | 1 | 4 | NWBW | BEBE | Begins Light Winds & Clear Weather, People Employd 2 | 1 | 4 | | | cleaning the between Decks, and Scrubbing 3 | 1 | 4 | | | Hammocks & other Necessary Jobbs 4 | 2 | 4 | | | 5 | 2 | | | | 6 | 3 | 4 | | | 7 | 3 | | NNW | EBS | 8 | 4 | 4 | | | Expended 1 Barrel of Beef 9 | 4 | 4 | | | 10 | 3 | 4 | | | 11 | 3 | 4 | | | At 8 Light Winds & Clear Weather, 12 | 3 | 4 | | | 1 | 4 | | North | | 2 | 4 | | | | 3 | 4 | 4 | | | At 9 Squally with Rain, at 10 Handd. Mizn. Top Sail 4 | 4 | 4 | | | 5 | 4 | | | | At 11 Set the Mizen Top Sail again 6 | 3 | 4 | | | 7 | 4 | | | | 8 | 4 | | NWBW | NEBE | 9 | 4 | | 1/2W | 1/2E | 10 | 3 | | NW | NNE | 11 | 2 | | | | No Observation 12 | 2 | | NWBW | NEBN | ===+===+======+=========+=======+==================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday Febry. 2 nd. 1780--_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+---------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | | NWBW | NEBN | Begins Moderate Breezes. and Squally with Rain. 2 | 1 | 4 | | | People variously employed about the Ship 3 | 4 | 4 | | | 4 | 3 | | | | 5 | 2 | | | | At 4 PM Ditto Winds, with Showers of Rain 6 | 4 | 4 | | | At 6 do. Weather 7 | 3 | | | | 8 | 4 | 4 | North | ENE | At 8 Sprung up a Breeze from the Eastwd. 9 | 4 | | NBE | EBN | 10 | 4 | | | | At 10 Fresh Gales and Cloudy 11 | 4 | | | | Expended 1 Bbl. of Flour, Broachd 1 Pipe of Gin & 12 | 4 | 4 | | | 1 Cask of Beans 1 | 4 | | | | At 6 A M. Saw a Sail on the Quarter Wore Ship and 2 | 4 | | | | gave Chace, Sett the Main Sail Mizzen Top Sail & 3 | 4 | | | | Jibb 4 | 4 | | | | 5 | 4 | | | | At 9 AM. came up and spoke her, she proved to be a 6 | 4 | | SSE | | Letter of Marque, Ship from Virginia. Bound to 7 | 6 | | | | Bourdeaux, out 33 Days. John Gale Commander, 8 | 7 | | | | 9 | 8 | | | | 10 | 8 | | NBE | | Lattd: Obsd. 45°. 46" North 11 | 3 | | | | 12 | 3 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= | _Remarks on Thursday Febry. 3rd. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | | NNW | NE | Begins Fresh Breezes and Squally, at 1 P.M made a 2 | 1 | 4 | | | Sail on our Larboard Quarter, Wore Ship gave Chace, 3 | 4 | 4 | West | | Out all Reefs, Set Steering Sails got Top Gallt. 4 | 3 | | NW | | Yards athwart set Top Gallt. Sails, at 5 P M gave 5 | 2 | | SSE | | over Chace, Wore Ship to the Eastward, Reefd the 6 | 4 | 4 | | | Top Sails Light Winds & Squally 7 | 2 | 4 | | | 8 | 3 | 4 | | | 9 | 3 | | | | 10 | 3 | | SBE | EBN | 11 | 3 | 4 | | | 12 | 3 | | | | Expended 1 Barrel of Beef 1 | 3 | | | | 2 | 2 | | | | Departed this Life Benjn. Powers Master at Arms 3 | 1 | 4 | | | At 4 A M. Light Winds & Clear Weather, the Ship in 4 | 1 | 4 | | | Sight 5 | 4 | | | | 6 | 3 | | ENE | EBS | At 6 A M. Tacked Ship to the Southward 7 | 3 | | | | At 8 Small Winds & Pleasant Weather, 8 | 3 | | East | SE | 9 | 2 | | SSE | | At 10 Backd. Main & Miz Top Sail Hauled down 10 | 1 | 4 | EBN | SEBS | Jibb & Main Top Mast Stay Sail, Hoisted out the 11 | 1 | 4 | | | Yawl went on Board the Ship in Company 12 | 2 | 4 | | | Lattd: Obsd. 45°. 15" North ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= | _Remarks on Friday Febry. 4th. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 3 | | East | EBS | Begins Fresh Gales & thick Weather, from the Southward 2 | 3 | 4 | SSE | | 3 | 4 | | SBE | | At 4 PM. Fresh Gales & Squally with Rain, at 5 PM 4 | 4 | | | | sent the Yawl on Board the Ship in Company, with her 5 | 4 | | | | Captain and a Passenger, 6 | 4 | | | | 7 | 6 | | | | 8 | 6 | | | | At 6 Fresh Gales & thick Weather, 9 | 8 | | | | 10 | 8 | | | | At 8 Fresh Gales and Squally 11 | 8 | | | | At 9 Handed down the Main Top Sail Struck Top 12 | 8 | | | | Gallt Yards, Hauled up the Mizen down Stay Sails 1 | 7 | 4 | | | Fore and Aft, 2 | 6 | 4 | | | 3 | 6 | 4 | ENE | SE | 4 | 6 | 4 | | | 5 | 5 | 4 | | | Expended 2 Bbls. of Pork, Broachd 1 Box of Candles 6 | 5 | 4 | | | 7 | 5 | | | | At 4 A M. Fresh Gales and a Large Sea 8 | 5 | | | | Broachd 2 Barrels of Beef 9 | 4 | | EBN. |SEBS | 10 | 4 | | ESE | | 11 | 4 | | | | No Observation 12 | 4 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+========================================================== | | _Remarks on Satarday Febry. 5th. 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+---------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | | East |SSW | Begins Moderate Breezes & a Large Sea, wth Rain, 2 | 1 | | | | saw a Ship to the Westward, Tackd Ship and gave 3 | 5 | | | | Chace at 4 PM Spoke to her she was from Stockholm 4 | 5 | | SE |NW | Bound to Lisbon. at 4 P M Wore Ship and stood to 5 | 5 | | | | the ENE.. Expended 2 Barrels of Beef 6 | 3 | | ENE |SW | 7 | 3 | | | | 8 | 5 | | | | 9 | 5 | | | | 10 | 7 | | | | At 10 Reeft Top Sails and Sett Main Stay Sail 11 | 8 | | | | Retook a small French Bark, that had been taken by 12 | 8 | | | | a Geurnsey Privateer, Laden with Wine from Bourdeaux, 1 | 8 | | | | sent a Midshipman, and 3 Hands on Board, 2 | 9 | | | | her, and took her in Tow. 3 | 8 | | | | 4 | 7 | | | | 5 | 6 | | | | At Meridian found her to be very Weak & Leaky to 6 | 6 | | | | Bear Towing, we Halled by the Wind, and Layd our 7 | 6 | | | | Top Sails a back, in Order to take the Men out of the 8 | 6 | | | | Prize-- 9 | 6 | | | | 10 | 4 | | | | 11 | 4 | | | | 12 | 4 | | | | Lattd. Obsd. 47°..16" North ===+===+======+=========+=======+========================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday Febry. 6th. 1780--_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+---------------------------------------------------------- 1 | | | | | Begins with thick Weather, & fresh Breezes, Cut away 2 | | |Laying | | the Masts of the Prize, and got her a long Side, 3 | | |too | | took out of her, her Main & Fore Sail, & Fore Top 4 | | | | | Sail a small Hauser, & 11 Casks of Wine, before we 5 | 4 | |SEBE | WNW | could get anything more, she Sunk, served the Ships 6 | 4 | | | | Company, 1 Cask, of Wine, at 12 PM. Do. Weather 7 | 4 | 4 | | | at 4 PM. Do. Weather, made Sail, and Immediately 8 | 8 | | | | After saw a Fleet, to Leeward. Hauled our Wind and 9 | 8 | | | | made Sail from them, a Large Sea with Fresh Gales at 10 | 8 | 10 | | | Wore Ship and stood towards the Fleet at 1/2 Past 11 11 | 8 | 4 | | | Carryd away. the Larboard Main Top Sail Sheet, took 12 | 8 | | | | in the Top Sails 1 | 7 | | | | 2 | 6 | | | | 3 | 6 | | | | 4 | 6 | | | | 5 |10 | | | | 6 | 9 | | | | 7 | 8 | | NBE | | 8 | 6 | | | | 9 | 6 | | | | Broachd 1 Barrel of Beef 2 Bbls. of Pork, 1 Bbl. of 10 | 4 | | | | Flour, 1 Butt of Water 11 | 4 | | SBE | | 12 | 4 | | | | Lattd. Obsd: 47°. 46" N ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= | _Remarks on Monday Febry. 7: 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | | ENE | WBN | Begins Fresh Gales and Squally with a Large Sea, we 2 | 2 | | | | in Chace of the Fleet under our Fore Sail Main and 3 | 3 | | | | Mizen Stay Sails, at 2 PM. Wore Ship to the Northward, 4 | 3 | | | | Three Ships out of the Fleet standing towards 5 | 4 | | | | us, Hove out a Signal to the Livingston the Ship in 6 | 4 | | | | Company to follow us At 4 Lost Sight of the Fleet. 7 | 3 | 4 | | | got down Top Gallt. Yards. 8 | 4 | | SBE | | 9 | 4 | 4 | | | 10 | 5 | | | | 11 | 5 | | | | At 6 the Weather more Moderate, bore away under 12 | 5 | | | | our Fore Sail, at 12 PM. Sounded and got Bottom 85 1 | 4 | 4 | | | fathom Gray Sand, at 4 PM. Sounded the same Depth 2 | 2 | 5 | | | of Water, at 6 Moderate thick Weather, Spoke the 3 | 5 | | | | Livingston desired them to make Sail got up Top Gallt. 4 | 5 | | | | Yards. sett Top Gallt. Sails 5 | 5 | | | | 6 | 5 | | | | 7 | 5 | | | | 8 | 5 | 4 | | | 9 | 5 | 4 | ENE | | Broachd 1 Bbl. of Beef 1 Cask of Wine 10 | 5 | | | NW. | No Observation 11 | 6 | | NE | | 12 | 6 | | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+======================================================= | _Remarks on Teusday Febry. 8: 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 4 | 4 | ENE | SW | Begins Moderate Breezes thick & Hazy Weather, at 1 2 | 4 | 4 | | | PM saw the Land bearing from NE to E. which we 3 | 4 | | | | Judge to be the Penmark, At 5. we were within 1 4 | 4 | | | | League of the Rocks, WBN from thence, we Halled by 5 | 3 | | | | the Wind, to the Southd. Sounded 45 fathom Water, 6 | 3 | | South | WSW | fine Gray Sand, our Consort in Sight, at 9 Sounded 7 | 3 | | | | 50 fathom, at 10 same Depth Muddy Bottom, Thick 8 | 3 | | SBE | | Weather, attended with Rain at 11 Tackd At 6 AM. 9 | 3 | | | | Wore Ship to the Southd. Sounded 60 Fathom of 10 | 2 | | SSE | SW | Water, fine Gray Sand, Do. Weather, at 9 Sett Main 11 | 2 | | | | Sail & Main Top Mast Stay Sail & Jibb Discovered 12 | 2 | 4 | West | SSW | the =Land= Head to be Loose 1 | 2 | 4 | | | Broachd 1 Bbl. of Pork 2 | 2 | 4 | WBN | | 1 Box of Candles 3 | 3 | | | | 1 Cask of Wine 4 | 3 | | | | 5 | 2 | | | | 6 | 2 | | WNW | SWBS | 7 | 2 | | South | SW | 8 | 2 | | | WSW | No Observation 9 | 5 | 4 | | | 10 | 5 | 4 | | | 11 | 5 | 4 | | | 12 | 5 | 4 | | | ===+===+======+=========+=======+=================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday Febry. 9th: 1780_ ---+---+------+---------+-------+--------------------------------------------------- 1 | 3 | | SBW | WBS | Begins Moderate Breezes and Rain Sounded 63 2 | 3 | | | | Fathom Water, fine Sand, at 6 PM. Close Reefd the 3 | 3 | | | | Top Sails 4 | 2 | 4 | SSW | West. | 5 | 3 | | | | 6 | 3 | 4 | | | 7 | 3 | | | | Expended 1 Bbl. of Pork. 1 Cask of Wine 8 | 3 | | SBW | | 9 | 3 | 4 | | | Broachd 2 Bbls. of Beef 1 Box of Candles 10 | 3 | 4 | | | 11 | 3 | 4 | | | At 10 Sounded 65 Fathom Water, 12 | 3 | 4 | | | At 1 AM. Wore Ship, at 5 Out Reefs, at 6 spoke a 1 | 4 | | | | Dutch Galliott Bound to Brest she informed us 2 | 4 | | ESE | | Belslile Bore NNE Distance 8 Leagues 3 | 4 | | | | 4 | 4 | 4 | | | 5 | 5 | 4 | | | 6 | 5 | | | | At 11 Belslile a Head fine Pleasant Weather, the 7 | 5 | | | | Livingston in Company 8 | 5 | | NNE | | 9 | 4 | | | | 10 | 4 | | | | 11 | 3 | | | | Lattd. Obsd. 46°. 39" No 12 | 3 | | NW | SWBW | ===+===+======+=========+=======+=================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday Febry. 10th: 1780_-- ---+---+------+---------+-------+--------------------------------------------------- 1 | 1 | 4 | NNW | West | Pleasant Weather, and Light Airs of Wind, Belslile 2 | 1 | | | | still in Sight Sounded 50 Fathom Water, Gravell 3 | 1 | | | | Stones Expended 2 Bbls. of Beef. At 6 PM. Belslile 4 | 1 | | | | North End bore NEBN about 3 Leagues Distance, At 5 | 2 | | | | 7 Sounded 45 Fathom Water with Sand, Hauled up our 6 | 2 | | NW | SBW | Courses, took in Top Gallt. Sails and settled the 7 | 2 | 4 | | | Top Sails At 4 AM. Lay too 8 | 2 | 4 | | | 9 | 2 | 4 | | | 10 | 2 | | | | 11 | 1 | 4 | | | 12 | 1 | 4 | | | At 6 made Sail and stood in for the Land, 1 | 2 | | North | | 2 | 2 | | | | At 8 Saw the Isle of Groa bearing EBS. 3 | 2 | | | | 4 | 2 | | | | At Meridian Close in with Groa, 5 | | | | | 6 | | | | | Expended 2 Bbls. of Beef 7 | 5 | | NEBE | | Broachd 1 Bbl. of Flour 8 | 5 | | | | 1 Pipe of Gin 9 | | | | | Recd. 325 lb. Fresh Beef 10 | | | | | 11 | | | | | 12 | | | | | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday Febry. 11th: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Pleasant Weather, at 3 PM came to an Anchor, within the Isle of | Groa with our Larboard Anchor, the Purser went to L'Orient, at 8 ESE | Returnd with Beef. the Livingston likewise came too an Anchor, | Broachd 1 Bbl. of Flour | 1 Cask of Gin | A.M. Employed Cleaning the Ship several Gentlemen on Board from | L'Ort. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday Febry. 12th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fresh Breezes and Pleasant Weather, till Evening, the Captain went | to L'Orient, the Boat returned, with 729 lb Beef & 50 lb. Bread, "--" | thick Weather all Night in the Morning Pleasant Weather, People | Employd making Points & Gasketts. Knolling Yarns for Spun Yarn. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday Febry. 13th. 1780--_ | --------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fair, But very Cold Weather, People Employd as before, | Recd. 717 lb. Beef Broachd 1 Cask of Butter. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday Febry. 14th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fair and Cold Weather, PM. People variously employed, A M People | Employed, making Points and Gasketts, sent 2 Casks to L'Orient | for Water | | Broachd 1 Box of Candles. 1 Cask of Wine, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday Febry. 15th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair and Cold Weather, People Employd, making Points and Spun | Yarn. at 5 OClock got down Top Gallt. Yards, Broachd 2 Bbls. of EBS. | Pork, 1 of them destroyd by the Ratts | AM. Do. Weather, People Employd as above, the Boat went to L'Orient | with some of the Sick, Recd. 700 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday Febry. 16th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, Moderate Breezes of Wind, People Employd making | Points and Spun Yarn. A.M. Do. Weather, Employed washing the Ship | Fore and Aft. Received 300 lb. Bread-- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday 17th. February 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Cold Weather Moderate Breezes of Wind, Received from L'Orient | 1 Anchor, Wt. 3200 lb. with Orders from Capt. Jones to get an Anchor East | left by the Serapis, In the Evening do. Weather, the People | Employed about the Serapis Anchor, Scrubbing their Hammocks and | other Necessary Jobbs +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday 18th. February 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fresh Breezes and Fair Weather, got up the Anchor, but could | not get up the Cable, without the Ships getting under way, went | to the Anchor got it to the Bow, and got in the Cable about 50 | fathom A M Do. Weather, Light Airs of Wind, Hove up our Anchor, | and got under Sail in Order, to get nearer the Port of L.'Orient | At Meridian Calm let go our Anchor again +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday 19th. February 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant Weather, at 1 OClock sprung up a small Breeze got | under Sail, and run into the Harbour, Moored the Ship to the NW. | Kings Moorings AM. Dirty Squally Weather, People variously employed, | Carpenters on Shore making a New Sett of Tops for the Ship | Recd. 531 lb. Beef 300 lb. Bread. 1 Teirce of Gin +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday 20th. February 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Squally Weather, People employd getting down Top Gallt. Masts | and Yards. and unseeved the Running Rigging | | AM. Pleasant Weather, loosed Sails to Dry Recd. 683 lb. Beef 522 lb. | Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday 21st. February 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | P.M. Pleasant Weather unbent Sails AM. Ditto Weather. | People variously employed 12 of them on shore on Liberty | Received 862 lb. Beef =======+====================================================================== _Winds_|_Remarks on Teusday 22nd. February 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Cold Weather, People Employed making Points and other | Necessary Duty, a Sail Maker from Shore came on board, and | Measured our Spars for a New Sett of Sails Recd 294 lb. Bread, | Broachd 1 Box of Candles, AM. Ditto Weather People Employd as above | At 11 Capt Jones came on board and gave Orders to unrig the Ship +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday 23rd. February 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant Weather, got down Top Sail Yards. and Top Masts and | unrove all the Running Rigging Recd. 650 lb. Beef 522 lb. Bread | AM Do. Weather People Employd getting down the Top Masts Rigging NNW. | and other necessary Duty, Capt. Jones and some French Carpenters | came on Board. Mr. Darling the Boatswain released from his Confinement | and Ordered to resume his Station, and do his Duty +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday 24th. February 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | P.M Pleasant Weather, People Employed Rigging, Carpenters on Shore | making sett of Tops, for the Ship, A M Thick Weather, and small SE | Rain, People Employd repairing the Top Mast Rigging, got the Brig | that we took the first Cruize, along Side to put our Stores in +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday 25th. February 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather, People Employd getting our Stores on Board the | Brig and overhauling the Rigging A M. Do. Weather Seamen Employd SW. | at the Rigging others getting Stores into the Brig getting Water | Casks out of the Hold, sent 50 of them ashore, Recd 800 lb. Beef | 504 lb. Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday 26th. February 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather Fresh Breezes, Employd getting Stores on board the | Brig and fixing the Top Mast Rigging, in the Evening Squally & | fresh Gales of Wind had about 20 Casks of Powder damaged. by Mr. "--" | Frankford Masters Mate Starting Water in the Hold, so much as to | come an Inch up the Casks Heads in the Magazine,--Employd getting | out the Powder, Capenters & Gunners Stores and Starting the Water | Casks out of the Ground Tier,-- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday 27th. February 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather People variously employed West | AM Ditto Weather +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday 28th. February 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, Moderate Breezes of Wind, People variously employed, | A M. Do. Weather, Employed getting out Water Casks and | sending them on Shore, and putting Stores on Board the Brig +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday 29th. February 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, Moderate Breezes of Wind. Employd fixing the | Rigging, the Ship Clearing of her Stores AM. Do. Weather, Seamen | Employed getting down the Fore Rigging and Over Hauling it, others | getting out Water, unbending the Cables, and putting Sundry Stores | on board the Brig +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday March 1st. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant Weather, Put our Cables on board the Brig the People | Employd about the Rigging, Broachd 1 Box of Candles WSW. | AM Pleasant Weather, Employd getting the Fore Rigging aloft | and Trimming the Ballast aft. three Caulkers from the Lusanne | to Caulk between Decks. Capt. Bell came on Board +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday March 2nd. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, Employd about the Fore Rigging and Rigging the | Fore Yard, in Order to Lift the Bowspritt (Trimming the Ballast | Aft, Carpenters Employed on Shore, making the Tops, Recd. | 885 lb. Beef & 524 lb. Bread, Broached 1 Cask of Brandy. | AM. Dirty Weather, Employd Knotting of Yarns and other Necessary | Duty-- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday March 3rd. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- West | PM. Fair Weather. People variously employed, | AM Squally Weather and got up the Main Top, and other Necessary | Duty +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday March 4th.. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | At PM Squally Weather, Employd getting off some of the Main Rigging | and Putting Provisions on board, the Brig, the Carpenters having NNE | finished the Tops. came on Board, Recd. 746 lb. Beef 360 lb Bread. | AM. Fine Pleasant Weather, Employed getting down the Main Rigging | taking up the Orlop Decks. and other Necessary Jobbs +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday March 5th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Moderate Cloudy Weather, People variously employed, Broachd. 1 SW. | Box of Candles, AM. Do. Weather, got out the Bow Spritt, and Cutt | 2 feet 2 Inches off the Heel,--Got the Main Top up +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday March 6th..1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Thick Weather, People Employd, fixing the Rigging and other | Necessary Duty. Recd. 683 lb. Beef & 480 lb. Bread. | AM Ditto Weather got the Bowspritt in again, some Hands employd | fixing the Main Rigging, others as Necessary +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday March 7th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, got the Fore Top on, and got the Cat Water | secured, Hands Employd fixing the Main Rigging others Employd on SW. | Necessary Jobbs. | AM Do. Weather, Hands Employd Rigging the Main | Mast, Bow Spritt &c. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday March 8th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Moderate Weather, Employd. Rigging the Ship and Trimming the | Ballast forward, Recd. 756 lb. Beef 564 lb. Bread. SW | AM. Do. Weather Employd Rigging the Main Mast Bow Spritt and other | Necessary Jobbs =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday March 9th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | People Employd Fixing the Rigging Trimming Ballast forward and | other Necessary Duty. SW | AM Fair Weather, Employd as above, 2 Caulkers of the Lusanne at | work today. Recd. 768 lb. Beef 564 lb. Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday March 10th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, People employd Rigging the Ship and making some NE | Alterations in the Hold. | AM Do. Weather Employd as above, 3 Caulkers at Work between Decks +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday March 11th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather, People Employd about the Rigging stowed the | Ballast in the Hold, Delivered the Anchor that we received at the | Isle of Groa, to a French Frigate lying here, AM Fair Weather, got East | the Fore Top Mast rigging up, Hands still Employd stowing of Ballast | in the Hold, and other Necessary Duty | Received 1 Barrel of Tar, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday March 12th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fine Pleasant Weather, Rigging the Ship, and Stowing the Ballast WSW | Recd. 32 Coils of Cordage, 789 lb. Beef & 580 lb. Bread. AM. Wet | Dirty Weather, Employd Cleaning the Ship Fore and Aft +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday March 13th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant Weather, Employd Rigging the Main Top Mast and getting | the Main Yard, Fore and Aft. in Order to reduce it Recd. 377 lb. | Beef A M Ditto Weather, got the Top Masts up Swayed up the Fore Yard, | and got the Mizen Top Sail and Cross Yard athwart =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday March 14th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather, got the Fore Top Sail Yard athwart, in the Top | People Employd fixing the Rigging, Carpenters reducing the Main | Yard. Recd. 858 lb. Beef 480 lb. Bread, Broachd 1 Butt of Gin, 1 Box | of Candles AM. Do. Weather got a Lighter along side, in Order to South. | put our Gravel Ballast into, Employd Rigging the Ship, and moving | the Iron Ballast forward in the Hold, Recd. by 2 French Boats 39 | Coils of Cordage 38 Skanes of Marline, & 1 Barrel of Tar, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday March 15th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather, got the Main Top Mast on End, People Employd | at the Rigging Reducing the Main Yard, and Building a New Orlop WNW | Deck, AM Cold Weather, People Employd at the Rigging and other | Necessary Duty. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday March 16th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather got the Main Top Sail Yard athwart, & Got the West | Main Yard Rigged & swayed up, Recd. 615 lb. Beef & 516 lb. Bread. | AM. Dirty Rainy Weather employd Cleaning the Decks & other Necessary | Duty +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday March 17th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Moderate Dirty Weather, People Employed taking the Turns out of WSW | the Moorings, Received 1 Teirce of Salt | A M Do. Weather People variously employed. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday March 18th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fresh Breezes and Squally Took down the Gally. and placed the | Coppers in the Hold, Carpenters Employd making a New Main Top Gallt. | Mast, Laying the Orlop Deck, Altering Carpenters Boatswains & | Gunners Store Rooms, Recd. 688 lb. Beef & 600 lb Bread, A M Fresh | Gales and Rain Found the Deck under the Gally so Rotten as Obliged | us to lay New Plank in that place =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday March 19th. 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fresh Breezes and Dirty Weather People variously employed WSW | Broachd 1 Box of Candles. & 1 Cask of Butter | AM. Ditto Weather, People Employd as most Necessary +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday March 20th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Thick Dirty Weather People variously Employd Recd. 833 lb. of | Beef & 63 lb. Bread. A M Fair Weather, Employd Tarring the Rigging | and other Necessary Duty Carpenters Employd making the Top Gallt | Masts and laying the Deck under the Gally, and Building the Store SE | Rooms a new forward, Recd. 2 Bbls. of Tar, sent a Number of Men | to the Gun Wharf to get Cannon ready for Shipping-- +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday March 21st. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fine Weather, People variously Employed, at 4 a Lighter came | along side, with 13 Cannon, 11 of which 18 Pounders, the other | 2, Nine Pounders, got purchases fixed for them Hoisting in a | Number of Men came along side, that had lately come in a Cartell SW | from England-- | AM Ditto Weather, Hoisted in the Guns Sent the Lighters for more | the Caulkers not on Board to Day. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday March 22nd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather People Employd, Tarring Rigging & Blacking the | Sparrs. at 4 OClock, the Lighter came along Side, with 12 Eighteen | Pounders, Hoisted them in, One of our People Died at the Hospital | which is the third since we came in, Vizt. Nathl. Warner, West | Moses Hilton & Henry Wrightenton several others have Deserted | Received 1252 lb Beef & 3,000 lb Biscuits A M. Do. Weather | sent the Lighter on Shore for the Remainder of the Guns. at 8 | OClock she Returned with 4. 18 Pounders, & 9---9 do. Recd. 3 | Coils of Cordage =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday March 23rd. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather. Employd. Loading a Hoy with Gravel Ballast | and other Necessary Duty AM, Fair Weather finishd. Loading the | Lighter and sent her on Shore, to unload the Ballast, Carpenters NW. | Employd Building a Store Room. in the Place where the Boatswains. | was. for the Sails, 2 Frenchmen Employd. Covering said Place with | Tin +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday March 24th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant Weather, a Number of People on Shore, Discharging | the Duty in the Lighter Ballast, People employd at the Rigging | and other Necessary Duty. a Bricklayer came on Board with Mortar, | for building the Gally. got the Lighter along Side, again, Recd. East | 565 lb Beef & 36 lb. Bread, & 2 Teirces of Brandy. Broachd one, | A M. Ditto Weather fresh Gales of Wind, sent the Lighter. on Shore, | for 2 Guns. 1 of 18 Pounder the other of 9 Pounder, got them in. | and began. Loading the Lighter with Ballast, got a spar on Board | to make a Top Gallt Yard, and some Sheet Lead to lay under the | Gally. French Men at work Tinning the Sail Room, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Saturday March 25th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant Weather, loading the Lighter with Ballast, and getting | the Top Gallt. Masts on End, Received 525 lb Beef & 60 lb. South, | Bread 1 Box of Candles, | | AM. Pleasant Weather, finished getting out the Ballast. and | sent hands on Shore, to unlade her, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday March 26th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleast. Weather, Employd Blacking our Masts and Steering Sail | Booms, and other Necessary Duty. Benj. Yewlin Died, at the Hospital SSW. | 2 of the Caulkers at work this Day. Recd. 575 lb. Beef A M. | Ditto Weather Employd, Scraping and Washing the Decks got the | Top Gallant Yards athwart =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday March 27th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Thick Weather, sent the Lighter for Wood, Received 72lb. Bread | AM. Fair Weather, sent the Barge for the Lighter, found the Tides | had Nipped her, Left her aground, 3 Bricklayers and 2 Men Tinning SE-- | the Sail Room. at work on Board 3 Caulkers, Caulking the | Main Deck, and Cabbin +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday March 28th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, People variously Employd Recd. 1159 lb. Beef | Broachd 1 Tierce of Brandy 1 Butt of Gin | | AM. Dirty Rainy Weather, sent the Barge for the Lighter People West | Employd, on Board, Knotting of Yarns, & Making Points & Gasketts | the Caulkers. Caulking the Orlop Deck. the Bricklayers. & Tinners | as before, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday March 29th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, got the Lighter along side With Wood, 10 Chord SW | which we took in, AM. Dirty Weather, sent the Lighter on Shore, | and brought off 94 Casks, the Caulkers on board +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday March 30th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, People variously Employed Recd. 645 lb. Beef | 72 lb Bread AM. Thick Weather, Careened the Ship, and Scrubbed | her Bottom, on the Starboard Side, as far down as we Could payd | her Sides, with Lamb Black & Tallow, Carpenters making some | Alterations in the Cock Pitt. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday March 31st. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | P M Clear Weather, Blackd, our Bends. and got the Ship upright. | The Tinners not on Board. Recd. 145 lb. Beef A M Squally Weather, | Careened Ship, Scrubbed her Larboard Side and Payd it, the | Caulkers at Work, Caulking the Main Deck next the Side-- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Satarday April 1st: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, Employed taking out the Ballast out of the Spirrit | Room, and other Necessary Duty. 3 Caulkers & 1 Carpenters from WSW | the Philadelphia Ship at work, on Board, Received 1247 lb Bread | AM Rainy Dirty Weather, employd stowing away Water Casks &c. the | Carpenters & 2 of the Caulkers at work, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday April 2nd. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Dirty Weather, People variously employd, Recd. 1233 lb. Beef | AM. Thick Gales and Dirty Weather, Put several Potts of Fire, composed "-" | of Combustibles, below. and shut all the Hatchways in Order to cleanse | the Ship, and Kill the Vermin on Board, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday April 3rd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Hard Gales. and Squally, still smoaking the Ship, Broachd, 1 WNW. | Box of Candles, AM Dirty Weather, Employd making Points & Gasketts | & other Necessary Duty +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday April 4th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fresh Gales and Squally. People employd variously. Recd. 341 | lb Beef & 3010 lb. Bread. Broachd 1 Cask Arrack, AM Moderate NW | Weather sent the Barge for some Plank, People Employd Knotting | Yarns and making Points & Gasketts. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday April 5th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | AM. Fresh Gales. Employd Cleaning out the Spirrit Room and getting "-" | out the Ballast Recd. 595 lb. Beef, 144 lb. Bread. A M Fair Weather | variously employed +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday April 6th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, got some of the Casks & Ballast out of the Fore "-" | Hold to Enlarge the Magazine Recd. 612 lb. Beef & 72 lb. Bread | AM Ditto Weather, Employd getting up the Rigging =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday April 7th. 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, Employd setting up the Rigging and other Necessary | Duty, 6 Carpenters & Caulkers from the Philadelphia Ship at Work, NE | Fresh Gales & Rain, People variously employd,-- +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday April 8th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fresh Gales attended with Rain, People variously employd | Recd. 1221 lb. Beef Employd as Necessary | ===================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday April 9th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, Employd as most Necessary, Recd. 8 Bolts of =for= | Duck, for making of Hammocks, & some twine Broachd 1 Cask of Arrack, | AM Dirty Weather, People Employd scrubbing the Hammocks. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday April 10th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant. Weather, People variously employd, the Lighter returned West | with Water, Recd. 93 lb. Bread. AM. Ditto Weather | unloaded the Lighter. filled 40 Casks. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday April 11th 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather, People variously employed, the Lighter returned | with Water, Recd. 93 lb. Bread. AM Do. Weather unloaded the Lighter, | Started the Water into Casks in the Hold filled 40-- +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday April 12th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- VBle, | PM. Pleasant Weather all Hands variously employd; A M Ditto | Weather, 3 OClock sent the Lighter for Water | Departed this Life Chace Rogers Cooper---- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday April 13th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, the Lighter returned with Water, Hoisted it in and | started it into Casks in the Hold, filled 50 Casks, sent the Lighter | for more Water Recd. 1912 lb. Beef & 72 lb. Bread, Broachd 1 Cask | of Arrack | | AM. Fresh Gales, the Lighter set out again and got about a Mile, Westy. | from the Ship when the People were obliged to leave her, the Wind | blowing to Hard to get any further, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday April 14th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fresh Breezes. People variously employed, Recd. 72 lb. Bread, NE | A M Ditto Weather, gave the Lusannes, Carpenters & Caulkers, a | Certificate for the Time they had worked on board, got Water a Long | side, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday April 15th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, Employd getting the Water, and other Necessary | Duty, Received 608 lb. Bread, 3028 lb. Beef. A M. Do. Weather sent SE. | the Lighter to Port Louis, for Boxes of Small Arms at Meridian she | returnd with 67 Boxes +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday April 16th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM small Showers of Rain, Hoisted in the Arms. the Barge brought | off 6 Planks and 2 Knees for Enlarging the Gangways. Recd. 108 lb. NW | Bread Broachd 1 Cask of Arrack, 1 Cask of Butter | A M Ditto Weather, People variously employed, Carpenters Lengthning | the Quarter Deck, 2 Carpenters 2 Caulkers. from the Lusanne on board. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday April 17th..1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fresh Breezes and Fair Weather, People Variously Employed, Recd West | 983 lb Beef Broachd 1 Box of Candles. A M Ditto Weather, Carpenters | and others Employed as most Necessary, Sent the Lighter on Shore | for the Remainder, of our Water Cask, and some Coal =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday April 18th: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fresh Gales, Fair Weather, Variously Employed on Board WNW. | A M Ditto Weather, Carpenters Lengthning the Quarter Deck, Received | 10 Chord of Wood, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday April 19th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, the Lighter came along Side with the Water Casks | and 25 Bushels of Coals. stowed the Water Casks, & Coal, Carpenters West | Employed as usual, A M Ditto Weather, People variously Employed, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday April 20th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, People variously employed Recd 847 lb Beef NNW. | 108 lb Bread, 2 Casks of Brandy Contg. 120 Gallons, Broachd one | A M. Ditto Weather, Employd as most necessary. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday April 21st: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, People variously Employed | | AM. Foggy Dirty Weather, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday April 22nd. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- SW. | PM Fair Weather, the People Received one Months Pay Recd 108 lb | Bread, and 6 Bushells of Salt, A M Do. Weather, got a Craft with | Water along side, filled all our Gang Casks Except 6 Gang Casks, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday April 23rd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | P M Fair Weather, sent the Craft on Shore, Carpenters at work on West | the Quarter Deck, and Gangways Recd. 2030 lb Beef, Broachd 1 Cask | of Brandy, A M. Dirty Weather, People variously employed =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday April 24th: 1780_-- -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- Vble, | PM. Fair Weather, People Employed on Sundry Jobbs. M M Thick | Weather | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday April 25th..1780_-- +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, People Employd on Sundry Jobbs, A M Thick Foggy | Wear. | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday April 26th. 1780_-- +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fresh Breezes attended with Rain, Struck Top Gallt. Masts | Recd. 108 lb. Bread, & 278 Candles, and 2 Casks of Brandy. W.SW | A M Fair Weather got up Top Gallt. Masts, Mr. Blodgett the Purser, | and the Master of the Lusanne came on board, to Survey Provisions | People Employed Trimming the Casks. | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday April 27th.. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, Coopers Trimming the Provision Casks, Carpenters SW. | Employed as usual, Recd. 2047 Beef Broach 1 Cask of Brandy | AM Fresh Winds and Rain | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday April 28th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Dirty Weather, variously Employed, Recd. 324 lb. Beef 108 lb. | Bread "-" | A M Ditto Weather, | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday April 29th.. 1780_-- +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, Coopers Employed, Pickling & Trimming Provisions | Carpenters Building the Gang Ways; Recd. 14 Bushells Salt | Broachd 1 Box of Candles, A M Do. Weather Employd as usual | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday April 30th.. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | P.M Fair Weather Carpenters Employed as usual, | | A.M. Ditto Weather, | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday May the 1st: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather People Employd variously, Recd. 1484 lb. Beef & 105 SE. | lb. Bread, AM Dirty Rainy Weather +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday May the 2nd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | AM. Dirty Weather, People variously Employed, Recd 2845 lb. Bread ENE | A M Fair Weather, surveying Provisions, Condemnd 1 Hogshead | 2 Teirces & 5 Barrels of Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday May the 3rd. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, People variously employed, Broachd 1 Cask of Brandy | AM Ditto Weather, came on Board one of the Harbour Pilots, with | Orders for us to leave the Kings Moorings, to make room for a 74 | Gun Ship from the Port, Bent our Cable we received in Holland, to Easty. | our best Bower Anchor, and an Old one to the Small Bower and Moored | the Ship in 9 Fathom Water, put Service on the best Cable, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday May 4th.. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fine Weather, 2 Plumbers on board Pulling Leads in the Hause SSW | Holes Recd. 1229 lb. Beef & 108 lb. Bread. AM Do. Weather People | variously Employed +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday May 5th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather People variously Employed, AM Thick Weather small | Rain, a French Boat came along side with an Eighteen Inch Cable, | a Rope for a Messinger 2 Buoy Ropes. a Coil of Bolt Ropes | very poor Rigging gave a Receipt for all Except the Messinger, | Carpenters Employed finishing the Gang Ways. Caulkers Employd | Caulking them. Surveyd some Provisions. Condemnd 2 Barrels. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday May 6th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather People variously Employd. Recd. 1032 lb. Beef & SW. | 108 lb. Bread AM Thick Weather =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday May 7th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, the Caukers finished Caulking the Gang Ways. SW | Coopers Trimming Provisions, A M Thick Weather Mustered the People | several Missing +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday 8th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, Recd. 806 lb. Beef 80 lb. Bread & 4 Teirces of Rum | Contg. 216 Galls. Broachd one, A M. Thick Weather, some Rain. Recd. | 459 Starr Shott, Twelve Pounders. & 262 Nine Pounders. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday Monday May 9th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fresh Gales and thick Weather, People variously Employed. Recd. | 33 lb. Beef & 8 Bushells of Salt. AM. Ditto Weather, finished. Overhauling | the Provisions, one Barrel more Condemnd. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday May 10th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fresh Gales and Dirty Weather, People variously Employed Recd. | 407 lb. Beef 12 Teirces of Brandy. A M Ditto Weather,-- +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday May 11th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, Carpenters and others Employed as most Necessary WSW. | Recd. 154 lb. Bread. Broachd 1 Barrel of Pork, A M Ditto Weather. | People Employed, Cleaning the Guns for Painting +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday May 12th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fair Weather, People variously Employed, Recd. 1070 lb. Beef | Broachd 1 Tierce of Rum. 1 Box of Candles, found. 1 Barrel 3/4 of SSW | another of Flour has been taken out of the Brig along Side | AM Ditto Weather Employd Painting the Guns---- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Satarday May 13th: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fresh Gales. & Dirty Weather, Struck Top Gallr. Masts, | Struck Yards and Top Masts, miss a Half Bbl. of Pork, out of the | Brig, AM. Fair Weather, People variously employed, gave the SSW | Lusannes Carpenters Certificates for thier Work, (Vizt. James | Barry 20 days Jas. Clark 20 days. Natl. Boyd 12 days. Christ. | Marlin 12 days Wm. White 10 days +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday May 14th: 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- SSW | PM Fresh Gales and Dirty Weather, Employd Painting the Ship | and other Necessary Duty Recd. 1121 lb. Beef 108 lb. Bread, North. | A M Ditto Weather Swayed up Yards & Top Masts +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday May 15th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fresh Gales & Dirty Weather, Struck Yards & Top Masts, AM | Fresh Breezes and Fair Weather People variously employed +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday May 16th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Pleasant Weather, Employed making Sennett for Waste Netting, | Painting the Inside of the Ship, and a Stowing a Quantity Plank | in the Hold, Recd. 108 lb. Bread. Broachd 1 Teirce of Rum. | A M Foggy Weather, People variously Employed. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday May 17th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- Vble. | PM Fair Weather, People variously Employed. Recd. 1346 lb. Beef, | & 3,000 Wt. Bread. A M Ditto Weather, swayed up Yards and Top | Masts. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday May 18th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, People variously Employed Recd. 12 Bushels of | Potatoes, 1 Teirce of Rum we Broached. Calm | AM Ditto Weather, sent our Barge, and another Port to Port | Louis for Powder, Employd on Board Painting the Inside Work, | Round the Quarter Deck, and other Necessary Duty =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday May 19th: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fine Pleasant Weather, the Boats returned with 67 Barrels of Powder Vble. | Stowed 54 forward in a place, built for that Purpose, abaft, the | Magazine received 108 lb. Bread | AM Ditto Weather, Employed unrigging the Mizen Mast in Order to | Shift it farther Aft. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday May 20th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM. Fine Pleasant Weather, a French Boat Brought along Side, 15 | Teirces of 1 Bbl. of Pork, we have now on board of 63 Bbls. of Beef | 17 Teirces of Ditto, 1 Large Teirce, & 2 Puncheons of ditto, 10 Bbls. | & 2 Teirces of Pork, 182 Butts & 10 Puncheons of Water, Recd. 1638 lb | Beef & 3 Casks of Rum Contg. 223 Galls. Broachd 1, AM Ditto Weather, | Employd stepping the Mizen Mast, and getting up Sheers in Order to | Hoist it out, Carpenters fixing the Step for it on the Lower Deck, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday May 21st: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather, 2 French Boats brought us off 6 Chord of Wood | got out our Mizen Mast, and stept it. Broachd 1 Teirce of Rum AM | Ditto Weather, Employd Rigging the Mizen Mast, and other Necessary | Duty. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday May 22nd. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather, People variously Employed Recd. 108 lb. Bread West. | AM Fresh Breezes. Employd Rigging the Mizen Mast +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday May 23rd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- "-" | PM. Fresh Breezes and fair Weather, Variously Employed, AM. Ditto | Weather, Employed Cleaning the Ship, Fore and Aft | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Wednesday May 24th: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, People variously employed | | AM Ditto Weather, the Boats went to Port Louis for Powder, got the VBle. | Cables, out of the Starboard Orlop, in Order to Paint the End of the | New Cable, found one of the Cables, we got in Holland, Eat in several | Places by the Ratts, as much as 20 Yarns off +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday May 25th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Fair Weather, Finished Painting the Cable, spliced it to the | Part of a Cable, took up with the Serapis's Anchor, Coiled them | after wetting them. the Boats returned with the Powder, Stowed 20 | Barrels in the After Magazines, which filled it, put 29 Barrels on SW | Board the Brig along side. which was all the Boats brought | AM Ditto Weather, Employd Cleaning the Ships Sides in Order for | Paying them. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday May 26th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather, People variously employed | | AM Ditto Weather, employd Blacking the Ships Sides & Painting the | Carved Work, 2 French Boats brought off 10 Barrels of Pork. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday May 27th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | PM Pleasant Weather, still Employd Blacking the Ship Two French | Boats brought. 57 Sacks of Bread. NE. | AM. Do. Weather, Hands Employed stowing away the Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday May 28th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Moderate & Pleasant, Cleaned Ship got Top Gallt Yards a Cross SSE. | &c. Latter part Moderate and Pleasant =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday May 29th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Moderate & Clear, People variously Employed on board, SSW | Recd. 60 Bags of Bread, Exercised the Cannon. Latter Part Ditto Winds +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday May 30th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Moderate & Clear, People variously, Employed. Shifted the Sheet, VBle. | Bower, and the small Bower Cv Middle Part Hard Thunder, Squalls and | some Rain Latter Part Ditto Weather, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday May 31st. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Moderate & Clear, People variously Employed, at Sennett. Points SW | & Gasketts. Middle Part. Exercised the Cannon. Cleaning Ship and | other Sundry Jobbs. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday June the 1st. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Moderate & Clear, People variously Employd, West | Latter Part Do. Weather +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday June 2nd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Moderate and Pleasant Weather. People Employd as Necessary SW | Exercised the Cannon. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday June 3rd. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- NE | Begins Moderate Breezes and Pleasant Weather. People as Yesterday +====================================================================== | _Sunday_ | _Remarks on =Satarday= June 4th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- SSW | Begins Moderate and Clear Weather, People Cleaning between Decks. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday June 5th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Moderate Breezes and Plenty of Rain, People variously Employed West. | Received 60 Bags of Bread. =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday June 6th: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- SW. | Moderate & Clear People Variously Employed. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday June 7th..1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Moderate & Clear, some Squalls of Rain, People Employed on Sundry Jobbs +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday June 8th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- WSW. | Moderate & Clear, People Employd, on various Occasions +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday June 9th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- SW. | Begins Moderate & Clear, People as before +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday June 10th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- -"- | Begins Moderate & Clear, People as before, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday June 11th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- -"- | Begins Moderate & Clear, People as before +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday June 12th..1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Moderate & Clear, Employd Hauling the Brig from along side | up to the Key the Tide of Ebb making Could not get her up, | Returned with the Boat. & People, Capt. Landy came on board, and took | Command, he said by Orders of Congress, his Orders were read to the | Officers & People, Capt. Landy Orderd all the Officers, that belonged | to the Late Bon Homme Richard, Capt. Jones, on Shore, and any other | Officer, that would not Acknowledge him Capt. of the Alliance, | Capt Jones Officers came on Shore,--Capt Jones, set out for Paris-- | | End of the Alliances Journall An Account of Occurrences in L'Orient respecting the Bon Homme Richards Officers & Crew -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday June 13th. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Clear Pleasant Weather all the Officers on Shore waiting WSW | for Orders +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday June 14th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Clear Pleasant Weather, the Officers as before, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday June 15th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Clear & Pleasant Weather, still Waiting for Orders | Commencement of the Ariels Journal +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday June 16th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins Clear & Pleasant Weather, Orders to the Officers, to Attend | on Board, the Ariel Frigate, in the Port of L'Orient, being taken | in the Service of the United States +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday June 17th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Clear and Moderate Weather, People Employd getting in 6 | Chord of Wood, and the Top Mast Rigging, Shrouds and Stays Likewise | got 2 Anchors to the Bow. and bent the Cables to them and then SW | Hauled the Ship out in the Stream. | Received on Board 24 Sheets of Lead | 1 Bar of Lead | 5 Cables | 4 Hausers | 63 Water Casks A Journall Kept on Board the American Continental Ship of War, Ariel, of 26 ... Nine Pounders, Commanded by the Honble. John Paul Jones Esqr. Commencing in the Port of L.'Orient June the 16th: 1780-- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday June 18th. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Clear and Moderate Weather, went on Board the Ship | Alliance, with an Order from the Commandant, to Capt Landy, for the | People that belongd. to the late Bon Homme Richard but Capt. Landy | refused letting them come on Shore, without an Order from Capt. | Jones, at 3 PM. the Alliance fired a Gun and Hoisted, an American | Jack, at the Fore Top Mast Head, being a Signal for a Pilot in Order | to go down to Port Louis, at 5 in the Afternoon, the Alliance fired | a Salute of 15 Guns +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday June 19th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Messrs. Lunt and Stacey went on Board the Alliance, and got their | Cloaths on Shore, the Alliance fired a Gun, and Hoisted a Signal for | a Pilot, to carry her to the Isle of Groa, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday June 20th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Morning the Alliance Halled down to Port, Louis at 1/2 Past 7 | Capt Jones Arrived from Paris---- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Wednesday June 21st: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This morning the Alliance Halled outside of Port Louis, and got | under way with all Sail Sett, Mr. Lunt & self went on board the | Alliance after the People belonging to the late Bon Homme Richard, | Capt. Landy refused the men to come on Shore, as likewise Capt. | Jones Stores, or Barge +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday June 22nd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day the Serapis was Sold here for 240,000 Livres. | Nothing more Particular, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday June 23rd. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Nothing +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday June 24th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The Alliance Sailed and Came to an Anchor under Groa, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday June 25th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This day Commodore Gillon set out for Amsterdam, waited on the | Commandant, Concerning Men that belonged to the Late Bon Homme | Richard, Entered in the Service of the State of South Carolina, | under the Command, of the Commodore, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday June 26th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Halled the Ariel into Port and received Orders to Commence Rigging | her, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday June 27th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, and a fresh Breeze of Wind French Riggers | on board the Ariel, =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Wednesday June 28th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with a fresh Breeze, & fine Weather, this Morning | the News of South Carolina being taken by the English Arrived | in Town.--getting Guns on board +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday June 29th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Capt. Jones Orderd to send on Board the Alliance for | 80 of the best Seamen, and the Carpenters and Joiners to assist | in fitting the Ariel for Sea, and for the Alliance, to come to | Port Louis, these Orders were sent on board by Mr. Livingston, | an Officer in the Service of America, Capt. Landy sent 23 Men. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday June 30th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with Cloudy Weather, and some Rain, Orders were | given to pay the People 5 Guineas pr. Man. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday July 1st. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This day Cloudy Weather, and some Rain. People Employed setting | up the Lower Rigging, Over Hauled the Shott on board and found | there to be 780, Round for the 9 Pounders & 200 Double Headed | Shott +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday July 2nd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Cloudy Weather, and some Rain, and a Fresh Breeze, of | Wind,-- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday July the 3rd. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Cloudy with Rain. People Employd Rigging the Ship | Received on Board the following Stores. Vizt. | 1 Cask of Rum Contg. 60 Gallons | 12 Cans | 12 Crows +============================================ | 1 Gallon of Salt | _Remarks on Teusday July 4th. 1780_ | 1 Quart +-------------------------------------------- | 1 Pint Pot | People Employd Rigging the Ship, Received | 3 Gill 1-1/2 Pint Pot | Top Masts & 3 Lower Caps. got them over | 1 Funnell | Head and Swayed the Top Masts up, | 40 lb Fresh Beef | Recd. 42 lb Fresh Beef | 42 lb. Bread | 42 Bread +=========================+============================================ | _Remarks on Weds.day July 5th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Cloudy Weather and Rain. People Employd Rigging the Ship | 5 French Boys came on Board, | Received the following Stores Vizt. | 2 Fore & Main Top Gallt. Caps | 3 Top Sail Yards | 2 Pair of Top Gallt. Cross Trees | 3 Lower Yards | 2 Top Ropes | 1 Jibb Boom | 2 Top Mauls | 42 lb. Bread | 3 Iron Fidds | 32 small Dead Eyes +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday July 6th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fine Weather, all Hands Employed Rigging the Ship | Received the following Articles Vizt. | Lanyards for the Top Mast Shrouds | 12 Baskets | 24 Scrapers | 1 Lanthorn | 12 Brooms | 52 lb. Fresh Beef | 54 lb Bread | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday July 7th: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Rain and thick Weather, all Hands Employed Rigging the | Ship, the Officers and Men who were Confined in Goal were | released, and Came on Board, Recd. the followg. Articles Vizt. | 12 Crow Bars | 12 Hand Spikes | 58lb. Fresh Beef | 60lb Bread, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday July 8th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with fine Weather, all Hands Employd Rigging the | Ship, French Carpenters at work, | Expended 58 lb Fresh Beef | 60 lb Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday July 9th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fine Weather, the French Carpenters at work | Received 58 lb Beef | 100 lb Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday July 10th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fine Weather, all Hands Employed Rigging the Ship,---- | Entered Mr. Wheeler, as Gunner, Martin Shaw as Boatswains Mate | 3 Americans & 6 Seamen, (French) Cleaned out the Hold, for Stowing, | Received 2 Carpenters from an American Brig, called the Duke of | Leinster. French Carpenters & Riggers as before, | Recd. 63 lb. Beef | 73 Bread =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday July 11th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fine Weather, Hands Employed Rigging the Ship, Cleaning | the between Decks, Coiling the Cables. in their propper places, a | Number of French Carpenters at work, and some from the Duke of | Leinster | | Expended 67 lb. Fresh Beef | 66 Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday July 12th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Hands Employed fitting the Ship, Blacking Yards Masts &c. | Mr. Wheeler the Gunner, set out for St. Maloes, to recruit Men | French Carpenters, and the Joiners from the Duke of Linster, | Provisions Expended 67 lb Fresh Beef | 66 lb. Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday July 13th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fair Weather, and Clear, Hands Employd as Necessary | French Carpenters & 2 Joiners from the Duke of Leinster as before, | Provisions Expended 140 lb. Beef | 140 Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday July 14th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fine Breezes and Clear Weather, Hands Employed as most | Necessary. took in 147 Pieces of Iron Ballast, Received a Cask of | Brandy. French Carpenters &c. as before | Expended 163 lb. Beef | 161 lb Bread | 1 Cask of Rum =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Satarday July 15th. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, Hands Employed taking out some Large Iron | Ballast, Provisions Expended 160 lb. Beef | 160 Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday July 16th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, No People at work. | Expended 101 lb. Beef | 161 Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday July 17th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, and Moderate Winds, Hands employed setting | up the Rigging, Carpenters as before, | Provisions Expended 160 lb Beef | 160 Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday July the 18th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Cloudy Weather and some Rain, People Employd as Necessary | Received from Port Louis, as follows | 37 Cases with 33 Arms in each | 16 do ... with 25 do.. | Provisions Expended 188 lb Beef | 191 Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday July 19th: 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Cloudy Weather, People variously employed. Received from | Port Louis as follows. | 34 Cases with 33 Arms in ea | 23 Cases with 25 Do | 1 Case with 24 do | 2 Cases with 34 do. | Provisions Expended 210 lb Beef | 200 Bread | 1 Cask Rum 55 Galls. =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday July 20th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, Hands Employed about the Rigging stowing the | Hold, &c. French Carpenters as before, Received from Port Louis Vizt. | 24 Cases with 33 Arms in ea | 6 Cases of do. 34 do | 1 Case --- 19 do | 1 small do. with Pistols | Provisions Expended. 118 lb. Beef | 118 Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday July 21st: 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, People Employed as Necessary. At 11 OClock | Hoisted Jack, Ensign, & Pendant, Manned Ship in Complement to a | French Admiral passing by. Received 5 Chord of Wood | Expended 118 lb Beef | 118 Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Saturday July 22nd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fine Weather, the People stowing the Hold, | Received the following Provisions VIZt. | 40 Bbls. of Beef 100 Kegs of Barly | 20 Do. of Pork 110 lb. Fresh Beef | 2 Do. of Pease 110 Bread | 12 Do. of Flour 6 Gallons of Salt | 2 Hhds. of Potatoes +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday July 23rd. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fine Weather, the French Carpenters at work as usual | Provisions Expended 118 lb Beef | 118 lb Bread =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday July 24th. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fair Weather, People Employd about Necessary Jobbs | French Carpenters as usual Received on Board 5 Firkins of Butter, | Entered 6 Englishmen from a French Prison | Received 110 lb. Beef | 198 Bread | 1 Cask of Rum +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday July 25th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fine Weather, People Employed, about Necessary Jobbs | French Carpenters as usual, Recd. 5,000 lb Biscuit, Bent Fore Top | Sail and Jibb, Fore Top Mast stay Sail & Mizen, Fore & Main Sail | Received several Robins & Earings, Recd 212 lb Beef 212 lb Bread | Received the following Gunners Stores | | 40 Gun Takles |15 Thimbles | 2 Skanes of | 24 Breechings | 2 Hooks | Hambro' Line | 1 Pair of Slings | 9 Rings | 1 Hammer |Beds & Coins for 20 | 8 Crow Bars | 2 Spare Carriages |Carriages | 2 Hammers | 4 Spare Beds. | 2 Spunges | 4 Bundle Rings of Wire| | 2 Worms | 3 Sheep Skins | | 2 Ladles | 1 Piece of Cork | | 30 Cartridge Boxes |30 Wax Candles | | 15 Powder Horns | 1 Piece of Bees Wax | | 3 Bouch Barrels | 6 Seives | | 116 Grape Shott | 2 Peices of Marline | | 84 Cannister Shott | 2 Lamps | |1600 Wads | 9 Side Lanthorns | | 3 Axel Trees | 1 Pair of Jack Screws | | 15 Priming Wires |10 Aprons of Lead | | 6 Gimbletts | 1 Sheet of Lead | | 8 Spare Rammers | 1 Keg of Black Paint | | 3 Marline Spikes | 1 Keg of White Paint | | 2 Axes | 2 Skanes of Hausing | | 4 Scrapers | | a Quantity of Matching| | 1 Cold Chissell | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Wednesday July 26th. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fine Weather. People Employd as Necessary | Recd. 9267 lb Biscuit | Expended 212 lb Beef | 212 Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday July 27th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fine Weather, People Employd about the Nettings | for the Waist and other Necessary Jobbs. the French Carpenters and | Joiners at work as usual, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday July 28th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fine Weather People Employd as most Necessary | French Carpenters and Joiners as before, Received 5 Chord of Wood, | 96 Hammocks, and a Large Chest for the Masters small stores | Expended 220 lb Beef | 220 Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday July 29th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fine Weather, Received on Board 2 Pine Tables and | a Number of Coils of small Cordage. Halled the Ship out in the | Road: and Moored her, to the Moorings +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday July 30th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fine Weather & Calm, People Employd. Cleaning Ship &c. | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday July 31st. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fine Weather, People Employd on Sundry Jobbs French | Carpenters & Joiners as before, Received on Board the Medicine Chest | and 12 Beds for the Sick, =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday August the 1st. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fine Weather People Employd on Necessary Jobbs. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday August 2nd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Cloudy Weather, & some Rain People Employd on Necessary | Jobbs. French Carpenters and Joiners as before, | Received on Board the following Stores Vizt. | 54 Coils of small Cordage | 32 Lengths of Junk 2 fatm, each | 2 Cases of Bottled Rum | 3 Double Blocks | 3 Tribble Blocks | 12 Fiddle Blocks | 22 Single Blocks | 2 Tye Blocks | 1 Burton Block | 2 Snatch Blocks | 2 Top Blocks | 1 Cat Block | 2 Top Sail Sheet Blocks | 25--6 Inch Block | 6--8 Inch Block | 24 Hook Blocks | 8 Strap Blocks | 8 Tail Blocks | 5 Ribbs | 24 Trucks | 1 Panell | 2 Fids | 2 Malletts | 38 Belaying Pins =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday August 3rd: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fine Pleasant Weather, People variously employed, some to Work | on the Quarters some Arranging the Anchors on each Bow | Received on Board the following Stores | 25 small Single Blocks | 8 feet of Lignum Vita for Pins for Blocks | 6 Nine Inch Blocks | 2 Top Sail Tye Blocks, | 12, 2 Inch Blocks | 4 Fiddle Blocks, 1 Dozen Trucks. 5 Ribbs | 4 Eight Inch Blocks | 15 Tribble double Fiddle Blocks | 22 Hook Blocks ready finished, | 8 Blocks ready Strapped | 2 Top Blocks | 2 Top Sail Sheet Blocks | 1 Catt Block | 2 Large double Block | 14 Trucks | 8 small Tail Blocks +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday August 4th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The Weather very fine People Employd getting in Single Ballast and | several other Necessary Jobbs. | Received on Board as follows.--Vizt. | 8 Shovells | 10 Thimbles | 6 Lanthorns | 2 Dark Lanthorns | 6 Sheets of Tin | 6 Long Brushes | 1 Copper Machine | 3 Iron Wedges | 10 Hooks & Thimbles | 3 Spun Yarn Winches | 10 Staples | 1 Fish Gig | 1 Shark Hook | 1 Grain | 18 Planks | 2 Barrels of Tar, | 1 Half Barrel Pitch | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Satarday August 5th 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, the Capt. Orderd the Hold to be broke up to | search for a Box of Arms, Received, a long Side a Hoy with Powder. | Stowed away 60 Barrels of it. French Carpenters as before, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday August 6th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, Hands still Employed breaking up the Hold, | Found out the Mistake in the Arms, took in the Remainder of the | Powder, being in all 237 Barrells, stowed away the Main Hold, and | Bent the Main Top Sail +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday August 7th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, People Employed, scrapeing and Cleaning the | Gun Deck, this Morning the Carpenters and Caulkers, were Orderd | a Shore, & in the afternoon returned +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday August 8th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, People Employd Cleaning the Cabbin fitting | of Sails in Order to Bend, Bent the Main & Fore Sail Unbent the | Mizen Top Sail, and Bent another, and Bent the Main Top Mast Stay | Sail, Shifted some of the Ballast from Forward too Aft, in Order to | Bring her by the Stern +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday August 9th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day fine Weather, People Employd on Sundry Jobbs | Received on Board as follows. | 200 Barrels of Powder 5 Bundles Wood Hoops | 52 Hammocks 2 Rudder Irons | 5 Breakers 1 Harness Tub | 1 Wood Funnell 4 Futtock Plates | 7 Piggins 12 Boom Irons | 6 Breakers. 2 Irons for the Anchor Stock =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Thursday August. 10th: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day Fine Weather, Hands Employd, Scraping the Ships Sides | and other Necessary Jobbs. Examined the Cask of Potatoes and found | them not fitt to Eat, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday August 11th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The Fore Part of these 24 Hours Clear, and Pleasant Weather, Winds | from the Westward, Middle and latter part, thunder & Rain | Mr. Stacey taken Sick this day | Received on Board the following Stores | 3 Coils of 3 Inch Rope, | 3 Coils of 6 Inch Hauser laid | 1 Coil of 2 Inch..Do. | 3 Pair of Lower Shrouds | 1 Coil of 4 Inch for Stays | 1 Fish Pendant | 1 Fish Pendant of 5 Inch | 2 Coils of 3 Inch | 1 Fish Hook 1 Catt Block +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday August 12th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Begins with Clear, Pleasant Weather, Winds Squally. Middle | and latter Part, Squally with Showers of Rain | Received on Board the following Stores Vizt. | 50 fathom of 4 Inch Rope | 1 Coil of 2 Inch | 1 Coil of 3 Inch | 2 Coils of 2-1/2 Inch | 1 Coil of 3-1/2 Inch | 1 Catt Block | 1 Large Single 1 Large Double Block | 21 Basketts | | French Carpenters and Joiners as before, =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday August 13th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins with Clear, Pleasant Weather, People Employd | washing the Decks, and scraping the Ships sides, Middle and | latter part Ditto Weather, +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday August 14th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | This Day begins, with Clear, Pleasant Weather, People Employd | Received on Board the following Articles Vizt. | | 2 Main Top Mast Steerg. Sails | 1 Mizen | 1 Main Steering Sail | 2 Jibbs | 2 Main Top Gallt. Steerg. Sails | 2 Mizen Top Mast Do | 1 Sprit Sail Top Sail | 2 Barricado Cloths | 5 Covering Cloths | 1 Wind Sail | 1 Quarter Cloth | 1 Canvas Hose | 6 Tarpaulins | 5 Coats for Masts | 2 Pumps for Hoses | 2 Fore Top Mast Steering Sails | 2 Fore Top Gallt. Steering Sails | 1 Middle Stay Sail | 1 Main Sail | 1 Fore Sail | 1 Royall | 16 Cott Frames | 4 Chair Frames | 4 Benches +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday August 15th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The first part of these 24 Hours. Clear Weather, and the Wind | from the Westward, Received on board 6 Different Flags and 1 | English Pendant, the Middle, and Latter Part Do Weather, People | Employd Cleaning the Ship Painters in Painting, thus ends this | 24 Hours | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Wednesday August 16th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours Squalls of Wind and Rain, from the Westward, | Received on Board the following Articles Vizt. | | 1 Drum | 1 Peice of Wire | 1 Bolt & Shackel | 4 Iron Stantions for the Waist | 1 Cupboard for the Amourer | 73 Brooms | 24 Sheets of Tin | 4 Kegs of Shott | 1 Bag of Flints | 51 Peices of Horn for Lanthorns | 2 Spare Drum Heads | 1 Bag of Amourers Tools | 20 Reams of Paper for Musqt. Cartridges | 1 Tarpaulin for the Arm Chest | 1 Great Coat for the Marines | Painters Painting the Ship +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday August 17th: 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours Squalls of Wind & Rain from the Westward | Received on Board the following Articles Vizt. | 3 Top Armours | 4 Waste & fore Castle Cloths | 1 Hanging Compass | 27 Barrels of Powder, and all the spare Sparrs. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday August 18th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The Fore Part of these 24 Hours. Clear Weather, fresh Gales from | the Westward. Employd getting the Steering Sail Booms to the | Yards. Received 1 Cask of Brandy, Painters Painting the Ship +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday August 19th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours Clear Weather and fresh Gales. People on sundry | Jobbs Painters still at work, Received a Number of Fusiez for | the Marines +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday August 20th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours, Clear & Pleasant Weather. Company Came on board | to view the Ship--Manned Ship at thier departure,---- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday August 21st: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours, Clear Weather & fresh Breezes from the Westward | People variously Employed, Received a Number of Sparrs, New | Sails &c. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday August 22nd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- Westy. | These 24 Hours fresh Gales & Cloudy Weather, Received on Board | Viz-- | 1 Store Chest for the Marines Cloaths | 2 Binnacles | 2 Racks for the Arms. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday August 23rd. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fresh Gales. Received, on Board 1 Locker for the | Cook 1 Large Chest for the Capts. Table Linnen &c. 2 Arm Chest | for Tops. 1 4 Hour Glass. People Employd as Necessary-- +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday August 24th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- Easty. | These 24 Hours Winds from the Eastward. People Employed setting | up the Rigging, Received on Board Vizt. | 300 Pair of Shoes | 300 Pair of Stockgs +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday August 25th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours, fresh Gales to the Eastward, this Being the | French Kings Birth day. Fired 2 Royall Salutes, with the Cannon, | the Marines, fired 2 Feu de Joyes. the People variously | Employed--on Sundry Jobbs-- +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday August 26th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The Fore Part of these 24 Hours. Begins with fresh Gales from | the Eastwd. People variously employed, Bending Steering Sails, | Recd. 60 Casks of Water. =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday August 27th: 1780----_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- Easty. | These 24 Hours, fresh Gales, employed stowing away the Water +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday August 28th: 1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours. Clear, and Pleasant Weather, Finished stowing the | Water Casks, Received on Board the following Articles Vizt. | | 10 Chord of Wood | No. 22 a Large Mortar marked A | No. 1 a Case A | No. 23 a Parcell of Sieves | 9 Do. | 5 a Case | 10 Do. | 24 a Barrel of Oyl | 17 Do. | 3 a Case | 12 Do. | 4 a Case | 19 Do. | 20 a Case | 7 Do. | 2 a Case | 13 Do. | 21 a Case | 15 Do. | 25 a Case of Instruments | 16 Do. | 8 a Case | 14 Do. | 11 a Case | 18 Do. | | 6 Do. | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday August 29th..1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours begins with Moderate Breezes, from the Westward, | People variously Employed, fitting sundry Jobbs about the Rigging, | Received on Board the following Articles Vizt. | | No. 1 a Case marked TR | No. 2 a Box marked WP | 2 a Case FL | Box marked <C> | a Box MD | a Trunk marked PT | a Box PB | a Trunk W | a Trunk TR | 6 Cases of Wine V | No. 1 a Box WP | | 2 a Box......TR | | 1 a Trunk ....FL | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Wednesday August 30th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Clear Weather, and Fresh Breezes from the Westward, | People variously employed. Received on Board the following | Articles Westy- | 1 Pipe of Wine | 8 different Ensigns | 3 Pendants. | 1 Cask of Brandy +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday August 31st: 1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Clear Weather, and Light Winds from the Westward --"-- | People variously Employed | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday September 1st: 1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours. Hazey. with Rain, People Employed fitting the --"-- | Quarter Deck, for a Grand Entertainment, Received 16 Cases of | Wine-- +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday September 2nd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours begins with Clear Weather, and Moderate Breezes | from the Eastward, had a Grand Entertainment on Board.. Expended EastY- | 2 Cases No. 7 & 20, Fired Salutes, Exercised Great Guns, and | small Arms. the Capt. Kicked Mr. Fanning, Midshipman, and | Ordered him below,-- +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday September 3rd. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | ... These 24 Hours. Clear Weather, People & Carpenters variously "--" | employed clearing the Ship, Exercised the Guns. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday September 4th. 1780--_ +--------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours Modte. Weather. Winds from the Westwd. People Westy. | variously employed. Mr. Potter. Mid Orderd in Irons. by the Capt. | for a Thermometer being broke in his Cabbin ============================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday September 5th: 1780----_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours. Clear Weather, and Moderate Breezes from the Eastwd. | a Pilot came on board, took the Charge of the Ship, in Order to Easty--| carry her to the Isle of Groa', Sett the Top Sails, Cast off the | Moorings and went without Fort Louis, then set all Sail, made 3 or | 4 Tacks and Came to Anchor under Groa', Received on Board, 1 Cask | and a half of Brandy +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday September 6th.. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Moderate Breezes from the Southward, a Tumbling Swell Southy.| at 10 A M freshened the Hause, People variously employed on Sundry | Necessary Jobbs. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday September 7th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- --"-- | Begins with Clear Weather & fresh Gales from the Southward, Sent the | Yawl on Shore, for 2 Casks of Water, Struck Top Gallt Yards +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday September. 8th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Cloudy Weather, Showers, of Rain fresh Gales from the --"-- | So.ward Sent the Jolly Boat to L'Orient for Bread & Beef.. Sent up | Top Gallt. Yards. People variously Employed. about Sundry Jobbs +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday September 9th. 1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with fresh Gales from the Westward, sent the Boat for Water. Westy. | afterwards sent her to L'Orient, for Bread & Beef, Hove up the | Anchor, and let it go in 15 fathom Water, Dryd the Sails,--Latter | Part. Cleared the Decks. Handed Sails, Struck Top Gallt. Yards--the | Boat returned--with Beef & Bread. =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday September 10th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Cloudy Weather, and fresh Gales from the Northward Northy-| People variously employed, the Boat came off. with. Bread & Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday September 11th: 1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Moderate Weather.--Light Breezes from the Northward --"-- | Sent the Jolly Boat on Shore, for Bread & Beef. Struck Top Gallt | Yards the Jolly Boat came off,--with Beef & Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday September 12th. 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Moderate Weather, Clear, and Light Winds from the | Northwd. Hoisted out the Barge, and sent her to L'Orient, Loosed --"-- | Sails to Dry, at Noon Handed them, the Barge came off with Money | to pay the Wages. to the 16th. of March of the Officers & Men. of | the Late Bon Homme Richard, Struck Top Gallt. Yards +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday September 13th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with fresh Gales from the Southwd. Cloudy Weather, a Craft | came a long side. with 20 Casks of Water. and Releiving Takles --"-- | for the Gunner, filled up all the Water Casks, Employed Clearing the | Booms, and stowed the Barge, Sent the Jolly Boat on Shore for Beef | & Bread. +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday September 14th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Clear Weather, and Moderate Breezes from the Westward Westy. | People Employed making Points, and splicing the Larboard Cable, | the Jolly Boat returned. with Bread & Beef =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday September 15th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Cloudy Weather, and Moderate Breezes. the Jolly Boat Westy. | set out for L'Orient for Beef & Bread, People Employed variously +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday September 16th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with fresh Breezes of Wind, Westerly, Received on board the | following Stores Vizt. --"-- | 7 Casks of Brandy | 2 Cask of Hams | 3 Bales of Blankets | 3 Barrels of Flour | 8 Bags of Cheese | 1 Barrel of Pease | 9 Kegs of Pease | 1 Large Trunk | 9 Kegs of Butter | 2 Boxes of Candles | 32 Boxes of Wine | 1 Barrel of Brandy +=========================+============================================ | _Remarks on Sunday September 17th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with fresh Gales, and Showers of Rain, sent the Jolly Boat to | L'Orient at 10 A M Veered out to a whole Cable, and struck Top --"-- | Gallt. Masts, at 1 A M. Hoisted a Signal, and fired a Gun for a | Pilot at 3 a Pilot came on Board, from Groa'. at 4 veered to a | Cable & a Half, Latter part blowing fresh with Lightning, got up | the Lightning Rods +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday September. 18th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours Hazy Weather, Hove up the Anchor, found it Clear, | and let it go again, the Jolly Boat returned with Provisions, Heeled Vble | Ship and scrubbed under Water. Both Sides, Exercised the Great Guns. | sent the Jolly Boat to Town, for Beef & Bread---- =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Teusday September 19th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Fresh Breezes from NW. at Meridian the Jolly Boat NW | returned with Passengers and Provisions. Received on Board the | following Articles Vizt. | 6 Boxes of Wine | 1 Bale of Blankets | 1 Barrel of Rice | 4 Hhds of Charcoal | 10 do, of Jackets | 1 Box of Drafts | 2 Barrell Hozes | 16 Trunks & Boxes | 3 small Boxes | 1 Green Hide | 23 Hogs | 1 Large Box markd W. | 19 Sheep | 5 Trunks | | 2 Goats | 2 Large Cask | | 12 Hogs | 6 Bags of Hay | | 4 Bags of Oats | Fishing Lines & Hooks | | 6 Bags of Potatoes | Quantity of Twine | | 14 do. of Pease | Spun Yarn & Marline | | 5 do. of BuckWheat | & Cotton Yarn | +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday September 20th: 1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Heavy Gales from the Westward. Veered out a Cable Westy. | Cloudy and Heavy Showers of Rain, People variously Employed Rousing | up the Cables, and spliced them three on one End, and 2 on the | other, sent the Jolly Boat on Shore, Middle Part Clear, came on | Board a Number of Passengers +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday September 21st: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Moderate Breezes, from the Eastward, Hove in the Cable, Easty. | Clear Weather, the Jolly Boat came off with Beef & Bread. Drying | Sails, came on Board 2 Passengers with thier Baggage, =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday September 22nd: 1780_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Moderate Breezes from the Westward, the Jolly Boat Westy. | returned, with Provisions, Recd. by a Chace Marey. the following | Articles Vizt. | | | 3 Baskets Loaf Sugar | | 1 Cask of Wine | 3 Trunks P I | 3 Boxes Oyl or Wine | 10 do. of White Beans | 1 Box Window Glass | 12 Cask of Water | 1 do. of Hatts | 15 Hatts | 8 New Cotts | 8 Bales of Stops | 3 Kegs of Whiting | 1 Hhd Vinegar | 13 do. of Mattrasses | 1 Half Barrel | | 4 Hampers Bottled Beer,| 1 Jarr, | +=========================+=======================+==================== | _Remarks on Satarday September 23rd. 1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours begins with fresh Gales from the Eastward. Cloudy Easty. | Weather sent down Top Gallt. Yards. People Employed on Sundry Jobbs. | fired a Gun for all Capts. of Merchantmen to come on board. Served | out 3 Cotts +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday September 24th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Fresh Gales from the Westward, Came in a Fleet from Nantz, under Westy. | the Convoy of 4 Frigates, People variously Employed. Paid some | of the People a Months Pay. Served the Ships Company with Bedding +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Monday September 25th: 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with fresh Gales, from the Westward. People variously employed --"-- | the Latter Clear Weather & Light Winds. Expended 2 Cask of | Water 1. of Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday September 26th: 1780_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- Westy | The Fore Part of these 24 Hours fresh Gales from the Westward. People Northd.| variously Employed. Ends with Modte. Weather, Wind to the Northwd | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Wednesday September 27th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The Fore Part of these 24 Hours. Light Winds from the Northwd. Hove Norty. | Short a Peak, Loosed Fore Top Sail and fired a Gun. Came on Board | sundry Articles, for the Capt.. the Latter part veered away the Cable Westd. | Sent up Top Gallt. Yards. Received Bread & Beef. Ends with, Light | Breeze from the Wstwd +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday September 28th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The Fore part of these 24 Hours, fresh Gales from the Westward. --"-- | Veered to a whole Cable, sent the Jolly Boat to L'Orient. Exercised | the Cannon, People Necessary Employed. Ends Squally with Rain +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday September 29th. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | The Fore Part of these 24 Hours, fresh Gales from the Westward, at 8 --"-- | AM Veered to a Cable, and a Half. & Struck Top Gallt. Masts. the Middle | part, Showers of Rain, and Heavy Seas, People Necessary Employd | Expended 2 Casks of Water +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday September 30th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Showers of Rain, and Heavy Gales from the Westward --"-- | the Middle Part Clear Weather, Exercised the Great Guns. Expended | 2 Casks of Water. 1 Cask of Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Sunday October. 1st. 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with fresh Gales. from the Westward. with a Heavy Sea, the | Brigs of our Convoy, slipd their Cables, and went into Port Louis, --"-- | the Middle part a French Frigate & armed Brig Slipd and went in/ | Hoisted a Signal and fired a Gun for a Pilot. the Gale & Sea Increasing | with Heavy Squalls of Rain, Expended 2 Casks of Water =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Monday October. 2nd. 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Heavy Gales, and Clouds from the Westward, and a Heavy | Sea, Hoisted a Signal, and fired a Gun, every half Hour untill we | got a Pilot--the Gale abated, People Employed on Sundry Necessary Westwd-| Jobbs. about the Ship. Fired 2 Shott at a Brig that was under | American Colours, that went into Port Louis. Expended 2 Casks of | Water, & 1 of Beef Ends with Heavy Squalls of Rain +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday October 3rd. 1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours begins with Moderate Weather, and little Breezes of --"-- | Wind Hove up the Starboard Anchor, and let go the Larboard one, | Expended 276 lb. Beef +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Wednesday October 4th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fresh Breezes of Wind, and Moderate Weather, got | Top Gallt. Mast up and stowed the Starboard Anchor, at 4 P.M. --"-- | the Captain went on Shore, Hoisted out the small Boat, and sent | her to Groa' for Passengers +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday October 5th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours. Little Winds to the Northward, Hove Short at 4 Northwd.| sent the Boat for the Capt. at 9 she returned with the Capt. Received | from L'Orient. as follows. | 5 Marline Spikes | 12--6 Inch Blocks | 34 Brooms | 12--9 Inch Blocks | 4 Barrels of Pork | 3 Sides of Leather | 8 Barrels of Beef | 12 Hooks & Thimbles | 2 Casks of Wine | 1 Bolt of Canvas | 2 Casks of Brandy | 2 Kegs of Butter | 4 Barrels of Flour | 2 Bags of Onions | 1 Barrell of Oatmeal | 2 Boxes of Arms | 1 Cask of Suett | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Friday October, the 6th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours fresh Breezes of Wind to the Southwd. & Cloudy | Weather, Hove short in Order for getting under way, But the | Weather not proving favourable, veered out the Cable again struck Southd.| Top Gallt. Yards. Hoisted out the small Boat, and sent her on | board. the Merchantmen. with Signals. the Duke of Lienster. one | of our Fleet got under way. in Company with the Lugger, into | L'Orient +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday October 7th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours. fresh Breezes of Wind, and Cloudy Weather, Loosed "--"- | the Sails to Dry. Hoisted out the small Boat to send her to the | Isle of Groa' for Water, but before she got a Shore made a Signal | for her to return. ===+===+======+=========+========+====================================================== _H_|_K_|_[HK]_|_Courses_| _Winds_| _Remarks on Sunday October 8th. 1780--_ ---+---+------+---------+--------+------------------------------------------------------ 1| | | | | Begins with fine Pleasant Weather, fired a Gun, and 2| | | | | made a Signal for Sailing, Hove up. and stood off, 3| | | | | and fired several Guns. for a Brig and a Lugger, 4| | | | | to come out of Port. at 6 PM the Duke of Leinster, 5| | | | | came up with us, and spoke us as at 8 PM. did the 6| 1| 1 | SW | NW | Lugger. 7| 2| | West | NNW | 8| 2| | | | the West End. of the Island Groa' bore NNW 9| | | | | Let 2 Reefs out of the Top Sails, Sett Courses 10| | | | | and Stay Sails, Got up Top Gallt. Yards and sett Top 11| | | | | Gallt. Sails, 12| | | | | 1| | | | | 2| | | | | 3| | | | | 4| | | | | At 6 In Top Gallt. Sails, Halled down Staysails 5| | | | | At 7 AM Double Reefed, the Top Sails, Isle of Groa, 6| | | | | bearing NEBE: distt 6 Leagues 7| | | | | 8| 5| 1 | WSW. | South | At 9 Struck Top Gallt. Masts & Yards: Handed Top 9| 5| 1 | | | Sails & Jibb 10| 4| 1 | | | 11| 1| 1 | | | Ends with Heavy Gales 12| 1| 1 | | | No Observation-- ===+===+======+=========+========+====================================================== | _Remarks on Monday October 9th: 1780--_ ---+---+------+---------+--------+------------------------------------------------------ 1| 3 | 1 | WNW | SW | Begins with Heavy Gales. and a great Sea, shipped 2| 3 | 1 | | | much Water the Ship under her Courses. one of the 3| 3 | | | | Brigs in Sight. 4| 3 | 1 | | | 5| 4 | |WBN1/2N | SWBS | At 6 P.M. Wore Ship. Sounded 50 fathom Water. 6| 4 | | | | Housed the Guns 7| 2 | 1 | | | At 7. Down Fore Top Mast & Mizen Stay Sails, 8| 2 | 1 | NWBW | SWBW | Haulled up the Mizen 9| 2 | | SSE | SW | At 9 the Ship Water Logged, up Main Sail & Reefed 10| 2 | | SBE | | him At 10 Handed the Main Sail, the Gale still 11| 2 | | | | Increasing, sett the Chain Pumps to work, the Ship 12| 2 | | | | making much Water, at 1/2 Past 11 Handed the Fore Sail, 1| | | | | finding the Ship would not right let go the Lee Anchor, 2| | | | | in 40 fathom, and Cut away the Fore Mast at 2 AM. 3| | | | | the Gale Increasing, the Ship making much Water Cut 4| | | | | away Main & Mizen Masts, Hands Employed Pumping 5| | | | | and, Clearing the Rack,--the Ship then bringing 6| | | | | up and Riding to her Anchor, with a Heavy Sea,---- 7| | | | | 8| | | | | 9| | | | | 11| | | | | 12| | | | | ===+===+======+=========+========+====================================================== | _Remarks on Teusday October 10th: 1780--_ ---+---+------+---------+--------+------------------------------------------------------ 1| | | | | Begins with Clear Weather, and Heavy Gales from the 2| | | | | SW. and a Heavy Sea, Shipped much Water, the 3| | | | | Pumps constantly Employed, getting things ready, for 4| | | | | Jury Mast Got up a Jury Fore Mast, and Rigged the 5| | | | | Sail 6| | | | | Expended 2 Casks of Water. 1 of Pork-- 7| | | | | 8| | | | | 9| | | | | 10| | | | | 11| | | | | 12| | | | | 1| | | | | 3| | | | | 4| | | | | 5| | | | | 6| | | | | 7| | | | | 8| | | | | 9| | | | | 10| | | | | 11| | | | | 12| | | | | =======+====================================================================== _Winds_| _Remarks on Wednesday October 11th: 1780--_ -------+---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Squally Weather, & Rain with Heavy Seas. Shipped much | Water, Rigged a Pair of Sheers, for a Jury Mizen Mast, and a Yard | athwart them. Bent a Stay Sail & Jibb. at 12 AM. Cut the Cable | and got under way. and stood off WSW. at 4 AM Kept her away ESE. At | 8 AM. EBN. at 10 made the Island of Groa, bearing ENE. Distance. 6 or | 7 Leagues, stood in for it---- | Expended. 2 Casks of Pork,---- +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Thursday October 12th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | Begins with Moderate Weather, the Winds from the NW. At 1 PM. | Hoisted a Signal, and fired several Guns for a Pilot at 4 P.M got one NW. | off from Groa' at 6 P.M Came to an Anchor in 13 fathom of Water, under | the Isle of Groa, the Middle and latter part pleasant Weather +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Friday October 13th: 1780--_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- | These 24 Hours, at 12 Hove up the Anchor, and got under Sail, at 5 | PM. Came to an Anchor, in the Harbour, of L'Orient. in 5 fathom Water SW | Moored the Ship, with the Pilots Stream Anchor, and Cable, and our | own Bower Anchor, getting out Boats and Clearing Ship | Recd fresh Beef and Bread +====================================================================== | _Remarks on Satarday October 14th: 1780----_ +---------------------------------------------------------------------- Southd.| These 24 Hours, begins with fresh Breezes from the Southward. People | variously Employed.--the Pilot, came and took up his Stream Anchor, Eastd--| and Carried out our Sheet Anchor. Ends with Pleasant Weather. | Winds from the Eastward, Received fresh Beef & Bread APPENDICES APPENDIX A. Copies of the Remarks in the Log Book of the _Bon Homme Richard_, now in the possession of the Selkirk family. _Remarkes on Wednessday. Sept the 22 1779_ This 24 hourses Begins with a Litte Brieze of wind and Showry weather att 3 PM saw a Sail and att 4 PM Took him at 1/2 peast 4 took him in tow and att 6 P.M saw a flet of 16 Sailes Larg and Small Signleled the prize and Cast him off and made a Signel and made sail after them the peallice gave Chace to on that was to Leeward and the Veangence come with us att 7. P M Lost Sitte of them and att 8 got Sitte of on and gave Chace and att 9 tak Ship att 11 P M Cam up with the Chace so near as to give hire a gun and fired a nomber of gunes att hire But Sh Did not Bring too att wore Ship and spid a Sail ahead which was the Veangance att 1/2 peast 12 saw a Sail and att 1 a m Spok with him & She proved to Be a Bridg from otterdam we hoisted out the Small Boat and Sent an offsir and 2 hands to take Charge of here and 2 hands to fich the Boat and prissoners a Bord and mad Sail att 8 a m Cald all hands to Quarters Saw a Ship in Shore hoisted a jack att the fore top galmast head for a poilot att 9 we saw 2 poilot Bots aComing att 10 one Borded us att 1/2 peast 10 the other Borded the prise we mand first Boat and Sent to the prise and Brought the other aBord _Remarkes on Thursday Sept the 23: 1779_ This 24 Hourses Begins with a Litte Breze of wind and Raniey weather the wind Vearible Att 4 P. M toek the Littel Sloop pulot in tow att healef peast to sent Shooneur pilot Boat to go a Bord of the prise Bridg to sink hir But seeing hir make Sail for the Land hald the Boat to Come Beack att 1/2 Peast 5 the Boat got a Long Sid and we took hir in tow a Stairn of the other att 6PM Spirean Littes Bor W N W Distance 6 Leagues att 1/2 peast 11 P M Saw two Sailes att 1 A. M Cald all hands att 2 A M all to Quearters att 1/2 peast 2 hoistd 3 Littes 1 fowd 1 amid Shipes & 1 afte att 3/4 peast 2 hoistd 2 more Leites att the mirzon peak Laid the m & mison top Sailes to the mast the Sailes Shod a Litte att 4 wore Ship att 5 A M hisde a Chuckerd flag att the mezin peak att 1/2 peast 5 found them to Be the Elliance and pealaice two of our Cone Sortes or twoo of our flete _Remarks on Friday 24th.. September 1779_ The First part of this twenty four Hours clear and Pleasant Weather with Moderate Breeses of Wind---- At 3 P.M. sent the small Schooner with Mr. Lunt and A Number of Marines in her to Board a =Schooner= Brigg to the Windward of us at 1/2 past Do. the Alliance hove out a Signal and bore away we immediately fir'd a gun for the Schooner to give over Chase and kept away---- at 4 sett Steering Sails fore and aft (in Chase of two Ships) At 6 P.M. Hoisted a Blue flag Blue Pendant & a Blue & Yellow Flag At 1/2 past Do. came up with the largest Ship and engaged her; the Alliance engag'd the small Ship which soon struck. Att 8 A.M. the Alliance came under our stern and Rak'd us fore & aft. She then shot just ahead of us and did the like again, we were all this time closely engag'd with our Antagonist lying so near each other that our Yard Arms was within her's; at 10 P.M. She Struck her Colours and prov'd to be the Searuppus of 44 Guns soon after She Struck her Main Mast fell over her side. The People employed in putting fire out that had catch'd in several parts of the Ship & in Pomping for we were very near sinking; The Ship that the Alliance Took prov'd to be the Scarborough of 20 Guns EDITOR'S NOTE: The foregoing are copies of the entries or Remarks in "A Log Book for the Ship Bon Homme Richard, the Honorible John Paul Jones Commander begun at L'Orient Saturday, 8th of May 1779," of which a typewritten copy is in the Navy Department Library, and the original is supposed to be now in the possession of the Selkirk family at St. Mary's Isle. Facsimiles of the three Remarks of the 22nd, 23rd, and 24th of September are also in the Navy Department Library. The entries of the 22nd and 23rd are in the _same_ handwriting, and of similar orthography, as are the preceding Remarks in that log. The handwriting of the Remarks on Friday the 24th is that of Lieut. Henry Lunt, who also wrote the Remarks on the same day in the _Serapis'_ log book. There are no entries in the column of Knots, F., Courses, Wind, for which the pages are ruled, for those days. If this log was the regular Ship's Journal, it is remarkable that it should have been kept by a man whose handwriting and orthography were so bad as to be decipherable with difficulty. That the record of the transactions on the eventful 24th day of September on the _Richard_ and _Serapis_ and the following days should have been delegated to Lieutenant Lunt and Midshipman Groube seems to have been thought desirable by some one in authority. APPENDIX B. Copy of a Letter from Captain James Nicholson to Captain John Barry, Commanding U. S. Frigate _Alliance_. Philada. June 24th 1781.-- _Dr. Barry_, After congratulating you on your safe arrival and success, I shall without any apoligy relate to you what has been Transacting in this Quarter relative to rank for this week past, it still hangs over our head & requires every Exertion of Interest to prevent its taking place. The Attempt has been bold & Daring and is only equaled by the man who made it. The Chevalier ever since his arrival in this City has devoted his time, privately, by making personal application to the Individual members of Congress to give him rank at the head of our Navy, and after Interesting (by being an accomplished Courtior), every member who was week, or of his own stamp in his favor, hands into Congress a Narritive of his services from the beginning of time containing the best part of a Quire of paper, and attended with a modest petition seting forth the injustice he had done him in the Establishment of rank and desire of redress &ca. This had the desired effect, and he had a Committee of Congress consistg. of Genl. Vernon, Mr. Mathews & Mr. Clymer appointed to enquire into his Claim and to make report, they accordingly did and in his favor. Congress was upon the point of taking the report up, and I have too much reason to believe woud have gratified the hight of his ambition had we not by the greatest accident discovered it, this was done by information a member of Congress gave Mrs. Reade in whose house he lived, he was also on the most familiar terms with myself, so far he had proceeded without the least suspisian on our side. As soon as I was informed of it, I immediately took my Hat and with very little Ceremony waited on the President of Congress at his house, & informed what I had heard, he received me politely & told me my suspisians was just, I therefore desired as my right that Congress might delay determining on it untill Cap. Reade & myself in behalf of ourselves & the absent brother officers equally concerned, should have an opportunity of being heard, which he promised me his Interest to have done, and that day Cap. Reade & myself threw in our remonstrance to Congress a Copy of mine you have Enclosed, the Consequence of which was the Committee was ordered to reconsider it and to give us notice to attend, we according did & found Cap. Jones without doors in conferance with two of them, Cap. Jones did not attend, I desired the Chairman would send for him, the reason I assigned was that I would say many things in his presence that I would not in his absence, he sent word that he would wait on us but never came, we found the President & Mr. Mathews predetermined in his favor, but Mr. Climer otherwise, after pointing out the absurdity of his claim which proceeded from a Brevial from Commodore Hopkins to the Command of the Sloop Providence were from his own claim, Capts. Whipple, Hallock, yourself, & Alexander where Capts. before him. I say after pointing out this to them, the Presidt. appeared to be convinced, but if so in reality I wont pretend to say. We had a good deal of conversation with the Committee, Mr. Mathews alone seemed his most strenious advocate and in my oppinion behaved obstinate & ungentiel. I said many things pretty severe of the Chevaliers private as well as Public Carrector too odious to mention and yet unnoticed, upon the whole we acquited ourselves well. It happened five days ago and they have not yet made their report. Should it be in his favor again, I have some reason to believe the honest part as well as those who had been imposed on from their ignorance about our Naval Transactions and the method of Establishing rank, are now sufficiently alarmed, and should the report be taken up at all, they will not determine in his favor. Your arrival & success came very opportunily and I did not fail to make use of it I mean outdoors in presence of Cap. Jones & some of his advocated Members, by observing that you had acquit yourself well, which they acknowledged. I then told them they could not do less than make you Admiral also. I had not a sentense of reply. it irritated the Chevalier so much that he was obliged to decamp. I yesterday was informed by a Member of Congress a friend of mine that they had received a letter from Bob Morris (The Financier) that he would undertake to Fitt out immediately my Ship & the 74 and if they agreed to it, there would be a necessity for appointing a Cap. to her immediately, and at the same time asked if I would accept of the Command of her. I refused but at the same time pointed out the necessity of the next Senior officer having the offer & so down, and in case none of them would accept untill it came to Chevalier that then he should have the offer he seemed convinced from the arguments I made use of of the Necessity of this mode as the only one that would give satisfaction and make our Navy of repute. How it will opperate with Congress I cant undertake to determine. I also let him understand that you was already appointed to her. I have very good reason to believe that Bob Morris' views are solely to serve him, but be that as it may, he has my consent, as I am convinced he will never get her to sea. It will suit his Vanity & only tend to expose himself and his friends in Congress. I have now 120 men onbd., and as Bob Morris has undertaken to supply us with money expect to get to sea in a fortnight. I now conclude with assuring you I remain Yrs most sincerely Jas. Nicholson. To His Excellency. the Presidt. & the Honble. the Members of the United States in Congress Assembled. The Memorial of Jas. Nicholson, Cap. in the Navy of the United States Respectfully Shewith, That your Memorialist has by accident been informed that the Chevalier Paul Jones hath Petitioned Congress & in consequence thereof a Committee has been appointed and are now actually siting for the Purpose of considering his claim of Prior Rank to your Memorialist, and as your Memorialist conceives any alteration in the rank of the Navy as at present established will be doing him a very sensible injury he begs leave to call the recollection of Congress to their resolves of the 17th Ap. & the 10th Ocbr. of 76 by the latter of which the rank of every Cap. or Commander in the Navy was established. Your Memorialist therefore prays that Congress will not deprive him of the rank he has always held in the Navy of the United States without a sufficient cause (which he presumes does not exist) as it will convey to the Public at large a suspisian that your Memorialist has forfeited that rank with which he has been so long honored by some misconduct. As your Memorialist has not been informed, certainly, upon what particular grounds Cap. Jones founds his Claims of Prior Rank, your Memorialist can only refer to the above mentioned Solemn Acts of Congress which sets forth the rank that Honble. body fixed for every Cap. & Commdr. in the Navy. Your MemorIt. has good reason to suppose it must be from his Early Service should that be the Case. Your Memorialist begs leave to observe what in his oppinion would be the Absurdity of Cap. Jones' claims viz; That two of your Memorists. Lieutts. now under his immediate Command onbd. the Trumbull would take the Commd. from your Memorits. & will every Capn. Lieutt. that where in the Commodrs. fleet. If it is thought necessary or proper to call the Congress from their more Important business, your Memorits. has prepared and will furnish a history of his services as a Public Off. prior to the Establishment of rank, but he presumes that it is not necessary and depends upon the Justice & Candor of Congress. Your Memorilst. therefore begs leave to subscribe himself with profond respect & Esteem yr. Excellency, most obedt. Humble. Servt. &ca. JAS. NICHOLSON EDITOR'S NOTE: Captain John Barry, to whom this letter was written, was then in command of the _Alliance_, lying in Boston Harbor. He had just returned from an eventful voyage to L'Orient, having taken Colonel John Laurens to France as Special Commissioner of the United States. APPENDIX C. Copy of Letter from Jones to Commodore Ezekiel Hopkins. The Honble. E. Hopkins Esquire Admiral of the American Fleet Rhode Island. P the Brig Sea Nymph Capt. W. Hopkins. Providence, at Sea in No Latd 37°. 40' and W. Longd. 54° Septr. 4th. 1776-- _Honoured Sir_ I know you will not suspect me of flattery when I affirm that I have not experienced a more sincere pleasure for a long time past than the account I have had of your having gained your cause at Philadelphia in spite of party.--Your late trouble will tend to your future advantage; by pointing out your friends & Enemies you will be thereby enabled to retain the one part while you guard against the other.----You will be thrice welcome to your Native Land and to your nearest concerns--after your late shock they will see you, as Gold from the Fire, of more worth and Value, and Slander will learn to keep silence when Admiral Hopkins is mentioned, but enough of this. And now for my success--I sent in a Nantucket Whailer by Captn. Grinnele 27th. Ulto.--She appeared by the voluntary testimony of the master mate &ca to be the property of Rank Tories who had ordered their Oil to be Carried to the London Market and the amot. of it to be ship't out in English goods to Nantucket. Since that time I have been further to the Southward when I brought too a number of French Spanish & Danish Ships--but saw no Englishmen 'till the first Currt. when I fell in with five Sail--one of them being very large we took her to be either an Old East Indiaman or a Jamaica three Decker--but she proved to be an English Frigate Mounting twenty six Guns upon one Deck--She sailed fast and pursued us by the wind 'till after four hours Chase, the sea running Very Cross, she got within Musquit Shot of our Lee Quarter--as they had continued firing at us from the first _without showing Colours_ I was angery at this low piece of Conduct therefore ordered ours to be hoisted and began to fire at them--they then hoisted American Colours and fired Guns to leeward--but the bait would not take for having everything prepared I bore away across his forefoot and set all our light sails at once so that before her sails were trimmed and Steering-sails set I was almost out of reach of Grape & soon after out of reach of Cannon Shot.--Our "Hairbreadth Scape" and the saucy manner of making it must have mortified him not a little--had he foreseen this motion and been prepared to counteract it he might have fired several Broadsides while we were within pistol shot--but he was a bad marksman and did not hit the Providence with one of the many shot which he fired.--I met with no other adventure 'till last night when I took the Brigantine Sea Nymph bound from Barbados for London with a Cargo of two hundred and twenty seven Hogsheads of Rum besides Oil Sugar Ginger and Madeira Wine--- I understand by this Brig that the A. Doria is off Bermuda and that Captn. Weeks hath given a trimming to an English sloop of war off Martinico.---- I am too late for West Indiamen but will not yet give up hopes--I am much afraid that the Store Ships come out under Convoy for who would have expected to find a Frigate with no more than two Ships a Brig & a Sloop. If I meet with further success I will write you in Course in the meantime I rest assured that your good offices will not be wanting in my favour when the Navy Rank and Seniority comes to be Settled--if I was worthy of the Rank of Eldest Lieutenant of the Fleet I deserve not to be superseded in favour of any person who then bore an inferior or Juniour Commission. It will be good policy if the Congress or Marine Committee fix the Parity of Rank between land and sea Officers as it is on the English Establishment Vizt. An Admiral ranks with a General a Vice Adml with a Lieun. Genl. a Rear Adml. with a Major Genl. a Commodore with with a Brigadeer Genl. a Captain with a Colonel a Master & Commander with a Lieut. Colo, a Lieut. Commanding with a Major & a Lieutenant in the Navy with a Captain of Foot or Marines--this would prevent numberless disputes and deuelings which otherwise will be unavoidable--but I remember that this agrees with your own opinion and therefore I need use no argument to enforce it.--my best wishes and respects await yourself and Family and I am with much Esteem and grateful Respect Honoured Sir Your very Obliged and most humble Servt. JNO. P. JONES EDITOR'S NOTE: In a letter to Mr. Hewes, dated January 12, 1777, Jones, in speaking of Hopkins, writes of the latter calling himself a Commodore, "this _Commodore_ is altogether unfit to command a Frigate of thirty-two Guns." See Calendar of Jones Manuscripts, Library of Congress, pp. 15-16, 20-22. APPENDIX D. Copy of Letter Addressed by Jones to John Wendell, Esqr., Portsmouth, N. H. Ranger, Nantes 11th Decr. 1777. _My dear Sir_, The Ranger was wafted by the Pinions of the gentlest, and most friendly Gales, along the Surface of the Blue profound of Neptune; and not the swelling bosom of a Friend's nor even of an _Enemis Sail_, appeared within our placid Horizon, untill after we had passed the Everlasting Mountains of the Sea, (called Azores) whoe's Tops are in the Cloud's, and whoe's Foundations are in the Center. When lo! this Italeyon Season was interrupted! the "gathering Fleets o'erspread the Sea" and Wars alarms began! nor ceased day or night untill, aided by the mighty Boreus, we cast anchor in this Asylum the 2d Currt. but since I am not certain that my Poetry will be understood, it may not be amiss to add, _by way of marginal note_, that after leaving Portsmouth nothing remarkable happened untill I got to the Eastward of the Western Islands; and that from that time untill my arrival here, I fell in with Ships every day sometimes every Hour; within Eighty Leagues of Ushant, I met with an Enemies fleet of Ten Sail bound up Channel, but notwithstanding my best endeavours, I was unable to detach any of them from the strong Convoy under which they sailed, I met with and brought too a variety of other Ships, none whereof proved British Property, except two Brigantines from Malaga with Fruit for London, which became Prizes, the one is arrived here, the other I am told in Quiberon Bay; as I have met with and brought too several Ships in the Night, I had the most agreeable Proofs of the Active Spirit of my Officers and Men. I have forwarded my dispatches to Paris, by Express, and determine not to go myself unless I am sent for. I understand that in Obedience to Orders from the Secret Committee the Commissioners had, some time ago, provided One of the finest Frigates for me that can be imagined, calculated for Thirty-two, Twenty four Pounders, on one deck, and longer than any Ship in the Enemies Fleet; but that it has been found necessary to give her up, on account of some difficulties which they have met with at Court. My Heart glows with the most fervent Gratitude for this, and every other unsolicited and unexpected instance of the favo'r and Approbation of Congress; and if a Life of Services devoted to the Interests of America, can be made Instrumental in securing its Independance; I shall be the happiest of Men, and regard the continuance of such Approbation, as an Honor far superiour to the empty Peagantry, which Kings ever had Power to bestow. I esteem your Son as a promising and deserving young Man, I have just now had some Conversation with him, and am much Pleased with his diffidence and Modesty, he would not he says accept of a Commission untill he thinks himself equal to the duty of the office of Lieutenant; there I think he shows a true Spirit; in the mean time, he tells me that he is perfectly satisfy'd with his present Situation, anything within my Power to render his Situation happy and Instructive, shall not be wanting. I must rely on you to make my best Compliments receptable to the fair Miss Wendell, and to the other agreeable Ladies of my acquaintance in Portsmouth. The Captain of the Raleigh I understand is well, and has lately been figuring it away at Paris, whereof please to acquaint my _Sister_ Officer. I should be exceedingly happy to hear from you, but as my destination depends on what I am to hear from the Commissioners, I cannot at Present give you my Address, but will drop you another, How do you do, shortly. I am with Sentiments of Respect & Regard, My dear Sir, Your Obliged, very Obedient, most humble Servant, JNO. P. JONES _John Wendell_, Esqr. Portsmouth---- EDITOR'S NOTE: In the Calendar of Jones Manuscripts in the Library of Congress, pp. 31-32, are several letters from John Wendell to Jones dated Oct., 1777. Mr. Wendell was a merchant and Justice of the Peace at Portsmouth, N. H. APPENDIX E. Fanning's Account of an Entertainment Given by Jones on the _Ariel_. Possibly the date is wrong. It may be that recorded in the _Ariel's_ log on "September 2nd. 1780----" About the tenth of December Great preparations were made on board of our ship in consequence of a great number of people of the first characters in L'Orient. One prince of the blood royal, and three French admirals, with some ladies of the first quality, having had cards of invitation sent them by captain Jones, inviting them on board of his ship the next day to take dinner with him precisely at 3 o'clock in the afternoon; and also informing the company that captain Jones would in the evening of that day, on board of his ship, exhibit to them a sham sea fight; and that it should in part represent his battle with the Serapis, particularly her tops. To go through with a minute detail of all and every circumstance that related to this scene would, I fear, tire the patience of the reader; I shall therefore be as concise as possible in my relation of this exhibition. First then, all the boats belonging to our ship were busily employed with their respective crews from the time the approaching scene was known on board, (which was the day before it was to take place, at ten o'clock in the morning, till about twelve at night on the day on which the company were to dine, in passing to and coming from the shore, bringing off all the articles wanted. And the reader may rest assured that neither cash nor pains were spared in order that the scene every way should appear magnificent. In a short time our quarter-deck had the appearance of a lady of qualitie's drawing-room. Over head was suspended an elegant awning, the edges of which were cut in scollops, and decorated with a variety of silk roses, tassils, &c. from a little below the awning: at the sides were hung thin canvass lined with pink coloured silk, and which fell down so as to reach the quarter-deck. These sides were hung with a great variety of French pictures and looking glasses; some of the first had been drawn by one of the most finished artists in France, and many of which were quite indecent, especially to meet the eyes of a virtuous woman. However, in these days they made a part of French etequette on such an occasion. The quarter-deck of our ship was covered with the most elegant carpets, the plate alone which was made use of on this singular occasion was estimated to be worth two thousand guineas (for my own part I believe it might have been rated at double that sum.) French cooks, and waiters or servants, were brought from the shore to assist in this business and for nearly twenty hours preceding the serving up of dinner, we were almost suffocated with garlick and onions, besides a great many other stinking vegetables. A French lady (who was said to be a great connossieur in the art of cookery, and in hanging and arranging pictures in a room where the first companies went to dine) was gallanted on board by captain Jones the evening before the day on which the company were to dine, and was by him directed to take upon herself the superintendance of the approaching feast. The next day was ushered in by thirteen guns, and the dressing of the ship with the thirteen stripes, and the colours of all nations who were friendly to the United States. Captain Jones and his officers were all dressed in uniform, with their best bib and band on, and we were directed by captain Jones to conduct ourselves with propriety and to pay implicit obedience to my _lady superintendant_ of the ceremonies. At a quarter before 3 o'clock in the afternoon the ship's boats (three in number, each having a midshipman who acted for this time as cockswains; and the men who rowed the boats were all neatly dressed in blew broad cloth, with the American and French cockades in their hats,) were dispatched on shore to bring on board the company. Jones received them as they came up the ship's side and conducted them to their seats on the quarter-deck with a great deal of ease, politeness, and good nature.[30] Dinner was served up at half past 3 P.M. The company did not rise from table till a little after the sun set, when captain Jones ordered his first lieutenant to cause all hands to be called to quarters, which was done just before the moon was rising. I of course, mounted into the main top, which had always been my station as long as I had served under Jones (of which and the men at quarters there, I had the command.) Orders were given before we mounted into the tops that we must be well supplied with ammunition blunderbusses, muskets, cowhorns, hand granadoes, &c. The same as if we were now to engage with an enemy; and when the signal was given (which was to be a cannon fired upon the fore-castle, and as soon as the gun was fired, the sham fight was to commence.) At 8 o'clock it began, and lasted about one hour and a quarter without any intermission. Such a cracking of great guns, swivels, small arms, cowhorns, blunderbusses, &c. such a hissing and poping of hand granadoes, stink pots, powder flasks, was now heard as they fell into the water alongside, as was never the like in the harbour of L'Orient, seen or heard. Some of the ladies were much frightened, and the sham fight would have continued longer had it not been that some of them intreated captain Jones to command the firing to cease. The fight over, a band of music which had been ordered on board by the commandant, and who had been paraded upon the fore part of the quarter-deck, now played their part, and all was glee and harmony. At about twelve at night the company took their leave of captain Jones, and the boats set them safe on shore, in the same order and regularity as they came on board, excepting a few who were landed _half seas over_; these the midshipmen assisted along to their lodgings, and returned on board to give an account to captain Jones that we saw all the company safe at their respective places of abode. For several days after this nothing of any note was to be heard in conversation among the French at L'Orient, in their coffee houses and private dwellings, but captain Jones's feast and sham fight. Upon the whole, I believe it must have cost himself as well as the United States a vast sum of money. There was certainly a great quantity of powder burnt, and an abundance of wine (besides other liquors) drank. The cost of the whole of this entertainment, including the powder, amounted (by an estimate made by the American agent's first clerk, and who it seems paid the cash for sundry bills relative to this business, to 3,027 crowns at 6s. 8d. each, Massachusetts currency.) Whether captain Jones charged the whole or any part of the expences of this business to the United States I never learned. [Footnote 30: The company was superbly dressed, and the prince was distinguished from the rest by a brilliant star which he wore upon his left breast.] APPENDIX F. The Continuation and End of the Voyage of the _Ariel_ to the United States. As the Journal of the _Ariel_ ends on the 14th day of October, 1780, a brief account of her voyage to the United States, gathered from the Biographies of Jones, may not be out of place. Jones continued to prolong his stay at L'Orient more than two months from the time of his putting back dismasted, and again received the remonstrances of Franklin for the expenses incurred in the refitting of the ship. The arms destined for our army were so much damaged that they were discharged and abandoned. During this period of delay, Jones was much of his time in Paris, and beguiled his time in giving elegant entertainments on his ship, one of which is recorded in the log on the 2d day of September; the one given on or about the 10th of December is described by Fanning, Appendix E. Fanning left the _Ariel_ immediately after this entertainment, and soon after took command of the privateer _Eclipse_, sailing out of Dunkirk. The _Ariel_ sailed from L'Orient on the 18th of December, bound for Philadelphia, and had an eventful voyage. Owing to the lumbered condition of his ship, Jones was not particularly anxious to meet the enemies' cruisers. A conspiracy was discovered amongst the English part of the crew, to take the ship, to defeat which the officers and passengers prepared to defend themselves. Jones followed an unfrequented track, taking the southern passage along the edge of the trade winds. When in latitude 26°, near the meridian of Barbados, a large sail was discovered, apparently a cruiser, from which Jones endeavored to escape, but failed. The ships came close alongside, both displaying English colors. A conversation ensued, and the stranger proved to be a British ship named _Triumph_. A sharp action took place within pistol shot, when the _Triumph_ struck her colors, and cried for quarter, but the _Triumph_, having got on the weather bow of the _Ariel_, made all sail and escaped. The _Triumph_ was undoubtedly a privateer, not a King's ship. After this action, twenty of the ringleaders in the plot to get possession of the ship were identified, and put in irons. No further incidents of note occurred, and the _Ariel_reached Philadelphia on the 18th of February, 1781. APPENDIX G. Fanning's Account of the Storm which Wrecked the _Ariel_. On the 7th of October, 1780, we set sail from this port for the United States in the Ariel, at about 6 P.M. and at the time we had under our convoy fourteen sail of American vessels, among which were three letters of marque, with the wind blowing a leading gale, at E.S.E. At 10 P.M. the wind shifted suddenly into the W.S.W and blew a heavy gale--took in top gallant sails, and close reefed our top sails--soon after took in our topsails and reefed our courses, and we carried them as long as the ship would bear them. The night was very dark, and we lost sight of the fleet. We were obliged to carry some sail in order to weather the _Pin Marks_, a long range of sunken rocks about a league from the land, and which we judged to be to leeward of us. At midnight we were obliged to hand our courses, as it blew so violent that we could not suffer a single yard of canvass. The ship at the same time lay in a very dangerous situation, nearly upon her beam ends, and in the trough of the sea, and leaked so bad that with both chain pumps constantly going we could not keep her free. Some French soldiers which we had on board, and who were stationed at the cranks of the pumps, let go of them, crossed themselves, and went to prayers. They were driven from this by the officers to the cranks again; and it became necessary to lift hangers over their heads, and threaten them with instant death if they quit their duty, or if they did not work with all their strength; without this they would again leave off and go to prayers. Soon after, one of our chain pumps got choked in such a manner that it would deliver no water. Jones in all this time shewed a great presence of mind, and kept, with his own hands, sounding with the deep sea lead; and finding that we were shoaling water very fast, and that we should in a short time be upon the Pin Marks, without something was soon done to prevent it. In this extremity a consultation of captain Jones and his principal officers was had upon the quarter-deck, and the result was, that orders were given for cutting away our fore-mast and letting go the sheet anchor; and the latter was executed without loss of time. We sounded now in thirty-five fathoms of water. The sheet cable was now paid out to the better end; but she did not look to her anchor; another cable was spliced to the first, and paid out to the better end; she did not yet bring up; the third cable was also spliced to the end of the second; when after paying out about seven eighths of this last, and the fore-mast cut away at the same time, and when it had fell over board to the leeward, the ship brought to and rid head to the wind, and the sea now run mountains high.[31] By the time of which I am now speaking we had not less than three hundred fathoms of cable paid out--in a few minutes after the ship brought to to her anchor. The ship laboured so hard, rolled so deep, and would bring up so sudden that it sprung our main-mast just below our gun-deck, and as this was now in the greatest danger of being ripped up, orders were given to cut away the main-mast above the quarter-deck, which was immediately carried into execution; and when this fell over the side to leeward it forced off the head of the mizzen-mast. By this time, we had freed the ship of water, but when her masts were gone her motion was so quick and violent that the most expert seamen on board could not stand upon their legs, neither upon the quarter-deck nor fore-castle without holding on to something. The chain pump which had been choked was cleared, and notwithstanding the gale kept increasing, yet our anchor and cables held on so well, that some faint hopes were now entertained that our lives would be spared: however, the gale did not abate much until the morning of the 9th. At meridian of this day the wind had abated so much that we began to get up and rig our jury masts. At 4 P.M. we had them erected and rigged, and what spars and sails we could muster upon them; and there being at this time but a moderate breeze at about W.N.W, a fair wind for L'Orient, and the sea tolerable smooth, we hove in our cables till it was short apeak, and then exerted ourselves every way we could think of in order to purchase our anchor, and after trying a long time without being able to weigh it, orders were given by captain Jones to save all we could of the cable and then cut it away, which was done and we made sail for L'Orient, where we soon after arrived and came to anchor. Many of our friends now came on board to see us, and appeared to be rejoiced at our safe escape, as they said, they expected we were lost, as the late gale was very violent and did a great deal of damage even in the harbour, among the shipping and along side of the keys. [Footnote 31: This was in the Bay of Biscay.] APPENDIX H. Fanning's Account of the Taking Possession of the _Alliance_ by Landais. Great alterations were now made by the carpenters on board of the Alliance frigate in almost every part of the ship, which put the United States to a vast and unnecessary expence. However, Jones was no so well suited with the command of her that he would have everything done and altered to please his fancy on board of her; not I presume, regarding what it cost, only as a secondary consideration. The Alliance was however ready for sea by the middle of June, 1780, and only waited for a wind to proceed to America. About this time we heard that captain L----, who had commanded this ship, had arrived in L'Orient, but it seems he went about that place incog. He soon, notwithstanding this, came publicly forward upon the stage and acted the part of a leading character as follows: One day, (I think it was the 23d of June) at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, captain Jones's officers (who were not then on shore) were below at dinner, and captain Jones had gone on shore to dine with the commandant of that place. L---- 's officers at this time were nearly all upon the quarter-deck (being no doubt in the plot) of which the first knowledge we (who were down below) had of it, we heard above three loud huzzas. Such a sudden manoeuver surprised us, and we got upon the quarter-deck as soon as our legs could carry us. Here L---- was walking fore and aft with a paper in his hand, and the yards were manned. He immediately gave orders to Mr. Diggs, formerly first lieutenant to him, to cause all captain Jones's officers to come upon the deck as he had something to say to them. They were all mustered accordingly, and as soon as they made their appearance; he, holding his commission in his hand at the same time, addressed them in nearly the following words: 'Here, you see gentlemen, the commission that the Congress did give me (as he did not speak very good English) for this frigate, and you see I now command her; and that there is no man in France who has a right to take this commission from me: therefore, gentlemen, all you who do not acknowledge me to be captain of this ship you must directly to the shore go, taking with you your baggage and every thing which belongs to you.' Accordingly, there was no other alternative left us but to obey these orders; so that all the officers who had served on board of the Good Man Richard under capt. Jones were forced to leave the Alliance, excepting one or two who chose to remain on board. However, L---- forbid any of the crew quitting her. The Alliance in about three quarters of an hour after this, with the assistance of part of the crews of several men of war then lying in the harbour, unmoored her, made sail, passed the citadel without molestation, and came to anchor under the Isle of Groix, without gun shot of any of the French fortifications. Jones being on shore when this singular manoeuver took place, and not hearing any thing of it till the Alliance was safe at anchor, as I just observed. Never, I am confident, was a man so dreadfully enraged. His passion knew no bounds; and in the first paroxism of his rage he acted more like a mad man than a conqueror. However, as he now saw that he was out-generaled by L---- his sworn enemy, he at length became more calm. The French commandant, at whose table he was sitting when he heard this news, offered him all the assistance in his power, and he appeared to entertain some hopes of getting the Alliance again into his possession. For this purpose he obtained leave of the commandant and French general, to possess himself of a row galley then lying at the key, and which mounted 2 eighteen pounders forward and one abaft, rowed with sixteen oars, and was rigged with latine sails. He was also furnished for this expedition with three hundred (if I am not mistaken) French troops, who were partly embarked on board of the row galley, and the rest on board of boats. Jones flattered himself that this force was able to take the Alliance; and besides, he did not much expect that captain L----, nor his officers and crew, would make any resistance. He required all his old officers who had served under him, to join and lend their assistance in this Don Quixote undertaking; but they all declined having any thing to do with or acting in this affair, excepting one of his lieutenants, who, had the honour of commanding this expedition. He (Jones) very prudently declined embarking, which in my opinion he ought to have done. In that case I have no doubt but all his officers would have resigned their lives with him. Every thing being in readiness, the little squadron moved out of the harbour wearing American and French colours, and proceeded on towards the Isle of Groix, where the Alliance was at anchor. The captain of which,[32] sent a flag with a message to the commander of the expedition the purport of which was, that 'If they came within the reach of his cannon he would sink them.'[33] The little fleet then lay upon their oars a few minutes, after which they turned tail and returned back into port no wiser than when they set out upon this wonderful expedition. Jones, upon seeing them return without taking the Alliance was so enraged that he could hardly contain himself for some time. He swore bitterly--he stamped--he cursed, and grew almost frantic with rage. Three French ships of the line were lying in the harbour at this time, and Jones with the help of the commandant, endeavored to prevail with the French admiral to send out one or two of those ships, (which had their sails bent and were ready for sailing,) in order to force the Alliance to return back to port. But the admiral refused, and told captain Jones that he should not interfere in the quarrel between him and captain L----. Besides, he assured captain Jones that it was more than his commission was worth, taking his head into the bargain, for him to order the departure of either of the ships under his command; more especially on such a piece of service as that was, which captain Jones wished her to be sent upon. The fact was, this same French admiral was at this very time as deep in the _mud_ as L---- was in the _mire_; and so was the commander of the citadel, commonly called Fort Lewis, or Louis. L---- had been to this last place sundry times, as well as on board of the French admiral, where the plot or conspiracy was first agitated, of taking the Alliance out of Jones's hands, and where it was brought to maturity, and succeeded as I have related. [Footnote 32: L---- had been apprized of their coming to take them, and was prepared to give them a warm reception, all hands being at quarters.] [Footnote 33: They were about a mile from the _Alliance_.] [Transcriber's note: Obvious printer errors were corrected. Everything else is as in the original. Words between = are crossed in the original.] 
52540	----	Transcriber's Notes: 1. Page scan source: https://books.google.com/books?id=4D_NBMwcGQUC 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. THE GRIP OF HONOR [Illustration: "It seems to be made out properly and duly signed and sealed," said the captain, slowly.] THE GRIP OF HONOR _A Story of Paul Jones and the American Revolution_ BY CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY AUTHOR OF "FOR LOVE OF COUNTRY," "FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE SEA," ETC. The fear o' Hell's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honor grip, Let that aye be your border; Its slightest touches, instant pause-- Debar a' side-pretences; And resolutely keep its laws, Uncaring consequences. Burns NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1908 _Copyright, 1900_ By Charles Scribner's Sons _All rights reserved_ TO COLONEL JOHN LEWIS GOOD, U. S. V., AND THE OFFICERS AND MEN OF THE FIRST PENNSYLVANIA UNITED STATES VOLUNTEERS, MY COMRADES IN THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR, THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. Note The interests of the story require some slight variations from exact history in the movements of the Serapis and the Bon Homme Richard before their famous battle, for which the author asks the indulgence of the reader. In all other respects it is believed the account of the battle is sufficiently accurate to present a true picture of the most famous single-ship action ever fought upon the seas. Contents Book I THEY MEET AND PART I A Stern Chase On A Lee Shore II The Captor Captured III A Gentle Pirate IV Enter Major Coventry V Swords Are Crossed On The Sand VI The Master Player Takes A Hand Book II THEY MEET AGAIN VII After A Long Time VIII Lady Elizabeth Does Not Know The Marquis de Richemont IX The Picture On The Wall X Lady Elizabeth Will Keep Her Word XI O'Neill Will Keep His Honor XII Gentlemen All Book III ON THE VERGE OF ETERNITY XIII A Desperate Move XIV Almost The End XV A Soldier and a Gentleman Book IV THE SELFISHNESS OF LOVE XVI In the Line of his Duty XVII Differing Standards Book V IN THE HELL OF BATTLE, ALL XVIII The Boys in Command XIX 'Tween Decks with the Men XX The Indomitable Ego XXI The Audacity of Despair XXII Sinking, but Triumphant Book VI THE HAND OF GOD XXIII On Board the Serapis again XXIV Not Guilty, My Lord BOOK I THEY MEET AND PART THE GRIP OF HONOR CHAPTER I _A Stern Chase on a Lee Shore_ "The wind is freshening; we gain upon her easily, I think, sir." "Decidedly. This is our best point of sailing, and our best wind, too. We can't be going less than ten knots," said the captain, looking critically over the bows at the water racing alongside. "I can almost make out the name on her stern now with the naked eye," replied the other, staring hard ahead through the drift and spray. "Have you a glass there, Mr. O'Neill?" asked the captain. "Yes, sir, here it is," answered that gentleman, handing him a long, old-fashioned, cumbrous brass telescope, which he at once adjusted and focused on the ship they were chasing. "Ah!" said the elder of the two speakers, a small, slender man, standing lightly poised on the topgallant forecastle with the careless confidence of a veteran seaman, as he examined the chase through the glass which the taller and younger officer handed him; "I can read it quite plainly with this. The M-a-i-d--Maidstone, a trader evidently, as I see no gun-ports nor anything that betokens an armament." He ran the tubes of the glass into each other and handed it back, remarking, "At this rate we shall have her in a short time." "She is a fast one, though," replied the other; "it's no small task for anything afloat to show us her heels for so long a time; let me see--it was six bells in the morning watch when we raised her, was it not, sir?" "Yes, 'tis rather remarkable going for a merchant vessel, but we have the heels of her and will get her soon unless she goes to the bottom on those reefs round the Land's End yonder. It's a nasty place to be tearing through in that wild way," he added thoughtfully. "Shall I give her a shot, sir, from the starboard bow-chaser?" "Not just yet; it would be useless, as we are not quite within range, and she would pay no heed; besides, we shall have her without it, and 'tis hardly worth while wasting a shot upon her at present." The brief conversation took place forward upon the forecastle of the American Continental ship Ranger, between her captain, John Paul Jones, and her first lieutenant, one Barry O'Neill, Marquis de Richemont, sometime officer in the navy of his Most Christian Majesty, the King of France. O'Neill was the son of a marshal of France, an Irish gentleman of high birth and position, who had gone out as a mere lad with the young Stuart in the '45, and whose property had been confiscated, and himself attainted and sentenced to death for high treason. Fortunately he had escaped to the Continent, and had entered the service of the King of France; where, through his extraordinary ability and courage, coupled with several brilliant opportunities he had made and enjoyed, he had risen to exalted station and great wealth. He had always continued more or less of a conspirator in the cause of the royal Stuarts, however, and his son, following in his footsteps, had been mixed up in every treasonable Jacobite enterprise which had been undertaken, and was under the same ban of the British throne as was his father. When Paul Jones in the historic ship Ranger came to France, O'Neill, moved by a spirit of adventure and his ever present desire to strike a blow at King George, received permission to enter the American service temporarily, with several other French officers. The Ranger was already some days out on her successful cruise, when, early on a morning in the month of April in the year 1778, they had sighted a ship trying to beat around the Land's End. Sail had at once been made in chase, and the stranger was now almost within the grasp of the American pursuers. "It seems to me, sir," said O'Neill to the captain, "that unless she goes about presently, she won't weather that long reef over beyond her, where those breakers are." "Ay," said Jones; "and if she goes about, she's ours, and--" He paused significantly. "If not, sir?" "She's God's!" added the captain, solemnly. The wind was blowing at a furious rate. The Ranger had a single reef in her topsails, with her topgallant sails set above them. The masts were straining and buckling like bound giants, and the ship quivered and trembled like a smitten harpstring, as she pitched and plunged in the heavy seas. The wind roaring through the iron-taut rigging, and the wild spray dashing over the sides, rendered conversation almost impossible. The motley crew of the Ranger were gathered forward, clustering on the rail and lower shrouds, keeping of course at a respectful distance from their captain and his first lieutenant, and some of the other officers grouped near them. "She must tack, now," said Jones at last, "or she's lost. I know these waters; I have sailed them many times when I was a boy. I doubt if they can weather that reef even--By heavens! There's a woman on board of her, too!" he exclaimed, as his keen eye detected the flutter of drapery and a dash of color among a little group of men on the deck of the Maidstone, evidently staring aft at her relentless pursuer. "See everything in readiness for quick work here. Gentlemen," continued the captain, "to your stations all. Mr. O'Neill, remain with me." The men hastened to their places at once, and a little silence supervened. "You may give her a shot now, Mr. O'Neill," said Jones at last; "it may bring them to tacking and save them from wreck. Pitch it alongside of her; we don't want to hurt the woman, and it's not necessary to touch the ship." "Clear away that starboard bow-chaser," called the lieutenant; and the men, scarcely waiting for his word of command, cast loose the gun. "Aft there, stand by to give her a touch of the helm!" he cried with raised voice. "Ay, ay, sir," came the prompt reply. "Price," continued O'Neill to the captain of the piece, "you need not hit her; just throw a shot alongside of her. Are you ready?" "All ready, sir," answered the old seaman, carefully shifting his quid and squinting along the gun. "Luff!" shouted O'Neill, in his powerful voice. The quartermaster put the wheel over a few spokes, and the Ranger shot up into the wind a little and hung quivering a moment with checked way. "Give her a touch with the right-hand spike, lads," said old Price. "Steady, shove in that quoin a little; easy there, overhaul those tackles! All ready, sir." "Now!" cried O'Neill. A booming roar and a cloud of smoke broke out forward, and the ball ricochetted along the water and sank just under the quarter of the chase. "Let her go off again," cried O'Neill to the quartermaster, and a moment later, as the sails filled and she heeled once more to the wind; "very well dyce, enough off," he cried. "A good shot, Master Price, and a glass of grog for you presently in reward," said Jones, quietly "Ah! we shall have some answer, at any rate." At this moment a small red flag broke out from the gaff of the English vessel. "Show our own colors aft there, though they can scarcely see them," cried the captain; "he's a plucky one, that fellow. What's he doing now? 'Fore Gad, he's got a gun over the quarter, a stern-chaser. Must have arms on board." The Ranger was rushing through the water again at a rapidly increasing rate, almost burying her lee cathead in the foaming sea under the freshening breeze, and was now very near the Maidstone, which at this moment discharged the small stern-chaser which had been dragged astern, the shot from which passed harmlessly through the bellying foresail above their heads. "Give her another, Price," said O'Neill, upon a nod from Jones. "Into her this time, sir?" "Yes, anywhere you like." The Ranger luffed again, losing a little distance as she did so, but weathering appreciably on the stranger, and this time the flying splinters from the stern of the chase showed that the shot had met its mark. There was a sudden scattering of the men upon her quarter, and most of them disappeared, but the young girl could be seen holding on to the weather spanker vang, and apparently looking defiantly at them. O'Neill took up the glass and examined her. "Faith, sir, she looks as pretty as she is brave. See for yourself, sir," he added, as he handed the telescope to the captain, who took a careful look at her through the glass. "You have a good eye for the beautiful," he replied, smiling, "even at a long range. Secure the bow-chaser, sir; we are within musket range of her." While this was being done, the Ranger had crept up on the stranger till her bow began to overreach the weather quarter of the other vessel. As they held on recklessly together, suddenly the speed of the chase was diminished. Her helm was put down, and with sails quivering and swaying she swung up into the wind. "We have her now," said Jones, springing on the rail and leaning over forward; "nay, it's too late. Missed stays! By Heaven, she's in irons! She's doomed! Aft there! steady with the helm! Give her a good full." In the next instant, with a crash heard above the roar of the storm even upon the other ship, the ill-fated Maidstone drove upon the reef broadside on. The shock of meeting was tremendous: her masts were snapped short off like pipe stems; the howling gale jerked them over the sides, where they thundered and beat upon the ship with tremendous force. The girl disappeared. "Breakers ahead!" on the instant roared out a half-dozen voices in the forecastle. "Breakers on the starboard bow!" came the wild cry from all sides. "Down with the helm, hard down!" shouted O'Neill, with a seaman's ready instinct, without waiting for the captain. There was a moment of confusion on the deck. "Steady with the helm, steady, sir!" cried Jones, in his powerful voice, with an imperious wave of his hand. "Silence fore and aft the decks! Every man to his station! Keep her a good full, quartermaster. Keep that helm as you have it. Look yonder, sir," he added, pointing to larboard to another danger. "Ready about, stations for stays! Aft with you, Mr. O'Neill, and see that the helm is shifted exactly as I direct. Make no mistake! Lively, men, for your lives!" The eager crew sprang to their stations. There was another moment or two of confusion; and as they settled down, the silence was broken only by the wind and the waves. The water was seething and whirling under the forefoot of the Ranger. The reefs upon which the Maidstone had crashed were dangerously near. But the keen eye of the captain had seen on the other side a slender needle of rock over which the waves broke in seething fury as it thrust itself menacingly out of the angry ocean. They were right among the reefs, and only the most complete knowledge and consummate seamanship could save them. It was there. To tack ship now and come up in the wind would throw them on the rocky needle; to go off would bring them down upon the other reefs. Jones, entirely master of the situation, perfectly cool in appearance, though his eyes snapped and sparkled with fire, leaned out above the knightheads and keenly scanned the sea before him. There was just room for the Ranger to pass between the two reefs. A hair's breadth on either side would mean destruction. As the captain watched the boiling water he seemed to detect, through a slight change in the course, a tremor in the hand on the wheel. "Aft there!" he shouted promptly, "what are you about? Steady with that helm! No higher--nothing off!" "Ay, ay, sir," replied O'Neill, standing watchfully at the con; "I will mind it myself." The crash of the breakers, as they writhed their white-crested heads around the ship's bows and on either side, was appalling to every one. They were right in them now--passing through them. The rocky needle on the larboard hand slipped by and drew astern. The wreck of the Maidstone was lost sight of in the flooding waves and driving spray of a rising gale. The ship was roaring through the seas at a terrific rate; the strain upon everything was tremendous; a broken spar, a parted rope, meant a lost ship. "Very well dyce," cried the captain, casting a glance aloft at the weather leech of the topsails shivering in the fierce wind, the quivering masts and groaning yard-arms, the lee shrouds hanging slack, the lee braces and head bowlines taut as strung wires, the tacks and sheets and the weather shrouds as rigid as iron bars, the new canvas like sheets of marble. The ship was heeled over until the lee channels were almost awash, the spray coming in, in bucketsful, over the lee cathead. She was ready if ever she would be; their fate was at the touch. "Now!" shouted Jones, in a voice of thunder "Down with the helm! Over with it! Hard over!" The old experienced seamen put the wheel over spoke by spoke, slowly at first, then faster, until they finally hauled it down hard and clung to it with all the strength of their mighty arms. "Helm's-a-lee, hard-a-lee," cried O'Neill at this moment. "Rise tacks and sheets," roared the captain. The ship shot up into the wind, straightened herself as its pressure was removed from the sails, lost headway, the jibs swinging and tugging in the gale, as she began to swing to larboard away from the reef on the starboard side. She worked around slowly until the wind began to come in over the starboard bow. "Haul taut!" shouted the watching captain; "mainsail haul!" The great yards, with their vast expanse of slatting, roaring, threshing canvas, whirled rapidly around as the nimble crew ran aft with the sheets and braces. The Ranger fell off quickly and drifted down toward the needle, the after-sails aback. "Board that main tack there! Man the head braces; jump, men, lively! Let go and haul!" There was a frightful moment,--would she make it? She stopped-- Ah, thank God, they gathered way again, slowly, then faster. "Right the helm! Meet her--so. Steady! Get that main tack down now, tail on to it, all of you, sway away! Get a pull on the lee braces, Mr. O'Neill, and haul the bowlines. Ah! That's well done." They were rushing through it again; the white water and the breakers were left behind. A sigh of relief broke from the reckless men, and even the iron captain seemed satisfied with his achievement as he walked aft to the quarter-deck. "Get a good offing, Mr. O'Neill," said the captain, "and then heave to. First send the hands aloft to take in the to'gallant sails, and then you may get a boat ready; we must see if there are any poor creatures left on that ship yonder." "Very good, sir," replied the lieutenant, giving the necessary orders, when presently the ship, easier under the reduced canvas, was hove to in the beating sea. "Shall I take the weather whaleboat, sir?" "Yes," returned the captain, "I think you would better try to board under her lee if it be possible to do anything among that wreckage. I doubt if there be anybody left alive on her, but we can't afford to risk the possibility, especially in the case of that woman whom you found so beautiful," he added with a smile. "Ay, ay, sir," said the lieutenant, blushing beneath the bronze in spite of himself, as he directed the boatswain to call away the whaleboat, which, manned by six stout oarsmen, with himself at the tiller, was soon cast into the heaving sea. Meanwhile the Ranger filled away again and beat to and fro off the coast, taking care to preserve the necessary offing, or distance from shore to leeward. CHAPTER II _The Captor Captured_ It was a long hard pull, and only the great skill of the officer prevented their capsizing, before the whaleboat finally drew near the Maidstone. The ship had hit the reef hard at flood-tide, and the waves had driven her farther on. Every mast and spar was gone, wrenched away by the storm and the waves. It was manifestly impossible to approach upon the weather side without staving the boat, so O'Neill cautiously rounded the stern of the wreck, and briefly considered the situation. He did not dare bring the boat near enough to enable him to leap upon the deck through some of the great gaping openings in the sides made by the tremendous battering of the massive spars, and he finally concluded that the only practicable access to the Maidstone was by means of some of the gearing trailing over the side and writhing about snake-like in the water. Intrusting the tiller of the whaleboat to old Price, the veteran gunner, he directed that it be brought alongside as close as consistent with safety; and at exactly the right moment, as they rose upon the crest of a wave, he sprang out into the water, and clutched desperately at a rope hanging over the side of the wreck. The men swung the boat away from the ship instantly, and he found himself clinging to a small rope wildly tossing about in the tumultuous sea. He was dashed to and fro like a cork, the waves repeatedly broke over his head, the life was almost buffeted out of him, but he held on like grim death. Fortunately, the other end of the rope was fast inboard. With careful skill, and husbanding his strength as much as possible, he pulled himself along the rope through the water until he drew near the side of the ship. Then, though the operation was hazardous in the extreme, as he saw no other method, he began to pull himself up hand over hand on the rope along the side. In his already exhausted state and with the added weight of his wet, sodden clothing, the effort was almost beyond his strength. He endeavored by thrusting with his foot to keep himself from being beaten against the side by the waves, but without success, for when he had hardly reached the rail, an unusually large breaker struck him fairly in the back and dashed his head against a piece of jagged timber, cutting a great gash in his forehead. Blood filled his eyes, his head swam, a sick, faint feeling filled his breast, he hesitated and nearly lost his grasp of the rope. The men in the tossing boat a little distance away held their breath in terrified apprehension, but summoning all his resolution to his aid, he made a last desperate effort, breasted the rail, and fell fainting prone upon the deck of the ship. A few moments in the cold water which was flooding over it revived him somewhat, and he rose unsteadily to his feet, and looked about him in bewilderment. The change from the tossing boat to the motionless rigidity of the vise-held wreck was startling. There was not a sign of life on the ship. She was breaking up fast; rails were stove in, boats were gone, three jagged stumps showed where the masts had been, and only the fact that she had been driven so high on the reefs prevented her from foundering at once. There was a dead body jammed under the starboard fife-rail forward, but no other sign of humanity. In front of him was a hatchway, giving entrance to a small cuddy, or cabin, the roof of which rose a few feet above the level of the deck. As he stood there, striving to recover himself, in a brief lull in the storm he thought he heard a faint voice; it seemed to come from beneath him. He at once turned, and with uncertain steps descended the hatchway. Reaching the deck below, he stood in the way a moment, brushing the blood from his eyes. As he gradually made out the details of the cabin, dimly illuminated by a skylight above, he saw a woman on her knees praying; she had her face buried in her hands, and did not see him until he spoke to apprise her of his presence. "Madam," he began thickly. The woman raised her head with startled quickness, and gave him one terrified glance. The glass had told him truly,--she was beautiful, and young as well, scarcely more than a girl apparently; even the dim gray light could not hide those things. As for him, he was an awful-looking spectacle: wet, hatless, his clothing torn, a great red wound in his forehead intensifying his pallor. He had a heavy pistol in his belt and a cutlass swinging at his side. She stared at him in frightened silence and finally rose to her feet deathly pale and apparently appalled; he saw that she was a little above the medium height. At the same moment, from an obscure corner, there rang out shriek after shriek, and another woman rushed forward, threw herself on the deck at his feet and fairly grovelled before him. "Oh, sir, for God's sake, sir," she cried frantically, "good mister pirate, don't hang us, sir! We never hurt nobody. Oh, sir, take us away, we'll do anything, we-- "Silence, you coward!" commanded the other woman, imperiously. "Get up! Prayers are of no avail with such as-- "Nor are they necessary, madam," replied O'Neill; "we are not pirates, and I am come to save you and shall do it. Will you please come on deck?" "I had rather gone down on the ship," said the girl, defiantly, evidently disbelieving him; "but you are here, and you are master. Give your orders, sir." "Very well," returned the lieutenant, calmly accepting the situation; "you will go up on deck at once." The girl motioned him forward. "After you, madam," he said, bowing courteously, and she stepped haughtily up the companion-way, followed next by her shivering, shrinking, terrified maid, and lastly by O'Neill. "Are there any others left alive on the ship, think you, madam?" he asked. "No one," answered the girl; "many were thrown overboard or killed when we struck on these rocks here, and the rest abandoned us--the cowards," was the reply. "Do you wait here a moment, while I take a look forward to assure myself," said O'Neill, stepping rapidly across the raffle of rope about the decks, and making a hasty inspection to make sure that no unfortunate was left. Quickly satisfying himself that they were alone, he returned to the quarter-deck where the two women stood. He looked at them in some perplexity. It would be a matter of great difficulty to get them back in the boat, but he promptly determined upon his course of action; they would not like it, but that would be no matter. Signing to the coxswain, old Price, the boat which had been riding to a long rope from the ship was skilfully brought alongside again as near as was safe. One end of a long piece of loose gear was thrown over to the boat, where it was made fast. A bight of the rope, properly stoppered to prevent undue constriction, was passed around the waist of the maid, at which all her terrors were resumed. "Oh, for God's sake, sir, for the love of Heaven, as you have a mother or wife, do not hang us here! If we must die, let us drown on the ship like good Christian people. Oh, please, good mister pirate--" But O'Neill was in no mood to pay attention to such trifling, and he summarily fastened the bight around her waist, and lifting her upon the rail, bade her jump. She clung to him with the tenacity of despair, crying and shrieking in the most frantic manner, until finally her overwrought nerves gave way, and she fainted. That was just what he wanted. Singing out to old Price to haul in on the line, and having taken a turn around a belaying pin with his end of it, he promptly threw the girl into the water. Of course she was dragged under at once, but in a moment was lifted safely into the whaleboat, where she was shortly revived from unconsciousness by the ducking she had received. "Now, madam, you see you need fear nothing," said O'Neill, peremptorily, to the other woman. "I trust I shall not be compelled to throw you in, too?" "Not at all, sir," she replied trembling violently, but striving to preserve her self-control; "I presume you reserve me for a worse fate." The young lieutenant started violently at the insult, and his face clouded darkly at her suspicion. "I--no matter, I came to save you," he said, as he stepped toward her to assist her to make the leap. "Please do not touch me," she answered disdainfully; "I am no fainting fool. Give me the rope. What is it you wish me to do?" "Pass it around your waist. Allow me. Now stand there, madam, and when I say the word, jump!" "Very well," she said, stepping upon the rail resignedly, where perforce he was compelled to hold her to keep her from falling. How glorious and splendid she looked, he thought, with her unbound hair floating like golden sunlight in the wind against the background of the gray day, while her sea-blue eyes looked boldly over the black water from her proud, white, handsome face. "Now!" he said, as the boat rose toward them. Without a moment's hesitation, she leaped into the air, and after a swift passage through the water she was hauled into the boat by the rough but kindly hands of the old sailor. Making the end of the rope fast around his own waist, O'Neill, watching his opportunity, sprang after; but he seemed fated for misfortune that day, for a bit of timber torn that moment from the wreck struck him in the head just as he touched the water, and it was a fainting, senseless man Price hauled into the boat. The old seaman laid his officer down in the stern-sheets where the young girl was sitting with her maid crouching at her feet. Necessarily he lay in a constrained position,--there was nothing to support his head but a boat-stretcher. She gazed upon his pallid face with its disfiguring wounds; he was a murderous pirate, no doubt, and deserved it all, still he had saved her life; the Maidstone was breaking up; he was so handsome too, and he looked like a gentleman. She was a woman, well--then the womanly instincts of the girl asserted themselves, and she finally moved her position and lifted the head of the unconscious sailor to her knee. Taking a handkerchief from her neck, she dipped it in the salt water and bathed his head and then poured between his lips a few drops from the flask of rum which Price handed her, after the old man had insisted that she take a draught of the fiery liquid herself. Under these pleasant ministrations O'Neill opened his eyes for a moment, gazed up into her face with a smiling glance, and closing his eyes immediately, lest she should release him, he lay quite still while the men pulled away toward the Ranger, and in that manner they reached her side. His heart was beating wildly; that look had been enough. She was his prisoner--but her captor was captured! CHAPTER III _A Gentle Pirate_ Eager eyes on the ship had noted the every movement of the whaleboat as she drew near the Ranger. Old Price saw that a whip and a boatswain's chair had been rigged on the main-yardarm to swing his passengers on board. The sight of the dangling rope awakened a fresh fit of apprehension on the part of the timorous maid, and it was with great difficulty that the amused seaman persuaded her that she was not to be hanged outright. Entirely unconvinced, but resigning herself to her fate, she finally sat down on the small board and was swung to the gangway. Her mistress gently laid the head of the prostrate officer against one of the thwarts, and, leaving the handkerchief as a rest for it, followed the maid. Then the old coxswain secured the lieutenant to the chair, and when he had reached the deck, where he opened his eyes and recovered consciousness with incredible promptness, the boat was dropped astern, the falls hooked on, and she was smartly run up to her place at the davits, and the Ranger filled away. O'Neill was at once assisted below to his cabin, and his wounds, which were not serious, were attended to by the surgeon. When the young woman joined her maid on the deck, her glance comprehended a curious picture. In front of her, hat in hand, bowing low before her, stood a small, dapper, swarthy, black-avised, black-haired man, in the blue uniform of a naval officer. He had the face of a scholar and a student, with the bold, brilliant, black eyes of a fighter. Surrounding him were other officers and several young boys similarly dressed. Scattered about in various parts of the ship, as their occupation or station permitted, were a number of rude, fierce, desperate-looking men, nondescript in apparel. None of the navies of the world at that date, except in rare instances, uniformed its men. On either side of the deck black guns protruded through the ports, and here and there a marine, carrying a musket and equipped in uniform of white and green, stood or paced a solitary watch. "I bid you welcome to my ship, madam; so fair a face on a war-vessel is as grateful a sight as the sun after a squall," said the officer, elaborately bowing. "Sir," said the young woman, trembling slightly, "I am a person of some consideration at home. My guardian will cheerfully pay you any ransom if you spare me. I am a woman and alone. I beg you, sir, to use me kindly;" she clasped her hands in beseeching entreaty, her beautiful eyes filling with tears. At this signal the fears of the maid broke out afresh, and she plumped down on her knees and grasped the captain around the legs, bawling vociferously, and adding a touch of comedy to the scene. "Oh, sir, for the love of Heaven, sir, don't make us walk the plank!" It would seem that the maid had been reading romances. The seamen near enough to hear and see grinned largely at this exhibition, and the captain, with a deep flush and a black frown on his face, struggled to release himself. "Silence, woman!" he cried fiercely, at last. "Get up from your knees, or, by Heaven, I will have you thrown overboard; and you, madam, for what do you take me?" "Are you not a--a pirate, sir?" she answered, hesitating. "They told me on the ship that you--" "No pirate am I," interrupted the man, proudly, laying his hand on his sword. "I am an officer, and, with these gentlemen, am in the service of the United States of America, the new Republic--this is the American Continental ship Ranger. You are as safe with us as you would be in your own parlor at home. Safer, in fact; there you would be surrounded by servants; here are men who would die to prevent harm coming to you-- Is it not so, gentlemen?" A deep chorus of "Ay, ay's" rang through the air. The captain continued with sudden heat,-- "'Fore God, madam, I don't understand how you could insult me with an offer of money!" "Oh, sir," said the girl, visibly relieved, "they told me that you were a pirate, and would murder us all. Are you not--" "Captain John Paul Jones, at your service, madam," interrupted the little officer, with another bow, thrusting his hand in his bosom. "Yes," said the young woman; "they said it would be you. Why, every news-letter in the land describes you as--as--" "Pirate, madam, say it; you have not hesitated to speak the word heretofore. A rebel--a traitor--a pirate," he said, throwing up his head proudly,--"'tis a penalty which one pays for fighting for freedom; but you, at least, shall be able to speak unequivocally as to our character, for I pledge you my word you shall take no harm from us, though I doubt not my young gentlemen here will be raked fore and aft by the batteries of your bright eyes. Now will you vouchsafe me your name and some of your story, that I may know with whom I have to do?" "My name is Howard, sir,--Elizabeth Howard," replied the girl, brightening as her fears diminished. "I am the ward of Admiral Lord Westbrooke, the governor of Scarborough Castle. I have no father nor mother." "Another claim upon our consideration, ma'am." "Sir, I thank you. I was going to visit friends in Liverpool when that unfortunate ship there was wrecked. Oh, what will become of me now?" she exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears again. "Liverpool lies in our way, Mistress Howard, and 'twill give me great pleasure to land you upon some convenient point on the coast in a few days if the wind hold, and no mischance arise; and now may I present my officers to you, since we are to be fellow-passengers all." Upon receiving the desired permission from the grateful girl, in whose pale cheek the color began to come again, the captain, who was a great stickler for etiquette, brought forward the little group of officers and introduced them one by one. There was much bowing and courtesying on the quarter-deck, which even the seamen seemed to enjoy. "This is all, I believe," said the captain, having stopped with the smallest midshipman, who announced himself in his boyish treble, in comical imitation of his elders, as, "vastly honored, madam." "The gentleman who brought me here?" questioned the girl, blushing faintly; "I trust he is not seriously injured?" "Ah!" replied Jones, "my first lieutenant, Mr. Barry O'Neill, a volunteer with us, and an officer in the service of his most Christian Majesty, my friend, the King of France." On the ship O'Neill had elected to sink his marquisate. "He is not much hurt, Mistress Howard, only battered about a bit and pulled down by the nervous shock and efforts he underwent--why, here he is now! Did I not warn you, sir, to stay below?" said the doctor, shaking his finger, as O'Neill, pale and languid, with his head bound up, came slowly up the companion-way. "Oh, I am all right, doctor," said the lieutenant, rather weakly, but smiling with the audacity and gallantry of his race as he spied the girl. "Who would stay below with divinity on the deck? The thought of the presence of this lady above him would lift a crusader from his tombstone." "Allow me to present you in due form to Mistress Howard, Mr. O'Neill," said the captain, somewhat severely, evidently very desirous of observing the proprieties now. "Sir," said the young girl, looking gratefully at the Irishman out of her violet eyes, "I have to thank you for a most gallant rescue, made doubly hard by my perversity and foolish apprehension, which this gentleman," bowing to the flattered captain, "has most kindly removed." "'Twas a pleasure to serve you, madam. May I continue to enjoy it. We would sink another ship for such another chance," said the Irishman, lightly. "Now I propose to give up one of my cabins to Mistress Howard and her maid," said the captain; "and I presume that she will need to rest after the exciting incidents of the day until supper is served. If you are able, Mr. O'Neill, I should like to have you join us there, with Mistress Howard's permission, of course, since the ship is hers." He smiled toward her, and when he smiled he was irresistible. "I am honored, sir," replied the girl, graciously. "And I thank you. Captain, I shall be delighted," continued the young lady, laying her hand in his own, as he led her aft to the cabin door in the break of the poop. Before she entered, she turned and made a graceful courtesy; her glance swept toward the young lieutenant--O'Neill from that moment was no longer a captive--he was a slave. "Gentlemen, good-afternoon," she said, comprehending them in one brilliant look, and smiling again--it was enough; that glance had given O'Neill any number of rivals. CHAPTER IV _Enter Major Coventry_ Three days later the Ranger, under all plain sail, in a gentle breeze, was slowly ploughing along through the Irish Sea, off the English coast, near the mouth of the Mersey. The whaleboat, manned by six of the smartest seamen, armed with cutlass and pistol, and dressed in their best clothes, old Price being coxswain again, was just being made ready. The ship was presently hove to, and a side ladder was dropped overboard at the gangway where Miss Elizabeth Howard and her maid were standing waiting for the lowering of the whaleboat, and around which the officers of the deck speedily congregated. They were a sorrowful lot of men, these impressionable sailors, for O'Neill was not alone in his captivity. True to his promise, Captain Jones had shifted his course, and was about to land his fair passenger. He had chosen to put her ashore upon a rocky beach four or five miles away from a fort at Birkenhead, which guarded the mouth of the river which gave entrance to the harbor, not caring to venture his ship in any closer proximity to the fortifications and the war-vessels probably in the river. It was a risky performance at best, but he trusted to the known speed of the Ranger and his own seamanship to effect his escape in case the ship should be discovered and pursued in force. Once on shore, it would not be a difficult matter for the lady and her maid to procure a conveyance to take them to the city a little farther inland. The melancholy duty of landing the two women, by special request, had been allotted to the first lieutenant, much to the disgust of the various midshipmen who conceived that the matter of taking charge of boats appertained more properly to one of their number. The farewells were soon spoken by the grateful girl to the officers, who had done their very best in making the days pass pleasantly and lightening the tedium of the voyage, and to the captain, who had been kindness and consideration itself. The young lieutenant, still somewhat pale from his adventure, had clothed himself in a handsome full-dress uniform, and, with a splendidly jewelled sword swinging by his side, came on deck from his cabin, the envy of all the others. The ship had been hove to, the accommodation ladder shipped, the whaleboat was lying at the gangway now, and the three passengers at once took their places in the stern. "See Miss Howard safely landed, Mr. O'Neill," said the solicitous captain, leaning over the rail, "and assure yourself, as far as possible, of her ability to reach the town without harm, and then return at once; in any event, do not leave the beach. We will watch you, sir." "Ay, ay, sir," answered O'Neill. "Shove off--out oars--give way!" and the little boat at once shot away from the side, and, under the impetus given by the watchful men, dashed toward the not distant shore. Miss Howard should have been radiantly happy at leaving the Ranger, and in her proximity to Liverpool, where she was about to meet not only friends and family connections, but one who was destined to be something more. This person was Major Edward Coventry, a gallant and distinguished young officer, the son and heir of her guardian, Lord Westbrooke, and to whom for many years--from infancy, in fact--she had been betrothed. But an unaccountable tinge of sadness hovered over her lovely face, though she strove to conceal it under an affectation of lightness and gayety. As for O'Neill, he made no effort whatever to hide his misery. The impressionable young Irishman had fallen deeply in love with Elizabeth Howard. He had fallen in love a thousand times before, but not in this way; and the heart which had withstood the successful assaults of the brilliant beauties of the gay court of France had literally succumbed at the first sight of this beautiful English girl whom benignant fortune had thrown across his path. She, and she only, was his fate, then and thereafter. A new and hitherto unknown feeling had been excited in his heart at the sight of her. In that hour in the boat when he lay with his head upon her knee, when he had looked up at her, heaven had opened before his gaze, and to his disordered fancy she had seemed an angel. Each passing moment discovered in her a new charm, and he loved her with the impetuosity of a boy, the doting passion of an old man, and the consecration of a devotee. With the daring of his race, he had not hesitated to acquaint the girl with his passion, either, though it was stale news to her; there is nothing a woman discovers more quickly and more certainly than the feelings of a man who loves her. That she had laughed at his ardor had not in the least deterred him from persisting in his attentions, which she had not found unwelcome, for he thoroughly understood the value of determined pursuit. She had told him that they were like two ships sailing the great sea, whose paths happened to cross for a moment. They meet, nod to each other, and pass on; the deep swallows them up, and they see each other no more forever. He had vowed and protested that it would not be so; that England was a little country and Admiral Westbrooke a great man; that she could not be anywhere without attracting the attention of the world,--she could by no means hide her light; that he would withdraw from the American service, which he could honorably do at the expiration of the present cruise, and search the whole island until he found her,--all of which was pleasant for her to hear, of course, though it elicited no more favorable reply. She was attracted to the young man: his handsome person, his cultured mind, his charming manners were such that no one--no woman, that is--could be indifferent to them; but she did not love him, at least not yet. Elizabeth Howard was a woman to make a man fall desperately in love with her, and many men had done so. She was tall and graceful, golden-haired, blue-eyed, and of noble presence. She was proud, she was wise, she was witty, she was tender, she was contemplative, she was gay, she was sad, she was joyous, in different moods. Days, years even, could not exhaust the charms of her infinite variety, though far down beneath the surface of her nature were the quiet deeps of constancy and devotion,--what plummet could sound them, who should discover them? There was about her that indefinable air of one born for homage and command which speaks of generations to whom have been accorded honor and place unquestioned. It was not a long row to the land; and as they approached the rugged coast, the young lieutenant eagerly scanned the shore for a landing-place. Steering around a little promontory which hid them from the Ranger, he discovered a stretch of sandy beach under its lee, and the boat was sent in its direction until the keel grated on the soft sand. It was a lonely spot, a little stretch of sand ending inland, and on one side in precipitous rocks over which a wandering pathway straggled unevenly to the heights above. The other end of the beach gave entrance, through a little opening, or pass in the rocks, upon a country road which wandered about inland, losing itself under some trees a mile or so away. On the rocky promontory back of, and at one end of the beach, there was a small lighthouse; and several miles from the beach in the other direction, at the end of the road probably, was a castle or fort, the flag floating lazily from the staff indicating that it was garrisoned. Springing lightly from the boat, O'Neill stepped recklessly into the water alongside. Miss Howard rose to her feet and looked anxiously about her. "Allow me," said O'Neill; and then, without waiting for permission, he lifted her gently in his arms and carried her to the shore. "Would that all the earth were water, and that I might carry you forever," he said, as he put her down upon the sand. "You would not like heaven, then?" she replied, jesting. "I find my present experience of it delightful, madam; but why do you say that?" he asked anxiously. "Because there, we are told, there will be no more sea!" she answered with well-simulated gayety. "'Tis a poor place for a sailor, then," he replied gravely, in no mood for badinage, "and I fear few of them will get there." Price, who had followed his officer's example with the maid, now stepped up to him for his orders, necessarily interrupting the conversation. "Price," he said to that intrepid old sailor, "you may go back to the boat and shove off, and keep her under the lee of that little point until I call you. Keep a sharp lookout, too." "Ay, ay, sir," said the old sailor, turning to fulfil the command. "Now I suppose the time has come for me to say good-bye to Lieutenant O'Neill," said Elizabeth. "Oh, not yet, Miss Howard; I cannot leave you here alone until I know that you are safe." "But your duty, sir?" "A gentleman's, a sailor's, first duty is always toward a helpless woman, especially if she is-- "His prisoner, you would say, I suppose?" she said, interrupting hastily. That was not at all what he had intended to say, but he let it pass. "You know who is prisoner, now and forever, Miss Howard." "If you refer to Lieutenant O'Neill, I will release him now and forever as well, at once, sir," she said archly. "You cannot." "As you will, sir," she replied; "but as I happen to see several horsemen coming down the road yonder, I imagine you will not be detained from your ship a very long time. Let us go forward to meet them; perhaps they can give us some information." The horsemen, evidently an officer and two orderlies who were galloping toward the beach, at this moment noticed the boat party and probably the Ranger itself. They reined in their horses at once, and the officer apparently gave some directions to one of the others, for he saluted, turned his horse about in the road, and galloped rapidly back in the direction of the castle. The officer then trotted hastily forward, followed by the remaining man, and looking intently ahead of him until he reached the vicinity of the little group, he dismounted, and handing the bridle to the soldier, bade him wait where he was. He came forward fearlessly, with one hand on his sword, the other holding a pistol which he had taken from the holster. He was a young and handsome man in a new and brilliant scarlet uniform. CHAPTER V _Swords are Crossed on the Sand_ "Lady Elizabeth, you here?" he exclaimed, stopping short in great surprise, when he was near enough to recognize them. "What is the meaning of this?" He stood a moment as if petrified, and then came nearer. "Who is this person?" he demanded imperiously. Elizabeth started violently. "Major Coventry! Edward!" she cried. "Are you a 'Lady,' madam?" said O'Neill, in equal surprise, addressing the astonished girl and paying no attention to the officer. "For what else do you take her, sir?" interrupted the officer, bristling with indignation. "Faith, sir, I would take her 'for better or worse,' an I could," replied the Irishman, smiling. "Unfortunately for you, that is a privilege I propose to exercise myself," said the Englishman, sternly. "The world will doubtless share my regret, sir," said the Irishman, audaciously, a bitter pang in his breast at this unlooked for news. "Now I wish to know who you are and how you come here and what you are doing,--an explanation, sir!" asked the officer. "I am not accustomed to give explanations save to those who have the right to demand them," replied O'Neill. "I have two rights, sir." "They are?" "First, I am betrothed to this young lady," said the officer. "Second, this," laying his hand upon his sword. "Either of these may be sufficient from your point of view, neither of them from mine. As to the first, I refer you to the young lady herself: I will have it from her own lips, or not at all; as to the second, you will see I have a similar right of my own." "Will you, Lady Elizabeth," said the young officer, addressing her formally, "have the goodness to inform me how you came here and who this person is, or shall I force the knowledge from him?" "If you wish him to have the information, Miss Howard, you would, I think, better give it him. Otherwise I do not see how he is to get it," said O'Neill, grimly, his dark face flushing with anger. "This gentleman," said the girl, faintly, pointing to the officer, "is Major Edward Coventry, the son of my guardian, Admiral Westbrooke." "And your betrothed, Elizabeth; you forget that," added Coventry. "I almost wish I could," she replied sharply, gathering courage. "You remind me of it too constantly for it to be pleasant, and at no time so inopportunely as at the present." The Englishman, in great astonishment and perturbation, opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the quicker Irishman. "Why so, Mistress Howard?" "Lady Elizabeth, if you please, sir," said Coventry. "Lady Elizabeth, then. I thank you, sir, for the reminder," answered O'Neill, suavely. "Your friends on the Ranger are all interested in your welfare, and I am sure they are glad in my person to meet with and congratulate the fortunate gentleman who aspires to your hand." He smiled bitterly at her as he spoke. "Will you tell me or not, Lady Elizabeth, who this person is and how you came here?" said Coventry, impatiently, with mounting choler at all this by-play. "This is a lieutenant of the American Continental ship Ranger, Captain John Paul Jones-- "The d----d, murdering pirate!" exclaimed Coventry, hotly. "Stop!" cried O'Neill, stepping forward with his hand upon his sword. "You shall neither swear before a lady, nor shall you in this scandalous manner disparage the ship of which I have the honor to be the first lieutenant, nor asperse the character of her captain. Withdraw your words, or you shall answer to me with that which hangs by your side." "I fight only with gentlemen," said Coventry, coldly. "My custom," replied O'Neill, promptly, "is in the main the same as your own; but I sometimes make exceptions, which I am willing to do in this instance. I require you immediately, instantly, to apologize to me for your remarks." "And if I refuse?" "I shall strike them down your throat with my hand." "'S death, sir! How dare you, a beggarly adventurer, talk thus to me, an officer, a major in the army of his Gracious Majesty King George, a Coventry, a Westbrooke!" "If you were an angel from heaven 'twould make no difference to me, for I would have you know, sir, that I am of as good a house as--ay, a better than--your own, a descendant of kings-- "An Irishman, I infer?" said Coventry, sneering. "You are correct, sir, and my people have been chieftains for thirty generations." "Ah, in Ireland?" The manner of the question made it another insult, but O'Neill restrained himself under the great provocation and answered coldly: "Where else, sir, and where better? As for me, I am temporarily an officer of yonder ship, the Ranger, flying the flag of the American Republic, but I am a lieutenant in the navy of his Majesty Louis XVI. My father is a marshal of France. Will you draw now?" he cried, stepping forward impetuously. "A brilliant array of titles surely; pity it lacks other confirmation than your word. I scarcely comprehend the catalogue," replied Coventry, coldly. "I shall endeavor to enlighten you as to my credibility with this," said O'Neill, drawing his sword. "Now will you fight or not?" "And if I persist in my refusal?" asked Coventry, who was playing for time. "At this juncture I shall be under the painful necessity of killing you in the presence of your betrothed, so draw, my dear sir, if not for honor, for-- "What?" "Life!" "On guard!" cried the Englishman, whipping out his sword. "Stop!" cried Elizabeth, springing between their swords. "He saved my life at the risk of his own." "D--n him!" said the Englishman, grinding his teeth. "Your condemnation comes too late, sir," said O'Neill, with bitter emphasis, with an expressive glance at Elizabeth, who continued impetuously: "This gentleman treated me with the most distinguished courtesy." "I wish that he had exhibited some of it here," interrupted Coventry again. "I have but followed your own example," retorted O'Neill, calmly. "Will you hear me in silence, Edward? They are not pirates--" "I call them so," said Coventry, stubbornly. "Enough, Lady Elizabeth," said O'Neill, taking his share in the conversation again. "Two lovers are sometimes an embarrassment of riches. This seems to be one of the times. If you will stand aside, I trust that a few moments will rid you of one or the other of them." "I will not go!" said the girl, defiantly. "You shall not fight; you have nothing to quarrel about." "We have you, or rather he has," responded the Irishman. "Withdraw, I beg of you, Elizabeth. This matter must be settled," said Coventry, in his turn. "I will not, I tell you!" persisted the girl, determinedly. "If you fight, you will fight through me." "We are doing that now," said O'Neill, savagely. "Will you withdraw, madam?" "I repeat it, I will not, and I wish to remind you that I do not like your tone. You are not on the deck of your ship now, sir." "Oh, am I not? Boat ahoy, there! Price," cried O'Neill, waving his hand. A few strokes brought the whaleboat to the shore again. The crew were eager to take a hand in the fray. "Coxswain, come here," said the officer. "Ay, ay, sir," replied the sailor; and while the other two stood wondering, the veteran seaman rolled up to them and saluted his lieutenant with a sea scrape. "Want us to take a hand in this yere little scrimmage, yer Honor?" "No. Take this lady and her maid to that clump of rocks yonder." "That's easy; 'tain't no fightin' at all, that. Come along, yer Leddyship," said the old man, in great disappointment, as the boat shoved off again. "You monster!" cried Elizabeth, stamping her foot on the sand. "You are a pirate, after all!" "As you say, madam. Stop, sir!" said O'Neill to Coventry, who made a move to approach the sailor. "My man will do no harm to her Ladyship, and you have other matters to attend to, unless you wish to shelter yourself behind a woman's petticoats." Coventry had been playing for more time, but this was more than he could stand. "I think you have said enough, sir, and if you are ready," he said, "we will talk in another fashion." "At your service," said the Irishman, composedly. Two swords flashed in the air simultaneously, and rang against each other with deadly purpose a moment after. Both men were masters of the weapon. Coventry had been thoroughly trained in the more direct English school; while O'Neill was a master of all the graceful tricks of the subtle fence of France and Italy. It was as pretty a play--parry and thrust--as one could hope to see, and for a time the advantage was with neither one of them. Elizabeth stood with clasped hands, her face pale with emotion, her lips parted, eagerly watching. The maid as usual was furnishing a comic side to the scene by her screams of "murder--help!" while the sailors were deeply interested in the two combatants. Finally, after one especially vicious thrust on the part of Coventry, whose foot slipped a little, a clever parry, followed by a dashing _riposte en quarte_, which was met and returned with less skill than usual, O'Neill, with a graceful turn of the wrist, whirled the Englishman's sword from his hand. It flew up into the air and fell clanging on the rocks some distance away. Coventry was unarmed and helpless before a bitter enemy. He was the stronger of the two, and it flashed into his mind to spring upon his antagonist suddenly, catch him in his arms, and overcome him by brute force; but the glittering point of his enemy's sword, shivering in the sunlight like a serpent's tongue, effectively barred the way. He had played the game and lost. If he must die in the presence of his love, he would do it like a gentleman, on the sword's point. "Strike, sir!" he said hoarsely, with one quick glance toward Lady Elizabeth, who stood perfectly motionless, looking on in terror. She would have run forward had it not been for old Price. "Oh, he will be killed, he will be killed!" wailed the maid. "Sir Englishman, pick up your sword," said O'Neill, lowering his point. "Sir Irishman," said the other, bowing, "men may call you pirate--" "Not with impunity, sir," interrupted the touchy O'Neill. "That I grant you. I was about to add that, whatever they call you, you fight like a gentleman; and it will give me great pleasure to testify to your personal worth at every convenient season. Will you permit me, though I do not know your name, to call you my friend?" There is a great educational value in the point of a naked sword, and it may account for the sudden change which came over Coventry. "I shall esteem myself honored, sir. My name is O'Neill, Barry O'Neill, at your service." "I shall remember it. You have not only saved the life of Lady Elizabeth Howard, but now you have given me my own." "Thus am I the prince of match-makers," said O'Neill, bitterly. "I would that I had lost mine in one of the savings!" "Now, sir," continued Coventry, disregarding this last remark, "if you would be advised by me, withdraw while you may yet do so in safety." CHAPTER VI _The Master Player takes a Hand_ At this moment, a number of red-coated soldiers clambered down the path in the rocks, while a squad of cavalry came galloping upon the beach by the road at the other end, and, at once dismounting, advanced up the strand. The seamen in the boat, in obedience to a wave of O'Neill's hand, swept her in toward the shore, jumped out, and moved toward him, drawing their cutlasses and handling their pistols threateningly; though they were greatly outnumbered, they would not give up without a struggle. It was Coventry's opportunity now. "I shall not be able to indulge your desire for the loss of your life," he said, stepping back and picking up his sword, "but I fear that duty imposes upon me the necessity of depriving you of your liberty--I regret the necessity, believe me, 'tis a poor return for your generosity, but I have no option." "What mean you?" "You are, by your own statements, a rebel against his Majesty. It is my duty as commander of this post and a loyal servant of the king to apprehend you. Indeed, I have been especially charged to look out for you. I will promise you and your men the best of treatment, however, and you liberty of action, if you will give me your parole." "I am twice captured then, it seems," said the lieutenant, looking at Elizabeth, who had come forward as soon as old Price, who had left her, had sprung to his officer's side. As the girl drew near to him, and Major Coventry turned away his head a moment to give an order, the Irishman said to her: "Why did you not call out to save your lover a moment since?" "It was not necessary," she said, looking at him with eyes filled with tears. "I knew what you would do." Delay was dangerous to him,--Coventry was posting his men; he hesitated a moment, however, and taking her hand bowed low over it. "Thank you," he whispered gratefully. "This word, and you, I shall remember." "And I," said the girl, her eyes filling with tears, "will never forget--" "Come, sir," said Coventry, dryly, turning at this moment, having finished his dispositions. "I think you overstep the privileges of a parole; and if you will have your men lay down their arms, we will go up to the castle. I have sent for a carriage for you, Elizabeth, which will be here shortly." "Do you know," said O'Neill, "that I have a mind to say to you that I might as well die right here as at any place else, and I do not think I shall go to that castle, after all. There are seven of us here--" "Close in there!" sharply shouted Coventry to his soldiers, who obeyed him promptly. "Make ready!" "Handle your pistols, men," cried the other, whipping out his own; but again Elizabeth interfered in the fray. She ran between the American seamen and the English soldiers with outstretched hands. "Stop!" she cried. "There must be no further fighting here. This gentleman came to this spot to do me a favor, to set me free. My life is his--" "I give it back to you," cried O'Neill. "And yours, Major Coventry, was his also," she added reproachfully. "I give it to him as well; and if any more lives are wanted, anybody can have mine for the taking," interrupted the sailor again. "This must go no further," continued the girl. "And it shall not, madam," cried a deep, clear voice, as one of the cutters of the Ranger, filled to the gunwales with heavily armed men, and with a swivel in the bow and a man standing over it with a lighted match in his hand, came sweeping around the headland and dashing in toward the shore. It was under the command of Jones himself, who had grown impatient at the delay. "I am sorry to interrupt a _tête-à-tête_, gentlemen," he cried. "You are beaten again, Major Coventry," said O'Neill, calmly. "The odds are in our favor now. Throw down your arms instantly, you dogs," he shouted to the English soldiers. "Back! Out of the way, Miss Howard." He sprang to her side, and clasping her around the waist as if she had been a child, lifted her out of the line of fire. The jealous Coventry noticed two things,--he did not release her, nor did she struggle to get away. The sullen soldiers rallied about Coventry and presented their arms threateningly; they had no mind either to yield without a fight. "Stand by!" shouted Jones to the marines in his boat and to the gunners forward. "Stop, for God's sake stop, Captain Jones! You have been good to me," cried Elizabeth, now struggling faintly to escape from the grasp of O'Neill. "I know that you are a gentleman. That officer is my betrothed. Withhold your fire. They will retire. There must be no blood shed. You promised to set me free and in safety ashore and leave me there. Go, I entreat you!" "Steady, lads, steady!" cried Jones, stepping out of the boat. "And you, sir," to the English officer, "will you withdraw quietly, taking your lady with you, of course, if we engage to do the same? You are outnumbered, and we can cut you to pieces. Take the word of an older fighter, your honor will be safe, sir." "You are right, sir, 'tis best. I must needs submit, I suppose," said Coventry, resigning himself the more gracefully to the inevitable as he could then receive his love again. "Come, Lady Elizabeth." "Now, why didn't you protest when I was captured?" said O'Neill, releasing her waist, but still holding her hand. "Could it be because I wanted you to be with me?" she whispered, caught off her guard in spite of herself, with a blush covering her face. "God bless you for that, and good-bye," he said, bowing over her hand. "A year, give me a year--" he turned and walked away. "Sir," said Coventry, sheathing his sword, and walking down to where Jones stood upon the sand, "we have been misinformed concerning you. I have had a little interview with your first lieutenant which has convinced me that I was wrong, and this talk has added to my knowledge. As an officer of the king, I offer you my hand. Whatever your political or personal affiliations may be, I am glad to recognize in you gentlemen of merit and distinction. I trust to be able to repay the obligation you have laid upon me and my betrothed on some future occasion. We are friends?" "Sir," replied Jones, "I love a gallant foe. I shall remember you. I thank you for your courtesy." "And I as well," added O'Neill. "It is not the practice of the American Navy," continued Jones, "to force ships of war and bloody battles between loving hearts. Mistress Howard, fare you well; the Ranger, her officers and crew, are yours if you wish. If we should be met by another ship with you in command, we strike to you without a blow." "Elizabeth," said Coventry, magnanimously, "can you not bid your friends good-bye?" "I shall ever remember Captain John Paul Jones," said Lady Elizabeth, stepping forward and giving the little captain her hand to kiss, "and I shall never forget Lieutenant O'Neill." "Will you wait one year for him?" he whispered as he bowed low over her hand. "Come and see," she answered, and turned away. BOOK II THEY MEET AGAIN CHAPTER VII _After a Long Time_ "There are only two men-of-war in the whole lot." "Right, yer Honor. That 'un near the shore there-away looks like a big frigate. That'll be the Serapis, I'm thinkin'." "Yes, and that one further out, the Scarborough." "Ay, ay, sir, an' all the rest on 'em is merchantmen. There ain't a gun on board any on 'em. Nice pickin's them'll be fer us poor sailormen arter we dispose of them war-vessels. Dash my wig! jist think of them fat traders, an' we a-rummagin' among 'em--" "That will do, Price. Just moderate your transports a little," said the officer, stepping forward to the brow of the hill and taking another long look at the harbor. "I ain't no transport," muttered the garrulous old man under his breath. "I won't carry no soldiers nowhere. I'm a man-o'-war, I am;" but he took good care that his superior should not hear these somewhat insubordinate remarks. "Well," said the other, finally turning about after his close scrutiny, "I think we have ascertained about all we have come for. They are the Baltic convoy, without doubt, and you would better make a straight course for the ship at once and report." "An' you, sir?" asked the old man, respectfully, "won't you come along, sir? I hate to cut cable an' leave you here adrift, alone, yer Honor." "No," answered the officer, after a reflective pause, "I think I shall go up to that castle on the bluff beyond and find out a little more definitely as to the situation, if possible. Meanwhile, do you get on your horse and ride back to Bridlington Bay. Go aboard the Alert and tell Mr. Lunt, from me, to join the Richard to the southward at once, and notify Captain Jones of what we have seen. Tell him I think it will be perfectly safe for him to come on: there is a great fleet of merchant ships here with only two ships-of-war; he will rejoice at the chance of a fair fight. I will find means to join him at the rendezvous before the rest of the ships can assemble and they can get under way. Now bear a hand; don't let the grass grow under your keel." "Oh, Lord, yer Honor, have I got to git on board that 'ere four-legged craft agin?" said old Price, ruefully. "That's what you have to do, my lad," remarked the officer, cheerfully. "Seems like somethin's wrong with him," said the old sailor. "A animal wot steers by the head is contrary like to natur. Now if I could only git him to go about on t'other tack, or wear him, by shiftin' his tail, I'd understand him perfectly; but this yere tiller rope riggin' over his bows is wot gits me. An', sir, I can't make out with them 'ere stirrups nuther; it's like hangin' onto the yard-arm in a tossin' sea without no foot ropes. Howsomever, if I must, I must, I guess." "Oh, you won't mind it," replied the officer, laughing at the old man's rueful face. "Besides, the wind's fair, and you'll be going free most of the way. Just give him a touch of your weather heel once in a while, and you'll soon make the harbor." "I never thought about the wind," said the veteran gunner, thoughtfully, his face brightening as he turned and listened for it. "Yer Honor's right. 'Twill be plain sailin'. Well, sir, anchor's aweigh, an' here goes!" The old seaman, giving great evidence of his disinclination in spite of the favoring breeze, at last climbed upon the back of his staid old horse, and, resisting the temptation to give him his direction by a pull of the tail, got under way and lurched rapidly down the road. Left to himself, the lieutenant mounted his own horse--surprising to state, for a sailor he was an excellent horseman--and rode down toward the sleeping town nestled around Scarborough harbor, which was filled with a large fleet of merchant ships convoyed by two men-of-war, all riding quietly at their anchors. Opposite the acclivity on which the two men had stood, and to the north of the town, rose a bold, splendid headland, or scar, almost an island, to the height of about three hundred feet. The rugged crest was crowned by a picturesque old castle. The headland jutted boldly out into the sea, and the wild waters dashed upon its walls from every side. Access to the castle from the town was by means of a causeway and bridge springing over a rocky and otherwise impassable connection between the cliff and the mainland, which was sometimes flooded at high-tide. Portions of the castle were in bad repair, or had been dismantled in the several wars in which it had played a memorable part since its erection nearly seven hundred years before by a follower of William the Conqueror; but a large part of it was still inhabitable, and had been provided with a sufficient garrison. A heavy water battery, which had been placed in position during the rebellion in 1745, had been recently strengthened and reinforced. Captain Jones, in the Bon Homme Richard, had been cruising around the coasts of the British Islands for some time. He had heard of the expected arrival of the Baltic fleet in these waters, and had presumed that they would make Scarborough harbor. Word had been received from a small trader he had overhauled, that a large number of ships had assembled in that harbor; and in order to ascertain whether he might safely attack them with his small nondescript squadron, he had accepted the voluntary services of Lieutenant O'Neill, seconded by gunner Price of the Bon Homme Richard. They had gone on ahead of the squadron in the cutter Alert, and had landed below Scarborough headland, and ridden on to Scarborough to ascertain the facts. The Alert was to carry the news back to Jones, on the Richard, farther down the coast, and the vessels of his squadron were all to assemble a day or two later at Bridlington Bay, a small and unimportant town with a good harbor within easy reaching distance of the expected prey. Should the report of the scouts be favorable, they would proceed at once to attack the convoy. On their journey to Scarborough, O'Neill had ascertained from a passing countryman that Lord Westbrooke was still governor of the castle, and he at once surmised that Lady Elizabeth Howard would probably be there with her guardian. Six months more than the year he had asked for from her had elapsed, and many untoward circumstances had prevented him from carrying out his plan of seeking her, but she had ever been in his heart, and time and separation had but intensified his passion. The mercurial Irishman had been deeply smitten by the proud English beauty, and the constancy of his devotion evidenced the depth of the impression she had made upon him. When Jones had returned with the Ranger from his first successful cruise, he and his officers had been fêted and made much of by the French court. The gallant adventures in which he had participated lent a new charm to the fascinating personality of the son of the old marshal, whose entrée was already everything that could be desired; and his heart, accordingly, had been a target for repeated attacks upon the part of the bright-eyed and fascinating dames of France--but to no avail had they attempted its capture. Something of the story of his devotion had been allowed to leak out, however, to account for his obduracy, and they finally understood why he was so unusually insensible to their charms. This romance naturally only added a piquancy to the feminine pursuit of which he was the object, although the ladies' sportive love chase proved, in the end, unavailing. He had resolved, O'Neill said, to show the world that unusual spectacle, a constant Irishman! This was to attempt the impossible, had been the quick reply, but, nevertheless, he had accomplished it. Our Celtic mariner did not resign from the American service, however, not because he cared particularly for America, for democratic doctrines could never be acceptable to a follower of the young Stuart, the intimate associate of the young nobles of France; but, primarily, because he saw in it renewed opportunities to annoy and humiliate the stout Hanoverian whom he and his people hated, and from whom they had received much harm, and, secondly, because he was so much attracted by the strong personality of Paul Jones. So great had become his regard for this wonderful man that he had even waived considerations of rank in favor of an American, the gallant Richard Dale, and had consented to serve as second lieutenant instead of first, on the Richard, when that famous ship and her ill-assorted consorts started forth upon the memorable cruise. The tacticians of the French Navy unfortunately were not given to consider downright hard fighting as the end and aim of naval enterprise. Their man[oe]uvres were calculated to annoy and harass the enemy, but their first thought was not to destroy his ships, but to protect their own,--a fatal mistake in policy from which they have ever suffered. This was not John Paul Jones' way. Whatever else he was, he was a fighter from the beginning to the end, and O'Neill found in him a congenial spirit. The love-lorn Irishman had tried several times to communicate with Lady Elizabeth by letter and messenger, but without success, for he received no reply to his letters, and his messengers had never returned. Therefore, when he found himself in such close proximity to her as on this, the evening of Tuesday, the 21st of September, 1779, he was utterly unable to resist the temptation at least to attempt to see her again. Jones and the ships were not due at the rendezvous until the day after the next day, that would be Thursday morning. There would be ample time to rejoin them on the next day, Wednesday. O'Neill imagined himself perfectly safe; he had used no disguise except to wear the uniform of a French naval officer, and as France and England were nominally at peace, he persuaded himself that he was in no danger. It was a breach of military propriety, he admitted, of course, but nothing more,--this failure to return promptly to his ship,--and for that he was willing to suffer. With the delightful casuistry of lovers he persuaded himself against his better judgment and failed to see his action in its true military significance. Trusting to audacity, mother wit, and Dan Cupid for protection, he went bravely on. In fact, he was taking his life in his hand. His love blinded him,--it is the chief function of the cherubic god; without that power most matches he attempts would fail. Meanwhile, with a beating heart--beating not from fear, but with anticipation--he rode slowly down the hill and into the town, where he left his horse at an inn, and made his way on foot, and supperless, such his eagerness, toward the castle. He had no definite plan. There did not seem to be room for any. He had one consuming desire: to see, to speak to, to come in touch again with the beautiful girl who had been the object of his every thought, the end of his every desire, the spirit of every dream in which he had indulged since they had met. He had a thought--a hope--that she was still Elizabeth Howard. There was that in her promise, in her look, in her word, when she had said, "Come and see" on the strand, which gave him the hope that she would wait until he did come, be it one year or two; and with the sanguine spirit of his race he could not prepare himself for a disappointment. The moon had risen as he walked quietly through the town and began to mount the hill. He did not know how to gain admittance to the castle when he approached it; and as ill luck would have it, as he was standing on the causeway looking toward the gate, he was approached by a squad of soldiers under the command of a sergeant, who were returning from an errand in the town. His meditations, as he stood gazing at the lights shining from the different windows, wondering behind which wall was ensconced the idol of his heart, were rudely interrupted by the grasp of a rough hand upon his shoulder and a harsh voice in his ear saying,-- "Well, sir, wot are you a-doin' 'ere at this hour o' the night? Entrance to the castle is forbid to every one except members of the garrison, or them wich has passes. No one is allowed on the causeway after sunset even. There's so many tales of raidin's an' hell's own doin's on the coast by that bloody ravagin' pirate Jones an' his bleedin' gang, that we're a'most in a state of siege. Give an account of yourself." "My friend," said O'Neill, calmly, glancing rapidly about him, and giving up at once any idea of resistance, for he was surrounded by at least a dozen men, one or two of whom had laid violent hands upon him,--"my friend," he said, speaking in broken English, with a well-simulated French accent, "I am an officer of the King of France, travelling for pleasure through your great country. I hear of the old castle--I wish to see it--hence I come here. I have done nothing--you will let me go free?" "A Frenchman?" "Yes, monsieur, I have that honor." "Well, that settles it. You've got to come along with us now. A frog-eatin' Frenchman's our natural-born enemy." "But, monsieur, there is no war between my master and your king?" "Don't monshur me. I don't take no palaverin', an' I don't know nothin' about whether there is war or not," said the sergeant, brusquely; "but we always did hate the bloody Frenchies, an' we always will, an' whenever we ketch one of 'em around here, he's got to give an account of hisself. Now if you come along peaceable like, all right--we won't hurt you. If you don't, we'll just pick you up and carry you. You can take your choice," he added indifferently. A horseman galloping in from the town at this moment drew rein in front of the little group. "Ah, sergeant, what is it? Whom have you there?" he queried sharply. "'Tis a Frenchman, sir. We found him a-prowlin' round here. He's a spy, I takes it," answered the sergeant, saluting but still retaining his grasp. "Pardon me, monsieur," said O'Neill; "I am no spy. I am a gentleman of France, as I explain to this man. I travel--come here to see the castle--" "Well, sir, I can assist you to attain your end," interrupted the lieutenant on the horse; "and since you desire to see the castle, perhaps you would not object to taking a look at it from the inside." "As a prisoner, monsieur?" "Well, I am sorry you put it that way, but I shall be compelled to turn you over to the governor." "But I protest, monsieur!" "You can protest to the admiral if you wish, the governor, I mean, for you will have to come along now, under the circumstances. We hear that d----d Scots buccaneer Paul Jones is on the coast, and we don't know when he might strike or whom he might send on shore. We can't be too careful, you know." "Very well, monsieur, I come," said O'Neill, shrugging his shoulders and resigning himself gracefully to the inevitable. "That's good," answered the young officer. "Bring him along, sergeant." "Yes, leftenant. Now, you Johnnie, right about face, march!" It was in this unexpected and undignified manner that O'Neill gained entrance to the castle. As they walked beneath the great gates of the gloomy fortress, his heart, in spite of the serious nature of his position, gave a bound of elation. This reckless young man had as yet no other thought than that by every step he had been brought a little nearer to his divinity; if other thoughts had come, it is doubtful if he would have allowed them to stop him now. As the party halted in the courtyard, while the lieutenant dismounted and hastened to apprise the governor of the capture, he even ventured most imprudently to ask the sergeant if Lady Elizabeth Howard was in the castle. "She is," replied the astonished functionary. "Wot's that to you, I'd like to know?" CHAPTER VIII _Lady Elizabeth does not know the Marquis de Richemont_ Before he could answer, an order came for the prisoner to be brought forward. After ascending a flight of worn stone steps and going through a long dark passage, a great door was thrown open at its end, and he was confronted by a blaze of light which dazzled him at first, until, his eyes becoming accustomed to the illumination, he realized that he stood on the threshold of a splendid hall in the old keep, which had possibly once been the banqueting hall of the castle. Long lancet windows upon one side, their leaded frames filled with rich painted glass, looked out upon the sea, whose waves beating ceaselessly upon the bluff below filled the room with a subdued murmur like a strain of hushed and vibrant music, such was the elevation of the tower. The room was massively and splendidly furnished with heavy antique furniture. The stone walls were covered with hangings of rich old tapestry from the famous looms of Arras. Here and there were portraits of distinguished members of the Westbrooke family,--women renowned for their lustrous beauty, or men who, holding the castle at different times, had made their names famous by their bravery and skill. The prisoner's feet sank into a thick, soft, luxurious carpet stretched upon the stone flags of the old floor. Writing at a large table standing near the centre of the room and covered with candelabra, sat a bewigged old man of commanding presence dressed in a naval uniform covered with orders and stars bespeaking high rank. Farther away, with her back turned to the light, and to the door by which he had entered, a young woman sat, apparently reading intently. One glance at the graceful curve of her neck and the exquisite poise of her head told him it was she. Forgetful of everything else, he would have stepped forward, had it not been for the restraining hand of the sergeant. "The prisoner, m' Lud," said the latter, saluting. The admiral continued his writing a moment, and then looking up fixed his eyes keenly upon the young man. His first glance told him that he had to deal with no ordinary prisoner. He rose at once and bowed with the courtesy of a finished gentleman. "Have the goodness to step forward, sir, and be seated," he said, pointing to the chair. "Sergeant, remain on guard where you are." With an equally low bow to the older man, O'Neill took a few steps in his direction and sat down on the indicated chair in front of the admiral, facing him and the woman beyond, who, still intent upon her book or lost in thought, had not yet noticed his entrance. Prisoners, in fact, being every-day occurrences at the castle in these troublous times, they had ceased to interest her; still the unusual complaisance of the old man, as expressed by his voice and manner, attracted her attention; she looked up from the book without turning her head, and listened. "I am sorry to subject you to any annoyance, sir," continued the admiral, "but the rules are very strict, and I must abide by my own regulations. We apprehend a descent upon our coast by the notorious pirate, John Paul Jones--" O'Neill started violently and bit his lip, but said nothing--"and it is my duty to take unusual precautions," added the speaker. "I must ask your name, your station, and business here." "I am the--" said O'Neill, quietly, but with his glance fixed on the powdered head showing over the chair-back opposite him. There was a commotion at the other side of the table. Lady Elizabeth sprang to her feet with a hurried exclamation, dropped her book to the floor, and then turned quickly, and stepped toward the other two. O'Neill and the admiral both rose at the same time. She was _en grande tenue_, her hair rolled high and powdered, jewels sparkling about the snowy throat, which rose from the pale blue silk of her corsage. "It is--" she cried. "The Marquis de Richemont, at your service, mademoiselle," O'Neill interrupted quickly, bowing low before her, fearing lest in her surprise she would betray him. "Good heavens, Elizabeth! what is the meaning of this? Do you know this man?" asked the admiral, in great astonishment. "Every traveller," smilingly interrupted O'Neill, suavely, striving to give Elizabeth time to collect herself, with the appearance of the greatest _sangfroid_ himself, though his heart was beating so rapidly he could scarce maintain his composure, "on these islands has heard of the beauty of Lady Elizabeth Howard. Her reputation as a woman of charm has even extended to the continent whence I come. It was in the hope of having the privilege of seeing her that I walked up toward the castle this evening. I have not the honor of her acquaintance, monsieur." "Do you know this man, Elizabeth?" persisted the admiral, sternly, his suspicions aroused by her actions. There was evidently some mystery about his coming, and the girl was quick to see that to proclaim O'Neill's name and occupation would probably place him in an embarrassing position, to say the least. She recovered herself by a great effort, and turning away languidly, remarked with well-assumed carelessness,-- "I? Certainly not, sir. I have never heard of the Marquis de Richemont before in my life." The statement was absolutely correct, the Irishman's rank having been kept strictly in abeyance. O'Neill shrugged his shoulders and extended his hands in confirmation of her words. "Why that cry, then, and your surprise, madam?" questioned the still unconvinced admiral. "I know not, sir; I must have been dreaming, and the sound of a strange voice startled me." "Beg pardon, m' Lud," said the sergeant, saluting; "yer Worship, he axed if Lady Elizabeth Howard lived 'ere, wen he was down in the courtyard." "Silence, sirrah!" thundered the old admiral, who allowed no one to entertain doubts of his ward but himself. "Do you mean to imply that Lady Elizabeth has knowledge of this gentleman?" "Oh, sergeant!" said the girl, clasping her hands and looking at the old veteran with all the fascination of which she was capable. "No, yer Ludship, no, sir. O' course not; certainly not, yer Honor," returned the man, in great confusion. "I spoke by way o' showin' that's wot he come for." "It was in pursuance of my desire to see so great a beauty that I asked the question, monsieur." "Sir, your admiration does me too much honor," said Elizabeth, courtesying. "I make up for the fact that your reputation does your Ladyship too little, then, mademoiselle," he answered. "Enough of this," said the admiral, impatiently. "The girl is well enough; but you didn't come here to look at her, did you?" "On my honor as a gentleman, monsieur, for no other purpose." "Well, give some account of yourself otherwise, and perhaps if it be satisfactory, as you have accomplished that purpose, I may send you on your way rejoicing," said the admiral, amused at the extravagance of the young man. "No man could leave the presence of Lady Elizabeth Howard rejoicing, sir." "Damnation, sir!" cried the governor, testily, "are you going to stand here and bandy compliments about all day like a French dancing-master?" "I have nothing further to urge for my words, my Lord, when my excuse stands in your very presence." The governor looked at the two young people in great perplexity. "I fear, my dear Marquis de Richemont," said he ironically, "unless you can give some more coherent account of yourself, I shall be under the painful necessity of having you locked up, in which case the only divinity you will be allowed to gaze upon will be the lovely face and figure of yonder sergeant." "Yes, yer Ludship, I--" remarked the sergeant, grimacing. "Silence, sirrah!" thundered the admiral. "My Lord," answered O'Neill, smiling, "it is very simple. I am an officer in the navy of the King of France, making a tour of England for pleasure. I came here to this town this evening. I hear of the great admiral, Lord Westbrooke, in his great castle, and the beauty of his ward, Lady Elizabeth Howard. I am a lover of the beautiful. I stand on the causeway gazing at the castle. Your soldiers arrest me and bring me here. I rejoice to find Lady Elizabeth more beautiful than I have dreamed. A year and a half have only intensified her charms." "A year and a half! Dreams, sir! What mean you by that, pray? What have the years to do with the matter? Did you see her a year and a half since?" cried the admiral, suspiciously again. O'Neill started; it was a fatal slip, but he hastened to repair it as best he could. "I have seen her picture, sir." "And where, pray, have you seen her picture?" "In the possession of an English officer, a friend of mine whom I met at Liverpool a year and a half ago," answered O'Neill, audaciously. "And who was this English officer, pray, who displayed my picture?" interrupted Elizabeth, with an appearance of great agitation. "Major Edward Coventry, mademoiselle." "Oh, Edward! Why, God bless me," said the admiral, genially, "he is my son. Do you mean to tell me you are a friend of his? Why didn't you say so before?" "I had the honor of his acquaintance," said O'Neill, bowing gravely, "on one very interesting and memorable occasion indeed, when he was on duty at the Château Birkenhead, I believe." "Yes, that would be about a year and a half ago. Sir, in that case you are very welcome to this castle," said the admiral, "and now I beg leave to present you in due and proper form to my ward. Lady Elizabeth Howard, permit me to introduce to you the Marquis de Richemont." "I am charmed to have the pleasure of meeting the marquis," responded the girl, smiling and courtesying deeply. "The pleasure and the honor are mine, mademoiselle," responded O'Neill, fully entering upon the comedy of the moment. "And," continued the admiral, "as my son, Major Edward Coventry, has sent me word he will be here shortly, you can renew your acquaintance with him." It was as if he had exploded a bomb-shell in the room. "Edward! Coming here?" cried Elizabeth, her voice filled with terror at the unfortunate event, which she vainly endeavored to conceal. "What for? Why did you not tell me?" "He desired to surprise you, my dear," answered the admiral, wondering again at her agitation; "you know your wedding takes place next week." "Ah, a wedding!" said O'Neill, starting and looking at Elizabeth. "Mademoiselle is then to marry?" "Yes, your friend Major Coventry," replied the old man,--"an old engagement." "I refused to marry him for a year, and for six months more. I waited all that time. There was no word," she said slowly to O'Neill, as if each word were wrung from her by his intent look, her pale cheeks flooded with color. "Have you taken leave of your senses, Elizabeth?" continued the admiral, in great surprise; "of what interest to a stranger is your--er--maidenly hesitation?" "Anything which concerns so fair a lady is of deep interest to your humble servant," answered O'Neill, ironically and bitterly. The comedy had gone, tragedy, as ever, following hard upon it. A door at the rear of the room was opened softly at this moment; and a young man in the brilliant scarlet uniform of a British officer, entered and stepped lightly toward them. His glance fell first upon the speaker. "Barry O'Neill, by heaven!" he exclaimed, springing eagerly forward with outstretched hand. "How came you here?" For a moment the young soldier was oblivious of the presence of his father and his betrothed. His untimely entrance filled the room with apprehension and dismay. CHAPTER IX _The Picture on the Wall_ "O'Neill?" said the admiral, in much bewilderment; "Edward, this is your friend, the Marquis de Richemont." "Edward, do not speak!" cried Lady Elizabeth, distractedly. "Ah, Elizabeth, my love and duty to you, but not speak? About what, pray? What mean you?" "Is this gentleman, the Marquis de Richemont, your friend or not, sir? Cease this by-play, Elizabeth; I will have an explanation," demanded the now thoroughly aroused admiral. "My friend? Quite so," said Major Coventry, smiling. "Though I was ignorant that he was a marquis, he is none the less welcome. I am exceedingly glad to see him again. You too, I presume, Elizabeth?" "Glad even as you are," she replied deliberately, now seeing that further concealment was useless. "But you called him O'Neill," continued the admiral. "That is my name, sir," said O'Neill, calmly, recognizing the uselessness of further evasion. "I am one of the Irish O'Neills, formerly of County Clare, now in the service of the King of France." He could not have said it more proudly had he been the king himself. "The last time I saw you, you were on the Ranger, that American Continental ship," continued Coventry. "As a prisoner, sir?" cried the admiral. "As an officer, my Lord," answered the Irishman. "What, sir! And now you are--" "Second lieutenant of the American Continental ship Bon Homme Richard, Captain John Paul Jones, at your service," was the dauntless reply. "Good gad!" said the admiral, "is it possible? And you, Elizabeth, you have deceived me also. You knew this man?" "Yes, sir, but not as the Marquis de Richemont." "You have met this gentleman before?" "Yes, sir." "Where, may I ask, and when?" "About a year and a half since, sir. You remember when the Maidstone was wrecked? He saved me from death then, and after Captain Jones put me ashore, you know--" "He spared my life too, as well, sir, at that time," said Coventry; "they both did." "You seem to be a good hand at saving lives, Lieutenant O'Neill, Marquis de Richemont, perhaps you can think now of some way of saving your own," remarked the admiral, sarcastically. "'Tis useless to me now, my Lord, and not worth the saving," answered the young man, calmly; "but I would not have you mar the approaching nuptials of your son and ward by an execution. Let me at least live until after the wedding. I shall be more willing to die then," he added softly. "You came here for what purpose?" continued the admiral, disregarding the latter words of the young man as utterly irrelevant. "To find out the number and force and disposition of the ships in the harbor." "At the instance of--" "Captain Jones, sir." "The murdering pirate!" "I have resented such language and proved its falsity upon the person of your son, sir," burst out O'Neill, stepping forward, his hand upon his sword. "Shall I impose the same lesson on the father?" "You are a prisoner, sir," replied the admiral, imperturbably, "and are here at my pleasure to receive, not to give lessons. Stand back, sir! Sergeant, bring in a file of men for a guard. Deliver up your sword at once, sir, to Major Coventry!" "Your Lordship is master here; I obey," answered the Irishman, shrugging his shoulders, and drawing his sword, he tendered it to Major Coventry, who stepped forward reluctantly to receive it. "Father," he said respectfully, "so far as my knowledge goes, Captain Jones is certainly a gentleman. Had it not been for his magnanimity and that of my friend--I may still call you that, sir?" "I am vastly honored, sir, I am sure." "--my friend, the Marquis de Richemont, you would be childless to-day. Had it not been for the courage of this gentleman, Lady Elizabeth here--" "Oh, sir!" cried Elizabeth, impetuously, "they are men of honor. I pray you release this officer and let him go free. Nay, never shake your head; I ask it as a wedding gift to me, sir." "My liberty your wedding gift, mademoiselle? Never!" interrupted O'Neill, firmly. "Say no more, either of you," said the admiral, decisively. "You, sir, came here as an enemy, a spy." "Not so, sir. I came here in the uniform of a French officer." "But that is not the uniform of the flag under which you now serve," continued the admiral, keenly. "You may secure some consideration, however, at my hands as representing his Majesty the King, God bless him! by revealing the circumstances and plans and the ultimate purpose of your rebellious captain." "Clearly an impossible proposition," said O'Neill, bowing. "But stop!" said the admiral, "now that I recall it, you gave me your word of honor that you came here to see this lady." "And that is true, sir. I might have escaped to my ship with ease, in possession of the information I desired to get, but I came up to the castle to see her." "A most foolish excursion, sir, and why, pray?" "Because I love her," said O'Neill, calmly. "What!" cried Coventry, in great surprise and dismay. "Did you know this, Elizabeth?" "Is a woman ever ignorant of the feelings she excites in a lover's breast, sir?" O'Neill answered for her. "And have you--did you--" continued Coventry, looking still at Elizabeth. "Lady Elizabeth has done nothing, sir. No word of affection has ever crossed her lips, to me at least," again replied O'Neill. "She would not even wait." "Oh, but she did," interrupted Coventry, jealously, "a year--six months--she tried to postpone her wedding for six months more. I begin to understand." "Peace, Edward!" said Elizabeth, trembling violently; "the Marquis de Richemont is--is nothing to me--can never be anything to me, that is. The wedding shall proceed at the appointed date; I gave you my word. It was the wish of my mother, the wish of the admiral, your wish--" "And yours, also, dearest Elizabeth, is it not?" said Coventry, taking her hand entreatingly. She hesitated and stood silent. "Have me executed at once, sir, in mercy and pity," said O'Neill to the admiral; "let it be now--the sooner the better. This I cannot stand; 'tis too much." "Not so," replied the admiral, gravely; "I will consider the matter further and consult with you again. Meanwhile, if you will give me your parole, I will allow you the freedom of the castle." "Parole! 'Tis given, sir. Faith, I hardly think you could drive me away." "That's well," returned the admiral. "Sergeant, call my steward and have him assign chambers to the Marquis de Richemont. Coventry, I presume you will place your wardrobe at his disposal in case he needs anything. Now the marquis will doubtless wish to retire. We will see him in the morning. Come, Elizabeth. Good-night, sir; the sergeant will attend you." "Lord Westbrooke, I thank you. Major Coventry, your servant. Lady Elizabeth, I wish you joy on your wedding; good-night," replied the young man, bowing to them all in succession. As the admiral and the others left the room, the young lieutenant sank down on his chair and put his head upon his hands upon the table. The old sergeant, who had seen it all, watched him a moment in silence. Walking up to him finally, and laying his hand on his shoulder with the familiarity of a privileged character, he said,-- "Come now, sir, be a soldier." "You can give no worse advice than that to a sailor, my friend," replied O'Neill, rising and smiling in spite of his misery. "Lead on, I will follow," he added. As they passed down the great hall, the eyes of the wretched lieutenant fell upon a large picture hanging rather low on the wall in a far corner above a dais near the doorway. It was the portrait of a beautiful woman in the fashion of some fifty years back. She was seated in a great carved oak chair, the counterpart of and evidently painted from one sitting beneath it. In face and feature the portrait was a striking likeness of Lady Elizabeth Howard. The skill of the painter had been so great, the colors had been so nicely chosen, so delicately laid on, that in the flickering, uncertain candle-light, which left this part of the room in a rather deep shadow, the picture actually seemed to breathe. O'Neill stopped as if petrified. "Come along, sir," said the sergeant, gruffly. "A moment, if you please, my friend--a moment. What sort of a man are you to pass by such as this without notice? It should be Lady Elizabeth, but the fashion of the dress--" "It's her mother, sir, a cousin of the admiral's. I pass it every day, sir, an' I've got so I don't take no notice on it, no more. She was a young thing, scarce older than her young Leddyship when she set for that paintin', an' they had no children for years, leastaways they all died till this baby was born, an' then she died too. I've been attached to the admiral's service in one way or another sence I was a boy, an' dandled her many a time on my knee. Yes, and her young Leddyship, Lady Elizabeth that is, too, wen she was a little girl." "My regard for you goes up a thousand-fold, my friend," said O'Neill, smiling; "I could almost envy you your opportunities. Would I had been you!" "'Tain't no use wishin' that," said the old sergeant, shaking his head; "there never was no Frenchman could ever take my place." "Quite right," replied O'Neill, smiling; "'twould be clearly impossible." "Come along, then, yer Honor." "Stay a moment," returned the enraptured Irishman; "a year at gaze would not sate me with the beauty of this picture. How like is the fair image!" murmured the entranced young man, approaching nearer and fairly holding his breath under the influence of the moment. He stretched out his hand toward the painting with a little reverential gesture. "Look out, sir!" said the sergeant, warningly; "the picture hangs very loose, an' the frame--" What evil fate was it that determined its fall at that moment? There was a tremendous crash, something gave way, and the great frame dropped from its place on the wall and fell across the heavy oaken chair which stood beneath it, and the picture was impaled upon its Gothic points. The two men sprang to seize it and lift it up. Alas! it had been literally torn to pieces. The canvas had evidently been originally a defective one, for it had split in every direction. Restoration was clearly impossible. "Good Heaven!" said the Irishman, "what a misfortune!" "It had to come, an' it's too late to be mended now," said the sergeant, philosophically, "so we must get on." "Very good," said O' Neill, tenderly lifting the frame, with the rags of the tattered canvas hanging to it, back against the wall; "there is nothing to keep us here now. Unlucky fool that I am, even the semblance of the original is not for me!" CHAPTER X _Lady Elizabeth will keep her Word_ The night fell on three of the most unhappy people in the world; yet to each had been vouchsafed a partial realization of a cherished hope. Coventry should have been luxuriating in the thought of his approaching marriage to the girl he loved; Elizabeth should have been overwhelmed with joy at the reappearance of O'Neill, after his long absence; and O'Neill during that time had asked for nothing but an opportunity to stand once more in the presence of his divinity. The desire of each had been granted, and yet all three were completely miserable. Coventry, because he more than suspected that Elizabeth loved O'Neill; Elizabeth, because she felt that honor compelled her to marry Coventry, to whom she was deeply attached, but toward whom her feelings, she now found, were vastly different from those which had flooded her being with new life at the sight of the young Irishman. Her period of waiting and dreaming had unconsciously developed a passion for him which had broken all barriers at the mere sound of his voice, the sight of his face. As for O'Neill, he found her fairer than he had ever thought even in his most extravagant dreams, and it was in an agony of despair that he contemplated her as the bride of another. There was this saving grace in his position, however: he would probably be condemned to death forthwith, and he was in no mood to balk the executioner; if ever death be welcome, it would be so to him. The only one who was completely at his ease, and who, in fact, extracted a certain satisfaction from the situation, was the admiral. Naturally he did not enter very deeply into the matrimonial schemes of the young, and with the indifference of the aged and the present, he doubted that it would be a matter of any great difficulty either to make Elizabeth forget, if necessary, the Irishman in whom even his obtuse vision had detected that she was greatly interested; or, in case it suited his purpose better, to make his son forget Elizabeth in the presence of some other charmer whom he might select. His purpose was, as ever, the paramount consideration with the admiral. He had conceived a brilliant idea, which he fondly hoped would result, were it to be realized, in the capture of the notorious Paul Jones, who was the object of consuming desire on the part of every military and naval man in the three kingdoms. So enchanted was the old man with his own idea, and so desirous was he of bagging the game, that he would not have hesitated to sacrifice the affections of his son, the happiness of his ward, or to brush aside almost anything, save his honor, which might stand in his way. The young Irishman had clearly forfeited his life by his action; nay, more, now that he recalled his name he remembered that he had been found guilty of high treason, and, like his father, was under sentence of death for that as well; he had a double hold upon him, therefore. The powers of the admiral, who was one of the leading men of the realm, were unusually large, and as a state of martial law had been proclaimed on the coast, he was supreme as to life and death, in matters where any military exigency could be urged. He chuckled to himself at the thought that he held in his hand two of the master cards,--love of life and love of woman; the third, love of honor, which O'Neill was possessed of, was a high one, to be sure, but he trusted by clever play to win the game, since the odds were with him. Elizabeth had become a State paper--a pledge in pawn--to him; O'Neill another piece, or player. He had not yet formulated any plan for carrying out his great idea, but one was already germinating in his mind, so that in the end, under the stimulus of the splendid opportunity he saw before him for rounding out an already brilliant career in the service of his country, by effecting the capture of the famous Paul Jones, his hours were as sleepless as were those of the others. The poor Irish lieutenant had caused a great deal of trouble to every one with whom he had come in contact. Even Paul Jones himself, who loved and cherished the young man with all his generous heart, was filled with deep anxiety as to his probable fate, when he heard the report of old Price the next day, especially as the hours fled away and his lieutenant did not rejoin the ship. In spite of the absence of the rest of his squadron, the commodore at once hastened to the rendezvous with the Richard alone, and there determined to take a small hand in the game himself while waiting for the Pallas, the Alliance, and the others to assemble. Cautious inquiries which he caused to be made on shore had informed him that, as he expected, O'Neill had been apprehended. A less kindly man than Paul Jones would have left him to his fate--but that was not his way. Early the next morning, being Wednesday, September the twenty-second, O'Neill had arisen and gone down on the terrace of the castle overlooking the ocean and the ships in the harbor, where he met Lady Elizabeth. She was gazing listlessly over the causeway at a horseman galloping along the road. "Do I interrupt reminiscences of a _tête-à-tête_, madam?" said he, saluting her with a profound bow. "Reminiscences such as mine are better interrupted," she replied. "You were--" "Saying good-bye to my--my--cousin." "Has your ladyship no dearer title than that by which to designate him?" "Not yet," she answered wearily. "Ah, I perceive," he continued jealously, "the natural regret at the absence of your betrothed, for--" "No, no, not that! How can you trifle so with me at this moment? He reproached me because I--why do I tell you these things? You constrain me, sir; I--" "Forgive me; you need not finish, Lady Elizabeth," he said with a sudden gravity. "As for me, I must needs trifle, or die. Life in the freshness of the morning, the white-capped ocean stretching before us in the sunlight, the gentle breeze playing across our faces, is sweet to think on; with youth and rank and station, it would be heavenly spent with you. Without you I welcome the death your guardian will undoubtedly inflict upon me." "Yet you waited so long--a year and a half--why did you not come? I--" She stopped. She had spoken in a low, tender whisper, looking down at the sea beneath them, and plucking nervously at the loose plaster of the old walk. Death so imminent for love and lover--nay, not for love; that were eternal--broke down petty convention. Where were death and love, there, too, should truth and honesty be--and honor. He laid his strong hand gently down on the small white one outlined upon the gray weather-beaten rock of the parapet; with upturned palm she met his grasp. Her eyes were lifted now; she drew strength from his strength; a dawning hope flickered into being in her torn heart. He was so strong and true, he surely could do something--there must be some other way. It was the tribute woman pays to man. He read aright, with eyes keen from affection, the mute, piteous appeal in her sweetly lifted face. But he could only smile sadly in answer, with a silent shake of the head. There was no other way, then, in the marked path she must walk. Have mercy, Lord! "Was it long to you, dearest?" he queried, his dark face aflame. "To me--I have been a fool. Nothing should have kept me from you. To trust to messengers, letters--a fool--too late!" Silence. The hands unclasped; ties were broken. "Too late!" He turned bitterly away. "Would that we had met in happier days!" she murmured sadly, making a brave effort at self-control. "No reproaches, Lady Elizabeth," he answered, the touch of formality in the address showing his own equal strife. "What must be, must be! At least I have met you before I die, and for a year and a half I have thought of you, and dreamed of you, and held you the lady of my heart. E'en death itself cannot rob me of that sweet joy--for it is past." They looked apart, and heard above the voice of the great deep, the unfathomable sound of the moaning surge far beneath them, chafing against the pebbles in the still morning, the wild beating of their hearts; after a little pause he continued more softly,-- "And you--you will forget the young Irishman, the soldier of fortune, whom untoward fate threw across your pathway; and in your own English home, and in the love of your noble husband, may you be happy." "Nay, not so," she said softly, taking his hand again, her eyes filling with tears; this time she was the stronger. "My heart is not made of such fickle stuff. I shall do my duty, keep my plighted word--even you would have me do no less than that--but not more steadfastly than I shall keep you within my recollection. But do not talk of death, you must not; I know the admiral--he has a kindly heart--" "I would not live," replied the young man, quietly, "for life is death when the heart is dead." "Tell me," asked the girl, nervously breaking the almost insupportable silence, "were you there when my mother's picture fell last night?" "Yes, so near to it that it almost fell into my arms," he answered, smiling. "A bad omen!" she murmured, shaking her head. "What, that it should fall into my arms?" "No, that it should fall at all." "Well, I do not believe in omens, and 'tis in the arms of another that you fall, at any rate. He gets the substance, I the shadow, the illusion--and even that is broken!" "And so even the shadow is lost," said Elizabeth. "Not yet. Open my heart, you will find it there," he answered quickly. "But how like you the portrait was!" "Yes, I am said to look like my mother," she answered, striving, as we all do in tragic moments, to reach the height of the commonplace. "In the dress I now wear, under the changing fashions, the likeness is not so striking; but when I am gowned as she was, in the identical costume, which is still in existence, by the way, and sit as she did, in the dim light in that old chair, the resemblance is even more striking." "Would that I might see you thus--in that dress of the olden time! Nothing except your actual presence in the hall has ever startled me so much as that image of the past did last night. You are so like the picture, but more beautiful, I think." "Ah, yes, youth and the present are always the more beautiful. The admiral says I am not to be mentioned beside her--he loved her, I think--she was his cousin; they tell me she married very young, unhappily, too, and died when I was born, many years after. My father, too, died; I can scarcely remember him at all; I am alone." "There should be a warning in this, should there not?" he asked softly; an idle question, fate had determined. "I suppose so," replied the girl, wearily; "but what was I to do? The arrangement was made when I was a child. I have grown up with Edward Coventry, he loves me, he is a noble fellow, I respect--esteem him highly. It is a long-cherished wish of the admiral's; it was my mother's wish as well. I put him off, in spite of the engagement, for a year--for six months again," she said, with a glance the fond reproach of which cut him to the heart. "I promised him, on my word of honor, if he would only wait that time I would make no further objections. I cannot break that word now." "Not even for me?" "No, not even for you." "But you do not love him?" he asked eagerly. "Yes," she answered slowly; "I do--in a way, that is." "But not like--" "Enough, Lieutenant O'Neill!" she answered proudly, resuming, perforce, her erstwhile haughty air, which was belied by a deep flush on her cheeks. "'Tis not generous of you to press me further. I--we have decided. I can stand no more. Forgive me-- Have mercy!" "I respect your decision; nay, more, I honor you for it, Lady Elizabeth," he answered gravely. "I kiss your hand and go to my death smiling. Forget me." "Your death!" she cried in alarm. "What mean you?" "The admiral, sir, would speak with you in the office at once," interrupted the sergeant, who had approached with a file of soldiers. "You see--the summons," replied O'Neill, calmly, to Elizabeth. "Friend, I attend you--good-bye." CHAPTER XI _O'Neill will keep his Honor_ The admiral had fully matured his plans during the night, and was prepared to make the assault upon the fortifications of O'Neill's honor at the most convenient season. In order to have a clear field for his operations, he had despatched his son upon an errand which would necessitate his absence until the evening. It had been with his full knowledge that his captive had been allowed to meet and converse with his ward. He trusted more to the fascinations of that young woman to effect his end, than to any other known agency, in fact. Beauty and affection when allied have ever been most potent weapons, even when used to promote the cause of treachery and dishonor. Not that the admiral himself would have done anything he considered dishonorable. He would rather have cut off his right hand, which had done such stout service for his king, he would sacrifice his life, his son's life, anything, rather than jeopard it; but he would not hesitate to cajole the young Irishman into betraying his leader if he could. Though he should despise him if he acceded to the terms he would propose, yet he would not refrain from making use of him, even to his own undoing, if possible. 'Twas the custom of war, and the obloquy which in similar instances has ever been heaped upon the tempted has not seemed to attach itself to the tempter under such conditions. Still the admiral did not rejoice in the situation, and he could not make up his mind just how much it was necessary to offer. He had rather an uncomfortable feeling that he could go very far, and then not succeed after all; yet the greatness of the stake for which he played, he thought, would justify his action, for the person of John Paul Jones was certainly more coveted than that of any other man who had ever warred against the English flag. The governor had under his immediate command two excellent frigates, the Serapis, 44, and the Scarborough, 28; and if through his planning and foresight they should capture Jones and his ships, he might aspire to any honor in the gift of the king. "Good-morning, my dear marquis," he said pleasantly, as soon as the young lieutenant was ushered into the office. "Good-morning to your Lordship," answered O'Neill, bravely. "I have sent for you to give you the run of the castle to-day," continued the admiral, much to his prisoner's surprise. "I shall be occupied with preparations rendered necessary by the advent of your friends the Americans, and urgent business required that I despatch your acquaintance, my son, on an errand which will keep him away until evening. Meanwhile, I leave you to the tender mercies of my ward, the Lady Elizabeth. In the evening I shall have something of great importance to say to you. You will give me your parole, of course, and I trust that you may have a pleasant day." "In the presence of Lady Elizabeth, sir, all moments are hours of pleasure. I can never sufficiently thank you for your indulgence. You have crowned the victim with a chaplet of roses before offering him upon the altar," answered the bewildered officer. He suspected something; but in the thought of another day with his heart's desire, he resolutely put aside all other things--one day, in the strain of life, so much gained! "Never mind about the altar now," said the admiral. "Enjoy the day, and perhaps the termination of it may fit its beginning." Such a day as the two young people passed together comes not often in earthly calendars. There was one subject which was forbidden them by honor and discretion. They therefore talked of other things and thought only of that, and the restraint in which each was held made their true opinions as open to each other as the day itself. They wandered together about the castle walls, gazed out upon the sparkling sea, and allowed themselves to dream that the day would never end. They forgot the black future, and lived only in the fleeting moments of the present; 'tis the habit of youth and love. When the night fell they separated reluctantly, to meet again by her appointment in half an hour in the great hall, for what reason he knew not; that she wished it was sufficient for him. There had come into Elizabeth's head a quaint conceit. She wished to surprise him. As she left him she ran hastily to the ancient wardrobe in her private apartment in which, with the prudent forethought of our ancestors, her mother's wedding robe was laid away in sprigs of lavender. Hastily doffing her own garments, and assisted by the skilful fingers of her maid, she arrayed herself therein. The body of the dress was of heavily brocaded white satin, worn over moderate hoops; the bodice was cut low and square across the neck and shoulders and terminated in a pointed stomacher of delicate pale blue, laced over the front with silver cord. The short, rather full sleeves edged with priceless lace left the sweet young arms bare to the dimpled elbow. The overdress or panier, looped with gold cord on either side, was of a fugitive shade of pale wild rose; the dress was lifted in front to show her dainty feet in their diamond-buckled, preposterously high-heeled, pointed-toed, blue satin shoes, and rose-colored, gold-clocked stockings. When she stood up, a little train swept the floor. The old-fashioned waist of the gown was very _decolleté_; she blushed at the thought of it; but as it was in the picture, she draped it with delicate tulle, less white than her neck itself, and caught here and there by tiny diamond stars, and so she put it bravely on. To re-dress her hair was an easy matter; the low coiffure, with the hair unpowdered and rolled above her broad, low brow, after the style of the beautiful but venal Pompadour, and adorned with three delicate white ostrich tips, and with a string of pearls intertwined in its meshes, was most becoming. With eager hands rummaging among her mother's jewels, she soon found and twined the brilliant necklace of the picture about her throat; on her breast she pinned a great sunburst of diamonds, in the midst of which flashed a gleaming sapphire. A little black patch or two on her cheeks completed her preparations. Then, full of anticipation for her lover, she ran down to the hall. To her great disappointment, the room was empty; he had not yet come. She waited a moment; her eyes fell upon the frame from which the remnants of the tattered painting had been removed, which was leaning on a dais in front of an alcove against the wall, just beneath the spot where the picture had hung. A new thought occurred to her. Why not? She eagerly pushed the old chair behind the frame, arranged it as it had been in the picture, and sat down in exactly the same position her mother had assumed when the portrait had been painted. She had often practised it before the mirror, and had acquired the pose perfectly. The rich, dark old tapestry of Arras formed an appropriate background, and life and love and expectation threw a light in her eyes and painted upon her cheek hues that no skill, however cunning, could have duplicated, no palette save that of Nature in her rarest mood supplied. The girl had forgotten, for the moment, her engagement to another; she had forgotten the impending fate which hung over the man she truly loved. She was only a woman--loving--beloved--waiting. The thought of his surprise, the consciousness of her own beauty, deepened the color on her cheeks, and the palpitation of her bosom told of the beating of her heart. She looked hastily about her, and, as the door opened, settled herself in the position of sweet repose of the picture. Never had earth borne a fairer woman. The first sound that struck her ear was the somewhat harsh voice of her guardian. A wave of disappointment swept across her. She half rose, as if to discover herself, and then, as she heard her lover's voice, she sank back and waited, motionless and expectant. "Lieutenant Barry O'Neill, Marquis de Richemont, I bid you good evening," said the admiral, genially. "Sir, good evening to you," replied O'Neill, something warning him of an impending struggle. "Allow me," said the admiral, passing his snuffbox, from which both gentlemen helped themselves elaborately. "I have here," continued the old man, drawing a piece of paper from the desk as they walked toward the centre of the room, neither of them noticing the picture at the moment, as it was behind them, "some account of the life and adventures of one Gerald O'Neill, sometime gentleman of the County Clare in Ireland, who rebelled against his gracious Majesty King George II., of blessed memory, in the year 1745. His lands were escheated to the crown, his life forfeited. Unfortunately for us, and fortunately for him, he escaped to the continent, entered the service of Louis XV., and became--" "You may spare me any further details, my Lord. I know them too well. He became a marshal of France and my father." "Two great honors, surely," said the admiral, smiling pleasantly. "I thank your Lordship for the compliment; pray proceed." "I have here, also, a brief account of the history of another gentleman in whom I doubt not you are deeply interested." "And that is--" "One Barry O'Neill, Marquis de Richemont." "Your very humble servant, sir." "Your discrimination does you honor, marquis," said the admiral, playfully. "Faith, sir, you read me an easy riddle." "I find that you have been concerned in every treasonable plot against his Majesty which has been hatched on the continent since you were out of leading strings." "Rather hard, but true, sir. Ah Irishman, you know, is naturally a rebel and a conspirator." "Quite so; and those who are not drowned may expect to be hanged," said the admiral, sternly. "As I am a sailor, I might reasonably have hoped for the former end, but I have forfeited my rights by coming on shore, I suppose." He paused, and as the admiral nodded gravely, he continued with well-simulated indifference: "'Tis not a pleasant mode of death, my Lord, nor one that I would have chosen, nor one that is becoming a gentleman; but I trust I shall meet it with equanimity at least," replied O'Neill, a little paler than before, but still dauntlessly smiling. "I am glad to see that you are a man of such resolution, sir," said the admiral. "If your discretion equal your courage, the matter may be arranged." "It is useless to try it," was the reply; "to have known your ward, to have seen her, and to know that she is destined for the arms of another, makes life a hell, and death a pleasure." "Is it so?" said the admiral, pausing. "Think of the days of your own youth, sir, and one that you loved, and you will understand me." The admiral reflected. The stake he was playing for was so high, his desire was so great--like the woman who hesitated, he fell. There would be some way out of it, surely. As he drew near to the moment and to the goal, his overwhelming desire took possession of him, and blinded him; desire blinds as well as love. "Even that," finally he said slowly, looking meaningly at O'Neill the while, "may be arranged." "Good God!" said O'Neill, white to the lips. "What is it you would have me do? Speak! Titles, rank, station, friends, fame, opportunities, life itself, would I cheerfully give for her who has taken possession of me. Speak, my Lord!" cried the young man, entreatingly. The heart of the girl in the picture frame in the dark corner stopped its beating. The gates of heaven, as it were, had been opened before her. What was the proposition? "Listen!" said the admiral, slowly, at last. He was sure he had him now. "I could settle the course of the world while I wait for your reply, sir. Delay no longer, I pray you; I am in a torture of apprehension," said O'Neill, eagerly. "I design not to take from you rank nor station nor lands nor position," replied the admiral. "I offer you a free pardon for all your past offences; nay, it shall cover your father's as well, if you wish. There shall be a restoration of the ancient lands of your venerable house. I will put your feet upon a ladder by which you may rise to the very highest position. I open before you vistas of honorable advancement in the service of your rightful king in your native land, in which there is no limit to which a man of courage may not attain." "These are nothing," said the young man, impetuously, "beside Lady Elizabeth Howard; some of the things you mention I now have, some I do not wish, some are nothing to me. But your ward, sir, what of her?" "Oh, what a lover is there!" whispered to herself the girl in the picture frame, forgetting the pose, clasping her white hands and leaning forward with shining eyes, blushing cheeks, and parted lips, listening with wildly beating heart. This in her breast now was love, indeed,--in no way like to the pale affection with which she regarded the unfortunate Coventry. The admiral spoke again, fixing his eye upon the young man. His words came slowly. "Well, sir, I will even agree to interpose no objections to your suit for the hand of my ward." "But that is tantamount to giving your consent, my Lord," said O'Neill, coming nearer to him in great surprise, his heart bounding--and yet there must be some conditions to the royal gift. The admiral bowed. "And Major Coventry?" cried the Irishman. "His desires must give way to--er--reasons of state," said the admiral, decisively. "I will arrange all that; if you can obtain her consent to your suit, she is yours, provided--" he paused significantly. Ah! the conditions! "My consent!" thought Elizabeth, happiness flooding her like a wave; and then she remembered that she was a woman, and indignation found a lodgement in her being. 'Twas not thus she would be wooed and won, not in this bartering way disposed of. By what right did any one--even her guardian--presume to-- O'Neill was speaking again. "What are the conditions--what is it you wish me to do? If it be in human power, 'tis done. Torment me no more; as you are a man and have a heart, speak!" In his agitation the younger man seized the elder by the arm. "I desire you to go back to your ship and arrange to put in my possession the person of John Paul Jones," said the admiral, with the greatest deliberation, concealing his anxiety by an appearance of great firmness, as he nonchalantly helped himself to a pinch of snuff. An accurate observer would have noticed that the trembling of his hands belied his simulated calmness. It was out now! What would the man say or do? Elizabeth sank back appalled. So this was the condition; this was the test. He was to choose between her and black treachery--dishonor! His answer, what would it be? Had her idol feet of clay, after all? Her fate hung in the balance; she could never survive his shame if he fell; if not--ah! O'Neill released the admiral at once, stared at him a long moment in horrified silence, shrank away from him, and sank down in the chair and buried his face in his hands for a little space; his two auditors waited, hope for different results trembling in either heart. Presently he looked up and rose to his feet. "Treachery--dishonor--shame! And with her innocence and youth and beauty you bait your trap!" ejaculated O'Neill, brokenly. The admiral still played with his snuffbox, his eyes averted, his hands trembling still. Was it age, or-- "Oh, my God, my God!" continued the sailor, stricken to the very heart, "to raise my hopes to such a pitch--to put the cup of happiness to my very lips--to open the gates of heaven in my very presence--and couple your propositions with this--this infamy! I am a lover, sir, you know it well; but you should not have forgotten that I am, before everything else, a gentleman. How could you do it? It ill becomes your years," he went on impetuously, in mounting indignation. "I am your prisoner--your captive; but I knew not that misfortune gave you a right to insult me thus My Lord, my Lord, the ladder upon which you put my feet leads down, not up; hell, not heaven, is its end!" "Think!" said the admiral, doggedly, feeling the game was lost, but, like a desperate gamester, playing on. "The Lady Elizabeth is at the end, where'er it be." "I love her, God only knows how much I love her; from the moment I saw her I have had no thought but for her. I could not look her in the face and be guilty of this thing." The girl in the picture almost cried aloud for joy in this triumph of her lover's honor. "She shall never know," replied the admiral. "I will pledge my word of honor." The honor of the tempter, for the dishonor of the tempted! O'Neill laughed bitterly. "It has not in forty years of service been called in question," replied the old man, stifling his growing shame. "Nor has mine," said O'Neill, "until this hour. You are her guardian--an old man--your gray hairs should protect you; but 'tis well for you that I have no sword, for I swear I would plunge it first into your heart and then into my own!" "Think what it is I offer," persisted the other. "Compare it to what you now have in the way of worldly honor. What do you care for that bit of striped bunting and those beggarly rebels who have presumed to declare a republic? What is a republic, anyway, and what function has it in a gentleman's life, pray? What have we to do with the common people? What are their aspirations to you? What affiliations have you for that low-born gardener, turned pirate and buccaneer to ravage our coasts, dishonor our flag? This is the kingdom in which you were born. Here your rightful allegiance is due. I offer you, for the giving up of a--sentiment which possesses you, the favor of your king and the hand of the woman you love,--every earthly thing to make you happy. You are an exile, a wanderer, a soldier of fortune. I give you a country again." "And do you, a man of honor, advise me to--" "Damnation, sir! I advise nothing, I offer; the decision rests with you." "Ah, I thought so; and what would you do in my place, sir?" "I'm not there, thank God!" said the old man, fervently; "and I repeat, you must decide yourself." "Very good, sir. It is true that I like not that republic, its principles are nothing to me; but I have found that gardener's son a man--ay, a gentleman! You have called me a landless man, an exile, a soldier of fortune,--that, too, is true. But to Captain Jones and his service I have pledged my honor; 'tis all I have; the stars and stripes are become my flag; I wear the uniform, I eat the bread, of the United States. You may break my heart, destroy my life; you cannot break my word. There is not power and place enough in the three kingdoms, no, not even on their throne, not beauty enough even in Elizabeth Howard to tempt me--to compel me to do that. Say no more. You have your answer." CHAPTER XII _Gentlemen All_ "Look, you fool!" said the admiral, roughly, furious with rage at being balked in this way, though, in spite of himself, his heart exulted in the nobility of the man. "Look, you beggarly Irishman!" he exclaimed, turning the surprised young man about before he could recover himself,--"look on the picture of her whom you reject! Gaze upon it! If you love her, say whether or no your high-flown sentiments of honor can stand against that prospect." It was his final appeal, win or lose; he had staked all upon the throw. There in the great frame stood the most beautiful picture that the eyes of either man had ever seen. Elizabeth was standing. One tiny hand clutched tightly her heaving bosom; the other arm was stretched out with upraised palm like a goddess in command. The light of the flickering candles cast subtle shadows upon her face. The dusk of the room intensified the illusion and spiritualized her beauty. O'Neill looked at her with all his life in his gaze; so glorious, so splendid, so perfect a creature would shake the very soul of honor itself! The admiral had played his last card; this was the end of his resource, and he watched the Irishman with all the intensity of a tiger about to spring on its prey. The moments fled. He knew that he had lost. Elizabeth had risen in the stress of her anxiety, the strain had been too much for her; she had been about to intervene between them, when the glances of the two men arrested her step. She waited, one little foot outstretched, her body leaning forward slightly, a picture of triumph, her eyes as two lambent flames playing upon her lover. He watched her in awestruck silence, sank on his knees, stretched out his arms, murmuring softly,-- "Thou knowest that I love thee. I have dreamed sometimes that in happier days thou mightest have given me thy heart, but I could not take it with a bar sinister of shame between us! No--" Was she moving! Was that some trick of the wavering light! "Good heavens!" cried O'Neill, fearfully, rising. "See--is it a spirit? She shakes her head! Look you, my Lord, she is alive; the picture fell last night, you remember-- 'Tis herself! Elizabeth, Elizabeth, you have heard and seen--have I not decided well?" "How dare you, my Lord!" exclaimed the girl, coming down from the dais and stepping swiftly toward the astonished admiral, who shrank back from her,--"how dare you make my hand the reward of treachery; my person the bait for dishonor? And by what right do you dispose of me without consulting me? Am I a slave, that you force me upon this gentleman? My word is given to your son; you yourself insisted upon it. You would play the traitor double, and would fain make him do the same. And for what? To compass the death of one poor man to whom I owe life and honor, who is only fighting for what he calls his freedom! Shame upon your gray hairs, sir! Oh, the insult to my modesty--to be thus bandied about between two men-- And you, sir!" she cried, in tempestuous passion, turning to O'Neill,--"you do me the honor to refuse me--to reject me--me--me--Elizabeth Howard--look at me--you would have none of me--" "My honor--" cried O'Neill, amazed at her sudden change and inconsistency. "Your honor--have I any honor, sir? Would you have left me a shadow of it between you? Stand back, sir! My Lord, is it thus you discharge the trust committed to you by my mother? To give this gentleman opportunity to return to France, and say that he has refused my hand?" "He shall not go back to France, Lady Elizabeth," said the admiral, sternly. "Why not, pray?" asked Elizabeth, faltering, her passionate anger checked by the admiral's word and look. "Because he shall be tried and hanged to-morrow as an American spy or a captured traitor, whichever he may elect." She stood as if petrified at these cruel words. "It is right, sir," said O'Neill. "I submit; and if you would make me die happy, say that the hideous proposition I have had from you was but the test of my honor." "Oh, sir!" cried Elizabeth, in agony, throwing herself upon her knees before the admiral, "forgive me for my wild, intemperate speech; I know not what I say. You have been a father to me from the beginning, and I have ever loved you as one; I have turned to you for everything. Unsay your cruel words! Retract this order! You cannot condemn this honest gentleman. Dispose of me as you will. I love him--I love him--ay, let the truth be heard--even for his rejection of me! Nay, had he not done so, I would have hated him. Spare his life--I will marry Edward, do anything you wish--grant me this boon!" "I cannot," said the admiral, slowly; "I pity you, from my soul I do, and him as well, but I dare not. There is but one thing that would excuse my clemency to his Majesty--there is the alternative he has nobly rejected: die he must, or give up his captain!" "A thousand deaths rather than that!" answered O'Neill. "Rise, Lady Elizabeth; your appeal is vain. Rejoicing in your approval of my action, thankful to God that I have heard you say, 'I love you,' I shall die happy." "No, no!" said the girl, spreading her arms protectingly before him, and then throwing herself upon his breast, "you cannot die--you shall not die! Oh, my love, my love, I knew not until I heard you speak what this feeling was. I cannot let you go! Surely, you would never be so cruel as to part us now?" she cried brokenly, looking back at the impassive old man; his hands were steady enough now,--they never trembled but from shame. "What has he done? He came here to see me,--me alone,--to take me in his arms as he holds me now; and you condemn him to death for that! Did you never love when you were young? They whispered that it was my mother who had your heart. They told me that she was unhappy because they forced you apart. 'Twas to you she confided me. Have pity, in her name, have mercy!" "Enough!" said the admiral; "it is not that I will not, but I cannot. He has chosen; he must die." "Then may death come to me," said Elizabeth; "because, for all eternity, I love him!" "And this," broke in the cold, stern voice of Major Coventry, who had entered the room at that moment, "is the welcome I receive from my bride of to-morrow, and this is the reward of the efforts I have made to secure the release of the Marquis de Richemont, my friend! May God have pity on me,--my sweetheart and my friend!" "Sir!" said O'Neill, brokenly, "I crave your forgiveness. I knew that she was yours--I do not understand how we got into this position," passing his hand over his forehead in bewilderment; "but this I know,--I am to die! There is no choice. She will yet be yours." "Never--never!" cried Elizabeth, turning to him. "Edward, if you have truly loved me,--if I have rightly estimated you, your nobility of soul, your generosity of heart,--you will plead for us with your father. You will give me up; you are too proud to take an unwilling bride, and one who in spite of herself--for I have fought against it for your sake--confesses that she loves another. You will intercede with your father--I will bless you all the days of my life. Edward, Edward, the companion of my childhood's hours--my friend--my brother--my only hope is in you! Speak!" She fell at his feet and clasped his hand, which she covered with kisses. There was another silence. Coventry covered his face with his other hand; the sweat of agony bedewed his brow. "Rise, Elizabeth, you shall not put your trust in me in vain," he cried hoarsely, at last. "Father, can nothing be done? I will not stand in the way." "My son--Lady Elizabeth--Lieutenant O'Neill--there is nothing that can be done. My duty is perfectly clear. The only possible salvation of the prisoner would be in the action which he has refused even to consider; and, sir, if it were my duty to effect, if possible, the capture of your captain and his ship through you, I can only say that I am glad that I have failed. I apologize to you; you are a man of honor, indeed, sir. I know few who would have resisted such a plea as this. Say no more, Elizabeth, it is not that I will not--I cannot! Edward, here is my seal. Make out the warrant for an order for a court-martial to-morrow morning; it is a necessary form, of course. The execution of Lieutenant O'Neill will follow at once." Elizabeth did not faint,--no, not yet; there would be time for that later. She clung to O'Neill and listened. "What shall be the manner of my death, sir?" queried the latter. "Hanging, sir. 'Tis the penalty prescribed by the law." "It is a poor death for a man, my Lord, but 'twill serve. A last request, sir. I am a sailor--may I be hanged upon a ship?" he asked again, pressing the trembling woman to his breast. "I grant that--would that I could grant more! Major Coventry, you will direct Captain Pearson of the Serapis to execute the sentence of the court, which will meet on his ship, the prisoner to be confined there meanwhile. You will find the papers in the library; here is my seal; hasten, and get the painful matter over." Coventry left the room at once, in obedience to his orders. "And at what time, sir, will the sentence be carried out?" asked O'Neill, Elizabeth still clinging to him, covering him with incoherent caresses, and fighting against despair. "To-morrow evening at half after six o'clock." "Very well, my Lord." At this moment the old sergeant entered the room and saluted the admiral. "A French officer, wich he says he's from the American Continental squadron, has come ashore in a small cutter, under a flag of truce, an' desires to speak with your Lordship. He asks for a safe-conduct." "Tell him he shall return as freely as he came, on the word of a British officer, and admit him." A slender, dapper little man, in the brilliant uniform of a French marine officer, his head covered with a powdered wig, entered the room a moment later, and bowed profoundly. Elizabeth started violently as she beheld him. "Whom have I the honor of addressing?" asked the admiral. "The Vicomte de Chamillard, a colonel of marines in the navy of France, serving as a volunteer in the American squadron," was the reply. "And you come on behalf of--" "Captain John Paul Jones, to protest against your unlawful detention of another French officer, the Marquis de Richemont, my Lord." "He is a spy, caught in the very act: he has admitted it; and if that were not enough, I find he is an attainted traitor. A court is ordered for to-morrow morning on the Serapis; his execution, which will be inevitable, is set for half after six o'clock in the evening; he shall hang from one of the frigate's yard-arms." "De Chamillard," said O'Neill, "you can do nothing." "The laws of war--" persisted the Frenchman. "It is in accordance with those laws that I do what I do," replied the admiral, shortly; "and you may say to your captain that if I catch him he shall swing from the first yard-arm that comes in the harbor." "I am answered, then. Very good; I shall remember your courteous words, my Lord; and now I enter my formal protest against this unwarranted action on your part concerning the Marquis de Richemont. The King of France will have something to say about it. I bid you farewell." "Farewell, sir," said the admiral, indifferently turning away. "De Richemont, good-bye; embrace me." As the two men came together, the Frenchman whispered, "This woman--is she your friend?" "Yes," replied O'Neill, quickly. "Mademoiselle," said De Chamillard, turning to Elizabeth with a keen look in his eyes. Recognizing him at last, she stretched out her hand to him. He murmured as he bent low over it, "Delay the execution for at least six hours, and I will save him." Elizabeth sank down in her chair, a gleam of hope in her heart. "I salute you," he said, turning away. "Sergeant," cried the admiral, "attend the Vicomte de Chamillard and see him safely bestowed on his vessel." As the Frenchman turned toward the door, he came face to face with Major Coventry returning with the orders he had prepared. "Paul Jones, by Heaven!" shouted the latter. "At your service," said the supposed Frenchman, promptly tearing off his wig and laying his hand on his sword. "Ha!" cried the admiral. "Have you dared to come here! I have you now! Call the guard! Sergeant, arrest this rebel--this traitor--this pirate--disarm him! You shall never leave this castle but for the ship, sir. The yard-arm is there." "Stop, my Lord!" answered Jones, calmly, as the men crowded toward him; "stand back, sergeant, back, men! You cannot touch me; I have that which will protect me wherever flies the English flag." "And that is--" said the admiral, smiling contemptuously. "Your word, sir,--the word of an English officer." The old man bit his lip in chagrined silence. He struggled with himself, looking at the easy, _insouciant_ Scotsman before him. "In seventy years it has not been broken," he said at last. "Well for you that you secured it. Go! You are free! You are a bold man, sir, but, I warn you, do not cross my path again." "I am proud to have met so true a gentleman. Will you honor me?" said Paul Jones, presenting his snuffbox to the admiral. The old man hesitated, laughed in spite of himself, and finally helped himself to a pinch. "The d----d insolence of the man!" he exclaimed. "I'd like to have met you in my young days, yard-arm to yard-arm." "I would have endeavored to occupy you, sir," said Jones, coolly; "and now I bid you farewell." He shot one meaning glance at Elizabeth, and his lips seemed to form the words "six hours," as he departed from the room. "Here is the warrant, sir," said Coventry. "Again I ask, and this time I ask my father, can nothing be done?" "Nothing, sir, less as a father than in any other capacity. Sergeant, take your prisoner. Major Coventry, you will conduct him on the Serapis, and remain there as my representative until the execution is over. Sir, you have borne yourself well this day; I would shake you by the hand. Good-bye." O'Neill clasped the proffered hand warmly, and then looked from Coventry, standing erect, immovable, white-faced, to Elizabeth, who was still sitting with bowed head, a world of entreaty in his glance. Coventry nodded and turned away. O'Neill stepped quickly to the girl's side, took her hand in his, bowed low over it, pressed a long kiss upon it. "May you be happy!" he said. "Farewell!" She looked at him in dazed silence. "Sir," he continued, turning back to Coventry, and saluting him, "I am ready. Lead on." "Forward, march, sergeant!" commanded the officer, hoarsely, and with no backward look the little cortége moved from the room. The girl rose to her feet as if to start after them, but the old man restrained her. "O'Neill--O'Neill--" rang through the hall--a wild, despairing cry--and then Lady Elizabeth sank down white and still at the feet of the admiral. "And this is love!" he murmured, shaking his old head; "I had forgotten it." BOOK III ON THE VERGE OF ETERNITY CHAPTER XIII _A Desperate Move_ It was morning when Elizabeth came again to the terrace above the water battery overlooking the harbor. She had passed a night of sleepless agony, and her pallid face, with its haggard expression, the great black circles under the eyes,--for her grief had been too deep for tears,--gave outward evidence of her breaking heart. She had besought the admiral again and again to stay the execution of her lover, urging every plea that the most desperate mind could suggest; she had implored his mercy and pity upon every ground, and upon his inexorable refusal had begged that he might be reprieved for a few hours, and that she might at least be allowed to see him before he died. Touched by her sorrow, at first the old man had been inclined to grant this petition, and had scribbled a line on his official paper, giving the desired permission; but before he signed and sealed it, he changed his mind, and deemed it best to refuse,--more merciful to her, in fact. It really wrung his heart to be unable to extend clemency to this young man. He repented him of the temptation he had thrown in his way. The nobility with which O'Neill had refused and rejected the chance of life which had been offered him, the simplicity with which he had given up everything for honor, impressed him more than ever. He was sick at heart at the grief of his ward, whom he truly loved, and the broken, despairing face of his son, since he had learned that Elizabeth loved O'Neill, haunted him. He wished that the Irishman had never come across his path, though he could not but admire his honor, his grace, and his courage. He was bitterly sorry that he had ever attempted to influence the man; he had an uncomfortable and growing suspicion that his plans had brought nothing but trouble to every one. Breaking away from the presence of Elizabeth, whose anguished face was a living reproach to him, he finally secluded himself in his office and refused to see her again. So the day, like yesterday, wore away; but, oh, how differently! The girl never knew how she passed the hours. She wandered restlessly up and down the terrace, her eyes strained upon the sea. The garrison, who idolized her to a man, had been apprised by the sergeant of what had happened, and, to a man, they were upon her side. The men would never forget the picture she made, as they watched her pacing to and fro, ceaselessly gazing at the white ship in the harbor,--her lover's prison, his scaffold even. The sense of impotent helplessness with which she was compelled to face the situation, the knowledge that O'Neill was doomed absolutely, that there was nothing that she could do or say which would alter the decision, was terrible. She had been accustomed to have her will, and like most women loved it. Now she had to stand by in the bright sunlight with all the strength of life and youth and love in her veins and in his, and see her lover choked to death--hanged like a dog--at the black yard-arm of that great ship yonder. And for what? Womanlike, she put aside every thought of him but that he had dared death itself only to see her, to be in her presence again! Oh, how splendid, how handsome, how noble he had been in the great hall, when he had refused her rather than to take her as the reward of treachery! and now he was to become a lifeless lump of clay, alive to her only as a memory, a recollection--how cruel! She could not, she would not, stand it. She racked her brain over and over. Was there nothing? No-- It was late in the afternoon. Her maid had not been able to drag her from the terrace whence she had a view of the ship on which her lover was to be executed,--murdered, she said. As she gazed upon it, she noticed two men climbing nimbly up the black shrouds about the foremast. When they reached the foreyard, they ran out on the yard-arm. One of them carried something. A rope was dragging from it. In obedience to an imperious command, her maid ran and fetched her a glass. One look through it showed her--she was a sailor's ward--that they were rigging a whip on the yard-arm, they were securing there a girt-line block through which a rope was rove, leading to the top and thence to the deck. She divined at once its hideous purpose. The hour! The hour! Had it grown so late? Was it so near, so near? Was there a God in that blue heaven bending above her head? Could such things be? A sick feeling came over her heart, and she would have fainted but for a sudden inspiration. Again she seized the telescope,--an unusually strong one, by the way,--and raising it to her eyes with unsteady hand, eagerly swept the sea off in the direction of Flamborough Head, rising faintly down to the southward, a long distance away. For a long time her nervous, trembling hands could not get that part of the horizon in focus. She finally knelt down and rested the tube upon the parapet, breathing a prayer as she did so, and looked again. Ah! At last she had it, and there swept into the field of vision three gleams of white on the skyline, proclaiming, even to her unpractised eye, the sails of ships! What had that indomitable man said to her last night in the hall? "Delay the execution for at least six hours, and I will save him!" He was not one to promise lightly. She would try again. The telescope fell with a crash at her feet. She would make one more appeal to the admiral; it was late, but there might yet be time. On the instant she turned, leaving the startled maid, and ran like a fleet-footed fawn along the terrace, down the stone steps through the water battery, through the bailey, into the inner court, down the long passage, and into the great hall of the night before, where the admiral was usually to be found at this hour. She dashed impetuously into the room, crying,-- "The admiral, quick! where is he?" "Ships has been reported down at Bridlin'ton Bay,--furrin ships, yer Leddyship," replied the old sergeant, who happened to be there alone, "an' his Ludship took horse about half-past twelve o'clock to go down there." Failure! Her last hope gone! She sank down into the chair. Reaction had come; she was fainting, helpless, dying. It was over! The sergeant started toward her, his face full of pity. She was sitting in the admiral's chair, by the great table. Her glance fell listlessly upon it. At the moment another idea flashed into her mind. Desperate, foolish, nevertheless, she would try it--try anything; this, at least, was action. She started to her feet again on the instant, instinct with life. "Leave me at once, and see that no one interrupts me; I wish to be alone," she said imperiously to the astonished sergeant, who bowed respectfully and withdrew. A half an hour later she came hurriedly out of the room, white-faced, drawn, nerved up to desperate endeavor. How he got through the night, O'Neill never knew. The court-martial in the morning had taken little time; its sentence, a foregone conclusion, promptly approved by the admiral, had been death by hanging at half after six o'clock that night. He had refused to give any further parole, in the faint hope that something might enable him to escape, and consequently had been heavily ironed and placed in confinement in the space between two of the great guns on the lower gun-deck--the Serapis was a double-banked frigate--on the starboard side. The forethought of Coventry, who had attended him with the solicitude and kindness of a brother, and had pleaded for him unavailingly before the court, had caused a canvas screen to be provided, which enclosed two of the guns, and allowed him to pass his hours undisturbed by the curious gaze of the English seamen. An armed marine stood always as sentry before the screen. Captain Pearson, a gallant officer, had been kindness itself in all his arrangements, but his orders, which were peremptory, left him no discretion whatever. O'Neill passed his time sitting by the open port, leaning on a gun, gazing out over the water at the gray old castle where he had found his love and met his fate. Many tragedies had been enacted within its walls during long centuries of history--none sadder than his own. It would have been foolish to say that he had no regrets. No one could think of the possibilities of happiness presented by such a love as that which he was now assured Elizabeth felt for him, without a sense of despair coming over the mind in the knowledge they were not to be enjoyed; but he was a sailor, and generations of heroic ancestors had accustomed him to look death in the face, and smile undaunted at its harsh, forbidding appearance. "_Fortune_, _Infortune_, _Fortune_" had been the motto of his branch of the red-handed O'Neills; at least that was the punning Latin translation of a Celtic original which meant, "Fortune and misfortune are alike to the strong." When his friends and acquaintances at the French court, those knights and ladies with whom he had ruffled it so bravely, the young king, his master, his old comrades, the hard fighters on the Richard, her dauntless captain, that brave old man, his father, heard how he died, they would learn that he had met the last grim enemy with the wonted intrepidity of his race. _Noblesse oblige!_ and then having made his peace with God as best he could alone,--he was of a different faith from that of the chaplain of the ship,--he gave himself over to mournful dreams of Elizabeth Howard. Late in the afternoon his meditations were interrupted by the arrival of Coventry. The poignant unhappiness of the young Englishman was, if anything, greater than that of O'Neill. His engagement to Elizabeth Howard, with whom he had grown up, had been at first more or less a matter of convenience, and he had never entirely realized the hold she had taken upon his heart, until he heard her--in the arms of O'Neill--make that frantic avowal of her overwhelming passion. Men frequently do not know the value of what they have--until they lose it. Coventry's heart had been surcharged with love and devotion to this woman, and because his life had glided on evenly he had not known how full of love it was until he had been so shaken that it had overflowed. He would, he thought, cheerfully have taken the other's place, sentence of death and all, could he hear but once before he died the ringing accents of such a sublime confession--and for himself. His love for the woman of his choice was of the most exalted character, and might well, were merit or fitness alone to be considered in such a case, have claimed her own deepest feelings in return. When Elizabeth had appealed to him to intervene, with a magnanimity as rare as it was noble, he had subordinated his happiness to her own, and had endeavored to procure a mitigation of the punishment imposed upon his rival, though he knew his success would throw his promised wife into the arms of O'Neill. He had not done this without a terrible struggle,--it was a gray-faced, broken man who looked upon the world of to-day, in place of the smiling youth of the night before,--but he had done it. He felt that the sacrifice would cost him his life, and for that he was truly glad, yet he had offered it freely, generously, and nobly. He had not hesitated to do so, for with him the happiness of Elizabeth Howard was the paramount passion. If she did not love him, he could at least show her what love truly meant in its highest sense; give her a lesson in love like to the lesson in honor that other man had exhibited last night. For her he stood ready to give up everything; his own future he did not allow to weigh a moment in the balance beside hers. There was something grandly sublime in this utter abnegation of self, so simply done for another's happiness. Coventry had been a Christian after a rather better fashion, perhaps, than most young men of his time; his associations with the sweet, pure girl he loved had kept him so. All his people for generations had been Churchmen; this seemed to him to be the right thing to do, the thing demanded of a gentleman; the greatest Gentleman of them all, who had shown His breeding on a Cross, had set the example of self-sacrifice. A sentence quoted by the chaplain in the service a few days before, which had struck his fancy, ran in his head; he had a good memory. "_I will very gladly spend and be spent for you; though the more abundantly I love you, the less I be loved_." Yes, that was it. At the first moment, when he found last night that his pleadings were of no avail, and that O'Neill was doomed to die, his heart had leaped in his breast at the thought that his rival would be removed; but he had crushed the thought as unworthy a gentleman of his high ideals; and there had come to him, in addition, a consciousness that to a love like Elizabeth Howard's the death of a beloved would make no change. Such passions come but once in a lifetime, and when they arrive they are as eternal as the stars. He had given her up, and she belonged, in life or death, to another. A glance at his own anguished heart enabled him to feel for her. Time would not soften a blow to a nature like to hers. In the execution of O'Neill, Coventry saw the death-warrant of Elizabeth. He had passed the day racking his brain and thinking of some way to delay the execution, but without avail. He would have stopped at nothing to save them both. In despair he had come to consult with his rival. CHAPTER XIV _Almost the End_ "I am glad to see you, my friend," said O'Neill, smiling at him in a melancholy way. "Would God that I could see you in any place but this!" answered the young Englishman. "Ah, yes!" replied O'Neill, his eyes brightening; "then we might fight it out, man to man, sword to sword, and--" "Not so," mournfully replied Coventry. "The battle has been fought, and you have won again. Whether you live or die, Elizabeth Howard is not for me." "My poor friend, may the day upon which I crossed your paths be accursed! I have brought to each of you nothing but sorrow," replied the young sailor, sadly, touched at the other's surrender. "It was fate, O'Neill. Do not reproach yourself with that. All day long I have been striving to think of some means to delay this accursed execution, until I could communicate with the king. An appeal to his clemency might--but no--I see no way, nothing, unless--you know--" he hesitated and hung his head, blushing painfully. "No more of that, if you love me, Coventry," said O'Neill, gravely "Put yourself in my place! Could you do it? Ah, you shake your head, you see! Neither could I, not even to purchase heaven." There was a long pause between them. "O'Neill," said the Englishman at last, "would that I could take your place!" "But you cannot, Major Coventry," replied the other, gratefully. "You honor me in the thought; but if you could, I should refuse to allow it. You are the better man; all my life I have been a gay, reckless, pleasure-seeking soldier of fortune, with never a serious purpose until now, and now it is too late! You are the worthy one, and you must live to watch over, to care for her whom we both love. Perhaps--surely--in days to come she will forget; time, absence, you know--she will reward your devotion, she must--you will be happy--" His voice broke, and he turned away his face and looked out of the open port. Coventry shook his head. "You know her not, sir. She is not for me, nor would I take her loving you; my love is too deep for that--nor would she come. She will never forget you." O'Neill's heart leaped at this assurance. The ship's bell on the deck above them struck four times; it was six o'clock! There was a little silence within the screen. "The hour approaches," said O'Neill, softly, at last. "I would be alone for a few moments before--you understand?" "Yes," said the other, rising and pressing his hand. "Have you nothing to say, no message to send to--" he asked magnanimously. "Nothing--nothing--'tis best so. You will come for me at the time?" "Yes, and I will stand by you to the end, like a soldier." "You do me great honor," replied the other, thankfully. Coventry looked at him a moment, shook his head, and turned away. In the prayers of the young Irishman the face of the girl he loved would obtrude itself. It seemed but a moment before he heard the tramp of armed men coming along the deck. They stopped before the screen. It was opened, and Coventry, pale as death, presented himself at the opening; the screen was promptly folded back; there were marines fully armed before it, the chaplain, too, in the white robes of his office. "I am ready, gentlemen," said O'Neill, calmly. "May I not go to my death unbound?" he asked. At a nod from Coventry, the master-at-arms unlocked the fetters about his feet and hands. The prisoner took his place in the midst of the little squad of men, and ascended to the spar-deck. The ship's company of marines was drawn up aft on the quarter-deck. Most of the seamen of the crew were arranged in orderly ranks in the starboard gangway. Forward a grating had been rigged on the bulwarks under the port fore-yard-arm. A new rope led from the grating, up through the block in the yard-arm, came inboard to another block under the top, and thence through a block fixed to the deck. Some sixty or seventy men chosen by lot from the ship's company had hold of the rope which was led aft along the port gangway. In front of the marines stood Captain Pearson and his officers in full uniform. The prisoner was halted before him. "Are you aware, sir," said the captain, gravely, "that the hour for the carrying out of the sentence of the court approaches?" "Yes, sir," answered O'Neill, courteously. "Have you anything to say before that time?" "I have to thank you all for your kindness to me, nothing else, sir." "Allow me, sir," said the captain, "to assure you of the great personal distaste and regret I feel at being compelled to take this action." "Your feelings do you honor, sir," replied O'Neill, gravely; "but it is a matter of duty. Pray, proceed." "Captain Pearson," said Coventry, in great agitation, "can nothing be done to delay this execution a few hours? There are considerations, sir, in my possession, which I feel sure would incline his Majesty, could he be communicated with, to extend clemency to this gentleman,--circumstances which--" "Are these circumstances within the knowledge of Lord Westbrooke, Major Coventry?" answered the captain, surprised at the unusual nature of the interruption. "They are, sir." "Have you mentioned them to him? Have you called his attention specifically to them, I mean?" "Yes, sir, I have," answered the soldier, reluctantly. "And they have evidently not influenced him, you see. Therefore I fail to see how I can permit them to weigh with me." "But a delay, sir, of a day, of an hour even, until I can communicate with the admiral again! For God's sake, sir, do not hang this gentleman like--" "Major Coventry, you are a soldier, and should not make such an appeal. I have my orders. You have shown me no cause to disregard them; I cannot take it upon myself to do so. I dare not!" "But an hour, sir, until I--" "Not a moment! At five bells they must be carried out," said the captain, inflexibly. "No more, sir," he added, as Coventry made an impetuous step forward. "I have indulged you too long already. Mr. Pascoe, take the prisoner forward." "It is useless, Coventry. Why prolong this agony longer? You have done what you could. I thank you and bless you," said O'Neill, as they walked along the deck to the place of the grating. "Will you please to step up here, sir?" said Pascoe, the first lieutenant of the Serapis, who had the matter in charge, pointing to the grating on the rail as they came abreast of it. "It is a fair and easy place from which to step to heaven, sir, or to the other place as well," said the Irishman, smiling, as he stepped on the rail. "I pray you to tell your men to start me on my way with a quick pull and a swift run." Pascoe nodded in comprehension. This would be a case in which speed would be merciful. A boatswain's mate now stepped up beside the prisoner, and bound his feet and hands with a lashing. A hangman's knot had been made by expert fingers in the rope leading from the yard-arm, and the running noose was quickly cast about O'Neill's neck. "The collar of an ancient order, this," observed O'Neill, still smiling. "And now one last request, sir," he added, turning to the lieutenant. "And that is?" "Throw away that black cap, sir. Let me go with my eyes open." The lieutenant hesitated a moment. The whole ship's company was filled with admiration for the intrepid and gallant Irishman. "Do it, for God's sake, Pascoe!" whispered Coventry, springing up alongside O'Neill and the sailor, who, to avoid him, stepped back and stood on the rail by the fore shrouds. "What are you doing there, Major Coventry?" answered Pascoe. "Nothing. I promised to stand by him to the last," replied Coventry. The officer hesitated a moment, and then threw the cap into the water. "I thank you," said O'Neill, huskily. "How much time is there?" "About two minutes, I think," said the lieutenant, nervously. "You will run away with the fall at the first or last stroke of the bell?" "The last, sir." "No more," said O'Neill to Coventry, turning his face in the direction of the shore. The deep voice of the white-robed priest alone broke the silence,-- "'_Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts; shut not Thy merciful ears to our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, Thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from Thee_.'" Out on the water a white-sailed little boat was speeding swiftly toward them. There was a woman in it. The eyes of love, even in the presence of death, are keen, perhaps even keener then than ever. It was Elizabeth Howard. O'Neill recognized her at once. Good heavens! Why had she come here? She would arrive in time to see him swinging lifeless from the yard-arm,--a hideous sight for any woman. He could not take his eyes from her. "See!" he whispered to Coventry, "that boat yonder; she is there." "My God!" said the officer. "What shall we do?" "Nothing; 'tis too late." "She has something in her hand," cried Coventry. "What can it be?" "Forward, there!" cried the captain, watch in hand. "Strike the bell five!" The mellow tones of the first couplet of the ship's bell rang out in obedience to the command. The hour was come! It was his death signal, but O'Neill never turned his head from the approaching boat. The old quartermaster struck the bell deliberately, lingering over it reluctantly; a little shiver ran through the men. "Stand by!" shouted the lieutenant, in a voice he strove in vain to make firm. "Make a quick jerk and a lively run, lads, for God's sake!" The men grasped the rope more firmly, sprang into position for the jump. The next couplet was struck on the bell. The boat was nearer now. Coventry saw that the woman waved something that looked like a paper in her hand. The last stroke of the bell rang out on the breathless, silent ship. "Set taut!" cried the lieutenant, hoarsely. The men leaped forward instantly to the shrill piping of the boatswain and his mate. "Sway away!" he cried. The tightened rope caught the Irishman by the throat. A lightning flash seemed to cleave the skies: he saw, as in a vision, a great hall hung with arras, a picture frame, a woman radiant, beautiful, her eyes shining; an upraised hand; like silver bells a voice murmured, "I love him, I love him." She moved--ah, a gigantic hand caught him by the throat; he strove to cry out; it clutched him tighter and tighter; blackness like a pall fell before him, shutting out the smiling face--death--agony--he saw no more--he swung into the air and was nothing. The quick eye of Major Coventry had detected, at last, what the girl was waving. "That paper," he cried frantically, as the last bell struck. "It must be a reprieve; the admiral has relented." Was it too late? Quick as thought he snatched the sheath knife from the belt of the sailor near him. It was too late to stop the men on the rope, even had he possessed the power; but as O'Neill rose in the air, he caught him around the waist, and with one rapid blow severed the straining rope above his head. Assisted at once by the sailor alongside of him, they lowered the bound, unconscious man upon the deck beneath them. It was all done in the twinkling of an eye. The men on the ship broke out in ringing cheers. The rope, being relieved of the weight of the body, of course ran rapidly through the block, and the men hauling it pitched pell-mell over themselves upon the deck. There was a moment of intense excitement. The seamen on the other side of the deck, cheering wildly, started eagerly forward; the officers, sword in hand, sprang in front of them, driving them back. The marine officer aft brought his men at once to attention with a sharp word or two, and every piece was made ready in case of disturbance. Pearson, white with rage at the interruption, leaped forward. "What is the meaning of this?" he shouted. "Who has dared to interfere in this manner?" "I, sir," replied Coventry, fearlessly, looking up from his place by the unconscious man. "And by what right, sir?" cried the enraged captain. "Though you be the son of the admiral, you shall dearly rue this unwarranted assumption of authority. What excuse have you to offer for interrupting the sentence of a court-martial? What reason can you urge for your presumption?" "Boat ahoy!" cried a seaman stationed at the port gangway. "Sir," said Coventry, quietly meeting the eye of the thoroughly infuriated captain, "if I mistake not, you will find my excuse in that boat." "Well for you, sir, if it be there! Never, in my twenty years of service, have I been so braved, and on my own ship, too. See what boat it is," said the captain, turning to one of his midshipmen, "and find out what is wanted." The lad came running back presently, and saluted. "'Tis a lady, sir,--the governor's ward,--Lady Elizabeth Howard; she wishes to come on board," he said. "Lady Elizabeth Howard! This is no place for women; this man is still to be hanged. What can she wish?" exclaimed the captain, frowning. "Receive her at once, sir, I beg," said Coventry. "She has a paper,--my excuse, sir," he added, smiling. "Show her on board," said the captain, shortly, to the midshipman. Then he looked down on the still, unconscious form of O'Neill. "Send a surgeon here at once, sir," he continued; and as the latter presented himself, "Is the man dead?" he asked. "No, sir," said the surgeon, examining him hastily, and making ready to apply some necessary restoratives, for which he despatched an assistant to the sick-bay. "Get him in shape, then, and quickly, for another attempt; for hang he shall, if he has to be held up for it," ordered the captain, sternly. At this moment the midshipman, followed by Lady Elizabeth, pale as death, a blue boat cloak, which belonged to her guardian, which she had caught up in the castle, fluttering in the breeze, her hat gone, her hair dishevelled, her hand clutching a paper, broke through the little group. "Captain Pearson, where is he?" she cried nervously; then, as her eyes fell on the prostrate form of O'Neill, she dropped the paper to the deck, covered her face with her hands, and rocked to and fro in agony. "Oh, my love, my love! Too late! too late!" she wailed, faltering. "Not so, madam," said the captain, turning toward her. "The man still lives, the surgeon assures me. He has but fainted. Have you a warrant to stop the execution? If not, it must go on, and it shall go hard with Major Coventry as well." "The prisoner is reprieved, sir; here is the paper," said Elizabeth, life coming back to her, "sealed and signed by the admiral himself. Oh, I had it a moment since--where has it gone?" "Here it is, your Ladyship," said one of the officers, lifting it from the deck and handing it to her. "There!" she said, presenting it to the captain. He opened it deliberately and glanced over the brief contents. She watched him with a nervousness she vainly attempted to conceal. Meanwhile the doctor had succeeded in rousing O'Neill. The first glance of his eye fell on Elizabeth, and nothing else he saw. "Heaven and the angels!" he murmured faintly, not yet comprehending the position. "It seems to be made out properly and duly signed and sealed," said the captain, slowly,--"a reprieve for the prisoner until further notice, and permission for the bearer to see him alone," he added suspiciously. There was a little pause. He turned the paper over in his hand, and looked sharply at the girl. "The admiral chooses a strange messenger," he added. "I cannot say if this be regular or no. His handwriting is unfamiliar to me. I do not recognize this; you say you had it from him, madam?" Elizabeth could not trust herself to speak; she only bowed. There was evidently something very suspicious to the captain in the whole proceeding. The signature did not seem just right. "Ah! I have it--Major Coventry!" he cried suddenly. That miserable young man, sick at heart, had shrunk into the background since Elizabeth had come aboard, and the girl had not seen him before. He had felt that his work was done when she appeared; but, no, he was to find out that his troubles had but just begun. "Oh!" she cried, as he stepped forward, clutching him wildly by the arm, a look of terror in her eyes, as she added, in a whisper, "not you--I had forgotten you--we are lost!" In the bitter knowledge that she had forgotten him, he overlooked the clue to her action furnished by her last words. "Here is a reprieve from the admiral," said the captain. "It seems to be correct, and yet--will you look over it and give me your opinion? you are familiar with his writing, at any rate. My Lady, forgive the questioning, but the matter is most serious, and I must be absolutely assured." "Here is the paper, Edward," said Elizabeth, desperately, taking it from the captain's outstretched hand. "Is not that the writing of the admiral?" she added entreatingly, and then clasping her hands, she looked at him with all her soul in her eyes and waited, full of apprehension. A word, and he hanged her lover, and incidentally, but surely, killed her; a word, and he set them free! What the consequences to himself of his decision might be, with the sublime egotism of love for another, she neither knew nor questioned. Coventry gave a brief glance at the document; he saw what was expected of him; his life or her happiness trembled in the balance; true to his determination, he did not hesitate a moment. In that glance of a single second he realized the truth, which he had more than suspected before. "It is," he replied briefly and indifferently aloud. A little prayer to God for forgiveness leaped within his heart at the falsehood. He had connived at her deceit, failed in his soldierly duty, broken his honor--for this woman. The reputation of a lifetime of loyal service to his king, the honorable record of years of devotion to duty had been thrown away in a moment for her. He had sacrificed more than life itself for his love--and she loved another! He turned the paper over in his hand and then quietly returned it to the captain. He said no other word, he scarcely even looked at Elizabeth. He could not trust his own gaze. There might be reproach in it. And he would fain make the sacrifice like a gentleman at least. "Thank God--thank God--" whispered Elizabeth, under her breath; and the look of gratitude she flashed at him would have gone far to repay even a greater sacrifice--perhaps. The keen captain was not yet satisfied, however. "You wished to release him yourself, I remember," he said uncertainly. "I am by no means persuaded that--but it is impossible for me to proceed now until I have seen the admiral. Take the prisoner below," he said to the guard, "and allow Lady Elizabeth to see him alone. Mr. Pascoe, tell the boatswain to pipe down, and call the watch." CHAPTER XV _A Soldier and a Gentleman_ Accompanied by the marine guard, and leaning upon the arms of the surgeon and Coventry, who tenderly assisted his faltering steps, O'Neill was taken below, followed by Elizabeth, scarcely yet comprehending what had happened. The girl's heart was exulting madly. So far she had triumphed. What next? When they reached the little screened enclosure between the guns, in which O'Neill had been confined, the guard saluted and released the prisoner. He had not been ironed again, and by some oversight no one, in the confusion following the reprieve, called attention to it. As he stepped within the screen, and Elizabeth prepared to follow him, Coventry interrupted her by holding out his hand with a mute glance. Was she going to pass him by without a single word of gratitude, of farewell even? "Oh!" she said, with unconscious cruelty which pierced his heart, for this was the second time, "I forgot you." And then, as if repenting for the situation, and to make amends for that forgetfulness, which was, to say the least, most ungrateful, in spite of the presence of the seamen and marines, she seized his hand, drew him toward her, and pressed a long, sweet kiss upon his forehead. "God bless you for what you did," she whispered. "What you do, do quickly," he replied. "I will replace the sentry; you will be safe. God grant you may succeed. 'Twas bravely done; good-bye." "Good-bye; we shall not forget you," she said hurriedly, withdrawing within the screen. And this was the only reward he received for his sacrifice. By his direction the sentry on guard withdrew to the opposite side of the deck, and he himself mounted guard in front of the canvas. With what feelings he paced to and fro in front of that little strip of cloth which alone separated him from the woman he loved, in the arms of the man who loved her--and he had put her there! As soon as she entered the enclosure, Elizabeth threw herself in the arms of the bewildered O'Neill. "Oh!" she whispered, "you are saved--saved--and through me!" "No, dearest, not yet," replied he, straining her to his heart and kissing her fondly. "I scarcely yet understand it all; but if I heard aright, 'tis but a reprieve until to-morrow; build no hope upon it." "We will not wait for the morrow, my dearest," she answered softly, "for the boat swings under the counter yonder. When night falls and it is quite dark, we will slip out of the port and go away together; in a few moments it will be time." The Irishman caught eagerly at the suggested idea. It was full of improbability, but it did present a bare possibility of escape if they were fortunate. "Very good," he whispered, "excellent; but the sentry there?" "We will wait until there is some bustle on the deck," she answered, "and in the confusion and noise they will not hear; at any rate, we must risk it." Something told her she would better not inform him that Coventry was keeping watch. "How did you prevail upon the admiral to grant the reprieve?" he asked, after another pause, not unemployed, however. "I--well, you see--oh, I scarcely know how; the admiral loves me, you know--I cannot explain it. It seems like a bewildering, frightful dream to me," said the girl, passing her hand over her hair and turning a shade paler as she spoke, and studiously avoiding his eye. "Do not speak of it now. You are safe for the moment--you saw the paper--Edward also--it was all right. Let that suffice." He soothed her with tender words and loving caresses; the sound of them was death to the pale-faced young man, alone with his own broken thoughts on the other side of the screen. Unheeded the night came stealing over the harbor, lights in the town twinkled here and there, the boatswain's whistle rang out between decks on the frigate. There was a call, a hoarse cry or two, a hurrying of feet, a little confusion. "Now is the time," said Elizabeth, releasing herself from his unwilling arms, and looking out through the port. "The man is watching; I met him on the strand as I was seeking for a boat to bring me out to you. He is faithful; he says he knows you--has served under you." "Knows me!" said O'Neill, surprised, thrusting his head through the open port. There, right beneath him, a little skiff was being brought up deftly and without noise, from where it had lain unnoticed under the counter, in the confusion since the girl's arrival. The side of the ship was in deep shadow, and the broad main chains extending over their heads, above the ports, further concealed them from notice. Gathering her skirts about her, Elizabeth slipped first through the port. O'Neill held her firmly until the man below lifted her gently into the stern of the boat. Noiselessly, and as quickly as possible, O'Neill followed her. By Elizabeth's direction, he lay down in the bottom of the boat, and she covered him entirely with her boat cloak. The man in the bows, whom O'Neill had not recognized in the shadow, and who had said nothing, slowly worked the boat back under the counter again; then, with a strong thrust, shoved her clear of the ship. The flooding tide carried them slowly away. In a few moments he cautiously got out his oars, and by a very gentle pulling added a little to the way of the boat. The ear of the watchful Coventry had at once apprised him of their departure. He could scarcely resist the temptation to enter the screen,--to call them back that he might see her once again. But he had duty to do. So soon as he was persuaded that they had left the ship, he called the sentry from the opposite side of the deck, and told him to mount guard again, and on no account to disturb the prisoners. Then he ran rapidly up to the quarter-deck, and made his way aft to the marine on guard there. The man was looking out into the darkness at a dark blur on the water,--a boat; two figures could be distinguished in it, one of them a woman; Coventry saw them at once, and as he looked they disappeared,--the last sight of her, he thought bitterly. The marine had just opened his mouth to give the alarm, when the clear voice of the officer rang in his ear. "Sentry!" said Coventry. The man instinctively sprang to attention at once, and for the moment forgot the boat. "Have you seen any signals from the castle?" "No, sir; but I seen a little boat off there that looked suspicious like." "Whereabouts did you see it?" "There, sir, right off there." "No," said Coventry, straining his eyes through the darkness. "There is no boat there. You have been mistaken, I think," he added indifferently, his gaze still fixed on the place where they had drifted away and disappeared. He knew what was coming, since they had gone. He must pay for it, so he leaned on the rail and waited. A few moments later, a large barge, full manned, darted out of the darkness, coming toward the ship. Coventry knew what it was, of course. "Boat ahoy!" shouted the watchful sentry at the gangway. "Flag," was the answer, as the admiral dashed alongside. Almost before the officer of the watch could reach the gangway the old man clambered to the deck. "Good-evening, sir," he said, in response to the former's salutation. "Captain Pearson?" "I have sent for him, my Lord," replied the officer, and the next moment the captain himself came bustling out of the darkness to do honor to the old admiral. "Ah, Captain Pearson, good-evening." "Good-evening to your Lordship." "The prisoner I sent off--he has been duly executed, I presume?" "Why, no, sir!" said the captain, alarmed at this confirmation of his suspicions. "We were about ready to carry out the sentence; the command to sway aloft had been given, in fact, when we received your reprieve." "My reprieve!" said the admiral, in great surprise. "What mean you? I sent no reprieve." "Sir, sir!" cried the astonished captain. "It was brought here by your ward, Lady Elizabeth Howard." "Elizabeth! Good God!" cried the old man, starting violently. "Her maid said she was ill--she must have--did you inspect it carefully, sir?" he asked, checking himself. "Yes, my Lord. It seemed to be all right; but the whole proceeding was so irregular and unlike you that I called upon--" "Where is the paper?" cried the admiral, interrupting impatiently. "I have just sent to fetch it, sir." They waited in silence, until a midshipman placed it in the hand of the admiral. Pascoe held a light while the old man seized it, scrutinized it eagerly, and handed it back to the captain. "This," he said slowly, "is a forgery. You should have disregarded it, sir." "'Twas passed upon by your son and aide, Major Coventry, my Lord," replied the captain, shortly. "How! Edward! Where is he?" "Here, my Lord," said the young man, stepping forward, pale as death, and saluting. "Did you examine this paper, sir?" "I did, sir." "You knew it was a forgery?" "Yes, sir." "And yet you declared it to be correct?" "I did, sir." "For what purpose?" "Will you direct these others to retire out of hearing, Captain Pearson?" said Coventry, indicating the officer of the watch, the midshipman, and all of the others; and when his request had been complied with, he added: "'Twas to save the honor of your ward, my Lord, to insure happiness to the woman I love more than life, to effect the escape of the man upon whom that happiness depended." "Have you dared, sir," said the admiral, furious with rage, "to thus derange my plans and disregard my orders, to thwart me, to interfere between a duly constituted court and its prisoner?" He stamped his foot and looked fiercely at his son. "Me as well," said the captain; "upon the deck of my own ship--to put this dishonor upon me." "The prisoner!" cried the admiral, impetuously. "Have him brought on deck at once, Captain Pearson." "But your ward, my Lord; she is with him," said the captain. "Bring her too, then," the old man answered passionately. "But the crew--the men--not before them all!" said Coventry, striving to gain time. "Before Heaven itself the offence was given," said the admiral, losing all control over himself in his fury, "and the punishment shall have equal publicity." The midshipman who had hastened below now came running on deck in terror. "There's no one there, my Lord; they've gone, escaped, sir!" he cried. "Impossible!" exclaimed Pearson. "Escaped!" said the admiral, turning to the captain. "Had you no sentry to watch them, sir?" "Yes, my Lord, certainly," said Pearson. "Let him be tried and shot forthwith, then, for gross neglect of duty in permitting--" "My Lord, the sentry is innocent," interrupted Coventry; "I replaced him; I alone am guilty." "Worse and worse! You knew they escaped, sir?" said the admiral. "I did; 'twas to prevent discovery I took his place," replied his son, bowing. Captain Pearson opened his mouth to speak, but his superior silenced him with a wave of his hand. A bitter fight raged in the old man's bosom, but he saw his duty, and knew it must be done. There was a long and awful pause. When the admiral spoke again it was in an altered tone; he had regained his self-control. "Captain Pearson," he said slowly and deliberately, in a strained and unnatural voice, "let the court-martial which passed judgment upon the prisoner be re-convened at once to try Major Edward Coventry for disobedience of orders in time of war, and for aiding and abetting the escape of an enemy, and for knowingly declaring a forged order, purporting to bear my signature, to be correct,--in short, for conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman." "Surely not that last, my Lord," said Coventry, impulsively raising his hand in deprecation. The admiral hesitated, looked long and earnestly at his handsome son. "You may leave off the part about conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman, Pearson," he answered. "Thank you, sir," said Coventry, gratefully. "Good heavens, my Lord!" cried Pearson; "the punishment is death--I pray you--" "Silence, sir!" he cried sternly; "you have your order. Shall I be more merciful to this gentleman than to the poor marine I would have had shot a moment since for less than he has done?" "But he is your son. Have mercy on him, my Lord!" "So much the more imperative that he should receive justice--not mercy from me. Besides, from this hour he is no longer son of mine," said the old man, inflexibly. "Let the prisoner be confined under double guard; you will see that he at least does not escape you." "It is just," said Coventry, no less resolutely than his father; "I expected it. It was for her I did it." There was a sudden bustle upon the deck forward. "Sail ho! Light ho! Light ho!" rang out from a dozen rough throats. "Where away?" said the officer of the watch. "Off the starboard quarter," was the reply,--"there, coming up from Flamborough Head." "They will be the Bon Homme Richard and the rest of that scoundrelly pirate squadron, Captain Pearson. I saw them off Bridlington Bay this afternoon," said the admiral. "We will go out and meet them at once, with your permission, my Lord," cried the captain, enthusiastically. "All hands up anchor! Mr. Pascoe, show the signal for the Scarborough to get under way. Lively! we have him now, men! This is our chance at last! There's prize money and honor for you by yonder lights!" With wild cheers the eager crew broke for their stations. The capstan bars were shipped and manned, and the clanking pawls clicked merrily as the men heaved away as lustily as a crew homeward bound from a foreign station. "Good luck to you, Captain Pearson," said the admiral, turning away. "Bring him back a prisoner or sink him, and I will pledge you my word your king's sword shall be laid upon your shoulders. Would that I were younger and might go with you! but my duties, as well, prevent me. Good-bye." "Sir--my Lord--my father!" said Coventry, who had stood unnoticed in the excitement of the moment. "Do I see you still here, sir?" answered the admiral, coldly. "I would ask a favor of you, sir--as--as--as my father." "Ask no favors of a father, sir; you have none!" "Let me beg of the man, then," said Coventry, resolutely. "We are about to engage the enemy. For God's sake, sir, for the love of my mother, do not condemn me to inaction now! Let me serve as the humblest volunteer! You shall not regret it." The old man hesitated. He was a father in spite of what he had said, and he could not forget it. His heart was throbbing beneath his iron exterior and appearance of outward composure. "Go!" he replied at last. "You are free of any charges until to-morrow. When next I see you I shall have to prefer them, therefore let me not look upon your face again, sir. Do you understand?" "Yes, yes; good-bye, sir!" said the young man, brokenly. "I thank you and bless you for this. To-morrow I shall plead my cause in a higher court. Think of me kindly, sir." "And you have done this work and wrecked yourself for a woman! You have been a fool, sir; what woman that ever lived was worth it?" said the admiral, shortly. "This one," replied his son. "I loved her; I love her still." The two men looked at each other in silence. The admiral relented a little,--it was for the last time,--and drew the boy to him. He lifted his head to the sky in silent prayer. "All hands make sail!" hoarsely cried the boatswain at the instance of the executive officer. "Lay aloft, topman!" The admiral turned away, and Coventry was alone. He walked over to Captain Pearson. "Father gives me a chance to die," he said. "Please assign me to some duty." "I am glad to hear it," said the captain, his face lighting up. "We are short a lieutenant; I confide to you the forward division of the main-deck battery. Do your best with it." "I hope to serve it well," said the young officer, saluting proudly, and springing toward his station. "Anchor's away, sir!" cried the officer forward on the forecastle. "Man the topsail sheets and halliards, let fall, sheet home, hoist away!" roared the captain, himself seizing the trumpet. As the broad folds of canvas dropped from the wide-reaching yard-arms, the noble ship gathered way and sailed out to try her fortune. BOOK IV THE SELFISHNESS OF LOVE CHAPTER XVI _In the Line of his Duty_ AS soon as they had drifted some little distance from the Serapis, O'Neill rose, threw off the boat cloak, and stepped aft around the oarsman to the stern-sheets of the boat, where Elizabeth sat motionless, holding the tiller. He knelt down before her. "Elizabeth, dearest, we have actually escaped!" he said softly, stooping toward her. "I did not think it possible." She released the tiller, took his head in her hands, and kissed him in wild exultation. "Free! Free!" she murmured, "and together--my own, my own!" Her words, her look, her caress, set his blood bounding again. "Yes, yes; is it not heavenly, and with you. Oh, my soul, how can I repay you?" he whispered, giving back kiss for kiss, and stretching out his hands toward her. There was a little pause, broken by a rough voice, which its owner evidently tried to render more gentle; in a hoarse whisper the man at the oars asked,-- "Where are ye a-headin' of the boat, yer Leddyship?" "I know not!" she answered wildly, seizing the tiller again; "only away from that awful ship!" "Who is this man at the oars?" asked her lover, rising and sitting down by her when he took the tiller from her nervous hands. "Well, yer Honor," said a low, deep voice, with a smothered laugh in it, "my name ashore, w'ere I was left by Cap'n Jones t'other night to look arter you, mought be Smith, or Brown, or any old name; but yere in this boat it's Price--William P. Price--w'ich is wot my mother told me, at any rate, though I ain't got no evidence but her word fur it, an' she's dead, an' God be thanked I see yer Honor alive." "Price! You!" exclaimed O'Neill, in great surprise. "How did you find him, dearest?" "I found her, please yer Honor," replied the man. "I seed her Leddyship a-comin' down to the beach, an' I ups and captures a small boat from the English, w'ich the man'll be awful disappinted like, w'en he don't find her to-morrow, an' then I ups and offers to take her off, an' I tells her I knows you, an' we fixed it up, and here y'are!" They were not yet so far from the Serapis, even by this time, but that the quick ear of the girl detected the confusion on her decks: the shrill piping of the boatswain and his mates, the sharp commands of the officers, the trampling of many feet, were easily heard; she clutched her lover nervously, all alert at the thought of a possible further danger to him. "Oh!" she whispered, "they are doing something on the ship. Our escape is discovered. They will come after us!" "Not with the whole ship," he answered, smiling, though listening with straining apprehension as well. "I think they're a-gittin' under way, sir," said the old seaman. "Listen to the clankin' o' the pawls, yer Honor." "You are right; it cannot be after us, though; a cutter or two would suffice for that." "It'll be fur the Richard an' the rest of 'em. Cap'n Jones, he said he'd capture them ships afore the mornin' watch, an' if you wasn't hung afore that time, he'd trice up the whole d--n--w'ich I beg pardon, yer Leddyship, but he said it--crowd to the yard-arms, unless they'd let you go free! Our wessels ought to be a-comin' up from Flamburry putty soon, now. But if I mought make so bold, w'ere are ye headin' fur now, sir?" "We head for the Richard, of course," said the young man, promptly. "That's w'ere we b'long," said the sailor, joyfully; "I don't want no fightin' goin' on, an' I ain't there!" "Nor I," replied O'Neill. "I would put you ashore, Elizabeth, before we go; but--" "'Whither thou goest, I will go; thy people shall be my people,'" she quoted softly. "Whom have I now but you? To whom can I go but to you?" she murmured, laying her hand upon his own. It was dark on the boat, but if it had been broad daylight he could not have helped it,--he kissed her. "Oh, to be worthy of it all, to be worthy!" he answered. William grinned sympathetically, wiped his mouth wistfully with the back of his hand, and tried to look away. Presently, unshipping the oars, the two men stepped the mast and hoisted the small sail. The little boat, under the freshening breeze, began to draw through the water rapidly. In order to win out of the mouth of the harbor, they would have to pass in a direction which would bring them once more near the moving Serapis. They could hardly hope to escape discovery. They had, of course, gained a good start on the frigate; but as she was soon covered with sails, and her great height enabled her to catch the freshening breeze blowing over the hills, which was lost to the smaller craft, she literally rushed down upon them. A noble picture she made to those on the boat. Ghostlike and eerie in the pale moonlight, shining fitfully through the overcast heavens, the great white ship towered above them, her soaring masts covered with clouds of snowy canvas stretching far out on either side on the spreading yard-arms. Her sails swept the skies; her keel ploughed the deeps; the wind sang in the top-hamper; the white water, shot with sparks, piled up in front of her, bubbled and played around her forefoot, and rolled away on either side in broad sheets of foamy phosphorescence. The yellow lights of the battle lanterns streamed through her open ports; a drum was grimly rolling the call to battle on her decks. Dark forms passed to and fro; men leaped hither and thither in casting loose the double row of great black guns; sometimes a vivid flash in the moonlight proclaimed a drawn sword. Presently the cries and orders died away; the men settled down at their stations; silently the huge fabric, a splendid example of that power which for twice two hundred years had ruled the seas, swept toward them. O'Neill watched her in generous admiration. "A fit antagonist even for our great captain," he cried, all his enthusiasm aroused by the ship, "and nobly handled," he added. "Mark the discipline; see the order!" "Ay, sir, that'll be a hard one to take; but we'll take her, never fear!" said the old seaman, sharing his officer's ungrudging approbation of their gallant foe. "How can you speak so?" said the girl. "To me she is nothing but a prison--a menace--a horror!" "You are a woman, dearest; I hope to be on the old Richard before long, and I feel from such a ship as that there is much honor to be gained." "And death, too," she answered, shuddering. "It may be; death and honor often go hand in hand," he replied gravely; "but she nears us; you must lie down until she passes." It was a new thing for her to be commanded; she found it altogether a sweet experience--then. Later it might be another matter. So, though protesting because she was a woman and had prescient eye to the future, Elizabeth dutifully obeyed her lord and lay down in the boat, resting her head against his foot. As they drew toward the mouth of the harbor the wind came stronger. The little boat fairly roared through the white-capped waves. She heeled over until the water trickled in on the lee side; but O'Neill resolutely and skilfully held her up to it. He could not afford to lose an inch of distance to leeward, for the water shallowed rapidly in that direction, and abounded in rocks as well. The Serapis was alongside now; they had not yet been observed. The attention of the men on the frigate was fixed upon the approaching ships to the southeast, now plainly visible. O'Neill fairly held his breath as he congratulated himself that they were to be passed by unnoticed. Suddenly a sharp cry rang out just as the Serapis drew ahead. "Sail ho! Boat ahoy, there!" For a moment the small boat lay right in the path of light cast by the brilliantly illuminated stern-ports of the frigate. "'Tis the prisoner, he that escaped!" shouted a powerful voice. "Sentry, give him a shot from your piece," cried Captain Pearson himself, springing on the rail and leaning over toward them. Old Price shook his fist at the frigate in stout defiance. The sharp crack of a musket rang out in the air. The bullet seemed to have struck something forward in the boat; a shudder swept through the little craft, a hoarse, frightful cry quivered through the night, there was splash, the boat struck something, and that something, whatever it was, rasped along her keel as she drove ahead. "Clear away the second cutter," cried another voice on the frigate. "Keep all fast!" shouted Pearson. "We have bigger game to-night," and then he hollowed his hand and cried out as the Serapis drew rapidly away,-- "We'll take care of you, sir, in the morning, when we return." A few more musket-shots were fired at them from different parts of the ship; one bullet tore through the sail and whistled by the ear of the young lieutenant, but did no harm. "We are saved again!" cried Elizabeth, sitting up and looking gratefully at her lover. "But not without a cost," said the young man, solemnly. "What mean you? Are you hurt; are you wounded?" she cried. "Price!" called O'Neill, softly, though he knew it was useless. There was no answer. "Oh, that awful cry!" said Elizabeth, shuddering. "It was he," added O'Neill, gravely. "He was hit by the first shot, and went overboard. Did you not feel him strike the keel?" "Is there no hope for him?" she queried anxiously. "Could we not put back and seek him?" "None," replied the young lieutenant, shortly. "There was death in his voice; it's all over with him. Well, he died in the line of his duty; 'tis a sailor's cherished hope." "He helped me--both of us--in time of need; our way to liberty and happiness," she cried piteously, "seems to be over the bodies of those who love us." "So it has ever been in the world,--a thousand deaths to make one life, a thousand griefs to make one joy," he answered, laying his hand tenderly upon her head, which she had buried in her hands. "But what come what may," she added, looking up resolutely, with all the selfishness of love, "I have you, at least, and we are together again." "Ay, let us pray it may be forever, sweetheart." They were out of the harbor now; and while the Serapis was stretching along to the northeast to gain an offing, with the Scarborough some distance ahead of her, and to leeward, the lighter draft of the small boat permitted O'Neill to head her directly for the oncoming American ships, whose lights, and the ships themselves, were now plainly visible in the moonlight. CHAPTER XVII _Differing Standards_ "The battle which will take place to-night yonder between those ships decides my fate. I hope to God I may arrive in time to take my part in it! The Richard is fearfully short of officers at best; Landais, who has the Alliance, is crazy and a coward; Cottineau in the Pallas is an unknown quantity, and the rest have fled. Jones has only Richard Dale and a lot of midshipmen with him upon whom he can absolutely depend, and there are over two hundred prisoners in the hold. He needs me. If this breeze hold on, I think we may intercept the Richard before the battle is joined. Pray, dearest, as never before, for the success of our arms! It means life, and you, for me." "It means life for me as well," she answered, nestling against him and nerving herself up to the inevitable confession. How he would take it she did not know, or rather she would not permit herself to say. She was conscious only of an impelling necessity to tell him the whole story, though she had deliberately waited until she believed he could do nothing. "Ah, yes, 'tis sweet of you to say so, but not the same. Me they will hang, but not you," he answered fondly. "Yes, they will," she replied. "I--I--I must confess it to you before we go further; it weighs upon me. I also am guilty." "Guilty! You! Of what, pray? Of loving me too much?" he queried, laughing in pure lightness of heart. "No, not that," she answered, "but that--that order--your reprieve. It was--the admiral did not sign it," she added desperately. The secret was out. "And who did it, then?" he asked, still unsuspicious of her meaning. "I did it myself," she answered, with averted head. "It is not possible!" he exclaimed, withdrawing from her a little in his astonishment. "'Twas for you--for you I did it--reproach me not; nay, you shall not!" she cried, on fire to defend herself and her love, now the truth was told. "Captain Jones said six hours' delay and you were saved. There was no other way. I begged, implored, entreated the admiral--he left me; went away--I saw the man fixing that block--the rope--I ran to him to make one more appeal--he was not there. On his desk was an order giving me permission to see you, which he had intended to give me and had refused at the last moment and left unsigned. His watch was there and his seal. I added the rest and signed and sealed it myself; do not shrink from me!" she pleaded with changed mood again. "Your anger--your disapproval--kills me. Is there no excuse that you can find for me?" Her appeal was so tender, her affection so apparent, she was her own justification. "No man would have done it," he said irresolutely, wavering. "But every woman would," she replied promptly, pressing her advantage. "Why are you so silent; Your precious honor is safe, and as for mine--" "'Twas nobly done," he answered at last, in complete surrender. "There is not a woman in the world but would honor you for it; not a man who would not love you. You have done that which I could not, and for me. My heart before, and now my life is yours, my heart's dearest." "I knew you would not like it," she answered simply, "but there was no other way. I confess I was terrified when Edward--" "Good heavens!" cried O'Neill. "He saw the order?" "Yes," said the girl, cowering before him again. In truth, this phase of the transaction had actually escaped her memory. "Captain Pearson accepted it without questioning him?" he queried. She would have given all the world to lie to him, but even in the darkness she could not be further untrue, in his very presence, though now like a flash she saw it all. "He--he doubted it," she whispered hesitatingly. "He handed the paper to Edward, and asked him if it--if it was all right." "And Coventry?" "He took it and looked at it, looked at me--I had forgotten him, I must confess,--" she went on brokenly,--"and then he handed it back to Captain Pearson and--and said it was correct--the signature, I mean." "He knew, think you?" asked her lover, with deadly calmness. "Yes, he knew," she faltered. "And the sentry--our unheeded escape?" "Edward took his place--I might as well tell you all now," continued the girl, desperately. "Ah!" he said, coldly and sternly; "and do you know, Lady Elizabeth, what the penalty is for such actions as his?" "No," she replied, in alarm; "I never thought. They will not harm him. He is the son of the admiral--what is it?" "They will shoot him, or hang him like a dog to the very yard-arm prepared for me!" he answered with stern emphasis. "No, no! It is not possible!" she cried, appalled at the naked fact. "Ay, but it is," he replied; "and it is through your actions, and my blind acquiescence therein, that this honorable gentleman is done to death. This puts another face on the whole thing. You have made me a craven; I am dishonored, his life is sacrificed for me!" "I did not mean to do it; I did not know," she wailed, stricken to the heart by his bitter reproach. "Ay, but you should have known; but when women meddle in affairs of state the consequences oft exceed their narrow views. Pray God, there may yet be time to rectify the frightful happening," said O'Neill, bitterly, putting the helm hard over as he spoke. The boat swept around, the sail gybed, and they headed for the northeast. "What is it that you would do?" cried Elizabeth, in alarm, laying her hand on the tiller. "Follow the Serapis," he answered shortly. "For what?" "To give myself up if possible, and thus insure his freedom." "I knew--I knew it would be so," she whispered. "I loved him," she murmured, turning away, "I have sacrificed everything for him, and he repudiates, reproaches me. O my God, why hast thou forsaken me!" she wailed in unconscious imitation of a greater Sufferer. She drew away from him and knelt down in the boat, and buried her face in her hands, leaning upon the weather gunwale. He looked at her a moment, and before the pathetic abandonment of her grief his anger melted. She was a woman; with her, love was all. "Elizabeth," he said tenderly, "the bitterness of having caused that good man's death, his apparent dishonor, overwhelmed me. I love you, as you know, more than life itself. You are a woman; you see things differently. There is nothing above love in a woman's heart. Come back to me; your place is here, whatever happens. I love you the more for your great sacrifice, but now we must undo it if we can. Heaven has not smiled upon our meeting; perhaps, if we go hand in hand before God together, we may find mercy, perhaps joy!" She made no answer, but nestled against him forgiven, contented. For a time they sailed the sea in silence. The clouds had broken and left a clear sky, whence the moon had flooded the ocean with her silvery light; but the breeze came fitfully and gradually died away where they were now under the lee of the land. It was such a night as lovers dream of. They loved and they were together, side by side, alone, in the soft autumnal night, adrift on a summer sea. There was that in the past which kept them silent; and yet in their very proximity, in the hands that touched and clasped each other, the head that nestled on his shoulder, the arm that encircled her waist, the lips that met, the eyes that spoke,--there was a sweetness which neither had ever known before. The gentle wind whispered of love. The curling, lipping waves caressed the keel with sounds like kisses, and to it all their hearts kept time. It was a respite,--a lull between two phases of the conflict; there was love and there was peace in the little boat, and war and tumult were far off on the horizon. By and by Elizabeth slipped down from the thwart, and crouched down in the boat at his feet. O'Neill held the tiller with one hand; the other lightly stroked her golden head. She was perfectly content; everything was out of her heart but he and the present; she was very still. He could see the soft curve of her cheek resting upon her sweet white hand in the moonlight. After one of the little intervals of silence, he looked down upon her again. She made no motion, and did not reply to a word he said softly, and he discovered that she was asleep. He did not wonder. The experiences of the past few days would have killed any ordinary woman. How heroic she had been! With what abandon she had put aside everything for the purpose of saving him! She had hesitated at nothing. His love for her was measured by his honor; hers for him was boundless. 'Twas ever so; and he had reproached her, spoken harshly to her, upbraided her, turned away from her! How could he have been so cruel! she was so young, his heart yearned over her. He vowed that if God did permit them to escape from the perils which environed them, he would make up to her for every unkind word spoken, every reproach, every cutting glance, by an eternity of devotion. The night, the ocean, the loneliness, impressed him. What had he ever done to be so blessed in the love of this noble woman? His life, as he had said, had been an idle one. In the courts he had played at hearts as he had played at war on the ships for the fun of the game. With her a serious purpose had entered his life and was before him. The silence of the night was broken only by the soft splash of the waves, as the little boat rocked gently through them. The gentle wind grew fainter and fainter; presently the flap of the idle sail against the mast apprised him that it had gone. The white Serapis and her consort were far, far ahead, going fast and leaving a long white wake across the sea. They seemed to have kept the breeze which had failed the small boat. Coming up from the southward he could see the black shapes of the Richard and her attendant ships. What would he have given to be upon the deck by the side of that dauntless captain! But even could he approach the two ships, that privilege would be denied him, for honor demanded that he present himself upon the deck of the Serapis without delay. It might be that it would be too late even then to save Coventry, but he would go and do his best. When the boat lost way, he sat a moment in indecision. He was so loath to awaken the tired girl, but it was necessary. Gently he raised her head. "Why, my dearest," she said, "was I asleep? What has happened? Oh!" it came back to her, "you are going back to the Serapis." Then she looked eagerly forward. The ships were far off now, several miles away; and as the breeze still held with them, the distance was increasing with every passing moment. "We do not advance," she cried, a note of joy in her voice, as her ear detected the flapping of the sail; "the wind has died out." She laughed triumphantly, "We shall never reach them." "And poor Coventry?" said O'Neill. "I cannot help it," she answered simply. "I think only of you. Now if I could go back alone and take his place and let you go free, I would cheerfully do that." "What advantage would that be to me?" he asked her. "Well, there is little use in our discussing it any more," she answered, "for you cannot reach either ship now before it is over. The wind has gone over to them, and we are still." "Ah, but I have another way of getting along." "How is that?" "I shall row," he said quietly. "Will you take the tiller?" "No!" she replied defiantly, folding her arms. "I will not help you at all!" "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" he murmured. "I will not, I tell you!" she said. "Frankly, I do not wish to. What is Edward, what are those ships, what is the whole wide world to me beside your safety?" "I must do it alone as best I can, then," said O'Neill, leaving her side and going forward and unstepping the mast and thrusting out the oars, which he handled with the skill of long practice and strong arms. The difference of speed between the boat and the two ships was now of course greater than before. "Why fatigue yourself unnecessarily?" she said to him at last, after he had been rowing for some time. "You gain nothing; 'tis useless." "No matter," was his reply as he desperately tugged at the oars. "I shall at least have the consciousness of knowing I did what I could." But after pulling hard for an hour, he leaned over the handles of the oars and turning his head looked forward. She was right; it was a perfectly hopeless task. The nearest ships were now ten or a dozen miles away, and going farther, when a flash of light pierced the darkness on the horizon, followed some time after by the roar of a heavy gun. BOOK V IN THE HELL OF BATTLE, ALL CHAPTER XVIII _The Boys in Command_ "The ship is clear, sir," said Lieutenant Richard Dale, saluting smartly. He was a handsome, dashing young sailor, the picture of sea gallantry, as he ran lightly up the ladder from the main-deck and stopped before the little captain of the Bon Homme Richard, standing on the weather side of the poop, keenly surveying the scene. "Very good, sir," said the little man, nodding his head but not turning toward his executive officer. "Look yonder," he added, pointing ahead and toward the shore. "What do you make that, sir?" "It cannot be the Alliance!" exclaimed Dale, in great surprise, as he shaded his eyes and gazed intently in the direction of the setting sun at a large war-ship which was edging in shore toward the harbor of Scarborough, which apparently sheltered a numerous convoy of merchant ships. "'Tis indeed she!" replied Jones, sternly; "I have repeatedly signalled to Captain Landais to follow in our wake,--to form line ahead. If we get out of this thing safely--" He stopped, repressed his feeling by a strong effort, compressing his lips passionately in a way which promised trouble for Captain Landais and the Alliance, a new and handsome frigate, the best of Jones's squadron. After a momentary pause the commodore, a man of few words in time of action at least, turned toward the stern of his ship. "Look aft there, too," he added. "That will be the Pallas, of course," said Dale, as his eye fell upon a smaller ship which was following the Bon Homme Richard. "And the Vengeance, sir?" "There! Hull down on the horizon, fleeing like a coward," said Jones, bitterly. "And those two white fellows forward there," continued Dale, "reaching out from the harbor--" "Are the Serapis and the Scarborough," interrupted the captain, "if the information sent us by O'Neill be correct." "Would he were here!" exclaimed Dale. "Yes, he is himself a host," said Jones, sadly. "We are fearfully short-handed. O'Neill gone, and Henry and Cutting Lunt, our third and fourth officers, both absent. The Frenchmen are an unknown quantity. I have only you, Dale, and Stacey and Mease, and the boys, of course; but I can depend upon you." "Upon me--upon all of us," replied Dale, gallantly, "to the death itself!" "I know it," said the captain, smiling and laying his hand affectionately upon the young man's shoulder. "They are very young, though," he continued gravely, "for such desperate work as this promises to be, but they are brave hearts and true. They will do their best, I doubt not." "With you to command them, sir, they'll not be found wanting, I am sure," said the enthusiastic Dale, who was devotedly attached to his great commander. There was a little pause. "Messieurs," said Jones, turning toward a little group of French officers who were standing on the lee side of the poop. At the captain's word they stepped forward and saluted gracefully. "Colonel de Weibert, you have served in the artillery, I believe?" asked the captain of a fine-looking veteran. The Frenchman bowed. "Will you assist Lieutenant Dale in working the battery on the main-deck? It is an unusual place for a soldier, but we are very short of experienced officers. You understand the handling of great guns. It would be a great favor." "Any place which enables him to fight the enemy is a good place for a soldier, my captain. I am at Lieutenant Dale's service," replied the gallant old soldier. "You, vicomte, and gentlemen," said Jones, turning to De Chamillard, who was attended by several subalterns, "will take charge of the soldiers on the quarter-deck and forecastle. I desire a continuous small-arm fire to play upon the decks and tops of the English ships." "Sir captain," smilingly answered De Chamillard, a dapper, dainty little man, as he in turn bowed profoundly, laying his hand on his sword, "not a man shall escape my marine infantry; I answer for them and for my friends here as well," he added indicating his gay-clad lieutenants, who emulated the vicomte in the profundity of their salutations. "Remember, gentlemen," said Jones, his face lighting, "'tis for the honor of America--and of France. Mr. Brooks," he said to an alert young midshipman who was acting as his signal officer and aide, "signal the Pallas to edge off to the east and engage the smaller ship of the enemy. The big fellow is our game, messieurs. See! they are forming line ahead and are waiting for us. Brave fellows! Quartermaster," he cried, stepping to the break of the poop and looking down at the old seaman and his mates stationed at the wheel, "d'ye see those two ships?" "Ay, ay, sir," answered the veteran tar, shading his eyes with his hand and peering eagerly ahead; "I sees 'em, yer Honor." "That's well. The one ahead, nearest the shore, is our mark. I intend to round to on her port bow. Mind your course!" "Very good, sir," answered the steersman, giving a knowing squint at the lifting sails, and shifting the wheel a few spokes. "Now, gentlemen," continued the captain, "to your stations all! But stay--Mr. Brooks, direct the sailing-master, purser, and the junior officers to come up on the quarter-deck." In a short time the two older officers and a little band of youths whose ages ranged from twelve to seventeen years stood before the captain and saluted. His eyes fell tenderly upon the boys; so youthful and immature were they to be charged with the heavy responsibilities of the coming hour, which would have devolved upon the older men but for their unfortunate absence. "Young gentlemen," he said quietly, "accident has thrust you into positions of great responsibility which otherwise you might not have been called upon to fill for years. We are about to engage two powerful ships of the enemy. The Richard is heavily overmatched in everything except in the spirit and courage of her officers and men. I am determined--nay, we are all determined, are we not?--that the flag which floats above us shall never be struck. We may be sunk, but we will not surrender. I shall try to do my part; you will, I doubt not, do yours?" "Ay, ay, sir." "We will, sir." "Count on us to the death, sir," broke forth from the impetuous youths who clustered about the captain. "Remember that we are fighting not only to uphold the honor of our flag in the face of the most arrogant navy on the ocean, but to rescue from a shameful death--if it be not unhappily too late--one of our brother officers who would give his life to be here." "O'Neill, O'Neill!" cried one and another, the brave Irishman being a great favorite with all. "I enjoin upon you the utmost vigilance and care. Supplement your inexperience by redoubled effort. Be as brave as youths and as cool as veterans. Give implicit obedience to the orders you receive from Mr. Dale, Mr. Stacey, or from me, and exact the same compliance with your orders from your men. They are a hard lot to handle; don't lose control of them." He paused a moment, scanning the intent faces of the lads close about him, and then continued: "Remember, too, we have more than one foe to fight,--the prisoners below, the enemies yonder on the sea, and disobedience in our own squadron. Who keeps guard over the prisoners in the hold?" "I, sir, with the master-at-arms," answered Payne, a resolute-looking youth of fifteen. "I wanted to be on deck in the batteries, sir--" "You could have no more important station, my lad," replied the captain. "Keep them under hatches! Do not hesitate to shoot the first man who makes a move to break out! They must not be allowed to gain the deck. At all hazards, keep them down! I repeat it, sir, keep them down! Do you understand?" "Yes, sir," gravely answered the boy, awed by the emphasis of the captain's manner. "You, Mr. Mayrant, with Mr. Mease the purser and Mr. Brooks, will remain on deck with Mr. Stacey and me," continued the captain. "You, Mr. McCollin, will take charge of the old eighteen-pounders on the berth-deck. You, too, have a post of danger! Be careful of them! I distrust them greatly, yet they must be tried." "Ay, ay, sir. Thank you, sir," said the young midshipman, delighted at being thus distinguished. "Mr. Caswell," he added, turning to the largest and oldest, "you will take charge of the forecastle. Mr. Fanning, I confide the maintop to you. The rest of you will command the several divisions in the main batteries and the other tops. Now, young gentlemen, before you go to your stations, I would take you by the hand; and so," lifting his cocked hat reverently, an example all present followed, "may God guard the right!" There was a suspicious moisture in some of the eyes looking upon the captain, but the midshipmen would have died rather than permit an actual tear to be seen. "Three cheers for Commodore Jones and the bully Richard!" at last shouted Payne, breaking the insupportable silence. The little party, somewhat forgetful of discipline for the moment, crowded around their captain, shaking him by the hand, and turned away. They had come up to the quarter-deck a rollicking set of boys; they returned from it a group of grave-eyed men. "What a splendid set of youngsters!" said Jones to himself, as he watched them spring lightly toward their stations. Then he turned toward the sailing-master: "Mr. Stacey, take the deck for a few moments and hold on as we are. Ah!" he said, pausing with his foot on the ladder as he saw the Pallas, a much swifter sailer than the Richard, rushing by on the starboard side with every breath of canvas drawing, heading for the smaller of the two English ships before them, "there goes the Pallas. Cottineau, at least, is a brave man. I shall remember him. Come, Dale." As he stepped down the ladder a hearty cheer rang out from the passing frigate, which, without order, was lustily returned from the Richard, and then the two officers walked through the batteries. The sun had set for some time, and night had long since fallen over the sea. The lighthouse on Flamborough Head was sending out a great beam of warning from that jutting point. Far on the horizon a silvery brightness had spread itself in the heavens, bespeaking the harvest moon, the burnished rim of which even before sunset had leaped into being on the edge of the water. Lights twinkled here and there on the English ships before them and crowned the hills of the distant town and harbor. Battle lanterns were lighted between decks on the Richard, the yellow flickering radiance from which was reflected from the sinewy, half-naked, sweat-covered bodies of the stalwart men at their quarters, as the captain walked through the crew. It was a varied assemblage of about three hundred men which manned the guns and filled the tops. The crew had been made up in France out of such materials as came to hand. There were about seventy-five tried and true American seamen, most of them veterans of many a hard fight and bold adventure. These commanded the different guns and filled the more important stations. There were, perhaps, one hundred and fifty veteran French soldiers,--old artillerists,--some of whom had volunteered at the guns; a few of the most expert marksmen among them were stationed in the tops, but the greater portion was divided into two large bodies drawn up on the quarter-deck and forecastle. The balance of the crew had been gathered from the riff-raff of all nations; perhaps a tougher, rougher, harder, more desperate body of men never fought a ship; they had but one virtue,--they would fight. Only a resolute hand and an indomitable will like that of Jones had ever held the motley crowd in any kind of discipline. He had ruled the Richard with an iron heart, and in spite of bitter murmurs had forced the men to do his will. The ship had been a slumbering volcano of incipient mutiny and latent rebellion; but in the presence of the enemy, these men whose passion it was to fight forgot their personal grievances, and mindful of the finished skill and superhuman courage of their captain, looked favorably upon him and eagerly anticipated the conflict. Rude jests and bits of sea pleasantry, usually permitted in moments like these, flew up and down the line between the captain and the ruffians under his command as he passed by them in rapid review. The watches had been piped to supper earlier than usual, and afterward a double ration of grog had been served out. The men were in good spirits, and good spirits in them! The captain carefully examined every part of the ship. The young midshipmen who filled the unwonted stations, evidently deeply impressed by their opportunities and responsibilities, were pacing restlessly up and down, eagerly scrutinizing every detail of their several commands. On the berth-deck, standing before the hatch which led into the hold in which over two hundred English prisoners were confined, the commodore found young Payne, attended by the master-at-arms, two American seamen, and three French soldiers, keeping guard. "Ah! I am glad to see you at your station," said the captain, raising his voice, as the young midshipman, full of pride, saluted him. "You remember my orders, sir, which were to shoot the first man who shows his head above the hatch?" There was a hoarse murmur from the prisoners beneath the gratings which covered the hatchway, at this speech of the captain's, which was, as he had intended, clearly heard by them. "Ay, ay, sir. I'll do it; never fear," answered the lad, in his boyish treble. "Remember, sir, that I regard your station as one of the most important on the ship! Those men must not be allowed on deck!" "They shall not be!" answered Payne, resolutely. "If the ship goes down, they go with it!" There was a harsh roar below; oaths, curses, imprecations, and cries were blasted up from the deck beneath them. "Silence there!" shouted Jones. "Remember!" he said to the midshipman as he turned away. "I shall not forget, sir," replied the boy, saluting proudly. "Do what you can," said Jones, turning to McCollin,--"do what you can with the old eighteens." "They shall be fought as long as they exist, sir," answered the young officer. "I know that, sir," said Jones, glancing approvingly from him to the little groups of half-naked men clustered about the guns, the sweat streaming from their muscular bodies in the heat of the narrow, confined quarters, "and you have the men with you who will back you up." A hoarse cheer which resounded throughout the dim recesses of the berth-deck bespoke the hearty acquiescence of the men in their captain's shrewd estimate of their qualities. CHAPTER XIX _'Tween Decks with the Men_ The captain, not ill pleased at this and other manifestations of hearty spirit which had met him on every hand, mounted the ladders and resumed his station on the high poop-deck of the frigate. Anything less like a war vessel could hardly be imagined. The Bon Homme Richard had been an old-fashioned, high-pooped East Indiaman with a towering forecastle. This antiquated makeshift, formerly called the Duc de Duras, had been turned over to Jones for a ship-of-war through the grudging kindness of France. It was the best ship Franklin and the other commissioners of the new American Republic could procure for their greatest sea captain. Jones, out of compliment to Franklin, author of the "Poor Richard" papers, had renamed her; the name was the only thing new about her. She had been pierced for thirty-six guns, twenty-eight twelve-pounders on the main-deck, and eight nine-pounders on the quarter-deck and forecastle. In utter desperation at her entire inadequacy, Jones had recourse to the dangerous experiment, not often resorted to, of mounting six eighteen-pounders in ports pierced for them on the berth-deck, and of course very near the water line. The guns were all of an obsolete pattern and much worn by use, the eighteen-pounders being especially bad; as dangerous, in fact, to friends as foes. Bad as they were, they were all he could obtain, and, with characteristic determination, Jones resolved to make the best of them. The ship herself was so old and rotten that she was not even fit for an ordinary merchant cruise, much less prepared for the shocks of battle. Through an unfortunate combination of circumstances, all of her senior officers were absent except Dale, the first lieutenant, Stacey, the sailing-master, and Mease, the purser. Among that half of her crew who were soldiers, many had scarcely yet acquired their "sea-legs," and some of them were actually seasick during the battle! The Serapis, with which they were about to engage and to which they were rapidly drawing near, was a brand-new, double-banked frigate, mounting fifty guns on two covered and one uncovered decks, twenty eighteen-pounders, twenty nines, and ten sixes. She was manned by three hundred and fifty well-drilled able seamen and commanded by one of the best officers in the English navy, who was ably seconded by a full quota of capable and experienced subordinates. Pearson had no more doubt of winning the victory than he had of the rising of the sun next morning. Leaving one factor out of a comparison of the opposing forces, his confidence was absolutely warranted. But Jones had no more doubt of winning the victory than Pearson had. Pearson knew his ship and his crew; Jones knew himself. He was the unconscious factor which vitiated Pearson's conclusions. When a man like the little Scotch-American captain makes up his mind to do a thing, there is only one thing to prevent his doing it, and that is to remove the man! Jones _intended_ to conquer. There never was a man who had more of the spirit of absolute determination, of unconquerable, unshakable, unbreakable pertinacity in continuing a conflict, than he. He never knew when he was beaten; perhaps because he never was. There was something in the sheer determined, persistent pugnacity of the man which absolutely compelled success. He wrenched victory from overwhelming odds, superior force, fortuitous chance,--everything. The men understood this, too. There is nothing your real hard-bitten dare-devil, your imprudent ruffian, likes so much as a man who is not afraid of him and who will be his master. Your ruffian curses and swears at your man, plots against him, rebels, mutinies, conspires, and in the moment of action follows him like a devotee. The little man standing at the break of the poop, cool, calm, thoughtful, with his student face and somewhat poetic, dreamy smile, did not look like the iron-handed, iron-willed, indomitable master of the motley ruffian band which had been dumped upon his deck--which he certainly was. With the dainty manner of a Frenchman, the courteous deference of a gentleman of the oldest and best school, the calmness of an ancient philosopher, there was in his appearance no outward evidence of the tremendous qualities inherent in the man, save in the sparkling, flashing, piercing eye which plunged through and through those upon whom its glances were fastened, with the keenness of a sword-blade. His men were wont to say that he could _look_ even a frigate into striking her colors if given an opportunity! The hardest ruffian cringed like a cur before him, and this when he was peaceful and quiet. When he grew angry, which was rare, his passion was like Washington's, blasting and appalling. He was perfectly quiet now, however, and he stood by Dale's side at the break of the poop looking over the bows of the ship toward the enemy. As they swept forward through the peaceful sea, a fragrance of balm and spicery and myrrh, which seemed to suggest the many voyages of the old ship in the distant tropic latitudes, clung about the decks and pervaded the gentle air already redolent with the sweet scent of new-mown hay from the not distant shore. It was as calm and sweet an autumn night as ever falls across the tired earth. The land breeze blew softly across the decks; the bright radiance of the glorious moon of harvest sparkled and wavered and flickered with sinuous, restless brilliancy on the tossing water ahead. All the busy notes of preparation had died away. There had come over the hearts of all, in that moment before the approaching crisis, a little silence which bespoke a recognition of the gravity of the impending conflict The mellow-toned bell forward was striking the time; two, four, six, seven bells in the second dog watch, half after seven o'clock. The minutes were being rung away for some of the men upon the decks of the great old ship; for many of them the bell would strike no more. Some who had gazed carelessly upon the setting sun would not see it rise again. Laughter ceased, jests failed, and some unwonted lips, while eyes were heavenward turned, murmured the name of God in belated petition. Even the most hardened and indifferent sailor felt the influence of the hour and was still. Off on the starboard bow, the Pallas was gallantly speeding toward her distant foe. The Alliance, having paid no attention to repeated signals, was still edging in toward the convoy. The Serapis with her topsail to the mast, her men at quarters, ports open, lanterns lighted, was grimly waiting. As Jones's eye fell upon the Alliance, his lips were tightened; a black shadow swept across his face which boded ill for Landais again. When Dale, standing by his side, ventured to break his reverie by a bitter comment upon the defection of the frigate, Jones remarked,-- "Never mind, sir. The fewer we are, the more honor we shall gain by taking them." But in the main the two officers kept silent watch together. Even the chattering Frenchmen caught the contagion of the portentous moments and stood in quiet ranks prepared and ready. It was no quarrel of theirs, this in which they fought, but their old and ever present hatred of England gave them inspiration enough for the conflict. The breeze freshened slightly; and as the Richard drew nearer the Serapis, the latter swung her ponderous main-yard and slowly filled away. The two ships were sailing at right angles to each other, the Richard slightly ahead of the Serapis, which was moving to cross her bow. "Shall I go to the batteries now, captain?" asked the first lieutenant. "Yes, I think you would better," answered Jones, stretching out his hand. "Good-bye, sir," said the other, grasping it firmly. "Good-bye; God bless you, Richard," said the older man, looking gravely at his beloved subordinate. "And you, sir," returned Dale, with an unusual accent of tender affection; then he turned and ran rapidly to his station. "Pass the word quickly," said Jones to young Brooks, "for the men to deliver their fire promptly and together when the word is given. Not a gun is to be discharged until the order. After that, as rapidly as possible." As the fleet-footed midshipman ran along the decks, a little murmur of excitement arose. There was a shifting of positions; men sprang to their stations; hoarse whispers came from the gun captains, as the smouldering matches, or glowing loggerheads, were handed to them by their subordinates. "Silence fore and aft the decks!" came the clear voice of the captain. The murmurs died away as young Brooks sprang up the ladder and reported that everything was ready. The boy officers choked down something that rose in their throats as they walked nervously up and down their divisions. A fleeting thought they gave to home, mother, hours of play, so far away. It was the first battle for many of them. Down on the berth-deck in front of the hatchway, little Payne looked to the priming of his pistols and whispered a word or two to his men, who stood with their muskets pointing down through the gratings covering the hatchway. He wished he had been up on deck with the rest, fighting a great gun, or attached to the side of the captain; but the captain had told him that the post of honor and importance was here, and here he would stand. There, on the starboard side, his young messmate and friend, McCollin, gave another careful inspection to his three old eighteen-pounders, firmly resolved to give such an account with them, if they did not burst, as would decide the action. Caswell and Mayrant were in the forecastle to fight the two guns there. Mr. Mease, the purser, as brave a man as ever stepped a deck, though no sailor, had charge of the quarter-deck guns. Stacey, the sailing-master, stood aft by the wheel to assist in working the ship. Brooks and De Chamillard were on the poop near Jones. Fanning, with his bullies in the maintop, was anxiously wishing that he, too, might have a place in the centre of the conflict, the gun-deck, little knowing what decisive moment was in store for him. They were nearer now, well within gun-shot, yet there was no sound from either ship. The tense expectancy of the moment was becoming unbearable to the younger hands. What were the captains of the ships about? Why didn't they fire? Away off on the horizon, flashes of light and the deep boom of artillery reverberating across the water, told that their consort had joined in battle with the Scarborough. Why were they so slow? Suddenly, in the midst of the silence, broken only by the soft sigh of the summer wind through the top-hamper, the splashing of the bluff bows, as they forced themselves through the rippling water, came the sound of a hail from the English ship, the words of which were indistinguishable. "I don't understand you," cried Jones, then he turned to the quartermaster and said softly,-- "Over with the helm! Hard-a-starboard!" As the wheel was put over by the skilful hands of the quartermaster and his mate, the great ship swung slowly to port and rounded to off the port bow of the English ship. The Englishman hailed again. "This is the United States ship Bon Homme Richard," shouted Paul Jones in reply, at the top of his voice, springing up on the rail the while. "Stand by!" A quiver and shiver went through the ship from her tops to her very vitals. "Fire!" Streams of light leaped out in the darkness; clouds of smoke rose at once from the sides of the Richard only to be met and brushed away by a broadside which had been delivered no less promptly from the English ship. Groans and curses and yells and cheers rose from the blood-stained decks upon which men writhed in the agony of ghastly wounds, or lay contorted in hideous death where they had fallen, for at close range both broadsides had done fearful execution. The desperate men ran the huge guns in and out and loaded them with frantic energy and kept up a continuous cannonade upon their foes. The roar of the great guns drowned every other sound as the two ships sailed side by side in bitter conflict, but the trained ear of the American captain had detected another sound coincident with the first broadside which told a tale of disaster. When the loggerheads had been applied to the priming of two of the eighteens, they had exploded with a terrific concussion, killing and wounding nearly every man of their crews. McCollin, who commanded the battery, was struck by a piece of iron and received a dreadful wound. He remained at his post, however, clinging tenaciously to a broken stanchion for a moment until he recovered himself a little. As the frightened and appalled men shrank away from the remaining gun of the battery, not yet discharged in view of the dreadful explosion, he seized the hot iron from the dead hand of the captain of number one gun, and setting his lips grimly staggered over to the last cannon. "Don't do it, sir!" hoarsely cried the old boatswain's mate who served under him. "It'll blow up with ye, as the others ha' done!" There was no reply. McCollin was beyond words. With set lips and grim face, in silence he wavered on before the awestruck men. With tottering steps he reached the gun and applied the iron. There was a blinding roar and the gun whirled inboard in rapid recoil from the force of the discharge. "Load it again," said the gasping boy, striving to stop the blood with his hand against his side. Before the men, who, inspired by such heroism, had sprung eagerly forward, could reach the piece, an eighteen-pound shot from the Serapis' lower deck struck it fair and square on the trunnion and dismounted it. That battery was useless. The explosion had made a gaping hole in the side of the Richard, through which the red-lighted side of the Serapis but a short distance away could be seen plainly; the deck above and below was badly shattered by the blowing up of the guns. "All the men alive of this division," said McCollin, thickly, "will find places at the divisions on the gun-deck. We can do nothing more here. Good-bye, Payne." A few moments later a powder-blackened, blood-stained, white-faced, desperate little figure appeared out of the smoke before the captain. "McCollin, you here!" he cried sternly, "why are you not with your battery, sir?" "I have to report, sir," said the boy, grasping the rail with one hand to keep from falling, while he saluted with the other, "that two of the berth-deck guns blew up, sir, and the other was dismounted. Have you any orders for me, sir?" "Too bad!" cried Jones. "Orders!--but you are wounded!" At this moment a round shot struck the lad fair in the chest. With his hand still at salute he was whirled across the deck and thrown against the taffrail, a broken mass of what had been humanity. "Good Heaven!" exclaimed the captain, staring and almost losing his iron nerve at this double shock,--the loss of the battery and the death of the midshipman. "Poor lad! A hero!" The ships were nearer now; the rifles of the Frenchmen were cracking and the fire from the great guns was continuous. The Richard had drawn well ahead; and fearful that the Serapis would cross his stern and rake, Jones now shivered his headsails, threw his after-sails aback, checked the way of his own ship, and the Serapis, firing madly into the smoke, drew ahead of the Richard. Jones then put his helm up to try to cross her stern and rake. The quick handling of the English ship frustrated this plan. The bow of the Richard struck the port quarter of the Serapis. The two ships hung together a moment, boarders were called on both sides; but before they could be used, the two ships drifted apart and formed a line ahead, with not a single gun bearing on either ship. The roar of the guns gradually subsided and even the crack of the small arms died away. The smoke drifted slowly off to leeward. CHAPTER XX _The Indomitable Ego_ The battle had been maintained with the utmost fury for nearly three quarters of an hour, and both ships had sustained severe injuries, the Richard being in much the worse condition. The heavy shot from the long eighteens of the Serapis had played havoc with her. Pearson naturally thought that it was about time for Jones to surrender, though the hour when Jones thought it time to surrender would never strike. The sudden silence which had fallen upon the conflict was broken by a voice from the British ship. In high interrogation it rang over the waters in the moonlight. "Have you struck?" was the question of the Serapis. From the shattered Richard came Jones's immortal answer,-- "I have not yet begun to fight!" A roar of wild exultation, a gigantic Homeric laugh, broke from the throats of the crew of the Richard, as the reply of the captain was passed from deck to deck, until the whole ship from truck to keelson quivered with responsive joy. It was a joke, the character of which those blood-stained ruffians could well appreciate; but the captain was in no mood for joking. He was serious, and in the simplicity of the answer lay its greatness. Strike! Not now, nor ever! Beaten! The fighting is but just begun! The preposterous possibility of surrender cannot even be considered. What manner of man this, with whom you battle in the moonlight, brave Pearson? An unfamiliar kind to you, and to most, such as has not been before, nor shall be again. Yet all the world shall see and understand at this time. "_I have not yet begun to fight!_" Surprising answer! On a ship shattered beyond repair, her best guns exploded and useless, her crew decimated, ringed about with dead and dying, the captain has not yet begun to fight! But there was no delay after the answer, no philosophizing, no heroics. The man of action was there. He meant business! Every moment when the guns were silent was a wasted one. The helm was shifted to starboard, and the headsails shivered. The Richard slowly swung off to port and gathered headway again. The Serapis had lost an opportunity of tacking and raking. In order more quickly to bring his guns to bear and perhaps to prevent a raking by the enemy, Captain Pearson threw all aback; and the two ships, one backing, and the other reaching ahead, slowly drew abreast each other, the batteries speaking again as soon as the guns bore. The wind was very light, and the motion of both ships was sluggish in the extreme, so that they practically lay side by side, steerage way almost gone, slowly drifting in for long minutes, until there came a sudden, temporary breath of wind. The position was most advantageous for the Serapis, as with her heavier and more numerous guns she could deliberately knock the Richard into a "cocked hat." She was much the speedier and handier ship, and might reasonably hope to choose her own distance, and, having selected a point of vantage, maintain it to the end. Pearson's game was to fight at long range until he had sunk his enemy; no difficult task that last,--she was half sinking now! But what the Richard lacked in mobility and direction, she made up in her captain. Jones did things instinctively; Pearson had to think about them. Jones's only hope was in getting to close quarters and making use of the disciplined French soldiery upon his decks. They had done good service already in clearing the spar-deck of the English. Therefore, as the Richard, gathering way, gradually forged ahead, her helm was shifted to port and the vessel slowly swung across the bow of the Serapis, which had just begun to fill away again, as Pearson saw that he had nearly backed out of action. The bow of the Serapis struck the starboard quarter of the Richard, the jib-boom thrusting itself violently through the mizzen rigging. There was a terrific crash at the moment of impact; and a second later the English, cheering frantically, jumped upon the heel of the bowsprit and clambered upon the rail of their ship. They were led by a tall distinguished-looking officer, who attracted double attention, as he wore the red uniform of the English army. As their heads appeared over the rail, the powerful voice of Jones could be heard shouting, "Boarders away!" Not waiting for the men who came springing up on the quarter-deck in obedience to his summons, the dauntless captain seized a pike from the rack and hurled it through the air at the leader of the Englishmen. Good fortune guided his hand, and the steel head of the lance struck fair in the bosom of the soldier. The British wavered a moment as their officer fell, and Jones discharged his pistols full among them. Then De Chamillard and those of his marines left alive upon the deck, by a well-directed point-blank volley, drove back the boarding party of the English. The two ships were grinding against each other, and the wind on the after-sail of the Serapis slowly forced her around until she swung parallel to the Richard. The jib-boom snapped off short under the strain, and her starboard anchor caught in the tangled rigging of the American frigate; and Stacey, the sailing-master, sprang to lash the ships together. Stacey snatched a rope from the raffle on the deck and strove to overhaul it. It was tangled, and he found great difficulty in clearing it. An impatient man at best, and now greatly excited, he swore roundly as he tugged at the vexatious rope. "Don't swear, Mr. Stacey," said Jones, calmly, coming to his assistance "In another moment we may all be in eternity, but let us do our duty." With his own hands Jones passed the lashing. On the gun-deck below, the batteries were being fought fiercely. The two ships were lying side by side, one heading in, the other out, the bow of one by the stern of the other, the starboard side of the Serapis closely touching the starboard side of the Richard. In the hope that the Richard would drift clear, Captain Pearson now dropped his port anchor; in vain, no bull-dogs ever clung to foes with more tenacity of grip than did those two ships in deadly grapple joined together. The Richard and the Serapis were fast locked for good, and the two ships swung to the tidal current, the wind being again almost entirely killed. In that position they lay for the next two hours, or until the battle was over. As the Englishman had not hitherto engaged on the starboard side, the port shutters had not been opened, and the close contact of the two ships rendered it impossible to open them then. The Serapis' men were therefore compelled to fire through them, blowing off the port-lids. It was necessary for the men on both ships to extend the long handles of the rammers and sponges of the guns through the ports into the other ship in order to properly load their own cannon. Badinage of a character easily to be imagined passed back and forth between the two crews, though nothing interrupted the steady and persistent discharge of the batteries. The battle below was literally a hand-to-hand conflict with great guns, all the advantages in number and size being with the English. At this juncture a new note was added to the conflict. Jones, whose eyes were everywhere in the battle, observed a black shadow come darting athwart the two fighting ships, shutting off the moonlight It was the Alliance. "Ah!" he said to himself, "Landais has seen the folly of his disobedience and has come to our assistance." As the American ship, with her French captain and half-English crew, loomed up between him and the bright moon, he thought of course that she would range down upon the unengaged side of the Serapis, and with a few broadsides compel her to strike at once. But no, the Alliance under full sail stood on. Her men were at quarters, ports triced up, lanterns lighted. She was passing the bow of the Serapis now. Why did she not fire? The insane and treacherous Landais held steadily on until he was standing squarely across the stern of the Richard. Now she was drawing past them as well. A command rang out. Good God! What was that? Jones was well-nigh petrified with astonishment when at short range the Alliance poured in a raking broadside, of which the Richard received the brunt, though it was apparently discharged impartially at the two ships. As Landais drew past the stern, the helm of the Alliance was shifted. She swung parallel to the Richard, poured in another broadside, circled the Richard forward, and raked her again! The last discharge was a frightful one. The shot at close range swept the crowded decks of the American ship, which seemed actually to quiver and flinch at this treacherous blow. This broadside did much damage, killing and wounding many on the forecastle, among them Midshipman Caswell, mortally. Shrieks, groans, and cries of startled surprise and dismay rose with increasing volume from the ship. "The Alliance, the Alliance--" "We are betrayed! We are betrayed!" "The English have got the ship!" came from every side in wild confusion. "This is the Richard," shouted Jones at the top of his voice at the first fire. "Hold your fire! Show the private signals there!" he cried hastily to the faithful Brooks; but the Alliance paid no attention to these and other warning cries. As the three broadsides were delivered by the American frigate, the men, in their perfectly excusable terror at this treacherous blow in the back, actually began to break from their quarters and leave the guns. That was never to be thought of under any circumstances. "Back!" shouted Jones, promptly. "Back to your quarters, every mother's son of you! Shoot the first man that flinches from the guns!" Dale and De Weibert and the midshipman gallantly seconded his orders; and the Alliance, sailing away toward the Pallas and delivering no more shot upon them, the conflict was resumed. That the men could be got to the guns again after this frightfully unsettling attack, was a supreme testimony to the quality of their officers, and to their own as well. Indeed, upon the part of the Serapis the battle had never been intermitted. The long eighteens of her main battery had simply silenced and dismounted, knocked to pieces, and put out of action nearly all the twelves on the main-deck of the Richard. The starboard side of the American had been beaten in, and the port side beaten out by the heavy fire at close range until the British were literally firing through a hole; the shot hurtling through the air and falling harmlessly in the water far on the farther side. The underpinning of the upper decks of the ship was of course nearly knocked to pieces. Why the decks did not fall in and the whole thing collapse was a mystery. There had been no fighting at all on the berth-deck since the bursting of the three guns, but poor little Payne had hung grimly to his post. One by one the men of the guarding squad had been picked off by stray shot until there were none left but he and the master-at-arms. Several shot from the British had entered below the water-line of the Richard, and she was making water fast. There was nearly four feet of water in the hold then, and it was rising. The prisoners below were in a wild state of terror. Imprecations, curses, appeals, had come up through the gratings over the hatchway, to which the young man had turned a deaf year. To the other dangers of the battle, fire now added its devastating touch. In fact, both ships were aflame in several places. The burning gun-wads had lodged in the chains and other inflammable positions, and writhing, tossing, serpent-like torches threw their hot light over the scene of terror. As the smoke drifted down the hatchway, the prisoners in the hold could stand it no longer. There was a sudden rush below toward the opening; the gratings were splintered and broken by the thrust of a piece of timber; a head or two appeared in the clear; hands clutched at the combings. "Back!" shouted Payne, trying to steady his boyish voice. "No! D--n your baby face!" shouted the first prisoner, furiously, clutching desperately at the combing, while he was being lifted up in the arms of the men below. "D'ye think we'll stay here and be drowned like bloody rats in a hole!" With white lips and a sinking heart the boy thrust his pistol full into the man's face, and with a trembling finger pulled the trigger. He did the like to the next man with a second pistol. To seize the musket of a dead marine and point it at the third, was the work of a second. Awed by this resolution and the promptitude of his action, the other prisoners fell back for the time. The sweat stood out on the forehead of the young midshipman. He had shot a man--two men--in cold blood! It seemed like murder. But he had done his duty. The words of the captain rang in his ear: "_Keep them down!_" It was hot--hot as hell--on the berth-deck. The smoke poured in thick, suffocating clouds between decks. The wavering reflections from the flames on every side accentuated the horror. Bands of men flitted by ghost-like, here and there, with buckets of water, striving to fight the flames; lances of light leaped across the deck from the protruding muzzles of the guns on the Serapis, piercing the gloomy darkness with angry flashes. Bullets, grape, splinters of timber, solid shot, bits of torn humanity, whistled past his head. He was wild, crazy; the hugeness of the tragedy about him oppressed him direfully. There was a weight in his bosom, a choking in his throat; the bitter, acrid taste of the burned powder was in his mouth; the sickening smell of reeking blood pervaded his being; he longed to throw down his weapon and fly, anywhere, to get a respite from the infernal demand upon him. But he was a sailor, the son of a race of fighters. He held on. The deep roar of the guns above him told him that the battle was still going on. Suddenly out of the smoke appeared the burly form of the carpenter, wounded, blotched with red and gray, leaping forward, crying in terror-stricken accents,-- "We're sinking! we're sinking! Four feet of water in the hold!" The gunner and his mates, apparently equally terrified, came running from the magazines as they caught the contagion of the moment. They sprang to the gun-deck and thence to the spar-deck, repeating the carpenter's cry, "We're sinking! we're sinking! Quarter! Quarter!" "We must release the prisoners!" cried the master-at-arms, turning toward the little officer. "Not while I live!" said Payne, resolutely, all his courage coming back to him in a moment. "The ship is sinking; the battle is lost; make way!" returned the burly master-at-arms, springing toward the hatchway. "Back!" cried the midshipman, fiercely, pointing his musket at him; the boy's blood was up now. "Here they stay, and here we stay! The orders of the captain--" He never finished his words; a grape-shot struck him fair in the forehead. The master-at-arms tore open the hatch-cover. "On deck!" he cried; "the ship is sinking!" In panic terror, crowding and trampling upon each other like a mob of wild beasts, the maddened prisoners scrambled up the hatchway, and, yelling like animals, ran pell-mell for the gun-deck. The body of the brave midshipman was spurned, crushed, and broken beneath their feet as they ran. CHAPTER XXI _The Audacity of Despair_ On the spar-deck things had gone better. Though De Chamillard and his marines had been driven from the poop by the fire of the English, the men in the tops had more than evened that reverse. As the two ships lay side by side, the interlocking yards made a convenient bridge from one to the other, over which a bold man might pass. It happened that some of the choicest spirits on the Richard were stationed in the maintop. Fanning, who had been busily engaged with small arms, saw his opportunity. As the little parties in the two tops exchanged volleys, the midshipman threw his men on the yard; and as the smoke cleared away, the astonished British saw the Americans rushing toward them. The first and second men were shot down and fell to the deck of the Serapis; the third, a gigantic man, by a desperate leap gained a foothold in the top. Before he was cut down, Fanning and another had joined him over the futtock shrouds; two men took the defenders in the rear by way of the lubber's hole; the rest came swarming. The force of their rush carried everything before it. The English, unable to stand the irresistible onset, were shot down or thrown out of the top. No quarter was asked or given. The Americans, having effected this lodgement in the maintop of the Serapis, now turned their fire upon the fore and mizzen tops, and enabled boarding parties from their own ship to gain possession of all the upper works of the enemy. It was at this moment that the gunner and the carpenter reached the deck, crying that the ship was sinking and proffering surrender. The gunner ran aft shrieking, "Quarter! Quarter!" intending to lower the flag. Jones, who had been superintending the working of the quarter-deck guns, which were without an officer since Mease, who had been fighting heroically, had been severely wounded, of course heard the noise, and turning about saw the gunner running for the flag. Fortunately the flag had been shot away; and as the gunner was seeking it, fumbling over the halliards in the darkness, Pearson, hearing the cries, called out again,-- "Do you ask for quarter?" Jones had taken two long leaps across the deck to the side of the gunner. Seizing his discharged pistol, he brought the butt of it heavily down upon the forehead of the man, cracking his skull and silencing him forever. "Never!" he shouted in reply to the Englishman. "Then I will give none!" said Pearson,--an entirely superfluous remark, by the way. It was at this juncture that the "Alliance" was seen coming down again as before. Jones had time but for one glance of apprehension when he heard the noise of the leaping prisoners below. He sprang to the main hatch. "The prisoners have been released," cried De Weibert, meeting him; the Frenchman had been toiling like a hero on the gun-deck. "The battery is silenced, we have not a single gun to work, the ship is afire! We must yield!" he exclaimed. As the frightened men came crowding up the hatchways, Dale, who had just fired the only remaining gun on the deck that was left fit for action, took in the situation at once. He stayed the rush in the nick of time by voice and action. He sprang into the midst of them, threatening them, striking them, beating them down, driving them back with his sword. It was a magnificent display of hardihood and courage, presence of mind and resource. "To the pumps!" he cried with prompt decision. "For your lives, men! The English ship is sinking, and we'll go down with her unless you can keep us afloat!" he shouted in thunder tones with superb audacity. The battle lost was won again in that minute. "Well done, Richard!" shouted Jones, leaping through the hatchway and seconding the daring ruse of his noble lieutenant by his own mighty voice and herculean efforts, crying masterfully, "Get to the pumps, men! Lively! for God's sake! The ship is sinking under your feet! The English ship is going!" It was unparalleled assurance, but it won. The two officers actually succeeded in forcing the English prisoners to man the pumps, where they worked with a frantic energy born of their persistent daze of terror. This left the regular crew of the ship free to fight the fires and to do what they could with the remaining guns. As Jones sprang back to the quarter-deck, the surgeon, covered with blood, and appalled at the carnage, came running toward him, crying,-- "The ship is sinking, sir! The cock-pit is under water! I have no place to stow the wounded. We must surrender!" "Strike! Strike!" cried De Chamillard, who was wounded. "We can do no more!" "What, gentlemen!" cried Jones, "would you have me strike to a drop of water and a bit of fire? Up, De Chamillard! Here, doctor, help me get this gun over." The surgeon hesitated, looked around again, and, not liking the appearance of things about him, turned and ran below. Not to his station, for that was under water. His mates had been killed. He wandered up and down the decks, doing what he could--which was but little--for the wounded where they lay. Assisted by two or three of the seamen, with his own hands Jones dragged one of the nine-pounders from the disengaged side of the deck across to the starboard side to take the place of a dismounted one; and, while the heavy battery of the Serapis continued its unavailing fire below, these three small guns under his personal direction concentrated their fire upon the mainmast of the Serapis. The fortuitous position of the Americans in the enemy's tops enabled them to pour a perfect rain of small-arm fire upon the spar-deck of the Serapis with little possibility of effective return. Man after man was shot down by the side of the intrepid Pearson, who, whatever his other lack of qualifications, showed that he possessed magnificent personal courage, until he remained practically alone upon the deck,--alone, and as yet undaunted. It is impossible to describe the scene. It is not within the power of words to portray the situation, after over two hours of the most frightful and determined combat. No two ships were ever in such condition; no battle that was ever fought was like it. The decks were covered with dead and dying; bands of men in different directions were fighting the fires; the smoke in lowering clouds hung heavily over the ships, for the wind had died and there was scarcely enough to blow it away. The pale moonlight mingled with the red glare from the flames and threw an added touch of lurid ghastliness trembling over the smoke-wrapt sea. From below came the steady roar of the Serapis' guns, from above the continuous crackling of the Richard's small arms. The noises blended in a hideous diapason of destruction, which rose to an offended Heaven in the horrid discord of an infernal region. The prisoners, still under the influence of their terror, toiled at the clanking pumps. The water gushed redly from the bleeding scuppers. Order, tactics, discipline, had been forgotten. Men glared with blood-shot eyes, set their teeth beneath foam-flaked lips, and fought where they stood,--fought in frenzy against whatever came to hand, whether it was the English ship, or the roaring flames, or the rushing waters. They recked nothing of consequences. In their frantic battle-lust they beat upon the sides of the other ship with their bare hands and bloody knuckles, and knew not what they did. Their breath came quick and short; the red of battle was before their vision; they had but one thought. Slay! Kill! One would have said that the brute instinct was uppermost in every heart. But in scenes of this kind it is not the greatest brute that wins, but the greatest soul; and the one man who still preserved his calmness in this orgy of war was the man to win the battle--Jones. The Alliance had repeated her previous performance, but the men had been worked to such a pitch that they never heeded her; many of them did not know of it. Both ships were thoroughly beaten. It was only a question as to which would realize it first, who would first surrender. Nay, there was no question whatever of Jones' surrender under any circumstances whatsoever. Pearson would give up under some conditions, and those had at last arrived. That was the essential difference between the two men; it was radical. CHAPTER XXII _Sinking, but Triumphant_ And now happened the incident which finally decided the battle. By Jones's orders, quantities of hand grenades, a small, highly combustible, and explosive shell, about the size of a large apple, had been placed in the tops. After the battle in mid-air by which the Americans had gained possession, he shouted out that they be used in accordance with his instructions. Fanning sent a man with a bucket of grenades out on the extreme end of the main-yard-arm. Wrapping his legs around the yard, he sat down, and leaning against the lift, deliberately threw his bomb-shells, one by one, down the open main hatchway of the Serapis. The powder boys of the latter ship had been bringing charges of powder for the various guns from the magazine; and as many of the guns had been put out of action by the American fire, the supply had been greater than the demand. A large pile had been carelessly allowed to accumulate upon the deck. One of the grenades carromed against the hatch combing, and fell into the centre of the charges. There was a detonating crash, so loud, so terrific, that it actually seemed to blow even the roar of the battle into eternity. Twenty or thirty men were killed or badly wounded, many of them torn to atoms, by the explosion, and the rest of the men on the Englishman's deck were dazed and driven from their stations by the concussion. The clothes of many were actually ripped from their bodies, so that they stood naked and wondering, though they were otherwise unhurt. A long moment of ghastly silence succeeded this accident on the Serapis. Men everywhere paused with bated breath to wait the issue. The Serapis, dragging the Richard, reeled and rocked under the shock. It was a last catastrophe which broke the strength of Pearson's endurance and ended his resistance. He could fight no more. Was it the devil himself who commanded the other ship? The English captain sprang aft to the mizzenmast. A great English standard had been nailed to the timber of the spar. With his own hands he tore it down. The battle was over! At the same moment the mainmast of the Serapis undermined, and, eaten away in its heart by the gnawing attack of the quarter-deck guns of the Richard, came crashing down, a hopeless ruin, carrying some of the Americans into eternity as it fell. "_They have struck their flag!_" cried Jones, who had sprung upon the rail at the moment of the explosion and had witnessed Pearson's action. "Cease firing!" His voice rang through the ship with such a note of proud triumph as has rarely been heard within the fought over confines of the narrow seas. "They have struck; the ship is ours!" ran from man to man among the Americans. Wild cheers broke into the night in an ever-increasing volume of sound. "Send Mr. Dale to me," said Jones to young Brooks as the flag came down. The midshipman had been wounded, but still kept his station. As Dale came running toward his captain, Jones cried,-- "Muster a boarding party and take charge of the prize; the fight is over!" But no, the battle was not over. A few moments before, an English ship captain among the prisoners had succeeded in escaping through the rents in the shattered sides of the two ships and had told the plight of the Richard to the first lieutenant of the Serapis. With this information the men on the gun-deck had been rallied, and led by their officers had returned to their quarters and had resumed the battle. They, too, were heroes. Mayrant, who ran aft from the forecastle as he saw Pearson strike his flag, jumped on the rail by Jones's orders and followed Dale upon the deck of the English ship. Such was the confusion of the moment that as Mayrant leaped on the deck he was actually run through the thigh by a pike in the hand of a wounded British sailor. Pearson was standing alone as if dazed, on the quarter-deck of his ship, holding one clenched hand against his breast, with the other grasping his trailing flag. In his face was that look of defeat and despair which is the saddest aspect of baffled impotent humanity. "Have you struck, sir?" cried Dale, stopping before the English captain. "Yes," was the grim reply; his voice was a broken whisper indicating in the tones his mental agony. "I am come to take possession." "Very good, sir," said Pearson, bitterly, as before, and dropping the flag; then he reached for his sword. Just at this moment, Pascoe, the first lieutenant of the Serapis, came bounding up the hatchway from the deck below. "A few more broadsides, sir, and they are ours," he cried impetuously. "They are in a sinking-- "The ship has struck, sir, and you are my prisoner," interrupted Dale, quickly, seeing the necessity of promptitude. "Struck! This ship! Your prisoner!" cried the astonished Englishman. "Yes, sir. Your sword!" demanded Dale. The man hesitated. "Disarm him!" cried the American. Two or three of the boarding parties closed around them. "Sir," asked the lieutenant, turning to his captain, "is it true that we have struck?" "Yes, sir," answered Pearson, hoarsely. "My God!" cried Pascoe. There was a momentary silence. "I have nothing more to say, sir," he added. "I will go below and call off the men," said the lieutenant, turning away. "No, sir!" interrupted Dale. "You will accompany your captain on board our ship at once. Pass the word to cease firing. The ship has struck." As the English captain and his first lieutenant stepped over the rail upon the high poop of the Richard, the roar of the guns died away, this time for good. Seizing a dangling rope they swung themselves inboard, and found themselves face to face with a little man in a tattered uniform, hatless, covered with dust and smoke, powder-stained and grimy with the soil of the battle. Blood spattering from a wound in his forehead had coagulated upon his cheek. He was a hideous-looking spectacle. The red firelight played luridly upon him. Nothing but the piercing black eyes which burned and gleamed out of his face in the darkness bespoke the high humanity of the man. "Is it--" "Captain John Paul Jones, at your service, gentlemen." "My sword," said Pearson, tendering it to him formally. "I regret," he added ungraciously, "at being compelled to strike to a man who has fought with a halter around his neck." "Sir," said Jones, with a magnanimity as great as his valor, "you have fought like a hero, and I make no doubt that your sovereign will reward you in the most ample manner. Mr. Brooks, escort these gentlemen to my cabin." And which was the gentleman then? The two ships were now cut adrift, Dale remaining on the Serapis to take command. He had sat down a moment for rest, and as he attempted to rise to his feet he fell to the deck, discovering only in that way that he had been severely wounded,--a thing which had escaped his notice in the heat of the action. By the most heroic efforts of the prize crew on the Serapis and the remaining men on the Richard, the English prisoners were driven back into the hold, the flames subdued, and some semblance of order restored. Cottineau had captured the Pallas after an hour of good hard fighting, and the victory was entirely with the Americans. But it had been purchased at a fearful cost. There is no battle on land or sea in the world's history where the percentage of loss was greater than the battle between the Serapis and the Richard. About seventy per cent on the Serapis and over fifty per cent on the Richard had been killed or wounded, and the Bon Homme Richard was in a sinking condition. She had been literally beaten to pieces. It was not safe to remain upon her decks. Consequently the prisoners and the wounded, groaning and crying in anguish, were removed to the Serapis. In the early morning of the day following, the brave ship which had earned undying immortality in her worn-out old age, because for three brief hours John Paul Jones and his men had battled upon her decks, sank forever beneath the sea. The great battle-flag under which she had fought had been reset, and fluttered above her as she went down. The refitting of the prizes for the returning voyage was at once begun. To anticipate events, it is recorded that Captain Landais, the jealous and false-hearted Frenchman who had so treacherously man[oe]uvred the Alliance, was subsequently court-martialled and dismissed from the service. He should have been hanged from her highest yard-arm. BOOK VI THE HAND OF GOD CHAPTER XXIII _On Board the Serapis again_ "The battle is on," said O'Neill, in the small boat, to Elizabeth, "and I am not there. Oh, God, give us a little breeze!" he cried. In anticipation he swung the oars inboard, stepped the mast once more, letting the sail hang, and then resumed his place by her side. "God is good to me," she said at last. "He will not let you be there to be killed. You have had trouble enough, and have run enough risks. He wishes to keep you for me." He shook his head. "My place is there; my duty is on yonder deck. Would that I had returned to the ship without going up to the castle!" "Why, then," she said reproachfully, "you would not have seen me!" "I know," he replied, "but then I would be in my rightful place, fighting where I should be; Coventry would be honored in doing his duty; the admiral would be happy; your marriage would take place-- "And you," she cried, womanlike, placing him in the balance, as opposed to all the rest,--"would you have been happy?" "Happiness has nothing to do with that," he answered impatiently; "it is a question of duty. I have been a fool." "Has the fool been rewarded in accordance with his folly?" she asked him. "Nay, look at me before you reply," she cried imperiously, turning his head until his eyes looked into her own. In the face of that girl, in the limpid light of her magic glance, in that mystic night, there was but one answer to be made. "I say no more," he replied, kissing her softly. "You are right. I have you. You are worth it all. I will try to be a philosopher about all the rest." Meanwhile the intermittent reports had been succeeded by a steady roar of artillery which reverberated and rolled along the surface of the water. The Scarborough, some distance from the Serapis and the Richard to the northwest, was apparently hotly engaged with the Pallas; while the Alliance seemed to be sailing back and forth between the two groups of combatants, pouring in a random fire upon friend and foe alike. Great clouds of smoke, punctured by vivid flashes of light, overhung the ships. Back on the heights above the town the people swarmed. O'Neill could picture the old admiral walking up and down the terrace, glass in hand, while he surveyed the battle. There seemed to be little man[oe]uvring going on between the ships, except on the part of the Alliance, and the combat seemed to be a yard-arm to yard-arm fight. Once or twice the roar of the battle died away temporarily, and the smoke blowing off to leeward disclosed the two ships side by side. Sometimes great wreaths of flame, which told that one or the other ship had been set on fire, would leap up into the air. The feelings of the young officer can be imagined. Adrift in that little boat, watching the awful combat, not even the presence of the woman he loved could compensate him for his absence, in spite of his attempted philosophy. The fever of the conflict possessed him. His breath came hard; the sweat stood on his forehead. He prayed as never before for a breeze to take him to the fight. He murmured incoherent words which told to the tender listener something of the terrible struggle which raged within his bosom. So the long hours wore away. Toward eleven o'clock they heard a terrific explosion, and then the roar of the battle slackened, and finally died away. When the smoke drifted off, the two ships were lying side by side. Further off, almost hull down, were the Scarborough and the Pallas, who had ceased their fight some time before. The battle was over. Who had won? It was a question he could not answer. But it was late, and the breeze so long wished for now sprung up once more, and the little boat gathered way and began to slip through the water again. The sky had become overcast; it grew very dark; the wind freshened steadily, and finally blew so strong that it required all the skill and address of which O'Neill was possessed to keep his unsteady little craft from capsizing. Finally he was forced to drop the sail and take to the oars to keep afloat at all. About two o'clock in the morning a squall of rain came down, and they lost sight of the ships. Toward morning the wind moderated again, and they were enabled to set sail once more. But the ocean was covered with a dense mist; they were in the thick of it, and could see nothing. As nearly as he could judge without the aid of a compass, O'Neill headed the boat toward the place where they had last made out the two ships. "We ought to pick them up in a few moments now," he said to the cowering, frightened, exhausted girl crouching down in the stern sheets in her wet, sodden garments, which clung to her shivering figure. The night had been too much for her; her physical strength had almost given way, though nothing could abate the affection he saw shining still in her tired eyes. "Therefore, in a few moments we shall know our fate." "How is that?" she said, rousing herself a little. "If Commodore Jones has been captured," he answered, "I have but to give myself up and redeem Coventry and--you know the rest." "Yes," she replied wearily and listlessly; "let it come. We have fought a good fight, you and I; we can do no more; and the other alternative?" "Why, in that case," he said, "we shall be there, under our own flag; he, too, will be saved, and the rest of our troubles are over." "What think you of the prospect?" she asked, brightening a little. "It is difficult to say. The Serapis and the Scarborough should easily be more than a match for our whole squadron. The Richard is almost worthless as a fighting ship, as I said. Landais, who commands the Alliance, is insane. I can't prophesy what Cottineau will do with the Pallas. We have but one advantage." "And is that a great one?" "The greatest; it may have decided the battle in our favor." "What is that, then?" she asked. "It is not 'what,' but 'who,'" he answered, smiling. "Who, then?" "John Paul Jones himself! He alone is worth a thousand." The light from the rising sun, assisted by the fitful wind, began to dispel the mists of the morning. "See!" cried the girl, pointing. "There, right ahead of us! Are not those the sails of a ship? What ship?" Wraithlike, as she pointed at a rift in the mist, and wreathed in clouds of vapor, there appeared, for a second, the light canvas of a great ship. Following her outstretched finger, he caught a fleeting glimpse of it, but saw nothing to reassure him as to the result of the battle; the sight struck terror to his heart. Such canvas as that was never set above the decks of the Richard. As he looked the mist closed around them again; the ship had vanished. "Ah, 'tis gone, but I am certain I saw it. Which was it?" she continued, hastily rousing herself at the prospect of decision. "'Tis a ship, is it not? But which one?" "The mist is thinning again. 'Twill clear away in a moment," he answered evasively. "We shall see more distinctly then; she was making toward us, I think." He could not bear to dash her hopes with the assurance that it was not the Richard, though he had resigned himself to death in consequence of his glimpse at once. It was useless to try to fly; the mist was rising in every direction, and before they could have gone a hundred yards they would be visible to the ship in front of them, now shoving her huge bulk through the thinning clouds of vapor which enshrouded her. The next moment it rolled away. The sunlight flooded the heavens in transformation; the breeze tossed the sea into a thousand white-capped waves. It was morning. Some one on the ship saw the little boat with its two occupants at once; an officer leaped to the rail. "Boat ahoy!" rang out over the water. The great white frigate, deep sunken, as if deeply laden, was moving sluggishly through the water, and was almost upon them. "The ship!" screamed the girl, wildly. "It is the Serapis!" answered O'Neill, in a hollow voice. "Ah!" she said, sinking back exhausted. "After all, it is over. I shall never survive you." "Boat ahoy, there!" again cried the officer, standing on the rail, pistol in hand. "Answer my hail, or I fire. Who are you?" "I am your prisoner, escaped last night from that ship," cried O'Neill. "I wish to deliver myself up." "Come alongside, then," said the officer, turning inboard and giving a sharp command. The way of the ship was checked; she was thrown up into the wind, and as her broadside slowly swung opposite O'Neill, he saw that her mainmast was gone and that she was frightfully cut up, and bore evidence of having participated in a tremendous action. Away off to the northeast a little cluster of ships were seen on the horizon, too far off to distinguish them. There was no sign of the Richard that he could see. In a few seconds the boat was brought alongside the gangway. Elizabeth clambered up the ladder with his assistance, and they stepped upon the decks. A frightful scene presented itself. Upon one side amidships, dead men, half-naked, covered with coagulated blood, were literally piled up in a great heap. The deck itself was covered with grime and blood; and a handful of men, most of them wounded in some way, were distributed about the ship, endeavoring to effect some restoration to order. Guns here and there were dismounted; ropes cut in every direction were lying entangled in wild confusion about the fife-rails and masts. The broken mainmast thrust its jagged end a few feet into the air, above the deck; the rest of it was gone. Spars everywhere were shattered, and great rifts appeared in the flapping canvas. The rail and bulwarks were broken and smashed on every side. There was not a single boat left swinging at the davits. Splintered woodwork showed where numberless shots had taken effect, and charred pieces of timber on every hand added heartbreaking evidence of conflagration's devastating touch. From the depths beneath the deck came low groans and murmurs of pain, accentuated by the sharp shriek of some deeper sufferer, or the delirious raving of some fevered patient. Elizabeth shrank back appalled. "How horrible!" she murmured. "Take me away; I cannot stand it!" He caught her in his arms; a little more, and she would have fainted. "Good heavens!" he said. "In all my battles I never saw such a ship! What a frightful scene! They didn't get off without a fight," he added slowly. An officer, with head bound up in a handkerchief and his arm in a sling, was approaching them. "Sir," said O'Neill, saluting the while, "I am the officer who escaped last night. I deliver myself up to-- Why, it's Stacey!" he cried, in great surprise, recognizing a brother officer of the Richard. "What do you here, man?" "'Fore Gad, it's O'Neill!" cried the other. "Glad are we to see you, man. But this lady--this is no place for her." "She goes with me," said O'Neill, briefly. "But you?" "This is where I belong." "And they have captured you, I suppose?" "No; the ship is ours." "And the old Richard?" cried O'Neill. "Abandoned and sunk after the surrender," answered the young officer. "She was cut to pieces by the Serapis's fire, but we have this ship." "Thank God!" answered O'Neill, fervently. "And Captain Jones?" "Aft there on the quarter-deck." "Come, Elizabeth," he cried, seizing her by the arm; and, he assisting her, they made their way with difficulty, in the confusion, to the quarter-deck. "Ah, O'Neill, thank God I see you alive again!" said Jones, springing forward, his face beaming. "We got there in time, then, I see." "Yes, sir, thanks to this lady," answered O'Neill, pointing to Elizabeth. "Madam, you are fit for a sailor's bride," said the little captain. "'Tis high praise, sir, from Captain Jones, I protest," she answered, rallying herself in the relief of assured safety. "Would God that I had been with you in this battle!" cried O'Neill, gloomily. "We missed you. I wished often for you," answered the captain. "The poor old Richard was torn to pieces under our feet. We could not stay on her longer, so we had to come here." "And I not there! I suppose that I have forfeited everything forever for going up to the castle. Shall you break me, sir?" "Nothing, nothing, shall be done, my poor boy," answered the captain, kindly. "You have been punished enough by not having been with us in the greatest battle ever fought on the sea. But it seems to me you have not entirely lost the game. You, too, have a prize in tow. How go your love affairs?" he whispered. "Well, indeed, sir; the Lady Elizabeth is here, as you see. We are to be married at once, sir." "You may have the chaplain of the Serapis for that purpose." "Yes, sir. When he last officiated for me, he was reading my funeral service," replied O'Neill, smiling. "Some people would say it's much the same thing," laughed the captain; "but we know better. Ah well, that's over now, thank God; and this lady--Madam," he said, turning to her, "I bade you welcome to a ship once before. It is a different ship now, but the welcome is just the same." "Know you aught of Major Edward Coventry, Captain Jones?" cried Elizabeth. This time it was she who remembered. "Why, he lies on the deck yonder, dying. He wouldn't let me take him below. Do you know--but I forgot, he was your friend." "Take me to him!" she cried hastily, and in a moment she was kneeling by his side. They had made him as comfortable as possible with cushions and boat cloaks, but his hours were numbered. His head was thrown back, his face ghastly pale. Blood stained the linen of his shirt about his breast. His eyes were closed; the end was at hand. "Poor fellow!" said O'Neill, in great sorrow, "he died for me;" and then he briefly recounted the circumstances of their escape to the astonished captain. "Do you know how he was wounded, sir?" he asked. "It was my own hand that struck the blow," answered Jones. "Would it had been otherwise! There was a moment in the action when they sprang to board. He leaped upon the rail, cutlass in hand; he was a fair and easy mark; I met them with a pike, which I buried in his bosom. He fell back smiling. I remember that I thought it strange to see him smiling at that time, even in the heat of the battle--too bad--too bad!" he said. "Oh, Edward!" cried the girl, tears streaming down her face, "I never thought to see you thus! I never meant to bring you to this! If you could but speak to me--to say that you forgave me for it all! If I could have your blessing before--" The man stirred a little and opened his eyes. He looked about him vacantly, but consciousness began to dawn again, and with the dawn came recognition. It was the face of Elizabeth bending over him. She was the woman whom he loved. There, back of her, was O'Neill. He began to comprehend. "Elizabeth," he murmured, "my death--not in vain--then." "Forgive me--forgive me," she cried brokenly. "Oh, forgive me! I did love you!" "Yes," he said, faintly smiling; "but--not like--" He glanced at O'Neill. "You, too!" he murmured; "make--her--happy." His mind wandered a little. "Father," he cried suddenly, "don't look at me in that way! I did it because I loved her; her happiness before mine." "Oh, doctor, can nothing be done; is there no hope?" cried O'Neill to the attending surgeon. "Nothing, sir. 'Twill not be long now," answered the surgeon, shaking his head. CHAPTER XXIV _Not Guilty, my Lord_ "There's a boat comin' alongside, sir," said a midshipman to Captain Jones, "flying an admiral's flag." "Ah, that will be our friend Lord Westbrooke," he said, turning toward the gangway. "Show him to me if he comes on board." Elizabeth knelt by the side of the dying man, who had sunk into silence again, and bathed his head with her handkerchief, while the doctor applied some simple restorative. In a moment the stately form of the old admiral stepped through the gangway, and he looked about him in astonishment. "God bless me, what a fight! I knew that rebel was a desperate man, but I never imagined anything like this! Captain Pearson?" said he, imperiously. "Where is he?" "Here, my Lord," said Pearson, mournfully, coming out of the cabin, where he had withdrawn a little. "I congratulate you, sir, on--" "Stop, sir!" cried the captain, in great agony. "You do not understand. This ship--we were not successful." "What!" cried the admiral. "Is not this the Serapis?" "Ay, but she belongs--" "To the Navy of the United States, sir," said a calm voice at his elbow, which made him start; "and she is now commanded by Captain John Paul Jones, at your service. I shall be glad to supply you with a yard-arm, if you have need of one, my Lord--" "Good God!" said the old man, turning to Jones. "And the Richard?" "We sunk her, sir," answered Pearson, "but it was useless." "You have done well, Captain Pearson," said the admiral. "Here is evidence of the fight you made. Never fear; you shall receive reward. 'Twas a defeat as noble as a capture." "Ay," said Captain Jones, "I can bear witness to the desperate nature of the resistance. 'Twas such as I have never met before in twenty battles on the sea." "Pearson--my--my--son--" said the admiral, huskily. "How did he bear himself in the fight?" "Well and nobly, sir, as I can testify," added Pearson. "I, too," said Jones,--"I saw him. 'Twas he who led your boarders, Captain Pearson, when they tried to sweep our decks." "And is he well?" said the old admiral, striving to school himself into composure. "That charge, you know, Pearson; I think we need not press it now?" he added. "No, not now, nor ever, sir," said Pearson, mournfully. "Compose yourself, my dear admiral; he--" "I am a veteran," said the admiral. "I have looked death in the face for fifty years. Speak plainly. You would say that he is dead." "Not yet, sir," answered Jones, gently. "Where is he? Take me to him!" "He lies aft there on the quarter-deck, sir." The little group around the dying man made way for the old admiral. He knelt down on the deck opposite Elizabeth, not heeding the others, and gazed long and earnestly in the face of the dying officer. "The last of his line," he murmured, "and he is gone!" A single tear trickled down the weather-beaten cheek, and splashed upon the face of the young man. "Will he live to know me, think you?" said the admiral, simply, to the surgeon. "I think so, yes," replied the physician. As if he had heard the question, Coventry opened his eyes; there was recognition in them. "Father," he murmured faintly. "My boy--my boy," said the admiral, bowing his head, and striving, manlike, but in vain, to conceal his emotion. "You told me--not to see you--again; I tried to obey," said Coventry, faintly. "The charge-- "It is withdrawn; I dismiss it. You have done nobly, Captain Pearson says, and fought like a hero. You are forgiven. I commend you," said the old man, catching his other hand. "Ah, so," said Coventry, smiling wearily. "Now I must go." "Not yet!" cried the admiral. "I--my Lord--" said the young man, wandering again, "may it please the court--may it please the court--" He struggled for breath. "Lift me up," he said. "'Twill be his end," said the doctor, lifting a warning finger. "Lift me up," cried the dying man, more strongly than before. The admiral nodded. The young Irishman lifted him a little. "Higher!" he cried. O'Neill lifted him to a sitting position. "Not guilty, my Lord!" said the young man, resolutely, in a loud, clear voice, throwing his arms out before him, and still smiling. The blood gushed from his lips; and when they laid him back, his plea was heard in that higher court before which the rich and the poor must all finally appear, before which the admiral and the sailor equally must plead. "_The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord_," said the chaplain of the Serapis, reverently. The men stood around him in a silence broken only by the woman's sobs. "He has died like a hero, sir," said Jones at last, removing his hat, "and I venture to say that no one of his gallant race, in all the years of their history, has ever made a better end." "Ah," said the admiral, rising, and mournfully regarding the little group, Elizabeth praying by the side of his son, O'Neill still supporting his head, "I made my plans, I tempted this honorable gentleman to do a shameful thing; he refused, and it has all come back upon me. I've wrought my own undoing, gentlemen. The hand of God has worked His will, not mine. I am punished; I am overruled. He has written this old man childless. I go down to my grave alone--forever alone!" "Not so," answered O'Neill, rising. "You have Elizabeth. Let me, too--" "Peace, sir!" said the old man, waving him back. "The young cling together,--think of each other,--there is nothing left for the old. Our ways lie apart. I bear you in no unkindness, I wish you well. Elizabeth, I had hoped to call you daughter. 'Twas my own pride defeated the wish. May you be happy with this honest gentleman! He deserves you even as did this, my son." "My father--my father--" cried the girl, catching his hand. The old man shook his head; his lips trembled. Gray-faced and broken, all his years upon him, he turned away unsteadily, as if to go to his barge. "Stop, sir!" cried Pearson. "You forget we are not in possession of the ship. We are prisoners," he whispered. "Ah, yes," said the admiral, "I had forgotten it. Well, it matters little to me. Captain Jones," he continued, turning to the little Scotsman, and proffering his sword, with a painful gesture, "I am your prisoner, it seems." "Sir," said the little captain, and twenty generations of gentle blood could not have done it better, "allow me to match the act of an American sailor against the word of an English officer. You are free, my Lord. Your boat awaits you. If I can do aught--" "Be it so," said the admiral, simply. "Let me have my boy, and we will go away together, and I shall remember you differently in the future. If in England you ever need a friend, remember this moment, and call upon me. Farewell." And two hung over the taffrail and watched the white sails of the little boat bearing away to the verdant shore, where the old castle still shone in the sunlight. Two, sad yet exultant. Their troubles were over now. They had lost everything else, but had gained each other in the losing. "We ought to be very good to each other," said the sweet voice of the woman, "to make up to God all that He has preserved us from." "Ay," said O'Neill, "and to give due value to the sacrifice of him who loved you, even as I do myself." 
47785	----	THE ROCK OF THE LION BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL AUTHOR OF "A VIRGINIA CAVALIER" "LITTLE JARVIS" "PAUL JONES" "THE SPRIGHTLY ROMANCE OF MARSAC" "CHILDREN OF DESTINY" ETC. ILLUSTRATED BY A. I. KELLER [Illustration: Logo] NEW YORK AND LONDON HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1897, by HARPER & BROTHERS. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA [Illustration: BASKERVILLE'S EYES FOLLOWED THE COURSE OF THE _SEAHORSE_ Page 5] AT GIBRALTAR. _England, I stand on thy imperial ground, Not all a stranger; as thy bugles blow, I feel within my blood old battles flow-- The blood whose ancient founts in thee are found. Still surging dark against the Christian bound Wide Islam presses; well its peoples know Thy heights that watch them wandering below; I think how Lucknow heard their gathering sound. I turn and meet the cruel, turbaned face. England, 'tis sweet to be so much thy son! I feel the conqueror in my blood and race; Last night Trafalgar awed me, and to-day Gibraltar wakened; hark, thy evening gun Startles the desert over Africa!_ --GEORGE E. WOODBERRY. PREFACE _The Rock of the Lion_ is not a history of the siege of Gibraltar, although the story of that immortal siege of 1779-83 has been closely studied and followed in preparing this book for young readers. The writer has used the romancer's just and inalienable right to introduce real persons and events whenever it would be of service to the story. Only one liberty has been taken with chronology; it refers to Paul Jones, and is unimportant in character. MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL. ILLUSTRATIONS BASKERVILLE'S EYES FOLLOWED THE COURSE OF THE "SEAHORSE" _Frontispiece_ "HE PUT THE CANDLE DOWN AND DROPPED UPON THE SETTEE" _Facing p._ 38 THE LANDLADY STOOD BETWEEN ARCHY AND THE OFFICER " 78 "'PERHAPS YOU DO NOT KNOW THAT I AM AN AMERICAN'" " 106 "ARCHY MAKES AWAY WITH A BAG OF POTATOES FOR MRS. CURTIS" " 132 LANGTON WAS TAKEN DOWN THE HILL IN A WHEELBARROW " 166 HE SAW AN OFFICER LYING IN A DITCH " 200 "ISABEL AND MARY EXTENDED THEIR HANDS TO PAUL JONES" " 278 THE ROCK OF THE LION CHAPTER I The sun, a great orb of glory, hung low in the west, lighting up the sea and sky with a blaze of splendor. Long lances of rosy flame shot across the blue Mediterranean, even to the horizon, which was the color of pearls and opals. Afar off, in the dim distance, the Rock of Gibraltar, a huge, mysterious shadow, like a couchant lion, seemed to keep watch over sea and land. Vast and majestic, looming large in the clear obscure of evening, it dwarfed everything less great than itself into nothingness, except one--a magnificent ship of the line, the _Thunderer_, which swept along under a mountain of canvas. The ensign of England, which flew from her peak, seemed to kiss the skies, while the long pennant, signifying "homeward bound," that flew from the giant main-mast, touched the sapphire sea. A hundred and twenty guns armed her mighty hull, and she carried a thousand men to fight them. The rush of the wind through her tremendous rigging was like the roar of a cataract, and as she cleft the seas they bellowed under her bows with a reverberation like thunder. The crimson and gold rim of the sun still flamed angrily above the horizon, but the pearl and opal and ruby sky changed suddenly to a coppery red, streaked with green, and the wind rose steadily. Approaching the mighty battleship, on the opposite tack, was seen a small frigate, as perfect in her dainty way as the leviathan that was bearing down upon her. She, too, wore the colors of England. As soon as she got fairly within sight a signal-flag was broken out from her foretruck. In answer to it the ship of the line threw her maintop-sail aback and hove to. The frigate did likewise, and a cutter dropped into the water from her side. A midshipman and twelve men were in the boat, and another person--a lad of about sixteen, wearing a naval uniform, but different from the uniform of the midshipman. The boat was rapidly pulled across the blue water, now ruffled by the breeze, and soon lay rocking and tumbling like a cork under the huge hull of the ship of the line. The two lads rose and grasped each other's hand. They said nothing, being Anglo-Saxons, but their looks were eloquent, and in the eyes of both there were tears. The midshipman said a word to the men, and they brought the boat alongside, just under the main-chains. The younger one, taking off his cap, nodded to the men in the boat, and, without waiting for the Jacob's-ladder which was about to be thrown over the side, made a spring like a cat and landed in the chain-plates. The men, ever pleased with a show of daring and dexterity, raised a cheer, in which some of the sailors hanging over the _Thunderer's_ rail joined. The young fellow turned and waved his cap again, and then disappeared through the nearest porthole, a sailor throwing a small bundle after him. Almost before he had seized the chain-plates the maintop-sail yard had swung round, and the great ship was again bounding over the sea. The boy threaded, with amazing swiftness, the gangways and ladders of the _Thunderer_, and soon found himself on the quarter-deck. An officer in an admiral's uniform stood alone on the poop, watching the boat as it disappeared rapidly in the distance, while the captain on the bridge looked anxiously towards the northwest, where clouds were gathering angrily. The boy walked up to the Admiral, and, making a low bow, cap in hand, said, "This, I believe, is Admiral Kempenfelt." "Yes, sir," answered the Admiral. "I have the honor to report to you, sir. I am Midshipman Baskerville, late of the Continental ship _Bon Homme Richard_, and afterwards in the _Serapis_. I was captured at the Texel, and am on my parole. This letter from Captain Lockyer, of the _Seahorse_, explains everything." Admiral Kempenfelt took the letter which the little midshipman handed him, and read: "DEAR SIR,--This will be handed you by Midshipman Baskerville, a young rebel lately in revolt against his Majesty, and lately acting midshipman with that traitor and pirate, Paul Jones. After Jones reached the Texel in the _Serapis_, we kept, you may be sure, a close watch upon him, and the _Seahorse_, with eleven other ships of the line and frigates, cruised outside waiting for him. But will you believe, my dear Admiral, that this little midshipman is all the game we have bagged so far; and he was caught by his own imprudence in going off on a fishing excursion, when a boat's crew of the _Seahorse_ nabbed him just as he got ashore? I received orders to the Mediterranean, and so hand this youngster over to you to take to England. He is the grandson and heir of your eccentric friend Lord Bellingham, of Bellingham Castle, Yorkshire. His father quarrelled with his grandfather, went to North America, and turned red-hot rebel. This boy, being left an orphan, was seduced by Jones to join him, although he swears he begged Jones to take him, and would follow Jones all over the world and beyond. You see, my dear sir, that it would be a very good thing if we could bring this youth to a sense of his duty to the King; and as he is a lad of parts and spirit, I would be glad to see him in his grandfather's good graces. I intended to send him to England on his parole at the first opportunity; but blast me if I have met a ship going home since I took him aboard in October until now. I venture to hand him over to you, having given him orders to report at once to his grandfather when you land. This has been an infernal cruise, and if we have ten shillings apiece prize-money, it will be more than I expect. With best wishes, believe me, my dear sir, "Your very sincere friend and obedient servant, "RALPH LOCKYER." While the reading of this letter was going on, Archy Baskerville stood in an easy but respectful attitude. There were a number of officers on deck who looked at him curiously, but he seemed to see no one. His eyes followed the course of the _Seahorse_, now growing rapidly smaller and fainter in the fading light, and again they filled with tears. He had been a prisoner, it is true, on board of her, but a prisoner kindly treated; and he had one friend--Langton, the midshipman, who had brought the boat to the _Thunderer_--whom he dearly loved. Should they ever meet again? He was roused from his reverie by Admiral Kempenfelt saying to him: "Do you know the contents of this letter, sir?" "No, sir." "I find you are the grandson of my old friend Lord Bellingham--his heir, so Captain Lockyer writes me." Something like a grin appeared on Archy's handsome face. "Hardly, sir. My father joined with my grandfather in cutting the entail, and I cannot get the estates; and I cannot use the title, as I am an American citizen." "A what?" snapped Admiral Kempenfelt. Now, this young gentleman, Archy Baskerville, had a reprehensible quality very common in youth. He liked to be as exasperating as he dared, and having devoted most of his time on the _Seahorse_ to finding out how far he could presume on his position as a prisoner of war, he only smiled sweetly up into the Admiral's face and repeated, blandly: "A citizen of the United States, sir." The Admiral glared at him for a moment, and then, his countenance softening, he put his hand kindly on Archy's shoulder, saying, as if he were addressing a ten-year-old boy: "Come, come, my lad; let us have no more of that. You are young; you are misguided; you have a splendid destiny before you in England, and the vagaries of a mere lad like you, exposed to the seductions of a plausible fellow like that pirate Jones, will be easily overlooked if you return to your allegiance to your King and country." During this speech a deep red had overspread Archy's countenance, but his quick wits had not deserted him. "Sir," he said, straightening up his boyish figure, "a prisoner of war is subject to many temptations to betray his cause; but I did not think that Admiral Kempenfelt would suggest that I should turn traitor, and, what is harder to bear, should insult my late commander, Commodore Paul Jones, when I am not in a position to resent it." If Archy had turned red the Admiral turned scarlet. His eyes and his teeth snapped at the same time, and, wheeling round, he abruptly walked to the end of the poop and back again, his heels hitting the deck hard and his hands twitching behind his back. The officers standing within hearing had difficulty in keeping their countenances, but Archy, smooth and unruffled, was like a May morning. The Admiral again turned and came back towards him. The notion of that youngster giving himself the airs of a post-captain! thought the Admiral. The masthead was the only place for him, and yet the brat was sharp enough to know all he was entitled to as a prisoner of war and to claim it. The Admiral made two more turns; then he came up close to Archy, and with the gleam of a smile said: "May I have the pleasure of your company in my cabin at supper to-night, Mr. What's-your-name?" "With pleasure, sir," replied Archy, promptly, "provided, of course, that you make no efforts to corrupt my loyalty, and say nothing disrespectful of my late commander." Had the great main-mast tumbled over the side at that moment, the Admiral could not have been more amazed. He opened his mouth to speak, and was too astounded to shut it. He looked at Archy carefully from the crown of his curly head to the soles of his well-shaped feet--for the boy was elegantly made and bright-faced and handsome beyond the common. Archy bore the scrutiny without flinching. As for the officers, who were on-lookers, a universal grin went round, and one midshipman giggled outright. Suddenly there was a sharp order and a rush of feet along the deck. The light had died out as if by magic; sea and sky turned black, except a corner on the northwest horizon, where an ominous pale-green light played upon fast-gathering clouds, and the wind rose with a shriek. The men swarmed up the rigging to take in sail, and they were not a moment too soon. Every person on deck immediately found something to do except Admiral Kempenfelt and Archy Baskerville. The Admiral walked up and down, glancing coolly around, but making no suggestions. Archy leaned against the swifter of the mizzen-rigging, and his keen young eyes caught the last glimpse of the _Seahorse_ as she disappeared--a mere speck in the darkness. The inky clouds came down like a curtain upon the lion-like Rock, and the air itself seemed to turn black. And then came the storm. The _Thunderer_, under storm canvas, did battle with the tempest for two days and nights. Driven by mighty blasts, she staggered upon her course, descending into gulfs and then rising mountain high until it seemed as if her tall masts would meet the low-hanging pall of clouds. Her guns broke loose, and on all three of her decks these huge masses of brass and iron were pitched about to the danger of life and limb. Her stout masts and spars bent like whips. Violent gusts of rain came with the scream of the tempest. Her men, drenched to the bone, nearly swept off their feet by the great hissing and roaring masses of water that fell upon the deck, knocked over, slipping up, falling down hatchways, sleepless and hungry, suffered all the dangers and miseries of one of the most frightful storms of the century; yet they never lost heart. The officers, from the captain down to the smallest midshipman, were cool, and apparently confident that the _Thunderer_ could weather the storm; and as in the beginning, so to the end, there were but two persons on the ship who did nothing--Admiral Kempenfelt and the little American prisoner of war, Archy Baskerville; and in coolness and apparent indifference it is hard to tell which excelled--the seasoned Admiral or the young midshipman. Neither the boy's spirit, nor even his sly impertinence, had injured him in Admiral Kempenfelt's opinion, and Archy's courage during those terrible two days was not overlooked. The Admiral felt an interest in the boy, from his long acquaintance with Lord Bellingham, and he thought it a pity that the heir to a great title and noble estates should throw them away by what the Admiral considered rank rebellion; but it was Archy's own fearless spirit that won him the Admiral's respect. On that first dreadful night there was no pretence of serving supper; but, to the Admiral's mingled disgust and amusement, at seven o'clock Archy tumbled into the great cabin, where he found the Admiral seated with a soup-tureen between his knees, out of which he was ladling pea-soup into his mouth with great good-will, but indifferent success. "Ah, here you are, Mr. Baskerville," called out the Admiral, who knew what a midshipman's appetite was, and supposed that Archy had shrewdly calculated on a good supper. "Sorry I can't order my steward to help you; but in that last lurch the ship gave he was pitched head-foremost over the table, and knocked out three teeth and blacked his eye--so he is now under the surgeon's care. But if you will kindly help yourself to that bowl-- Oh, Jupiter!" The _Thunderer_ nearly went on her beam-ends, and so did the tureen. Archy, showing a very good pair of sea-legs, secured the bowl from a mass of broken crockery in the locker, and, presenting it, the Admiral filled it with pea-soup, only spilling about half. "Excuse me, sir," said Archy, and plumped down flat on the floor, where, with the greatest dexterity, he conveyed all the soup in the bowl to his mouth. "Any casualties on deck since I left?" asked the Admiral. "No, sir. The fact is"--here the ship righted herself with a suddenness that threw Archy's heels almost into the Admiral's face--"I don't think it much of a blow." The Admiral stopped his ladling for a moment and looked the boy in the eye very hard. Archy felt emboldened to indulge in a little more boyish braggadocio, and remarked, airily: "That is, there's nothing alarming in the blow, sir. It was blowing harder than this when we made the Texel in the _Serapis_." "Young man," answered the Admiral, "you never saw it blow as hard as this in your life, and you never may again." Archy, somewhat abashed, said nothing, and had the grace to blush; but spying a loaf of bread rolling under the transom, he crawled after it, secured it, and handed it to the Admiral. "Informal, but very welcome," was the Admiral's remark as he divided the loaf and gave Archy half. "As long as this keeps up, Mr. Baskerville, you may as well accept the hospitality of my cabin, such as it is. I hardly suppose any one has thought of slinging you a hammock, and you couldn't stay in it if you had it; but there is the floor, and here is a pillow." "Thank you, sir," said Archy. "Have you ever seen your grandfather, Lord Bellingham?" "No, sir." The Admiral gave a short laugh. "I should like to see your meeting." Something in the Admiral's kind face gave encouragement to Archy, and he replied, "I hope he will receive me kindly, but I ask no favors of him. As a prisoner of war, I am sure to be taken care of, since Commodore Jones has obtained for us sea-officers the rights of prisoners of war, such as the land officers have had all the time. Is my grandfather very--very--dreadful?" "He is a man of sense and honor, but he is very eccentric. I have known him for forty years. Excuse me now, Mr. Baskerville, I am going on deck. I need not ask you to make yourself at home." The Admiral smiled at this--he thought Archy needed very slight invitation to do that. All night the tempest raged. At midnight, when it was at its worst, the Admiral came below for a moment. There were no lights, but by striking his flint he saw a lithe, boyish figure on the floor, cunningly lashed to the transom, as was the pillow, and Archy was sleeping like a baby. "The little beggar is no coward," thought the Admiral, a smile lighting up his face. Next day and next night it was the same. The Admiral noticed many things in that mortal struggle of the great ship with all the powers of destruction, and among them were the different kinds and degrees of courage displayed by the officers and men. Not one showed fear, although each was conscious of the immediate and awful danger, but some bore the strain better than others. There was not one who stood it more calmly, more debonairly, than the little American midshipman. At sunrise on the third day, when the storm passed off to the eastward, they found themselves near a rocky headland that jutted out into the sea. The sun shone brightly, but the sea was still angry, and as far as the eye could reach was wreckage. One glance on the rocks showed them the wreck of the _Seahorse_. Her masts and spars were gone, and the hulk rose and fell helplessly with the violence of the waves. Archy was leaning sadly over the rail when he saw an object floating nearer that he recognized, with a sickening dread, as that of a man's body. It was swept shoreward under the very lee of the _Thunderer_. As it shot past, Archy uttered a cry. The morning light had revealed the pale face of his best friend Langton. Another cry went up from the men on the _Thunderer's_ deck as they watched the ghastly sight. But at that very moment they had all they could do to claw off the land and save the _Thunderer_ from the fate of the _Seahorse_. It was some days before the wind permitted them to return to the scene of the wreck, and they found not a vestige of the gallant ship or her brave company. CHAPTER II The Comet coach, from London to York, left the Angel Inn, on the borders of Yorkshire, at three o'clock in the November afternoon, on the last stage of the journey. It was bitterly cold, and the low-hanging clouds held snow. Inside the tavern parlor the passengers hugged the fire and looked dismally out of the small-paned windows on the court-yard at the coach, to which the horses were being put, while the coachman, taking his last nip from a pewter pot at the kitchen window, chaffed the bar-maid and playfully flecked his whip at the postilion busy with the horses near by. Among the passengers lingering around the fire was Archy Baskerville. He still wore his uniform, which had grown excessively shabby; but he was not without money. He had engaged the box-seat, and had paid for it in a lordly manner, showing, meanwhile, with boyish vanity and imprudence, a handsome rouleau of gold. He had a very handsome new cloak of dark-blue camlet, elegantly lined, and with a fur collar; and his seedy knee-breeches were ornamented with a costly pair of buckles. The singular contrast in his dress could not fail to excite remark. An individual known as a bagman began to chaff him, while the other passengers listened and smiled. "Wot's the matter with your clothes, young man? Did you kill a French captain in that 'ere suit--as you won't change it?" Archy disdained to reply to this, and, wrapping his handsome cloak around him, produced a pair of pistols--not the great horse-pistols of the day, but of the kind used by officers; then he tightened the belt of the sword he wore, according to the custom in those days--all with an air of nonchalance that would have suited a man of twice his age. A pert young woman in a hat and feathers, and travelling alone, then began: "La, me! Have we got to travel in company with them pistols? Sure, they'll go off, little boy, and then we'll all be weltering in our blood." A flush of anger rose to Archy's cheek at this, but he wisely held his peace. His eye fell, however, upon a gentleman on the opposite side of the fireplace, who was wrapped in a cloak much larger and heavier than Archy's, and who, like him, was examining the flints of a pair of pistols--and the gentleman also wore a military sword. He was tall and thin, and had the carriage of a soldier. His face was sallow, and far from handsome, but his eyes were full of kindness and intelligence, and as they met Archy's a subtle sympathy was established between them. Archy guessed, shrewdly, that the military gentleman was an Indian officer. The bagman soon returned to the charge. "Where's the footman as has charge o' you?" he asked. "I had not thought of engaging a footman," responded Archy, coolly; "but if you are looking for a place, perhaps I might take you. What sort of a character can you get from your last master?" A roar of laughter, in which the officer joined to the extent of a smile, greeted this, and the young woman called out: "Bless 'is 'art! I knew he must 'ave a good 'art under that 'andsome cloak!" The blowing of a bugle by the guard at the door broke up the conversation. The discomfited bagman made first for the coach, and the young woman with the hat and feathers bolted after him. A sweet-faced, elderly Quakeress and a handsome young Oxford student followed. Archy came next, and the officer held back a moment to speak to him. "I observe, sir," he said, politely, "you wear a blue naval uniform, but it is unlike that of our service--at least, any that I have seen, but I have been long absent from England." "This is an American uniform, sir," responded Archy, politely. "I am a prisoner of war on my parole and entitled to wear it. I served with Commodore Jones on the _Bon Homme Richard_, and was captured through my own imprudence when we made the Texel on our return from the cruise in which we captured the _Serapis_." At this a slight but marked change came over the officer, and after a moment he said, coldly: "You will pardon me for saying there is very great imprudence, and even danger, in your wearing that uniform in England." "Perhaps so," replied Archy, quickly adopting the same reserved tone, "but it is as honorable as any uniform in the world, and I shall continue to wear it. I observe that English officers on their parole in France wear their uniform and are not molested." The officer passed on without speaking a word, and, courteously assisting the Quaker lady into the coach, stepped in after her, while Archy climbed up on the box-seat. The steps were put up, the door banged to, the guard winded his horn, the coachman cracked his whip, the four horses dashed forward, and with a lurch and a roar little inferior to the _Thunderer's_ in a gale of wind, the Comet started upon its journey. The afternoon was dreary, and the wintry sun shone fitfully upon the vast moorlands through which the post-road, like a serpent, wound its way. The wind was cutting, and Archy shivered in spite of his great furred cape. The dreariness of the landscape affected him, and, as he had done many times since that unlucky day off the Texel, he felt sad at heart. He had left the _Thunderer_ with regret at Spithead on her arrival. He had been kindly treated, especially by Admiral Kempenfelt, and, although he had made no friend like Langton, he had found good comradeship in the gun-room of the _Thunderer_. Before sending him ashore, Admiral Kempenfelt had talked with him kindly, and had advised him to go to his grandfather at Bellingham Castle and there await his exchange. The Admiral had strong hopes that, under certain influences, Archy would return, as the Admiral called it, to his King and country; but he forbore to urge it, seeing in the boy a spirit that was quick to resent any fancied dishonor. He had supplied Archy liberally with money, saying to him at the time: "This will not be too much in case Lord Bellingham refuses to see you; for, mark you, my lad, you have a queer case for a grandfather, and what he will do only himself and God Almighty know, so you had better be prepared for emergencies. However, I think you can take care of yourself. Good-bye, and good luck to you!" Those were the last kind words Archy had heard. In London, being no wiser than any other harum-scarum midshipman who found his pockets full, for the first time, Master Archy had treated himself with great liberality. The playhouses, several cock-fights, excursions by land and water, and a showy outfit had consumed Archy's week in London and Admiral Kempenfelt's money, except the one rouleau of gold, which he exhibited as if he had a bank vault full of them. The subject of his finances deeply engaged Archy's attention as the Comet plunged along the dreary road in the fast-gathering gloom. Occasionally they stopped to take up or let off passengers, but at the last stage--a small village where they changed horses--Archy observed that they had exactly the same complement with which they had started--the officer, the student, the bagman, the Quakeress, and the pert young woman. As they dashed up to the door of a small and uninviting inn about dark, the landlord bustled out with a candle in his hand, and, addressing the coachman in a loud voice meant for the passengers, began: "Have you heard the news? The coach returning by Barham Heath was stopped last night about this time and every single shilling taken from the passengers. If the ladies and gentlemen feels squeamish about going on to-night, I can give them good beds--excellent beds. The Bishop of Carlisle slept here a week ago, and his lordship was pleased to say he slept well. And I have lately brewed. His lordship liked the brew exceedingly--" A shriek from the pert young woman interrupted this. "O-o-o-h!" she screamed. "One of them dreadful highwaymen! I understand as they frequently kisses the ladies besides robbing them. Pray, Mr. Landlord, did you hear as any of the ladies was kissed?" "Don't know, ma'am," replied the landlord, with a grin, "but if you meets a highwayman, and axes him--" "None of your impudence, sir," tartly responded the young woman. "My sister's husband is cousin to one of the aldermen at Carlisle, and if you don't behave yourself respectful to me I'll have your license took away!" At which landlord, passengers, postilions, and stable-boys united in laughing--the coachman only maintaining a stolid gravity. While the horses were being put to, the passengers went into the tap-room to warm themselves, all except Archy and the officer. Just as Archy was stretching his legs in a brisk walk before the tavern door, to his surprise the officer stepped up to him. "Sir," said he, "I perceive that, like myself, you have pistols. Now, the instant I put my eyes on our coachman I thought I recognized a man whom I had seen tried for robbery and acquitted at the Old Bailey for lack of evidence; and I am willing to credit him with being a rascal of the first water, and I should not be surprised if he proves it before we get to the end of our journey. We may have to look to our arms, perhaps." "Mine will be found in good order, sir," responded Archy, greatly pleased to be so addressed by a military man so much older than himself, and to whom he had felt a strong and instant attraction. "May I ask how far you are going?" inquired the officer. "To the village of Bellingham. My grandfather lives at the Castle." The two were standing in the light of a lantern hung from the tavern porch, and Archy saw a start of surprise on the officer's part. He was silent for a moment or two, and, in spite of the habitual self-possession which was visibly a part of his nature, he did not recover himself at once; and when he spoke Archy felt a change in the tone and manner of his new acquaintance. "All danger will be passed as soon as we reach Bellingham. Our young Oxford friend has a sword and the bagman a stout stick, but pistols are the weapons against highway-robbers. I am glad you have yours--and keep your eye on the coachman." "Don't you think, sir," said Archy, eagerly, "that we had better keep our pistols out of sight as far as possible? For if they see we are armed they may not attack us." "My dear sir," answered the officer, petulantly, "you speak as if to be held up by highwaymen was a privilege to be sought, not a danger to be avoided. I am afraid you are a hot-headed young man." "The fact is," was Archy's half-sheepish and half-triumphant reply, "I like to see life--and you know, sir, to be stopped on the road by a determined Claude Duval kind of a fellow is rather er--" "Pleasant," sarcastically suggested the officer; "deuced pleasant. I have often observed of you youngsters that to tell you that a thing is dangerous is generally to put a premium on your doing it. And when it is foolish, besides--zounds, there's no holding you back! But let me tell you, Mr. Midshipman, when you have had my share of hard knocks you will be a little more willing to keep out of them than you are now. For my part, I hope this tattling landlord is lying, and this rascally coachman has turned honest man. Meanwhile, keep your eyes open." By that time the horses were put to, and the guard's horn summoned the passengers to get in, and the Comet started off. The first few miles lay through the same flat, moorland country they had previously traversed, but presently they entered a straggling wood, with a hedge and ditch on both sides. It was now perfectly dark, except for the moon occasionally struggling through the clouds. Within the coach, the Oxonian, a waggish fellow, was amusing himself with telling blood-curdling tales to the gentle Quakeress and the young woman, which last took refuge in groans and smelling salts, and vowed if she ever reached Carlisle again she would never more trust herself on the road. The officer, who had been vexed by Archy's light-hearted seeking of danger, was still more annoyed by the young Oxonian's malicious amusement, and he therefore turned courteously to the placid Quakeress, saying: "Pray do not be alarmed, madam; we can take perfectly good care of ourselves and of the ladies, too." "Friend," mildly answered the Quakeress, "I thank thee, and I am no more frightened by the tales this young gentleman is telling than by the shadows that children make upon the wall to divert themselves, and sometimes to annoy their elders." The Oxonian took this rebuke in good part, while the bagman burst out with: "I am glad the military gentleman thinks us safe; not that I be afeerd. I have travelled the roads of England for ten year with nothing for arms but this stick with a loaded handle, and I believe it has frightened off more robbers than any pair of pistols in England. You see, ladies and gentlemen," he continued, flourishing his stick under the officer's nose, to that gentleman's intense disgust, "it is all to nothing how you meets robbers. Seeing a bold, determined feller like me--I have been took for a officer, I have, many a time--they'll lose heart at the sight and screech out--oh, Lord! oh, Lord!"--for at that moment the coach stopped with a jerk, a dark figure rose up from the ground on the other side of the coach, and the cold muzzle of a long horse-pistol was within an inch of the bagman's nose, who instantly began to bawl for mercy at the top of his lungs. At the same moment a man on horseback leaped the hedge, and, rushing at the coach, levelled another pistol at the guard's head, who immediately tumbled off on the ground and threw up his hands. The robber, seeing there was no fight in the guard, while the coachman sat quite passive, promptly turned his attention to Archy. But a surprise was in store for him. The pistol was knocked from his hand and he himself was looking down the muzzle of one--not so large but quite as effective--in the hands of Archy Baskerville. "Dismount!" said Archy. The robber, with a rapid motion, threw himself from his horse on the side opposite to Archy, and, with a spring, tried to regain his pistol. But Archy, tumbling off the box, was too quick for him. He kicked the pistol into the ditch, and still covered the highwayman with his own weapon. The horse in the meantime had broken away for a short distance, but, apparently well trained, stood in the half-darkness trembling in every limb, but holding his ground. The highwayman, with a glance behind him, made a dash for the horse and bounded into the saddle. Archy was at him in a moment, and as a shot rang out from the other side of the coach, Archy fired straight at the highwayman at short range. But, close as he was, he missed fire. He ran forward and fired again just as the horse was rising to take the ditch, but the highwayman, bending down to his horse's neck, took both hedge and ditch at a leap and disappeared in the darkness. Chagrined and excited, Archy ran to the other door of the coach, where a scuffle was going on. The bagman lay on his back bellowing like a calf. The young woman added her shrieks to the uproar. The Quakeress sat in the coach as calm as a summer evening, while the officer, the Oxonian, and the guard, who had come to his senses, were struggling with a gigantic fellow, who seemed more than a match for all of them. Archy, however, coming up behind, laid hold of him, and in a few moments he was disarmed and his hands securely tied. The officer then turned his attention to the coachman, who had sat unconcerned all through the mêlée. "You infernal scoundrel!" was the officer's first words to the coachman. "I shall deliver you up along with this fellow for highway-robbery. You are plainly in league with them and by far the worst of the lot, as you took pains to save your own skin while assisting these men to rob and perhaps murder us." The coachman, trembling and stammering, attempted to defend himself; but the officer cut him short by directing Archy to mount the box and keep his pistol ready. The Oxonian gave the bagman a kick. "Get up, you great calf! the danger's past, and you can now boast more of the prowess of that stick of yours." The bagman very meekly scrambled up, but showed, when least expected, a capacity to make himself useful. The young woman had continued screaming in spite of the earnest assurances of all the passengers that the danger was over, and the obvious fact that only one highwayman remained, and he was tied hand and foot. "Thee has nothing to fear, young woman," cried the Quakeress, leaning out of the coach. "Murder! murder!" was the answer yelled at the top of a pair of stout lungs. "If it is disappointment, madam, that no attempt was made to kiss you--" began the Oxonian, with grave impertinence. "I'll shut her potato trap," suddenly remarked the bagman. And, seizing her by the back of her neck, he shouted in her ear: "Be quiet, hussy! You haven't no sister married to an alderman's cousin in Carlisle, and now I remembers I heerd you last month cryin' 'Eyesters' in Carlisle streets, and that's where you got that fine voice o' yourn, and it's enough to wake the dead." The young woman responded by giving the bagman a clip over the ear; but she was effectually silenced, and climbed in the coach to the accompaniment of a general smile, the bagman thrusting his tongue into his cheek and winking all around. The coach now started, the coachman maintaining a frightened silence, and, after travelling a few miles more, reached the village of Bellingham, where the officer handed him and the captured robber over to the constables. A crowd of people surrounded the coach, the bagman and the young woman volubly describing the dangers through which they had passed, while the Oxonian, engaging a chaise, soon disappeared on his way to his destination, and the Quakeress retired to her room at the inn. But the first to be out of the way were the officer and Archy Baskerville. As soon as the constables had taken charge of the prisoners, the officer came up to Archy, and, pointing to a huge, dark, unlighted stone pile on a hill, set in the midst of a great park, said to him, "Yonder is Bellingham Castle." Archy expected him to say something more, as in parting from the Oxonian he had offered his card and expressed a wish to meet again, coupled with a handsome acknowledgment of the young student's courage; but apparently the officer thought he had said enough. "Thank you, sir," replied Archy, and then, with a forced smile, he said, "I am by no means sure of my reception. I may be going London-ward to-morrow morning." But the officer had turned away, and Archy, his usually light heart not so gay as he would have wished, struck out towards the park-gates, which he saw in the distance by the glimpses of a cloud-obscured moon. He trudged along in bitterness of spirit for a time; but before he gained the crest of the hill and entered the broad carriage-drive that led to the great arched entrance his spirits had recovered themselves. After all, he was seeing life--a consolation which never failed to console him whenever he fell into adversity. He had almost persuaded himself that it would be a serious disadvantage to be acknowledged by his grandfather by the time he reached the door, when he pulled a huge bell that echoed and re-echoed through the great stone building. He was deeply engaged in examining, by the light of the emerging moon, the square towers at the corners, and the ancient windows, and all the peculiarities of a castle half modern and half mediæval, when the great door opened with a crunching and banging as if the hinges had not turned for a hundred years--and there, in the open doorway, illuminated by a single candle, whose rays only revealed the vast cavern of the hall beyond, stood the officer with whom Archy had just parted. "Come in, nephew," said he. CHAPTER III Without a word Archy entered the vast hall. He was even self-possessed enough to help in dragging the great doors back to their places and securing them with chains and bars. Then, coolly folding his arms, his eyes travelled around the hall, gloomy but magnificent. Great gilt chandeliers hung from a noble roof; antlers and hunting trophies adorned the walls; rusty armor was plentiful, and close to him, looming up in the darkness pierced by the candle's single ray, was a manikin in armor, mounted on horseback. With lance in rest, and ghostly caverns in the casque where the eyes should be, he seemed to stand guard over that ancient place. After a moment the officer spoke. "Did your father never tell you of his half-uncle, near his own age--Colonel Baskerville, of the Indian service?" Archy shook his head. "My father told me as little as possible of his family in England. I do not even know what his quarrel with them was--only I know he felt a deep resentment against them." "He had cause," responded Colonel Baskerville. "My half-brother, Lord Bellingham, objected violently and unreasonably to your father's marriage, and it cannot be denied that he ill-treated your mother under this very roof." Archy, whose temper was quick, and who knew how to make a prompt resolve, and then to act upon it, stood still and silent for a moment; then, turning to the door, began to fumble at the intricate fastening of the chain, saying, quietly, "How do you get out of this place, sir?" "Highty-tighty," replied Colonel Baskerville, good-humoredly; "what are you trying to do?" "To get away from here," said Archy. "I think, sir, that when a man has ill-treated my mother, I ought not to stay one moment in that man's house." "But wait. Lord Bellingham ill-treated every member of his family who dared to marry without consulting his lordship. His only daughter married Captain Langton, a gentleman of character and fortune; but Lord Bellingham, who wanted to marry her off to a duke in his dotage, never forgave her." "That is another reason why I should not stay in the house of such an old curmudgeon," responded Archy, with spirit. "But you will, one day, be Lord Bellingham." "No, I won't--or, rather, I can't--for I am an American." Colonel Baskerville's first impulse was to say "Pooh." Luckily, he refrained--for if he had, Archy, whose hand was on the heavy door-knob, would have bolted out, and never, probably, would have set foot in those regions again. But Colonel Baskerville, seeing he had a hot-headed and impetuous fellow to deal with, only said in response to this: "Listen. I have lately heard, from a safe quarter, that my brother is deeply repentant of his treatment of his son and daughter, and would be glad to atone to their children for his injustice to their parents. No human being has the right to refuse another human being the privilege of redressing a wrong--if a wrong may ever be redressed. Therefore, I insist that you shall see your grandfather." Archy stood silent for a moment, while the idea took lodgment in his mind that generosity and forgiveness were not the mere indulgence of an impulse, but should be a fixed principle of action. He was intelligent enough to grasp Colonel Baskerville's meaning, and presently he said: "You are right, sir. However, I never can benefit by my grandfather's estates, as I know that my father united in cutting the entail. As for this old rookery, it must take a fortune to keep it up." "This old rookery, as you call it, is one of the finest specimens of the feudal age left in England. But let that pass. You are young and necessarily ignorant. No doubt my brother hopes that the family may be continued through one of his two grandsons. The other is Midshipman Hugh Langton, of his Majesty's sea-service." "Trevor Langton!" cried Archy, breathlessly. "Of the _Seahorse_ frigate?" "The same. He is a gallant lad, I hear." "Sir," said Archy, after a painful pause, "it was by a boat's crew of the _Seahorse_ that I was captured--and Langton and I became great friends. I never knew we were cousins--and the _Seahorse_ was lost off the coast of Spain in January, the very day I left her--and I, myself, saw Langton's body--" Here he faltered; he could say no more. Colonel Baskerville's grim face paled, and, putting the candle down with a shaking hand, he dropped upon the great oaken settee that was placed against the wall. [Illustration: "HE PUT THE CANDLE DOWN AND DROPPED UPON THE SETTEE"] "Poor lad! poor lad!" he said, brokenly, "and his poor mother--she was the sweetest creature. I had looked forward to seeing her again with so great happiness, and I already loved her boy." "He was worthy to be loved," answered Archy, feeling a great sob rising in his throat. "He was the manliest fellow--" Then there was a long silence. How strange it all was! Archy, who had lived the quietest and most prosaic of boyhoods in an American clearing on the Chesapeake Bay, seemed, from the day of his father's death, to have fallen into an odd, new world, and sometimes the strangeness of it all staggered him. The silence continued. Colonel Baskerville, leaning his head on his hands, seemed quite overcome by the terrible news that Archy had given him. "It will be a dreadful shock and grief to my brother," he said, after a while. "If he had known dear Langton as I did, his grief would be greater. When I was first captured, it was not very comfortable for me in the gun-room of the _Seahorse_. You know, sir, the extreme prejudice of your naval service to Commodore Paul Jones--and the fact that I had served with him was against me, although I protest I think it the greatest honor in the world to serve under that great man. I did not let the midshipmen have it all their own way"--here the ghost of a smile came to Archy's face--"but Langton stood my friend, and I never loved any companion I ever had half so well. Perhaps, sir, after all, blood is thicker than water." "All that you tell me makes me grieve for him the more. Lord Bellingham, though, has a special disappointment in his death, for you, with your youth and inexperience, can scarcely understand the overwhelming desire a man like Lord Bellingham feels to transmit his title and estates to his descendants; and he has none, except you--and I foresee he would have a hard task to make you adapt yourself to his views." "Poor old Lord Bellingham!" "Poor, indeed, he is, in spite of his rank and estates. I have drawn no nattering portrait of him--but, like other men, he has his good points. He is a bundle of contrariety. He is generous and cruel. He is profuse and parsimonious. He lives in two rooms in luxury, and shuts up the rest of the castle. His unkindness drove his children away from him, and he has spent thousands of pounds in trying to get information about them which one line from him would have brought. He is the finest gentleman and the most overbearing social tyrant that ever lived. He is a courtier one minute, a ruffian the next. For my part, as a younger brother with a pittance besides my pay, I early showed my independence of him--with the result that he has always treated me with kindness, and I am here now because an express met me when I landed from India, begging that I come to him at once. He is very old and feeble. But we are talking too long. You want food, and fire--and, egad! so do I. There was once a bell here--" Colonel Baskerville groped along the wall until he came to the huge cavern of a fireplace, where there was a bell-handle, but the bell-rope was broken. "Humph! Well, I know the way to a little breakfast-parlor, where the servant who let me in told me something would be prepared in a few minutes. So, come with me!" Colonel Baskerville made his way out of the great hall into a long corridor, where, after innumerable windings and turnings and going up and down stairs, they came to a little, low room, where a servant in livery opened the door. A bright fire blazed upon the hearth, and some cold meat and bread and cheese and ale were set out, with splendid plate, upon a table lighted with wax candles. Archy, who had a robust young appetite, would cheerfully have dispensed with the plate and the wax candles for more luxurious fare. Nevertheless, he made great play with his knife and fork, and Colonel Baskerville was not far behind. Meanwhile, the elder man watched the younger one intently, and every moment he felt more and more the stirrings of affection in his heart--the more so when he remembered that Langton being gone, this boy was all that remained to maintain the family name and repute. Nor was he less prepossessed in Archy's favor by observing a strong family likeness to the Baskervilles. Without being so regularly handsome as the old lord, Archy was singularly like him, and Colonel Baskerville believed that when the youth's angular face and form had developed, the resemblance would be still stronger. Many little personal movements, the air and manner of speaking and walking, recalled Lord Bellingham, but Colonel Baskerville concluded it would be a rash man who would point out to the old gentleman how like him was this young rebel. "And for such a fine fellow to belong to the American rebels--it is not to be thought of," reflected this Royalist gentleman. "We must win him back, but we must be careful, very careful--for he is nice on the point of honor." After Archy had devoured everything on the table he stopped eating. When supper was over the servant who waited upon them--a quiet, well-trained butler--led them to an upper floor, where two great bedrooms, with canopied beds, like catafalques, stood in the middle of each. "I prefer this one," said Colonel Baskerville, when the servant opened the door of one, a little less vast and sepulchral than the other, but he accompanied Archy to the door of the next one. "This, sir," began the servant, "is one of the finest bedrooms in the castle. It was occupied by the Duke of Cumberland on his return from the North after the 'forty-five.' It was for him that my lord had these purple silk bed-curtains and plumes at the corners of the tester put up." "Did he?" said Archy, curiously eying the bed. "Well, my man, I think my lord behaved deuced unhandsome to the Duke of Cumberland in putting him in this old hearse, and I don't choose to be served the same way; so you will please 'bout face and show me the way back to the room with the fire, where I will stick it out till morning. Now, march!" The man, open-mouthed but dumfounded, turned to lead the way back. "Good-night, uncle," cried Archy, gayly. "The Duke of Cumberland may submit to sleep in a hearse with feathers, but I'll be shot if an American midshipman will. So, good rest to you, and we'll beard the lion in his den to-morrow morning." And off Archy walked. Colonel Baskerville, with a smile on his keen, intelligent face, continued looking after him. "Ah," he said, aloud, "had your father possessed a tithe of your spirit, he would not have lived and died a morose exile in a foreign land. You'll do, my lad; you'll do." And, still smiling, he turned to his room and locked the door. Archy lay down before the fire in the little parlor, and, wrapping himself in his fine cloak, began to think of all the strange things that had lately befallen him. His mind turned to Langton--so brave, so chivalrous. He smiled, while the tears came unbidden to his eyes, when he remembered their first meeting in the cockpit of the _Seahorse_--each stripped for a rough-and-tumble fight over the merits of the quarrel between King George and the American colonies. The fight had been a draw, but some way, without either knowing why, it had never been renewed. He and Langton had suddenly become friends, and within a week they were laughing over their scrimmage, and, in friendly bouts, testing Langton's greater weight and height against Archy's agility and ability to stand hard knocks. And then came the farewell in the boat--and afterwards, Langton's white face as the boiling breakers dashed him towards the rocks. With this thought in his mind Archy suddenly fell asleep, and did not awake until next morning when the sun was pouring brightly into the little room. Breakfast was served in the same room to Colonel Baskerville and Archy--and a slim breakfast it was. Archy's face grew three-quarters of a yard long when Diggory, the servant of the night before, with a great flourish removed the silver covers to show a little toast and a few rashers of bacon in the dishes. Colonel Baskerville burst out laughing. "Look, Diggory," he said, "you are not catering now for a gouty old gentleman like his lordship, but for an old campaigner like myself and a midshipman like Mr. Baskerville; and go you and bring us some eggs, and whatever you can lay your fingers upon, and remember to stock the commissary for dinner." Diggory went out, and presently reappeared with some additions, and they made a tolerable breakfast; but Archy remarked that he was not surprised at his father leaving Bellingham Castle, if that was the fare he was fed upon. "And now," said Colonel Baskerville, "I shall go to my brother, and he will probably send for you shortly. And I--as I particularly wish you to make a good impression on him--I advise you to send to the village for your portmanteau and put on some other clothes, for my brother will be sure to resent violently your wearing the American uniform." "He appears to have resented violently what all of his family did, without considering the clothes they wore; but, uncle, I tell you I will not take off this uniform. I have my parole, which protects me; and if I ever give this uniform up, to anybody's threats or persuasions, I give up my character as a prisoner of war--and that, seems to me, would be a great blunder--so, if Lord Bellingham does not like my clothes--well, I have some money left, and I can get to France on my parole; and, in short, uncle, I am, like you, independent of my grandfather." "You are a very rash and headstrong young man," was Colonel Baskerville's reply, "but you will learn to be less so if you have any brains at all. You will not be sent for, I am sure, before noon, so you will have time to examine the castle and park, if you like." Colonel Baskerville went out, and Archy, nothing loath, began his examination of the place. As he knew that he and Colonel Baskerville would have to go to the village later in the day to give their evidence of the attempt at highway-robbery, he chose rather to examine the interior of the castle. He spent hours going over it--later on he was to spend days in the same employment--and every moment his respect for the "old rookery" increased. First he went to the great hall. Built in the reign of Henry VIII., it was a noble specimen of sixteenth-century architecture. The beauty of the groined roof was clearly visible by the morning light, that streamed in the long, narrow slits of windows. On every side hung dented armor and helmets that had evidently seen service, and Archy felt a natural thrill of pride at remembering that these sturdy fighting men were his forefathers. Besides the armor, there were on the walls every conceivable variety of ancient weapon--the long arquebuse of Elizabethan days, claymores taken from the Scottish knights and gentlemen who defended Mary Stuart at Langside, the huge swords carried by Cromwell's Ironsides--and all, Archy felt, with a stirring history attached to them. That motionless knight in armor, with his iron-bound legs sticking stiffly out from the sides of his stuffed horse, tremendous spurs fastened to his boots of Spanish leather, and his lance in rest, seemed to stand watch and ward over this storehouse of dead and gone valor. Archy could scarcely tear himself away; but a door in the distance, half open, gave him a glimpse of a long, low picture-gallery, its walls glowing with color, and he walked nimbly towards it. Yes, it was very, very beautiful. It was much less sombre than the hall, and girandoles placed thickly along the wall showed that it could be illuminated by night as well as day. If the arms and accoutrements of these people pleased him, how much more did their counterfeit presentments! The first portrait on which his eye fell was "Sir Archibald Baskerville, Baronet, 1620-1676, general in the army of the Commonwealth, concerned in battles of Edgehill and Marston Moor, and in the capture of Charles I. Voted in Parliament for the King's release on parole, and on the execution of the King retired to his seat, Bellingham Castle, where he was arrested by Cromwell's order and imprisoned for several years, but was finally released and his estate restored to him by Charles II." Well, that Archibald Baskerville was a brave and successful rebel, thought Archy, and perhaps his descendant may have even better fortune. "Rather a hard-looking beggar, though--looks like the highwayman I knocked down last night. I certainly have the advantage of him in having the air of an honest fellow and a gentleman," was Archy's inward comment. But there were scores of others besides Sir Archibald. There were grave judges and frowning admirals, and a bishop or two, besides many red-faced country gentlemen--and the first Lord Bellingham--a laced and powdered dandy of the days of Queen Anne. And there were staid old dowagers, and round-faced matrons, and groups of quaint children, and my Lady Bellingham in farthingale and hoop, and some fair young girls, now, alas! but dust and ashes. As in the hall, Archy would have lingered, but still ahead of him he saw a pair of beautifully carved doors of black oak, and examining them, and turning the wrought-iron handles, he entered a great square room, as large as the entrance-hall, and all books from top to bottom. Archy paused, actually awe-stricken, for, although he had lately given but little time to books, he loved and respected them from the bottom of his heart, and he respected the people who had spent such vast sums on learning. The room was low-ceiled, and the many windows were from the roof to the floor; and over and above all was that air of quiet, of studious retirement, which is the very aroma of the true library. As Archy's eyes travelled around this charming apartment, he noticed there were some busts and a few pictures, and as he advanced into the room he saw, just over the door by which he had entered, a picture with its face to the wall. It did not take Archy long to scramble up by the door and get a good look at the picture, and after a glimpse he deliberately, and with some trouble, turned it face outward, wiped it off carefully with his handkerchief, slipped down from his perch, and, advancing to the middle of the room, stood gazing at it with moist eyes, in which a gleam of anger shone, too, for it was his father's portrait. There was no mistaking it, although it represented a youth of about Archy's age; but the clear-cut, melancholy face, with the deep eyes and thin lips--it was life-like. Whatever the elder Archibald Baskerville's failings were--and they had been many, a violent and morose temper among them--his only child had loved and respected him. One determination had dwelt in Archy's heart ever since he could remember, and that was never to let any one cast, even by implication, a slur upon his father without resenting it as far as he could. Perhaps a dim, instinctive knowledge that his father was, in truth, a very faulty man was the mainspring of this feeling. But Archy was by nature loyal, and not afraid to show his loyalty; and the same spirit which had made him, when a little lad, fly furiously at other lads who dared, with childish cruelty, to taunt him with his father's silence and moroseness and singularity, made him now promptly show that he thought his father's picture worthy of a place of honor. While Archy was looking at the portrait with earnest eyes he heard a step behind him, and there stood Major Baskerville. "What do you think of the old rookery now?" he asked. "I never dreamed of anything like it," was Archy's sincere reply. Colonel Baskerville smiled, and then said: "Lord Bellingham wishes to see you in his own room, and," he added, with a smile, "I wish he had asked me to be present at the meeting. It will be rare sport." "Do you think so, sir?" answered Archy, airily, and flushed with his achievement regarding the picture. "I know it. He has never been defied in his life. I did not defy him. I simply went my own way as a younger half-brother with little to hope or fear from him. But you are his natural heir, and, although he can keep you out of the property, he can't keep you out of the title if you want it." "But I don't want it, and can't use it, sir; and as to his keeping me out of the property, some of that would be precious little use to me. What would I do with a castle? I am a sailor, sir, and I would rather have a seventy-four than all the castles in England. So here goes." And Archy marched off to meet Lord Bellingham, not wholly unprepared what to say and do. CHAPTER IV As Archy entered a room adjoining the library corridor, Lord Bellingham rose to receive him. The boy's first impression was that his grandfather was the handsomest old man he had ever seen. Not very tall, but perfectly well made, with beautiful, pale, unwrinkled features, and a pair of the darkest, clearest, brightest eyes imaginable, Lord Bellingham might well be believed the handsomest man of his day. He was elegantly dressed in black satin coat and knee-breeches, with black silk stockings and black shoes with diamond buckles on his delicate, high-arched feet. His hair was powdered, although it was in the morning, and the dandy of the Court of George II. was still a dandy, even in his Northern fastness. The day was mild, but a bright fire burned upon the hearth, and a black velvet cloak, thrown over the chair, was evidently for use then and there. The impression made upon Archy was great and immediate, and Lord Bellingham had no reason to find fault with him for any want of deference when he advanced and shook his grandfather's hand in silence, and then waited to be addressed. "Grandson," said Lord Bellingham, in a musical voice with no touch of the tremor of age, "I had, some weeks ago, a letter from my excellent friend, Admiral Kempenfelt, telling me of you." "The Admiral was most kind to me, sir." There was a pause, and then Lord Bellingham suddenly asked: "May I inquire your plans for the future?" Archy studied a moment or two before answering, and then said, quietly: "I propose to await an exchange of prisoners which will shortly take place in France. Then I shall join Commodore Jones again." At this a deep-red flush overspread Lord Bellingham's face; he clinched his hands, and seemed about to burst into a torrent of wrath, but restrained himself. When he spoke, it was to say, in a cold voice: "I had a grandson--Trevor Langton--who was in his Majesty's service, and a loyal officer of his Majesty. It has been my hard fate to lose him--and to find you!" "Sir," said Archy, firmly, "although you have found me, you are not obliged to keep me. I came here on the recommendation of Admiral Kempenfelt. I have some money, and when I get my share of the _Bon Homme Richard's_ prize-money I shall have plenty--the _Serapis_, sir, was a very valuable ship, and worth a hundred of our poor old _Richard_. I am ready to go away to-day--now, this moment, if you wish me." Lord Bellingham's reply to this was to seize the fire-tongs and vigorously attack the sea-coal fire. The tongs, however, becoming interlocked in some way, he suddenly threw them violently across the room, where they struck a marble bust of the philosopher Plato--the apostle of mildness--and smashed the nose off. So far from agitating Lord Bellingham, this accident seemed to compose him, and he calmly remarked: "I feel relieved. My temper is peculiar, and I find that by giving it vent in some noisy but harmless manner I am soonest calmed." Archy's response to this was to burst into a suppressed guffaw of laughter, which his grandfather perceiving, he also smiled. "Rebellion seems to sit lightly on you, boy," he said, presently. "I have had some experience of what rebellion means. During the rising in '45 I was suspected of disloyalty. I had known the Young Pretender in Rome when I was on the grand tour, and we were much together--ah, they were wild days! After my return I was for some years at Court, although I disdained any appointment. At the time of the rising I happened to be here, and entertained the Duke of Cumberland on his way to the North. When everything was over, and the prisoners from Culloden were being marched southward, what was my surprise to find myself among them, mounted on a horse whose bridle was led by a foot-soldier, with orders to shoot me dead if I attempted to escape. When we reached London I had no difficulty in clearing myself from suspicion without a formal trial, and the King was pleased to admit me to his levee immediately after my release. The Lords Bellingham had been counted as among the Tory nobility, and that was one reason that suspicion fell on me; and my enemies magnified some former acts of civility to Charles Edward into complicity with him." "But, sir," asked Archy, very earnestly, "did you really--er--a--I mean--did you not in your heart wish him to succeed?" It was now Lord Bellingham's turn to smile. "If I had, I should be now probably dwelling in a cave in America." "We are not cave-dwellers, sir. We have excellent, good houses. But you had better luck when you were captured than I when I was captured at the Texel, for I was chased along the sand and marshes by the _Seahorse's_ men--and knocked down, and flung into their boat as if I had been a lame puppy--and when I tried to cry out, I was choked by a great monster of a boatswain's mate, and told they would chuck me overboard if I did not choke my luff--and they would have done it, too, sir! And then," added Archy, slyly, "you would have been spared the finding of me." "Young man, you have a gift of repartee. Be careful how you use it." "I did not know, sir, until now, that I had any such gift. But when a man enters the naval service"--Archy was barely sixteen, but he swelled out his breast and stretched up his lithe, handsome figure as much as he could--"he is forced to learn to take care of himself. If he does not, certainly nobody will take care of him." "I suppose," said Lord Bellingham, "since, articles of exchange have been agreed upon, it would be best for you to remain here until you are regularly exchanged. Then I hope you will be persuaded to return to your allegiance to your King and country." "Pardon me, sir," replied Archy, rising at once, "it is not customary for officers on parole to listen to such propositions." "Not from their own families, eh?" "My family has not been sufficiently kind to me to warrant them in advising me in a matter so delicate. My father gave me permission, before his death, to enlist in the naval service of the colonies--and with his warrant I need no other." "Your father was not so respectful to the wishes of _his_ father. But, be seated again. I am now an old man--childless, for my only remaining child, Trevor Langton's mother, has long been estranged from me. Had her son lived, we might have been reconciled--I deserve some indulgence. Stay here for a time at least." It seemed to Archy that Lord Bellingham did not have much claim to indulgence, judging by what those who knew him best said of him. But, in truth, Archy was fascinated by his grandfather's interesting personality. He wanted to see more of so odd a character--and the consciousness of having at least enough money to get back to London whenever he wished, and last, but not least, some faint awakening of the tie of blood, determined him. "I will stay, sir," he said, presently. "I think my father would perhaps wish me to--and my mother--I do not remember her, but--" he paused suddenly. Ought he to stay? "For your mother, I can only say that I had no fault to find with her except that she married my son. My ebullitions of temper were mistaken as insults to her--but it has always been my misfortune to have these trifling and inconsequent faults magnified and mistaken." Lord Bellingham's novel view of himself nearly caused Archy to explode with laughter again--but he had begun to want to stay a while at Bellingham Castle, and, like most people, he had but little difficulty in persuading himself that what he wished to do was the best thing to be done, so he presently agreed. Lord Bellingham then began asking him questions about his life in America, and Archy, nothing loath, plunged into a description of it, telling of the abounding plenty of the colonists, his own pleasant boyhood on the Chesapeake, the splendors of the viceregal court at Williamsburg--these splendors did not become the less in the telling, and Archy was not without gifts as a story-teller. Lord Bellingham listened with the deepest interest. The story of this new, free, fresh life beyond the seas was fascinating to the old man, reared in courts, and spending his later days in luxurious and eccentric solitude. And without in the least suspecting it, Archy was every moment growing in grace in his grandfather's eyes. Here was no hobbledehoy, but a handsome stripling, already with some knowledge of the world, fearless, frank, and quick of wit. Before either of them realized how time was flying, the shadows grew long, and Diggory, appearing at the door, announced his lordship's dinner. "Request Colonel Baskerville to dine with me to-day. You, grandson, will remain." As Archy had an idea that his grandfather's dinner was considerably better than what Diggory chose to provide for his uncle and himself in the little parlor, he agreed with alacrity, and in a few moments the three were sitting around a small round table glittering with plate, where an elaborate dinner was served. Every moment that Archy passed with Colonel Baskerville he felt more and more drawn towards him. He had been through stirring scenes in India with Lord Clive and Warren Hastings, and when questioned by Lord Bellingham, he told of them so interestingly that all three forgot the hour, and they were interrupted by a message from the village asking them to come and give their testimony at the inquiry about the attempted robbery. When they returned it was night, and there was no invitation to join Lord Bellingham at supper; but Diggory, acting under secret instructions, provided them with an excellent supper. Scarcely were they through when a request came from Lord Bellingham that Colonel Baskerville wait upon him in his own room. Archy, left alone, provided himself with a book from the library, and, mending the fire and trimming the candles, seated himself for a long and delightful evening of reading. But presently the book fell from his hand, and he began thinking over the rapid events of the last year, and then his mind turned towards Langton. So young, so brave--Archy thought he had never met a more gallant fellow--and so quiet withal--the favorite alike of officers and men. He began to wonder how, in their many long talks, nothing had ever revealed to each other their relationship. But he remembered that he instinctively avoided all mention of his family, a trait learned from his father, who had never even told him of any relations named Langton. And Langton's mother had probably, for the same melancholy reason, kept him in the dark also. While these thoughts were passing through his mind, hours slipped away. The candles were burned to their sockets when Colonel Baskerville appeared. "I have spent the evening with my brother, talking about you," he said to Archy, seating himself. "You seem to have politely defied him, and thereby conquered him." "If he thinks I mean to give up my country--" began Archy. "Tush! You can do nothing until you are twenty-one. But I think I can promise you that nothing will be left undone to charm you with England, and with your place as Lord Bellingham's heir. He asked me about your clothes, and I explained about the uniform--ha! ha!" Colonel Baskerville laughed outright at the recollection. Next morning Archy went to the library for another look at his father's portrait. To his indignation, he found it turned to the wall again. Archy then, locking the door to be secure from interruption, carefully and deliberately turned every picture in the library to the wall. Then, with an air of triumph, he met Diggory's eye when that functionary came to him with a message that Lord Bellingham desired to see him. At that interview Lord Bellingham mentioned that he had sent to York for a full supply of clothes for Archy, for which Archy thanked him politely. That very night, on going to his room--not the Duke of Cumberland's, but a smaller and less splendid one--he found two large boxes of clothes. Archy, who was by nature a dandy, examined them with pleasure. There were three very elegant suits, two of them laced, a quantity of linen, and a fine flowered dressing-gown. When he rose next morning he was surprised and annoyed to find that his shabby continental navy uniform had disappeared mysteriously, and in its place lay a handsome cloth riding-suit. He remembered that Diggory had come into the room to make the fire, and he suspected the clothes had gone out under Diggory's arm. A shout in the corridor brought Diggory--but he stolidly protested that he knew nothing about the clothes. "He is lying," thought Archy; "but I will be even with him, and my grandfather too." So, dressing himself, but putting on his gay dressing-gown instead of a coat and waistcoat, he coolly walked down to breakfast. Colonel Baskerville laughed at the apparition, and he laughed still more when Archy afterwards gravely paced up and down the terrace in full view of his grandfather's windows. After a while he started off, through the park, towards the village. A window was flung up behind him, and Colonel Baskerville's voice called out: "Lord Bellingham desires to know where you are going?" "To the village, sir." "In that rig?" "I have no other, sir. My clothes have been stolen." And off Archy marched, the dressing-gown flapping about his knees. Just as he reached the park gates he heard some one pursuing him at a quick trot. It was Diggory. "Lord, sir, here are your clothes! His lordship is near having a fit at home, swearing most awful, and Colonel Baskerville laughing like to kill--and I ran and fetched the clothes." "Next time you take my clothes, you impudent lackey, I will break some of your worthless bones for you," was Archy's reply. And with Diggory's assistance, in the middle of the roadway, he put on his well-beloved, shabby blue uniform, and went calmly on his way to the village. CHAPTER V Several weeks passed by and, as Colonel Baskerville had predicted, nothing was left undone to make Archy feel how desirable a position Lord Bellingham's grandson and heir would hold. Every afternoon his grandfather sent for him, and talked long and interestingly to him, telling of the early days at the court of George II., describing splendid court functions to him, and impressing upon him with great art the important position that the Baron of Bellingham would always hold, both socially and politically--for Lord Bellingham had the disposal of three seats in Parliament. Archy listened attentively enough, but the effect of much that he heard was directly the contrary of what his grandfather expected. Archy was quite sharp enough to realize that many of the usual advantages of rank did not appeal to him, while its restrictions were almost intolerable. He saw that the possession of a great name and estate, and all the vast privileges of a peer in the eighteenth century, had only intensified all of his grandfather's faults, his violent temper, his dictatorial disposition--and had neutralized his talents, which were considerable. The sight of an irritable, eccentric old man leading a life of perfect solitude, estranged from all his family except his half-brother, and using every art of cajolery to make himself tolerable to his only grandson, was not an inspiring one to a boy of Archy Baskerville's high and daring spirit and inborn love of adventure. Nevertheless, Lord Bellingham showed signs of softening, which were more surprising to Colonel Baskerville and the rest of his household than to Archy, who had seen really the best of him. He seemed to take a melancholy interest in hearing of Langton's many fine qualities and personal charm--and one day, after a long conversation with Archy, Lord Bellingham said, almost as if talking to himself: "My poor daughter--what misery to lose such a son!" A day or two after that Colonel Baskerville said to Archy, in his usual kind but curt manner: "You have done a good thing in speaking of Langton to your grandfather. He has this day written to his daughter--the first time for twenty years. He is really becoming quite human." Lord Bellingham, however, seemed to be ashamed of any soft or generous impulse, and harangued Archy upon the subject of his daughter and her son as if the real sorrow was not Langton's death, but the loss of a possible heir to the Bellingham estates--and as for the title, he seemed to regard Archy's indifference to it as something sacrilegious. "All titles are not honorable, sir," said Archy. "There is Sir Henry Clinton, the British commander at New York. He is called the Prince of Blunderers. Nothing pleasant about that, sir." Lord Bellingham showed his appreciation of this news about Sir Henry Clinton by giving a savage kick to a chair near him, which in its turn knocked over a table with candles on it, and only Archy's quickness prevented a fire on the spot. When quiet was restored, this young American, in perfect good faith, and thinking himself rather a clever fellow for hitting upon a solution of the question of the estates, came near bringing a hurricane of wrath down on himself. "There are two girls, sir. Langton has often told me of his sisters, and you could give the estates to them." "Girls!" almost shrieked Lord Bellingham, and then relapsed into a state of silent fury at the idea that Bellingham should go to two girls. Archy looked deeply hurt at the way his remark had been received, and left his grandfather's presence with an air of haughtiness ridiculously like the old man's, which caused Colonel Baskerville to laugh heartily at the scene. But Archy made no more suggestions as to the disposition of the Bellingham estates. At the end of December the assizes were held at York, and Lord Bellingham, as Lord-lieutenant of the North Riding, was to attend them in state. "And I should be glad, my dear Archibald, to have your company in the coach," said the old gentleman, in a tone of dulcet softness, having forgiven Archy his maladroit speech. Archy, who would walk ten miles any day to see a fine show, readily agreed. Nothing was said about clothes; but when Archy carefully examined his blue uniform that night, he found that it was indeed on its last legs. His elbows were out, his knees were but little better, and, worse than all, he was shooting up so tall and filling out so fast that he had completely outgrown both jacket and trousers. There was no help for it; Archy laid his beloved shabby uniform away carefully, and next morning appeared at breakfast in the handsome brown riding-suit. Colonel Baskerville noted it with an approving nod. "I fully reckoned on your getting a broken head, sooner or later, for wearing your American uniform. It was foolhardy; but I perceive, nephew, you are inclined to be foolhardy." "The French, sir, called Captain Jones foolhardy when he sailed into the narrow seas with the _Ranger_ sloop, and they had fifty-five sail of the line holding on to their anchors at L'Orient; but he came back all safe, and brought the _Drake_ with him. And they said he was worse than foolhardy when he went out in the poor old _Bon Homme Richard_; but he came back again, and that time he brought the _Serapis_--huzza!" Here Archy got up and cut a pigeon-wing, nearly upsetting Diggory with a tray full of cups and saucers. "Let me tell you one thing, young man," remarked Colonel Baskerville, coolly; "you have a very clever trick of always having the last word, but don't imagine for a moment that it proves you are always right. Clever tricks count for but little in the long-run." Archy went into a brown-study at this remark, and at the end of ten minutes came out of it to say: "Uncle, I believe you know a great deal, one way and another." "Hear! hear!" said Colonel Baskerville, sarcastically. "A young gentleman not yet seventeen gracefully admits that a man three times his age actually knows something! You amaze me, nephew." "I don't admit that I don't know anything," stoutly protested Archy. "Far from it, my dear boy. You know more now than you ever will, if you live to be a hundred. Every year of your life you will know less--in your own estimation, that is. But at present you have nothing to learn." At which Archy laughed rather sheepishly, and went on with his breakfast. Immediately after breakfast the splendid coach-and-four, with outriders, was drawn up at the main entrance, and Lord Bellingham appeared, magnificently dressed, with his breast covered with orders, and a diamond-hilted sword on his hip. He entered the coach, taking the middle of the back seat, while Colonel Baskerville and Archy sat facing him. It was a beautifully clear December morning, and when the horses took the road through the park at a rattling gait, it was exhilarating in the highest degree. Colonel Baskerville's plain but kindly face lighted up, and even Lord Bellingham seemed to feel a briskness in the blood. But Archy grew unaccountably grave. He had an indefinable feeling that he was leaving it all for the last time, and caught himself involuntarily looking around at the gray old castle on the hill, the slopes of the park on which the red deer stood peacefully feeding, the low chain of blue hills in the distance, as if he were saying farewell to them--nor could he shake off this singular impression during the whole drive. At the park gates they were joined by the mounted yeomanry, and every parish they passed through sent its quota, until, when they reached the old minster city of York, they had a great cavalcade behind them. The venerable town was in holiday garb. The trainbands were out, with fife and drum; the sheriffs and lord-lieutenants of all three ridings were present in state; and the judges in their robes awaited the forming of the procession to the assize hall. The life, the color, the masses of people who filled the picturesque streets of the beautiful old town, were captivating to Archy--but what amazed him most was to see a number of man-o'-warsmen about. He was not long in finding out that there was a large fleet at the mouth of the Humber, and these were liberty men who had come to York in wagons to spend their few hours of shore time. But Archy was himself a sailor, and he began to consider that captains were not wont to allow men so far inland merely for a day's holiday, and the presence of several officers threw a flood of light on the question. "They are press-gangs," he thought to himself. "The fleet, I have heard, is short-handed, and they have selected some of the trustiest fellows and sent them here with their officers, and many a stout countryman will sleep to-morrow night on one of his Majesty's ships." But Archy soon became so taken up with the splendid pageant of opening the assizes that he forgot the sailors for the time. The highwayman and his accomplice, the coachman of the Comet, were to be tried at that term, but Archy soon found that the trial would not come off until the next day, and his testimony would not be wanted until then. All was grand and imposing until the prisoners were brought in, but the sight of so much misery and wickedness smote the boy to the heart, and he quickly left the favored position he occupied in the hall, and went out and walked about the streets. The sitting of the Court was unusually prolonged, and the short December day was rapidly closing in before the procession was again formed, with something less of state, to return to the grand dinner served to the judges and all the great functionaries. In the evening there was to be a splendid assize ball, and while wretches were bemoaning the sentences of death or transportation they had received, and trembling prisoners waited in anguish the coming of their turn of trial, a splendid company assembled for the ball. But the same strange feeling of oppression still hung upon Archy. The sights he had seen were very brilliant, but there was something in the very word Assize that sobered him. After dinner he slipped quietly away from Colonel Baskerville, and joining the crowd outside the noble building where the ball was to be held, watched the assembling of the guests. Among the last to come was his grandfather. Never had Lord Bellingham looked more superb than when he descended from his coach, bowing right and left to the cheering crowd. He was an unpopular man, a hard landlord, and overbearing to his equals--but he was noble to look at, and the unthinking crowd cheered him because of that. Archy felt no inclination to enter the ballroom then, and wrapping his cloak around him, he sauntered away into the distant streets, now silent and deserted under the quiet stars. He was thinking deeply and rather sadly--trying to imagine how his father had walked those streets twenty years before--recalling Langton, and pitying his grandfather's coming loneliness when both he and Colonel Baskerville left him--for he had made up his mind to go to London with Colonel Baskerville shortly, and to see what his prospects of exchange were. He wandered on and on, until he found himself in a remote corner of the town, opposite a quaint, old-fashioned inn, its spacious tap-room opening on a level with the street. Inside were a number of sailors and countrymen, and slightly separated from them, in little box-like compartments, were two or three naval officers. Archy was surprised at this at first, but he soon reasoned it out for himself. "It is a regular raid they are planning," he thought, "and the officers are there to quietly direct. Oh, there will be a love of a scrimmage!" and this notion proving very enticing, Archy entered, and calling for bread and cheese and ale, seated himself in one of the little boxes by the fire. The landlady, a handsome, middle-aged woman, and her three buxom daughters, he soon guessed were in the plot with the officers, who spent their money freely, and kept the landlord and all his assistants on the trot. One party at a table particularly attracted his attention. There were half a dozen sailors who let on, in their characteristically imprudent way, that they had lately been paid off at Plymouth, and being north-country men, were on their way home to see their relatives instead of spending their money in riot and dissipation in Plymouth and London. One of them, a hale, handsome, well-made man of about fifty, particularly struck Archy's eye. "You won't stand much of a chance, my fine fellow, with a press-gang," thought Archy, admiring the old sailor's brawny figure and fine, sailor-like air, "nor your mates either, and if I were out on a press for men I don't know but I would be as quick to nab you as anybody." Besides the main door, there was another door opening upon a corridor that led to the court-yard, and through this corridor passed the landlord and his wife and daughters, and the waiters, serving the guests. Presently Archy saw an officer get up nonchalantly, open the door slightly, then close it, and the landlady quietly barred and locked it. Archy, however, had a momentary glimpse down the corridor, and he caught sight of a huge covered wagon, with four horses, drawn up in the court-yard. Five minutes afterwards every light went out like magic, leaving only the half-light of a blazing sea-coal fire; the front door was clapped to, and as if by a preconcerted effort a dozen sailors dashed at the seafaring men seated at the middle table, others made a rush for several countrymen quietly munching bread and cheese, and a general mêlée was in order. After the first moment of surprise, the sailors did not have it all their own way, and a tremendous uproar followed. It seemed to be quite free from any of the enmities of a fight, though, and the landlord, standing off impartially, grinned, while the landlady and her three daughters seemed to consider it the height of a frolic. The three officers on the edge of the struggling crowd shouted out orders, and several brawny countrymen were secured after a hard scuffle. But the sailors at the middle table were used to that sort of thing, and it was plain that the press-gang had its work cut out to capture these men. The next thing they did, after fighting off the first onslaught, was to throw themselves like a battering-ram against the door leading to the corridor, the main door being much too heavy and too securely fastened for them to break it down. The corridor door gave way with a crash as they hurled themselves against it, but a dozen sailors rushed to it, and fought them back step by step. The men, led by the handsome old fellow that Archy had admired, held their ground stoutly, but they were slowly driven back from the door, only to intrench themselves behind the long tables, where, brandishing chairs, shovels and tongs, sticks, and anything else they could lay hold of, they jeered at the sailors with cutlasses, and dared them to come on. "Catch that old fellow, my lads--he's the best topman in the service," bawled one of the officers, and in response to this half a dozen men surrounded the old sailor, who, armed with the kitchen poker, made it fly around like a flail. During all this uproar and confusion Archy had sat still in his corner, a perfectly disinterested observer; but when he saw a young sailor suddenly begin to crawl under the table to seize the old man by the legs, Archy could not remain neutral another minute. He made a dash at the young fellow, and, seizing him by the legs in turn, immediately found himself in the thick of the fight. The men who were to be pressed, encouraged by their new recruit, who yelled out, "Stick to it, my lads! Don't let 'em take you against your will!" made a sortie from behind the table, valiantly led by Archy with his sword; but this rash proceeding proved disastrous--they were quickly overpowered by numbers, and every one of them finally captured. They made a desperate fight for their new ally, and protected him to the end, the old sailor being the last to succumb; but when Archy's fortunes seemed most desperate, he suddenly found a friend in the landlady. "Hey, there!" exclaimed this sturdy Amazon. "Let the young gentleman alone. He ain't no man for a press-gang!" And with that she pushed her way between the struggling, shouting men, and, planting herself firmly before Archy, cried out, brandishing a canister of snuff she had snatched off the mantel-piece, "The first man as lays hold on this here young gentleman gets snuff in his eyes. And you, Hizzy, Betsy, and Nancy, come here and help me to keep this sweet young gentleman out o' the way o' them murderin' ruffians, bad luck to 'em!" [Illustration: THE LANDLADY STOOD BETWEEN ARCHY AND THE OFFICER] Hizzy, Betsy, and Nancy, three great, strapping girls, each bigger than Archy, ran forward at this. Hizzy, pulling out a table-drawer and handing a rolling-pin to Betsy and another to Nancy, armed herself with a tremendous pair of shears, and, marching to her mother's side, prepared to defend "the sweet young gentleman." The officers and men, disconcerted for a moment by the sudden move on the part of the women, fell back, laughing. "Please, sir," said one of the sailors, with a broad grin, to the officers, "we knows how to fight men, but we ain't used to handlin' women--and we leaves 'em to our betters." The landlady, who had heretofore made no objection to the rumpus going on, now suddenly discovered that it was a very outrageous proceeding, and began to harangue at the top of her lungs. "Nice goings on, this, for a respectable tavern! Next thing we'll be up afore a justice and have our license took away! And arter takin' away our customers, peaceable men as pays their score, you wants to nab with your beastly press-gang a beautiful young gentleman, with a handsome cloak and silk stockings. But never you mind, my darlin', we'll keep them murderin' ruffians off and send you home to your lady mother"--this last to the hero of this tale, who, in his heart, somewhat resented the language of his rescuers. "Madam," explained one of the officers, in a tone of the mildest argument, "we are exceedingly sorry to cause your ladyship and your ladyship's lovely daughters any inconvenience, but that young gentleman we mean to have, to serve as we please, for his insolence in daring to resist the King's officers; so here goes"--and at this he made a dash forward, and, seizing the landlady round the waist, attempted to drag her away. But the Amazon, as good as her word, gave him a shower of snuff in the face. His two brother officers, coming to his rescue, were so unmercifully whacked on the head with the rolling-pins in the hands of Betsy and Nancy, while Hizzy jabbed at them with the shears, that they soon found it prudent to retire amid the roars of laughter of both victors and vanquished. They presently returned to the charge; and now beheld Mr. Archibald Baskerville, late midshipman on the continental ship _Bon Homme Richard_, dodging back and forth behind the women's petticoats, and always managing to keep the buxom form of one of their ladyships, as the officer had called them, between him and his assailants. Meanwhile, what with the scuffle, the sneezing from the snuff which the landlady had so freely distributed, and the roars of laughter with which the combat was witnessed, the cries and shouts, there was a noise like Bedlam; but Archy, anxiously dodging hither and yon, found nothing to laugh at in his somewhat grotesque circumstances. The fight was desperate, the manoeuvring masterly--but, at last, a young lieutenant with a long arm seized Archy from behind Hizzy's skirts, and giving him a clip on the ear, he suddenly fell over, and the world became a blank to him; he heard not another sound and knew nothing more of the fight with the press-gang. CHAPTER VI When Archy came to himself he was lying in a comfortable berth in a cabin on board ship. This much he dimly realized when he waked as if from a long and dreamless sleep. It took him a little while to understand this. At first it seemed quite natural; he thought he was on the old _Bon Homme Richard_; and when the faint memories of Bellingham Castle and his grandfather and Colonel Baskerville floated into his mind, he thought it was a half-forgotten dream. But by degrees his clouded intelligence grew clear, he remembered everything--the fight in the tavern, the blow that deprived him of consciousness--and, suddenly raising himself in his berth, he began to bawl, "Halloo, there! Halloo!" A quiet man who had been sitting just outside the cabin door came in at this. "I wish to be put ashore instantly," said Archy, angrily. "I was carried off by a lot of villains in a press-gang last night, and I demand to see the captain and to be sent ashore immediately--immediately, do you hear?" The quiet man grinned exasperatingly. "I reckons, sir, 'twill be a good while afore your foot touches dry land. We are now in the Bay of Biscay, latitude 47 degrees, longitude 3 east from Greenwich, as I hearn the sailing-master tell the cap'n just now--and he'd be mighty willin' to oblige you, but I hardly thinks as he'll be able to set you ashore immediate." "Where am I?" asked Archy, in a dazed way. "What ship is this?" "This here ship, sir, is the _Royal George_, flag-ship of Rear-Admiral Digby, Cap'n Fulke, and we are carryin' all the sail that dratted convoy will let us for Gibralty, with the rest o' Sir George Rodney's fleet--good luck to 'em." It took several minutes for Archy to digest this. He was too staggered by what he had heard to make any further inquiries, but his quiet friend proved communicative enough. "You're in the sick-bay of the _Royal George_, sir, and I'm the sick-bay nurse. It seems as how the officers thought as they'd git a good press at the York Assizes. We was layin' off the mouth of the Humber, waitin' for the rest o' the convoy from Ireland, and some o' the men deserted, though we had left Plymouth o' purpose, as soon as we got our complement, to keep the men aboard. But they got away in spite o' our keepin' a sharp lookout, and the officers, as I say, went to look after some others to fill their places. You took a hand in a scrimmage, sir, in a tavern, and the officers wanted to nab you just to git even with you; but that blow on the head was unexpected sharp. Just as you dropped they heard the constables coming. York ain't no seaport town, and the constables don't know enough to let a press-gang alone while it is mindin' its own business; so our men had to cut and run, and they brought you off with 'em, sir, thinkin' you'd peach on 'em if they left you behind. But they meant, as soon as daylight come, to leave you at some village on the road and let you make your way back to York, for they see you was a gentleman, sir. When daylight come, though, you was still layin' like a log, and they was right at the place where the boat was to meet 'em; and when they got down to the mouth o' the Humber there lay the _Royal George_ with the bluepeter flying, so they just had to hustle you on board and turn you over to the surgeon, or else leave you to die on the shore. So they brought you off, and that's six days ago, and this is the first time, sir, you have opened your peepers since, and I must go and tell the surgeon." Archy lay there alone for a few moments, feeling strangely weak. The reaction of his first awakening was upon him. Presently, a tall, raw-boned, red-headed surgeon entered, and introduced himself in a manner not unkind. "I am Dr. MacBean--at your service, sir. Glad to see you so much better. You have had a close shave in more ways than one"--Archy put his hand to his head to find that every hair had been shaved off, and his head was as bare as a peeled onion--"but we have pulled you through. I suppose you remember the circumstances of your finding yourself with our men." "I remember the fight with the press-gang, but I got a blow that stunned me, and don't recollect anything more." "We saw that you were a gentleman, sir, as soon as you were brought aboard, and we regretted the anxiety your family and friends must feel on your account. No doubt Admiral Digby will take the first opportunity of acquainting them with your situation, and if we meet a ship homeward bound, you will be transferred." "But England is not my home," explained Archy, in a troubled voice. "I am an American midshipman on parole. I was merely visiting my grandfather, Lord Bellingham, when I went to York--and--my name is Archibald Baskerville, and--" Archy stopped through weakness. "There, there; you have talked enough," said Dr. MacBean, thinking his patient was off again into vagaries. But when he went to report to the captain, who happened to be on deck conversing with the Admiral, he had reason to know that Archy was entirely sane in the account he had given of himself. Admiral Digby had heard of the young rebel, grandson of Lord Bellingham, and brought home by Admiral Kempenfelt in the _Thunderer_. He knew that Lord Bellingham's seat was in Yorkshire, and that, as Lord-lieutenant of the East Riding, he would be present at the York Assizes, and he had no doubt that Archy was just what he represented himself to be. "I'll go below and see the youngster myself," said the Admiral, and off he marched. As he entered the little cabin Archy opened his eyes languidly, but the very sight of Admiral Digby was interesting and inspiring. A perfect type of the British sailor, his kind though firm glance and his cheery manner were like a breath of the strong salt air. "Well, Mr. Baskerville, you have had ill-luck," began the Admiral, cordially; "but never fear, sir; you will be sent home by the first chance, and meanwhile we will have the pleasure of your company. I understand you were with my old friend Kempenfelt?" "Yes, sir," replied Archy, now feeling quite bright and strong, and every inch Archy Baskerville, "the Admiral was very kind to me. He knew my grandfather, and he lent me some money--oh, Jupiter!" exclaimed Archy, suddenly, "how will I ever return that money!" Admiral Digby roared out laughing at this. "No doubt Lord Bellingham will see to that; but when we lend money to midshipmen in our service we feel that it is casting our bread upon the waters." "I dare say it is the same with us, sir," replied Archy. "But there is nobody to lend us any on this side of the water. Even Commodore Jones has often wanted money for a dinner, and that, too, in France, where they profess to be our allies." "Mr. Baskerville," said the Admiral, seating himself on the one stool in the cabin, "I should like, when you are able, to hear the story of that remarkable man. I do not share the prejudices of my countrymen towards him." "Then you can understand, sir," replied Archy, "the devotion that his own officers feel for him." "Perfectly. Now tell me if anything has been done towards your exchange, for you are indebted to Jones for a system of exchange." "Nothing has been done, sir. I was reported to the Admiralty when I was captured, and when I landed at Portsmouth from the _Thunderer_ I went up to London and reported myself. Then I went to my grandfather's, Bellingham Castle, and expected to hear pretty soon from the Admiralty. I know that exchanges have been made, but my name has not been among them." Something like a smile flitted over Admiral Digby's face at this, and Archy's sharp wits interpreted it. "I have been thinking, sir," he continued, "that my grandfather, instead of helping forward my exchange so I can return to France, is rather preventing it." "I understand that you are Lord Bellingham's heir," responded the Admiral. "No, sir. Heir only to the title I can't use. The entail is cut." "Your grandfather, no doubt, is anxious for you to live in England with him. In that case you would have a splendid future before you." "If you had tried living with Lord Bellingham--" began Archy; then stopped. His grandfather had certainly been very kind to him, and the shovel and tongs and boot-jacks and other impedimenta which Lord Bellingham so freely distributed in his rages had never flown in Archy's direction. Admiral Digby laughed outright. "There are very few persons in England or Scotland who don't know about Lord Bellingham," he said. "But to return to yourself. As soon as you are able to leave your berth you will become the guest of the gunroom mess, and then I shall hope to have the pleasure of your company occasionally in the great cabin. As soon as we meet a homeward-bound vessel you shall be put aboard of her, whether it be before or after we reach Gibraltar. And now good-day to you, and may you soon be on deck again." After the Admiral left him Archy lay there a little time longer, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was hungry. He bawled for the sick-bay nurse, and when the man came ordered him to bring him some of everything that was served in the galley. The man followed these directions, and Archy, finding his midshipman's appetite returning in full force, devoured everything in sight. Just as the last scrap of pudding disappeared Dr. MacBean entered. "It is just time, my young friend," blandly remarked the surgeon, "that you may have a light meal of gruel served you, but nothing solid--nothing whatever of that kind." "Much obliged, sir," answered Archy, "but I have just finished a glorious meal--pea-soup, salt horse, potatoes, and pudding--and I feel about a hundred times better." "Very well," said the surgeon, dryly, in his broad Scotch accent. "I have always said that the only way to kill a midshipman is to cut off his head and throw the head away; otherwise he will come to life, sure. There is a young man on board now who was shipwrecked, had an arm and three ribs broken, survived a Spanish doctor, and is apparently as good as new. You two must be first cousins." Dr. MacBean did not know he was a prophet. When the doctor left him Archy got up quietly, and, dressing himself as fast as he could, made for the deck. He found himself weaker than he expected, and as he reached the top of the main-hatch he sat down awhile to rest himself. It was a sunny afternoon, mild for the season, and the vast deck of the great ship of the line was alive with men as she ploughed her way majestically over the waters. As far as the eye could reach the sea was flecked with sails. The "dratted convoy," as the sick-bay nurse called it, consisted of a great number of store-ships containing relief for the starving but indomitable garrison at Gibraltar, under General Sir George Eliot. A huge fleet, under Sir George Rodney, escorted it, and the men-of-war, compelled to carry reduced sail, so as to keep up with the slow supply-ships, were formed in double column in the rear of the convoy. The _Royal George_ led the left wing. Presently, in the bright afternoon, they saw a ship approaching them on the opposite tack. The _Royal George_ was in advance of the rest of the squadron, and as the stranger neared them it was plain, from the squareness of her rig, that she was a ship of war and she flew the Union Jack. When she was nearly abeam of the _Royal George_ she kept her topsails shaking and broke out a signal flag. The first lieutenant, who was on the bridge, then called out to a young officer who was running up the ladder: "Mr. Langton, stand by for signals!" Every eye was fixed on the advancing ship except Archy's. The name, called out in the lieutenant's clear voice, had thrilled him, and when he looked up there was Langton, risen from the dead, as it were, standing in full sight and hearing of him--Langton, whom he had seen drowned before his eyes, as he thought. The shock and surprise of it, in his weak state, stunned Archy. His brain reeled, he instinctively threw out his arms to keep from falling over, and for a few minutes lay, rather than sat, on the step of the companion-way, only half conscious of his surroundings. But joy is exhilarating, and suddenly a great wave of life and happiness seemed to flow upon him. Not only was he deeply attached to Langton, but the joy that would be given to so many persons--to Langton's heartbroken mother and sisters, to Lord Bellingham, to Colonel Baskerville--when they knew that he was alive, was like the breath of life. After the first few moments Archy became preternaturally alert to what was going on. The two ships moving slowly, all the signals of the new-comer could be easily read, and in the perfect silence, the wind being in the right direction, every word that Langton uttered as he spoke to the Admiral and captain could be heard. "The garrison at Gibraltar is in a very critical state. The Spaniards have besieged it hotly since the 12th of September. The Rock is impregnable, but the garrison is near starvation. It has heard of the relief on the way, but if it does not come soon it will be too late." The stranger then signalled "Good-bye," filled her sails, and proceeded on her way. On board the _Royal George_ the painful impression made by the news they had just heard was obvious. The officers collected in groups about the quarter-deck, while forward the men talked over what they had seen, as several of them could make a shift to read the signals. In a few moments Langton came stepping briskly and gracefully along the deck amidships. As he approached Archy rose to his feet and steadied himself. When they were not more than a yard apart their eyes met. They stood staring at each other for a full minute, and then Archy--the gay, the debonair, the impetuous--was the first to show weakness. He trembled like a girl, and when Langton put both hands on his shoulders he almost had to hold Archy up. "I thought you were drowned!" gasped Archy. "So I thought myself, and a great many other persons too. But you--you are as white as a sheet; and where is your hair? and how, in Heaven's name, came you on the _Royal George_?" "I am the fellow that was carried off by the press-gang. No one knew my name until an hour or two ago. I have many things to tell you--things that will surprise you. But do you tell me first how you came to life, for I swear I saw you dead." "I was very near it when I came to myself, thrown high and dry on the rocks where the poor _Seahorse_ went to pieces. Some fishermen in the tunny fisheries found me, and I was a month between life and death in a hut near those very rocks, with a Spanish doctor who spoke no English or French, and I spoke no Spanish. I suppose, as Dr. MacBean would say, if it were possible to kill a midshipman by ordinary means I should not be here now; but I escaped with my life, in spite of the doctor. It is a long story how I got to Barcelona and from thence to England; and within a week from the time I landed at Plymouth I was ordered to this ship. As there is fighting before us, I could not ask for leave, even to see my dear mother; but I wrote her, and I hope she knows by this time that I am still alive to love her and plague her." "Can you come below with me? I have something important to tell you." "My watch is up, but I must go below on an errand. I am as anxious to hear as you are to tell. I will be with you in five minutes." And Langton ran below, leaving Archy almost doubting whether, after all, he had really seen his friend in the flesh. CHAPTER VII Archy went below, and in a few minutes Langton bounded into the little cabin. Archy, who was of a demonstrative nature, seized him and hugged him hard, and Langton seemed equally as overjoyed to see him. "Langton," were Archy's first words, "do you know who you are?" Langton looked at him keenly instead of replying. He thought perhaps Dr. MacBean had let his patient out of bed too soon. "I say," said Archy, earnestly, "do you know that you are my first cousin?" Langton was sure then that Archy's brain was still unsettled by the clip over the ear he had got. "Yes, yes, I know it," he answered, soothingly; "it's all right. Don't vex yourself about it, though." "But, Langton, I know that you are Lord Bellingham's grandson," cried Archy. A deep flush overspread Langton's handsome face. "I know it, too; but he drove my mother out of his house for marrying my father--an honorable soldier, an honest gentleman, and a better man than Lord Bellingham." "I believe you." "And as he treated my mother so ill and insulted my father, I have no desire for the world to know that I am his grandson." "But he did the same by my father and mother. My father was his only son, and he went to America, and that is how I came to be an American." "I did not know that. My mother told me she had an only brother; that he had left England, and had given up all communication with his family. It is true that when I heard your name--Baskerville--I remembered that it had been my mother's name; but as you never spoke of any English relatives, I was no prophet to discover that we were first cousins. Why," continued Langton, saying what everybody else did, "you are the heir!" "No, I am not. You are much more likely to be master of Bellingham than I. Do you suppose Lord Bellingham would ever make an American his heir? Oh, you don't know him. But you ought to know our uncle, Colonel Baskerville--glorious old chap. Did you never hear of him?" "Yes, but he was in India; and you forget that I left home when I was eleven years old, and I did not much care for family histories then. Why, however, did you never mention to me that Lord Bellingham was your grandfather?" "Because my commodore, the great Paul Jones, advised me that the less I said about it the better as long as I was in the American Navy; and he warned me if I were captured at any time that it might go the harder with me if it was known that I was of an English family. The day I left the _Seahorse_, when I went into the cabin to say good-bye to Captain Lockyer, and get his letter to Admiral Kempenfelt, he had an open 'Peerage and Baronetage' before him. He asked me one or two questions about my father's and mother's names, and then quietly wrote, before my face, that I was Lord Bellingham's grandson. Foolishly enough, I thought when I got to England that my grandfather might help me to get exchanged. But Commodore Jones was right--it went the harder with me on that account, and I don't propose to trust myself shortly within reach of the Admiralty. I shall take my chances at Gibraltar." "You always were, and always will be, a fellow for adventure. Now, tell me all that has befallen you--and, by George! how comical you look without any hair!" Archy plunged into his story. He told it with fire and energy. Langton listened, deeply interested, and only interrupted the recital occasionally by gusts of laughter when Archy told of some of the peculiarly odd circumstances that had happened to him. Then Langton told his story. There was nothing to laugh at in that; it was only a modest history of his sufferings since they had parted, not the least of which was the cruel disappointment of leaving England without seeing his mother and sisters. "There is not much money at home to spare," he said; "so, besides that I could not ask for leave when ordered for active service, I thought I could benefit my mother most by going where there was likely to be prize-money. And that gave me heart to come cheerfully--as I had to come anyhow. By the way, do you know we have a royal prince on board--Prince William Henry, second son of your friend King George III., otherwise known in the mess as Billy. He is a tolerably good sort of a chap, not very bright, but takes what comes, along with the rest of us, like a true-born Briton. You will see him at the mess." "If I go to the mess. But, look you, Langton, I do not budge to the mess unless I am invited in due form, just as you invite a French midshipman. As Commodore Jones said of Admiral de la Motte Piquet, 'I can show a commission as respectable as any the French Admiral can produce'; and so can I." "I will see to it that your high mightiness is invited in form. But let me ask you--how is it that you Americans, who preach liberty and equality and republican simplicity, and all that sort of thing, are invariably haughty and punctilious to the last degree?" "Only with benighted Europeans, my dear Langton. With each other we are like the Spanish grandees, who, I have heard, call each other Nick and Jack and Rob--or their Spanish equivalents--and are all ease and familiarity among themselves. But when they meet another less great than themselves, they are careful to give him all his names and honors and titles." Langton went off laughing at this, and left Archy congratulating himself on having given a clinching reason, until he recalled Colonel Baskerville's remark, that to have the best of it at repartee was by no means to have the best of it in reason and common-sense. Dear old chap! Archy meant, the very next day, to write him a long letter, telling him the events of every moment since they parted. Presently a note was brought in, addressed to Midshipman Baskerville, late of the continental ship _Bon Homme Richard_. It was an invitation to be the guest of the midshipmen's mess. Archy examined it carefully and critically. Yes, it was in due form, although neither the writing, the spelling, nor the grammar was above reproach. He accepted the invitation, and signed his name and rank in a large, bold hand, and was glad enough to do so. Before supper was ready Archy went on deck again. Lounging on the rail was a little midshipman who, Archy speedily discovered, was the scion of royalty, Prince William. A more harmless, quiet, common-place reefer he had never seen. The twilight was fast melting into night, and Archy was watching with interest the movements of the fleet and convoy, larger than anything of the kind he had ever seen before, when the ship's bell clanged out suddenly for "Fire!" Archy suspected that it was merely a fire-drill, and so evidently thought Prince William, for, rousing himself and seeing Admiral Digby near him unconcernedly studying the stars through his glass, the young Prince walked leisurely to his station, and was the last midshipman to take his place at the head of his division. The Admiral's eyes flashed--that was not the sort of discipline he proposed to allow. He glanced up at the bridge, where stood Captain Fulke; but the captain either did not see the young Prince's dilatoriness or else he did not choose to see it. Archy watched with interest what the Admiral would do. As soon as the drill was over and the men had left their quarters, the Prince passed close by the Admiral, who spoke sharply to him. "Your Royal Highness will remember that this is his Majesty's ship _Royal George_, and not a hayfield at harvest time. Masthead, sir." Prince William, whose rosy face instantly grew a picture of woe, nevertheless made his way aloft with much greater alacrity than he had made his station. The men grinned slyly at each other, and a midshipman behind the Admiral made a motion as if to pat him on the back. Archy opened his eyes wide--this was discipline, indeed. Presently the Admiral passed near him. Archy saluted him respectfully, and hoped the Admiral would speak to him, and was not disappointed. "I hear that you and young Langton have found yourselves to be first cousins, Mr. Baskerville," he said. "Yes, sir; and the best of friends we were from the day we met." "You have had considerable experience as a prisoner on British ships, eh? First, on the _Seahorse_, then on the _Thunderer_, and now on the _Royal George_." "I have always been well treated, sir. That is, if I wasn't well treated in the beginning, I was in the end." "That speaks well for you, sir. It is sometimes difficult to get our young officers to treat Americans with respect; but I, among others--notably Admiral Keppel--have always insisted that they be accorded all the consideration of prisoners of war, even before the late formal agreement was made." "I, for one, will remember it with gratitude, sir. But, may I say to you, sir, that since our conversation this afternoon I have been reflecting upon my circumstances, and I think my chances of exchange will be better at Gibraltar than if I were to be returned to England, as you kindly offered. No doubt the Spaniards will soon raise the siege, and then I can easily get to France on my parole." "No doubt--no doubt--the Spaniards must soon give it up, and you would probably be nearer your object." The Spaniards were never farther from giving it up than at the very moment these words were uttered. As the Admiral walked on, Archy was left alone. He made no move towards speaking to the number of officers that he saw standing or walking about; but Admiral Digby's example and well-known wishes were not lost on them, and presently two or three came up civilly enough and talked with him, and then it was suppertime, and Langton coming after him, the two went below to those regions, in the depths of the ship, which were thought good enough for the midshipmen. Archy was politely received, though not with the cordiality that would have been extended to a French midshipman. But Langton was a prime favorite in the mess, and the story of his connection with Archy, and their identical relationship to Lord Bellingham, had spread over the ship like wildfire. Therefore, the temperature of Archy's reception was sensibly raised when Langton announced: "Gentlemen, Mr. Baskerville is my cousin, and we were chums before we knew we were cousins. Mr. Baskerville is heir to a peerage if he wants it, but he swears he had rather be an American, which at least shows that he has a spirit of his own. So, I say, pity it is that all such are not Englishmen." "Agreed," piped up a very small midshipman, which caused a roar of laughter that covered the youngster with confusion. Archy observed that Prince William was not at the table, and some one asking what had become of him, one of the older midshipmen said: "Poor devil! When my relief reported I managed to bring in a remark to the first lieutenant about Billy, but the hint was not taken, so I fancy he is still in the cross-trees." Just then, however, Billy walked in. He was greeted with a chorus of jeers and cheers, with inquiries how was it aloft, and was he going to tell his father, and did he intend, in the event he came to the throne, to make Admiral Digby a peer, under the title of Lord Masthead, and other remarks of a facetious nature. Billy took all this with perfect good-nature, and called for boiled beef and potatoes, but grew decidedly sulky when he heard there was no pudding. Archy laughed as much as anybody at the chaff going on, and, as he had a peculiarly rich and ringing laugh, it attracted Billy's attention, who, without minding the banter of his comrades, seemed to feel himself deeply injured by the amusement he afforded the young American. He growled out something, of which the only distinct words were "American traitors and rebels." There was a dead silence, and Archy felt that upon his conduct at that very moment depended the opinion of every person in the ship. He looked the Prince squarely in the eye, and said, quietly: "Perhaps you do not know that I am an American, and late midshipman on the continental ship _Bon Homme Richard_." [Illustration: "'PERHAPS YOU DO NOT KNOW THAT I AM AN AMERICAN'"] "Yes, I know it, and damned if I care," was his Royal Highness's reply to this. The silence was continued. Langton, without speaking a word, smiled slightly. He knew that a firm bearing, and that alone, would establish Archy's position in the mess, and, having considerable knowledge of that young gentleman, he had no doubt of the attitude he would take. "I might, if I chose, report you to the Admiral for insulting a prisoner of war," said Archy, in his most nonchalant manner, "but reporting is considered a deuced ungentleman-like thing in our service. So I will give you a drubbing, if you will fight me, as soon as I am able. I am just out of the sick-bay." "Oh, Lord!" cried Billy, "I'll fight you with all the pleasure in life, but as for the Admiral--bad luck to him--he will skin me, sure, if he finds out what I said." "Don't be afraid," answered Archy, "and take a few boxing-lessons if you can; it will not save you a drubbing, but it will be more sport to the by-standers." "Mr. What's-your-name," said Billy, advancing and holding out his hand, "you are a gentleman, and I say so, and I shall be happy to give you satisfaction whenever you want it." At which, the British sense of fair-play being touched, the reefers roared out a cheer. Billy stood, blinking and smiling, while Archy assumed the air of a modest hero. Great interest was aroused in the steerage by this prospective battle of the giants. Archy, who regained his health with a bound, was extremely anxious to force events, but Langton, who was his backer, would not hear of it; he meant his client to be in full fettle when he tackled the scion of royalty. Meanwhile, Archy had no fault whatever to find with his treatment in the mess, and Billy proved himself to be one of the kindest-hearted and most generous and unassuming creatures in the world, in spite of being rather dull and foolish. At last, one morning, at the mess-table, after an unusually jolly supper the night before, when Billy and Archy had chummed together after the most approved fashion among midshipmen, Billy remarked, sagely: "I've been thinking, Baskerville, what is the use of our fighting? I hate fighting. I always get the worst of it. But I can do it, you know." "Of course. So can I. You are as game a fellow as I ever saw--and the object of fighting among gentlemen is to prove they are game. If the mess says so, let us consider it off." "Why not?" replied Billy, with a grin, looking around. "They know I can fight--I have fought 'em; but there ain't any use in fighting unless one is obliged to." "Not a bit," said Langton. "So, if you please, I shall be happy to consult with your friend as to the possibility of coming to an honorable arrangement." "Good!" was Billy's remark; "and let me tell you, it looks to me"--here Billy cocked his eye with great knowingness--"as if we will have some fighting to do with powder and ball before long. The Admiral has not had the ships kept cleared for action ever since we began to approach Cape St. Vincent for nothing." And then there was heard resounding through the great ship the boatswain's pipe calling all hands on deck, and a voice was heard shouting in the gangway: "The Spanish fleet is sighted!" CHAPTER VIII Archy ran on deck as fast as his legs could carry him, and the sight that met his gaze was both splendid and terrible. They were off Cape St. Vincent, and the weather had been somewhat thick all the morning; but, a little while before, the sun suddenly blazed out, showing them Admiral de Langara's fleet of nine ships of the line and two frigates, not more than three miles off. A smart breeze was blowing, and the Spaniards, who seemed to have known first of their own danger, were under press of sail trying to weather the headland before they would be cut off by Admiral Rodney's fleet of nineteen sail of the line and four frigates. The wind was carrying the British fleet so fast towards the Spaniards that the signal for the formation of the line of battle was already shown from Admiral Rodney's ship, while the convoy kept together in the rear. Admiral Rodney had no fool to play with in Admiral de Langara, who, although prepared to fight if compelled to, justly declined the unequal combat as long as he could. In Archy's brief experience of naval warfare he had never seen the manoeuvres of a great fleet, and he watched with breathless interest the steadiness and precision with which the British fleet spread out in a great semicircle, with the fast frigates at either end of the line, and the convoy secure behind them. The ships were already cleared for action, and a single tap of the drum was all that was necessary to call the men to quarters. There was no slowness in Prince William's response this time. He was at his station among the first, and if he had a wholesome awe of Admiral Digby, he showed a manly indifference to the Spaniards. Admiral de Langara had the weather-gage at first, and was able to keep it for over two hours; and in that time the Spaniards were slowly but steadily creeping away from their enemies. Admiral Rodney maintained his line of battle, and showed a perfect willingness to fight, with an unknown and frightfully dangerous shore under his lee. But the wind increasing every moment, the line began to straggle, in the effort to claw off shore. Archy Baskerville, a deeply interested observer, managed to establish himself just aft the bridge, upon which stood Admiral Digby, with Captain Fulke and the first lieutenant. Archy watched Admiral Digby, alert and sailor-like, as he paced up and down, keeping his eye on Admiral Rodney's ship, from which the signal for the line of battle flew steadily. Langton presently passed Archy and whispered to him: "Watch the old man. He is in a boiling rage. This is the fastest ship of the line in the fleet, and if the signal for chasing were given he'd be alongside one of those big three-deckers in half an hour. But here he is, under easy sail, to keep up with the slow coaches. No wonder he is in a stew." And the Admiral proved it by dashing his glass down angrily after a prolonged stare at Admiral Rodney's signal. The men seemed to understand this well enough, and when the wind continued to rise, and they were obliged to shorten sail as much as they dared, they gave a loud groan when the order was shouted out. The wind seemed to blow from all points of the compass at once, while the sky became black and lowering. The Spanish flag-ship, the _Phoenix_, was falling behind a little, and as the rocky promontory of the Cape loomed nearer, the chances of this ship weathering seemed less than that of the rest of the fleet. Her great draught forced her to keep well out from the rocky shore, and she lay almost in the path of the _Royal George_, not more than two miles to windward. Archy, watching Admiral Rodney's ship, saw by the dull and clouded light a change of signals, and above him, on the bridge, it was greeted by something like a shout of joy from Admiral Digby. "We can carry all hard sail now, captain; there is the signal for chasing!" cried the Admiral to his captain; and, as if by magic, the sailors sprang into the rigging, and, with a rousing cheer, everything that would draw was shaken out, and the _Royal George_, like a horse under the spur, dashed forward, ahead of every ship in the fleet. Within half an hour she was near enough to the Spanish Admiral to fire her quarter-guns, to which the Spaniard replied promptly; but in both cases the shot fell short. "Never mind, my lads!" called out the Admiral, jovially, "we must exchange compliments before we get down to work. There's no real pleasure to be had until we are alongside!" The _Phoenix_, having a choice of dangers, and seeing the _Royal George_ gaining upon her, then quickly changed her course and stood inshore, where the coast was fringed with mountains of rocks, as if some giant hand had strewed them there for the destruction of ships. The _Royal George_ did not hesitate to follow her, though, and tacked inshore too. From the manoeuvres of the Spaniard, it was plain that she had an experienced pilot aboard; but on the _Royal George_ they had no better assurance of water under the keel than could be found by continually heaving the lead. From the rest of the fleet a smart cannonade was now begun as the faster ships got within range of the Spaniards, who, caught and surrounded by superior force, yet prepared to defend themselves gallantly. The short afternoon was now closing in, and the increasing wind and the wraith of storm-clouds driving across the pale and wintry sky showed all those brave men that they would be called upon to combat waves and tempest as well as shot and shell. The _Phoenix_, finding it impossible to weather the headland in the face of her enemies, prepared to fight in a large bay, which, dangerous enough in all weathers, yet gave her enough sea-room to save her if skilfully handled. The _Royal George_, undaunted by the hazardous circumstances in which she was forced to attack, followed her antagonist. At the same moment each ship thundered out her broadside; but the wind and water rose so high that most of the shots were ineffective, although fired at short range. The howling of the wind and the dashing of the waves on the shore were soon drowned in the roar of the batteries on thirty-four fighting ships, for the engagement soon became general. As night came on neither storm nor battle abated. The clouds poured forth rain and wind as they were swept across the wild night sky. The only light visible was the flash of the guns and the red glare of the battle lanterns. The Spanish were outnumbered more than two to one; but they were favored by the storm, and stood stubbornly to their guns. On board the _Royal George_ the slaughter began to be serious. The ship required the most constant manoeuvring to keep her off the rocks, and there was enough to do, and more, even for the enormous crew of a thousand men she carried. Archy was not one to sit idly by and watch when he could help, and when the bearers to carry the wounded below began to be few, he ran forward, and, taking one end of a stretcher, did yeoman's service in helping. About midnight, having a few minutes to himself, it occurred to him that he was hungry, and probably others were who could not leave their stations. He went below, and, getting some bread and cheese from one of the stewards, returned to the deck and distributed his provisions liberally among the midshipmen, not forgetting Prince William. "Thank'ee," said Billy, gratefully. "I wish I was in your place--nothing to do but to watch how the Spaniards take a beating, instead of having to fight this beastly battery. And I don't like fighting--that I don't." Archy passed on, laughing. There was no doubt that Billy possessed the courage of all the Brunswickers, and was exactly the same Billy under fire as sitting around the mess-table. Langton was near by, and Archy was troubled to see how pale and exhausted he looked. His former terrible experience on the Spanish coast had not been without its effects, and Archy saw that nothing but Langton's determined will and anxiety to do his duty kept him from dropping at his station. Just as the last piece of cheese and last slice of bread were about to be disposed of, Archy saw the Admiral crossing the deck towards him. He held out the bread and cheese, and the Admiral seized it with enthusiasm. "Thank you, Mr. Baskerville. Those rascally stewards seem to have forgotten us up here. We'll give them a keelhauling for it as soon as the wind lulls! Hanged if I don't think it deuced unhandsome of Admiral de Langara to make us fight in this awkward cubby-hole of a place! Did you ever see anything like this, sir?" "I was on the _Bon Homme Richard_, sir, when she took the _Serapis_. We had good enough weather, but we were locked together two hours, and at it hammer and tongs all the while." "Um--ah--hum--I say, lieutenant, I think number four in the starboard battery is doing remarkably fine work. Mr. Langton in command? I shall remember him when we are through with these persistent Spanish gentlemen." The fire from several of the Spanish ships slackened as the night wore on, and soon after midnight the _Monarca_, a seventy-gun ship, blew up with a terrific crash that drowned both tempest and battle. Her topmasts and sails flew skyward, and the wreckage from her great masts and spars was tossed like corks over the black waters. In the red illumination from sea and sky the bodies of men, dead and living, were seen floating, and the cries of the unfortunates were responded to by several of the British ships lowering their boats in the teeth of the gale, and pulling about in the line of fire, picking up the half-drowned sailors. One by one the Spanish ships were disabled and forced to strike their colors, but the flag-ship still fought on. As a gray and pallid dawn broke over the stormy ocean and the drenched and forbidding-looking land, it was seen from the _Royal George_ that her antagonist was in desperate straits. Her main-mast had gone by the board, carrying the mizzen-mast with it, and both cumbered the deck and hung over the side, entangled in a mass of canvas and rigging. Many of her guns had burst, and her decks were strewed with the dead and wounded. The Spanish Admiral, however, was still on the bridge, but the two officers with him were evidently juniors, showing that he had lost his captain and first lieutenant. The fire of the _Phoenix_ was gradually lessening, and about daybreak it entirely ceased, and the Spanish colors were hauled down amid loud cheering from the _Royal George_. The Spaniards had made a good fight, and the _Royal George_, although not so badly crippled as her opponent, was much cut up aloft, and had several shot-holes in her hull. A boat was immediately lowered, and Prince William was given the command of her, both as a compliment to himself and to the brave Admiral de Langara, who would be escorted on board the _Royal George_ by a king's son. It was uncertain whether the Spaniard would need boats to bring the prisoners aboard, or whether his own boats were in condition to do so. Six of the Spanish ships of the line had struck, one had blown up, while in the distance the remaining two were making off under a press of sail. In Admiral Rodney's fleet the losses in men were not very great, but the terrible disadvantage at which he had fought, and the bad weather, left them still battling for their lives on an unknown and dangerous coast, with six damaged ships to take care of, and thousands of prisoners. No ship had suffered more than the _Royal George_, and the perilous situation in which she was placed became more evident by daylight. The wind was blowing directly on shore, and it became necessary to put on all the sail the ship could stand in order to keep her from going on the rocks; but her masts and spars were so cut up that it seemed every moment as if they would all come down at once. Archy watched with anxiety as an effort was made to set the main-sail. He said to himself, out aloud: "The mast can never stand it." But the mast did stand it, although bending and quivering under the strain when the full force of the wind struck the sail, and the ship, gathering headway, moved a little farther off from the menacing shore, on which the roar of breakers could be distinctly heard. Prince William's boat was now approaching, and Archy could see the erect figure of the Spanish Admiral sitting in the stern-sheets. The boat came alongside, but poor Billy gave the order "Oars" too soon, and she drifted off just as the line was thrown to her. Instead of making another effort to bring her up to the lee gangway, Billy breasted along the side until he caught the stern-ladders, and was just about to pass the Spanish Admiral through the quarter-gallery when Admiral Digby, who was waiting with the captain at the gangway, with marines and side-boys to receive the Spaniard, bawled out: "Avast, there! What are you doing, sir?" Billy needed nothing more to convince him of his mistake, and he immediately made for the gangway. In a little while Admiral de Langara came over the side. As soon as the Spaniard's foot touched the quarter-deck, Admiral Digby advanced with uncovered head. The Spaniard also uncovered, and, making a low bow, was about to offer his sword. "No," said Admiral Digby, with much dignity, "I cannot take the sword of so brave a man. It will yet do great things for your country." De Langara's eyes filled with tears, as, in broken English, he said something of which few comprehended the words, but all understood the meaning. Poor Billy then came over the side, and Admiral Digby, to make sure that the Spanish Admiral knew that no slight was intended by bringing him to the forward gangway, said sternly to the unlucky scion of royalty: "How, sir! have you not yet learned to bring a boat alongside properly? I shall not forget this, and, when time serves, I will give you a lesson that you will remember." Admiral de Langara looked in amazement from the angry Admiral to the trembling midshipman. "No wonder," he remarked to Admiral Digby, "that the English rule the seas, when the son of the sovereign is made to submit to discipline as any other midshipman in the ship." Admiral Digby then escorted the Spanish Admiral to his cabin. There was work for everybody to do, and Archy soon found himself pressed into service again. Powder was precious, and it was necessary to save what had already been hoisted on deck, and to get the fuses and cartridges and everything else in place. The wind increasing in violence prevented the transfer of the prisoners, and it was with great difficulty that a prize-crew was thrown aboard of the _Phoenix_. And then, in spite of the vast concussion of hundreds of guns, which usually deadens the wind, it became a hurricane. For two days and nights the _Royal George_ battled for her life, and every time the _Phoenix_ disappeared from view it was thought she had gone to the bottom. If they made sail, everything was blown from the bolt-ropes, while if they stripped the ship of her canvas she would seem to be rushing headlong to destruction. But at last they succeeded in bending sails that stood the terrific strain. The officers and crew nobly maintained the name of British seamen. Cool, courageous, skilful, never losing heart, they struggled on, in mortal danger every moment, and from the Admiral down to poor Billy the Prince every officer did his whole duty, as did every man. It was two days before they were in deep water again; but on the third day the morning broke in splendor, a golden sun shining down upon a sapphire sea. And the same afternoon the British fleet, with six great Spanish ships on which the Union Jack was hoisted over the Spanish colors, sailed past Europa Point, and the Rock of the Lion, from all its hundred guns, thundered out a welcome worthy of such mighty guests. CHAPTER IX On the 21st of June, 1779, had begun the fourteenth and last siege of Gibraltar. On the 12th of September the gates had been closed, and from that on never, in all the annals of war by land and sea, had there been such a struggle for the possession of a single spot of ground as for that mighty Rock. General Sir George Eliot, with a few more than five thousand men, had resisted for five months the assaults of an army three times as numerous, and a strong fleet, which proposed, by fighting and starving the British garrison, to reduce it. Already there had been three months of scarcity before September, and five months of famine since; but the spirit of the garrison was still unbroken, and when, on that brilliant morning, Rodney's fleet was discerned rounding Cabrita Point, the gaunt crowds of soldiers, officers, ladies, servants, Jews, and Genoese poured out upon the face of the Rock, wept and laughed and prayed and went wild with joy, as sufferers do when relief is in sight. For seven days they had alternated the agonies of despair with the transports of hope. They had heard that Admiral Rodney, with a convoy, was coming to their relief; but a little English brig which had made its way in brought news of Admiral de Langara's squadron, and the besieged people knew nothing of the numbers of the ships or the result of the battle that must follow. As day succeeded day, with no news of the fleet, they began to fear that it had been defeated--and that meant submission or starvation, and they had starved since September. Every hour of the night there were half-despairing creatures watching and waiting on Europa Point for the longed-for succor; and every morning had brought them nearer to despair, until, at last--at last--the fleet was coming, their white sails shining in the morning light, and bringing with them life itself to the brave men and dauntless women on the Rock. Never, in all his life, did Archy Baskerville forget that day when he first set foot on Gibraltar. The _Royal George_, her masts and spars braced and refitted, and her shot-holes plugged, could still leg it faster than most of the ships in the fleet, and led the second division. Her decks had been cleaned up and her injuries repaired as far as possible, and although she showed marks of her warfare with the Spaniards and the storm, yet was she ready at that moment to go into action if necessary. Next her came the _Phoenix_, larger than the _Royal George_, and clumsier, but a noble trophy; and beyond them were other great ships of the line, smart frigates, captured Spanish ships, and a fine convoy loaded with provisions for the famishing garrison. As they neared Europa Point they heard the shouts of joy from the people who swarmed to meet them. From the old convent on the hill, which was the Governor's residence, General Eliot, the commandant, was issuing with his staff. A band was playing "God Save the King," which was taken up by the ships in the fleet. Admiral Digby was on the bridge, waving his hat at General Eliot, who, with his hat in his hand, bent his gray, uncovered head as if returning thanks, while he walked towards the mole, where a shouting crowd of soldiers, civilians, women, and children were gathering. Nearly every one of the wounded officers was on deck, and so was Langton, who had not been wounded at all, but who was weak and ill beyond any of them. He had not fully recovered from his injuries in the shipwreck, before the battle off Cape St. Vincent, and after doing his duty like a hero he had completely collapsed. Nevertheless, with Archy's aid, he had crawled up on deck, and both of them watched, with shining eyes, the stirring and inspiring scene as the ships came to anchor. The _Royal George_ stood quite close in, and almost before the anchor kissed the ground the Admiral's barge put off and joined the crowd of boats containing officers that were making for the landings. They saw the people crowding around the officers, shaking hands, and even embracing them, while General Eliot stood silent and apparently overcome with emotion, as admirals, captains, and lieutenants grasped his hand and wrung it. Pretty soon a boat with provisions put off from the _Royal George_, for the necessities of the people were so great that they had to be supplied before the cargoes of the storeships could be broken. Archy, who always had to be in the thick of everything, basely deserted Langton as soon as the boats began putting off, and, going up to Captain Fulke, asked permission to go ashore. The young prisoner's conduct on board ship had made him to be highly popular, and Captain Fulke at once agreed. "Good-bye!" cried Archy to Langton. "Somebody will take care of you, I dare say," and skipped over the side. As the boat drew alongside the Rock the scene was thrilling. Before them towered the mighty Rock, with its grim batteries ready for defence, while just across the neck of land connecting it with the mainland, no more than a mile from the barrier gate, the Spaniards had erected two mighty lines of fortifications, from the Punta Mala on the bay of Gibraltar, across to the Sierra de Carbonera, or Queen of Spain's Chair. Two great forts were at either end of this line of fortifications--San Felipe, on the bay of Gibraltar, and Santa Barbara, on the eastern beach. San Felipe was faced by a frowning fort, almost as strong as the Spanish fort at the end of the Old Mole, while three strong batteries and the powerful defences of the Land Port defied the Spanish line of attack. In the golden afternoon light these grim and warlike features were singularly clear, the Spanish colors were in plain view, while the distant roll of the Spanish drums and the silver notes of the bugles were perfectly audible. On the mole the people seemed beside themselves with excitement--the rapture of relief, the anxiety for news from home, the story of sufferings half told, the pain, the joy, the pale mothers with the paler children, the officers and soldiers with uniforms hanging loose upon their famished bodies, the Jews and Genoese chattering and gesticulating wildly, and a few Moors and Arabs standing silent and stoical amid the tumult. One of these men--an Arab--Archy noticed the instant he stepped ashore, close to a group made up of General Sir George Eliot, Admiral Rodney, Admiral Digby, and some other officers of high rank. This man was of a bronze color, tall and well formed, with the full black eyes of the Arab tribesmen, and wore his white burnouse and his snowy turban with an imperial air. General Eliot, a soldierly but austere-looking man, spoke to him. "Come here, Musa." Musa advanced with perfect dignity, and bowed to the officers; each returned the salutation by lifting his hat. "This man, gentlemen, has been our only mode of communicating with the outside world for five months past. Through him we have communicated with our consuls on the African side, and they have returned us, by him, the only news we have had of anything outside this Rock in all that time. The Spaniards have found out that Musa is clever enough to elude their smartest cruisers, and have repeatedly offered him money to betray us, but he has steadily refused." "This shall be known in England, Musa," said Sir George Rodney. Musa slightly inclined his head, and, without the faintest change of countenance, withdrew, and walked off by himself. General Eliot then turned to a small, slight man, in naval uniform, and said, "I have had as much assistance from Captain Curtis as from any officer in the garrison, and Mrs. Curtis fired the first shot of the defence on the 12th of September, the order for firing being, 'Britons, strike home!'" Archy glanced around, and saw by Captain Curtis's side a pretty, pale-faced woman, holding a little girl of ten years by the hand, and by her blushes and the child's smiles he knew that the lady was Mrs. Curtis. But the next moment the child said something that went to his heart. "Mamma," she whispered, "when do the sailors mean to give us something to eat? I am so hungry!" This was more than Archy could stand, and, making for the boat, he very unceremoniously seized a bag of potatoes and was walking off with it, when an officer, superintending the unloading, called out to him, sternly: "Hold, there! What are you doing with that bag of potatoes?" "Taking it to feed a half-starved woman and her little girl." "Put it down. The provisions must be distributed according to orders." "Unluckily, this case can't wait," answered Archy, making a dash towards the group where Admiral Digby stood. "Sir," said he, "I want these potatoes for Mrs. Curtis and her little girl, and--" "By George! you shall have them," whispered the Admiral. "Run, sir, for your life. There is Mrs. Curtis going up the path towards Europa Point, and as soon as you have delivered them, come back to me and I will reprimand you." Archy waited for no further orders, and, laughing, started as fast as his legs could carry him after Mrs. Curtis. In a minute or two he reached her, toiling painfully up the steep path, Dolly, white and faint, clinging to her hand. "Madam," said Archy, taking off his hat, "I believe I have the honor of addressing Mrs. Curtis. Admiral Digby gave me permission to bring this bag of potatoes to your house." "I have no house any more," replied Mrs. Curtis, with a faint smile. "The officers' families have long since abandoned the houses in the town, on account of the bombardment. My husband has had a rude shelter put up for us under the rocks at Europa Point, and there my child and I live, with a faithful old servant of my husband's. I thank you more than I can express for your kindness in bringing us something to eat--I knew you had a kind heart as soon as I saw your bright face. Tell me who you are." "I am Midshipman Baskerville, late of the continental ship _Bon Homme Richard_, a prisoner on parole, and entirely at your service, madam--and this young lady's," added Archy, who dearly loved children, looking at Dolly. Dolly smiled at him, and when he offered her his hand to help her up the steep incline she gave it him with the sweetest confidence. Archy had never practised carrying bags of potatoes on his back, and was considerably out of breath when they reached the shelter that stood for a house for Mrs. Curtis. [Illustration: "ARCHY MAKES AWAY WITH A BAG OF POTATOES FOR MRS. CURTIS"] There was an open space between two huge bowlders which had been roofed over, and in it were spread some rugs, two mattresses for sleeping, cushions and blankets, and in a large chest were a few necessaries for living, and clothing. This was the home of an officer's wife and child. But some one was there before them--a tall, well-made, hard-featured, elderly man, in the uniform of a sergeant of marines, who had promptly kindled a little fire, and immediately set to work briskly peeling the potatoes. "This is Judkins," said Mrs. Curtis to Archy. "He was formerly my husband's orderly, but was retired on account of wounds; but he has become _our_ orderly, and is cook, butler, nurse-maid, and lady's-maid to Dolly and me. We are in his charge while Captain Curtis is on his ship, the _Enterprise_." Judkins had been hungry for eight months; but he did not abate a jot or tittle of his dignity on that account, and stopped peeling the potatoes, and stood bolt-upright at "attention" while Archy courteously saluted him. While they were still standing there, Archy quite fascinated with the sweetness of Mrs. Curtis and Dolly, Captain Curtis arrived. Mrs. Curtis at once introduced Archy, and told of his action in such a way as to make it seem more than it really was. "Kindness to my wife and child is a very good recommendation to me, Mr. Baskerville," said Captain Curtis, cordially, "and I would like to know by what scheme you got the potatoes first." "Nabbed them, sir," replied Archy, with a grin; "and I am now going back to be hauled over the coals by Admiral Digby, who told me to run away with the bag, and then come back and be reprimanded. Good-bye! good-bye!" and he was off. When he again reached the mole the scene was even more animated. There was a procession of boats passing back and forth from the ships to the mole, and provisions were being unloaded with extraordinary rapidity under the eyes of the officers. All were working hard, and none harder than Prince William, who, with a red face and a dusty jacket, was doing his duty among the other midshipmen just as if his father did not sit upon the greatest throne on earth. Admiral Digby, who was everywhere at once, noticed Billy's energy and industry, and spoke some words of praise to him, at which the young Prince's honest, simple face glowed with pleasure. Many of the poorer persons hung about, begging for food before it could be taken to their houses. Admiral Digby, his hands behind his back, was walking up and down the mole, watching with pity the efforts of the starving people to carry away what was given them. He was looking at an old woman who had been given a basketful, but was tottering along under it, almost falling under her load, when Archy appeared before him. "I have come for my reprimand about the potatoes, sir," he said, respectfully. "That's right, sir," chirped the Admiral; "never neglect reporting yourself when a reprimand is expected, or you may have worse luck. You cribbed a bag of potatoes, didn't you? Very reprehensible--very reprehensible, indeed. You should be severely reprimanded. Stealing potatoes is clearly against the articles of war. Consider yourself reprimanded--severely reprimanded, sir; and if you have a chance of stealing a few more for that old woman yonder, don't hesitate, but do it, and come and be reprimanded again. You might help her and some others of these poor, weak, helpless creatures to carry away what is given them--you have a fine pair of shoulders, and legs like a London chairman--so be off with you--and, stay--eh--I say--dine in the great cabin with me to-night-- Gone, with a duck of his head for answer to an admiral's invitation! Presumptuous young dog! But a fine fellow, if ever I saw one." Nevertheless, Archy was not one to scorn an invitation to a better dinner than he was likely to get in the usual course of events, and at dinner-time he presented himself in the Admiral's cabin. He thought himself especially fortunate in having a chance to talk about his scheme of staying at Gibraltar, and was delighted when Admiral Digby said, "I have mentioned to General Eliot your preference for remaining here, and as the place is plentifully supplied, and will be kept supplied in the future, there is no objection made to it. General Eliot was most considerate, and readily granted my request." "Thank you, sir," replied Archy, "and to-morrow morning I will call and pay my respects to General Eliot, and express my thanks. May I ask, sir, if you have not told the General that I am Lord Bellingham's grandson, that you will not? I--" "Too late, sir. I felt obliged to tell General Eliot every particular concerning you. I fear," said the Admiral, looking sharply at Archy, "that you have imbibed some false and demagogic notions about rank. Surely, it is of solid advantage to you to be known as the grandson of a peer." Admiral Digby, without the slightest cringing towards the great, yet respected rank, as it was everywhere respected in the eighteenth century; and he could not but hope that his kind attentions towards Archy might result in bringing back this strayed lamb to the fold of the British peerage. "In some ways, sir, it is to my advantage," said Archy, "but in others it is not. I am sure if I had been the grandson of John Smith, or Jones, or Brown, that I should have been exchanged long ago, and I cannot help thinking that my grandfather is using his influence against me at the Admiralty. Commodore Jones warned me to keep quiet about Lord Bellingham." "Oh--Commodore Jones! Recollect, you engaged to give me some account of him. He is a man of remarkable character and achievements." Archy plunged into a history which was one long eulogy of Paul Jones. Admiral Digby smiled at his enthusiasm; but he was too good a judge of human nature to disesteem, or even undervalue, enthusiasm. Archy gave him every particular concerning the fight between the _Bon Homme Richard_ and the _Serapis_, and their perils at the Texel. "Where I was bagged, sir," he said, regretfully, "by my own carelessness and rashness, after having been repeatedly warned by Commodore Jones; and here I have been a prisoner of war for more than three months in consequence!" "Very sad--very sad!" condoled the Admiral, all the time thinking that it might turn out the luckiest thing in the world for Archy. "And, may I ask, Mr. Baskerville, to return to Lord Bellingham, how you and he--coincided?" Archy rubbed his ruddy cheek thoughtfully before answering: "Better, sir, I believe, than most people coincide with my grandfather. He seems to consider himself a much injured person, although I never could see where his injuries lay. As I do not want the title, and cannot have the estates, I believe my cousin, Mr. Langton, will be his heir. My grandfather was terribly cut up when he heard the false report of Langton's death." "And is it possible, Mr. Baskerville, that you can regard such splendid prospects as might be yours with indifference?" "I do not know, sir, whether that word describes my feelings. I regard those splendid prospects as impossible for me. My grandfather, no doubt, desires me to give up my country, but I cannot; nor will I give up my profession. It is the height of my ambition to have a command in the American Navy." "You speak as if you were quite sure that the revolted colonies will be successful. Now, while the present war is undoubtedly very unpopular in Great Britain and in Parliament--the whole force of such gigantic men as Mr. Burke and Mr. Fox is thrown against it--yet the fight will be continued, and, for my part, I think the issue of the struggle more than doubtful for the colonies." "Then, sir, every American must, as a point of honor, maintain his nationality when his country's cause seems most in peril. We cannot admit that we are whipped before our adversaries think so." "True enough, Mr. Baskerville. I see in you the spirit of determination common among your countrymen, which, to my mind, is the one thing that makes it a question whether we can reduce the colonies or not. Oh, that we should be compelled to fight such men! But we must do our duty. I cannot approve of Admiral Keppel's course in declining the command of the fleet for North America because he did not believe in coercing the colonies. I desire to have them back, and, by George!" cried the Admiral, bringing his fist down with a thump that made the glasses ring again, "I am so deuced anxious to have them back that, if they won't come for the asking, I would hammer them with men and ships until they were driven back, begad!" CHAPTER X When Archy went below, after dining in the Admiral's cabin, he was distressed to find that Langton had grown worse instead of better during the day, and was in a high fever. As the night wore on it increased to delirium. His injuries in the shipwreck began to trouble him again, especially his three broken ribs, and the mere motion of the ship at anchor gave him poignant pain. Towards morning Dr. MacBean, who had watched him, with Archy, all night, said: "Mr. Langton must be taken ashore immediately, and there will be no more cruising for him for a good long time." Archy heard this with mixed pleasure and regret. He was truly distressed at Langton's sufferings. But the idea that he would have his friend's company at Gibraltar, for what he thought would be a short and rather interesting period, was undeniably pleasing to him. They got Langton ashore early that morning and established him in the old stone building which served for a hospital, and there Archy nursed him faithfully, but very awkwardly, for many days. Langton was desperately ill; and, although it was known that he would probably recover, it was out of the question that he should leave with the fleet, which was to sail the first fair wind after the 10th of February. Archy's sole recreation in those dreary days of watching Langton's sufferings, when the issue might be life or death, was a solitary evening walk up to Europa Point and back. He did not forget his new friends, the Curtises, and their kindness and sympathy were grateful to him. One of the first things Captain Curtis said to him was: "The Spanish lines are advancing so rapidly that I make no doubt they will soon get the range of the hospital, and if your friend has to be moved you could not do better than come up here. It is safe, and it is healthier, I think, than the spots lower down." Archy thanked him warmly, and immediately went to work to have a hut set up, like Mrs. Curtis's, and very close to it. He got some blankets and mattresses from the ship, and in a day or two he had a place to take Langton whenever the hospital shared the fate of most of the buildings in the lower town, and began to fall about their ears. On the morning of the 13th of February, the wind being fair, Admiral Rodney's fleet picked up their anchors, and, amid a roar of cheers and the thunder of guns, the ships took their way towards the open sea. The garrison, refreshed and encouraged, and with supplies for many months, yet with sorrow, saw them go; and as Archy, standing on the mole, caught sight of the _Royal George_ rounding Cabrita Point in her usual grand style and leading the fleet, as she always did, his heart gave a great thump of regret--vain as most regrets are. He had been a prisoner on her--he had not been a free man for many long months--but he had been kindly treated, he had made friends, and it seemed more natural to him, sailor that he was, to be afloat than ashore. But he had readily adopted the sanguine view of the officers of the fleet, and most of those of the garrison, that the siege was nearing an end; nor was this pleasing delusion shattered until sunset of the day that had seen the British fleet sail away. Just as the sun was sinking he left Langton in charge of a nurse and climbed to the top of Jacob's-ladder. When he found himself on the highest point of the Rock, he thought he had never seen a lovelier sight, except on that evening, four months before, when he had caught the first glimpse of Gibraltar from the deck of the _Seahorse_. Deeply blue and deliciously calm lay the Mediterranean, spread before him in the soft glow of evening. The little British squadron which was stationed at Gibraltar lay motionless at anchor, the work of the day done. From the batteries below him he could hear the faint commotion of relieving the guard, and the mellow notes of a single bugle floated up. Then the sunset gun boomed over the waters, and the salute was sounded on the ships; but the exquisite silence, the hour, the scene, the distance, made it all seem like the music of a dream. Archy was of a nature susceptible to these charms, and from impetuous actions and uproarious spirits he often fell into moments of soft and not unpleasing melancholy. He was thinking of the history of the Rock--the valor that had won it, the patriotic anguish of the Spaniards that another nation should possess it, the gallant lives laid down on either side in the effort to take it or to keep it--when he heard a step behind him, and Captain Curtis was standing near him. "Good-evening, Mr. Baskerville. I see we have the same taste in selecting this spot for an evening walk. Usually, I find it quite deserted at this time of day." "I find my only chance of air and exercise is at this time, when I can leave my friend and cousin, Mr. Langton, for an hour or two. He is better now than he has been, and I hope in a week or two I may be able to leave him and get through the Spanish lines, on my way to France." "Do you think the Spaniards will let you through?" "Of course," cried Archy, amazed and disconcerted at Captain Curtis's tone. "I hope so, for your sake, but I question it. You can undoubtedly get to the headquarters of the Spanish commander, Don Martin de Soltomayer, at any time you like, under a flag of truce; but I have very little expectation that they will let you through their lines--certainly not now, when the fortress has just been revictualled, and you would probably represent to the outside world that we are in no danger of starvation for a long time to come. It is the Spanish policy to make their people think that we are on the verge of surrender. Besides, they will at once suspect you to be a spy, and it takes a long time to remove suspicion from the Spanish mind. And what object have they in letting any one out of here? Not the smallest. So, Mr. Baskerville, I think that your anticipation of getting away, like that of some of our military and naval friends here and abroad, who believe the siege will shortly be raised, is a mistake. You are in for a good long term--that you may depend upon." Archy was staggered by this, and walked along in silence by Captain Curtis's side, wondering at his rash presumption that he could get out of Gibraltar as easily as he had got in. Suddenly he burst out: "What folly was mine! I should have remained with the fleet!" Archy's heart sank lower and lower as Captain Curtis continued: "I know the temper of the Spanish people, and they mean to take Gibraltar if it is in the power of mortal man. They will soon have the assistance of the French; and a French engineer is a very dangerous person to his enemies, I can tell you. The garrison is relieved at present--but I look for an attack by land and sea that will test our mettle. Luckily, we have a Governor who does not know the meaning of the word surrender. He set the example to the garrison of having his own horse killed and distributed for food, and has lived, for some time past, on a few ounces of rice a day, and the little fish we catch, that are no larger than sprats." Archy was silent with disappointment and consternation after this. At last he said, determinedly: "At all events, I shall do my best to get Don Martin de What's-his-name to let me out." "Come," said Captain Curtis, feeling sorry for him, "let us go up to my hut and see my wife and little girl. You are a prime favorite with them both already." As they neared the hut they heard the sound of singing--a man's barytone, full and rich, and a child's treble, shrill but sweet. "That is my little girl," said Captain Curtis, with a smile, "and my man Judkins. He carried Dolly in his arms when she was a baby, and, I believe, loves her better than anything on earth. Her first playthings were his cap and belts, and he is still her favorite playfellow. He has a fine voice, as you can tell, and has taught Dolly every song in the British army, but none of the navy songs; for Judkins was in the army before he was a marine." "I understand," replied Archy, laughing. "There is no love lost between sailors and marines." Presently they could distinguish the two companions--the old marine and the little girl--sitting together on a rock, Dolly wrapped up in a huge cloak of Judkins's, and both of them singing, at the top of their voices, the fine old song "The British Grenadiers." "Whene'er we are commanded to storm the palisades, Our leaders march with fuses and we with hand-grenades; We throw them from the glacis about the enemy's ears. Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers." Just then the singers became aware of their audience. Judkins stopped short in the midst of a "tow, row, row," and jumped as if he were shot, while Dolly ran and swung around her father's legs, and then turned her attention to Archy. "I haven't been hungry since you came," she said, "and Judkins and I can sing a great deal louder and better when we aren't hungry--can't we, Judkins?" "Yes, miss," replied Judkins, standing rigidly at "attention," and deeply embarrassed. Archy begged them to continue, and Dolly quite readily, and Judkins blushing very much, evidently enduring agonies of sheepishness, yet obeyed orders, and gave "The Lincolnshire Poacher," "The Dashing White Sergeant," and other famous songs of the British army. Nothing could exceed the kindness and sweetness of Mrs. Curtis towards Archy. In some way she at once divined that he was motherless, and his tenderness to Dolly showed that he had a good heart. As for Archy himself, in spite of his fondness for "seeing life" and his adventurous disposition, he felt all the sweetness and charm of domestic life, and was quite happy to be even a chance partaker in the home circle that was yet to be found in the rude shelter to which the Spanish cannonade had driven his new-found friends. He remained until it was time for Captain Curtis to return to his ship, and after a cordial invitation from Mrs. Curtis to visit them often, and an affectionate good-night from Dolly, Archy returned to his quarters at the hospital. He lay awake that night, troubled by what Captain Curtis had told him; but in the morning his irrepressible spirits reasserted themselves, and he began to think that, after all, he might get away. That day Langton was much better in health, but low in his mind over the departure of the fleet, and Archy very indiscreetly let out Captain Curtis's opinion as to the length of the siege. "Then we shall lose Gibraltar, I am afraid," said Langton, sadly. "What are you talking about?" cried Archy. "It takes a lot of beating to whip an Englishman--_we_ know it to our sorrow. But, nevertheless, we will soon chase all of your beggarly redcoats out of America; then you can turn your whole attention to the Don Spaniards; and then--Lord help 'em! And you will be going back to England and be adopted by Lord Bellingham in lieu of me, while I shall be captain of a smart little frigate under the American colors, and I'll call and see you at Bellingham Castle. Oh, great guns, what fun I'll have! You ought to know your venerable grandfather, my boy; you'll often wish, when you are rolling in splendor at Bellingham, that you were at Gibraltar living on rice and salt fish. Uncle Baskerville is a trump--as fine an old chap as I know, if he would but leave off his sermons to me about returning to my allegiance to my king and country, and taking my place as the prospective heir and head of the Baskerville family. But our grandfather--oh, ye gods!" Langton laughed feebly at this, and Archy, hauling a letter out of his pocket, said, "Here is a copy of the letter I sent by the fleet, and I shall send this copy by the first expedition to the African coast, in hopes that in one way or the other it may reach Bellingham Castle. This is to my grandfather." And Archy read with a great flourish: "'HONORED SIR,--I take the first opportunity of communicating with you and my uncle, after my singular disappearance from York, at the Assizes. The story of my adventures is briefly this: A press was organized at York, and I, happening to be in the tavern when it took place, got my head cracked, and knew no more until I found myself aboard of His Majesty's ship of the line _Royal George_, in Biscay Bay, bound for Gibraltar, in Rodney's fleet, with a convoy for the relief of the garrison. And here I am, sir, on Gibraltar Rock, preferring to take my chances of getting to France from here than with the fleet, which goes to the Leeward Islands. This place has been hotly besieged, and some think we have not seen the worst of it yet; but my expectation is that Great Britain will shortly abandon her hopeless attempt to coerce the independent American colonies--' "The footstool will fly, and everything else handy, when the old gentleman reads this paragraph," interrupted Archy in his reading. --"'and then the fortress will be relieved. But no one dreams of surrender, and all reports of that kind reaching England must be discredited. "'You perhaps know by this time, from the _Gazette_, that your grandson, Trevor Langton, Esq., was saved, and not lost, at the wreck of the _Seahorse_, and behaved with the greatest gallantry in the action of the 16th of January with Admiral Juan de Langara's fleet. An old wound, reopened, has given him great pain, and he was in grave danger for a while, but is now convalescing. Being unable to sail with the fleet, he is now here in hospital, and there is no immediate prospect of his getting away. We are better friends than ever since finding out our relationship, and he is so fine a young gentleman, and so good an officer, that I think you could not do better than to make him your heir in lieu of my unworthy self.' "My boy, I am afraid I have murdered all your chances by that sentence, for our respected grandfather goes by the rule of contrary. "'Please present my uncle with my most respectful compliments, and assure him of my warmest affection. I shall endeavor to remember and profit by all his kind counsels except one--to abandon my country; but I was born an American and I mean to die one.'" "You could not help putting that in, could you?" languidly remarked Langton. "You are a great fellow for proclaiming what everybody knows, and thereby showing yourself very, very young." "And you are so prudent and oyster-like that you appear very, very old," retorted Archy, good-naturedly, "but not so very, very wise. However, see how respectfully I end my letter: "'With sincere good wishes for your lordship's health and happiness, and high appreciation of your lordship's extreme kindness to me, I beg leave to subscribe myself your lordship's affectionate grandson and obedient servant, "'ARCHIBALD BASKERVILLE, "'_Midshipman in the Continental Navy_.'" The cannonade from the Spanish lines had been booming all the time Archy and Langton were talking, but it sounded strangely near just then; and when Archy went to the window and looked towards the isthmus he saw that a new battery had been unmasked in the advanced lines of the Spaniards. Suddenly a deafening crash resounded behind him. A round shot had burst through the wall, and, amid the débris, lay the cot on which Langton was lying. He was unhurt, but Archy said: "Come, it is too hot here for us. I must get help and carry you up to the hut in the rocks." And in an hour Langton lay under the rude but safe shelter provided for him under the rocks at Europa Point. For the first week or two Archy was taken up with caring for Langton, and trying to make their cranny in the rocks comfortable. In this effort he met with the greatest kindness from Mrs. Curtis; and the deftness with which, out of their few belongings, she made them really a tolerably comfortable place to live, caused Archy to exclaim with enthusiasm: "I have always heard, ma'am, that one woman could do as much as twelve men and a boy; and now I know it!" Judkins's help was by no means to be despised, however, and with the resources of an old campaigner he showed them marvels. Archy was eager to begin the effort for his exchange immediately, but the garrison knew that Don Martin, the Spanish Commander-in-Chief, after the departure of the British fleet, had gone away for a few weeks to recover his health, and both Captain Curtis and General Eliot, to whom Captain Curtis introduced Archy, advised him to wait until Don Martin's return, as the second in command would probably do nothing in his absence. Archy acquiesced in this, and settled himself to spend the intervening time as patiently as he could. He was courteously, and even kindly, treated by everybody, and with his gay and jovial nature he soon became hail-fellow-well-met with the whole garrison and population, with one exception. This was the officers of the Hanoverian regiment, for King George had let some of his German troops for hire to fight the Spanish, as he had hired Hessians to fight the Americans. Archy found that the English officers and soldiers had but little more liking for the Hanoverians than he had, although it could not be denied that the Germans did their duty, and suffered and fought along with the rest. Archy took a malicious delight in telling how, in America, the Hessians were chiefly good for eating up the provender, and when there was fighting for dinner these prudent Teutons usually retired, and left the British to settle with the Americans. Archy, boy-like, although he had the stature of a man, avoided the Hanoverian officers ostentatiously, mimicked their droll accent whenever he had a chance, and took a vast amount of trouble to let them know how lightly he esteemed them--of which the stolid Germans were generally unconscious, and to which they were always indifferent. The bombardment kept up steadily, but the loss of life was singularly small. The people grew accustomed to it in the day, but those who had fled southward in the beginning, to temporary shelter, were still alarmed by it during the night, and so remained in their miserable huts. As the case always is, after the first horror people began to see the amusing side of even very dreadful events, and it became a relief to laugh at the grotesque things that happened. One evening, in the spring, about twilight, Archy Baskerville and Captain Curtis were walking soberly through one of the narrow streets of the upper town, passing the barracks of Colonel Schlippersgill's Hanoverian regiment. The windows of a small room, used as a mess-hall, were open, and around the table in the middle of the floor they could see a dozen burly German officers wreathed in smoke from their long pipes, and with great mugs of beer before them--for a supply of beer had been laid in especially for them. "Look at them," said Archy, in a tone of deep disgust, "smoking and guzzling--guzzling and smoking--nothing but that." "Nonsense," replied Captain Curtis, briskly. "Those poor Hanoverians can do nothing to please you. Their smoking is harmless, and their guzzling is of beer, which is much better for them than the rum and grog we give our men." Just then they noticed, in the soft dusk of evening, a two-legged black shadow moving around the parapet of the long, low building in which was the mess-hall. "It is a peacock," said Archy, after watching this mysterious creature for a while, "and a big one, too. Where do you suppose such a creature could come from?" "It is some one's pet peacock, no doubt," was Captain Curtis's reply, in a low voice--"some one who has managed to conceal it all this time." For animal pets had disappeared long before this, and had, generally speaking, been made into broth. The peacock tiptoed gingerly along the ledge, and then, going towards the centre of the roof, peered curiously down a small skylight that had been left open in the mess-room for the benefit of the air. "The peacock knows where to go for company," whispered Archy. "I always thought those German officers, with their everlasting strut, first cousin to the peacock family." The peacock, as if satisfied with his view, came back to the parapet, and then a voice was heard in an eager whisper from the street, saying, in Italian: "Pippo! my Pippo! Come back to me. Come back to me, Pippo. Ungrateful bird! For you I have nearly starved myself, and have remained in my cellar when I might have been safe elsewhere. Dear Pippo, come back!" A dark spot against the wall, under the window, resolved itself into the figure of an old Genoese woman, well known as Mother Nina, whose pet the peacock had been for many years, and who had miraculously kept the bird out of sight for months. Pippo seemed totally disinclined to accept this cordial invitation to return to his foster-mother, and showed his indifference by again tipping cautiously towards the open skylight. Archy, however, felt sorry for the poor old woman crouching under the window, and, seeing a trellis-work covered with vines by the side of the building, he quickly swung himself up on the roof, and moved softly towards the peacock, which seemed absorbed in contemplation of Colonel Schlippersgill and his companions under the skylight. Some words now floated up from the deep, guttural German throats. Archy did not understand German, but presently Colonel Schlippersgill himself spoke in English: "Eef it were not for dose damned golonies in Ameriga, der blace would haf been reliefed long ago. I would be glad der see der defel himself eef he would shtop der bang, bang--" That allusion to "damned golonies" was too much for Archy's temper. He seized the huge old peacock by the legs, and, giving it a vicious swing, which brought a frantic and ear-piercing squawk from the creature and an agonized shriek from the old woman, dashed the bird down the skylight into the laps of the German officers; and, at the same moment, the last shell of the day's bombardment struck a corner of the building with a loud explosion, hurling the old woman through the open window, where her yells, the peacock's screams, and the violence of the explosion made Bedlam. The uproar raised the whole street, and a crowd collected as if by magic. The German officers, wildly excited, rushed about bawling in German and English, while the old woman and the peacock maintained a duet of screams that could be heard half a mile. Meanwhile Archy, as innocent as a lamb, was at Captain Curtis's side, who, leaning up against the wall, added his robust haw-haws to the general commotion. In the midst of the racket and confusion, Colonel Schlippersgill rushed to the door, and, raising his hand for silence, bellowed out: "Mine friends, 'twas der peacock." At this a clear, boyish voice on the edge of the crowd rang out: "The peacock was looking for company." The people roared with laughter, except the German officers, while Colonel Schlippersgill shouted, angrily: "Arrest dot man!" To this the voice replied: "You'd better arrest the peacock." Another roar saluted this, but the old Genoese woman, supposing the peacock was about to be taken from her, began to screech: "Arrest my Pippo! Pippo mio--" and then poured out, at the top of her lungs, in English and Italian, the story of Pippo, varied with calling down maledictions on the head of Colonel Schlippersgill, whom, in some way, she held accountable for Pippo's misfortunes. She was interrupted by a file of soldiers marching down the narrow street in double time, with orders to investigate the disturbance. It did not take them half a minute to arrest the old woman and catch the peacock. Colonel Schlippersgill and his officers, swelling with rage, accompanied them voluntarily to the Provost Marshal's office. Captain Curtis and Archy followed, and the procession took its way towards headquarters. General Eliot happened to be there when the party appeared, and the investigation began. Colonel Schlippersgill and the old woman began their respective stories in English, but it soon resolved itself into a verbal duel in which the Colonel took to his native German and the old woman to her native Italian, with the result that even General Eliot's stern face resolved itself into a smile, the auditors were convulsed, and the soldier who held the peacock by the legs inadvertently let it go. When Pippo flew out of the window the old woman flew out of the door after it, and the investigation turned into a roaring farce, except so far as Colonel Schlippersgill was concerned, who went off swearing that he "would be damned but dat rapscallion dot galled der Cherman officers a beacock shouldt be arrested." The culprit, meanwhile, took his way gleefully up to Europa Point with Captain Curtis, and told the story in whispers to Mrs. Curtis and Langton. Judkins, who was cooking supper over a meagre fire, managed to catch it, and for once his hard features relaxed into a grin. After the scanty supper was over, when Archy, with a look of seraphic innocence was walking out of the hut, Judkins caught his eye, and, touching his cap, said, in a grim whisper: "Sarved them Dutchmen right, sir." CHAPTER XI The spring of 1780 advanced, and the dauntless garrison on the Rock saw no prospect of relief, but every man, woman, and child of English birth only grew the more determined not to surrender. No complaints were heard from any of them, and those of the highest rank and most delicate nurture were the bravest where all were brave. Especially was this true of the women, and the spectacle of their patience and calm courage was inspiring to the men. The Spanish bombardment was not then the terrible thing it became afterwards, but it was sufficiently annoying, and many officers preferred, as Captain Curtis did, the safety of camping out for their families to the dangers of the barracks, which were often bombarded in the night-time. The town, too, had become sickly, and the higher and purer air of the rocks was better than the close quarters of the narrow streets and rickety houses, half wrecked by the bombardment, which were hot-beds of disease. Their supplies were still plentiful, such as they were; but in those days only a few coarse sorts of provisions could be kept for any length of time, and the besieged people had to live on salt beef, hard biscuit, beans, and the few small and inferior fish they could catch. The hard fare told sadly on most of those who had to endure it, but Archy Baskerville positively throve on it, and grew taller and broader and ruddier every day. Some weeks passed before the return of Don Martin de Soltomayer, the Spanish Commander-in-Chief, and before Archy could take any steps towards passing through the Spanish lines. In that time Langton grew much better, and was able to walk about, although still pale and weak. Archy took the most devoted care of him, and found also plenty of time to do many small services for Mrs. Curtis, who learned to love him; and as for Dolly, she soon came to think him almost as agreeable a person as Judkins, and her heart was quite won when, once she was a little ill, Archy sneaked out at night and surreptitiously milked the one old cow still left the garrison, and which was especially reserved for the sick. Mrs. Curtis reproved him for it, but her reproaches sat lightly on Archy--by which it will be seen that he was far from a perfect young man. He was also an expert fisherman, and spent a good deal of his time on the sea-shore, from whence he would bring nearly every day a few miserable fish, which were esteemed the greatest delicacy by Mrs. Curtis, to whom Archy always gave them. Musa, the Moor, was generally hanging about the shore, engaged in the same employment. He was silent and uncommunicative by nature, but Archy's irrepressible cordiality and affability were such that he would have been on good terms eventually with an ogre, so that after a little while a sort of friendship came to subsist between them. At long intervals Musa would disappear for several days at a time, and Archy knew well enough that this time was spent in expeditions to the African coast. Sometimes Musa would succeed in getting across the Straits, and sometimes, after watching his chance for days, he would be unable to elude the Spanish cruisers, and would return to Gibraltar. In the latter part of March the Spanish Commander-in-Chief came back, and Archy, without any trouble, got permission to go with a flag of truce to the Spanish headquarters. Langton, who was still far from well, was extremely anxious to go with him to the Spanish camp, and, as Archy had permission to take one companion, he yielded to Langton's importunities and agreed to let him go. "Although I know I shall have to lug you back up these rocks; you will never be able to get back alone, as weak as you are," he added; at which Judkins, who was standing by, touched his cap respectfully, and said: "If Mr. Langton ain't able to climb up, sir, or to git down, for that matter, there's a fine, strong wheelbarrow here, and I can trundle him both ways quite convenient." Langton, bursting out laughing, cried: "That is the very thing. But we must leave the wheelbarrow at the Land Port. The Spaniards would shoot us on sight in such a rig." At mid-day, by tacit consent, the bombardment and the reply always abated--and in that interval an odd procession made its way towards the Land Port. Archy, laughing uproariously, with Captain Curtis smiling broadly, preceded the wheelbarrow. In it sat Langton, quite composed and dignified, and evidently enjoying his ride, while Judkins, looking as serious as an undertaker, trundled him carefully down the steep paths. Neither Archy's jeers, nor chaff from those of his brother officers he met, nor the smiles of ladies and children, disturbed Langton, who calmly descended at the Land Port, tightened his belt, straightened his cap, and announced that he was ready to see the Spanish Commander and his whole staff. [Illustration: LANGTON WAS TAKEN DOWN THE HILL IN A WHEELBARROW] A soldier, with a white handkerchief tied to a ramrod, went in advance of them towards the isthmus. As soon as he was perceived, an officer in the uniform of the Walloon regiment came towards them, and they met about half-way between the Spanish and English lines. The officer, a remarkably handsome young man, introduced himself as Lieutenant Von Helmstadt, of the Walloon regiment, and Archy handed him a letter from General Eliot to Don Martin, which he received with great respect, raising his cap as he did so, and saying: "I will conduct you, with pleasure, if you will submit to the usual custom of being blindfolded?" "Certainly," responded Archy, taking out his handkerchief, which was bound tightly over his eyes by Von Helmstadt, and Langton and the soldier were treated likewise. Thus blindfolded, they stumbled on for a half-mile through the Spanish lines. Presently they realized that they were entering a tent, and Von Helmstadt removing the handkerchiefs from their eyes, they found themselves in the tent of Don Martin. The Spanish Commander-in-Chief was a handsome, middle-aged man, with a truly Spanish dignity and suavity. The party was introduced by Von Helmstadt, and Archy produced General Eliot's letter, which Don Martin read attentively, and then folded up. "You would find it extremely difficult to get through Spain, even with the best passports," he said, in French. "Our people do not readily distinguish between the English and the Americans, and they are now unreasonably exasperated against the English." "I know it, sir," answered Archy, respectfully; "but if you will give me the passports I will take my chances." "It is a matter for consideration," continued Don Martin. "I could not guarantee your safety a mile beyond my lines. I shall have to lay the affair before my Government, and I will inform you of the result." Archy, who was quick of wit, saw in a moment that Don Martin had no overweening desire to pass him through, and the immediate turning of the conversation towards an indifferent subject convinced him that he would not soon see the outside world. After a few minutes they rose, Don Martin saying, with great dignity: "Present my best compliments to General Eliot, and say to him I am most happy to hear of his continued good health, and that I will immediately communicate with him by letter concerning this matter." They were again blindfolded before leaving the tent, and so made their way back to the British lines, accompanied by Von Helmstadt. The manners of this young Walloon officer had been most courteous, and on parting he said, good-humoredly, "I hope that none of our balls has a message for you." "The same to you," responded Langton. As soon as they were out of ear-shot, Langton said, significantly, to Archy: "You'll not get out." "You think so?" "I know it. But you'll see all the fun"--this somewhat lugubriously. Archy walked on, sad and disappointed, and did not even smile when Langton climbed into the wheelbarrow and Judkins rushed it up the steep roadway at a smart gait. As might have been foreseen, Don Martin did nothing towards getting Archy to France. A courteous and ornate reply was received promptly to General Eliot's letter, and after that came a long silence. Then followed a series of letters, requesting all sorts of proof that Archy was what he represented himself to be. These, Don Martin always politely explained, were in the usual order, and came not from him, but from the Minister at Madrid. Archy was asked to show his uniform and sword. He had neither. There were more letters, more asseverations of a desire to pass him through; but the upshot of all the negotiations was that Archy never found he had made the slightest real progress towards getting out. He wrote many letters to his uncle, and even to Lord Bellingham, trusting to the chance of Musa's getting them across to the African coast; but even while writing them he felt the uselessness of it. And, after a while, what seemed to him a strange thing came to pass. In spite of his being a prisoner, he began to be heart and soul with the British garrison. As he explained it, in a burst of confidence, to Langton: "I ought not to want you to win. I ought to wish that the Spaniards should march in to-morrow morning; but I don't--and I can't. Don't mistake me. I would lay down my life this moment to drive you out of North America. That is my country, and there you are my enemies; but, dash me, Langton, if I can spend months here, eating your bread, such as it is, well treated by everybody, seeing what a gallant fight you are making against the Spaniards, without feeling as one of you. I suppose it is clean against the articles of war to feel so, but I can't help it." "I would feel the same way, I dare say, under the same circumstances," replied Langton. "You see, you are not a prisoner on American ground--or English ground either, for that matter; that makes all the difference in the world. And, besides, you are not treated as a prisoner. You would be a queer fish not to feel as you do." "At all events, I shall do my duty; and if that old hidalgo, Don Martin de Stick-in-the-mud, thinks I mean to give up trying to get away from here, he does not know Archibald Baskerville, Esquire--that much is plain. I have written him letters in English, French, and Spanish--such French and Spanish! I dare say the old fellow finds the reading of them as hard work as I do the writing them, and I can keep it up as long as he can." The quiet endurance which was necessary to bear this life of tedium and hardship patiently had been left out in Archy's make-up, and he became restless, and yearned for an adventure of some sort. Naturally his mind turned towards the sea, and he began to wish that he might go with Musa on one of his expeditions across the Straits. He knew very well that if captured he would be taken for an Englishman, and the chances were ten to one against him then; but he had no notion of being captured. Musa, under the circumstances, would meet with great indulgence, as the Spaniards were extremely anxious to turn the neutrality of the Moors into active friendship. The very day this scheme entered his mind he went down to the shore early in the morning, and found Musa getting his lines ready to fish from the rocks. They were quite alone, and Archy began, artfully: "Do you know, Musa, I believe I should die if I were to be shut up like this anywhere I could not see salt-water. I am a sea-officer, you know; and in my own dear country, before I went in the navy, I lived on a great, salt bay--like a sea, really--and I never remember the time I did not know how to manage a boat." Musa's reply to this was a little discouraging. "No doubt your excellency can manage a boat. But, generally, the officers of a big ship do not know how to manage a little boat. They seem to think they can do as much with a small boat as with a big ship, and they can't." "Musa," said Archy, presently, "I have read something of the history of the Moors in Spain. What great fellows for fighting were those Moors! I dare say some of your ancestors were chieftains there." "Yes," answered Musa, proudly, "and they did not yield to the Spaniards--they died fighting. Only the women and children were left alive." Archy having found a subject dear to Musa's heart, lost no time in cultivating it. When he had exhausted all he knew about the Moors in Spain, he left Musa, and, going up into the town, begged and borrowed the few books in the garrison that treated of the Moors in Spain, and eagerly read them. Every time he met Musa he had a new supply of heroic actions of the Moors to tell about. He got a volume of Shakespeare, and, having mastered the story of Othello, told it very gravely, as an exact and well-authenticated history of the dependence of the state of Venice upon a Moorish commander. Musa was a man of character and abilities, but he had a tremendous supply of racial vanity, and Archy's artful praises of his country bore fruit immediately. Within a week Musa had agreed to take him on a trip to Tetuan, across the Straits, which he was planning for the first dark night. General Eliot's consent had to be gained; but after a private interview with him Archy came forth beaming. It had been arranged that two sets of despatches, duly authenticated and sealed, should be prepared--but one set was bogus. If captured, Musa and Archy were to frankly confess they were carrying despatches, and give up the bogus ones, and offer to get more if allowed to return to Gibraltar. This stratagem seemed so likely to succeed that both Archy and Musa were eager to be off, and two nights afterwards a cloudy sky and a moonless night saw them both in a small cutter belonging to the _Enterprise_, bound for the African side. Archy had persuaded Musa to take the English boat instead of the unwieldy tub with a huge lateen-sail with which the Moor was familiar, and with the one sail and the jib Archy felt capable of sailing to America if necessary. True, the cutter was of a build and rig unusual in the Mediterranean, and might excite suspicion on that account; but Archy, like a true sailor, preferred to take his chances in something that the wind could drive along than to the foreign boats, which he regarded with unmixed contempt. Under Captain Curtis's advice he put on the jacket and trousers of a Maltese sailor with a red fez, and about eleven o'clock at night they set sail for the African coast. The current which sets through the Straits was in their favor, as they were bound for Tetuan, about forty miles in a straight line from Gibraltar. Their great danger lay in running across the Spanish vessels, which cruised incessantly up and down the Straits, but the blockade was not then as strict as it afterwards became. They had a lantern with them, but carefully refrained from showing a light. As they sailed along under a lowering sky--rare at that season--they frequently saw the lights of the Spanish cruisers, but they handled the boat so skilfully that they were not once hailed, much less overhauled. A sense of joy filled Archy's heart when he found himself again on the sea; and seeing his perfect familiarity with the boat Musa allowed him to manage it, only giving an occasional hint about the currents, with which Archy was unfamiliar. The wind did not fail them during the whole night, and next day, on a brilliant forenoon, they were off the old walled town of Tetuan, with its flanking towers showing clear against the glorious blue of an African sky. They sailed into the harbor and landed on a rickety old mole, crowded with Moors, Berbers, Arabs, and Jews. The British still maintained a consulate there, chiefly for the chance of communicating with Gibraltar, and, as soon as they landed, Archy went to the Consul's house. It was a low building, with many pillars, after the Moorish fashion, and under the quaint colonnade sat the Consul in a linen jacket and slippers, taking his noonday coffee. When the handsome young Maltese sailor, as Archy looked to be, with a bag of letters over his shoulder, walked up to him in true Anglo-Saxon fashion, and said, "Good-morning, sir," the Consul nearly fell off his chair with surprise. But Archy soon made known who he was, and was very warmly greeted. The Consul eagerly asked his news and despatches, and when he found out that the Rock was well provisioned and the garrison was more indomitable than ever, he said: "I will call the chiefs and principal men of the town together to-morrow, that I may tell them your story--for their respect for England and English rights will be very much increased thereby; and, meanwhile, you must be my guest." Archy was only too happy to accept, and spent the next twenty-four hours chiefly in gobbling oranges--the first fruit he had seen for months--and galloping up and down the environs of the town on a vicious donkey, with which he had several disagreements, that invariably ended in the donkey pitching him heels-over-head. But Archy did not mind a little thing like that, and was always ready to tackle the donkey again. Next day a great assemblage of Tetuan notabilities met at the Consul's house, and while sitting around a tinkling fountain in the court-yard, with coffee, sherbet, and pipes, the Consul, seated in the middle, with Archy on one side and Musa on the other, began the story of the failure of the Spanish, so far, to capture Gibraltar. He spoke in Italian, which is the _lingua franca_ of that region, and frequently turned to Archy and Musa for confirmation. Archy did not know a word of the _lingua franca_, but he nodded his head gravely whenever the Consul turned to him with a note of inquiry in his voice. The chiefs and notabilities sat silent and attentive, puffing at their pipes; and it was plain that they were deeply impressed by what they heard. The confabulation broke up after several hours, and Archy returned to his amusement of stuffing oranges and riding donkeys. The Consul took a day or two to make up his despatches, and to get together the few and scant letters and despatches that he had received for the garrison by merchant-ships and such stray means of communication. They were concealed in oranges, hollowed out for the purpose, and put in a bag which was carefully stowed away in the cutter. As fresh fruit was not only the greatest luxury but the greatest necessity of the Gibraltar garrison, in which scurvy had appeared, the cutter was filled with as much as she could carry without impeding her sailing qualities--and then came the waiting for a dark night. But the nights refused to grow dark, and, emboldened by their success in eluding the Spanish cruisers before, both Archy and Musa, on the third evening, determined to take the chances, and, the wind being fair, they sailed in the afternoon for Gibraltar. Bright as was the night, and white as was their sail, it seemed as though they would slip through the blockading fleet as easily as they had six nights before. They passed several Spanish cruisers, and were hailed more than once; but their boat was so small, and holding only two men, no further effort was made to stop them. About two o'clock in the morning, when it really began to grow dark, and they were not more than ten miles from Gibraltar in a straight line, they found themselves unexpectedly close to a Spanish gun-brig. They were hailed, and, as before, paid no attention, and continued on their tack. The brig, however, put about and came after them, emphasizing her desire to speak with them by firing a blank cartridge at them. It was then high time to take some notice of it, but instead of heaving to they tacked for the brig, and in a few minutes were alongside. The Spanish officer of the deck, leaning over the rail, called out: "Who are you?" "Let me come aboard and I will tell you," replied Musa. In another minute he was on board, leaving Archy to hold the boat. Archy could not catch the conversation between Musa and the Spanish lieutenant, but he saw Musa show the bogus despatches, then both went below and remained ten minutes, evidently in the captain's cabin. They came on deck again, and Musa had a little bag in his hand, and a letter. He swung himself into the cutter, the lieutenant and one or two of the watch called out "Good-bye!" and immediately they were proceeding in opposite directions. Musa stowed his bag away carefully, and then, in response to Archy's eager questions, said: "He gave me fifty doubloons for my despatches, and a letter to the commanding officer of any Spanish vessel that may stop us, telling them to let us pass into Gibraltar, as we have brought them valuable news and may bring more." "Hurrah!" cried Archy, under his breath. But they were not stopped any more, and under cover of darkness they again slipped into Gibraltar Bay. About a mile from the nearest point of debarkation they were chased by a Spaniard, but a battery near by opened fire vigorously, and under cover of the cannonade they landed. It was then after sunrise, and the firing had roused the garrison. As soon as they landed they went to headquarters, accompanied by a number of officers, including Captain Curtis and Langton and a crowd of other persons. When they were in General Eliot's presence Musa motioned to Archy to speak, and Archy motioned to Musa--so there was silence. "Will you proceed, Mr. Baskerville?" asked General Eliot. Archy, thus adjured, gave an account of the trip, and produced the letters and despatches. Then Musa, with great dignity, laid the little bag of doubloons down on the table. "Excellency, I was afraid to refuse them, but I do not consider the money mine," he said. "Then whose is it?" asked General Eliot. "I, as an officer, can take none of it," replied Archy, quickly. "Musa, it is yours," said General Eliot, "and it does not half repay what you have done for us. As for you, Mr. Baskerville, I can only say that now, more than ever, we regard you as a friend instead of an enemy--a guest instead of a prisoner." CHAPTER XII The siege proceeded determinedly, and every day the blockade grew stricter, and the garrison was hemmed in more closely both by land and sea. No naval expedition had been organized against the little British squadron that lay under the guns of the fortress, but it was scarcely thought probable that Admiral Barcelo, with his blockading fleet, which stretched the length of the Straits, would not attack it. Admiral Duff, who commanded the little British squadron of five ships, only one of which carried sixty guns, fully expected it, and made ready for it. Captain Curtis's ship, the _Enterprise_, of twenty-eight guns, being short of officers, Langton was formally assigned to her as soon as he was fully recovered. This left Archy alone in their hut on Europa Point. He had ostensibly nothing to do; but there are few occasions on which a kind heart, an active brain, and good legs and arms cannot find some useful work, and he found it in many ways. The officers and men were so vigilant, night and day, at the guns, erecting new batteries, repairing old ones, shifting guns from a good position to a better, that they could give but little attention to the women and children. There was always plenty for them to do, and Archy, who at home in America had been accustomed to being waited on every moment by black servants, now very cheerfully did for others what he had been used to having done for him. Whenever there was a distribution of supplies he was always on hand to help the weak, the sick, and the old with their precious burdens. Every night before turning in Captain Curtis would show a light from his cabin window, which meant to his anxious wife on the Rock that all was well, and in reply a lantern would be flashed to him from the little hut on Europa. One night in the early part of June, 1780, Archy was walking back to the hut, after showing the light, when he saw Musa standing in the pathway. The night was dark and rainy, and a Levanter--that wind which brings cold and misery and illness--was blowing fiercely. Musa touched him on the arm, and spoke in perfectly good English: "Good-evening, Excellency." "Good-evening, Musa. What are you doing up here this time of night?" "I came to see his Excellency, Captain Curtis. I thought I could read the lights on the ship, and that he was ashore, but he is on his ship. I am going to him now." "Is there to be a night attack?" "How should I know, Excellency?" answered Musa, who could keep his own counsel. Archy went back to the hut, left the lantern, and said, cheerfully, to Mrs. Curtis: "I think I shall go down to the mole and ask Captain Curtis if I may stay aboard ship with Langton," which was a very usual thing for him to do. Archy walked fast down the hill, for it was nearly nine o'clock, after which no one was permitted to pass the sentries except by giving the countersign. He reached the new mole just as the slight commotion of relieving the guard was heard. The _Enterprise_ was anchored no great distance from the mole, in advance of the other four small vessels of the squadron near by, and the last boat was just putting off. Langton was in it, and Musa also, and in response to Langton's cordial invitation Archy jumped aboard. Arrived at the ship, they found Captain Curtis taking a walk on the quarter-deck before turning in. Langton asked permission for Archy to remain on board all night, which Captain Curtis at once granted, and then turned to speak to Musa, who evidently had something to communicate. Archy followed Langton below, to a little cabin which had been given him, not on account of his rank, but because of the lack of the full number of officers on the ship. As soon as they were alone, Archy said, significantly: "I think that Arab fellow suspects an attack is to be made to-night." "Very likely. If Captain Curtis had been Admiral Barcelo he would have burned or scuttled us long ago." "I shall sleep on the floor here, if you don't mind." "Do you expect me to give you my bunk?" "If I wanted it I'd throw you out, but as you are a little boy, and the grandson of a lord, you may keep it." "I wonder what our respected grandfather would say if he had to sleep in a hole like this?" "He would say a whole dictionaryful, and smash everything he could lay his hands on besides." "Pleasant old person, he must be." "We will make a visit to Bellingham Castle together when the war is over--when we have walloped you, and when I am a post-captain in the American navy, and you are still a midshipman in the steerage." At which Langton, now quite as strong as Archy, kicked at him, and the two immediately engaged in a friendly and noiseless scuffle, for Captain Curtis was a strict disciplinarian, and kept an orderly ship. Just as Langton had succeeded in getting Archy down, and had planted his knee firmly on that young gentleman's broad chest, the cabin door accidentally swung open, and there was Captain Curtis passing by. Both young fellows jumped as if they were shot. Captain Curtis said nothing, but his look of inquiry was answered by Archy's saying: "Mr. Langton and I were having a friendly tussle over--what was it, Lanky? Our grandfather, or the war?" "The war," replied Langton, smiling. "You may have a tussle of another sort to-night," said Captain Curtis, coolly. "There is a prospect of an attack on us before morning. If you wish to go ashore," he continued, turning to Archy, "I can send you in my gig." Now the idea of being on shore when anything was going on aboard ship was harrowing to Archy, and he made haste to protest. "I have no objections to your staying," said Captain Curtis. "I think an attempt will be made to burn the ship, and every able-bodied man who can handle a bucket will be welcome. You will not, of course, be called upon to do any fighting, but you must provide yourself with a cutlass and a brace of pistols to defend yourself in case the Spaniards should board us--for in the mêlée they will not stop to inquire your nationality. Good-night," and Captain Curtis passed on. Langton went out and called the master-at-arms, who produced a cutlass and a pair of navy pistols, and Archy, placing them under his pillow, rolled himself in a blanket on the floor and meant to go fast asleep. But he could not. The wind rose and the ship began to roll. Neither could Langton sleep; so they spent the hours in talking in whispers, chiefly about their family concerns, and each anticipating, after the fashion of the young and hopeful, that their whole lives were to be ordered exactly as they wished. Archy even predicted that Langton would distinguish himself so much that he would be offered a peerage, and then his grandfather, in default of other heirs, would have him made Lord Bellingham, of Bellingham Castle. Langton, who was of a cooler nature than Archy, laughed at this, but admitted that he would not mind being Lord Bellingham's heir, and would do the handsome thing by Archy, by his mother, his sisters--everybody. Midnight came and went, and just as two bells were striking they heard a hail on the opposite side of the ship. The reply came back immediately: "This is the _Hind_, provision-ship, from England." "But that is no English voice that says so," were Langton's words to Archy as they both rose, and, taking their arms, stepped out into the gangway. They heard the officer of the deck shout "Keep off!" and the next minute every crack and cranny of the ship was illuminated with an unearthly red light. Langton rushed up on deck, followed by Archy. Within half a cable's length of them was a fire-ship, with six others following in a compact semicircle. The decks were glowing redly with the combustibles that were already lighted to throw aboard the _Enterprise_, and the few men who were to fire the ship were dashing the burning fuses at her; but they fell short, and dropped harmlessly in the black water. Captain Curtis had already ordered the boats to be lowered away, and this was done with the utmost steadiness and quickness. When Langton stepped into his boat, Archy involuntarily, and without asking himself why he did so, followed him. No one ordered him back--in fact, no one thought of him. All were engrossed, as he was, in the terrible work before them of grappling and destroying the fire-ships, which the wind was driving on to the _Enterprise_ and her consorts. With a yell, the Spaniards on each of the fire-ships dropped into the boats they were towing astern, and, taking to their oars, made off rapidly in the darkness of the night. Every ship in the British squadron was awake and alive then, and their boats had taken the water. The _Enterprise_, though, being the farthest out, seemed to be the target for which all the fire-ships were aiming; and, borne by wind and tide, they were drifting frightfully fast upon her. Her boats, however, managed, in the most seaman-like manner, to intercept them, and grappled with them, while the combustibles on their decks were blazing, the flames were running up their rigging, and the tremendous explosions of powder crashed out and made the solid rock to shake. The boats, in danger of being swamped every moment, of being blown skyward, and of being engulfed in fire, yet did their duty manfully. Langton's boat, with another one, made fast to the foremost fire-ship, and the men, bending to their oars with a will, towed it blazing and exploding to the rocks, where it was run ashore, and the boat made off just as one last crash blew the burning hulk to pieces. The garrison took the alarm, and a furious cannonade from a hundred guns burst upon the night. The scene was awful beyond description. The very Rock itself seemed to blaze with light from its batteries, while the red glare from the burning vessels cast a vivid, unearthly brightness upon sea and shore and ships. In the midst of it, two large Spanish frigates were seen to emerge from the darkness, as it were, into the circle of fire, and steer straight for the little _Enterprise_. The batteries on shore instantly directed all their fire towards the two ships, and that, with the smart broadside from the ship, and the shells that were dropping everywhere, forced them to withdraw. For two hours the fight with the fire-ships continued, but at the end of that time they were all driven ashore, and lay in wrecked and smouldering masses on the rocks. Archy scarcely remembered what part he had in the affair, except that he sat in the stern-sheets with Langton and helped to handle the grappling-irons while the men pulled; but when it was all over, and, smoke-begrimed and weary, they clambered over the side of the ship, Captain Curtis met them, and, grasping Langton's hand, said: "I never saw a boat better handled in my life--and you, Mr. Baskerville, did your part well." That was praise enough for Langton and Archy. It was nearly four o'clock before they were ready to turn in, and dawn was beginning to appear. The town had been thoroughly alarmed, and crowds ran down to the mole as soon as the danger was over. Archy recognized Judkins's stalwart figure in the dim light as he trotted down the hill, trundling the identical wheelbarrow which had been Langton's coach on a former occasion. As soon as he reached the shore he began to fill his wheelbarrow with floating pieces of the wreck for fire-wood, which was very scarce. Judkins was a thrifty soul, and before anybody had time to draw a long breath, after the dangers they had escaped, he was looking out for the comfort of Mrs. Curtis and Dolly in the matter of fuel. At four o'clock Langton had to take his watch, and, on going below a few minutes beforehand, he found Archy snugly tucked in his berth and sleeping like a baby, after his night of excitement. The failure of this attack apparently discouraged the Spaniards, and as the summer progressed they seemed to rely more upon starving the garrison out than upon a direct attack with their present means. They therefore confined themselves to a strict blockade by night and day, and devoted all their energies to making new and tremendous fortifications on the isthmus, upon which they mounted great numbers of heavy guns, provided with vast magazines of ammunition. This last was very injudicious, as it turned out. General Eliot, observing all they did, purposely let them carry the work, during the summer and autumn, to a certain point, disturbing them little; but he had a deep and far-reaching scheme in regard to this. He had determined upon a sortie, and on the evening of the 26th of November, after gun-fire and the closing of the gates for the night, the orders were given. Everything had been arranged beforehand, but only two or three officers besides General Eliot knew of the plan, as the utmost secrecy was essential. As most of the regular garrison was necessary to remain in charge of the fortress, the attacking body of two thousand men was made up largely of the sailors and marines from the squadron in the harbor. Captain Curtis was to be in command of the left column, and Langton was one of the young officers to be under him. The men for the sortie were to assemble without beat of the drum about three o'clock in the morning, when the moon would be gone down; but they were notified at nine o'clock the night before. There was no suspicion of anything unusual in the air until, at half-past nine o'clock that night, Captain Curtis and Langton were seen coming up the path towards the hut, and the little group assembled there knew in a moment that something unlooked for had happened. Mrs. Curtis and Archy were sitting within the rude shelter, while outside, in the full radiance of a brilliant moon that lighted the heavens with glory, sat Dolly, wrapped up in a huge old boat-cloak of her father's, with Judkins by her. The two had been singing, and, as Judkins's bashfulness forbade him to sing in the presence of Mrs. Curtis, the two had retired, according to custom, to a nook in the rock, whence they could be heard but not seen. "Now, Judkins," Dolly was saying, "we only have time to sing the evening hymn before I must go to bed. I always think of papa on his ship when I sing it, and wish he were here to listen to it." "True for you, Miss Dolly," answered Judkins, gravely. "It's 'opin' I am that my honored cap'n may be with his little girl more than he is now--when them bloody Spaniards leaves off tryin' to beat us off our own ground, and goes 'ome and minds their business as they ought to." And then their voices rose in sweetness--Judkins's rich barytone and Dolly's bird-like soprano; and they had two reverent hearers in Captain Curtis and Langton, who stopped a little distance off and listened, with bared heads, to this sweet and simple hymn. "Why, there's papa now--and Mr. Langton too!" screamed Dolly, and, according to custom, she flew towards her father and swung around him. Mrs. Curtis forbore to ask any questions until Dolly was gone, after a specially affectionate good-night from her father; and when she was out of the way, Captain Curtis said but one word: "Sortie." But that one word meant volumes. Archy had never ceased to admire and respect the fortitude of the women in all the dreadful events that he had seen of the siege, and he admired it more than ever when he observed the calm courage with which Mrs. Curtis received this announcement. There was danger in the attempt--extreme danger; but instead of weakly bewailing it, and distressing Captain Curtis by her fears, Mrs. Curtis showed a gentle self-control and a desire that Captain Curtis should have an opportunity to serve his country still further which was nobly inspiring. Their time was short, and in a few minutes Captain Curtis and Langton were on their way back. Archy and Judkins were with them. As they walked along Archy was considering anxiously how he could manage to go along with the attacking column and yet observe his character as a prisoner of war. Besides his natural and indomitable love of adventure, life on the Rock was a drearily monotonous business, and any break in it would have been eagerly sought by a young man of less daring disposition than Archy Baskerville. But--a non-combatant--he was turning over in his mind what device he could hit upon on which to base his request, when Judkins showed him the way. "If you please, sir," said Judkins to Captain Curtis, "maybe the likes o' me ought not to ax it, but there will be some poor wounded men lyin' in the trenches and ditches after this here sortie, and I'd be monstrous glad, sir, if you could let me go out, sir, in the rear, sir, along with the men from the 'orspital, to help fetch them poor souls back, when they can't get back of themselves, sir." "Very well," replied Captain Curtis, "I think you can be useful, and I will mention it to the Commander-in-Chief." "And I, sir," said Archy, in a wheedling voice. "You'll hardly do it for Judkins and refuse me? I assure you, sir, I will not go one step beyond where I am ordered; and you see, sir, what a strong fellow I am. Judkins and I could manage a stretcher famously between us--couldn't we, Judkins?" "Lord! yes, sir," was Judkins's answer, with a broad grin of approbation. And so, at three o'clock of a dark morning, when the column moved out in death-like silence, behind them marched the hospital corps, and with that corps were Archy Baskerville and old Judkins. CHAPTER XIII The night was pitch-dark, and the three detachments marched out in perfect silence. The Spaniards had no suspicion of an attack until the first division was directly at the outer line of fortifications. Then the sentries quickly gave the word, the drums beat the alarm, and the camp of fourteen thousand men was roused in an instant. The first onslaught, however, of the British was irresistible. They overpowered the guard, and the work of firing and destroying the guns and fortifications immediately began. Before the Spanish Commander-in-Chief, in the darkness and confusion, could get his troops under arms the blowing up of the magazines had begun, and whole batteries of guns had been spiked. The bastions and gabions were fired, and so rapid and thorough were the British in their work that it was all over before the Spaniards realized what was happening, and the British were making for the Land Port gate. The Spanish camp had been thrown into the greatest confusion, and their first line of fortifications was now past saving. The noise and the bursting out of flames and the explosions of powder were dreadful, but all were between the British and their foes. The losses of the detachment had been trifling, and Archy Baskerville had found nothing to do except to stand off and watch the quick progress of events. But while the three divisions were retreating rapidly and in good order to the gate, he saw in a ditch in front of him an officer lying on his side and groaning with agony. [Illustration: HE SAW AN OFFICER LYING IN A DITCH] "Help here!" cried Archy; and in another moment Judkins was at his side, and the two had the officer on a stretcher and were carrying him with a rush towards the British lines, the officer meanwhile feebly protesting. "No, no," he cried; "let there be one Spaniard to die with honor at his post." And in a moment more, by the light of burning timbers and bursting bombs, Archy saw that he was the young Walloon officer, Von Helmstadt, whom he had seen months before at the time of his first effort to get out of the fortress. Day was breaking as they carried him fainting into the hospital. The surgeons managed to revive him, and then, examining him, told him he must lose his leg. "No, no," he cried; "better to die at once! Why did not that brave young man leave me to my fate? All would have been over by this time." Archy could stand no more, but rushed out and up to Europa Point, where he found Mrs. Curtis watching and waiting. "I have not been in my bed this night," she said. Archy, with a bursting heart, told her of Von Helmstadt. He had a deep feeling of sympathy for the young Walloon officer, so far from home, and in such heart-breaking straits. There was, however, little else but rejoicing on the Rock that day, for the result of the sortie was in the highest degree favorable to the besieged. The Spaniards saw in two hours the complete destruction of what had cost them months of labor and millions of money to construct. They seemed paralyzed by their loss, and for a while the besieged had a respite. But there was no respite in the blockade. The supplies left by Rodney's fleet were beginning to grow very scant, and although all eyes in the garrison every morning for months scanned the sea for the sails of a British fleet, none appeared. As the year 1780 drew to a close the prospects of the garrison grew darker. The sufferings of the sick were acute, and none more so than those of poor Von Helmstadt, who daily grew worse. He resisted the taking-off of his leg, which the doctors told him was the only means of saving his life, until at last General Eliot himself went to his bedside and begged him to submit. "I have a reason, sir," replied Von Helmstadt. "I am engaged to marry a beautiful and charming girl. If I lose my leg and live, how can I ask her to tie herself to a mutilated creature, as I shall be, for life? Yet I know her constancy so well that I am sure she will be the more determined on fulfilling her promise to me." "But your duty to your country," argued General Eliot, "and your duty to your family? Have you not a mother, a father--some one whose heart would be broken if you sacrifice your life to this?" Von Helmstadt remained silent for a moment. "Yes," he said, after a pause, while his eyes filled with tears, "I have a mother and a father, too. You are right, General. It is my duty to live, even if I live mutilated." The whole garrison took the deepest interest in this brave young man. The best of their poor supplies was reserved for him, and nothing was too much to be done for him in the hope, at least, of lessening his sufferings. Archy and Judkins became heroes as his rescuers. Every day Archy visited him, and was received affectionately by him, even in his utmost misery. His patience was so touching, his courage so unbroken, that often Archy would leave the bedside completely unmanned by the sight of Von Helmstadt's sufferings, and the sorrowful conviction that all was in vain. Nor was the heroic young officer forgotten by his own friends, and daily flags of truce came to inquire after him and to bring messages and letters from his comrades. He bore the agony of amputation with extraordinary bravery, but after a day or two of hope he grew very ill, and soon it was seen that the end was near. Never had Archy Baskerville in his life felt so painful an interest as in this gallant young man, whom he had helped to save from one death only to see him die in a more lingering and distressing manner. They were the only two souls within the gates of the beleaguered fortress who had not common cause with the besieged. At last, after four weeks of suffering, the end came on Christmas Eve. The time itself was solemn instead of joyful, and it was made more sad by the death of the brave young prisoner for whom every one in the fortress felt such tender sympathy. The Spaniards were notified immediately that the body would be carried to them the next day with military honors. Never could Archy Baskerville forget the Christmas of 1780. It was a beautiful, mild day, but to those brave souls imprisoned and fighting for their lives on the Rock of Gibraltar there was a melancholy glory in the day which seemed to make their situation the more poignant. Want and scarcity prevailed in all things except the implements of war and destruction. There was no Christmas cheer, but the congregations that assembled in the garrison chapel and the Catholic church in the town were quiet and resigned, like people who have ever before them the prospect of death and bereavement. As soon as the morning services were over the sad procession was formed to carry Von Helmstadt's body to the Spaniards. It was determined to take it by water, and all the boats in the little squadron were drawn up at the new mole for the escort, while on the Spanish side a similar procession was waiting to move. The flag on the hospital was at half-mast, and a large detachment of troops, with all the highest officers of the garrison, and a body of seamen and marines under Captain Curtis's command, was formed to receive the body when it was brought out. Archy Baskerville, as the one who had brought the young Walloon officer in, was given a place among the mourners who followed the gun-carriage on which the coffin lay, wrapped in the Spanish flag. To the solemn strains of the dead-march and the booming of minute-guns the procession moved, followed by General Eliot as chief mourner, with many officers of high rank, and Archy Baskerville, the youngest person among them, walking in the last line. They reached the new mole presently, where the body was transferred to the first cutter of the _Enterprise_, and Captain Curtis then took command. At the same moment that the boats put off from the British side the procession started from the Spanish side. Midway in the bay they met, when the Spaniards received the body, and the British cutters turned back. Out of respect to the Spaniards, who would not have understood the custom, the British refrained from playing the lively airs with which they endeavor to lighten the hearts of the men returning from a comrade's funeral, and slowly and solemnly they pulled back to their own ground. Never had the prospects of Archy Baskerville's reaching France seemed more improbable than on that melancholy Christmas night of 1780. Yet within twenty-four hours he found himself far beyond both the British and Spanish lines, and free--free to take his desperate chances of escape through a country where he might at any moment be mistaken for an Englishman, and where an Englishman could expect no mercy. The evening of Christmas Day was one of mist and gloom. Archy had spent the early part of the afternoon in the hut at Europa, where they had made a little festival, such as their poor means allowed, for Dolly, and she and Judkins had sung them a Christmas hymn; and then, as people will in sad times, they had sat around the scanty fire and told of happy Christmas-times in the past. Archy felt strangely unhappy. Besides the sorrows of their own condition, he had heart-breaking anxieties about his country and the mortal struggle in which she was engaged, and even his hopeful and buoyant spirit gave way under the misery and monotony of the long months of the siege. About eight o'clock they separated--Captain Curtis and Langton to return to their ship, and Archy, out of pure restlessness, going down to the shore with them. Mrs. Curtis's last words spoke the hope and cheerfulness which seemed to dwell in every one of the heroic women on the Rock. "Good-night, Archy," she said. "All will be bright in the morning," and Dolly swung round his neck, asking: "Why don't you laugh, Archy, and be merry, and make us all laugh, as you always do?" "Because I can't now, Dolly," answered Archy, kissing her and putting her down. "But next time you see me I will be just as gay as a bird." Then, with Captain Curtis and Langton, he started for the shore. At the mole the _Enterprise_ boat was waiting, and the last that Archy heard in the darkness of a misty night was a cheery "Good-night--good-night!" from Captain Curtis and Langton. Long time was it to be before he was to hear those well-loved voices again. Archy walked along the shore towards the isthmus in the dusky evening. He kept close to the shore, listening to the boom of the waves, and so absorbed in his own melancholy thoughts that he scarcely noticed where he was going. The shore was well patrolled, and it was common enough for him to walk there in the evening. At one point within the English lines a number of small boats were tied to a huge stake, and into one of these Archy stepped and seated himself. The sentry who was passing looked curiously at him, and then, saluting, went on. He was a man in the garrison who knew Archy personally, and he did not think it strange that the young American midshipman should pause in his walk and rest a while in the boat. The mist was gathering fast, and the wind was sweeping in from the Mediterranean, and it was growing very dark. Archy was roused by hearing the nine-o'clock gun fired. He lifted his head and the thought came-- "I shall have to communicate with Captain Curtis, so as to pass the sentries and get back to Europa." He turned to spring ashore, but he found the line had parted, and the boat had drifted out a considerable distance. He felt in the bottom for oars. There were none. The darkness had descended like a pall, and the wind suddenly became a gust. He could see nothing, but he knew that wind and tide were driving him towards the Spanish lines. He was by nature well-equipped to meet danger, and in a moment his brooding depression--the rarest of moods for him--gave place to coolness, calmness, and perfect self-possession. He was a good swimmer, and quickly determined that his best chance lay in swimming ashore as soon as the boat drifted near enough. He took off his jacket and shoes, fastened them into a bundle under his arm, and, fixing his eyes on the lights on shore, quietly waited until they grew nearer. All at once a flood of black rain descended that blotted out everything. The wind seemed to blow from all quarters at the same instant, and the boat's head swung round. The lights both on sea and shore disappeared, and Archy was drifting he knew not where. He reflected that he was in no great danger of being upset, and if he drifted far enough he would be in the midst of the Spanish fleet. But in the darkness he had no idea how fast the boat was moving--he only knew the tide was swift and strong. Nor could he measure very well the time he had been in the boat. He listened intently for the striking of the bells in the little English squadron, but after straining his ears for an interminable time it seemed to him, as he sat in the little boat that rushed through the seething water in the blackness of darkness, the conviction came to him that he was far out of reach of that friendly and encouraging sound. He could see neither to the right nor to the left of him, and at that moment he had an almost overpowering impulse to jump out of the boat and swim, so trying were the sitting still and being swept he knew not where; but he said to himself: "If I were swimming about in the darkness, how glad I would be if my hand struck this boat--how eagerly I would climb in! No; I'll stick to the boat until I can see more than ten feet ahead of me." Ages passed, it seemed to him, for every hour is an age in such circumstances. He thought the day would never come. At last, when the dawn seemed as far off as ever--it was really only two o'clock in the morning--the rain ceased, and the atmosphere cleared enough for him to see that he was near the shore; and oh, joy! there was a light! He felt sure that he was far beyond the Spanish lines. As his sharp eyes pierced the dim and unearthly light, which was increased by the declining moon that shone fitfully out of a still stormy sky, he saw that he was on a broken and irregular coast, and a black mass, from which he could faintly discern the light, he took to be buildings. He saw that he was being carried closer to the shore every moment, and in a little while he was near enough to jump overboard, not forgetting his jacket and shoes, and a few bold strokes landed him once more on hard earth. His first impulse was of sincere thankfulness. One of the great lessons he had learned of his immortal commander, Paul Jones, was that man should recognize his Maker, and he had never seen that great man either go into or come out of any danger without commending himself to the Most High; and having done this, Archy proceeded to follow Paul Jones's example further by taking the most active and energetic measures on his own account. He saw that he was approaching a homestead, large and imposing, with numerous outbuildings, and when he was close to it he saw that the light came from a small addition to the main pile, which was built around a court-yard, after the Spanish fashion. Archy's quick mind had grasped the fact that if he spoke English he would at once be taken for either a spy or a deserter, and as he did not relish figuring in either of these characters, he determined to rely upon his small stock of French, and still smaller stock of Spanish, which last he had picked up while at Gibraltar. Wet and shivering, and carrying his drenched jacket and shoes, he cautiously approached the small, unshuttered window from which the light proceeded, and peered in. The room was very humble, apparently that of an upper servant. A lamp had been left burning, and on the hearth fire still smouldered. A wooden platter with some food on it was on the hearth. The room was quite empty, and Archy shrewdly suspected that it was, perhaps, the quarters of some privileged servant, who had gone out for a time, expecting to return, and had not come back. As food and fire were what he most wanted then, he concluded that it was the part of wisdom to help himself; so he softly raised the window and climbed in, only to find, on trying it, that the door was open, and he might have entered that way. He thought it best not to fasten either the door or window, but to proceed and make himself comfortable. A pile of fagots lay in a corner, and in half a minute he had a roaring fire. He had no great fancy for sitting in wet clothes, and seeing a cupboard in a corner, he opened it, expecting to find probably a footman's outfit. But, instead, there was a handsome and complete costume of a Spanish peasant--a green velvet jacket, brown cloth knee-breeches with silver buttons, leggings, shoes, and a red cap. Archy, promptly stripping off his drenched clothing and hanging it at the fire to dry, after removing his money, watch, and pocket-knife, proceeded to array himself in the warm, dry garments before him; and then, surveying himself in a piece of cracked mirror on the wall, he could not suppress a grin, thinking: "I wonder what Pedro, or Sancho, or whatever his name is, will say when he finds I have appropriated his Sunday clothes!" In the same cupboard was a small skin of the sour wine used by the peasantry. Archy made a wry face over the uninviting draught, but drank some, and then cleaned the platter neatly of a vast quantity of garlic-and-onion dressed stuff, which he relished exceedingly--after which he felt quite himself again. He concluded to sally forth and make a reconnoissance of his position, and, closing the door softly behind him, was again under the murky night sky. In another small room he saw lights and heard faint sounds of carousing. The servants were evidently making a night of it. In the huge, dim court-yard a large leather-covered coach stood where the mules had been unhitched from it. While Archy was looking at this vast old machine he saw the door open from which the sounds of subdued merrymaking had come, and several servants sallied forth. Archy involuntarily opened the coach door softly and got in, and, the better to hear, he laid himself almost flat on the long and broad front seat of the coach, which was piled with cloaks and blankets, and through a crack in the leather curtain could see and hear everything. "I wish Don Miguel was not in such a hurry to start for Madrid in the morning. Going off before sunrise and travelling until dark doesn't suit my constitution," grumbled one of them. "Never mind, Pedro. That comes of living with grand people like Don Miguel de Lima. They are always more trouble than any others. Thank the saints that _my_ people are plain country gentlemen and ladies. _They_ don't travel any. They haven't been thirty miles from home in thirty years." Pedro, leaning up against the coach wheel, continued to grumble: "And Don Miguel, because he was bred in the army, likes everything done at double-quick. I don't believe he even takes a siesta. And he can't be worried and fretted into giving up his own way, as some masters and mistresses can. He is the coolest old martinet I ever saw--I don't believe the devil himself could disconcert him." The servants seemed to have no notion of going to bed, but continued to gossip in whispers. Archy listened with all his ears. Madrid! That meant liberty! If only he could get to Madrid with Don Miguel--but how could it be managed? At all events, he meant to strike out for the French frontier when daylight came--at the worst, he could only be caught and imprisoned again. Possibly he might lose his life--but Archy's was a mind which harbored hope and drove fear out of the window. He remembered his wet clothes by the fire, and dreaded to see Pedro or Sancho go towards the back of the house. It was cold in the coach. So Archy covered himself up warmly as he lay and awaited events. He never felt more wide awake in his life, but the warmth, the rest, the food, and the sour wine were too much for him, and he suddenly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. CHAPTER XIV It seemed but a few minutes afterwards, although it was really several hours, before Archy knew anything more, and then it was a jolt of the coach that waked him. His senses returned instantly, and he knew where he was. He kept perfectly still, and peeping through the crack in the curtain, behind which he lay, still covered up, he saw that they were travelling along the highway towards the dim mountain ranges. Day had dawned, and the sun was rising over a beautiful landscape, although it was still December. Six stout mules drew the unwieldy vehicle along at a slashing gait. Archy turned his head cautiously, so as to see without being seen, and perceived a stout, soldierly looking old man leaning back among the cushions and sleeping soundly, as his vociferous snores and snorts indicated unmistakably. "This is Don Miguel de Lima," thought Archy. "He will wake up presently, and I can introduce myself better if I am sitting up and conducting myself like an officer and a gentleman than in hiding here like a brigand." Archy then quietly slipped to his feet, and, setting himself back in the coach, calmly faced the old gentleman. But Don Miguel did not wake up soon--he snored and snorted and slept for a couple of hours more, and the sun was high in the heavens before he opened his eyes, and saw, as he supposed, a handsome young peasant, who had apparently dropped out of the sky, in the coach with him. Don Miguel fully sustained Pedro's account of his _sang-froid_, and after carefully examining Archy, and seeing at the first glance that it was not a peasant, but a handsome and soft-handed young gentleman, dressed, for purposes of his own, in peasant's costume, he said, in a tone of calm inquiry: "Well, sir?" Archy, giving the old gentleman a military salute, replied promptly in the best Spanish he could muster: "I believe I have the honor of addressing his Excellency Don Miguel de Lima. I am Midshipman Archibald Baskerville, late of the continental ship _Bon Homme Richard_, and now a prisoner on parole"--and then he added, "Americano." Archy got this far glibly enough, but when he wished to describe how he got into his present rig his Spanish was totally inadequate, and he took refuge in French; but his acquirements in that line running short, he dropped into English, and gave Don Miguel a very animated account of his adventures from the time he found himself in the boat until that moment. Don Miguel listened with the utmost courtesy and attention, and when Archy stopped for want of breath, calmly remarked, in Spanish: "Your narrative is very interesting, no doubt; but I have not understood one word of it. I only know Spanish and French." Archy, nothing discouraged, began again. He pulled out his watch and money, and that, with what he could tell about the boat and the loss of his clothes, and certain keen observations which Don Miguel made himself, convinced him that the young man who had suddenly rolled out from among the cloaks and blankets in the coach was what he represented himself to be. Archy could not but admire the cool courage of the old man, who took so debonairly the society of an unknown, who might be a robber or a murderer. Not a word more was spoken, while they rolled and bumped along the high-road, until twelve o'clock, when, reaching a little village among the hills, they stopped. Pedro sprang from the box, opened the door, and nearly fainted when Archy almost jumped into his arms. Archy then, bowing low to Don Miguel, thanked him ceremoniously, and saluted him as an officer. Don Miguel gravely returned the salute. At the inn Archy got something to eat, and, providing himself with a loaf of bread and a lot of cheese, struck out gayly on the highway towards Madrid. The day was bright, and the air, the space, the freedom, the exercise were exhilarating to Archy's active nature and sanguine temperament. The only thing that troubled him was that his friends at Gibraltar would be in distress about him. Probably at that very moment they were in deep grief, supposing him to be drowned. He remembered, however, the courtesy of the Spanish authorities in regard to letters, and determined at the next posting-house to write to Don Martin de Soltomayer, inclosing a letter to General Eliot and another to Captain Curtis. With this anxiety off his mind he trudged along cheerfully enough, shrewdly calculating that Don Miguel would overtake him, and possibly give him a lift. Many persons met and passed him, chiefly peasants in carts, and in about two hours he heard a tremendous clattering and jangling, and the coach with its six fine mules hove in sight. Archy, walking along the pathway, was intensely disappointed when it rattled on, with nothing more from Don Miguel except a bow in response to Archy's. But after it had passed it stopped, and Pedro came running back to say that his excellency desired to speak to the señor--for Pedro, too, had discerned the gentleman under the peasant's dress. Archy, secretly delighted, went up to the coach, and Don Miguel asked him where he was bound. "To Madrid, and thence to France." "Get in," said Don Miguel, briefly, and Archy got in. He thanked Don Miguel in his best French-Spanish, and then inquired about the next posting-house, where he could write a letter, mentioning that he had once met Don Martin de Soltomayer, and would endeavor to notify his friends of his safety, through Don Martin. "I know him well," replied Don Miguel. "Has his deafness increased?" "He was not deaf at all when I saw him," answered Archy. "Ah. Perhaps it was his eye that was failing him--has he but one?" "He had two when I saw him." By which Don Miguel discovered that Archy really knew Don Martin. They made no further stop until they halted for the night at an inn and posting-house. Archy wrote his letters, and finding that a courier for Gibraltar was expected in the next two days, felt relieved in his mind. He dared not spend any of his small amount of money in a room, and slept in the hay-loft. By sunrise he was on his way again, and, as on the day before, he was overtaken by the coach and given a lift. Stopping at a little town that day, Archy bought a couple of shirts, and, finding a bookstall, he invested a few copper coins in a Spanish dictionary and grammar. Reduced entirely to Spanish and French, it was surprising to him how magically he learned both, especially Spanish; and in a few days he found he could take care of himself very well in the Spanish language. Don Miguel and he conversed much then, and Archy could describe fluently, if ungrammatically, and interlarded with French, the fight of the _Bon Homme Richard_, and many other incidents which established his identity as an officer and a gentleman with an experienced man of the world like Don Miguel. He carefully avoided any reference to Gibraltar, and when Don Miguel asked him how he got into the open boat, Archy floundered so in his effort to tell about it in Spanish that Don Miguel could not make head or tail of it--which was just what Archy desired. It cannot be said that either was bored with the other's company. Don Miguel retained a taste for adventure, and was secretly amazed at Archy's coolness, gayety, and boyish bravado, while Archy had sense enough to show both gratitude and respect to a man who had really helped him as had Don Miguel. On the morning of the day when they expected to reach Madrid, Don Miguel asked Archy what his plans were. "To go to the French Ambassador, declare myself, and ask to be sent to France." "The French Embassy is closed on account of small-pox, so I have heard in the last few days. But I can easily introduce you to the Minister of Marine, who will investigate your case." "May I ask how long this would take, Excellency?" Don Miguel shrugged his shoulders. "A month--two months, perhaps. The Minister of Marine will not be hurried." Archy sat silent, and reflected. Presently he said: "With these clothes, and the little money I have, I believe I could get to the French frontier in half the time." "Do you expect to be taken for a Spanish peasant?" asked Don Miguel, with a suspicion of a smile. "No," answered Archy, smiling very broadly. Their last halt was at a large and flourishing village near Madrid. Some sort of a _festa_ was going on; everybody was out in holiday clothes, and a company of strolling mountebanks was giving a performance. There were slack and tight rope walking, and dancing dogs, and a conjurer who ate fire. Don Miguel, while the mules were baiting, sat in his coach in the little public square, but Archy had to be in the midst of things. He wandered about, and mixed with the village people, who, in their turn, mixed with the strollers, all being upon the most informal terms. After the tight-rope performance a trapeze was set up, and a harlequin, all in tights and spangles, came out and gave an alleged athletic performance which delighted the audience, but sent Archy into fits of laughter. The midshipmen on board the _Bon Homme Richard_ and those on the _Royal George_, who were accustomed to run all over the rigging a hundred and fifty feet from the deck, could discount this unambitious gentleman, thought Archy, and as he commonly gave expression to what was in his mind he said this out loud. "Do you think so?" replied the person to whom he made this indiscreet remark. "Perhaps you will show us something much better than that which we like." "No, I thank you," replied Archy. "It is not in my line to do such things in public." A group had gathered round him, and a chorus of jeers and sneers went up. The effect of this on Archy Baskerville may easily be imagined. He tore off his green velvet jacket, kicked off his shoes, and, springing on the trapeze, began a performance which was certainly far superior to the professional's, although not up to Archy's best form when on board ship. He swung by his feet, his knees, his chin; he made a spring and reached the wire, which was only a few feet above the trapeze. He worked rapidly along the wire by his feet and hands until he came to the end, which was fastened to the stone balcony of a tall building with a chimney. By that time the people were applauding frantically. He shinned up the front of the building by the windows and balconies, and, reaching the chimney, climbed to the top and squared himself off astride of it with his hands in his pockets. It was not nearly so high as the maintop-gallant yard of the _Royal George_, where he had often been. The people at this went wild. Women shrieked and implored him to come down, and when he turned to come down they shrieked louder than ever. It would have been a dangerous pastime for any one except a sailor; but in a few minutes Archy had dropped to the ground, and, putting on his jacket and shoes, went up to Don Miguel, who still sat in the coach as unruffled as ever. "You are a very venturesome young man," was his only comment. "Oh no, sir," answered Archy; "that is the sort of thing we are taught aboard ship. A fellow that couldn't run all over the rigging would be in a bad way. I wager my friend, the acrobat yonder, couldn't do it." The crowd quite surrounded the coach then, much to Don Miguel's disgust, who ordered them away. All left except one man, who was the manager of this band of strolling acrobats. He could not be persuaded that Archy was not a professional acrobat, in spite of his evidently being on terms with the grandee in the coach. He beckoned Archy a little way from the door of the great lumbering vehicle, and whispered in his ear: "What will you take to join us? We are on our way north, perhaps as far as the Basque Provinces. I see you have been in the business, and we shall do well in the North. What will you take, I say?" Archy looked at the man as if he were crazy, but in half a minute he began to see the matter in a new light. To the North--to the French frontier; that would be quicker and better than waiting indefinitely in Madrid. And if it leaked out that he had come from Gibraltar he was sure to be regarded with suspicion by the Madrid authorities. "How long do you expect to be on the road?" he asked, under the influence of these new ideas. "About two weeks. We shall only give performances in the large villages and towns. We want to reach Vitoria and St.-Jean-de-Luz by the middle of January, as they have _festas_ about that time; and then we can come southward again before the Carnival. What will you take, I say?" "How many of you are there?" "Myself and my wife--she tells fortunes; Juan, who does the tight-rope; and Luis and his wife--they are all. What will you take for your services?" "One-eighth of the receipts," said Archy, not knowing in the least whether he was making a good bargain or not, except that here was a chance to reach the frontier. "Done!" cried the manager, joyfully. Archy went up to Don Miguel and told him what he had done. An inscrutable smile came into the old man's face. "Do as you like," he said; "I shall not betray you. On the contrary, I will give you Spanish money for your English money, and this--for I see you have no weapon." He fumbled about in the coach and produced a pistol, singularly small for those days. "This looks like a toy, but it is not; it was made and given me as a curiosity." Archy thanked him feelingly, and found enough words in his vocabulary to say that Don Miguel's confidence was even more gratifying to him than the kindness and generosity he had received. And sunset saw Don Miguel rolling along alone in his coach into Madrid, while Archy, duly enrolled as a member of José Monza's company of wonderful acrobats, was trudging along, with a pack on his back, towards the tent in the fields which meant home to all of them. CHAPTER XV Behold our young friend, having travelled from the southern coast almost to Madrid with a Spanish general of the highest family, now prepared to make the rest of his journey to France as a member of a company of mountebanks! His first introduction into this new profession was anything but pleasant. As soon as they arrived at the tent, where the two women, Maria and Julia, were cooking supper, José opened a chest and took out a tawdry and dirty costume, which he proposed that Archy should wear. Now the green velvet jacket, the brown breeches with silver buttons, and the yellow gaiters of a peasant had gone hard with Archy, but at least they were clean, and this acrobatic costume was not. He looked at it, sniffed at it, and finally, in a volley of Spanish and French, declared he would not wear it. That came near losing him his engagement. José swore that wear it he must; Archy vowed that wear it he wouldn't. Maria, José's wife, solved the difficulty by saying: "See, it makes no difference--it is too small for him, anyhow." Then they all calmed down, and ate supper very amicably out of a large pannikin of something or other which tasted violently of onions, leeks, and garlic. Next morning early they took up the line of march. Among José's possessions was a stout horse, by name Bébé, which José regarded as by far the most important member of the company. When hitched to the rude cart which transported their belongings, Archy thought there was still room for the two women; but, to his surprise, Maria and Julia toiled along contentedly, each with a pack on her back, while the three men carried nothing. Archy had nothing to carry except his shirts and his two books. Naturally, he was very much disgusted with the want of chivalry of the gentlemen of the party, and offered to help both of the ladies with their burdens. But they scarcely understood what he meant by his offer, and laughed at him for it. They showed their good-will to him, though, by proposing to wash his shirts for him, which he thankfully accepted, and afterwards astonished them very much by the frequency with which he called upon them for this service. By the time the day's march was over, Archy found that he had fallen in with a very honest set of people, although rude and unlettered. Next day they reached a small town, and gave their first performance in the public square. The wire was stretched for the tight-rope walking, and José shrewdly fastened it to the balcony of a tall building with a chimney, not unlike the one near Madrid where Archy had first appeared in public. Maria, disguised as a gypsy, sat in the tent, which was decorated with bunting, and told marvellous fortunes to the gaping rustics who were credulous enough to cross her hand with silver. Luis's performance on the trapeze was considered fine, and was much applauded; and when he got through, José, as general director of affairs, advanced, and, ringing a huge bell to secure silence, began an oration which surprised Archy as much as anybody. "Ladies and gentlemen," he cried, "you will now see a marvellous performance by Señor Archibaldisto de Baskervilliano, a distinguished Indian gentleman from North America. Señor Archibaldisto was once a sailor, and as all the vessels in his country have masts as high as the spire of Seville Cathedral, it is nothing for him to dance the bolero on the top of yonder chimney. He is the heir to immense estates, and his father is a grandee of the first class in North America. But having been stolen in his youth, he adopted the acrobatic profession, and has performed with great applause before all the crowned heads of North America." Archy bowed modestly in response to the tremendous applause which this evoked, and began his trapeze performance. As he was now endeavoring to do his best, and as he had practised in the last day or two, he acquitted himself to the delight of the people, and when he repeated his performance of shinning up the chimney, although he could not dance the bolero on top of it, he went through with some gymnastic performances which charmed the crowd. When their afternoon's work was over, and Julia handed around her apron for contributions, José divided the money with perfect honesty among them, and Archy's one-eighth was somewhat more than he expected. As José had promised, they pushed on rapidly, only giving performances in the larger villages and towns. Luis, without the slightest professional jealousy, taught Archy the bolero, and he was able to introduce the national dance of Spain in some of his exhibitions. He also taught José many things, and in a little while their joint performance so charmed José that he began to try and persuade Archy to return to Madrid with them, and was quite disgusted when Archy only laughed at him. Archy was sometimes surprised at his own happiness on that journey. The travel was fatiguing, the fare rough, the work hard; but it was under the open sky, he was with honest people, and he was travelling towards freedom. He had lost all fear of being arrested for an Englishman, but, as it turned out, that danger still remained, and eventually came near to cost him dear. On the tenth day from Madrid they reached Vitoria, and gave a performance in the quaint old town. José made his harangue concerning Señor Archibaldisto, dwelling upon the fact that he was a sailor by profession. The crowd was made up, as usual, of villagers and peasants; but Archy observed a group of three or four persons, one in the dress of a notary, which seemed of a better class. Archy did better than usual even, the crowd applauded vociferously, and Julia, going about holding her apron out, soon had it heavy with copper coins. The notary, a keen-eyed fellow, was saying quietly to his companions: "This Señor Archibaldisto is an impostor--that is, he is a gentleman. Look at his hands; they are sunburned, but no more out of shape with work than a fine lady's. And he is an Englishman. I have been in England and I know them. He is no North American; the North Americans are Indians--black, like the Moors. Listen to his Spanish. He speaks rapidly, but incorrectly, and I know the English accent. Depend upon it, he is an English spy--probably from Gibraltar." This was enough. A cry went up from the notary's companions, of which the crowd quickly caught the meaning, and then, like a pack of wolves, they howled: "A spy! A spy from Gibraltar! An English spy! Garrote him! Let him be garroted!" Archy was standing on the ground near the open door of the tent where Maria was telling fortunes. As he heard this ominous cry he turned to go into the tent, but José met him at the door. The Spaniard's face was black with hate. "You are an English spy!" he hissed. "I swear to you I am not--I swear before God that I am not a spy!" cried Archy. José barred the way for a moment, but suddenly Maria, who had seemed nothing more than a beast of burden, rose and pushed him out of the way. "Come," she said to Archy, for the crowd was now closing around them menacingly. Maria spoke to José in a clear, high voice, audible over the enraged murmurs and shouts and cries of the crowd: "Do you call yourself a Christian, and stand by and let this honest boy fall into the hands of these blood-thirsty people? José Monza, I am ashamed that you are my husband!" José, stunned by this declaration of independence from the submissive Maria, could do nothing but turn his head from side to side, with his mouth gaping wide open. Maria, albeit her wits were newly found, had them all about her, and whispered to Archy hurriedly, as she dragged him in the tent: "While I am talking with the crowd in front, slit the tent behind, and dash through the crowd. There is a church-yard to the left--you will know the spire of the church because it is the only white one in sight--and to-morrow morning before daylight we will come to the church-yard." Then she advanced to the tent door, and, shoving José out of the way as if he were a bale of goods, began an animated harangue to the people, who gathered around the door to hear her, but interrupted her every moment with demands for the English spy. In another moment Archy had cut with his pocket-knife a long slit in the tent, had sprung out, and was flying down a narrow and tortuous street. Immediately the mob was in full cry after him, but all at once he seemed to sink into the ground before them. He had caught sight in his flight of an open trap-door leading into one of those underground shops so common in Spanish towns; he dropped noiselessly into it, pulled the trap down with him, and heard hundreds of feet trampling as the multitude rushed on in pursuit of him. As soon as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness he saw there was no one in the shop. There was another room behind it, which opened into a garden. Feeling sure that the proprietor would be back in a very short time, Archy realized that he must be getting away very shortly. He slipped through the back room, ran up some crazy steps into the garden, and to his delight he saw through the gathering gloom the white spire of which Maria had told him. The garden door was locked, but the key hung on a nail inside. With this he let himself softly out, and found himself in a narrow passage with garden-walls on one side and the back windows of houses on the other. It was quite dark in there, and he sped along unseen until he reached the end, and before him were the ivy-covered walls of the church-yard. It was but a moment's work to climb over. This being done, he hid himself behind a huge old mausoleum under a grove of ilex-trees; and then he felt safe. He could hear the cries and the patter of feet dying away in the distance, and soon all was still; darkness came on quickly and perfect silence reigned, broken presently by the mellow ringing of the Angelus bells. Then all was quiet again. Archy was cold and hungry, but he did not allow this to disturb him. The black shadows cast by the ilex-trees made him quite invisible under their low, overhanging branches, and he spent the whole night walking up and down to keep warm. As the first gray light of the coming dawn appeared his listening ears caught the sound of some one creeping outside the wall. He quickly clambered over, and there was Maria with a huge empty basket, which she put on his back, and together they trudged rapidly off in the direction of the high-road. "Remember," said Maria, "if we are stopped you are to be my brother; you are too old to be my son, and too young to be my husband." "I think it an honor to be related in any way to so good a woman as you, Maria," gallantly replied Archy. On the outskirts of the town they found the rest of the party with the cart and Bébé, and by hard travelling from dawn until midnight they reached the Bidassoa, the boundary between France and Spain. They encamped on the French side of the river, and after a rest of a whole day and night they set out for St.-Jean-de-Luz. They were now on French soil, and Archy's heart bounded with joy and hope and gratitude. At St.-Jean-de-Luz he had to part with his humble friends. He had enough money to take him to Paris, travelling economically, and his late experiences proved to him that his own good legs would enable him to get there even if his money gave out. Before parting they gave two grand performances, in which Archy quite outshone himself, and they took in a considerable sum of money. With his share Archy bought some little memento for each of his kind friends. José and Maria not only had the pain of parting with Archy, but also with Bébé, that they had determined to sell for about twice his value. Their only consolation was that they had sold him to one of the woman postilions, common enough in those days, who plied between St.-Jean-de-Luz and Bayonne, and Archy was to ride Bébé the day's journey between the two places. The farewells were touching. All the men kissed Archy, after the Spanish fashion, and he kissed Maria and Julia, and thanked them from the bottom of his heart--particularly Maria, to whom he felt he owed his life. Maria wept bitterly, and Archy said to her, with the greatest sincerity: "Maria, as long as I live, whenever I see or hear of a good woman I shall think of you." At last he was started on his journey. On Bébé's broad back was one of those queer double saddles which were then used in the Basque Provinces. Archy sat on one side, while on the other was perched a stout Basque woman, Teresa by name. Being a sailor, Archy was perfectly willing to ride anything in any manner, from a goat to an elephant, and always at full speed. Teresa claimed jurisdiction over the horse, but this Archy would by no means admit, and just as they were passing through the market-place he gave Bébé a smart cut with a knotted handkerchief, and the next thing he knew he was floundering amid the ruins of a wicker chicken-coop, the frightened fowls clacking and flapping wildly, while a dozen market-women were abusing him at once in French and Spanish; and Teresa, loud above all, was haranguing him on his cruelty to poor Bébé, the horse, that did not seem to Archy as much an object of sympathy as himself. He was disentangled from the coop and the fowls by two handsome Basque girls, who, however, lost all favor in his eyes by laughing at him openly. Very sulky and disgusted, he mounted again, and Teresa guided the stout Bébé out of the town and along the road to Bayonne. Archy counted that day as among the most unpleasant of his life. Teresa alternated with laughing at him and scolding him. In a rage he dismounted and walked, when Teresa, whipping Bébé into a fast trot, caused Archy to run after her frantically for fear he should never see either Teresa or Bébé again. When they reached Bayonne that night they parted with mutual sentiments of disesteem. The rest of his journey to Paris was uneventful, and on a February evening he found himself standing at the door of the large, pleasant house, set in an ample garden at Passy, which M. Ray de Chaumont had generously given to the American representatives. Archy's heart beat rapturously. He scarcely expected to meet Paul Jones, the most he hoped for being to hear that the Commodore was somewhere on the French coast. But just as he raised the knocker and gave a thundering rat-tat-tat the door opened, and he almost walked into Paul Jones's arms. "My captain!" cried Archy. "My brave little midshipman!" exclaimed Paul Jones; and they embraced, and Archy was not ashamed of the happy tears that filled his eyes. And then Paul Jones held him off at arm's-length, and cried: "How you are grown! And how handsome you are! And what adventures have you had? And, faith! how glad I am to see you again!" They heard a clear voice behind them saying: "This, then, is the lost Pleiad--the young gentleman who was picked up by the British at the Texel." It was Dr. Franklin who spoke. Archy turned to him and involuntarily removed his hat--so noble, so venerable was this august man. "Come, Commodore, you do not want to go now. You and your young friend must remain to sup with me," continued Dr. Franklin; and Archy, almost abashed by the honor shown him, proudly and delightedly accepted. Never could Archy Baskerville forget this first evening in the company of those two extraordinary men. Dr. Franklin's dry and penetrating wit, his acute reasoning, would have impressed the dullest intelligence; while Paul Jones, whose schemes were great and far-reaching, had plans in view well calculated to dazzle an ambitious young mind like Archy Baskerville's. Nor was he entirely silent. He felt, of course, under a strict obligation to say nothing about the condition of Gibraltar, but he told of the unyielding courage of the garrison, of the fortitude of the women, and of the many noble and admirable incidents that had occurred; he actually found himself telling the story of throwing the peacock down the skylight upon the Hanoverian officers, and the old Genoese woman being blown through the window. He was so much encouraged by Dr. Franklin's laughter and Paul Jones's that he told of his journey through Spain, his career as an acrobat; he even related the story of Teresa, the double saddle, and his fall into the chicken-coop, and some of his other adventures. But when Paul Jones questioned him about Lord Bellingham, Archy could not refrain, in the boyish vanity of his heart, from recounting some of the various duellos at wit in which he and his grandfather had been engaged--and he only related those in which he had come out ahead, like the affair about his American uniform. Paul Jones shouted with laughter, while Dr. Franklin quietly chuckled. At last, about ten o'clock, Paul Jones made ready to return to Paris, saying to Archy: "You must share my lodgings, Mr. Baskerville. I am afraid to trust so adventurous a young gentleman out of my sight." And Archy delightedly accepted. And now came a time more easy and brilliant in some respects, and more harassing and anxious in others, than Archy had ever known. He lived with Paul Jones in his Paris lodgings, and, like him, his time was passed between anxious journeys to L'Orient, to find new difficulties among the _Alliance_ and the _Ariel_ and their crews, and vexatious and annoying transactions with the French Minister of Marine. Paul Jones was a favorite at Versailles and in the highest society in Paris, and he was glad to take with him in those dazzling palaces a handsome and dashing young officer like Archy, who now wore a splendid continental naval uniform, and who enjoyed the glitter and splendor of all he saw. But, like Paul Jones, he would have hailed with joy any prospect of getting away from this glittering but useless life into the real service of his country. Of course the subject of Archy's exchange was at once taken up. All the officers of his rank captured on the _Bon Homme Richard_ had been already exchanged, so that he had before him the dreary and tedious business of trying to arrange an exchange with some young army officer of the same rank in America. The summer came and waned, as did the autumn, and no headway was made in his affair, nor in the greater affair of Paul Jones procuring an armed ship, which was continually promised but never forthcoming. The gloomy prospects of the American cause at that time made it daily more unlikely that he would get a ship. Paul Jones's spirits sank, and so did Archy's. They remained more closely at their lodgings, and the scenes of splendid gayety which they had frequented a few months before saw them no more. Only Dr. Franklin, serene and majestic, lost neither heart nor hope. One night in November, 1781, Paul Jones and Archy sat together in their lodgings, which were close by the house of the Minister of War. Never had they felt so despairing of their country. They knew that both Sir Henry Clinton and Lord Cornwallis had been reinforced in America, and that Rodney's fleet was on its way there to strike a mortal blow to the fleet of De Grasse, from which much had been expected and nothing had come. Besides these sad thoughts, Archy's heart was heavy when he thought of his friends at Gibraltar. Were they still living and starving? Or had they at last found rest in death? The fire burned itself out, the candles flickered in their sockets; midnight came, yet neither made any move towards going to bed. Archy felt a singular restlessness in spite of his misery--he felt in the attitude of one waiting for something to happen. At last it came, at one o'clock in the morning. Far up the stony street they heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs going at full gallop. "It is an official messenger. He is stopping at the hôtel of the War Minister," said Archy, in an intense whisper; and the next minute he tore down the three flights of stairs of the tall house in which they lodged, unfastened a window in the _entresol_ and jumped out, instead of waiting for the _concierge_ to be waked up, and found himself speeding along the street, and Paul Jones, neither so young nor so active, not far behind him. Windows were being opened, people were collecting hurriedly on the streets, and a little crowd already stood around the steaming horse from which the messenger had just alighted and had disappeared within the doors. In an upper window on the first floor of the splendid hôtel a light quickly appeared--the War Minister was receiving the news. The crowd below waited, some in breathless silence, others exclaiming and gesticulating in their excitement, and every moment the people increased in numbers. Presently the window was flung up, and the War Minister, with a white nightcap on his head and a dressing-gown wrapped round him, put his head out and raised his hand for silence. Instantly every voice was hushed. "Good news--great news--from our allies in North America! On the 19th of October, at Yorktown, in Virginia, Lord Cornwallis, with all his force--guns, stores, and several vessels--surrendered to General George Washington, in command of the joint forces of America and France. _Vive l'Amérique!_" Before the crowd could shout, a sudden, wild cry of joy went up from a young man and an older one who stood together, clasping each other, with tears running down their faces. The French might cheer and huzza in their triumph, as they did, waking up the entire quarter of Paris, and causing an outpouring of the whole population, but the patriotic joy of Paul Jones and Archy Baskerville was too deep for words. Theirs was a passionate thanksgiving which could only be expressed by Paul Jones as, uncovering his head, he said, reverently: "Let us bless the good God for his mercies to our dear country!" CHAPTER XVI The surrender of Lord Cornwallis was admitted to be the practical end of the war. The English people, as a mass, rose up and declared that the strife must end. Parliament, it was known, would not vote another shilling for soldiers or ships for America. The Ministers gave up in despair, and even George III., the most obstinate king of which history makes any record, saw that he must yield. The attitude of the English people and Parliament was known in Paris by the middle of December, and at once ended the projects for the fitting-out of hostile ships for America, and likewise for the exchange of the few American officers in Europe who were on parole. With the end of the long and obstinate conflict in view, they had to exercise a little more patience and wait for the formal preliminaries of peace in order to be unconditionally released. One of the first letters that Archy received after the great news from America was from his uncle, Colonel Baskerville. It said: "There is no longer any question of a renewal of hostilities. I have it on authority that the Government is considering an armistice and the appointment of plenipotentiaries of peace, and the only delay in the way is that the Colonies cannot make peace without France, nor can France make peace without Spain and Holland--and Spain means to make one last desperate effort to regain Gibraltar. But I will leave it to your friends, Dr. Franklin and Commodore Jones, whether there is any chance of active employment for you, and if there is not, I beg that you will come to England under a safe-conduct to see your grandfather. You have no relatives in America, and nothing can be arranged concerning your future until peace is declared and the navy of the Colonies is reorganized, or rather established, for they have nothing which can be called a navy at present. I understand that the arming and equipping of such few vessels as the Colonies can get together is now totally abandoned. Meanwhile your grandfather is extremely desirous to see you for a very special purpose. He is an old man, and may not long survive; and if you once cross the ocean, there is but little likelihood of your return during his remnant of life. Therefore, if your friends, who are older and more experienced than you, think that you can come with honor, pray do so. Your safe-conduct will enable you to return at any time to either France or America. You will certainly not be called upon to fight any more, and the emergency of the case justifies me in urging you to come." Archy showed this letter to Paul Jones and to Dr. Franklin, and, after both had considered it, they advised him to go. "My impression is, Mr. Baskerville," said Dr. Franklin, "that Lord Bellingham wishes to make some arrangement about his estates; and although you are under age, and have no guardian--and you say that your father united with your grandfather in cutting the entail--yet he may want to make you some amends, and I recommend you to accept the safe-conduct and go." Paul Jones, with whom Archy had lived for many months, talked with him long and confidentially, and his advice was of the same tenor as Dr. Franklin's. "Nothing will be easier," he said, "than for me to arrange with the Minister of Marine to notify you if, by any chance, there should be a resumption of hostilities; and meanwhile you will be better off with your own relatives, especially such a man as you represent Colonel Baskerville to be, than alone in Paris, for I may leave for America any day. And you know very well, my dear Archy, that both our purses are low, and are likely to remain so until the _Bon Homme Richard's_ prize-money is paid over, and Heaven knows when that will be. I have great confidence in you, but for a young man to be alone and living by his wits in a city like Paris would test the integrity of the finest young man in the world. True, Dr. Franklin remains; but he is often in straits for money, and you could scarcely expect him, with his vast cares, to take upon himself the charge of confidential friend, adviser, and banker of a young man like yourself. So, I say, go to Bellingham Castle, and if your grandfather will do the handsome thing by you, so much the better. I have not the slightest fear that you can be beguiled from your allegiance to your country by any blandishments Lord Bellingham can offer." "That I cannot!" cried Archy, with energy; "and I will show him I cannot." Nevertheless, it was not with gayety of heart that Archy prepared to take his friend's advice. He almost wept when he bade farewell to Paul Jones on the morning that he took the diligence for Calais, and was rather hurt by his old commander's laughing air and gay manner at the moment of parting, until Paul Jones said: "Perhaps I may see you in England myself. True, I believe there is a standing offer of ten thousand guineas for me, dead or alive; but did not Captain Cunningham, who also had a price upon him, take his vessel into an English port and refit? And I have had a fancy to see England ever since I was honored with so high a price upon my head." A light broke in upon Archy's mind. "I see! I see!" he cried. "Very well; all I can say is that if the people molest you there is Admiral Digby, at the Admiralty, who will defend you." "But the people will not know that I am Paul Jones," significantly replied the Commodore. "I grant you, if I went in my proper character I should see only the inside of Newgate Prison; and as I wish a more extended view, I would do better not to tell my name and adventures. I say this to you: we shall meet again in England." This started Archy off in high spirits, and he already began to plan concealing Paul Jones at Bellingham Castle. His cheerfulness lasted until he began to think of his "enemies" at Gibraltar. Were they still alive? There was no news from the Rock except that it still held out stubbornly, and that before Spain was forced by her allies to sign a peace she meant to make one last desperate and unprecedented effort to regain that mighty fortress. However, nothing could damp his happiness at the splendid prospects of his country, and, elated with the idea, he easily persuaded himself that everything concerning everybody he loved would come right. This happy conviction, which was partly justified by circumstances and partly accounted for by youth and health and motion along a fine high-road on a bright morning, inspired him to raise his voice in song; but as he sang very badly, and the guard laughed at him, he concluded to try some other form of amusement. He had the box-seat, and having a little gold still left in his belt he slyly insinuated a piece into the hand of the coachman, who, in return, passed him over the reins. But a few jolts and bumps, a growl from the postilion, and a sharp volley from the guard, together with a chorus of shrieks from several nervous old ladies inside, caused the coachman to resume his job hurriedly, much to Archy's chagrin. This was but a temporary damper, and he proved a very lively companion all the way to Calais. They arrived in the afternoon, just at the turn of the tide, and with a favorable wind for the Channel Islands, where Archy meant to go. There was a guardship, he knew, stationed off the island of Jersey, and if he could get to her he knew there was constant communication with Spithead. As soon as he got to Calais he at once reported to the authorities, who, on the strength of his safe-conduct, directed him where to find a boatman. He soon found one with a tolerably large boat, who agreed to take him for a moderate sum to the British guardship. The boatman was as anxious not to lose the wind as Archy, so in an incredibly short time they were off, and before midnight, by the light of a brilliant moon, they made the island of Jersey. As they sighted the guardship they hoisted for a flag of truce a sheet which Archy had bought at a Calais tavern. They were suffered to come alongside--a small sailboat with two men not being alarming. Archy handed up his credentials in a small bag tied to an oar, and after they had been sent to the captain for inspection, and returned as being all right, he was asked to come aboard. In a few minutes he was on the deck of the guardship, and the little boat had tacked for France. The reception he met with from the officer of the deck, and subsequently the captain, was rather chilling. The British people, as a whole, had opposed the war, but there were many persons, especially in the army and navy, who regarded the Americans still as traitors. Archy's first question was well meant, but unfortunate. He eagerly inquired of the captain if there was any news of Gibraltar. "News of its fall, I presume you mean," was the captain's brusque reply. "No, sir, there is no news of that--and will not be. The enemies of England need not expect those gallant men to yield. Gibraltar will remain ours." Archy had so long been accustomed to regard Gibraltar as the abode of his friends that he was a little staggered for a moment, but recovering himself, he said, with dignity: "Sir, I was a prisoner at Gibraltar for nearly a year, and I was so kindly treated by the brave garrison that, although they were the enemies of my country, I could not but consider them as personal friends, and my question was inspired by the most sincere solicitude for them." Even this did not melt the captain's icy manner, and his next words were an offer to let Archy sail next morning in a tender that was to carry despatches to Spithead. The invitation was given so like an order to kick him off the ship that Archy promptly accepted it--and as promptly declined a rather cool invitation to accept a berth. He returned to the deck, and selecting a sheltered corner under one of the boats, wrapped himself in his cloak, used his portmanteau for a pillow, and in a little while was sleeping the sleep of the just, the young, and the healthy. At daylight he was aboard the tender. It was a mild January morning, and the good breeze of the night before still held. When they came within sight of the splendid British fleet in The Downs, Archy could not repress a sensation of envy. Could but his country have the half of such a fleet! The journey from Spithead to Yorkshire was not very pleasant. Archy, like most hot-headed young persons, was fond of airing his opinions and proclaiming his beliefs in season and out; and, armed with his safe-conduct, he enjoyed an immunity that he had never known before. He swaggered on his way, announcing with vast pride and belligerence that he was an American; he inquired for news concerning the surrender of Cornwallis wherever he judged it would be most annoying; he entertained sulky English travellers with accounts of the fight between the _Serapis_ and the _Bon Homme Richard_ whenever he had the chance; and when he did all this without getting a broken head he rashly concluded that it was due to his own superior wisdom; and, in short, conducted himself in such a manner that in after-life he often bitterly regretted that he had not been well thrashed for his behavior. Being naturally good-tempered, he was much surprised when people took offence at remarks that amused him but were exasperating to others, and he always assumed the air of a much injured person when called to account for his impertinence. He travelled over the same road from London to Bellingham Castle that he had taken more than two years before, and he really began to look forward with pleasure to seeing his grandfather again--so strong is the tie of blood when once acknowledged. Colonel Baskerville he thought of with the greatest affection; and when, at the same hour of the evening that he had first arrived at the village, the coach rolled in and he saw his uncle waiting for him at the door of the inn and posting-house, Archy's heart beat with joy, and, jumping down, he seized the staid Colonel in an embrace that very much surprised and startled him. And his very first remark, after asking affectionately of his uncle's health, was to proclaim, with an air of triumph: "And, nunky, what do you say to General George Washington now?" "I say that he is a very remarkable man," good-naturedly replied Colonel Baskerville; "but from your tone and manner of confidence and arrogance I imagine that you yourself contributed largely towards the result of Lord Cornwallis's surrender"--which almost brought a blush to Archy's sunburned cheek. Lord Bellingham had sent the coach to meet Archy, much to his amusement, as well as Colonel Baskerville's, and as they were bumping along the road through the park the Colonel said, smiling: "Grandsons are all the rage now. Lord Bellingham has actually condescended to admit that he had a grandson in the continental navy, but he continues to speak of your commission as if your holding it were a mere boyish escapade." "He does, does he? Poor grandfather! He will know better before he is much older." "I will say to you, frankly, that Lord Bellingham mortally hates the idea of the title lapsing; and if you will agree to accept it, and to cease to be an American, no doubt your grandfather will make you his heir. But if you stick to your country, as you call it, I am equally sure that Trevor Langton will be the heir--that is, if he is alive, for the latest reports from Gibraltar show that although the loss of life from the bombardment is small, there is an epidemic of fever and scurvy, and, naturally, we are all anxious about Trevor Langton. It is piteous to see his poor mother." Archy remained silent, distressed by what he had just heard, and Colonel Baskerville continued: "Langton's mother, my niece, is now staying at Bellingham--the first time her father has recognized her since her marriage. Her two daughters are with her--Mary and Isabel--fine, handsome girls they are." "If they are anything like Trevor they must be everything they ought to be, for he is the finest fellow: so brave, so gentle, so quiet--so unlike me." Colonel Baskerville smiled again at this, while Archy went on to explain that he and Langton knew the status of affairs perfectly well. "When we were in the hut at Gibraltar we often talked it over, but it never made the least difference between us. I am an American, and shall remain so, and Trevor will get the money; but I'll never want for it while he lives, and you know I have enough to keep me in clothes and food, candles and fuel, anyhow." Presently they rattled up to the great pile of Bellingham Castle. But how different was Archy's reception from his first visit! Lord Bellingham had developed a whim, or possibly something better, of liberality and large-heartedness, and it had impelled him to open his house, send for his daughter and her children, and receive Archy in a manner calculated to please a much older and better-balanced person. Lord Bellingham, with all his faults and freaks, was not without feeling. Archy's spirit, intelligence, and strong personal resemblance to Lord Bellingham in his youth had softened the old man's heart. He felt a natural desire that the title should remain in his family, which could only be done by Archy's accepting it. At first he had regarded his grandson's unwillingness to give up his citizenship in his own country as a mere boyish impulse; but he had become convinced that it would take all his powers of persuasion, and all that could dazzle a young and impressionable mind, to induce the boy to become a subject of a king who was so well hated by Americans. Nothing, however, was to be lacking in the way of subtle flattery, and for that reason Archy's reception was imposing. The great hall doors were flung wide open as soon as the coach drew up; an army of servants in livery were drawn up on each side of the entrance, the men on one side, the maids on the other, and Lord Bellingham, elegantly dressed, as usual, and looking like a prince--and, what was more, like a prince in a good-humor--greeted Archy with stately cordiality. "My grandson! Welcome to Bellingham." A man quite as fastidious as Lord Bellingham might have felt pride and pleasure in the beautiful young man before him. Archy's figure had filled out, his handsome features had not lost their natural, joyous expression; but instead of his boyish confidence he had gained a manly self-possession, and the likeness to his grandfather in every respect had become simply astounding. In Archy Lord Bellingham saw himself in the brightness and the glory of his youth, and it did not make his heart less tender towards this handsome grandson. Archy greeted him affectionately, and then came forward Mrs. Langton, who was just what Archy thought Trevor Langton's mother should be, and who met him and kissed him with all the affection of a mother. Mary and Isabel were two tall, handsome young girls, the most self-possessed creatures that Archy had ever seen, who, instead of dropping their eyes and curtseys at the same time, looked him full in the face with laughing glances, and were not nearly so ready to take him on trust as their gentle mother. Archy's first eager words on greeting her were: "Have you heard anything of Langton?" Mrs. Langton's eyes filled with tears. "Not one word direct for nearly two years. I know from your letters to my father and uncle much that happened at Gibraltar while you were with him, but the last word I had from my son was when Admiral Rodney's fleet left Gibraltar in the March of '80." Archy's heart went out to his aunt, as it had done to Mrs. Curtis, and always did when sweet and motherly women were kind to him. But his heart did not go out to his cousins, Mary and Isabel. They looked at him loftily; they seemed disposed to treat him as a bandit and an insurgent, and evidently regarded his connection with their brother as his only title to consideration; in short, they were a good deal like Archy himself, and for that reason they did not affiliate very promptly. As Archy looked around him after the first greeting, he could scarcely believe it the same place that he had known two years before. Instead of a simple dinner served in the little dining-parlor for Colonel Baskerville and himself, the great dining-hall was thrown open, and a splendid dinner was served to the family party of six--Lord Bellingham leading his daughter out on his arm, with his antique courtesy. The younger, prettier, and saucier of his cousins, Isabel Langton, fell to Archy's share. "Dear me," remarked Isabel, looking critically at Archy when they were seated at the table, "I had no idea you were so old." "Nineteen is not old, my dear," responded Archy, in a tone as if he were addressing Dolly Curtis, who was ten. "Isabel!" said her mother, in a warning voice. "Let them alone, ma'am," remarked Lord Bellingham. "I think my grandson can take care of himself." Mary, seated on Archy's other side, now came to her sister's rescue, while Colonel Baskerville, with a grin, prepared to enjoy seeing the young ones having it out, hammer and tongs. "My sister is not accustomed to such familiarity as 'my dear' from strangers, even if you are a cousin," she severely remarked. "Mary!" was Mrs. Langton's next protest. "Isn't she?" said Archy. "I beg a thousand pardons. The last little girl I had much to do with was a darling of ten years old--Dolly Curtis--and I used to ride her on my shoulder and steal apples for her from the stores; and I thought, perhaps, you and your sister--but never mind." Isabel and Mary took refuge in silent indignation, exchanging wrathful glances; Mrs. Langton looked distressed, Colonel Baskerville highly amused, and Lord Bellingham's handsome old face was quite impassive. Archy, as if to show that Isabel and Mary were quite too childish to have any claim upon the attention of a young man of nineteen, then turned to his grandfather and said, airily: "By-the-way, sir, the conduct of Captain Curtis at Gibraltar is second only to that of General Eliot, and we Americans congratulate ourselves that these two officers were not in Virginia with Lord Cornwallis. It might have delayed the surrender considerably." An electric shock ran round the table at that. The old butler quietly removed a decanter that was handy at Lord Bellingham's elbow, and Mrs. Langton looked ready to faint. But, to everybody's amazement, after a moment's pause, Lord Bellingham suddenly smiled; his laugh was quite silent in contrast to the happy ripple that had been his throughout youth, and which he had lost during a long course of selfishness and bad temper. Then Colonel Baskerville shouted, and Mrs. Langton smiled, and Archy, with a fine assumption of addressing two very small children, remarked to Mary and Isabel: "Haven't you heard the news, my dears? Lord Cornwallis, on the 19th day of last October, surrendered his whole force to General George Washington. Didn't know it, eh? It's a shame that you are kept so cooped up in the nursery that you never know what is going on in the world"; and then even the two girls laughed while they scowled. The dinner was very jolly after that. The girls continued to snap at Archy, and he gave it them back in his best style; but it was good-natured snapping, and it so amused Lord Bellingham and Colonel Baskerville that Mrs. Langton not only permitted the girls to defend themselves, but she even smiled faintly at the scrimmage. Nevertheless, when Archy and Colonel Baskerville were parting for the night, Archy said, in a grave manner: "I can hardly believe, uncle, that those pert misses are Langton's sisters. They need to be sent to a good stiff boarding-school to bring them down a peg or two." "They are as much like you as girls can be like a boy," was the Colonel's cool rejoinder, "and that is why you do not fancy them." CHAPTER XVII Lord Bellingham soon began the systematic effort to induce Archy to give up his country for which he had, in truth, been sent for from France. But everything united to make against his scheme. While the time never had been that Archy would have abandoned his country and her cause, he was still less likely to do so in the hour of her triumph, when the English people had forced the King and his Ministry to abandon a fratricidal war. And the association for many months with two such men as Paul Jones and Dr. Franklin was not calculated to make any young and impressionable mind less American in its belief and sympathies. Nor was the splendid bait offered by Lord Bellingham half as attractive to Archy as it would have been to a young man of less adventurous life and habits. Full of an enthusiastic democracy, he rated the title as nothing at all; and as for the estates, it may be said to the honor of humanity that money has but little weight with a manly and generous nature in the freshness of youth. Archy really would have liked to own Bellingham Castle if he could have transported it to America, but he would cheerfully have given all the mediæval castles in England for one good ship of the line, and would have thrown in Westminster Abbey as a makeweight. And because little things as well as great things influence people, Lord Bellingham could not have devised a better way to defeat his own object than in bringing Archy in contact with his two cousins, Isabel and Mary. These two high-spirited young ladies were as determinedly English as Archy was aggressively American, and the result was warfare, in which quarter was neither asked nor given. Not one of the three was bad-tempered, so that, in spite of their continual bickerings, there was an odd sort of sympathy among them, the sympathy which comes from a community of tastes and amusements, which made them seek each other's society, apparently for the purpose of expressing their disesteem for each other's opinions--Mary and Isabel on the one side, and Archy on the other; Mrs. Langton vainly striving for peace, Colonel Baskerville an impartial umpire, and Lord Bellingham secretly diverted at the cut-and-come-again style in which his grandchildren disputed. But he grew grave one day when he came upon them engaged in an exciting discussion on the issues of the war in America, which Isabel ended by saying, loftily: "At all events, we sha'n't be mortified by hearing you express such opinions in public, for you know grandpapa can't take you about the country visiting with him, because a great many people would not recognize you. They call you a rebel." "Do they?" wrathfully replied Archy. "I'll give them to understand, then, that I'd rather be an American and a rebel--yes, by Jove! a rebel against tyrannical kings--than to be heir to Lord Bellingham's title and estates. And that I will show them, too!" "I hope you will stick to it," said Isabel, tartly, "for it is a pity to have the estate go out of the family, and Trevor will get it if you don't. Dear Trevor!" Isabel, who was tender-hearted in spite of her high spirit, could not keep the tears out of her eyes at the mention of Trevor's name, and Archy, too, was softened, for he answered: "Hang it, Isabel, why do you say such maddening things? If you were not Langton's sister and your mother's daughter I would serve you as William the Conqueror did the Princess Matilda--roll you in the mud until you cried _peccavi_," at which Isabel smiled in a superior manner. She was so tall and strong that William the Conqueror would have had trouble rolling her in the mud. Lord Bellingham moved away in a thoughtful mood. He began, for the first time, to realize that he might possibly not succeed in buying up his grandson--a reflection which he had hitherto refused, even in his own mind, to consider a possibility. However, fate was preparing a delicious revenge for Archy upon his two cousins, and it took a form which not only gave him ecstatic pleasure at the time, but sufficed him for chaffing the two girls during the residue of their lives; and this is how it came about. The spring had passed, the fall of the Ministry had made it certain that the American war was practically over, and the summer came and waned. But it was not like summer weather, and on a certain August night the air was so sharp upon the northern hills and moors that a fire was not unpleasant in the great hall at Bellingham Castle. Lord Bellingham sat before it, with Mary and Isabel taking turns in reading the London newspapers to him. The news they contained of the abandonment of hostilities was not very agreeable to either of the girls, each of whom punctuated her reading with her own opinions, very much after Archy's manner. Lord Bellingham listened, smiling instead of scowling. The society of his daughter and of his grandchildren had certainly changed the old man's temper and manners, if not his disposition. Presently Lord Bellingham asked: "Where is my grandson?" "Indeed, I don't know, grandpapa," replied Mary. "He is the most restless creature I ever saw. He cannot sit down and be quiet and placid like an English gentleman; he must always be off on some sort of an expedition." Lord Bellingham smiled again. He knew that the instant Archy entered the doors the three young people would gravitate together, although to say a civil word one to the other was strictly against their code. "There he is now," said Isabel, as steps were heard, and the porter came out from his corner to open the doors. Instead of Archy, though, there entered a slight, well-made man, of about thirty-five, with a plain but striking face, in which glowed a pair of singularly beautiful black eyes. He was dressed in a handsome riding-suit, and had an air and manner of distinction. "Is Mr. Archibald Baskerville here?" he asked; and then, seeing the old man and the two girls sitting at the other end of the vast hall in the glowing light of the fire, and the waxlights on a reading-stand, he advanced, removing his three-cornered hat and making a profound and graceful bow, first to the two girls and then to their grandfather. Lord Bellingham, who had seen much of men and things, recognized in an instant that he saw before him a person of distinction, and, rising from his chair with much dignity, he returned the salutation with a courtly inclination. The stranger then spoke in a softly modulated voice, in which there was occasionally a slight hesitation. "I believe I am addressing Lord Bellingham, and--" he paused and looked towards the two girls, whose height and beauty made them appear much older than their sixteen and seventeen years. "My granddaughters," said Lord Bellingham, with a wave of his hand. The stranger made another bow, so elegant that the two girls summoned all their grace to return it properly, and then, accepting the chair which Lord Bellingham indicated, he continued: "I venture the liberty of calling to see my young friend, Mr. Baskerville. I trust he is still here." "Mr. Baskerville is not at present under this roof, but we are expecting him in momentarily," replied Lord Bellingham. "Mr. Baskerville is my grandson, and I beg to introduce myself as Lord Bellingham." "I wish, my lord," replied the stranger, with dignity, "that I could respond to the courtesy you show me by introducing myself. But the exigencies of the times are such that I am compelled to forego, for political as well as personal reasons, giving my name. Mr. Baskerville, however, will recognize me as an officer and a gentleman." Now, Lord Bellingham was not addicted to making friends with strangers, but he was so captivated with his unknown visitor's air and manners and speech, and his curiosity was so aroused, that his answer was in a very courteous tone: "These are, indeed, troublous times, and I am more than willing to take my grandson's friend on trust. I may hazard, however, in spite of your excellent English, that you are a Frenchman, or a Spaniard perhaps, who finds himself in England, and whom prudence requires that he should conceal his name." "I am neither French nor Spanish," coolly responded the stranger. "I was born in Scotland. But I have lately come from Paris." "How are affairs there, may I inquire?" "In a very singular state," replied the stranger. "With an autocratic government, and little sympathy between the court and the people, the court ardently espouses the cause of democracy in the case of the American colonies." "And the King and Queen will rue it," energetically cried Lord Bellingham, bringing his slender, ivory-headed cane down to emphasize his remarks. "They are teaching their people rebellion against kings, and they may pay the penalty by being driven out of their own bailiwick." The stranger, as if not caring to pursue the subject further, turned and said, in a manner at once flattering and respectful: "May I be permitted to observe that these two charming young gentlewomen remind me strongly of her Majesty Queen Marie Antoinette; and in proof of this, allow me to show you this." He drew from his bosom a very beautiful miniature of the Queen, set in brilliants, with her monogram, and handed it to Isabel. There was, undoubtedly, a likeness between that fair, haughty face and the faces of the two handsome young English girls, with their abundant blond hair, their brilliant blue eyes, and their short upper lips, like the Austrian. Mary and Isabel smiled delightedly. It was something to be told they looked like the Queen of France, and that by a gentleman who had been honored by the gift of her portrait. The miniature at once established the stranger in Lord Bellingham's mind as a person of consequence, and he was already deep in the good graces of Isabel and Mary. His conversation further prepossessed them in his favor. Quiet, modest, and without dragging in the names of the great, it was easy to see that he had moved in the best society of Paris, and by his frank comment upon persons and things he showed he was not in slavish subservience to it. He spoke of the King and Queen with gratitude and affection, but on the subject of the administration of the military and naval affairs of France he showed something approaching bitterness and chagrin. Lord Bellingham was deeply interested in the conversation of so accomplished a man; but Isabel and Mary, whose lives had been spent in seclusion, were perfectly infatuated with him. They thought him a duke, at least, and even whispered to each other, under cover of their grandfather's sonorous conversation, that the stranger might prove to be the Comte d'Artois, that younger brother of the royal house of France who was celebrated for milking the cow so beautifully at the Little Trianon, and who was the best dancer on the tight-rope in Paris. Nearly an hour had passed in conversation when, with a bang, the great hall door came open, and Archy and Colonel Baskerville entered, just home from a long ride. The stranger rose instantly, and, facing the door, held up a hand of warning. As soon as Archy's eyes became accustomed to the glow of the fire and candles, he uttered a cry of joy. "My--" captain he was about to say, when he caught sight of Paul Jones's uplifted hand, and the word was checked in time. But, rushing forward, the two met and clasped each other rapturously, and in that warm embrace some whispered words were exchanged which caused them both to smile delightedly as they returned to the fire with their arms around each other like two school-boys, instead of being a captain and one of his junior officers. Lord Bellingham and the two girls were amazed at the warmth of the meeting, and more puzzled than ever to make out the identity of their mysterious visitor. Not so Colonel Baskerville. He surmised in an instant that it was Paul Jones. "Grandfather," cried Archy, "I cannot tell you the name of this gentleman whom I have the honor to call my friend, but I assure you that Bellingham never sheltered a more honorable and deserving man." "I believe you," replied Lord Bellingham, with dignity, "and as I have already accepted him upon his own representations, I can do no more on yours. Perhaps your friend will remain the night with us?" "Unfortunately, no," replied Paul Jones, "with sincere thanks for your lordship's goodness. I have been two weeks in England, and to-morrow morning, early, I must embark. I have ordered post-horses from the village for twelve o'clock to-night, which will get me to the coast before this time to-morrow." "Uncle," then said Archy, turning to Colonel Baskerville, "will you not, on my assurance, shake hands with my friend?" "Certainly," responded Colonel Baskerville, offering his hand, and saying, in a low voice, which Lord Bellingham did not catch: "With a surmise which amounts to a certainty as to who he is." Supper was now ordered in Lord Bellingham's room, and when it was announced, all four of the gentlemen arose. Mrs. Langton had sent a message asking to be excused, so Isabel and Mary were to go to their mother. As they rose, Paul Jones made them another of those captivating bows which had charmed very great ladies, much less two innocent and unsophisticated young girls, and they returned it with curtseys which almost brought them to the ground. And then a strange thing happened. Archy suddenly doubled up with silent laughter. Lord Bellingham had preceded them and was now passing through the library door, so that he could neither see nor hear what was going on behind him. Paul Jones looked surprised until Archy whispered in his ear: "My cousins profess to detest Americans!" A smile suddenly illuminated his dark face, while Colonel Baskerville, like Archy, seemed to be excessively amused at the profound curtseys of the two young girls. "Dear ladies," said Paul Jones, who was famous for making headway with the other sex, "may I not have the honor of kissing your charming hands, as a memory to carry away with me of the two most beautiful maidens I have ever known outside my native country?" And Isabel and Mary, blushing and smiling and nothing loath, extended their hands, which Paul Jones touched with his lips in the most respectful manner. As they sailed gracefully off, Archy seized Colonel Baskerville, who wore a sympathetic grin, and whispered, convulsively: [Illustration: "ISABEL AND MARY EXTENDED THEIR HANDS TO PAUL JONES"] "Uncle, this is more than I can stand. I shall certainly explode when I think of Isabel and Mary--and--o-ho!" Archy went off into spasms of laughter, which lasted until he was seated at the table directly under Lord Bellingham's stern eye. And even then, with all his pride and delight in his old commander, Archy was secretly convulsed when he anticipated the revelation of Paul Jones's identity after he was out of the three kingdoms. He felt no fear for his brave commander; he knew that few men united the greatest boldness with the most consummate prudence as Paul Jones did, and was perfectly sure that after having escaped capture in the two weeks the great captain had been in England, he was little likely to be caught between Bellingham and the coast. Lord Bellingham had promptly surrendered to the charm of Paul Jones's conversation, and listened with profound attention to all he had to say, as did Colonel Baskerville. Paul Jones gave much interesting information about affairs on the Continent, but with so much tact that no one would have suspected the active part he had taken in many of the incidents he related. He sat, the wax light falling upon his clear-cut face and deep and speaking eyes, one knee carelessly thrown over the other, and his brown, sinewy hand involuntarily seeking the hilt of the dress sword that he wore, according to the custom of the time. Lord Bellingham was in his most gracious mood, but the more fascinated he was with the conversation of his new guest, the more profound was his curiosity to find out who the stranger was. The personal history of Paul Jones was little known at that time, and his announcement that he was born in Scotland did not enlighten Lord Bellingham in the least. In vain he framed adroit questions; Paul Jones's answers were more adroit still. Lord Bellingham, with an inscrutable smile upon his handsome old face, listened and watched, and was at last compelled, after four hours of close conversation, to admit to himself that he had utterly failed to penetrate the stranger's disguise. A few minutes before midnight Paul Jones rose. "My horses are now due from the village," he said, "and I must leave this hospitable roof. Will not you, Mr. Baskerville, go with me one stage on the road?" Archy accepted delightedly. The whole party then, Lord Bellingham included, came out in the cold and gloomy hall, where the fire had quite died out, to bid the guest farewell. Colonel Baskerville said good-bye with great courtesy, and added: "I beg to say that I offer you my hand with full knowledge, I believe, of your name, and character, and rank." Paul Jones's expressive eyes glowed with pleasure. Many English officers refused to recognize him on account of his having adopted the American cause, although born in one of the British Isles, and the respect of such a man as Colonel Baskerville was peculiarly gratifying. "I thank you most sincerely for your generous recognition; it is the mark of a just and liberal mind. And to you, sir," said Paul Jones, turning to Lord Bellingham, "I do not know whether you would extend to me the same hospitality you have this night if you knew my name. Every motive of the most ordinary prudence requires me to keep it secret the brief time I am in England. Yet, as a slight testimony to my belief in your generosity, I will say to you that I am Paul Jones, captain in the continental navy." And the next moment he had passed through the great doors, descended the stone steps, and his post-chaise was rolling rapidly off with himself and Archy inside. CHAPTER XVIII "Now, tell me, my captain," cried Archy, "what I have been longing to ask--what brought you to England?" "A desire to serve my country. Knowing that I must soon return to America, and hoping that one of the first things which will engage the attention of Congress will be the organization of a navy, I determined to find out all I could about the English dock-yards. For this purpose I landed at Plymouth two weeks ago. I managed, by means I cannot now reveal to you, to inspect the dock-yards at Plymouth and Portsmouth both, and I have in my head a complete knowledge of the methods by which the British navy is built, armed, manned, and victualled; and this information I shall lay before the Marine Committee of Congress as soon as I return. I have also a complete list of every ship in the British navy, with the rating, metal, boats, officers, and men, when and where built, and present station and employment. How I got it goes with me to the grave, a secret.[1] Meanwhile, it became advisable for me to get away from England as soon as possible. I found all the ports in the south of England were watched, but I played with my enemies by taking post for Yorkshire. The captain of a Portuguese vessel, which lay at Gravesend, was to call at Bridlington for a part of his cargo, and I persuaded him, by the promise of a considerable sum of money, to wait for me north of the Humber for three days. He is probably there now, and he is to land me in France. And now for our mutual adventures." "Your's first, of course." And then Paul Jones began and gave Archy a clear account of how things were going, as nearly as he could tell, in America. It was then Archy's turn, and he told with great relish of Lord Bellingham's efforts to induce him to become a British subject, of Colonel Baskerville's unvarying kindness and wisdom, of Trevor Langton's brilliant prospects, in case he were alive. "I hope he may still be living; but I heard through a well-informed person in London that sickness was making fearful inroads upon the garrison. I remembered your cousin's name, and asked if there were news of him. It seems that the Duc de Crillon is most generous in allowing news of individuals, and I was told that he had lately had a severe attack of fever, and it was not known whether he was alive or dead." This was distressing news for Archy to hear. He was silent a few moments, and then said: "I will mention this first to my uncle, and leave it to him whether he will tell my aunt and cousins and my grandfather. It will break his mother's heart if Langton is--" Here Archy stopped, unable to continue; but after a while he recovered himself, and began to take his usual cheerful view of Langton's chances. "He may be as well as you and I are at this moment, so I will not allow myself to fear for him. And now, will you advise me for myself?" "I can only repeat to you the advice I gave you in Paris. If I saw the slightest danger of your being beguiled into giving up your country, I would wish you to leave England at once. As it is, I see that Lord Bellingham is most kindly disposed towards you; and you are much better off until affairs have finally settled themselves with him, and especially Colonel Baskerville, of whom I have formed a high opinion. Remember, you are still, technically, an officer on parole, and so you will remain until peace is signed. I recommend, both for your interest as well as your real welfare, to remain with your relatives until you are quite free. I am glad to see that you have some domestic influences. It is well for a young man who has no mother or sisters to have the association with some one else's mother and sisters--and if the mother of those sweet and modest girls be like them, you are fortunate." Archy had not thought he could laugh so soon after hearing of Langton's supposed illness, but at the recollection of Mary's and Isabel's gratification and delight at being noticed by Paul Jones, Archy burst into laughter, long and loud. "If you could but hear us quarrel! My cousins are, as you say, sweet and modest; but they hate everything connected with our cause, and when I tell them that it is you--" Paul Jones joined in Archy's merriment, so that the postilion thought the two gentlemen inside had lost their minds, they laughed so much. They reached the first and last stage--a village on the coast--at daylight. From thence Archy was to return to Bellingham in the post-chaise. Dawn was breaking over the German Ocean, and the east glowed with a soft radiance that was turning the sky to an exquisite rose-color, and was presently to break into the splendor of the sunrise. Few vessels dotted the sea, but near the shore lay a Portuguese brigantine, which Paul Jones at once recognized. Afar off, the pile of Scarborough Castle frowned over the sea. Paul Jones's eyes sparkled, as did Archy's, when they looked seaward. "It was yonder," cried Paul Jones, "that we fought the _Serapis_. Under those waves rests what was left of the gallant old _Bon Homme Richard_. Yonder is the sea on which I struck one good and ringing blow for my country!" "And made the name of Paul Jones immortal," replied Archy, feeling his heart swell at the sight of the man who had earned so much glory on that spot. The parting was painful for both, although they expected to meet shortly in their own liberated and victorious country; but it was brief. The brigantine sent a boat ashore, and almost before Archy realized that he had said good-bye to his friend and captain, Paul Jones was aboard, and the brigantine was stretching out to sea with a fair wind. Archy turned towards the little public-house where the horses were baited, and ordered some breakfast for himself. He felt dazed. It seemed to him as if weeks separated him from the same hour the day before. After getting his breakfast he went to the chaise, while the horses were resting, entered it, and fell sound asleep. He did not stir until noon. By that time the horses were being put to, and they took the road for home. Archy, who was a good sleeper, dozed nearly all the way, but he was disturbed by troubled dreams and thoughts of Langton. However, when in the dusk of evening he drove up to Bellingham he was quite wide awake, and not all his anxieties for his friend could wholly damp his glee at his prospective triumph over Mary and Isabel. He had no fears as to the manner in which Lord Bellingham would receive him after knowing the name of his mysterious guest. His grandfather would never on earth admit that he had been hoodwinked in any way, and no matter how chagrined he was he would put a bold face on it. But Isabel and Mary! Archy rushed in the hall and found them sitting around the fire as they had been the previous evening, with the addition of Colonel Baskerville and Mrs. Langton. "Grandfather," bawled Archy, quite unable to moderate his exultation, "do you know who it was you entertained last night? Ha! ha!" "Perfectly," replied Lord Bellingham, with a cold smile. Archy felt rather flat, and looked reproachfully at Colonel Baskerville, who, he felt convinced, had robbed him of the pleasure of springing the sensation on his grandfather. But Mary and Isabel were left. Colonel Baskerville had not been cruel enough to deprive him of that delicious triumph over them. "Do _you_ know, Mary and Isabel?" he cried. "No," replied Isabel, "but he was so graceful and agreeable. We told mamma we were sure he is a man of rank." "So he is," shouted Archy, in reply. "And there was something so romantic about him," chimed in Mary. "When he showed us the portrait of Queen Marie Antoinette, we thought it might be possible--though I dare say it was foolish enough--that he might be the King's brother, the Comte d'Artois." At this Archy capered with delight. Colonel Baskerville whispered something to Mrs. Langton, who started with surprise, but who laughed in her gentle way at the little comedy being played by Archy, whom she had learned to love, and Mary and Isabel. "At all events, he was very civil," announced Isabel, "and I am sure I hope he liked the way we curtseyed. Oh, how easy it is to tell persons of rank and birth." "Indeed, that is true," Mary echoed; "and I dare say, cousin Archy, your friend is very much opposed to these extraordinary American sympathies and notions of yours." "Do you want to know who he is?" shrieked Archy, joyfully. "Do you want to know, I say? He is Captain Paul Jones, of the continental navy--so much for his rank; and as for his birth, he is the son of a gardener. O-oo-ooh!" Archy's yells of rapturous laughter fairly made the roof ring, and it was so infectious that even Lord Bellingham burst into a cackle--the nearest approach he ever made to audible laughter. But it was no laughing matter to Mary and Isabel. They sat as if paralyzed, looking blankly at each other, and quite stunned by the magnitude of the mistake they had made. Mary gasped out: "Paul--" And Isabel added, faintly: "Jones." And then, unable to stand the laughter, in which even their mother joined, while Colonel Baskerville haw-hawed openly, they flung out of the hall and rushed up to their rooms, where, locked in each other's arms, they wept bitterly from pure chagrin. All this was bliss to Archy, but serious thoughts were lurking in his mind. He took the first opportunity to speak to Colonel Baskerville alone without attracting observation--and that opportunity did not come until bedtime, in the Colonel's own room. Then he repeated what Paul Jones had told him of Langton's illness. "Poor lad! poor lad!" said Colonel Baskerville, pacing the floor. "I never saw him, but in my heart I love him. I think, with you, it is best not to tell his mother of this new anxiety, but it would be well to let Lord Bellingham know. As Captain Paul Jones says, the Duc de Crillon is most chivalrous in permitting communications with the garrison at Gibraltar respecting individuals, and there might be means, through Lord Bellingham's influence at the Admiralty, to find out something about Langton." Next morning all the members of the household were surprised when they found that Lord Bellingham's solicitor had arrived from York at an early hour. Archy surmised that the solicitor had been sent for in regard to making Lord Bellingham's will, and was not surprised, during the course of the afternoon, to be invited to his grandfather's room. Lord Bellingham thought he had made up his mind to make Langton his sole heir, but Archy had so won upon his pride and ambition, which took the place of a heart with him, that he could not forbear one last appeal to him. When Archy, so frank, so manly, so handsome, stood before him, Lord Bellingham yearned to make him the heir; and for that purpose assumed a dignity and sweetness of manner which he possessed, but rarely exhibited. Although Archy's determination was too firm to be shaken, he realized that Lord Bellingham could be, when he chose, a very persuasive man. Lord Bellingham used every argument, and one in especial was peculiarly touching to Archy, while not convincing. "I will acknowledge," he said, "after having been of another mind for thirty years, that I was unduly hard on your father. He was a better son to me than I was a father to him. Suffer me, therefore, to ease my conscience of its reproach to my dead son by helping me to give you your rights." Archy remained silent. He knew not how to put his refusal in words, but presently he rose. "Grandfather," he said, "I thank you for your justice to my father. He had his faults to other people, but he had none to me; and if I follow his injunctions I shall never disgrace him or you or myself. I feel sure, though, that he would advise me to stand by my country, and I must do it. But you have another grandson--at least, I hope you have--who is much more likely to fulfil your expectation than I am--Trevor Langton." All this was very pretty, thought Lord Bellingham, but it did not serve to give him his own way, which he dearly loved, and especially in this great and important matter. From the most winning mildness he suddenly changed to the blackness of wrath. He sat quite silent, beating the devil's tattoo on the floor, and suddenly burst out with-- "Hang it! I'll give you a thousand pounds and let you go back to your damned country!" "Thank you--thank you!" cried Archy, who inherited his grandfather's disinclination to acknowledge that he was disappointed. "A thousand pounds! I'll be glad to get a hundred, sir! And a thousand! It will buy me my outfit for the navy, when we get one, and leave enough to live like a prince on besides!" At which Lord Bellingham most unexpectedly found himself laughing, in his silent way, to see that what he had intended to be a miserable pittance should be received so debonairly by this unconventional youngster. "And now, sir, may I go and tell my aunt that you have cut me off with a shilling, so to speak--for I take it that Langton is to be your heir now, poor chap, if he is living?" "You may; and I say, you dog--I'll give you two thousand pounds." Archy dashed into Mrs. Langton's sitting-room, where, with Colonel Baskerville, Isabel, and Mary, she was anxiously awaiting the result of the conference. "Hurrah, aunt!" he cried, "my grandfather has behaved like a king. He has given me two thousand pounds, and the rest will be Trevor's. And now, Miss Mary and Miss Isabel," he added, maliciously, "I beg you to notice that I could have been as English as you if I had chosen, and could have been a lord to boot--but not I! If I can but get a lieutenant's commission in the American navy, I'd rather have it than to be Lord Bellingham of Bellingham Castle. Do you believe me now?" And even Mary and Isabel received the announcement with respect. Mrs. Langton kissed him tenderly, saying: "You are a noble boy, and I wish you were my son, too," while Colonel Baskerville shook his hand warmly. "You have done the very thing I could not wish you to do," he said, "but I must admit that you have acted the gentleman and the man of honor." Lord Bellingham showed that he was in earnest in sending for his solicitor to make his will, but the news they had just learned of Langton's illness made it important that it should be known whether he were still alive at the moment of disposing of so much property. Lord Bellingham showed the most intense eagerness. After having put off making his will until his old age, he then became morbidly desirous to make it; and at last, after many conferences with his solicitor and Colonel Baskerville, the Colonel hit upon a plan in his own mind on which he congratulated himself. He spoke privately to the solicitor about it before mentioning it to Archy or Lord Bellingham. "My nephew, Mr. Baskerville, has a safe-conduct from the French government which would easily enable him to go to Gibraltar by way of France. He could go there, find out whether Trevor Langton is alive or dead--alive, I trust and pray--and return in one-half the time it would take for an inquiry through the regular channels. I have no doubt he would go. He is at the restless age which, happily, does not last always; and besides, if he does this for Langton, it must meet with a reward from my brother besides the paltry two thousand pounds he has promised, or rather threatened, in his will. But not a word of this to my nephew. He is not without perversity, and besides, having done a noble and disinterested thing, however mistaken we may think it, he is too acute to sully it by trying to make interest with his grandfather afterwards." Lord Bellingham grasped eagerly at this, and, of his own volition, said: "I should not fail to remember this in making my testamentary arrangements." It was enough to mention the journey to Archy. The eyes of Europe were turned on Gibraltar. The moment was fast approaching when the last mortal struggle was coming between the dauntless garrison and the gigantic naval and military power of France and Spain, and no young man of spirit but would have been fascinated at the idea of seeing the climax of these great events. Archy could not start soon enough to please himself, and, within the week, had taken the road to London. He travelled in state, in Lord Bellingham's private post-chaise, which was to take him to London. He carried with him letters to Admiral Kempenfelt, who commanded the _Royal George_--one of the splendid fleet of thirty-four vessels that were being made ready at Spithead, night and day, for an effort to save Gibraltar--and numerous other letters, calculated to forward his journey to France under a flag of truce, and he had also a considerable sum of money in gold. He stopped but a day in London, to have his safe-conduct viséd at the Admiralty. Then he sent the post-chaise back with a long letter to his grandfather, and a short but affectionate one to Trevor Langton's mother. In this last, he actually forced himself to send his love to Mary and Isabel, but he could not forbear adding at the bottom: "P.S.--DEAR AUNT,--I hope my cousins are not pining away for Captain Paul Jones. He admires the ladies very much, but I do not think he has the intention to ask any particular fair one to share his glorious destiny with him. Break this gently to my cousins. "A. B." That very afternoon Archy took post for Portsmouth, and arrived there in a few hours. He went to the celebrated Angel Inn, and tumbled into bed, and was astir early the next morning to find a way of reaching the mighty and invincible Rock. FOOTNOTE: [1] Paul Jones did possess this list, and he never revealed the source of his information, which was supposed to be some one high in authority at the Admiralty. CHAPTER XIX The next morning, the 29th of August, 1782, broke clear, bright, and beautiful. A magnificent fleet lay out in the roads, and, towering among them, Archy recognized the _Royal George_, with her three great decks, her huge, broad-beamed hull, and her lofty masts. No one who ever sailed on this ship but liked her. She had a record of good fortune which made her a favorite with both officers and men. Her quarters were comfortable, and she was commonly thought to be a weatherly ship, although the terrible fate which was impending over her on that August morning made it a miracle that she had survived so long, for at that time she was the oldest ship of the line in the British service. Afloat and ashore, all was the orderly bustle and despatch of getting a fleet of more than thirty ships ready for sea in short order. Every moment was precious, but Archy saw for himself that much remained to be done, and it would be many days yet before the ships could be made ready to leave. About ten o'clock in the morning he hired a small boat and put out to the _Royal George_. As he neared her, he saw her great hull slowly and almost imperceptibly careen on the starboard side, by which he was approaching her, and, presently, a gang of men in slings were let down over her port side. Archy knew very well what that meant. Something was to be done to her hull below the water-line, and as the day was perfectly still, without a breath to ruffle the dead calm of the water, the ship had been heeled over to save time, instead of the more tedious process of being put in dry-dock to have the work done. Soon the sound of ripping planks off and the noise of hammers and chisels echoed over the water. A swarm of little boats were gathered around the monster, and her decks were alive with people. Forward was a crowd of women and children, families of the men, who were allowed on board for an hour or two, as all work was suspended while the ship was being heeled over. The ladder was over the starboard side, and as Archy, on reaching the ship, ran lightly up it he felt a strange joy at again touching the deck of a ship; and, with the joyful expectation of youth, he fancied that in a little while the American navy would possess a whole fleet of noble ships like those he saw around him. As he stepped over the side the officer of the deck was standing close by, and, on Archy's explaining that he knew Admiral Kempenfelt and had a letter for him, the lieutenant called the Admiral's orderly, and in a few moments Archy was shown into the great cabin. "Ah, my young friend, happy to see you!" cried Admiral Kempenfelt, rising from his table, where he was writing, and shaking Archy's hand cordially. "So it seems, from Lord Bellingham's letter, which I have glanced over, that you have had some adventures since I saw you last." "Yes, sir," replied Archy, smiling, and returning the Admiral's kindly grasp. "But not the sort I want. The _Seahorse's_ people seem to have ended my fighting career when they picked me up at the Texel nearly three years ago, and now that our countries are on the verge of peace, it looks as if I would never have another chance to do a little whacking on my own account." "Ah, that's the way with you youngsters; nothing but whack--whacking all the time. Wait until you get my age and you will love peace, as I do. I am heartily glad, though, that this quarrel with our late colonies is over. Not one-tenth of our people have been in favor of the war for two years past, and both sides have done enough now to come to an honorable peace. I have heard something of you since you have been in England this time. So you won't turn Englishman for Bellingham and all it carries with it?" "No, sir. Would you turn Frenchman for Versailles and St. Cloud, and the Louvre thrown in?" "No, hanged if I would!" Archy bowed and slapped himself on the breast, saying: "I perceive I am in good company, sir." "Well, now, Mr. Baskerville, let us see about getting you to Gibraltar before we get there. A vessel--the _Fox_--is now waiting for a wind to carry some French officers across, to be exchanged off Ushant. You could go very well in her, and, once in France, you can take care of yourself. I apprehend no difficulty in your communicating with your cousin. The Duc de Crillon is well known to be most courteous in conveying letters to the garrison, and even sent some delicacies to General Eliot, who was forced to decline them, and there is actually much polite communication between the two commanders-in-chief. I will myself give you letters to the Admiral, and to Captain Wilbur, of the _Fox_, which, I am sure, will secure you a berth in her." Admiral Kempenfelt took up a pen and began writing rapidly; but the cabin floor, which had been at an angle, was tilted still more, and his chair slid down, while Archy caught the table as it was slipping after the chair. "Deuced inconvenient, this heeling of the ship; but it saves time, and time is everything to our brave fellows at Gibraltar," and the Admiral calmly resumed his writing. But Archy was not so calm. He looked out of the cabin windows on the starboard side, and the nearness of the rippling water gave him a kind of shock. He tried to calculate the angle of the floor, which perceptibly became more acute, and a sudden apprehension flashed over him that the ship was over too far to one side--but he dared not speak. Meanwhile the Admiral went on calmly writing, threw sand on the two letters he had written, and after reading them over handed them to Archy. "There," he said, "I hope these will serve your turn. It gives me pleasure to do you a kindness, even if you are an enemy," and he placed his hand affectionately on Archy's shoulder. "May we meet again under happier circumstances: in peace, all our quarrels forgot, and nothing but good-will between us all--amen." Something in the Admiral's kind voice, the grasp of his manly hand, touched Archy's heart. The feeling of instant and dreadful apprehension had grown upon him in the few minutes that the Admiral continued writing. Every moment he hoped that the ship would be righted; instead of that, the floor became a more sharply inclined plane. Against her stout wooden walls he could hear the ringing of the carpenters' blows, and it sounded like a knell of death to him. He looked closely into Admiral Kempenfelt's eyes to see if there was any premonition of danger; but the Admiral seemed strangely unconscious of what so powerfully affected Archy, and although barely able to keep his feet on rising, gave no sign of fear that the ship might go over. Archy longed to ask the Admiral to go on deck with him, and even faltered out: "Will you not come above, sir?" "No," replied the Admiral, surprised at the suggestion. "I have work to do. Remember me to my friends at Gibraltar. Good-bye, and all good go with you." "If we do not meet again, Admiral," said Archy, in a voice which trembled a little, and then, all at once, the words he had meant to utter left him, and an overmastering impulse made him turn and walk out of the cabin as quickly as he could. Outside the door the orderly had braced himself against one of the quarter-deck guns. Something in the man's face arrested Archy's attention at that instant. There were strange noises about the ship, a dull reverberation like thunder, followed by a slight crash, and the men were running to and fro. "What is the matter?" asked Archy of the man. "Nothing, sir, except that the ship is heeled over too far; the guns have broken loose, and I believe in five minutes we shall all be under eighteen fathom of water," coolly replied the orderly. The appearance of the deck was far from reassuring. As Archy took off his cap in passing the officer in charge of the deck he observed the carpenter say a few words in a low tone to the officer, whose reply was perfectly audible. "If you know more about this ship, sir, than I do, you had better take the deck." Archy ran to the ladder. The platform was far under water, and on looking for his boat he saw the boatman about twenty yards off, pulling away for his life. "Come here!" shouted Archy. The man simply shook his head, pulled a little farther out, and then lay on his oars. Archy put his hand in his pocket and held up his purse. At that the boatman quickly picked up his oars, and, rowing as if his life depended on it, in a few minutes was alongside. Archy's conduct had not escaped observation. Several officers were walking about the deck, and, although they said nothing, their faces were grave enough as they leaned over the rail and watched the boat, into which Archy sprang while it was yet several feet away from the half-submerged ladder. "It wasn't the money for myself, sir, that brought me back," gasped the boatman, as with tremendous strokes the boat shot away from the leaning hull of the ship; "but it was worth while to try for my wife and family. That there ship is in the most dangersome way I ever see a ship. One puff of wind now will send her over." "Lay on your oars," said Archy, watching with painful interest the mighty hull on which the hammering and pounding sounded preternaturally loud. The perilous position of the ship was plain to the whole fleet, and every eye was turned towards her. On several of the ships near her the order was quietly given to stand by to lower the boats. In the stillness of the August morning every sound could be heard, and on board the _Royal George_ was much noise. The women and children forward were laughing and chattering with the sailors, and every moment a burst of loud laughter showed that the men were enjoying their little holiday time. The noise of the workmen striking the hull was incessant, but above all there would come the frequent ominous sound of a gun that would break loose from its fastenings and roll down the inclined plane to starboard. The officer of the deck continued to walk up and down in what seemed to every eye that watched him an almost insane ignorance of the danger of the ship. The boatman turned to Archy and said: "I see the carpenter go up to him once afore, but he didn't take no heed. I dare say the carpenter won't ax him no more." However, at this moment the officer turned and disappeared below. Thousands of eyes were fixed upon the _Royal George_ in agonizing apprehension. Archy, in uncontrollable agitation, cried aloud: "Why don't they haul the guns back? The ports are all open, and if she heels a foot more she is gone. Oh, God!" For the _Royal George_ was slowly, inch by inch, heeling over more; and at the same instant, afar off, the bright water grew dark with an advancing wind--the wind of death--which stole towards the great ship softly and silently. Suddenly the people on board the doomed ship seemed to realize their peril. The officer of the deck reappeared and ran quickly aft. The crowd forward stopped its shouting and singing and laughing; the sharp blare of the boatswain's pipe was heard, calling all hands on deck--but it was too late. The towering hull gave one lurch as the wind struck it, the awful shriek of a thousand voices smote the air, and in another moment, with a roar that was heard for miles, the _Royal George_ went down, head foremost, in a black vortex of her own making. For a few minutes Archy was dazed and paralyzed with the horror of the sight. He saw the black and seething whirlpool made by the monster, with her hundred and twenty guns, her giant masts and spars, her huge anchors and cables, for one horrible moment upon the blue and sunlit water. He heard the roar of the rushing air through her ports, the thunder of guns and anchors breaking through the decks, and a frightful crashing, as if every mast and spar and deck in the ship had been splintered at once; and, worst of all, one wild shriek from twelve hundred souls, swallowed up with her; and never, to his dying hour, could Archy Baskerville forget that cry--a cry that haunted forever, night and day, all who heard it. It was only when it had ceased, when instead of the stately ship he saw a seething mass of waters where she lay a minute before, and where now a few human beings were tossed like leaves upon the water--it was only then that he came a little to his senses, and shouted to the boatman: "Give me an oar, and pull--pull!" In a little while they were among the floating bodies. The few minutes had somewhat sobered Archy. He still felt as if he were in some terrible dream, but almost without his own volition he began to act rationally. He threw down his oar, and, leaving the management of the boat to the boatman, stripped off his jacket, trousers, and shoes, and, plunging into the water, swam vigorously towards the first man he saw. As he got near enough he recognized the orderly who had been on duty at the Admiral's door. The man could not swim; but, although almost sinking in his heavy clothes, quietly obeyed Archy, who called to him: "Don't catch me around the neck--put your hand on my shoulder." He would have been hard to save, as his clothes were heavy with water, but the boat came alongside at that moment and he was hauled in. Archy cried to him: "The Admiral?" "Gone," briefly answered the marine. "He never left the cabin." Every ship in the fleet sent boats, and in half an hour all of the survivors were picked up, and then came a terrible reaction. The flags were half-masted, the booming of minute-guns over the water was heard, and the people on the ships and crowds that ran to the shore gave way to paroxysms of grief and horror. Even those who had lost no friend or relative, and they were few, were overcome with the dreadful shock of the disaster. Archy Baskerville's nerve lasted him until, with the boatman's help, he had handed the orderly and three other men they had saved over to the large cutter which was collecting the survivors from the small boats, and then he gave way to a perfectly hysterical burst of grief. Within an hour from the time that he had shown the utmost coolness and courage in saving life, he could only throw himself down in the boat and weep and sob like a nervous woman over the horrors he had seen. The boatman, his stolid face ashy pale, sat trembling, and presently said, in a thick voice, to Archy: "'Tis lucky, sir, that both of us wasn't took this way when there was something to do. I swear to you, sir, my arms is so weak I can hardly pull the boat ashore, and I know my wife is near wild with fright, and--and--I don't seem to feel that, nor nothin', sir." "Pull me to the _Fox_, and then you can go ashore and fetch my portmanteau," said Archy. All he wanted then was to get away from that dreadful spot. The _Fox_, a small gun-brig, was then getting up her anchor, as the wind was increasing, for which she had waited, and her orders admitted of no delay. As Archy came over the side of the brig, the men, with white, set faces, were walking around the capstan in silence, the creaking sound painfully audible. The officers, mute, and, as Archy could see, many of them as shaken as he, were standing about the deck, and as Archy handed Captain Wilbur--a stern, weather-beaten man--Admiral Kempenfelt's letter, on which the ink was scarcely dry, he tried to speak, but he could only say, "Admiral Kempenfelt," and burst into tears. Captain Wilbur lifted his cap as he took the letter, and then turned aside, to conceal his agitation. Presently he spoke in a low voice: "Everything shall be attended to at once. I will send Admiral Kempenfelt's letter to the flag-ship immediately, and we will not be detained more than an hour. Would that we had sailed before we saw that awful sight!" The afternoon sun was declining when the _Fox_ passed out to sea. Archy looked resolutely seaward--he could not bear to turn his eyes towards the dreadful spot where the _Royal George_ had gone down. At eight bells, after relieving the watch, Captain Wilbur called all hands on deck, and, having no chaplain, he himself held a simple religious service, in which all, both officers and men, joined fervently. Captain Wilbur, although a dashing officer, was a stern man, a rigid moralist, and counted as puritanical--but all hearts were subdued by the terrible calamity they had just witnessed. Archy felt that he had special cause for gratitude, and he gave thanks with a greater devoutness of spirit than he had felt since the hour that Commodore Jones--a man of deep though unobtrusive piety--had exhorted him to thank God for the glorious success of their country. They had sailed on the 29th of August, and by extraordinary good-fortune found themselves off Ushant within thirty-six hours. There, waiting for them, was the French frigate _Alceste_, with the English officers to be exchanged for the French. To Archy's delight and surprise he found that as soon as the French officers were landed at Ushant the _Alceste_ was to take aboard the Comte d'Artois, the King's brother, and the Duc de Bourbon, who were determined to see the last act in the tragedy and to sail for Gibraltar. The gallant French officers expressed the utmost sympathy for the terrible disaster suffered by the British navy, and especially at the loss of Admiral Kempenfelt, who was admired and respected even by his enemies. The Admiral's letter--the last he had ever penned--was recommendation enough to Archy, even without his prestige as having served under Paul Jones. He was at once offered a berth on the _Alceste_, which he gladly accepted, and on the 12th day of September he came in sight, for the third time, of the Rock of the Lion. So celebrated had this siege become that persons from all parts of Europe came, as the Comte d'Artois and the Duc de Bourbon, to see the last mortal struggle between Spain and England for this mighty fortress. On that September day when they cast anchor in the harbor of Algeciras, the shore, as far as the eye could reach, was an armed camp. The gigantic fortifications, armed with hundreds of the heaviest siege guns, were manned by forty thousand men. Fifty French and Spanish battle-ships, nine of which wore admiral's flags, were drawn up in menacing array, and beside them were a hundred gunboats, mortar vessels and bomb-ketches, ten enormous floating batteries, and three hundred smaller boats, to land men when a practicable breach in the defences should be made. From these enormous forces of attack, Archy turned his eyes on the great fortress. The golden light of morning bathed the summit of the Rock in fire, and the ensign of St. George floated proudly above it. There were not six thousand men, and less than a hundred guns, to oppose the tremendous bombardment of the Spaniards and French; but these were the seasoned sailors, soldiers, and marines who had held out stubbornly against death and defeat in every form for more than three years. Precisely at seven o'clock in the morning a signal-gun boomed over the water, and then began the unparalleled assault, which made all that had gone before it mere child's-play. CHAPTER XX On that September morning, as the sun rose in unclouded glory, every man of the heroic garrison of Gibraltar was at his post; every soldier and sailor in the tremendous array of ships and batteries meant to annihilate the fortress was ready for the assault; and uncounted thousands of persons, both on sea and land, watched and waited to see this terrible and unmatched bombardment. At seven o'clock three hundred heavy guns on the land side opened fire upon the Rock. Fifty ships of the line and the ten great floating batteries, protected by bomb-proof shields, moved up to within a thousand yards and poured their broadsides upon the fortress. The garrison had less than a hundred guns to reply with, but these were served with a steadiness and vigor that made them doubly effective. From these guns were thrown red-hot shot, which were frightfully destructive to the ships, but rolled harmlessly off the shields of the formidable floating batteries into the water, from which clouds of steam arose to mingle with the dense smoke that made the fair day dark. The thunder of the guns was indescribable. The solid Rock itself seemed to roar and tremble as it replied to the hurricane of shot and shell that rained upon it. The huge ships fired broadside after broadside, while from the isthmus the batteries were worked by ten thousand men. Soon, all below the summit of the Rock became as black as midnight with the smoke, and it was lighted by the red flames from the guns and the explosion of magazines on land and sea. But high above all, serene in the light of morning, floated the proud standard of England. As Archy Baskerville, from the _Alceste's_ deck, watched the terrible and imposing sight of war in all its majesty, he felt a thrill of pride that those six thousand indomitable men were of the same blood as himself. All day this hell of fire and fury lasted, and as night came on its horrors were increased by the ships and floating batteries catching fire. By that time the fortress had proved its impregnable nature, and the superiority of its cannonade became manifest. One after another of the ships caught fire from the red-hot shot, and by midnight, in spite of the utmost efforts, the _Pastora_, Admiral Moreno's flagship, was seen to be blazing from stem to stern. Other of the smaller vessels were in flames, and as the day had been made dark by the smoke, so now the blaze lighted up the whole bay with a frightful glare that was reflected in the lurid heavens, while the Rock itself seemed a mountain on fire. The hot shot had told with terrible effect on the Spanish fortifications on the land side, and they were blazing in more than fifty places at once. By midnight it had proved equally appalling upon the fleets and floating batteries. Nearly every one of the smaller Spanish vessels was on fire, and distress signals were seen in all parts of the bay. The wind was adverse, and, with the powerful currents, was driving the ships of the line away from the Rock, so they could be of no assistance in saving these smaller vessels, which drifted about helplessly until the fire reached their magazines, and then would be exploded with a concussion that seemed to shake Gibraltar to its base. About two o'clock in the morning the floating batteries, which were the chief hope of the besiegers, were seen to be in disorder. It was then, by the fierce light of battle, that Archy Baskerville, from the _Alceste's_ deck, recognized Captain Curtis, as, in command of a few light gunboats, he put off from the New Mole, and, rapidly forming a line upon the flank of the floating batteries, drove them directly under the guns of the fortress. This was their destruction, and the Spaniards abandoned them so quickly that scores of wounded men were left aboard of them to perish in the flames. Then Archy saw Captain Curtis in a cutter make for the blazing and exploding boats, and with other officers and men drag forth the wounded, who would otherwise have perished in the flames. Archy's heart swelled almost to bursting. "Oh, that I were there! that I were there!" he almost cried aloud, so overpowering to the heart and the imagination is the sight of heroism. At one moment the cutter was alongside a gunboat just as the magazine blazed up. The whole vessel seemed to rise in the coppery sky and to break into a million pieces before it descended. No one ever expected to see the cutter and its heroic company again, but when the first horrible shock and crash were over she was seen still afloat. The dreadful night wore away and the dawn came on. Archy, who thought that he had seen the most terrible sight in the world at the sinking of the _Royal George_, now realized that there was something more dreadful still. The bay was covered with wreckage, to which drowning men clung. Dead bodies floated everywhere--the smell of powder and of blood was in the murky air. On the land side it was, if anything, worse. Fortifications were destroyed, guns were dismounted, the trenches were encumbered with the dead and dying. It was then, when the full scene of destruction was visible, that the hopelessness of the attack was seen. The preparations that had been months in making had been tried and had failed, and the flag of England still flew steadily over Gibraltar. As if by common consent the tremendous cannonade ceased, and just as the last gun was fired the first pale gleam of the sun shone upon the British ensign, and from the Rock came borne a cry of triumph as the salute was played. Archy Baskerville, who had watched through the whole day and night, felt a thrill of something strangely like joy at the success of the indomitable garrison. He would have liked to echo that cry of triumph, and it required all of his self-control not to do so; but he remembered that he was on a ship of his allies, and, whatever his heart might feel, he spoke no word that indicated the conflict of emotions within him. The French officers were equally on their guard, but Archy, looking into the faces near him on the _Alceste's_ deck, when that shout was wafted towards them from the invincible fortress, saw that they had no more hope. The fortress that could withstand the assault of the previous twenty-four hours was impregnable. By common consent there was peace on the day after this frightful bombardment, and on that day Archy was permitted to go ashore, in the effort to communicate with Langton. The Duc de Crillon at once gave permission for him not only to communicate with Langton, but to go inside the Landport gate. The most generous relations were maintained during the whole time that General Eliot and the Duc de Crillon were opposed to each other, and every favor consistent with prudence was granted on each side. At nightfall, therefore, Archy was taken to the Landport gate blindfolded, and led inside the fortress, when presently he found himself in a casemate, and there--oh, joy! were Langton and Captain Curtis, both overjoyed to see him. But Langton was white and gasping for breath, and as weak as a child. "He has not yet recovered from his fever, though he worked like a hero yesterday; but I think he will not be able to do any more during the siege," said Captain Curtis. Langton could only smile feebly, and ask eagerly after his mother and sisters. "But you must get well now, to be our grandfather's heir, because, I assure you, he means to make you so," cried Archy, trying to be cheerful, but feeling a sinking at the heart as he looked at Langton. And then Archy declared he would not leave the fortress without a glimpse of Mrs. Curtis and Dolly and Judkins. They were all sent for, and there was a brief interview--too hurried for joy, but yet comforting when Archy clasped their hands and felt Dolly's childish arms around his neck. But, presently, like a dream, it was over, and he was once more outside the walls. Archy had formed a plan before he had seen Langton for five minutes, and the very next day he carried it into effect. He got an audience with the Duc de Crillon, and told him briefly the story of his relations with Langton, and his forced imprisonment during a part of the siege, and then, in a burst of frankness, he said: "Pardon, sir, but Mr. Langton can be of no more service at Gibraltar. I am almost afraid if released now that he will not live to return to England; but if he could be released on parole--he seems almost dying now--his mother--" Archy stopped, and the Duc de Crillon, after a pause, turning to his military secretary, said: "Make out a parole for Midshipman Langton, of the Royal navy, and address it to General Sir George Eliot, saying if, in his judgment, Mr. Langton is a non-combatant now, and likely to remain so, that this parole is at his service." Archy tried to express his thanks, but his heart was too full for his tongue to be glib. His very hesitation and embarrassment, however, were not without their eloquence, and the Duc de Crillon did not for one moment suspect him of a want of gratitude. It still took some days to arrange the preliminaries, and Archy was permitted to enter the fortress several times. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw how little damage had been inflicted by the greatest bombardment in history, and he could hardly believe his ears when the slight loss sustained by the besieged was mentioned to him. One thing appeared settled, that Gibraltar could never be taken by assault, and that the Spanish and French commanders would make no further efforts. Archy, being plentifully supplied with money, through the assistance of the Spanish authorities was enabled to get a small neutral vessel, which agreed to take to England himself and Langton and a few other non-combatants who were permitted to leave the fortress. On the last day of September they embarked. At the Landport gate Archy met Langton, looking frightfully ill, and supported by Captain Curtis and Judkins, while Mrs. Curtis and Dolly walked behind. The kindest farewells were exchanged. "We will meet soon in England," said Archy; "the siege is over, the war with my country is over, and as soon as Parliament meets a general peace will be proclaimed. But, American as I am, I can never think of what I saw at Gibraltar without being proud to be of the same race as the men who defended it, and the women too." At this, Dolly said, gravely: "I love you, Archy, even if you are a rebel," which made them all laugh and relieved the sadness of the parting. Once on board the vessel and under a fair wind for home, Langton seemed to take a new lease of life. Their quarters were cramped and their discomforts many, but he was homeward bound, and that was enough. They had a quick voyage to Gravesend, and taking post-horses for London, arrived at Lord Bellingham's town house in Berkeley Square, and, the first thing, Archy almost ran into Colonel Baskerville's arms. "I have brought Langton himself back, instead of news concerning him," cried Archy, as soon as they were inside the doors; and the next moment he heard a faint cry beside him. Mrs. Langton, her arms wide open, had entered the room, and there Langton was in his mother's arms; and Colonel Baskerville and Archy turned their backs and pretended to be very busy talking, while the mother and son were in the first rapture of meeting. And then Mary and Isabel rushed in, and laughed and cried as they hugged Langton, and even condescended to be glad to see Archy; and presently they were all marched off to Lord Bellingham's room, who was to see, for the first time, the grandson for whom he destined a great fortune and a brilliant future. Langton was still pale and weak, but it only made his face more interesting, and his bearing was still military. Archy watched keenly the meeting between the old man and the young one. Lord Bellingham's piercing glance travelled all over Langton's person, and then wandered for a moment to Archy, who was, at all times, the handsomer and the more spirited of the two. But Langton's calm dignity and manly self-possession were not without their power, and even Lord Bellingham had no reason to be dissatisfied with him. And now Archy, having, as he justly thought, a right to express himself, indulged his natural and incurable propensity for speaking his mind, and, looking Lord Bellingham squarely in the eye, said: "I hope, grandfather, you have now a grandson who will suit you in all respects, and I only wish you could give Langton the title, as I don't want it. By-the-way, sir, I hear that King George is preparing to back down as gracefully as possible at the meeting of Parliament." To which Lord Bellingham's reply was to say, good-humoredly: "Grandson, you have earned the right to be impertinent." Langton was immediately established in the position of heir-apparent, and Lord Bellingham could scarcely allow him to recover from the fatigues of his journey before sending for the family solicitor to make his will. But Archy's position was far from unpleasant. He was a hero to Langton and to Mrs. Langton, and in course of time actually subdued Mary and Isabel, while Colonel Baskerville, who had always felt a deep affection for him, became every day more attached to him. As for Lord Bellingham, he seemed to find Archy a source of perpetual interest and diversion, and although he gave no hint of intending to do more than give him the promised two thousand pounds, it was plain that he was far from indifferent to his American grandson. Archy had always taken liberties, hitherto unheard of, with his grandfather, and so far from producing explosions of temper, they only provoked the silent laughter which was Lord Bellingham's way of showing amusement. But Archy himself had undoubtedly improved. He was learning, by degrees, to be frank without being disagreeable, to have his joke without trampling upon the sensibilities of others, and to be considerate of the faults and foibles of old age. In fact, his self-love became enlisted on his grandfather's side, for, as Colonel Baskerville sometimes reminded him, dryly: "If you had been born a peer with a great rent-roll, I think you would have been more domineering and dictatorial than Lord Bellingham." There was still no love lost between Archy and his two girl cousins, but their nimble tongues were silenced by Archy's generosity towards Langton, who was the family darling. It must be admitted that Archy took rather mean advantage of this, and when he received a long letter from Paul Jones, the lives of Mary and Isabel were made miserable by his chaff and jeers. Langton had to hear the whole story of their infatuation for Paul Jones, which lost nothing in Archy's telling, and made Langton laugh for a week; and when the letter by some untoward accident was lost, Archy declined to be convinced that Mary and Isabel had not cribbed it for a keepsake. So several weeks passed in the gloomy old mansion, which Archy disrespectfully called an old rattle-trap. But they were not gloomy weeks to any one in it. For the first time in his life Lord Bellingham was surrounded by those who should be nearest and dearest to him, and he found life a very different and far pleasanter thing than when he had been at war with his whole family. His daughter's kind attentions added to his comfort, and his four handsome grandchildren were a source of infinite pride to him--and pride meant pleasure to Lord Bellingham. Parliament was to meet on the 5th of December, and Lord Bellingham determined to attend in his peer's robes and coronet, according to the custom of the times. The day was dull and gloomy outside, but Archy Baskerville thought it the happiest and brightest day that had ever yet shone upon him, for the King, in his speech from the throne, was to acknowledge the independence of the American colonies. About ten o'clock on that morning the family coach was at the door, and Colonel Baskerville, Archy, and Langton awaited Lord Bellingham to drive to the House of Lords. When he appeared in his scarlet robes, and carrying his coronet in his hand, something very like a smile appeared upon the countenances of his brother and his two grandsons. Archy mentally congratulated himself that he would never have to appear in such a rig, and even whispered as much to Langton. Lord Bellingham was in a very bad humor as the result of his trailing robes and troublesome coronet, but nothing could damp Archy's enthusiasm. "We shall be mobbed," fretfully exclaimed Lord Bellingham. "This young gentleman here will probably begin huzzaing out of the coach window for the colonies, and God knows what will befall us then!" "I'll take care of all of you, grandfather," magnanimously declared Archy, which only increased the Earl's irritation, and Archy proceeded to fan the flame by remarking that he supposed the King, too, was in a very bad humor that morning. And so he was. When, amid a death-like stillness in the House of Lords, the King rose to read his speech to Parliament assembled, he gave every indication of agitation and embarrassment. He proceeded falteringly until he announced the cessation of the American war, and then, attempting to utter the sentence, "I offer to declare them free and independent States," he broke down completely, and, after a painful and agitated silence, with a distressing effort read the fateful words. Archy was squeezed in a corner of the gallery close by Colonel Baskerville, who kept a keen watch upon him to check any characteristic outbreak of enthusiasm, and was actually enabled to prevent it until the tedious but imposing proceedings were over. Outside the Houses of Parliament a vast crowd was assembled. There were a few cheers for the King's speech, but most of the multitude accepted the tremendous event in solemn silence. As Archy came out with the surging crowd he suddenly shouted out a long and loud "Huzza!" but the next moment Colonel Baskerville had clapped his hand over Archy's mouth, had hustled him into the coach, and they were driving off, Lord Bellingham scowling in the corner seat. But Langton, shaking Archy's hand cordially, cried out: "Congratulations, Archy. We shall yet live to glory in our kin beyond the sea." * * * * * Ten years after that, one Christmas Eve, a new and handsome equipage dashed into the village of Bellingham about dusk. As the coachman pulled up the horses, the footman jumped down, threw open the door, and let down the steps. Forth stepped Langton, now a handsome man of eight-and-twenty, and after him came Colonel Baskerville, not looking a day older than on that November afternoon, ten years before, when he had travelled from York with the young American midshipman, quite unconscious of the close relationship between them. The coach from York was almost due, and they had not long to wait before it rolled in, the horses steaming in the wintry air. Without waiting for it to come to a full stop, Archy Baskerville made a flying leap from the box-seat, and Langton and himself, grasping each other, indulged in a bear-hug worthy of their midshipman days. Archy then turned his attention to Colonel Baskerville, and treated him to a similar embrace, which almost broke his ribs, but which the Colonel bore uncomplainingly for the quiet joy the meeting with Archy gave him. Langton promptly shoved Archy into the coach, the footman seized the portmanteaus from the boot of the York coach, and the four blooded horses took the road through the path towards Bellingham Castle. "Langton," cried Archy, as soon as they were in the coach, "you are a thousand times welcome to the castle and the title, and even our grandfather's peer's robes and coronet, when they come to you, for I have now the prospect of having what my heart has yearned for during ten years. Congress has authorized the building of six fine frigates, and I have the promise of one of them. I shall be Captain Baskerville at last!" "Then I know you will be happy," replied Langton. "I remember you always declared you would rather have a fine ship than the greatest castle in England." "I do not think you have changed much," said Colonel Baskerville. "Oh, you are mistaken, uncle," answered Archy, quite confidently. "I have learned prudence, I assure you, and a great many of the other beggarly virtues," at which the Colonel smiled significantly. "And whom, think you, have we to meet you at Bellingham besides my mother and sisters? Dolly Curtis, now a lovely girl of twenty-two, and very anxious to see her old playfellow," said Langton. "How jolly!" was Archy's reply. But when he tried to imagine Dolly as anything but a little girl, who played with him and scrambled all over him, and rode upon his shoulders and sang songs with Judkins, he failed utterly. Presently they rattled up to the door and were in the great hall in a moment, and Mrs. Langton's arms were around Archy's neck, and she was leading him to Lord Bellingham's chair by the fire, where the old man sat quite tremulous with joy to see him. And Archy burst out with the very thing that pleased Lord Bellingham most: "I wished to see all my friends in England, grandfather, but especially you; for after I went back to America and experienced your generosity in providing for me, I recalled all your kindness while I was here, and I wondered how you put up with such a presumptuous little beggar as I was." Isabel and Mary, two handsome and dignified young women, came forward and greeted him with the utmost cordiality, and they all three burst out laughing involuntarily at the same moment, remembering their ancient squabbles. And then a charming, beautiful, modest girl advanced, who looked at Archy with strange but not unfriendly eyes--Dolly's eyes--and gave him her hand--over which he bowed--and said to him in a sweet and thrilling voice one word which brought back the stirring past: "Gibraltar!" THE END 
52485	----	Google Books (Harvard University) Transcriber's Notes: 1. Page scan source: https://books.google.com/books?id=jZxBAAAAYAAJ (Harvard University) 2. The diphthong oe is represented ny [oe]. [Illustration: Front Cover] COMMODORE PAUL JONES. [Illustration: Frontispiece Paul Jones] COMMODORE PAUL JONES BY CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY AUTHOR OF REUBEN JAMES, A HERO OF THE FORECASTLE; THE GRIP OF HONOR; STEPHEN DECATUR; ETC. _WITH PORTRAIT AND MAPS_ NEW YORK AND LONDON D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 1912 COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. _All rights reserved._ Printed in the United States of America THIS STORY OF THE LIFE OF ONE OF THE GREAT FOUNDERS OF THE REPUBLIC IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO GEORGE CLIFFORD THOMAS, A NOBLE EXEMPLAR OF ITS CITIZENSHIP. PREFACE. In preparing this work I began, I admit, with an ardent admiration for John Paul Jones, born of long study of his career. I have endeavored, however, so far as possible, to lay aside my preconceived opinions and predisposition in his favor, and I have conscientiously gone over the immense mass of material bearing upon him, _de novo_, in an attempt to be absolutely and strictly impartial. Perhaps I have not altogether succeeded, but if it be found that I have erred in Jones' favor, I shall be glad that I have followed the impulses of affection rather than those of depreciation. I have not, I trust, been blind to the faults in the character of the great sailor, nor to the mistakes he committed, nor to the wrongdoings in his career to which I have called attention; but, in spite of these things, which I have most reluctantly recorded, I am happy that renewed investigation, careful study, and much thought have only endeared him the more to me. I lay down the pen with a higher respect, with a more affectionate regard, with a greater admiration for him than ever. In Miss Seawell's fine phrase, "It may be said of him as of the great Condé: 'This man was born a captain.'" His place among the great sea kings as a strategist, a tactician, and a fighter is now unquestioned by the most calumnious of his defamers; but the wound he inflicted upon British pride still rankles after the lapse of more than a century, and his professional status and personal character are still bitterly aspersed. So doth prejudice blind the eyes of truth. I have devoted some space to the old charge that he was a pirate, which was renewed recently in an article in the London Academy, one of the leading journals of England, and I trust that the reader will find that I have finally disposed of that absurd statement, and the other slanders concerning him, in these pages. And I have tried to be fair to the enemy as well. Wherever it has been possible, without clogging the narrative or letting it assume the form of a mere collection of letters, Paul the sailor, like Paul the Apostle, hath been permitted to speak for himself. Contrary to some of his biographers, I have made it a rule to accept Jones' own statements unless they were controverted by adequate evidence. It is proper to call attention to the fact that the intent of the series, of which this is one, which deals primarily with the subjects of the different volumes as great commanders, naturally emphasizes their public exploits rather than their private life. This will account for a lack of amplification in certain directions, and for the omission of details of certain periods of his life which, were the circumstances other than they are, would probably be treated of at greater length. However, it is believed that enough appears in the pages to complete the picture and exhibit the man. There is a great amount of matter available for the study of his life, in the shape of lives, essays, sketches, and general histories, and contemporary memoirs, and an immense mass of manuscript reports and correspondence, and Jones himself left several interesting accounts of his career and services, which are of great value to his biographers. I have freely used all sources of information to which I could gain access, and they have not been few. It will be only justice, however, if I acknowledge that among the authorities consulted I have found the excellent life by Commodore Alexander Slidell Mackenzie, U. S. N., published in 1841, the most useful. Mackenzie was an officer and seaman of wide experience and fine talents, whose life covered the period of our naval development succeeding the War of 1812, and his comments from a sailor's point of view are instructive and invaluable. His work is marred by an unfortunate bias against Jones, which appears in several instances; in a desire to be accurate and just he has gone to a censurable extreme. Two other books have been most helpful: the life by John Henry Sherburne, sometime Register of the United States Navy, published in 1825, with its valuable collection of reports of participants in different actions, and statements and official documents not otherwise preserved; and the life compiled from the manuscript furnished by Miss Janette Taylor, a niece of the great commodore, published in 1830. I may also add that I have found Captain Mahan's admirable papers upon the subject, in Scribner's Magazine, of great value. Indeed, there are facts, observations, and deductions in these articles which appear nowhere else, so sure is the touch of a genius for historical accuracy and investigation like his. Among other essayists, Miss Molly Elliott Seawell, whose facile pen has done so much to exploit our early naval heroes, has written a notable and interesting paper which appeared in the Century Magazine; while Professor John Knox Laughton, the English naval expert, in his celebrated but scandalous and utterly unjustifiable attack, gives us a modern British estimate of the commodore. I shall pay my respects to his contribution later. No extended life has been published for fifty years. My thanks are due to General Horace Porter and the Honorable Charlemagne Tower, LL.D., ambassadors of the United States to France and Russia respectively, for investigations in answers to inquiries, and for suggestions; to Dr. Talcott Williams, of Philadelphia, for valuable suggestions as to sources of possible information; to the Rev. Dr. William Elliot Griffis, of Ithaca, New York, for much interesting matter connected with the Baron van der Capellen, for unpublished manuscript notes on North Holland, the Helder, and the Texel, and for the rare copy of the old Dutch song, "Hir komt Pauwel Jones aan," which appears in the appendix; to Lieutenant-General O. V. Stubendorff, Chief of the Topographical Section of the Imperial Russian General Staff, and to Major-General E. Sarantchof, of the Russian army, for maps, reports, and other data concerning the campaign on the Dnieper-Liman, not accessible in any American books; to Mr. Charles T. Harbeck, of New York, for generous permission to make use of rare books and pamphlets relating to Paul Jones in his valuable collection of Americana; to Messrs. W. M. Cumming and Junius Davis, of Wilmington, N. C., and Mrs. A. I. Robertson, of Columbia, S. C., for information concerning the assumption of the name of Jones by John Paul, not hitherto published in book form; to Mr. E. G. McCollin and the Misses Mabel S. Meredith, Edith Lanigan, and Bertha T. Rivailles for much important work in translation; and to Miss Isabel Paris for invaluable assistance in transcribing the manuscript. Lest any of the above should be involved in possible criticisms which may be made of the book, I beg to close this preface with the assurance that for everything which follows I alone am responsible. CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY. Philadelphia, Pa., _July, 1900_. CONTENTS. I.--ANCESTRY--BIRTH--EARLY YEARS--PROFESSION--SUCCESS--CHANGE OF NAME II.--COMMISSIONED IN THE NAVY--HOISTS THE FIRST FLAG--EXPEDITION TO NEW PROVIDENCE--ENGAGEMENT WITH THE GLASGOW III.--THE CRUISE OF THE PROVIDENCE IV.--THE CRUISE OF THE ALFRED V.--SUPERSEDED IN RANK--PROTESTS VAINLY AGAINST THE INJUSTICE--ORDERED TO COMMAND THE RANGER--HOISTS FIRST AMERICAN FLAG VI.--THE FIRST CRUISE OF THE RANGER--SALUTE TO THE AMERICAN FLAG VII.--THE SECOND CRUISE OF THE RANGER--THE DESCENT ON WHITEHAVEN--THE ATTEMPT ON LORD SELKIRK--THE CAPTURE OF THE DRAKE VIII.--STANDING AND WAITING IX.--THE CRUISE OF THE SQUADRON X.--THE BATTLE WITH THE SERAPIS XI.--AFTER THE BATTLE--REMARKS ON THE ACTION XII.--UPHOLDING AMERICAN HONOR IN THE TEXEL XIII.--THE ESCAPE OF THE ALLIANCE XIV.--HONORS AND REWARDS--QUARREL WITH LANDAIS--RELINQUISHES THE ALLIANCE XV.--THE CRUISE OF THE ARIEL XVI.--CAREER IN THE UNITED STATES TO THE CLOSE OF THE WAR XVII.--PRIZE AGENT IN FRANCE AND DENMARK--LAST VISIT TO THE UNITED STATES--A BLOT ON THE ESCUTCHEON--FAMOUS PASSAGE OF THE BALTIC XVIII.--IN THE RUSSIAN SERVICE--OTCHAKOFF AND THE CAMPAIGN IN THE LIMAN XIX.--SLANDERED IN RUSSIA--A SLAVONIC REWARD FOR FAITHFUL SERVICES XX.--LAST YEARS AND DEATH XXI.--PERSONAL APPEARANCE--CHARACTERISTICS--WAS HE A PIRATE?--FAREWELL APPENDICES INDEX COMMODORE PAUL JONES. CHAPTER I. ANCESTRY--BIRTH--EARLY YEARS--PROFESSION--SUCCESS--CHANGE OF NAME. Of the three great captains whose magnificent fighting has added such glorious chapters to the history of our naval campaigns, but one, George Dewey, the last of them all, is purely an American by birth and generations of ancestors. Farragut, the greatest of the three, was but one remove from a Spaniard. John Paul Jones, first of the group in point of time and not inferior to the others in quality and achievement, was a Scotsman. Only the limitation in means necessitated by the narrow circumstances of his adopted country during his lifetime prevented his surpassing them all. He remains to this day a unique character among the mighty men who trod the deck and sailed the ocean--a strange personality not surpassed by any in the long line of sea fighters from Themistocles to Sampson. In spite of, nay, because of his achievements, he was among the most calumniated of men. What follows is an attempt to tell his story and to do him justice. Near the close of the fifth decade of the eighteenth century, George I reigned in England, by the grace of God and because he had succeeded in putting down the rebellion of 1745; Frederick the Great was tenaciously clutching the fair province of Silesia which Maria Theresa, with equal resolution but with faint prospect of success, was endeavoring to retain; Louis XV (the well beloved!) was exploiting the privileges and opportunities of a king with Madame de Pompadour and the _Parc aux Cerfs_; and the long war of the Austrian succession was just drawing to a close, when there was born on July 6, 1747, to a Scots peasant, named John Paul, and to Jean MacDuff, his wife, a son, the fifth child of a large family.[1] The youngster was duly christened John Paul, Junior, after his sire. He is the hero of this history. He first saw the light on the estate of Arbigland, in the parish of Kirkbean, in the county of Kirkcudbright, a province once called the Royal Stewartry of Kirkcudbright (pronounced "Kircoobree"), because it had been governed formerly by a steward or deputy, appointed by the crown, of which the county had been an appanage. The father of the subject of this memoir filled the modest situation of a master gardener, a precursor of the modern and scientific landscape gardener, or engineer, in a small scale, in the employ of a Scots bonnet laird named Craik. His remote family--peasants, yeomen always--had come from the ancient lands of the Thanes of Fife, whence his grandfather had removed to Leith, where he kept a mail garden or wayside inn--in short, a tavern. It is to the credit of Master John Paul, Senior--evidently a most honest and capable man in that humble station in life into which it had pleased God to call him--that he forsook the tavern and clung to the garden. When he had finished his apprenticeship as gardener he removed to Arbigland, where he married Jean MacDuff, the daughter of a sturdy yeoman farmer of the neighboring parish of New Abbey, whose family had been established in their present location from time immemorial. The marriage was blessed with seven children, the two youngest sons dying in infancy. The first was a boy named William; the next three were girls, named Elizabeth, Janet, and Mary Ann; and the fifth and last, considering the death of the infants, the boy named John, after his father. _En passant_, there must have been something favorable to the development of latent possibilities in gardeners' sons in that corner of Scotland, for in the neighboring county of Ayr, a few years later was born of similar bucolic stock the son of another tiller of the soil, known to fame as Robbie Burns! The cottage in which young Paul made his first appearance was a little stone building in a verdant glade in a thriving wood hard by the north shore of the Solway. In front of the cottage whose whitewashed walls were in full view of the ships which entered the Firth there was a patch of greensward. The country of that section of bonnie Scotland in which is the parish of Arbigland is rugged and broken. To the east and to the west, huge, craggy mountains shut in a thickly wooded plateau, diversified by clear, rapid streams abounding in fish. The fastnesses in the hills even then were covered with romantic ruins of decayed strongholds of feudal times, reminiscent of the days of the Black Douglasses and their men. The coast line, unusually stern and bold, is broken by many precipitous inlets, narrow and deep. At the foot of the cliffs at low tide broad stretches of sand are exposed to view, and the rapid rise of the tide makes these shelving beaches dangerous places upon which to linger. The water deepens abruptly beyond the beaches, and vessels under favorable circumstances are enabled to approach near the shore. Amid such scenes as these the childhood of young Paul was passed. Like every thrifty Scots boy of the period, he had plenty of work to do in assisting his mother and father. The life of a Scots peasant of that time was one of hard and incessant toil; his recreations were few, his food meager, his opportunities limited, and the luxuries absent. Young John Paul ate his porridge and did his work like the rest. It would probably now be considered a sad and narrow life, which the stern and rigid austerity of the prevailing form of Calvinism did nothing to lighten. That gloomy religion, however, did produce men. It was the parish school which shaped and molded the minds of the growing Scots, and it was the Kirk which shaped and directed the schools, and the one was not more thorough than the other. I doubt if anywhere on earth at that day was the standard of education among the common people higher and more universally reached than in Scotland. During the short school year Paul was sent religiously to the nearest parish school, where he was well grounded in the rudiments of solid learning with the thoroughness which made these little schools famous. No demands of labor were allowed to interfere with the claims of education. On Sunday he was religiously and regularly marched to the kirk to be duly inducted into the mysteries of the catechism, and thoroughly indoctrinated with the theory of predestination and its rigorous concomitants. Of him, as of other boys, it is veraciously stated that he conceived a great fondness for the sea, and it is related that all his plays were of ships and sailors--a thing easily understood when it is remembered that his most impressionable hours were spent in sight and sound of the great deep, and that the white sails of ships upon the horizon were quite as familiar a picture to his youthful vision as the tree-clad hills and valleys of his native land. It is evident that he had no fancy for the garden. A man of action he, from his bib-and-tucker days. His chroniclers have loved to call attention to the fact that even as a lad he manifested the spirit of one born to rule, for in the sports and games it was his will which dominated his little group of comrades--and the Scotsman, even when he is a child, is not easily dominated, be it remembered. His was a healthy, vigorous boyhood. His desire for the sea must have been stronger than the evanescent feeling which finds a place sooner or later in the life of most boys, for in 1759, with the full consent of his parents, he crossed the Solway to Whitehaven, the principal port of the Firth, where he was regularly bound apprentice to a merchant named Younger, who was engaged in the American trade. He was immediately sent to sea on the ship Friendship, Captain Benson, and at the tender age of twelve years he made his first voyage to the new land toward whose freedom and independence he was afterward destined to contribute so much. The destination of the ship happened to be the Rappahannock River. As it fortunately turned out, his elder brother, William, had some years before migrated to Virginia, where he had married and settled at Fredericksburg, and by his industry and thrift finally amassed a modest fortune. Young Paul at once conceived a great liking for America which never faltered; long afterward he stated that he had been devoted to it from his youth. The ship duties in port not being arduous, the young apprentice, through the influence of his brother, was permitted to spend the period of the vessel's stay in America on shore under the roof of his kinsman. There he continued his studies with that zeal for knowledge which was one of his distinguishing characteristics, and which never left him in after life; for it is to be noted that he was always a student; indeed, had he not been so, his subsequent career would have been impossible. It was largely that habit of application, early acquired, that enabled him to advance himself beyond his original station. He especially applied himself to the science of navigation, the intricacies of which he speedily mastered, so that he became subsequently one of the most expert navigators that sailed the sea. His natural inclination for the sea stood him in good stead, and he finally acquired a complete knowledge of the details of his trying profession. Upon the failure of Mr. Younger, who surrendered the indentures of young Paul to him as the only thing he could do for him in his present circumstances, he was sufficiently capable to receive an appointment as third mate on the slaver King George, of Whitehaven. A few years after, in 1766, being then but nineteen years of age, he was appointed to the most responsible position of chief mate of the slaver Two Friends, a brigantine of Jamaica. The contrast between the old and the new _régime_ is brought vividly before us when we learn that to-day a cadet midshipman--the lowest naval rank at present--of the same age has still a year of schooling to undergo before he can even undertake the two years' probationary cruise at sea required before he can be commissioned in the lowest grade. Slave trading was a popular and common vocation in that day, not reprehended as it would be at present. Gentlemen of substance and station did not scruple to engage in it, either as providing money and receiving profit, or as actually participating as master or supercargo of ships in the traffic. It is interesting to note that young Paul, as he grew in years and acquired character, became intensely dissatisfied with slaving. The sense of the cruelties, iniquities, and injustice of the trade developed in him with coming manhood, and gradually took such possession of him that, as was stated by his relatives and himself, he finally resolved to withdraw from it. This determination, scarcely to be expected from one of his birth and circumstances, was greatly to his credit. The business itself was a most stirring and lucrative one, and for a young man to have attained the rank he enjoyed so early in life was evidence that he need have no fear but that the future would bring him further advancement and corresponding pecuniary reward. In this decision he was certainly in advance of his time as well; but that love of liberty which had been bred in him by the free air of the bold hills of his native land, and which afterward became the master passion of his life, for which he drew his sword, was undoubtedly heightened and intensified by this close personal touch with the horrors of involuntary servitude. In the year 1768, therefore, giving up his position on the Two Friends, he sailed as a passenger in the brigantine John, bound for Kirkcudbright. It happened that the captain and mate of the vessel both died of fever during the voyage, and at the request of the crew Paul assumed command and brought the vessel safely to her port. Currie, Beck & Co., the owners of the John, were so pleased with this exploit that they appointed young Paul master and supercargo of the vessel, in which he made two voyages to the West Indies. He was a captain, therefore, and a merchant at the age of twenty-one. The owners of the John dissolved partnership on the completion of his second voyage, and disposed of the ship, giving Paul the following honorable certificate upon his discharge from their employ: "These do certify to whom it may concern, that the bearer, Captain John Paul, was two voyages master of a vessel called the John, in our employ in the West India trade, during which time he approved himself every way qualified both as a navigator and supercargo; but as our present firm is dissolved, the vessel was sold, and of course he is out of our employ, all accounts between him and the owners being amicably adjusted. Certified at Kirkcudbright this 1st April, 1771. "Currie, Beck & Co." One incident in his West Indian service is worthy of mention, because it afterward crept out in a very ugly manner. On the second voyage of the John the carpenter, a man named Mungo Maxwell, formerly of Kirkcudbright, who had been mutinous, was severely flogged by the order of Paul. Maxwell was discharged at the island of Tobago. He immediately caused Paul to be summoned before the judge of the vice-admiralty court for assault. The judge, after hearing the testimony and statement of Captain Paul, dismissed the complaint as frivolous. Maxwell subsequently entered on a Barcelona packet, and in a voyage of the latter ship from Tobago to Antigua died of a fever. Out of this was built up a calumny to the effect that Maxwell had been so badly punished by Paul that he died from his injuries. When Paul was in the Russian service years afterward the slander was enhanced by the statement that Maxwell was his nephew. There was nothing whatever in the charge. After his retirement from the command of the John he engaged in local trading with the Isle of Man. It has been charged that he was a smuggler during this period; but he specifically and vehemently denied the allegation, and it is certain that the first entry of goods shipped from England to the Isle of Man, after it was annexed to the crown, stands in his name on the custom-house books of the town of Douglas. Soon after this he commanded a ship, the Betsy, of London, in the West India trade, in which he engaged in mercantile speculations on his own account at Tobago and Grenada, until the year 1773, when he went to Virginia again to take charge of the affairs of his brother William, who had died intestate, leaving neither wife nor children. Very little is known of his life from this period until his entry into the public service of the United States. From remarks in his journal and correspondence, it is evident, in spite of his brother's property, to which he was heir, and some other property and money which he had amassed by trading, which was invested in the island of Tobago, West Indies, that he continued for some time in very straitened circumstances. He speaks of having lived for nearly two years on the small sum of fifty pounds. It is probable that his poverty was due to his inability to realize upon his brother's estate, and the difficulty of getting a return of his West Indian investments, on account of the unsettled political conditions, though they were of considerable value. During this period, however, he took that step which has been a puzzle to so many of his biographers, and which he never explained in any of his correspondence that remains. He came to America under the name of John Paul; he reappeared after this period of obscurity under the name of John Paul Jones. It is claimed by the descendants of the Jones family of North Carolina that while in Fredericksburg the young mariner made the acquaintance of the celebrated Willie (pronounced Wylie) Jones, one of the leading attorneys and politicians of North Carolina. Jones and his brother Allen were people of great prominence and influence in that province. It was Jones' influence, by the way, which in later years postponed the ratification of the proposed Constitution of the United States by North Carolina. Willie Jones seems to have attended to the legal side of Paul's claims to his deceased brother's estate, and a warm friendship sprang up between the two young men, so dissimilar in birth and breeding, which, it is alleged, ended in an invitation to young Paul to visit Jones and his brother on their plantations. The lonely, friendless little Scotsman gratefully accepted the invitation--the society of gentle people always delighted him; he ever loved to mingle with great folk throughout his life--and passed a long period at "The Grove," in Northampton County, the residence of Willie, and at "Mount Gallant," in Halifax County, the home of Allen. While there, he was thrown much in the society of the wife of Willie Jones, a lady noted and remembered for her graces of mind and person, and who, by the way, made the famous answer to Tarleton's sneer--wholly unfounded, of course--at the gallant Colonel William A. Washington for his supposed illiteracy. Morgan and Washington had defeated Tarleton decisively at the Cowpens, and in the course of the action Washington and Tarleton had met in personal encounter. Washington had severely wounded Tarleton in the hand. The Englishman had only escaped capture by prompt flight and the speed of his horse. "Washington," said the sneering partisan to Mrs. Jones, "why, I hear he can't even write his name!" "No?" said the lady quietly and interrogatively, letting her eyes fall on a livid scar across Tarleton's hand, "Well, he can make his mark, at any rate." The Jones brothers were men of culture and refinement. They were Eton boys, and had completed their education by travel and observation in Europe. That they should have become so attached to the young sailor as to have made him their guest for long periods, and cherished the highest regard for him subsequently, is an evidence of the character and quality of the man. Probably for the first time in his life Paul was introduced to the society of refined and cultivated people. A new horizon opened before him, and he breathed, as it were, another atmosphere. Life for him assumed a different complexion. Always an interesting personality, with his habits of thought, assiduous study, coupled with the responsibilities of command, he needed but a little contact with gentle people and polite society to add to his character those graces of manner which are the final crown of the gentleman, and which the best of his contemporaries have borne testimony he did not lack. The impression made upon him by the privilege of this association was of the deepest, and he gave to his new friends, and to Mrs. Jones especially, a warm-hearted affection and devotion amounting to veneration. It is not improbable, also, that in the society in which he found himself--and it must be remembered that North Carolina was no less fervidly patriotic, no less desirous of independence, than Massachusetts: it was at Mecklenburg that the first declaration took place--the intense love of personal liberty and independence in his character which had made him abandon the slave trade was further developed, and that during this period he finally determined to become a resident of the new land; a resolution that made him cast his lot with the other colonists when the inevitable rupture came about. It is stated that in view of this determination on his part to begin life anew in this country, and as a mark of the affection and gratitude he entertained for the family of his benefactors, he assumed the name of Jones. It was a habit in some secluded parts of Scotland and in Wales to take the father's Christian name as a surname also, and this may have been in his mind at the time. He did not assume the name of Jones, however, out of any disregard for his family or from any desire to disguise himself from them, for, although he last saw them in 1771, he ever continued in correspondence with them, and found means, whatever his circumstances, to make them frequent remittances of money during his busy life. To them he left all his property at his death. It is certain, therefore, that for no reason for which he had cause to be ashamed did he affix the name of Jones to his birth name, and it may be stated that whatever name he took he honored. Henceforth in this volume he will be known by the name which he made so famous.[2] One other incident of this period is noteworthy. During his visit to North Carolina he was introduced by the Jones brothers to Joseph Hewes, of Edenton, one of the delegates from North Carolina to the first and second Provincial Congresses, and a signer of the great Declaration of Independence. In Congress Hewes was a prominent member of the Committee on Naval Affairs, upon which devolved the work of beginning and carrying on the navy of the Revolution. When the war broke out Paul Jones was still living in Virginia. But when steps were taken to organize a navy for the revolted colonies, attracted by the opportunities presented in that field of service in which he was a master, and glad of the chance for maintaining a cause so congenial to his habit of life and thought, he formally tendered his services to his adopted country. The influence of Willie Jones and Hewes was secured, and on the 7th of December, 1775, Jones was appointed a lieutenant in the new Continental navy. _Additional note on the assumption of the name of Jones_. Mr. Augustus C. Buell, in his exhaustive and valuable study of Paul Jones, published since this book was written, states that the name was assumed by him in testamentary succession to his brother, who had added the name of Jones at the instance of a wealthy planter named William Jones, who had adopted him. Mr. Buell's authority rests on tradition and the statements made by Mr. Louden, a great-grandnephew of the commodore (since dead), and of the sometime owner of the Jones plantation. On the other hand, in addition to the letters quoted in the Appendix, I have received many others from different sources, tending to confirm the version given by me. Among them is one from a Fredericksburg antiquarian, who claims that William Paul never bore the name of Jones in Fredericksburg. General Cadwallader Jones (who died in 1899, aged eighty-six), in a privately published biography, also states explicitly that he heard the story from Mrs. Willie Jones herself. Mr. Buell, in a recent letter to me, calls attention to the fact--and it is significant--that absolutely no reference to the North Carolina claim appears in any extant letter of the commodore, and claims that Hewes and Jones were acquainted before John Paul settled in America. As the official records have all been destroyed, the matter of the name will probably never be absolutely determined. CHAPTER II. COMMISSIONED IN THE NAVY--HOISTS THE FIRST FLAG--EXPEDITION TO NEW PROVIDENCE--ENGAGEMENT WITH THE GLASGOW. The honor of initiative in the origin of the American navy belongs to Rhode Island, a doughty little State which, for its area, possesses more miles of seaboard than any other. On Tuesday, October 3, 1775, the delegates from Rhode Island introduced in the Continental Congress a resolution which had been passed by the General Assembly of the province on August 26th of the same year, in which, among other things, the said delegates were instructed to "use their whole influence, at the ensuing Congress, for building, at the Continental expense, a fleet of sufficient force for the protection of these colonies, and for employing them in such manner and places as will most effectually annoy our enemies, and contribute to the common defense of these colonies." Consideration of the resolution was twice postponed, but it was finally discussed on the 7th of October and referred to a committee. On the 13th of October the committee reported, and Congress so far accepted the Rhode Island suggestion that the following resolution was passed: "_Resolved_, That a swift sailing vessel, to carry ten carriage guns and a proportionate number of swivels with eighty men, be fitted with all possible dispatch for a cruise of three months, and that the commander be instructed to cruise eastward for intercepting such transports as may be laden with warlike stores and other supplies for our enemies, and for such other purposes as the Congress shall direct." Another vessel was also ordered fitted out for the same purpose. Messrs. Deane, Langden, and Gadsden were appointed a committee to carry out the instructions embodied in the resolution. When the committee submitted a report, on the 30th of October, it was further resolved "that the second vessel ordered to be fitted out on the 13th inst. be of such size as to carry fourteen guns and a proportionate number of swivels and men." Two other vessels were also ordered to be put into service, one to carry not more than twenty and the other not more than thirty-six guns, "for the protection and defense of the United Colonies, as the Congress shall direct." This may be considered as the real and actual beginning of the American navy. There had been numerous naval encounters between vessels of war of the enemy and private armed vessels acting under the authority of the various colonies; and Washington himself, with the approval of the Congress, which passed some explicit resolutions on the subject on October 5th, had made use of the individual colonial naval forces, and had issued commissions to competent men empowering them to cruise and intercept the transports and other vessels laden with powder and supplies for the enemy, but no formal action looking to the creation of a regular naval force had been taken heretofore. Congress had long clung to the hope of reconciliation with the mother country, and had been exceedingly loath to take the radical step involved in the establishment of a navy, for in the mind of the Anglo-Saxon, who always claimed supremacy on the sea, a navy is primarily for offense. To constitute a navy for defense alone is to invite defeat. Aggression and initiative are of the essence of success in war on the sea. Now, in the peculiar condition in which the United Colonies found themselves, a naval force could be used for no other purpose than offense. The capacity of any navy which the colonies could hope to create, for defensive warfare, would be so slender as to be not worth the outlay, and the creation of a navy to prey upon the enemy's commerce and to take such of his armed vessels as could be overcome would controvert the fiction that we were simply resisting oppression. It would be making war in the most unmistakable way. It is a singular thing that men have been willing to do, or condone the doing of, things on land which they have hesitated to do or condone on the sea. The universal diffusion of such sentiments is seen in the absurdly illogical contention on the part of the British Government subsequently, that, although a soldier on land was a rebel, he could be treated as a belligerent; while a man who stood in exactly the same relation to the King of England whose field of action happened to be the sea was of necessity a pirate. At any rate, by the acts of Congress enumerated, a navy was assembled, and the plan of Rhode Island was adopted. It was Rhode Island, by the way, which, by preamble and resolution, sundered its allegiance to Great Britain just two months to a day before the Declaration of Independence. To the naval committee already constituted, Stephen Hopkins, Richard Henry Lee, John Adams, and Joseph Hewes were soon added. The committee at once undertook the work of carrying out the instructions they had received. On the 5th of November they selected for the command of the proposed navy Esek Hopkins, of Rhode Island, a brother of the famous Stephen Hopkins who was a member of the committee and one of the most influential members of the Congress. Other officers were commissioned from time to time as selections were made, and commissions and orders were issued to them by the committee, subject, of course, to the ratification or other action by the Congress. Paul Jones' commission as a lieutenant, as has been stated, was dated the 7th of December, 1775. Esek Hopkins, who was born in 1718, was therefore fifty-seven years of age. He had been a master mariner for thirty years. He was a man of condition and substance who had traded in his own ships in all the then visited parts of the globe. As a commander of privateers and letters of marque he was not without experience in arms. He had been created a brigadier general of the Rhode Island militia on the threatened outbreak of hostilities, a position he resigned to take command of the navy. On the 22d of December Congress confirmed the nomination of Hopkins as commander-in-chief, and regularly appointed the following officers: Captains: Dudley Saltonstall, Abraham Whipple, Nicholas Biddle, John Burroughs Hopkins. First Lieutenants: John Paul Jones, Rhodes Arnold, ---- Stansbury, Hoysted Hacker, Jonathan Pitcher. Second Lieutenants: Benjamin Seabury, Joseph Olney, Elisha Warner, Thomas Weaver, ---- McDougall. Third Lieutenants: John Fanning, Ezekiel Burroughs, Daniel Vaughan. These were, therefore, the forerunners of that long line of distinguished naval officers who have borne the honorable commission of the United States. In addition to the regular course pursued, other action bearing upon the subject of naval affairs was had. On Saturday, November, 25th, Congress, enraged by the burning of Falmouth, adopted radical resolutions, looking toward the capture and confiscation of armed British vessels and transports, directing the issuance of commissions to the captains of cruisers and privateers, and creating admiralty courts and prescribing a scheme for distributing prize money. On November 28th resolutions prescribing "Regulations for the Government of the Navy of the United Colonies" were adopted, the first appearance of that significant phrase in the records, by the way. On December 5th the seizure of merchant vessels engaging in trade between the Tories of Virginia and the West Indies under the inspiration of Lord Dunmore, was ordered. On December 11th a special committee to devise ways and means for "furnishing these colonies with a naval armament" was appointed. Two days later the report of the committee was adopted, and thirteen ships were ordered built, five of thirty-two, five of twenty-eight, and three of twenty-four guns. They were to be constructed one in New Hampshire, two in Massachusetts, one in Connecticut, two in Rhode Island, two in New York, four in Pennsylvania, and one in Maryland; the maximum cost of each of them was sixty-six thousand six hundred and sixty-six dollars and sixty-six and two thirds cents. They had a fine idea of accuracy in the construction corps of that day. But, while Congress had been therefore preparing to build the navy, the regular marine committee had not been idle. By strenuous effort the committee assembled a squadron. A merchant vessel called the Black Prince, which had lately arrived from London under the command of John Barry (afterward a famous American commodore), was purchased and renamed the Alfred, after King Alfred the Great, who is commonly believed to be the founder of the British navy. She was a small, stanch trading vessel, very heavily timbered, and with unusually stout scantlings for a ship of her class, although of course not equal to a properly constructed ship of war. The committee armed her with twenty 9-pounders on the main deck, and four smaller guns, possibly 6- or 4-pounders, on the forecastle and poop, and she was placed under the command of Captain Dudley Saltonstall. Jones, whose name stood first on the list of first lieutenants, was appointed her executive officer. Hopkins selected her for his flagship. Jones had been offered the command of one of the smaller vessels of the squadron, but elected to fill his present station, as presenting more opportunities for acquiring information and seeing service. His experience in armed vessels had been limited; he knew but little of the requirements of a man-of-war, and deemed he could best fit himself for that higher command to which he aspired and determined to deserve by beginning his service under older and more experienced officers--a wise decision. The next important vessel was another converted merchantman, originally called the Sally, now named the Columbus, after the great discoverer. She was a full-rigged ship of slightly less force and armament than the Alfred, commanded by Captain Abraham Whipple, already distinguished in a privateering way. In addition to these there were two brigs called the Andrea Doria and the Cabot, commanded by Captains Nicholas Biddle and John Burroughs Hopkins, a son of the commander-in-chief. The Andrea Doria and Cabot carried fourteen 4-pounders each. Hopkins arrived at Philadelphia in December, 1775, in the brig Katy, of the Rhode Island navy, which was at once taken into the Continental service and renamed the Providence, after the commander's native town. She carried twelve light guns, 4-pounders. There were also secured a ten-gun schooner called the Hornet, and the Wasp and Fly, two eight-gun schooners or tenders, one of which Jones had refused. The work of outfitting these ships as generously as the meager resources of the colonies permitted had been carried on assiduously before the arrival of the commander-in-chief, whose first duty, when he reached Philadelphia, was formally to assume the command. This assumption of command entailed the putting of the ships in commission by publicly reading the orders appointing the commodore, and assigning him to command, and hoisting and saluting the flags. The officers previously appointed had been proceeding somewhat irregularly, doubtless, by going on with their preparations prior to this important ceremony. At any rate, in the latter part of December, 1775, or the early part of January, 1776--the date not being clear, the authorities not only differing, but in no single case venturing upon a definite statement--all things having been made ready, Commodore Hopkins with his staff officers entered the commodore's barge, lying at the foot of Walnut Street, and was rowed to the flagship. The wharves and houses facing the river were crowded with spectators to witness so momentous a ceremony as the commissioning of the first American fleet. It has been recorded that it was a bright, cold, clear winter morning. The barge picked its way among the floating ice cakes of the Delaware, and finally reached the Alfred. The commodore mounted the side, followed by his staff, and was received with due honors in the gangway by the captain and his officers in such full dress as they could muster. The crew and the marines were drawn up in orderly ranks in the waist and on the quarter deck. After the reading of the commodore's commission and the orders assigning him to the command of the fleet, Captain Dudley Saltonstall nodded his head to John Paul Jones, his executive officer. The young Scotsman, with, I imagine, a heart beating rarely, stepped forward and received from the veteran quartermaster the end of the halliards, to which, in the shape of a neatly rolled-up ball, was bent a handsome yellow silk flag, bearing the representation of a rattlesnake about to strike (and perhaps a pine tree also), with the significant legend "Don't tread on me." With his own hands the young lieutenant hauled the rolled-up ensign to the masthead, and then, with a slight twitch, he broke the stops and there blew out in the morning breeze, before the eyes of the commodore, his officers, the men of the ships, and the delighted spectators on shore, the first flag that ever flew from a regularly commissioned war ship of the United Colonies. The grand union flag, a red and white striped ensign with the English cross in the canton, was also hoisted. The flags were saluted by the booming of cannon from the batteries of the ships, and with cheers from the officers and men of the squadron and the people on the shore, and thus the transaction was completed, and the navy of the United States began to be. The ships were slight in force, their equipments meager and deficient, and of inferior quality at best. The men had but little experience in naval warfare, and their officers scarcely much more. There were men of undoubted courage and capacity among them, however, and several to whom the profession of arms was not entirely new. At least two of them, Jones and Biddle, were to become forever famous for their fighting. Compared with the huge and splendid navy of England, the whole force was an unconsidered trifle, but it was a beginning, and not a bad one at that, as the mother country was to find out. The outfitting of the squadron was by no means complete, and, though the commodore with the others labored hard, the work proceeded slowly and with many hindrances and delays; it was never properly done. Then the ships were ice-bound in Delaware Bay, and it was not until nearly two months had elapsed that they were able to get to sea. The principal difficulty in the rebellious colonies, from the standpoint of military affairs, was the scarcity of powder. There were guns in respectable numbers, but without powder they were necessarily useless. The powder mills of the colonies were few and far between, and their output was inadequate to meet the demand. It is now well known that although Washington maintained a bold front when he invested the British army in Boston, at times his magazines did not contain more than a round or two of powder for each of his guns. His position was a magnificent specimen of what in modern colloquialism would have been called a "bluff." There was, of course, but little powder to spare for the improvised men-of-war, and most of what they had was borrowed from the colony of Pennsylvania. To get powder was the chief end of military men then. On February 17, 1776, the little squadron cleared the capes of the Delaware, and before nightfall had disappeared from view beneath the southeast horizon. It appears that the orders were for Hopkins to sail along the coast toward the south, disperse Dunmore's squadron, which was marauding in Virginia, pick up English coasting vessels, and capture scattered English ships cruising between Pennsylvania and Georgia to break up the colonial coasting trade and capture colonial merchantmen. But it also appears from letters of the Marine Committee that another object of the expedition was the seizure of large stores of powder and munitions of warfare which had been allowed to accumulate at New Providence, in the Bahama group, and that Hopkins sailed with much discretion as to his undertaking and the means of carrying it out. The Bahama project was maintained as a profound secret between the naval committee and its commodore, the matter not being discussed in Congress even. With that end in view the commander-in-chief, by orders published to the fleet before its departure, appointed the island of Abaco, one of the most northerly of the Bahama group, as a rendezvous for his vessels in case they became separated by the usual vicissitudes of the sea. The scattered ships were directed to make an anchorage off the southern part of the island, and wait at least fourteen days for the other vessels to join them before cruising on their own account in such directions as in the judgment of their respective commanders would most annoy, harass, and damage the enemy. Shortly after leaving the capes the squadron ran into a severe easterly gale off Hatteras, then, as now, one of the most dangerous points on the whole Atlantic seaboard. The ships beat up against it, and all succeeded in weathering the cape and escaping the dreaded perils of the lee shore. If lack of training prevented the officers from claiming to be naval experts, there were prime seamen among them at any rate. When the gale abated Hopkins cruised along the coast for a short time, meeting nothing of importance in the way of a ship. Rightly concluding that the fierce winter weather would have induced the enemy's vessels to seek shelter in the nearest harbors, and his cruise in that direction, if further continued, would be profitless, he squared away for the Bahamas, to carry out the second and secret part of his instructions. It was for a long time alleged that he took this action on his own account, and one of the charges against him in the popular mind was disobedience of orders in so doing; but he was undoubtedly within his orders in the course which he took, and it is equally certain that the enterprise upon which he was about to engage was one in which more immediate profit would accrue to the colonies than in any other. He should be held not only guiltless in the matter, but awarded praise for his decision. On the 1st of March the squadron, with the exception of the Hornet and the Fly, which had parted company in the gale, reached the island of Abaco, about forty miles to the northward of New Providence. No part of the western hemisphere had been longer known than the Bahamas. Upon one of them Columbus landed. The principal island among them, not on account of its size, which was insignificant, but because it possessed a commodious and land-locked harbor, is the island of New Providence. No island in the great archipelago which forms the northeastern border of the Caribbean had enjoyed a more eventful history. From time immemorial it had been the haunt of the buccaneer and the pirate. From it had sailed many expeditions to ravage the Spanish Main. It had been captured and recaptured by the successive nationalities which had striven for domination in the Caribbean, and in their brutal rapacity had made a hell of every verdant tropic island which lifted itself in the gorgeous beauty peculiar to those latitudes, above the deep blue of that lambent sea. It had come finally and definitely under the English crown, and a civilized government had been established by the notorious Woodes Rogers, who was himself a sort of Jonathan Wild of the sea, but one remove--and that not a great one--from the gentry whose nests he broke up and whose ravages he had put down. It had been taken since then by the Spaniards, but had been restored to the British. The town of Nassau, which lies upon the northern face of the island, is situated upon the side of a hill which slopes gently down toward the water. The harbor, which is sufficiently deep to accommodate vessels drawing not more than twelve feet, is formed by a long island which lies opposite the town. There are two entrances to the harbor, only one of which was practicable for large ships, though both were open for small vessels. At the ends of the harbor, commanding each entrance, two forts had been erected: Fort Montague on the east and Fort Nassau on the west. Through culpable negligence, in spite of the quantity of military stores it contained, there was not a single regular soldier on the island at that time, and no preparations for defense had been made. It was proposed to make the descent upon the western end of the island and then march up and take the town in the rear. Paul Jones, however, in the council which was held on the Alfred before the debarkation, pointed out the greater distance which the men would have to march in that case, the alarm which would be given by the passage of the ships, and advised that a landing be effected upon the eastern end of the island, whence the attack could be more speedily delivered, and, as the ships would not be compelled to advance, no previous alarm would be given. Hopkins demurred to this plan on the ground that no safe anchorage for the ships was afforded off the eastern end. The Alfred had taken two pilots from some coasting vessels which had been captured, and from them it was learned that about ten miles away was a small key which would afford the larger vessels safe anchorage. As Hopkins hesitated to trust the pilots, Jones, at the peril of his commission, offered in conjunction with them to bring the ships up himself. His suggestions were agreed to, his offer accepted, and when the vicinity of the key was reached he took his station on the fore-topmast crosstrees of the Alfred. He had sailed in the West Indian waters many times, and was familiar with the look of the sea and the indications near the shore. With the assistance of the pilots, after a somewhat exciting passage, he succeeded in bringing all the ships to a safe anchorage. That he was willing to take the risk, and, having done so, successfully carry out the difficult undertaking, gives a foretaste of his bold and decisive character, and of his technical skill as well. Preparations for attack were quickly made. Commodore Hopkins, having impressed some local schooners, loaded them with two hundred and fifty marines from the squadron, under the command of Captain Samuel Nichols, the ranking officer of the corps, and fifty seamen under the command of Lieutenant Thomas Weaver of the Cabot, and on March 2d the transports with this attacking force were dispatched to New Providence.[3] They were convoyed by the Providence and the Wasp, and a landing was effected under the cover of these two ships of war. Unfortunately, however, some of the other larger vessels got under way at the same time, and their appearance alarmed the town. It never seems to have occurred to any one but Jones that the west exit from the harbor should be guarded by stationing two of the smaller vessels off the channel to close it while the rest of the squadron took care of the eastern end. It seems probable from his correspondence that he ventured upon the suggestion, for he specifically referred in condemnatory terms to the failure to do so. At any rate, if he did suggest it, and from his known capacity it is extremely likely that the obvious precaution would have occurred to him, his suggestion was disregarded, and the western pass from the harbor was left open--a fatal mistake. The point where the expedition landed without opposition was some four and a half miles from Fort Montague. It was a bright Sunday morning when the first American naval brigade took up its march under Captain Nichols' orders. The men advanced steadily, and, though they were met by a discharge of cannon from Fort Montague, they captured the works by assault without loss, the militia garrison flying precipitately before the American advance. The marines behaved with great spirit on this occasion, as they have ever done. Instead of promptly moving down upon the other fort, however, they contented themselves during that day with their bloodless achievement, and not until the next morning did they advance to complete the capture of the place. The inhabitants of the island were in a state of panic, and when the marines and sailors marched up to attack Fort Nassau they found it empty of any garrison except Governor Brown, who opened the gates and formally surrendered it to the Americans. During the confusion of the night Brown seems to have preserved his presence of mind, and rightly divining that the powder would be the most precious of all the munitions of warfare in his charge, he had caused a schooner which lay in the harbor to be loaded with one hundred and fifty barrels, the limit of its capacity, and before daybreak she set sail and made good her escape through the unguarded western passage. A dreadful misfortune that, which would not have occurred had Jones been in command. [Illustration: Map of attack on New Providence in the Bahamas.] However, a large quantity of munitions of war of great value to the struggling colonies fell into the hands of Hopkins' men, including eighty-eight cannon, ranging in size from 9- to 36-pounders, fifteen large mortars, over eleven thousand round shot, and twenty precious casks of powder. The Americans behaved with great credit in this conquest. None of the inhabitants of the island were harmed, nor was their property touched. It was a noble commentary on some of the British forays along our own coast. Hopkins impressed a sloop, promising to pay for its use and return it when he was through with it, which promise was faithfully kept, and the sloop was loaded with the stores, etc., which had been captured. His own ships were also heavily laden with these military stores, the Alfred in particular being so overweighted that it was almost impossible to fight her main-deck guns, so near were they to the waterline, except in the most favorable circumstances of wind and weather. Taking Governor Brown, who was afterward exchanged for General Lord Stirling, and one or two other officials of importance as hostages on board his fleet, Hopkins set sail for home on the 17th of March. He had done his work expeditiously and well, but through want of precaution which had been suggested by Jones, he had failed in part when his success might have been complete. Still, he was bringing supplies of great value, and his handsome achievement was an auspicious beginning of naval operations. The squadron pursued its way toward the United Colonies without any adventures or happenings worthy of chronicle until the 4th of April, when off the east end of Long Island they captured the schooner Hawk, carrying six small guns. On the 5th of April the bomb vessel Bolton, eight guns, forty-eight men, filled with stores of arms and powder, was captured without loss. On the 6th, shortly after midnight, the night being dark, the wind gentle, the sea smooth, and the ships very much scattered, swashing along close-hauled on the starboard tack between Block Island and the Rhode Island coast, they made out a large ship, under easy sail, coming down the wind toward the squadron. It was the British sloop of war Glasgow, twenty guns and one hundred and fifty men, commanded by Captain Tyringham Howe. She was accompanied by a small tender, subsequently captured. The nearest ships of the American squadron luffed up to have a closer look at the stranger, the men being sent to quarters in preparation for any emergency. By half after two in the morning the brig Cabot had come within a short distance of her. The stranger now hauled her wind, and Captain John Burroughs Hopkins, the son of the commodore, immediately hailed her. Upon ascertaining who and what she was he promptly poured in a broadside from his small guns, which was at once returned by the formidable battery of the Glasgow. The unequal conflict was kept up with great spirit for a few moments, but the Cabot alone was no match for the heavy English corvette, and after a loss of four killed and several wounded, including the captain severely, the Cabot, greatly damaged in hull and rigging, fell away, and her place was taken by the Alfred, still an unequal match for the English vessel, but more nearly approaching her size and capacity. The Andrea Doria now got within range and joined in the battle. For some three hours in the night the ships sailed side by side, hotly engaged. After a time the Columbus, Captain Whipple, which had been farthest to leeward, succeeded in crossing the stern of the Glasgow, and raked her as she was passing. The aim of the Americans was poor, and instead of smashing her stern in and doing the damage which might have been anticipated, the shot flew high and, beyond cutting the Englishman up aloft, did no appreciable damage. The Providence, which was very badly handled, managed to get in long range on the lee quarter of the Glasgow and opened an occasional and ineffective fire upon her. But the bulk of the fighting on the part of the Americans was done by the Alfred. Captain Howe maneuvered and fought his vessel with the greatest skill. During the course of the action a lucky shot from the Glasgow carried away the wheel ropes of the Alfred, and before the relieving tackles could be manned and the damage repaired the American frigate broached to and was severely raked several times before she could be got under command. At daybreak Captain Howe, who had fought a most gallant fight against overwhelming odds, perceived the hopelessness of continuing the combat, and, having easily obtained a commanding lead on the pursuing Americans, put his helm up and ran away before the wind for Newport. Hopkins followed him for a short distance, keeping up a fire from his bow-chasers, but his deep-laden merchant vessels were no match in speed for the swift-sailing English sloop of war, and, as with every moment his little squadron with its precious cargo was drawing nearer the English ships stationed at Newport, some of which had already heard the firing and were preparing to get under way, Hopkins hauled his wind, tacked and beat up for New London, where he arrived on the 8th of April with his entire squadron and the prizes they had taken, with the exception of the Hawk, recaptured. The loss on the Glasgow was one man killed and three wounded; on the American squadron, ten killed and fourteen wounded, the loss being confined mainly to the Alfred and the Cabot, the Columbus having but one man wounded. During this action Paul Jones was stationed in command of the main battery of the Alfred. He had nothing whatever to do with the maneuvers of the ships, and was in no way responsible for the escape of the Glasgow and the failure of the American force to capture her. The action did not reflect credit on the American arms. The Glasgow, being a regular cruiser and of much heavier armament than any of the American ships, was more than a match for any of them singly, though taken together, if the personnel of the American squadron had been equal to, or if it even approximated, that of the British ship, the latter would have been captured without difficulty. The gun practice of the Americans was very poor, which is not surprising. With the exception of a very few of the officers, none of the Americans had ever been in action, and they knew little about the fine art of hitting a mark, especially at night. They had had no exercise in target practice and but little in concerted fleet evolution. There seems to have been no lack of courage except in the case of the captain of the Providence, who was court-martialed for incapacity and cowardice, and dismissed from the service. Hopkins' judgment in withdrawing from the pursuit for the reasons stated can not be questioned, neither can he be justly charged with the radical deficiency of the squadron, though he was made to suffer for it. While the Glasgow escaped, she did not get off scot free. She was badly cut up in the hull, had ten shot through her mainmast, fifty-two through her mizzen staysail, one hundred and ten through her mainsail, and eighty-eight through her foresail. Her royal yards were carried away, many of her spars badly wounded, and her rigging cut to pieces. This catalogue tells the story. The Americans in their excitement and inexperience had fired high, and their shot had gone over their mark. The British defense had been a most gallant one, and the first attack between the ships of the two navies had been a decided triumph for the English. Paul Jones' conduct in the main battery of the Alfred had been entirely satisfactory to his superior officers. He, with the other officers of that ship, was commended, and subsequent events showed that he still held the confidence of the commodore. CHAPTER III. THE CRUISE OF THE PROVIDENCE. The British fleet having left Newport in the interim, on the 24th of April, 1776, the American squadron got under way from New London for Providence, Rhode Island. The ships were in bad condition; sickness had broken out among their crews, and no less than two hundred and two men out of a total of perhaps eight hundred and fifty--at best an insufficient complement--were left ill at New London. Their places were in a measure supplied by one hundred and seventy soldiers, lent to the squadron by General Washington, who had happened to pass through New London, _en route_ to New York, on the day after Hopkins' arrival. There was a pleasant interview between the two commanders, and it was then that Jones caught his first glimpse of the great leader. The voyage to New London was made without incident, except that the unfortunate Alfred grounded off Fisher's Island, and had to lighten ship before she could be floated. This delayed her passage so that she did not arrive at Newport until the 28th of April. The health of the squadron was not appreciably bettered by the change, for over one hundred additional men fell ill. Many of the seamen had been enlisted for the cruise only, and they now received their discharge, so that the crews of the already undermanned ships were so depleted from these causes that it would be impossible for them to put to sea. Washington, who was hard pressed for men, and had troubles of his own, demanded the immediate return to New York of the soldiers he had lent to the fleet. The captain of the Providence being under orders for a court-martial for his conduct, on the 10th of May Hopkins appointed John Paul Jones to the command of the Providence. The appointment is an evidence of the esteem in which Jones was held by his commanding officer, and is a testimony to the confidence which was felt in his ability and skill; for he alone, out of all the officers in the squadron, was chosen for important sea service at this time. Having no blank commissions by him, Hopkins made out the new commission on the back of Jones' original commission as first lieutenant. It is a matter of interest to note that he was the first officer promoted to command rank from a lieutenancy in the American navy. His first orders directed him to take Washington's borrowed men to New York. After spending a brief time in hurriedly overhauling the brig and preparing her for the voyage, Jones set sail for New York, which he reached on the 18th of May, after thirty-six hours. Having returned the men, Jones remained at New York in accordance with his orders until he could enlist a crew, which he presently succeeded in doing. Thereafter, under supplemental orders, he ran over to New London, took on board such of the men left there who were sufficiently recovered to be able to resume their duties, and came back and reported with them to the commander-in-chief at Providence. He had performed his duties, routine though they were, expeditiously and properly. He now received instructions thoroughly to overhaul and fit the Providence for active cruising. She was hove down, had her bottom scraped, and was entirely refitted and provisioned under Jones's skillful and practical direction. Her crew was exercised constantly at small arms and great guns, and every effort made to put her in first-class condition. In spite of the limited means at hand, she became a model little war vessel. On June 10th a sloop of war belonging to the enemy appeared off the bay, and in obedience to a signal from the commodore Jones made sail to engage. Before he caught sight of the vessel she sought safety in flight. On the 13th of June the Providence was ordered to Newburyport, Massachusetts, to convoy a number of merchant vessels loaded with coal for Philadelphia. Before entering upon this important duty, however, Jones was directed to accompany the tender Fly, loaded with cannon, toward New York, and, after seeing her safely into the Sound, convoy some merchant vessels from Stonington to Newport. There were a number of the enemy's war vessels cruising in these frequented waters, and the carrying out of Jones' simple orders was by no means an easy task; but by address and skill, and that careful watchfulness which even then formed a part of his character, he succeeded in executing all his duties without losing a single vessel under his charge. He had one or two exciting encounters with English war ships, the details of which are unfortunately not preserved. In one instance, by boldly interposing the Providence between the British frigate Cerberus and a colonial brigantine loaded with military stores from Hispaniola, he diverted the attention of the frigate to his own vessel, and drew her away from the pursuit of the helpless merchantman, which thereby effected her escape. Then the Providence, a swift little brig admirably handled, easily succeeded in shaking off her pursuer, although she had allowed the frigate to come within gunshot range. The brigantine whose escape Jones had thus assured was purchased into the naval service and renamed the Hampden. The coal fleet had assembled at Boston instead of Newburyport, and in pursuance of his original orders Jones brought them safely to the capes of the Delaware on the 1st of August. The run to Philadelphia was soon made, and Hopkins' appointment, under which he was acting, was ratified by the Congress, and the commission of captain was given him, dated the 8th of August, 1776. Hitherto Jones, like all the others engaged in the war, had been a subject of England, a colonist in rebellion against the crown. By the Declaration of Independence he had become a citizen of the United States engaged in maintaining the independence and securing the liberty of his adopted country. The change was most agreeable to him. It added a dignity and value to his commission which could not fail to be acceptable to a man of his temperament. It was pleasant to him also to have the confidence of his commander-in-chief, which had been shown in the appointment to the command of the Providence, justified by the government in the commission which had been issued to him. Jones had made choice of his course of action in the struggle between kingdom and colony deliberately, not carried away by any enthusiasm of the moment, but moved by the most generous sentiments of liberty and independence. He had much at stake, and he was embarked in that particular profession fraught with peculiar dangers not incident to the life of a soldier. It must have been, therefore, with the greatest satisfaction that he perceived opportunities opening before him in that cause to which he had devoted himself, and in that service of which he was a master. A foreigner with but scant acquaintance and little influence in America, he had to make his way by sheer merit. The value of what has been subsequently called "a political pull" with the Congress was as well known then as it is now, and nearly as much used, too. He practically had none. Nevertheless, his foot was already upon that ladder upon which he intended to mount to the highest round eventually. He was not destined to realize his ambition, however, without a heartbreaking struggle against uncalled-for restraint, and a continued protest against active injustice which tried his very soul. It was first proposed by the Marine Committee that he return to New England and assume command of the Hampden, but he wisely preferred to remain in the Providence for the time being. He thoroughly knew the ship and the crew, over which he had gained that ascendency he always enjoyed with those who sailed under his command. Not so much by mistaken kindness or indulgence did he win the devotion of his men--for he was ever a stern and severe, though by no means a merciless, disciplinarian--but because of his undoubted courage, brilliant seamanship, splendid audacity, and uniform success. There is an attraction about these qualities which is exercised perhaps more powerfully upon seamen than upon any other class. The profession of a sailor is one in which immediate decision, address, resource, and courage are more in evidence than in any other. The seaman in an emergency has but little time for reflection, and in the hour of peril, when the demand is made upon him, he must choose the right course instantly--as it were by instinct. With large discretion in his orders, which were practically to cruise at pleasure and destroy the enemy's commerce, the Providence left the Delaware on the 21st of August. In the first week of the cruise she captured the brigs Sea Nymph, Favorite, and Britannia; the first two laden with rum, sugar, etc., and the last a whaler. These rich prizes were all manned and sent in. On the morning of the 1st of September, being in the latitude of the Bermudas, five vessels were sighted to leeward. The sea was moderately smooth, with a fresh breeze blowing at the time, and the Providence immediately ran off toward the strangers to investigate. It appeared to the observers on Jones' brig that the largest was an East Indiaman and the others ordinary merchant vessels. They were in error, however, in their conclusions, for a nearer approach disclosed the fact that the supposed East Indiaman was a frigate of twenty-eight guns, called the Solebay. Jones immediately hauled his wind and clapped on sail. The frigate, which had endeavored to conceal her force with the hope of enticing the Providence under her guns, at once made sail in pursuit. The Providence was a smart goer, and so was the Solebay. The two vessels settled down for a long chase. On the wind it became painfully evident that the frigate had the heels of the brig. With burning anxiety Jones and his officers saw the latter gradually closing with them. Shot from her bow-chasers, as she came within range, rushed through the air at the little American sloop of war, which now hoisted her colors and returned the fire. Seeing this, the Solebay set an American ensign, and fired one or two guns to leeward in token of amity, but Jones was not to be taken in by any transparent ruse of this character. He held on, grimly determined. As the Solebay drew nearer she ceased firing, confident in her ability to capture the chase, for which, indeed, there appeared no escape. An ordinary seaman, even though a brave man, would probably have given up the game in his mind, though his devotion to duty would have compelled him to continue the fight until actually overhauled, but Jones had no idea of being captured then. Already a plan of escape had developed in his fertile brain. Communicating his intentions to his officers, he completed his preparations, and only awaited the favorable moment for action. The Solebay had crept up to within one hundred yards of the lee quarter of the Providence. If the frigate yawed and delivered a broadside the brig would be sunk or crippled and captured. Now was the time, if ever, to put his plan in operation. If the maneuver failed, it would be all up with the Americans. As usual, Jones boldly staked all on the issue of the moment. As a preliminary the helm had been put slightly a-weather, and the brig allowed to fall off to leeward a little, so bringing the Solebay almost dead astern--if anything, a little to windward. In anticipation of close action, as Jones had imagined, the English captain had loaded his guns with grape shot, which, of course, would only be effective at short range. Should the Englishman get the Providence under his broadside, a well-aimed discharge of grape would clear her decks and enable him to capture the handsome brig without appreciably damaging her. From his knowledge of the qualities of the Providence, Jones felt sure that going free--that is, with the wind aft, or on the quarter--he could run away from his pursuer. The men, of course, had been sent to their stations long since. The six 4-pounders, which constituted the lee battery, were quietly manned, the guns being double-shotted with grape and solid shot. The studding sails--light sails calculated to give a great increase in the spread of canvas to augment the speed of the ship in a light breeze, which could be used to advantage going free and in moderate winds--were brought out and prepared for immediate use. Everything having been made ready, and the men cautioned to pay strict attention to orders, and to execute them with the greatest promptitude and celerity, Jones suddenly put his helm hard up. The handy Providence spun around on her heel like a top, and in a trice was standing boldly across the forefoot of the onrushing English frigate. When she lay squarely athwart the bows of the Solebay Jones gave the order to fire, and the little battery of 4-pounders barked out its gallant salute and poured its solid shot and grape into the eyes of the frigate. In the confusion of the moment, owing to the suddenness of the unexpected maneuver, and the raking he had received, the English captain lost his head. Before he could realize what had happened, the Providence, partially concealed by the smoke from her own guns, had drawn past him, and, covered with great wide-reaching clouds of light canvas by the nimble fingers of her anxious crew, was ripping through the water at a great rate at a right angle to her former direction. When the Solebay, rapidly forging ahead, crossed the stern of the saucy American a few moments after, she delivered a broadside, which at that range, as the guns were loaded with grape shot, did little damage to the brig and harmed no one. The distance was too great and the guns were badly aimed. By the time the Solebay had emulated the maneuvers of the Providence and had run off, the latter had gained so great a lead that her escape was practically effected. The English frigate proved to be unable to outfoot the American brig on this course, and after firing upward of a hundred shot at her the Solebay gave over the pursuit. This escape has ever been counted one of the most daring and subtle pieces of seamanship and skill among the many with which the records of the American navy abound. As subsequent events proved, the failure to capture Jones was most unfortunate on the part of the English. Jones now shaped his course for the Banks of Newfoundland, to break up the fishing industry and let the British know that ravaging the coast, which they had begun, was a game at which two could play. On the 16th and 17th of the month he ran into a heavy gale, so severe in character that he was forced to strike his guns into the hold on account of the rolling of the brig. The gale abated on the 19th, and on the 20th of September, the day being pleasant, the Providence was hove to and the men were preparing to enjoy a day of rest and amusement, fishing for cod, when in the morning two sail appeared to windward. As Jones was preparing to beat up and investigate them, they saved him that trouble by changing their course and running down toward him. They proved to be a merchant ship and a British frigate, the Milford, 32. Jones kept the Providence under easy canvas until he learned the force of the enemy, and then made all sail to escape. Finding that he was very much faster than his pursuer, he amused himself during one whole day by ranging ahead and then checking his speed until the frigate would get almost within range, when he would run off again and repeat the performance. It was naturally most tantalizing to the officers of the Milford, and they vented their wrath in futile broadsides whenever there appeared the least possibility of reaching the Providence. After causing the enemy to expend a large quantity of powder and shot, having tired of the game, Jones contemptuously discharged a musket at them and sailed away. On the 21st of September he appeared off the island of Canso, one of the principal fishing depots of the Grand Banks. He sent his boat in that night to gain information, and on the 22d he anchored in the harbor. There were three fishing schooners there, one of which he burned, one he scuttled, and the third, called the Ebenezer, he loaded with the fish taken from the two he had destroyed, and manned as a prize. After replenishing his wood and water, on the 23d he sailed up to Isle Madame, having learned that the fishing fleet was lying there dismantled for the winter. Beating to and fro with the Providence off the island, on that same evening he sent an expedition of twenty-five men in a shallop which he had captured at Canso, accompanied by a fully manned boat from the Providence. Both crews were heavily armed. The expedition captured the fishing fleet of nine vessels without loss. The crews of most of them, numbering some three hundred men, were ashore at the time, and the vessels were dismantled. Jones promised that if the men ashore would help to refit the vessels he desired to take with him as prizes, he would leave them a sufficient number of boats to enable them to regain their homes. By his ready address he actually persuaded them to comply with his request, and the unfortunate Englishmen labored assiduously to get the ships ready for sea. On the 25th of September their preparations were completed, but a violent autumn gale blew up, and their situation became one of great peril. The Providence, anchored in Great St. Peter Channel, rode it out with two anchors down to a long scope of cable. The ship Alexander and the schooner Sea Flower, which were heavily laden with valuable plunder, had also reached the same channel. The Alexander succeeded in making an anchorage under a point of rocks which sheltered her, and enabled her to sustain the shock of the gale unharmed. The Sea Flower was driven on the lee shore, and, being hopelessly wrecked, was scuttled and fired the next day. The Ebenezer, loaded with fish from Canso, was also wrecked. The gale had abated about noon, when, after burning the ship Adventure, dismantled and in ballast, and leaving a brig and two small schooners to enable the English seamen to reach home, the Providence, accompanied by the Alexander and the brigs Kingston Packet and Success, got under way for home. On the 27th the Providence, in spite of the fact that she was now very short-handed on account of the several prizes she had manned, chased two armed transports apparently bound in for Quebec, which managed to make good their escape. The little squadron resumed its course, and arrived safely at Rhode Island without further mishap on the 7th of October. On this remarkable cruise Jones had captured sixteen vessels, eight of which he manned and sent in as prizes, destroying five of the remainder, and generously leaving three for the unfortunate fishermen to reach their homes. He had carried out his orders to sink, burn, destroy, and capture with characteristic thoroughness, but without needless cruelty and oppression. He burned no dwelling houses, and turned no non-combatants out of their homes in the middle of winter, as Mowatt had done at Falmouth. He had entirely broken up the fishery at Canso, had escaped by the exercise of the highest seamanship from one British frigate, and had led another a merry dance in impotent pursuit. Property belonging to the enemy had been destroyed to the value of perhaps a million of dollars in round numbers, not to speak of the effect upon their pride by the bold cruising of the little brig of twelve 4-pound guns and seventy men. CHAPTER IV. THE CRUISE OF THE ALFRED. When his countrymen heard the story of this daring and successful cruise, Jones immediately became the most famous officer of the new navy. The _éclat_ he had gained by his brilliant voyage at once raised him from a more or less obscure position, and gave him a great reputation in the eyes of his countrymen, a reputation he did not thereafter lose. But Jones was not a man to live upon a reputation. He had scarcely arrived at Providence before he busied himself with plans for another undertaking. He had learned from prisoners taken on his last cruise that there were a number of American prisoners, at various places, who were undergoing hard labor in the coal mines of Cape Breton Island, and he conceived the bold design of freeing them if possible. We are here introduced to one striking characteristic, not the least noble among many, of this great man. The appeal of the prisoner always profoundly touched his heart. The freedom of his nature, his own passionate love for liberty and independence, the heritage of his Scotch hills perhaps, ever made him anxious and solicitous about those who languished in captivity. It was but the working out of that spirit which compelled him to relinquish his participation in the lucrative slave trade. In all his public actions, he kept before him as one of his principal objects the release of such of his countrymen as were undergoing the horrors of British prisons. [Illustration: Map showing the cruise of the first American squadron, and of the Providence and the Alfred.] The suggested enterprise found favor in the mind of Commodore Hopkins, who forthwith assigned Jones to the command of a squadron comprising the Alfred, the Providence, and the brigantine Hampden. Jones hoisted his flag on board the Alfred and hastened his preparations for departure. He found the greatest difficulty in manning his little squadron, and finally, in despair of getting a sufficient crew to man them all, he determined to set sail with the Alfred and the Hampden only, the latter vessel being commanded by Captain Hoysted Hacker. He received his orders on the 22d of October, and on the 27th the two vessels got under way from Providence. The wind was blowing fresh at the time, and Hacker, who seems to have been an indifferent sailor, ran the Hampden on a ledge of rock, where she was so badly wrecked as to be unseaworthy. Jones put back to his anchorage, and, having transferred the crew of the Hampden to the Providence, set sail on the 2d of November. Both vessels were very short-handed. The Alfred, whose proper complement was about three hundred, which had sailed from Philadelphia with two hundred and thirty-five, now could muster no more than one hundred and fifty all told. The two vessels were short of water, provisions, munitions, and everything else that goes to make up a ship of war. Jones made up for all this deficiency by his own personality. On the evening of the first day out the two vessels anchored in Tarpauling Cove, near Nantucket. There they found a Rhode Island privateer at anchor. In accordance with the orders of the commodore, Jones searched her for deserters, and from her took four men on board the Alfred. He was afterward sued in the sum of ten thousand pounds for this action, but, though the commodore, as he stated, abandoned him in his defense, nothing came of the suit. On the 3d of November, by skillful and successful maneuvering, the two ships passed through the heavy British fleet off Block Island, and squared away for the old cruising ground on the Grand Banks. In addition to the release of the prisoners there was another object in the cruise. A squadron of merchant vessels loaded with coal for the British army in New York was about to leave Louisburg under convoy. Jones determined to intercept them if possible. On the 13th, off Cape Canso again, the Alfred encountered the British armed transport Mellish, of ten guns, having on board one hundred and fifty soldiers. After a trifling resistance she was captured. She was loaded with arms, munitions of war, military supplies, and ten thousand suits of winter clothing, destined for Sir Guy Carleton's army in Canada. She was the most valuable prize which had yet fallen into the hands of the Americans. The warm clothing, especially, would be a godsend to the ragged, naked army of Washington. Of so much importance was this prize that Jones determined not to lose sight of her, and to convoy her into the harbor himself. Putting a prize crew on board, he gave instructions that she was to be scuttled if there appeared any danger of her recapture. About this time two other vessels were captured, one of which was a large fishing vessel, from which he was able to replenish his meager store of provisions. On the 14th of November a severe gale blew up from the northwest, accompanied by a violent snowstorm. Captain Hacker bore away to the southward before the storm and parted company during the night, returning incontinently to Newport. The weather continued execrable. Amid blinding snowstorms and fierce winter gales the Alfred and her prizes beat up along the desolate iron-bound shore. Jones again entered the harbor of Canso, and, finding a large English transport laden with provisions for the army aground on a shoal near the mouth of the harbor, sent a boat party which set her on fire. Seeing an immense warehouse filled with oil and material for whale and cod fisheries, the boats made a sudden dash for the shore, and, applying a torch to the building, it was soon consumed. Beating off the shore, still accompanied by his prizes, he continued up the coast of Cape Breton toward Louisburg, looking for the coal fleet. It was his good fortune to run across it in a dense fog. It consisted of a number of vessels under the convoy of the frigate Flora, a ship which would have made short work of him if she could have run across him. Favored by the impenetrable fog, with great address and hardihood Jones succeeded in capturing no less than three of the convoy, and escaped unnoticed with his prizes. Two days afterward he came across a heavily armed British privateer from Liverpool, which he took after a slight resistance. But now, when he attempted to make Louisburg to carry out his design of levying on the place and releasing the prisoners, he found that the harbor was closed by masses of ice, and that it was impossible to effect a landing. Indeed, his ships were in a perilous condition already. He had manned no less than six prizes, which had reduced his short crew almost to a prohibitive degree. On board the Alfred he had over one hundred and fifty prisoners, a number greatly in excess of his own men; his water casks were nearly empty, and his provisions were exhausted. He had six prizes with him, one of exceptional value. Nothing could be gained by lingering on the coast, and he decided, therefore, to return. The little squadron, under convoy of the Alfred and the armed privateer, which he had manned and placed under the command of Lieutenant Saunders, made its way toward the south in the fierce winter weather. Off St. George's Bank they again encountered the Milford. It was late in the afternoon when her topsails rose above the horizon. The wind was blowing fresh from the northwest; the Alfred and her prizes were on the starboard tack, the enemy was to windward. From his previous experience Jones was able fairly to estimate the speed of the Milford. A careful examination convinced him that it would be impossible for the latter to close with his ships before nightfall. He therefore placed the Alfred and the privateer between the English frigate lasking down upon them and the rest of his ships, and continued his course. He then signaled the prizes, with the exception of the privateer, that they should disregard any orders or signals which he might give in the night, and hold on as they were. The prizes were slow sailers, and, as the slowest necessarily set the pace for the whole squadron, the Milford gradually overhauled them. At the close of the short winter day, when the night fell and the darkness rendered sight of the pursued impossible, Jones showed a set of lantern signals, and, hanging a top light on the Alfred, right where it would be seen by the Englishmen, at midnight, followed by the privateer, he changed his course directly away from the prizes. The Milford promptly altered her course and pursued the light. The prizes, in obedience to their orders, held on as they were. At daybreak the prizes were nowhere to be seen, and the Milford was booming along after the privateer and the Alfred. To run was no part of Paul Jones' desires, and he determined to make a closer inspection of the Milford, with a view to engaging if a possibility of capturing her presented itself; so he bore up and headed for the oncoming British frigate. The privateer did the same. A nearer view, however, developed the strength of the enemy, and convinced him that it would be madness to attempt to engage with the Alfred and the privateer in the condition he then was, so he hauled aboard his port tacks once more, and, signaling to the privateer, stood off again. For some reason--Jones imagined that it was caused by a mistaken idea of the strength of the Milford--Saunders signaled to Jones that the Milford was of inferior force, and disregarding his orders foolishly ran down under her lee from a position of perfect safety, and was captured without a blow. The lack of proper subordination in the nascent navy of the United States brought about many disasters, and this was one of them. Jones characterized this as an act of folly; it is difficult to dismiss it thus mildly. I would fain do no man an injustice, but if a man wanted to be a traitor that is the way he would act. Jones' own account of this adventure, which follows, is of deep interest: "This led the Milford entirely out of the way of the prizes, and particularly the clothing ship, Mellish, for they were all out of sight in the morning. I had now to get out of the difficulty in the best way I could. In the morning we again tacked, and as the Milford did not make much appearance I was unwilling to quit her without a certainty of her superior force. She was out of shot, on the lee quarter, and as I could only see her bow, I ordered the letter of marque, Lieutenant Saunders, that held a much better wind than the Alfred, to drop slowly astern, until he could discover by a view of the enemy's side whether she was of superior or inferior force, and to make a signal accordingly. On seeing Mr. Saunders drop astern, the Milford wore suddenly and crowded sail toward the northeast. This raised in me such doubts as determined me to wear also, and give chase. Mr. Saunders steered by the wind, while the Milford went lasking, and the Alfred followed her with a pressed sail, so that Mr. Saunders was soon almost hull down to windward. At last the Milford tacked again, but I did not tack the Alfred till I had the enemy's side fairly open, and could plainly see her force. I then tacked about ten o'clock. The Alfred being too light to be steered by the wind, I bore away two points, while the Milford steered close by the wind, to gain the Alfred's wake; and by that means he dropped astern, notwithstanding his superior sailing. The weather, too, which became exceedingly squally, enabled me to outdo the Milford by carrying more sail. I began to be under no apprehension from the enemy's superiority, for there was every appearance of a severe gale, which really took place in the night. To my great surprise, however, Mr. Saunders, toward four o'clock, bore down on the Milford, made the signal of her inferior force, ran under her lee, and was taken!" With the exception of one small vessel, which was recaptured, the prizes all arrived safely, the precious Mellish finally reaching the harbor of Dartmouth. The Alfred dropped anchor at Boston, December 15, 1776. The news of the captured clothing reached Washington and gladdened his heart--and the hearts of his troops as well--on the eve of the battle of Trenton. The reward for this brilliant and successful cruise, the splendid results of which had been brought about by the most meager means, was an order relieving him of the command of the Alfred and assigning him to the Providence again. When he arrived at Philadelphia the next spring he found that by an act of Congress, on the 10th of October, 1776, which had created a number of captains in the navy, he, who had been first on the list of lieutenants, and therefore the sixth ranking sea officer, was now made the eighteenth captain. He was passed over by men who had no claim whatever to superiority on the score of their service to the Commonwealth, which had been inconsiderable or nothing at all. Indeed, there was no man in the country who by merit or achievement was entitled to precede him, except possibly Nicholas Biddle. If the friendless Scotsman had commanded more influence, more political prestige, so that he might have been rewarded for his auspicious services by placing him at the head of the navy, I venture to believe that some glorious chapters in our marine history would have been written. CHAPTER V. SUPERSEDED IN RANK--PROTESTS VAINLY AGAINST THE INJUSTICE--ORDERED TO COMMAND THE RANGER--HOISTS FIRST AMERICAN FLAG. The period between the termination of his last cruise and his assignment to his next important command was employed by Jones in vigorous and proper protests against the arbitrary action of Congress, which had deprived him of that position on the navy list which was his just due, were either merit, date of commission, or quality of service considered. To the ordinary citizen the question may appear of little interest, but to the professional soldier or sailor it is of the first importance. Indeed, it is impossible to conceive of properly maintaining an army or navy without regular promotion, definitive station, and adequate reward of merit. To feel that rank is temporary and position is at the will of unreasonable and irresponsible direction is to undermine service. The same injustice drove John Stark, of New Hampshire, to resign the service with the pithy observation that an officer who could not protect his own rights was unfit to be trusted with those of his country. It did not prevent his winning the fight at Bennington, though. The same treatment caused Daniel Morgan to seek that retirement from which he was only drawn forth by his country's peril to win the Battle of the Cowpens. And, lastly, it was the same treatment which, in part at least, made Arnold a traitor. Then, as ever, Congress was continually meddling with matters of purely military administration, to the very great detriment of the service. Jones has been censured as a jealous stickler for rank, a quibbler about petty distinctions in trying times. Such criticisms proceed from ignorance. If there were nothing else, rank means opportunity. The range of prospective enterprises is greater the higher the rank. The little Scotsman was properly tenacious of his prerogatives--we could not admire him if he were not so--and naturally exasperated by the arbitrary course of Congress, against which he protested with all the vehemence of his passionate, fiery, and--it must be confessed--somewhat irritable nature. On this subject he thus wrote to the Marine Board at Philadelphia: "I am now to inform you that by a letter from Commodore Hopkins, dated on board the Warren, January 14, 1777, which came to my hands a day or two ago, I am superseded in the command of the Alfred, in favour of Captain Hinman, and ordered back to the sloop in Providence River. Whether this order doth or doth not supersede also your orders to me of the 10th ult. you can best determine; however, as I undertook the late expedition at his (Commodore Hopkins') request, from a principle of humanity, I mean not now to make a difficulty about trifles, especially when the good of the service is to be consulted. As I am unconscious of any neglect of duty or misconduct, since my appointment at the first as eldest lieutenant of the navy, I can not suppose that you have intended to set me aside in favour of any man who did not at that time bear a captain's commission, unless, indeed, that man, by exerting his superior abilities, hath rendered or can render more important services to America. Those who stepped forth at the first, in ships altogether unfit for war, were generally considered as frantic rather than wise men, for it must be remembered that almost everything then made against them. And although the success in the affair with the Glasgow was not equal to what it might have been, yet the blame ought not to be general. The principal or principals in command alone are culpable, and the other officers, while they stand unimpeached, have their full merit. There were, it is true, divers persons, from misrepresentation, put into commission at the beginning, without fit qualification, and perhaps the number may have been increased by later appointments; but it follows not that the gentleman or man of merit should be neglected or overlooked on their account. None other than a gentleman, as well as a seaman both in theory and practice, is qualified to support the character of a commission officer in the navy; nor is any man fit to command a ship of war who is not also capable of communicating his ideas on paper, in language that becomes his rank. If this be admitted, the foregoing operations will be sufficiently clear; but if further proof is required it can easily be produced. "When I entered into the service I was not actuated by motives of self-interest. I stepped forth as a free citizen of the world, in defense of the violated rights of mankind, and not in search of riches, whereof, I thank God, I inherit a sufficiency; but I should prove my degeneracy were I not in the highest degree tenacious of my rank and seniority. As a gentleman I can yield this point up only to persons of superior abilities and superior merit, and under such persons it would be my highest ambition to learn. As this is the first time of my having expressed the least anxiety on my own account, I must entreat your patience until I account to you for the reason which hath given me this freedom of sentiment. It seems that Captain Hinman's commission is No. 1, and that, in consequence, he who was at first my junior officer by eight, _hath expressed himself as my senior officer_ in a manner which doth himself no honour, and which doth me signal injury. There are also in the navy persons who have not shown me fair play after the service I have rendered them. I have even been blamed for the civilities which I have shown to my prisoners, at the request of one of whom I herein inclose an appeal, which I must beg leave to lay before Congress. Could you see the appellant's accomplished lady, and the innocents their children, arguments in their behalf would be unnecessary. As the base-minded only are capable of inconsistencies, you will not blame my free soul, which can never stoop where I can not also esteem. Could I, which I never can, bear to be superseded, I should indeed deserve your contempt and total neglect. I am therefore to entreat you to employ me in the most enterprising and active service, accountable to your honourable board only for my conduct, and connected as much as possible with gentlemen and men of good sense." The letter does credit to his head and heart alike. Matter and manner are both admirable. In it he is at his best, and one paragraph shows that the generous sympathy he ever felt for a prisoner could even be extended to the enemies of his country, so that as far as he personally was concerned they should suffer no needless hardship in captivity. Considered as the production of a man whose life from boyhood had been mainly spent upon the sea in trading ships and slavers, with their limited opportunities for polite learning, and an entire absence of that refined society without which education rarely rises to the point of culture, the form and substance of Jones' letters are surprising. Of this and of most of the letters hereafter to be quoted only words of approbation may be used. A just yet modest appreciation of his own dignity, a proper and resolute determination to maintain it, a total failure to truckle to great men, an absence of sycophancy and hypocrisy, a clear insight into the requirements of a gentleman and an effortless rising to his own high standard without unpleasant self-assertion, are found in his correspondence. Considering the humble source from which he sprang, his words, written and spoken, equally with his deeds, indicate his rare qualities. It is probable that no disposition existed in Congress to do him an injustice--quite the reverse, in fact; but the claims of the representatives of the several States, which were insistently put forth in behalf of local individuals aspiring to naval station from the various colonies in which the different ships were building, were too strong to be disregarded. The central administration was at no time sufficiently firm for a really strong government, and conciliation and temporization were necessary. It was only by the very highest quality of tact that greater difficulties were overcome, and that more glaring acts of injustice were not perpetrated. So sensible were the authorities of Jones' conduct, so valuable had been his services on his last two cruises, that while they were unable at that time, in spite of his protests, to restore him to his proper place in the list, as a concession to his ability and merit orders were given him assigning him to the command of the squadron consisting of the Alfred, Columbus, Cabot, Hampden, and Providence, to operate against Pensacola. This was virtually creating him commander-in-chief of the naval forces, for outside the ships mentioned there were but few others worthy of consideration. Natural jealousy had, however, arisen in the mind of Hopkins, the commander-in-chief, at being thus superseded and ignored through one of his own subordinates by Congress, with which his relations had become so strained that he affected to disbelieve the validity of the order assigning Jones to this duty, and, refusing to comply therewith, retained the ships under his command. The matter thereupon fell through. Finding all efforts to secure the squadron and carry out these orders fruitless, Jones journeyed to Philadelphia for the purpose of emphatically placing before the Marine Committee his grievances. There a further shock awaited him. "My conduct hitherto," he writes on this subject in the memorial addressed to Congress from the Texel years after, "was so much approved of by Congress that on the 5th of February, 1777, I was appointed, with unlimited orders, to command a little squadron of the Alfred, Columbus, Cabot, Hampden, and sloop Providence. Various important services were pointed out, but I was left at free liberty to make my election. That service, however, did not take place; for the commodore, who had three of the squadron blocked in at Providence, affected to disbelieve my appointment, and would not at last give me the necessary assistance. Finding that he trifled with my applications as well as the orders of Congress, I undertook a journey from Boston to Philadelphia, in order to explain matters to Congress in person. I took this step also because Captain Hinman had succeeded me in the command of the Alfred, and, of course, the service could not suffer through my absence. I arrived at Philadelphia in the beginning of April. But what was my surprise to find that, by a new line of navy rank, which had taken place on the 10th day of October, 1776, all the officers that had stepped forth at the beginning were superseded! I was myself superseded by thirteen men, not one of whom did (and perhaps some of them durst not) take the sea against the British flag at the first; for several of them who were then applied to refused to venture, and none of them has since been very happy in proving their superior abilities. Among these thirteen there are individuals who can neither pretend to parts nor education, and with whom, as a private gentleman, I would disdain to associate. "I leave your excellency and the Congress to judge how this must affect a man of honour and sensibility. "I was told by President Hancock that what gave me so much pain had been the effect of a multiplicity of business. He acknowledged the injustice of that regulation, said it should make but a nominal and temporary difference, and that in the meantime I might assure myself that no navy officer stood higher in the opinion of Congress than myself." The complete news of his displacement and supersession in rank does not appear to have reached him before this. His efforts to secure the restoration of his rank proving useless, he applied for immediate sea duty. The next attempt on the part of the Marine Committee to gratify Jones's wish for active service, and avail themselves of his ability at the same time, took the shape of a resolution of Congress authorizing him to choose the best of three ships which it was proposed to purchase in Boston, which he was to command until some better provision could be made for him. He was ordered to that point to fit out the ship. During this period of harassing anxiety he gave great attention to formulating plans and making suggestions looking to a more effective organization of the new naval establishment. To Robert Morris, chairman of the committee, on different occasions, he communicated his views on this important subject in a series of valuable letters, of which the following are pertinent extracts: "As the regulations of the navy are of the utmost consequence, you will not think me presumptuous, if, with the utmost diffidence, I venture to communicate to you such hints as, in my judgment, will promote its honor and good government. I could heartily wish that every commissioned officer were to be previously examined; for, to my certain knowledge, there are persons who have already crept into commission without abilities or fit qualifications; I am myself far from desiring to be excused. From experience in ours, as well as from my former intimacy with many officers of note in the British navy, I am convinced that the parity of rank between sea and land or marine officers is of more consequence to the harmony of the sea service than has generally been imagined... I propose not our enemies as an example for our general imitation; yet, as their navy is the best regulated of any in the world, we must, in some degree, imitate them, and aim at such further improvement as may one day make ours vie with and exceed theirs." With regard to the difficulty of recruiting seamen, some of whom, finding the merchant service or coasting trade was broken up, had entered the army at the beginning of the war, while many more had engaged in privateering--a much more profitable vocation than the regular service--he says: "It is to the least degree distressing to contemplate the state and establishment of our navy. The common class of mankind are actuated by no nobler principle than that of self-interest; this, and this alone, determines all adventurers in privateers--the owners, as well as those whom they employ. And while this is the case, unless the private emolument of individuals in our navy is made superior to that in privateers, it can never become respectable, it will never become formidable. And without a respectable navy--alas! America. In the present critical situation of affairs human wisdom can suggest no more than one infallible expedient: enlist the seamen during pleasure, and give them all the prizes. What is the paltry emolument of two thirds of prizes to the finances of this vast continent? If so poor a resource is essential to its independence, in sober sadness we are involved in a woeful predicament, and our ruin is fast approaching. The situation of America is new in the annals of mankind; her affairs cry haste, and speed must answer them. Trifles, therefore, ought to be wholly disregarded, as being, in the old vulgar proverb, penny wise and pound foolish. If our enemies, with the best establishment and most formidable navy in the universe, have found it expedient to assign all prizes to the captors, how much more is such policy essential to our infant fleet! But I need use no arguments to convince you of the necessity of making the emoluments of our navy equal, if not superior, to theirs. We have had proof that a navy may be officered on almost any terms, but we are not so sure that these officers are equal to their commissions; nor will the Congress ever obtain such certainty until they in their wisdom see proper to appoint a board of admiralty competent to determine impartially the respective merits and abilities of their officers, and to superintend, regulate, and point out all the motions and operations of the navy." In another letter to Robert Morris he writes: "There are no officers more immediately wanted in the marine department than commissioners of dockyards, to superintend the building and outfits of all ships of war; with power to appoint deputies, to provide, and have in constant readiness, sufficient quantities of provisions, stores, and slops, so that the small number of ships we have may be constantly employed, and not continue idle, as they do at present. Besides all the advantages that would arise from such appointments, the saving which would accrue to the continent is worth attending to. Had such men been appointed at the first, the new ships might have been at sea long ago. The difficulty now lies in finding men who are deserving, and who are fitly qualified for an office of such importance." We are surprised at the clear insight of this untrained, inexperienced Scotsman, whom, by the way, I shall hereafter call an American. Most of his recommendations have long since been adopted in our own navy and other navies of the world. His conclusions are the results of his long and thorough professional study, his habits of application, his power of comprehension and faculty of clear and explicit statement. His observations would do credit to the most trained observer with large experience back of his observation. Another curious letter to a former friend on the island of Tobago, written at this time, which deals with certain investments in property with balances due him from his various trading ventures, contains the following statement: "As I hope my dear mother is still alive, I must inform you that I wish my property in Tobago, or in England, after paying my just debts, to be applied for her support. Your own feelings, my dear sir, make it unnecessary for me to use arguments to prevail with you on this tender point. Any remittances which you may be enabled to make, through the hands of my good friend Captain John Plainer, of Cork, will be faithfully put into her hands; she hath several orphan grandchildren to provide for." All of which plainly indicates that, though a citizen of another country and the bearer of another name, he still retained those natural feelings of affection which his enemies would fain persuade us were not in his being. While waiting at Boston for the purchase of the ships referred to, he was selected by Congress to command a heavy ship of war, a frigate to be called the Indien, then building at Amsterdam, which undoubtedly would be the most formidable vessel in the American service. This would be not only a just tribute to his merit, but would also solve the difficulty about relative rank, for he would be the highest ranking officer in Continental waters, and there could be no conflict of authority. He was directed to proceed at once to Europe to take command of this ship. The Marine Committee sent the following letter, addressed to the commissioners of the United States in Europe, to Paul Jones, for him to present to them on his arrival in France: "Philadelphia, _May 9, 1777_. "Honourable Gentlemen: This letter is intended to be delivered to you by John Paul Jones, Esquire, an active and brave commander in our navy, who has already performed signal services in vessels of little force; and, in reward for his zeal, we have directed him to go on board the Amphitrite, a French ship of twenty guns, that brought in a valuable cargo of stores from Messrs. Hortalez & Co.,[4] and with her to repair to France. He takes with him his commission, and some officers and men, so that we hope he will, under that sanction, make some good prizes with the Amphitrite; but our design of sending him is, with the approbation of Congress, that you may purchase one of those fine frigates that Mr. Deane writes us you can get, and invest him with the command thereof as soon as possible. We hope you may not delay this business one moment, but purchase, in such port or place in Europe as it can be done with most convenience and dispatch, a fine, fast-sailing frigate, or larger ship. Direct Captain Jones where he must repair to, and he will take with him his officers and men toward manning her. You will assign him some good house or agent, to supply him with everything necessary to get the ship speedily and well equipped and manned; somebody that will bestir himself vigorously in the business, and never quit it until it is accomplished. "If you have any plan or service to be performed in Europe by such a ship, that you think will be more for the interest and honour of the States than sending her out directly, Captain Jones is instructed to obey your orders; and, to save repetition, let him lay before you the instructions we have given him, and furnish you with a copy thereof. You can then judge what will be necessary for you to direct him in; and whatever you do will be approved, as it will undoubtedly tend to promote the public service of this country. "You see by this step how much dependence Congress places in your advices; and you must make it a point not to disappoint Captain Jones' wishes and expectations on this occasion." At the same time the committee sent the following letter to Jones himself: "Philadelphia, _May 9, 1777_. "Sir: Congress have thought proper to authorize the Secret Committee to employ you on a voyage in the Amphitrite, from Portsmouth to Carolina and France, where it is expected you will be provided with a fine frigate; and as your present commission is for the command of a particular ship, we now send you a new one, whereby you are appointed a captain in our navy, and of course may command any ship in the service to which you are particularly ordered. You are to obey the orders of the Secret Committee, and we are, sir, etc." The Amphitrite, which was to carry out Jones and the other officers and seamen to man the proposed frigate, was an armed merchantman. The French commander of the Amphitrite, however, made great difficulty with regard to surrendering his command to Jones, and even to receiving him and his men on board the ship, and through his persistent and vehement objections this promising arrangement likewise fell through. Jones continued his importunities for a command, however, his desire being then, as always, for active service. Finally, by the following resolutions passed by Congress on the 14th of June, he was appointed to the sloop of war Ranger, then nearing completion at Portsmouth, New Hampshire: "_Resolved_, That the flag of the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new constellation. "_Resolved_, That Captain Paul Jones be appointed to command the ship Ranger. "_Resolved_, That William Whipple, Esquire, member of Congress and of the Marine Committee, John Langdon, Esquire, Continental agent, and the said John Paul Jones be authorized to appoint lieutenants and other commissioned and warrant officers necessary for the said ship; and that blank commissions and warrants be sent them, to be filled up with the names of the persons they appoint, returns whereof to be made to the navy board in the Eastern Department." At last, having received something tangible, he hastened to Portsmouth as soon as his orders were delivered to him, and assumed the command. It is claimed, perhaps with justice, that his hand was the first to hoist the new flag of the Republic, the Stars and Stripes, to the masthead of a war ship, as it had been the first to hoist the first flag of any sort at the masthead of the Alfred, not quite two years before. The date of this striking event is not known. It is interesting to note the conjunction of Jones with the flag in this resolution; an association justified by his past, and to be further justified by his future, conduct, and by the curious relationship in which he was brought to the colors of the United States by his opportune action upon various occasions. The name of no other man is so associated with our flag as is his. CHAPTER VI. THE FIRST CRUISE OF THE RANGER--SALUTE TO THE AMERICAN FLAG. In spite of the most assiduous effort on the part of Jones, he was unable to get the Ranger ready for sea before October, and the following extract from another letter to the Marine Committee shows the difficulties under which he labored, and the inadequate equipment and outfit with which he finally sailed. "With all my industry I could not get the single suit of sails completed until the 20th current. Since that time the winds and weather have laid me under the necessity of continuing in port. At this time it blows a very heavy gale from the northeast. The ship with difficulty rides it out, with yards and topmasts struck, and whole cables ahead. When it clears up I expect the wind from the northwest, and shall not fail to embrace it, although I have not a spare sail nor materials to make one. Some of those I have are made of hissings.[5] I never before had so disagreeable service to perform as that which I have now accomplished, and of which another will claim the credit as well as the profit. However, in doing my utmost, I am sensible that I have done no more than my duty." The instructions under which Jones sailed for Europe are outlined in the following orders from the Marine Committee: "As soon as these instructions get to hand you are to make immediate application to the proper persons to get your vessel victualed and fitted for sea with all expedition. When this is done you are to proceed on a voyage to some convenient port in France; on your arrival there, apply to the agent, if any, in or near said port, for such supplies as you may stand in need of. You are at the same time to give immediate notice, by letter, to the Honourable Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane, and Arthur Lee, Esquires, or any of them at Paris, of your arrival, requesting their instructions as to your further destination, which instructions you are to obey as far as it shall be in your power. "You are to take particular notice that while on the coast of France, or in a French port, you are, as much as you conveniently can, to keep your guns covered and concealed, and to make as little warlike appearance as possible." In the original plan the ship was heavily over-armed, being pierced for twenty-six guns. Considering her size and slight construction, Jones exercised his usual good judgment by refusing to take more than eighteen guns, the ordinary complement for a ship of her class. These were 6-pounders manufactured in the United States and ill proportioned, being several calibres short in the length of the barrel, according to a statement of the captain--a most serious defect. To all these disabilities was added an inefficient and insubordinate first lieutenant named Simpson, who probably had been appointed to this responsible position on account of the considerable family influence which was back of him. He was related to the Hancocks among others. The crew was a fair one, but was spoiled eventually by the example of Simpson and other officers. On the first of November, 1777, the imperfectly provided Ranger took her departure from Portsmouth bound for Europe. Her captain laments the fact that she had but thirty gallons of rum aboard for the men to drink, a serious defect in those grog-serving days. Before sailing, Jones made large advances from his private funds to the men, the Government being already in his debt to the amount of fifteen hundred pounds, for previous advances to the men of the Alfred and the Providence. None of these advances were repaid until years after. These facts are evidence, by the way, that he had finally realized considerable sums of money from his brother's estate, for he had no other financial resource save his West Indian investments, which were worth nothing to him at this time. Wickes, Johnston, and Cunningham, in the Reprisal, Lexington, Surprise, and Revenge, insignificant vessels of inferior force, had by their brilliant and successful cruising in the English Channel demonstrated the possibility of operations against British commerce in that supposedly safe quarter of the ocean. Paul Jones was now to undertake, upon a larger scale, similar operations with much more astounding results. On the way over, two prizes, both brigantines, laden with wine and fruit, were captured. Nearing the other side, the Ranger fell in with ten sail of merchantmen from the Mediterranean, under convoy of the line of battle ship Invincible, 74. Jones made strenuous efforts to cut out one of the convoy, but they clung so closely to the line of battle ship that he found it impossible to bring about his design, though he remained in sight of the convoy during one whole day. Had the Ranger been swifter or handier, he might have effected something, but she was very crank and slow as well. On the 2d of December the sloop of war dropped anchor in the harbor of Nantes. Jones sent his letters and instructions to the commissioners, and had the pleasure of confirming to them the news of the surrender of Burgoyne and his army, which was probably the most important factor in bringing about the subsequent alliance between America and France. While awaiting a reply to his letters he busied himself in repairing the defects and weaknesses of his ship so far as his limited means permitted. Her trim was altered, ballast restowed, and a large quantity of lead taken on board; the lower masts were shortened several feet, and every other change which his skill and experience dictated was made on the ship. The results greatly conduced to her efficiency. It may be stated here that Jones was a thorough and accomplished seaman, and no man was capable of getting more out of a ship than he. From a slow, crank, unwieldy vessel he developed the sloop of war into a handy, amenable ship, and very much increased her speed. In January, 1778, in obedience to instructions from the commissioners, he visited them in Paris and explained to them in detail his proposed plan of action. Alone among the naval commanders of his day does he appear to have appreciated that commerce destroying can be best carried on and the enemy most injured by concentrated attacks by mobile and efficient force upon large bodies of shipping in harbors and home ports, rather than by sporadic cruising in more or less frequented seas. He had come across with the hope of taking command of the fine frigate Indien, then building in Holland, and then, with the Ranger and such other ships as might be procured, carrying out his ideas by a series of bold descents upon the English coasts. But while the ministers of the King of France were hesitating, or perhaps better perfecting their plans preparatory to announcing an alliance offensive and defensive with this country, it was deemed of the utmost importance that no occasion should be given the British which would enable them unduly to hasten the course of events. The suspicion of the British Government was aroused with respect to the Indien, however, and it was thought best, under the circumstances, to pretend that she was being made for the Government of France, with which England was then nominally at peace. In any event, work upon her had been so delayed that she was very far from completion, and would not have been available for months. Thus was Jones deprived of the enjoyment of this command, to his great personal regret, to the disarrangement of his plans, and to the detriment of the cause he was so gallantly to support. There was no other ship nor were any smaller vessels then available for him, and he was therefore of necessity continued in the command of the Ranger. This in itself was annoying, and produced a sequence of events of a most unfortunate character. Lieutenant Simpson had been promised the command of the Ranger when Jones took over the Indien, and the failure to keep this promise entailed by the circumstances mentioned, embittered Simpson to such a degree that his efficiency--never of the first order--was greatly impaired, and so long as he remained under the command of Jones he was a smoldering brand of discontent and disobedience. On the 10th of January Jones, who had rejoined his ship, wrote at great length to Silas Deane, one of the commissioners, suggesting a plan whereby, in case the proposed alliance between France and the rebellious colonies were consummated, a magnificent blow might be struck against England, and the cause of the Revolution thereby greatly furthered. He urged that Admiral D'Estaing should be dispatched with a great fleet to pen up and capture Lord Howe, then operating in the Delaware with an inferior fleet. There is no doubt that this conception was essentially sound, and if he himself could have been intrusted with the carrying out of the plan the results would have been most happy; but, in order to effect anything, in peace or war, prompt action is as necessary as careful planning and wise decision. When the French did finally adopt the plan they found that their dilatory proceedings, their failure to take immediate advantage of past preparation, and their substitution of Toulon for Brest as a naval point of departure, doomed the enterprise to failure. Lord Howe, hearing of the attempt, and realizing his precarious and indefensive position in the Delaware, made haste to return to his old anchorage in New York. When D'Estaing, urged by Washington, arrived off the harbor, he was deterred from attacking Lord Howe's inferior force by the representations of the pilots, who stated that there was not enough water on the bar for the greater ships of the line. While, therefore, Jones' suggestion came to nothing, it is interesting and instructive to contemplate this project of his fertile brain. Another enterprise proposed by him involved an expedition to take the island of St. Helena, and with it as a base of attack attempt the capture of the numerous Indiamen which either stopped at Jamestown or passed near the island. This too was unheeded. While these matters were under consideration, the Ranger sailed from Nantes to Quiberon Bay early in February, 1778, having under convoy several American trading ships which were desirous of joining a great fleet of merchant vessels assembling at that point. These vessels were to be convoyed past Cape Finisterre on their way across the Atlantic by a heavy French squadron of five line of battle ships and several frigates and sloops under the command of La Motte Piquet. On the 13th of February the Ranger hove to off the bay. The wind was blowing furiously, as it frequently does on the rocky confines of that bold shore, off which a few years before the great Lord Hawke had signally defeated Conflans; but, instead of running to an anchorage immediately, Jones sent a boat ashore, and through the American resident agent communicated to the French commander his intention of entering the bay the next day and saluting him; asking, as was customary, that the salute be returned. The French admiral courteously replied that he would return four guns less than the number he received, his instructions being to that effect, and in accordance with the custom of his navy when an interchange of sea courtesies took place between the fleets of France and those of a republic. This was not satisfactory to the doughty American, and he addressed the following letter to the American agent for the French commander: "_February 14, 1778_. "Dear Sir: I am extremely sorry to give you fresh trouble, but I think the admiral's answer of yesterday requires an explanation. The haughty English return gun for gun to foreign officers of equal rank, and two less only to captains by flag officers. It is true, my command at present is not important, yet, as the senior American officer at present in Europe, it is my duty to claim an equal return of respect to the flag of the United States that would be shown to any other flag whatever. "I therefore take the liberty of inclosing an appointment, perhaps as respectable as any which the French admiral can produce; besides which, I have others in my possession. "If, however, he persists in refusing to return an equal salute, I will accept of two guns less, as I have not the rank of admiral. "It is my opinion that he would return four less to a privateer or a merchant ship; therefore, as I have been honoured oftener than once with a chief command of ships of war, I can not in honour accept of the same terms of respect. "You will singularly oblige me by waiting upon the admiral; and I ardently hope you will succeed in the application, else I shall be under a necessity of departing without coming into the bay. "I have the honour to be, etc. "To William Carmichael, Esq. "N. B.--Though thirteen guns is your greatest salute in America, yet if the French admiral should prefer a greater number he has his choice _on conditions_." A great stickler for his rights and for all the prerogatives of his station was John Paul Jones. In this instance he was maintaining the dignity of the United States by insisting upon a proper recognition of his command. However, having learned afterward that the contention of the French admiral was correct, Jones determined to accept the indicated return, realizing with his usual keenness that the gist of the matter lay in receiving any salute rather than in the number of guns which it comprised; so the Ranger got under way late in the evening of the 14th, and beat in toward the harbor. It was almost dark when she drew abreast the great French flagship. Backing his main-topsail, the 6-pounders on the main deck of the Ranger barked out their salute of thirteen guns, which was promptly returned by the French commander with nine heavy guns from the battle ship. It was the first time the Stars and Stripes had been saluted on the high seas. It was, in fact, the first official recognition of the existence of this new power by the authorized military representatives of any civilized nation. A Dutch governor of St. Eustatius, a year before, had saluted an American ensign--not the Stars and Stripes, of course--on one of our cruisers, but the act had been disavowed and the governor promptly recalled for his presumption. As this little transaction between Paul Jones and La Motte Piquet had occurred so late at night, the American sent word to the Frenchman that he proposed to sail through his line in broad daylight on the morrow, with the brig Independence, a privateer temporarily attached to his command, and salute him in the open light of day. With great good humor and complaisance, La Motte Piquet again expressed his intention of responding. Accordingly, the next morning, Jones repaired on board the Independence, which had been lying to during the night outside of signal distance, and, having made everything as smart and as shipshape as possible on the little vessel, with the newest and brightest of American ensigns flying from every masthead, the little brig sailed past the towering walls of the great ships of the line, saluting and receiving their reply. There were no doubts in any one's mind as to the reality of the salute to the flag after that! It must have been a proud moment for the man who had hoisted the pine-tree flag for the first time on the Alfred; for the man who had been the first officer of the American navy to receive promotion; for the man who had first flung the Stars and Stripes to the breeze from the masthead of a ship; for the man who, in his little vessel, trifling and inconsiderable as she was, was yet about to maintain the honor of that flag with unexampled heroism in the home waters and in the presence of the proudest, most splendid, and most efficient navy of the world. That 15th of February, that bright, cold, clear winter morning, is one of the memorable anniversaries in the history of our nation. Writing to the Marine Committee on the 22d of February, 1778, he says: "I am happy in having it in my power to congratulate you on my having seen the American flag for the first time recognized in the fullest and completest manner by the flag of France. I was off their bay the 13th instant, and sent my boat in the next day, to know if the admiral would return my salute. He answered that he would return to me, as the senior American Continental officer in Europe, the same salute which he was authorized by his court to return to an admiral of Holland, or any other republic, which was four guns less than the salute given. I hesitated at this, for I demanded gun for gun. Therefore I anchored in the entrance of the bay, at a distance from the French fleet; but, after a very particular inquiry on the 14th, finding that he had really told the truth, I was induced to accept of his offer, the more so as it was, in fact, an acknowledgment of American independence. The wind being contrary and blowing hard, it was after sunset before the Ranger got near enough to salute La Motte Piquet with thirteen guns, which he returned with nine. However, to put the matter beyond a doubt, I did not suffer the Independence to salute till next morning, when I sent the admiral word that I would sail through his fleet in the brig, and would salute him in open day. He was exceedingly pleased, and he returned the compliment also with nine guns." The much-talked-of treaty of alliance between France and the United States had been secretly signed six days before, but neither of the participants of this interchange of sea courtesies was then aware of this fact. Having discharged his duties by placing the merchant ships he had convoyed under La Motte Piquet's command, Jones left Quiberon Bay and went to Brest, where there was assembled a great French fleet under the famous Comte D'Orvilliers. Jones had the pleasure of again receiving, by the courtesy of that gallant officer, a reply to the Ranger's salute from the great guns of the flagship La Bretagne. The Frenchman, whose acquaintance Jones promptly made, was much attracted by his daring and ingenuous personality, and, having been advised of the disappointment caused by the loss of the Indien, he offered to procure him a commission as a captain in the French navy and assign him to a heavy frigate instead of the petty sloop of war at present under his command--an unprecedented honor. Had Jones been the mere soldier of fortune which his enemies have endeavored to maintain he was, this brilliant offer would have met with a ready acceptance. The French marine, through the strenuous efforts of the king and his ministers, was then in a most flourishing condition. The terrific defeats at the close of the century and the beginning of the next were still in the womb of events and had not been brought forth, and the prospects of its success were exceedingly brilliant. With the backing of D'Orvilliers and his own capacity, speedy promotion and advancement might easily be predicted for the American. He refused decisively to accept the flattering offer, and remained with the Ranger. On the 10th of April, having done what he could to put the ship in efficient trim, he sailed from Brest under the following orders: "Paris, _January 16, 1778_. "Sir: As it is not in our power to procure you such a ship as you expected, we advise you, after equipping the Ranger in the best manner for the cruise you propose, that you proceed with her in the manner you shall judge best for distressing the enemies of the United States, by sea or otherwise, consistent with the laws of war and the terms of your commission." (Directions here follow for sending prizes taken on the coasts of France and Spain into Bilboa or Corogne, unless the danger was too great, in which case they were to be sent to L'Orient or Bordeaux.) "If you make an attempt on the coast of Great Britain we advise you not to return immediately into the ports of France, unless forced by stress of weather or the pursuit of the enemy; and in such case you can make the proper representation to the officers of the port, and acquaint us with your situation. We rely on your ability, as well as your zeal, to serve the United States, and therefore do not give you particular instructions as to your operations. We must caution you against giving any cause of complaint to the subjects of France or Spain, or of other neutral powers, and recommend it to you to show them every proper mark of respect and real civility which may be in your power." These orders had been dated and issued to him some months before, but were not modified or revoked in the interim. He was given an opportunity to carry out so much of his proposed plan for attacking the English coast as was possible with his single ship. CHAPTER VII. THE SECOND CRUISE OF THE RANGER--THE DESCENT ON WHITEHAVEN--THE ATTEMPT ON LORD SELKIRK--THE CAPTURE OF THE DRAKE. The first few days of the cruise were uneventful. On the 14th of April, 1778, between the Scilly Isles and Cape Clear, the Ranger captured a brig bound for Ireland loaded with flaxseed. As the prize and her cargo were not worth sending in, the vessel was burned at sea. On the 17th, off St. George's Channel, they overhauled a large ship, the Lord Chatham, loaded with porter _en route_ from London to Dublin. The ship and cargo being of great value--one likes to think how the porter must have appealed to the seamen, who, it is quite likely, were permitted to regale themselves to a limited extent from the cargo--she was manned and sent back to Brest as a prize. After this capture Jones proceeded up the Irish Channel, heading to the northeast, and on the 18th, finding himself off the northern extremity of the Isle of Man, and in line with Whitehaven, he attempted to carry out a preconceived project of destroying the shipping in the port; being determined, as he says, by one great burning of ships to put an end to the burnings and ravagings and maraudings of the British upon the undefended coasts of North America. The wind was blowing from the east, and he beat up against it toward the town, where he hoped to find a large number of ships in the harbor. The adverse wind delayed him, however, and it was not until ten o'clock at night that the Ranger reached a point from which it was practicable to dispatch the boats. Preparations were hastily made, and the boats were called away and manned by volunteers. The boats were already in the water when the wind suddenly shifted and blew hard on shore, so that the Ranger was forced to beat out to sea promptly to avoid taking ground on the shoals under her lee. The expedition, therefore, for that time, was abandoned, the boats were swung up to the davits, and the Ranger filled away again. The next morning, off the Mull of Galloway, they captured a schooner loaded with barley and sunk her. Learning from some prisoners that ten or twelve large ships, under the protection of a small tender, were anchored in Lochvyau, Scotland, Jones ran for that harbor, intending to destroy them, but the variable weather, as before, interfered with his plans, and a sudden squall drove the Ranger into the open once more and saved the ships. He captured and sunk a small Irish fishing sloop, making prisoners of the fishermen, that same afternoon. The sloop was of no value to Jones, and he would have let her go had it not been that he feared the alarm would be given. He treated the fishermen kindly, however, and, as we shall see, in the end they suffered no loss from his action. On the 20th he captured a sloop loaded with grain, and on the 21st, off Carrickfergus, he took another small fishing boat. Learning from the fishermen that the British man-of-war Drake, twenty guns and a hundred and fifty men, was lying at anchor in Belfast Lough, he promptly determined upon a bold scheme to effect her capture. Beating to and fro off the mouth of the Lough until the evening, as soon as it was dark he ran for the harbor, proposing to lay his vessel athwart the hawse of the Drake, lying unsuspiciously at anchor, drop his own anchor over the cable of the English sloop of war, and capture her by boarding. Every preparation was made to carry out this brilliant _coup de main_. The crew were mustered at quarters, armed for boarding with pike or cutlass and pistol, the best shots were told off to sweep the decks of the Drake with small-arm fire, guns were loaded and primed, and so on. It was blowing heavily as the Ranger under reduced canvas dashed gallantly into the harbor. With masterly seamanship Jones brought her to in exactly the right position, and gave the order to let go the anchor. His orders were not obeyed, through the negligence of a drunken boatswain, it was said, and the anchor was not dropped until the Ranger had drifted down past the lee quarter of the Drake, when she brought up. The position of the American was now one of extreme peril. The Ranger lay under the broadside of the Drake, subjected to her fire and unable to make reply. The watch kept on the British ship, however, must have been very careless. In the darkness of the night, too, the guns of the Ranger being run in, it is probable that if they observed her they took her for a clumsy merchantman. Enjoining perfect silence on the part of his crew, with the greatest coolness Jones took the necessary steps to extricate the vessel from her dangerous position. The cable was cut, sail made, and under a heavy press of canvas the Ranger beat out of the harbor, barely clearing the entrance, and only escaping wreck by the consummate ability of her captain. The plan was brilliantly conceived, and would have been successful but for the mischance, or delay, in dropping the anchor. The crew originally was only a fair one, as has been stated, and, owing to the fact that their wages had not been paid, they were in a more or less mutinous state by this time. Jones was covetous of glory only. A less mercenary man never lived. To fight and conquer was his aim, but in this he radically differed from the ideas of his officers and men. Where he wrote honor and fame they saw plunder and prize money, and it was sometimes difficult to get them to obey orders and properly to work the ship. After leaving Belfast the Ranger ratched over to the southern coast of Scotland to ride out the sudden and furious gale under the lee of the land. The wind had abated by the morning of the 22d, and the sun rose bright and clear, discovering from the of the Ranger a beautiful prospect of the three kingdoms covered with snow as far as the eye could see. The wind now set fair for Whitehaven, and Jones squared away for that port to carry out his previous project. The breeze fell during the day, however, and it was not until midnight that the boats were called away. The expedition comprised two boats, carrying thirty-one officers and men, all volunteers, Jones himself being in command of one boat, while Lieutenant Wallingford, one of the best officers of the ship, had the other. Simpson and the second lieutenant both pleaded indisposition and fatigue as excuse for not going on the expedition. The tide was ebbing, and it was not until nearly dawn, after a long, hard pull, that the two boats reached the harbor, which was divided into two parts at that time by a long stone pier. There were from seventy to one hundred ships on the north side of the pier, and about twice as many on the south side, ranging in size from two hundred to four hundred tons. As the tide was out, the ships were all aground, lying high and dry upon the beach, and in close touch with each other. Directing Wallingford to set fire to the ships on the north side of the pier, Jones and his party landed and advanced toward the fort which protected the harbor. The weather was raw and cold, the fort was old and dilapidated, and manned by a few men. The sentry, ignorant of the presence of any foe, never dreaming of an enemy within a thousand miles of him, had calmly retired to the sentry box. Probably he was asleep. The little party approached the walls without being detected. Climbing upon the shoulder of one of his men, Jones sprang over the rampart, where he was followed by the rest of the party. The feeble garrison was captured without striking a blow. The guns were hastily spiked. Ordering the prisoners to be marched down to the wharf, and throwing out a few sentries, Jones, attended by a single midshipman, then made his way to the other fort or battery, a distance of about half a mile. Finding it untenanted, he spiked the few guns mounted there and returned to the landing place. To his very great surprise and disappointment, no evidence of a conflagration was apparent. When he reached the wharf he was met by Wallingford, who explained his failure to fire the shipping by claiming that his lights had gone out. It was before the days of lucifer matches, and the party had carried candles in lanterns with which to kindle the fires. Wallingford excused himself by a remark which does more credit to his heart than to his head, to the effect that he could not see that anything was to be gained by burning poor people's property. Inasmuch as he was sent on the expedition to obey orders and not to philosophize, his statement gives the key to the disposition among the officers and crew. Whether his hesitation was dictated by charity to others or lack of possible profit to the officers and men it is not necessary to inquire particularly now, for Wallingford redeemed himself nobly later in the cruise. A hasty inspection revealed the fact that the candles had also burned out, or had been extinguished through carelessness, in Jones' own boat. It was now broad daylight, and considerations of safety indicated an immediate return to the ship; but Jones was not willing to abandon his brilliantly conceived, carefully prepared, and coolly undertaken enterprise without some measure of success. Re-posting his sentries, therefore, he dispatched messengers who broke into a neighboring dwelling house and procured a light in the shape of a torch or glowing ember. With his own hand Jones kindled a fire on one of the largest ships in the midst of the huddle of vessels on the beach. In order to insure a thorough conflagration, a hasty search through the other vessels was made, and a barrel of tar was found which was poured upon the flames now burning fiercely. One of the boat party, named David Freeman, happened to be an Englishman. In the confusion attendant upon these various maneuvers he made off, and, escaping observation, sought shelter in the town, which he quickly alarmed. The inhabitants came swarming out of their houses in the gray of the morning and hastened toward the wharf. Seeing that the fire on the ship was at last blazing furiously, and realizing that nothing more could be effected, Jones ordered his men to their boats. Then, in order that the fire already kindled might have sufficient time to develop, the undaunted captain stood alone on the wharf, pistol in hand, confronting the ever-increasing crowd. Impelled by pressure from behind, those in front finally made a movement toward him. He gave no ground whatever. Pointing his weapons at the front rank, he sternly bade them retire, which they did with precipitation. I should think so. Having remained a sufficient time, as he thought, he calmly entered the boat and was rowed to the Ranger. Some of the inhabitants promptly made a dash for the burning ship, and succeeded by hard work in confining the fire to that one vessel. Others released the prisoners which Jones left bound on the wharf, taking, as he said, only two or three for a sample. The soldiers ran to the fort and managed to draw the hastily applied spikes from two or three of the guns, which they loaded and fired after the retreating boats. Answering the harmless fusillade with a few derisive musket shots, Jones returned to the Ranger; having had, he says, the pleasure of neither inflicting nor receiving any loss in killed or wounded. The desertion and treachery of David Freeman undoubtedly saved the shipping. The enterprise was well conceived and carried out with the utmost coolness. Had the orders of Captain Jones been obeyed, the shipping would have been completely destroyed. As it was, the descent created the greatest consternation in England. No enemy had landed on those shores for generations, and the expedition by Jones was like slapping the face of the king on his throne. A burning wave of indignation swept over England, as the news was carried from town to town, from hall to hall, and from hamlet to hamlet. It was all very well to burn property in America, but the matter had a different aspect entirely when the burning took place in England. A universal demand arose for the capture of this audacious seaman, who was called many hard names by the infuriated British. From Whitehaven the Ranger ran over to St. Mary's Isle, a beautifully wooded promontory at the mouth of the River Dee, which was the seat of the Earl of Selkirk. In furtherance of his usual desire to ameliorate the wretched condition of the Americans in British prisons, Jones determined to seize the earl. He cherished the hope that by securing the person of a peer of the realm, who could be either held as a hostage or exchanged for some prominent American captive, he could thus effect a recognition of the principle of exchange, which the British had refused to consider. It was a wild hope, to be sure, but not without a certain plausibility. Two boat crews under the command of Lieutenants Simpson and Hall, with himself in charge of the expedition, landed on the shore. Before moving toward the hall, Jones learned that the earl was not at home. He proposed, therefore, to return to the ship, but the mutinous men demurred fiercely to this suggestion, and demanded that they be permitted to enjoy the opportunity for plunder presented. The situation was a precarious one, and Jones finally agreed, although very reluctantly, that they should demand the family silver from the Countess of Selkirk, who was at home. He did this with the full intention of purchasing the silver on his own account when the prizes were disposed of, and returning it to the earl. A party of the men, therefore, with Simpson and Hall, went up to the house, leaving Jones pacing to and fro near the shore under the oaks and chestnuts of the estate. By Jones' orders the seamen did not enter the house. Simpson and Hall were ushered into the presence of the Lady Selkirk, made their demand upon her ladyship, received the silver, which the butler gathered up for them, and retired without molesting or harming any of the inmates or endeavoring to appropriate anything except what was given them. The men drank her ladyship's health in good Scots whisky, which was served them by the countess' orders. The party then embarked on the Ranger. One of his biographers has said that the whole transaction was an evidence of the singular ability of Jones in creating difficulties which it afterward required greater labor to overcome; but the criticism is unfair. The only way in which he could satisfy the demands of his men and maintain even that precarious authority which the peculiar constitution of the crew and the character of his officers enabled him to have, was by permitting them to take something of value which could be turned into prize money. He could buy it from the prize court, or from the prize master, as well as any other man, and after it became his own property he could return it to its proper owners at his pleasure. It was a perfectly legitimate transaction on his part, and he could only obviate the necessity by taking the proposed value of the silver out of his own pocket and handing it to his men, a proceeding which would have been subversive of the last remains of discipline, and therefore could not be considered for a moment. It would establish a precedent which could not be carried out in the future unless he were willing to abrogate his right of command; if he began that way he would have to buy their acquiescence to every command--bribe them to obey orders; so he said nothing whatever to them about his intentions with regard to the plate at present. Standing away from St. Mary's Isle on the morning of the 24th, the Ranger came in sight once more of Carrickfergus. By this time her presence on the Irish coast had become well known, and expresses had been sent to the Drake with information of the propinquity of the enemy. In the afternoon the Ranger appeared in the offing easily visible from the Drake. The commander of the Drake, Captain George Burdon, with singular stupidity, sent a lieutenant and a boat off toward the Ranger to investigate and report what she was, meanwhile getting his ship under way and clearing for action. The boat foolishly came alongside the Ranger and was captured. As Burdon weighed anchor he was joined by Lieutenant William Dobbs, engaged on recruiting duty in the vicinity, and a band of volunteers ranging in number, according to different reports, from ten to forty. The regular complement of the Drake was one hundred and fifty officers and men. This re-enforcement raised her crew to between one hundred and sixty and one hundred and ninety. It was developed at the court-martial, which was held upon the survivors some months after for the loss of the ship, that the Drake was poorly prepared for action; that she was short of commissioned and warrant officers and skilled men; that her powder charges were bad, matches poor, cartridges unfilled, and that her guns were badly mounted, so that they were easily "overset," and so on. In short, the whole catalogue of usual excuses for failure is given. It is true that although the Drake carried two more guns than the Ranger, they were of smaller caliber, being 4-pounders. Still, the two ships were well matched, and preparedness for action has always been considered a test of naval ability as much as capacity in maneuvering and courage in the actual fight. The wind was now blowing toward the shore, and the Drake made but slow progress in ratching toward the sea. While the Ranger awaited her, the guns were run in and the English flag hoisted on the approach of the Drake's boat, and the character of the American disguised as much as possible. I presume that, save for her armament, she looked more like a merchant vessel than anything else, and, as Jones skillfully kept the sloop end on to the cutter, the British suspected, or at least discovered, nothing. Indeed, so well was the deception carried out that the Drake's officer actually boarded the Ranger and was made prisoner with his crew before he discovered her quality. Meanwhile things were almost in a state of mutiny. Jones states in his journal that he was in peril of his life from his recalcitrant crew, who, under the leadership of Simpson, were apparently appalled at the prospect of encountering a regular man-of-war, and therefore manifested a great unwillingness to fight. Plunder without danger was the end of their ambition. However, after the capture of the Drake's boat, by putting a bold front on the situation, Jones succeeded in restoring comparative order and getting his men to their quarters. His power of persuasive and inspiring speech never stood him in better stead than on this occasion, and he actually seems to have succeeded in infusing some of his own spirit into the refractory men. It was late in the evening before the Drake neared the Ranger. Jones had stood out to sea to draw his pursuer far away from the land to prevent his escape in case of defeat, and now awaited his advance. The Drake was accompanied by several pleasure yachts filled with people who were desirous of seeing the English victory, which was almost universally attendant upon single ship actions in which the British navy participated; but, not liking the look of things in this instance, they one by one dropped astern and returned to the land. Between five and six o'clock, having come within easy distance, an officer of the Drake sprang on the rail and hailed, demanding to know the name of the stranger. Jones, still keeping the stern of his ship toward the bow of the enemy, seized the trumpet and replied: "This is the American Continental ship Ranger. We are waiting for you. The sun is scarce an hour high. It is time to begin. Come on!" While he was amusing the English captain with this rather lengthy rejoinder for the purpose of gaining time, the Stars and Stripes supplanted the red ensign of England, the helm of the Ranger, which was to windward of her antagonist, was suddenly put up, and by smart handling, in the twinkling of an eye she was rushed across the bow of the Drake, which was severely raked by a prompt broadside at short range. As Jones shifted his helm so as not to lose the weather gauge, the advantage of the first hard blow was clearly with the Americans. The English captain, after an attempt to cross her stern, which was frustrated by Jones' promptness, ran off by the side of the Ranger, and the combat resolved itself into a fair and square yardarm to yardarm fight, which was continued with the most determined persistence on both sides. The two ships under the gentle breeze sailed side by side, gradually nearing, and poured a furious fire upon each other. The lack of preparedness on the English ship was manifested in the slowness and inaccuracy of her gun practice. That of the Ranger, however, was very effective. An hour and five minutes after the first broadside the enemy called for quarter and hauled down the flag. The Drake was a wreck. Her fore and main topsail yards were cut adrift and lying on the caps; the fore topgallant yard and the spanker gaff were hanging up and down their respective masts; two ensigns had been shot away, and another one was hanging over the quarter galley and dragging in the water. The jib was dragging under her forefoot; her sails and rigging were entirely cut to pieces, most of the yards wounded, and her hull very much shattered. Many of her guns were dismounted, and she had lost, according to the statement of the Americans, forty-two[6] men in killed and wounded (or about twenty per cent of her force!), including her captain, who had been struck in the head by a musket ball at the close of the action, about a minute before the ship surrendered; the gallant first lieutenant, Dobbs, who had bravely volunteered for service, was so severely wounded that he survived the action only two days. Captain Burdon was still living when Jones boarded the prize, but died a few moments after. The Americans lost two killed, among them being poor Wallingford, whose death has somewhat redeemed him from his failure to obey orders in the raid on Whitehaven. There were six wounded on the Ranger, including the gunner and a midshipman who lost his arm; one of the wounded subsequently died. The action was a sharp and brilliant one. Jones had maneuvered and fought his ship with his usual skill and courage, and had given fair evidence of what might be expected from him with a better vessel and better men under his command. The English captain had been outmaneuvered when he permitted the American to rake him, and he had been outfought in the action. Unpreparedness was the cause of the failure of the Drake to make a better showing in the fight. This lack must be laid at the captain's door. It is the business of a captain to see that things are ready. The deficiencies in the Drake's equipment were counterbalanced by equal deficiencies on the part of the Ranger. The apparent preponderance of the latter's gun power was, in fact, minimized by the shortening of her guns, of which Jones had previously complained. It is probable that the Drake had a better crew, and such officers as she had were probably better than those under Jones, with a few exceptions. It is always the custom of the defeated party to make excuses, and always will be; but the ships were as nearly matched in offensive qualities as two vessels in different navies are ever likely to be, and the difference between them, which determined the issue of the conflict, was purely a question of the personal equation. It was always hard to find anything to counterbalance Jones for the other side of the equality sign. Burdon was not the man. The English captain was a brave but very stupid or very confident man. Jones was more than a match for him at best, and when the mistakes of Burdon are considered the comparison is painful. The English knew that the Ranger was on the coast; the Drake had picked up her anchor (it was, of course, recaptured), and an alert mind would have connected the recovered anchor with the attempt of the night of the 20th. The suspicious actions of the stranger--and there must have been some indication in her maneuvers and appearance at least to inspire caution--the failure of the boat crew either to return or to make any signal, should have made the English captain pause and consider the situation. But with the usual "uncircumspect gallantry" of his kind he charged down, bull-like, on his enemy, was promptly raked, hammered to pieces, killed, and his ship surrendered. He proved his courage in battle--which no one would question, bravery being usual and to be expected--and he died in the attempt to atone for his rashness; but professionally he was a failure, and his demise was fortunate for his reputation and future career. His death probably prevented some very inconvenient questions being asked him. Jones treated his prisoners with a kindness and consideration the more remarkable from the fact that the contrary was the custom with the British toward American captives. During the night and the whole of the next day, the weather being moderate, the two ships were hove to while the Drake was refitted as well as their resources permitted. Late the next afternoon a large brigantine, actuated by an unfortunate curiosity, ran down so near the two ships that she was brought to by a shot from the Drake and taken possession of. Having repaired damages and put the Drake in as good trim as possible, Jones first determined to return to Brest by the South Channel, the way he had come, but the variable wind shifted and came strongly, and he decided to run northward before it and pass around the west coast of Ireland. In spite of his previous insubordination Simpson was placed in command of the Drake. Before they left these waters, however, something still remained to be done. On the evening of the 25th the two ships sailed once more for Belfast Lough. There Jones hove the Ranger to, and, having given the poor Irish fishermen, whom he had captured on the 21st and held, one of the Drake's boats, and having charitably bestowed upon them all the guineas which he had left in his private purse (not many, I suppose) to remunerate them for the loss they had sustained, he sent them ashore. They took with them one of the Drake's sails, which would attest the truth of their story of what had happened. The grateful Irishmen were delighted and touched by such unusual treatment, and they signalized their gratitude to their generous and kindhearted captor by giving Jones three cheers from the boat as they passed the Ranger's quarter. The Americans then bore away to the northwestward. The voyage around the coast of Ireland was uneventful. Lieutenant Dobbs, of the Drake, died on the cruise, and he and Captain Burdon were buried at sea with all possible honors, Jones himself reading the usual Church service. The cruise was continued without incident until the morning of the 5th of May, when the Ranger being off Ushant, and having the Drake in tow, Jones cut the towline and bore away in chase of a sail which had been sighted. Simpson, instead of continuing toward Brest, as he had been directed, hauled off to the south, so that when Jones had overtaken the chase and found her a neutral, the Drake was almost entirely out of sight to the southward. The Ranger chased her and made various signals, to which no attention was paid. Simpson changed his course aimlessly several times. During the whole of the day the same eccentric maneuvers on the part of the Drake continued. To Jones' great annoyance, the inexplicable actions of the prize prevented him from chasing several large vessels which he saw standing into the Channel, among which he would probably have made many valuable captures. He was forced to abandon any attempt to take them and follow the Drake, which he only overhauled late in the evening. By Jones' orders Lieutenant Elijah Hall immediately replaced Simpson in command of the Drake, and the latter was placed under arrest. On the 8th of May both vessels arrived safely at Brest, from which point Jones promptly dispatched the following remarkable letter to the Countess of Selkirk: "Ranger, Brest, _May 8, 1778_. "_The Right Hon. the Countess of Selkirk_. "Madam: It can not be too much lamented that, in the profession of arms, the officer of fine feelings and real sensibility should be under the necessity of winking at any action of persons under his command which his heart can not approve; but the reflection is doubly severe when he finds himself obliged, in appearance, to countenance such actions by his authority. This hard case was mine, when, on the 23d of April last, I landed on St. Mary's Isle. Knowing Lord Selkirk's interest with his king, and esteeming as I do his private character, I wished to make him the happy instrument of alleviating the horrors of hopeless captivity, when the brave are overpowered and made prisoners of war. It was perhaps fortunate for you, madam, that he was from home, for it was my intention to have taken him on board the Ranger and detained him until, through, his means, a general and fair exchange of prisoners, as well in Europe as in America, had been effected. "When I was informed, by some men whom I met at landing that his lordship was absent, I walked back to my boat, determined to leave the island. By the way, however, some officers who were with me could not forbear expressing their discontent, observing that in America no delicacy was shown by the English, who took away all sorts of movable property, setting fire not only to towns and to the houses of the rich, without distinction, but not even sparing the wretched hamlets and milch cows of the poor and helpless, at the approach of an inclement winter. That party had been with me the same morning at Whitehaven; some complaisance, therefore, was their due. I had but a moment to think how I might gratify them, and at the same time do your ladyship the least injury. I charged the officers to permit none of the seamen to enter the house, or to hurt anything about it; to treat you, madam, with the utmost respect; to accept of the plate which was offered, and to come away without making a search or demanding anything else. I am induced to believe that I was punctually obeyed, since I am informed that the plate which they brought away is far short of the quantity expressed in the inventory which accompanied it. I have gratified my men, and when the plate is sold I shall become the purchaser, and will gratify my own feelings by restoring it to you by such conveyance as you shall please to direct. "Had the earl been on board the Ranger the following evening he would have seen the awful pomp and dreadful carnage of a sea engagement, both affording ample subject for the pencil, as well as melancholy reflection for the contemplative mind. Humanity starts back from such scenes of horror, and can not sufficiently execrate the vile promoters of this detestable war. "'For they, 'twas they unsheathed the ruthless blade, And Heaven shall ask the havoc it has made.' "The British ship of war Drake, mounting twenty guns, with more than her full complement of officers and men, was our opponent. The ships met, and the advantage was disputed with great fortitude on each side for an hour and four minutes, when the gallant commander of the Drake fell, and victory declared in favor of the Ranger. The amiable lieutenant lay mortally wounded, besides near forty of the inferior officers and crew killed and wounded--a melancholy demonstration of the uncertainty of human prospects and of the sad reverses of fortune which an hour can produce. I buried them in a spacious grave, with the honors due to the memory of the brave. "Though I have drawn my sword in the present generous struggle for the rights of men, yet I am not in arms as an American, nor am I in pursuit of riches. My fortune is liberal enough, having no wife and family, and having lived long enough to know that riches can not secure happiness. I profess myself a citizen of the world, totally unfettered by the little mean distinctions of climates or of country, which diminish the benevolence of the heart and set bounds to philanthropy. Before this war was begun, I had, at an early time in life, withdrawn from sea service in favor of 'calm contemplation and poetic ease.' I have sacrificed not only my favorite scheme of life, but the softer affections of the heart, and my prospects of domestic happiness, and I am ready to sacrifice my life also with cheerfulness, if that forfeiture could restore peace among mankind. "As the feelings of your gentle bosom can not but be congenial with mine, let me entreat you, madam, to use your persuasive art with your husband, to endeavour to stop this cruel and destructive war, in which Britain can never succeed. Heaven can never countenance the barbarous and unmanly practice of the Britons in America, which savages would blush at, and which, if not discontinued, will soon be retaliated on Britain by a justly enraged people. Should you fail in this, and I am persuaded you will attempt it (and who can resist the power of such an advocate?), your endeavour to effect a general exchange of prisoners will be an act of humanity, which will afford you golden feelings on your deathbed. "I hope this cruel contest will soon be closed; but, should it continue, I wage no war with the fair. I acknowledge their force, and bend before it with submission. Let not, therefore, the amiable Countess of Selkirk regard me as an enemy; I am ambitious of her esteem and friendship, and would do anything, consistent with my duty, to merit it. The honor of a line from your hand, in answer to this, will lay me under a singular obligation, and if I can render you any acceptable service in France or elsewhere I hope you see into my character so far as to command me, without the least grain of reserve. I wish to know the exact behaviour of my people, as I am determined to punish them if they have exceeded their liberty. "I have the honor to be, with much esteem and with profound respect, madam, etc., "John Paul Jones." The shrewd Franklin says of this extraordinary document: "It is a gallant letter, which must give her ladyship a high and just opinion of your generosity and nobleness of mind." But I seem to read a gentle laugh in the tactful words of the old philosopher. I like this epistle less than any of Jones' letters I have read, but it certainly does not merit the severe censures which have been passed upon it. No one would write such a letter to-day, certainly, but things were different then, and we need not too closely criticise the form and style of the document in view of its honest purpose and good intent. As might have been expected, the Countess of Selkirk made no reply to this singular communication. To anticipate the course of events, and obviate the necessity of further discussion of this incident, it may be stated that more than a year after its capture Jones obtained possession of the plate through the prize court by strenuous effort, and by paying for it at an exorbitant valuation. The state of warfare then existing between France and England prevented the delivery of the silver for several years, though Jones made earnest efforts to get it into the hands of the Selkirks whenever apparent opportunity presented. It was not, however, until 1784, after peace had been declared, that the plate was restored to its original owners. It is stated that it was received by them in exactly the same condition as when it had been taken, even to the tea leaves which were still in the teapot! The receipt of the silver is thus acknowledged in a letter from Lord Selkirk: "London, _August 4, 1789_. "_Monsieur le Chevalier Paul Jones, à Paris_. "Sir: I received the letter you wrote to me at the time you sent off my plate, in order for restoring it. Had I known where to direct a letter to you at the time it arrived in Scotland I would then have wrote to you; but, not knowing it, nor finding that any of my acquaintance at Edinburgh knew it, I was obliged to delay writing till I came here, when, by means of a gentleman connected with America, I was told M. le Grand was your banker at Paris, and would take proper care of a letter for you; therefore, I inclose this to him. "Notwithstanding all the precautions you took for the easy and uninterrupted conveyance of the plate, yet it met with considerable delays: first at Calais, next at Dover, then at London; however, it at last arrived at Dumfries, and I dare say quite safe, though as yet I have not seen it, being then at Edinburgh. "I intended to have put an article in the newspapers about your having returned it; but before I was informed of its being arrived, some of your friends, I suppose, had put it in the Dumfries newspaper, whence it was immediately copied into the Edinburgh papers, and thence into the London ones. Since that time I have mentioned it to many people of fashion; and, on all occasions, sir, both now and formerly, I have done you the justice to tell that you made an offer of returning the plate very soon after your return to Brest; and, although you yourself was not at my house, but remained at the shore with your boat, that yet you had your officers and men in such extraordinary good discipline that your having given them the strictest orders to behave well, to do no injury of any kind, to make no search, but only to bring off what plate was given them; that in reality they did exactly as ordered, and that not one man offered to stir from his post on the outside of the house, nor entered the doors, nor said an uncivil word; that the two officers stayed not a quarter of an hour in the parlour and butler's pantry, while the butler got the plate together, behaved politely, and asked for nothing but the plate, and instantly marched their men off in regular order; and that both officers and men behaved in all respects so well that it would have done credit to the best disciplined troops whatever. "Some of the English newspapers at that time having put in confused accounts of your expedition to Whitehaven and Scotland, I ordered a proper one of what had happened in Scotland to be put in the London newspapers, by a gentleman who was then at my house, by which the good conduct and civil behaviour of your officers and men was done justice to, and attributed to your order, and the good discipline you maintained over your people. "I am, sir, your most humble servant, "Selkirk." It is a handsome acknowledgment, but I note with great pleasure the sailor writes better than the peer! CHAPTER VIII. STANDING AND WAITING. The Ranger and her prizes arrived at Brest at a propitious time, both for the fortunes of Jones and for those of his adopted country as well. The secret treaty of alliance between the confederated colonies and France had been signed on February 6th. The plenipotentiaries from the United States had been publicly received at Versailles on March 23d. On the same day the French ambassador left England, and the English ambassador, Lord Stormont, left France. The fleet of D'Estaing put to sea from Toulon a fortnight later. In two weeks the English fleet followed to American waters. The attempt was made on the part of the French to execute the brilliant strategic plan which Jones had devised, although, of course, the delay had rendered the effort fruitless. The successful cruise of the Ranger, the rich captures she had made, the daring enterprises she had undertaken, the boldness and audacity of her commander in venturing with a little vessel of such trifling force into the very midst of the three kingdoms, and the brilliancy of his capture of a war vessel of nominally superior, and at least really equal, force, in a fair and open yardarm to yardarm fight, a thing to which the French navy was not accustomed, awakened the greatest admiration, and Paul Jones found himself in that most congenial of positions to him--and to almost any other man--of being the observed of all. On this expedition, his first real opportunity, he had demonstrated that he possessed an ability to plan, and a courage to carry out his conceptions, which put him in the front rank of the sea officers of his day. With one single vessel, laboring under every disadvantage conceivable, he had done what no European power or combination of powers had been able to accomplish in centuries, with all their resources at command. He had terrorized the whole English seaboard, and filled the United Kingdom with uneasiness and unrest. The gallant men who had gone before him and accomplished so much with the Reprisal, the Revenge, and the others, had a worthy successor and superior in this little Scots-American, who, as a citizen of the world, in love with humanity, drew his sword for the cause of freedom. The French admired him, the English hated him. The American prisoners immediately felt the effect of his captures by the general amelioration of their unhappy condition, and Franklin at last realized that he had a man at hand upon whom he could depend to further his bold designs. When the news reached America, it was received with great joy, and the Naval Committee and the Congress generally knew they had made no mistake in sending Jones to Europe. The young navy looked to him with hope. His exploits were detailed and amplified in the cafés and on the boulevards of Paris, and were related with approbation even within the sacred confines of the court. He was the hero of the hour. But there is a homely maxim exemplified by frequent experience that "Fine words butter no parsnips." It was true in this instance undoubtedly, and Jones learned that there was no necessary connection between glory and bread and butter. He was unable to procure actually necessary supplies for his crew. All the vessels of the Continental navy went to sea undermanned, ill-provided, and inadequately provisioned, and the ship's purser, as a rule, had no money. The seamen had not received their wages--no money at all, in fact, except that which Jones himself had advanced out of his own pocket. With the sanction of the Marine Committee he had made himself responsible for the regular payment of the wages of the men. His pocket was now empty, the last guineas having been given to the Irish fishermen aforementioned. His own resources were always drawn upon freely for the good of the service and his men; now they were entirely exhausted. His provisions had been consumed, he did not know where to get any more. In addition to his own people he had several prizes and over two hundred prisoners who had to be cared for, and who were a healthy and hungry lot. When he arrived in France he had been authorized to draw upon the commissioners to the extent of twelve thousand livres, with the caution not to avail himself of the permission unless it were imperatively necessary. With great prudence, and by the exercise of rigid economy, he had avoided any inroad on the depleted and overtaxed fund of the commissioners. Something, however, had to be done in this instance, and without securing another authority, for which, indeed, time was wanting, so pressing were his needs, he made drafts upon the commissioners in the sum of twenty-four thousand livres, about five thousand dollars. Meanwhile he subsisted his crew and prisoners through the generosity of the French naval authorities at Brest, which he secured by the pledge of his own private personal credit. The draft was dishonored. Certainly the commissioners were embarrassed almost beyond endurance by the demands upon them from every side, but this was a matter to which they should have given attention if it were humanly possible, for they were the only resource that Jones had. His condition was simply desperate. He knew not what to do nor where to turn. The following extract of a letter to the commissioners on the 27th of May exhibits his painful position: "Could I suppose that my letters of the 9th and 16th current (the first advising you of my arrival and giving reference to the events of my expedition; the last advising you of my draft in favour of Monsieur Bersolle, for twenty-four thousand livres, and assigning reasons for the demand) had not made due appearance, I would hereafter, as I do now, inclose copies. Three posts have already arrived here from Paris since Comte d'Orvilliers showed me the answer which he received from the minister, to the letter which inclosed mine to you. Yet you remain silent. M. Bersolle has this moment informed me of the fate of my bills; the more extraordinary as I have not yet made use of your letter of credit of the 10th of January last, whereby I then seemed entitled to call for half the amount of my last draft, and I did not expect to be thought extravagant when, on the 16th current, I doubled that demand. Could this indignity be kept secret I should disregard it; and, though it is already public in Brest and in the fleet, as it affects only my private credit I will not complain. I can not, however, be silent when I find the public credit involved in the same disgrace. I conceive this might have been prevented. To make me completely wretched, Monsieur Bersolle has now told me that he now stops his hand, not only of the necessary articles to refit the ship, but also of the _daily provisions_. I know not where to find to-morrow's dinner for the great number of mouths that depend on me for food. Are then the Continental ships of war to depend on the sale of their prizes for a daily dinner for their men? 'Publish it not in Gath.' "My officers, as well as men, want clothes, and the prizes are precluded from being sold before farther orders arrive from the minister. I will ask you, gentlemen, if I have deserved all this. Whoever calls himself an American ought to be protected here. I am unwilling to think that you have intentionally involved me in this dilemma, at a time when I ought to expect some enjoyment. "Therefore I have, as formerly, the honour to be, with due esteem and respect, gentlemen, yours, etc." How he managed under such circumstances he relates in a journal which he prepared in later years for submission to the King of France. "Yet during that time, by his [Jones'] personal credit with Comte D'Orvilliers, the Duc de Chartres, and the Intendant of Brest, he fed his people and prisoners, cured his wounded, and refitted both the Ranger and the Drake for sea." He could, of course, have relieved himself of some of his burden by turning over his prisoners to France, but, as that country was still nominally neutral, the people he had captured would have been set free at the demand of England. As long as he held possession of them it was possible that the circumstance would force an exchange for Americans--a thing the commissioners had been bent upon since their arrival in Europe. The English Government had long since sanctioned and carried out the exchange of soldiers, but for arbitrary and inadequate reasons seamen stood upon a different footing apparently. When Franklin previously wrote Lord Stormont, the British ambassador, offering to exchange one hundred men captured by the Reprisal for an equal number of American seamen held in English prisons, no answer was made to his letter; a second letter brought forth the following curt reply: "The king's ambassador receives no applications from rebels, unless they come to implore his Majesty's mercy." To this insulting and inexplicable message the following apt and dignified reply was made: "In answer to a letter which concerns some of the material interests of humanity, and of the two nations, Great Britain and the United States of America, now at war, we received the inclosed indecent paper, as coming from your lordship, which we return for your lordship's more mature consideration." Of course, the ostensible reason for refusing this exchange was that the captured seamen were traitors, and as such had no belligerent rights, yet how they differed from soldiers it is impossible to see. Indeed, the English authorities went so far as to call them pirates, and they could not have treated them worse--short of hanging them--if they had actually merited the opprobrious title. The real reason, however, lay in the hope that the Americans, having no place in France in which to confine their prisoners, would be compelled to set them free. This hope was frequently justified, and it was not until March, 1779, that the persistent determination of Franklin brought about a complete general recognition of the principle of exchange for which he had so valiantly contended, although he had been partially successful on particular occasions before that time. Jones knew the situation perfectly, and so with his usual grim determination he held on to his precious prisoners. The prize agents were dilatory and incompetent. The seamen, lacking food, clothes, salary, and prize money, were naturally mutinous and discontented. But Jones repressed the crews, hurried up the sales, and managed at last to weather all his troubles. The malcontent Simpson was a constant incentive to discord and mutiny, and he was finally removed to a French guardship, called the Admiral, where he was well treated and allowed the freedom of the deck. While there, he behaved in such a contumacious manner that D'Orvilliers, the French commander, sent him to the prison of the port. All his expenses during this interval were paid by Jones himself; indeed, when he did not pay personally, nobody did. There was nothing sordid or avaricious in Jones' character. He was greedy for glory and fame and reputation, but he cared nothing whatever for money. To dismiss a tiresome subject, Jones, with extraordinary complaisance, finally accepted Simpson's apologies and released him on his parole not to serve in the navy until he had been regularly tried by a court-martial. He even went further than this. He offered to relinquish the command of the Ranger to him in order that he might take her back to the United States and there take his trial. While these efforts were pending, the commissioners, misunderstanding their tentative character, restored Simpson to the command of the Ranger, unconditionally, much to Jones' disgust. He was quite willing to relinquish the command of his little ship, because the King of France had requested the commissioners to allow France to avail herself of the services of Jones in a naval expedition which was projected. But that such contumacy and lack of subordination as had been exhibited by Simpson should go unpunished, and that he should receive the absolute command of the ship as a reward for his action, and should be allowed to return home without even an investigation, was not only harmful to the service, but an apparent reflection upon himself--though, of course, nothing was further from the commissioners' thoughts, as they specifically declared. In the end Jones acquiesced in the situation, and the matter was dropped. Simpson was never employed in the service after he returned home. The famous action between the Arethusa and the Belle Poule, on June 17th, having made it clear to every observer that war between France and England was inevitable, though the formal declaration was not issued until the following September, the first enterprise which it was desired Jones should undertake under the auspices of France was proposed to him by Franklin as follows: "The Jersey privateers," he says, "do us a great deal of mischief by intercepting our supplies. It has been mentioned to me that your small vessel, commanded by so brave an officer, might render great service by following them where greater ships dare not venture their bottoms; or, being accompanied and supported by some frigates from Brest, at a proper distance, might draw them out and then take them. I wish you to consider of this, as it comes from _high authority_." It was not a particularly brilliant prospect; all the hard work and dangerous labor was to be performed by Jones, and the glory was to be reaped by the French frigates; but, with a noble disinterestedness in his desire to serve his country, he at once expressed his perfect willingness to co-operate. Before anything came of it, however, Franklin offered him the command of the Indien, in the following letter: (Private.) "Dear Sir: I have the pleasure of informing you that it is proposed to give you the command of the great ship we have built at Amsterdam. By what you wrote to us formerly, I have ventured to say in your behalf, that this proposition would be agreeable to you. You will immediately let me know your resolution; which, that you may be more clear in taking, I must inform you of some circumstances. She is at present the property of the king; but, as there is no war yet declared, you will have the commission and flag of the States, and act under their orders and laws. The Prince de Nassau will make the cruise with you. She is to be brought here under cover as a French merchantman, to be equipped and manned in France. We hope to exchange your prisoners for as many American sailors; but, if that fails, you have your present crew to be made up here with other nations and French. The other commissioners are not acquainted with this proposition as yet, and you see by the nature of it that it is necessary to be kept a secret till we have got the vessel here, for fear of difficulties in Holland, and interception; you will therefore direct your answer to me alone. It being desired that the affair rest between you and me, perhaps it may be best for you to take a trip up here to concert matters, if in general you approve the idea. "I was much pleased with reading your journal, which we received yesterday." This is the first mention of the Prince of Nassau-Siegen, who will appear prominently hereafter, and be described in his proper place. Jones was naturally delighted with the flattering prospects, and at once wrote to the prince, acquainting him of the pleasure he anticipated in having him associated with him. A few days later Franklin wrote Jones again as follows: "Passy, _June 10, 1778_. "Dear Sir: I received yours of 1st instant, with the papers inclosed, which I have shown to the other commissioners, but have not yet had their opinion of them; only I know that they had before (in consideration of the disposition and uneasiness of your people) expressed an inclination to order your ship directly back to America. You will judge from what follows whether it will not be advisable for you to propose their sending her back with her people, and under some other command. In consequence of the high opinion the Minister of the Marine has of your conduct and bravery, it is now settled (observe, that it is to be a secret between us, I being expressly enjoined not to communicate it to any other person), that you are to have the frigate from Holland, which actually belongs to Government, and will be furnished with as many good French seamen as you shall require. But you are to act under Congress commission. As you may be likely to have a number of Americans, and your own are homesick, it is proposed to give you as many as you can engage out of two hundred prisoners, which the ministry of Britain have at length agreed to give us in exchange for those you have in your hands. They propose to make the exchange at Calais, where they are to bring the Americans. Nothing is wanting to this but a list of yours, containing their names and rank; immediately on the receipt of which an equal number are to be prepared, and sent in a ship to that port, where yours are to meet them. "If by this means you can get a good new crew, I think it would be best that you are quite free of the old, for a mixture might introduce the infection of that sickness you complain of. But this may be left to your own discretion. Perhaps we shall join you with the Providence, Captain Whipple, a new Continental ship of thirty guns, which, in coming out of the river of Providence, gave the two frigates that were posted to intercept her each of them so heavy a dose of her 18- and 12-pounders that they had not the courage or were not able to pursue her. It seems to be desired that you will step up to Versailles (where one will meet you), in order to such a settlement of matters and plans with those who have the direction as can not well be done by letter. I wish it may be convenient to you to do it immediately. "The project of giving you the command of this ship pleases me the more as it is a probable opening to the higher preferment you so justly merit." In obedience to this request Jones went privately to Versailles, where he spent some time in consultation with the commissioners and the French ministry discussing the exchange of prisoners, and proposed several plans of attack by which his services could be utilized. These plans well indicate the fertility of imagination, the resourceful genius, and the daring hardihood of the man. One of them was for making another descent upon Whitehaven, another was to attack the Bank of Ayr and destroy or ransom that town; another was to burn the shipping on the Clyde. Expeditions on the coast of Ireland were suggested. London might be distressed, he thought, by cutting off the supplies of coal from Newcastle; but the most feasible projects were the capture or destruction of the West Indian or Baltic fleets of merchantmen or the Hudson Bay ships. The Minister of Marine, M. de Sartine, lent an attentive ear to all of the plans which were proposed, and Jones returned to Brest with high hopes that he should be soon employed in an expedition to carry out one or the other of these plans with adequate means to do it well. It is quite likely that the minister was as earnest and honest in his intentions as the king in his desire to make use of Jones, but the formal declaration of war rendered it possible to prosecute the enterprises which had been suggested by Jones, if it were thought expedient to attempt them, under the French flag and with French officers. As France had only intended to use him under the cover of the American flag to harass England before war was declared, and as that could now be done openly under her own flag, they did not see the same necessity for his services as before. The matter of finding employment for him was further complicated by the fact that since a state of actual war existed the ministry was besieged with applications from numbers of French officers for command, and the ships which had been proposed for Jones were naturally appropriated to the French themselves. Even if a command could have been found for the American, there would have been a natural disinclination, so great as to be nearly prohibitive of success, on the part of the French officers to serving under a foreigner. Time brought him nothing but disappointment, and the high hopes he had cherished gradually waned. Always a persistent and voluminous letter writer, in his desperation he overwhelmed everybody with correspondence. Inaction was killing to him. Not to be employed was like death itself to a man of his intensely energetic temperament. His pride would not permit him to return to the United States and seek a command when he had specifically announced, in a letter to Congress by the returning Ranger, that the King of France asked that he might make use of his services, and therefore no command in America need be reserved for him; and yet he now found himself a hanger on the outskirts of a court and a ministry which had no further use for him. The delicate situation of the commissioners, who had been themselves scarcely more than on sufferance, did not permit them, in the interests of expediency and diplomacy, to insist as strongly as they would have liked to do, that the king and the ministry should keep their engagement with Jones, which was, of course, an engagement with them and with the United States. Diplomacy and persuasion were the only weapons at their command. They certainly made good use of them. Franklin, pending something else, procured the minister's order that Jones should be received on the great French fleet of D'Orvilliers, which was about to put to sea to engage the English fleet under Keppel. He was very desirous of availing himself of this invitation, which he himself sought, for it would give him an opportunity he could not otherwise hope to enjoy, of perfecting himself in naval tactics and the fine art of maneuvering and governing a great fleet. He never allowed anything to interfere--so far as he was able to prevent it--with his advancement in professional study. The permission, however, to D'Orvilliers' great regret, arrived too late, for the fleet sailed without him. The French admiral seems to have appreciated the American captain, and to have highly esteemed him. It is stated that the delay in transmitting the permission was intentional, and was due to the jealousy of the French naval service. Jones was exasperated by all these happenings almost to the breaking point. In one letter he says: "I think of going to L'Orient, being heartily sick of Brest." I should think he would be! As days passed without bringing him any nearer to the fruition of his hope, he became more modest in his demands and propositions. One significant phrase culled from one of his letters well indicates the bold, dashing character of the man: "I do not wish to have command of any ship that does not sail fast, _for I intend to go in harm's way_."[7] In the sentence which follows this statement, we get another touch of that entire consciousness of his own ability and high quality which, though warranted, it were better, perhaps, for his reputation if it were not so evident in his writing: "I know, I believe, that this is no other person's intention. Therefore, buy a frigate that sails fast and is sufficiently large to carry twenty-six or twenty-eight guns on one deck." His state of mind may well be understood from this citation: "I have, to show my gratitude to France, lost so much time, and with it such opportunities as I can not regain. I have almost killed myself with grief." Chafing, fretting, writing letters, the time dragged on. At last he addressed to the Minister of Marine, M. de Sartine, this emphatic protest and statement which he calls, and justly, an explicit letter. It is certainly sufficiently definite and clear, and shows that rank and position did not deter him from a free and somewhat sarcastic expression of his grievances and wrongs: "Brest, _September 13, 1778_. "Honoured Sir: When his excellency Doctor Franklin informed me that you had condescended to think me worthy of your notice, I took such pleasure in reflecting on the happy alliance between France and America that I was really flattered, and entertained the most grateful sense of the honour which you proposed for me, as well as the favour which the king proposed for America, by putting so fine a ship as the Indien under my command, and under its flag, with unlimited orders. "In obedience to your desire, I came to Versailles, and was taught to believe that my intended ship was in deep water, and ready for sea; but when the Prince [de Nassau] returned I received from him a different account; I was told that the Indien could not be got afloat within a shorter period than three months at the approaching equinox. "To employ this interval usefully, I first offered to go from Brest with Count D'Orvilliers as a volunteer, which you thought fit to reject. I had then the satisfaction to find that you approved in general of a variety of hints for private enterprises which I had drawn up for your consideration, and I was flattered with assurances from Messieurs de Chaumont and Baudouin that three of the finest frigates in France, with two tenders and a number of troops, would be immediately put under my command; and that I should have unlimited orders, and be at free liberty to pursue such of my own projects as I thought proper. But this plan fell to nothing in the moment when I was taught to think that nothing was wanting but the king's signature. "Another much inferior armament from L'Orient was proposed to be put under my command, which was by no means equal to the services that were expected from it; for speed and force, though both requisite, were both wanting. Happily for me, this also failed, and I was thereby saved from a dreadful prospect of ruin and dishonour. "I had so entire a reliance that you would desire nothing of me inconsistent with my honour and rank, that the moment you required me to come down here, in order to proceed round to St. Malo, though I had received no written orders, and neither knew your intention respecting my destination or command, I obeyed with such haste, that although my curiosity led me to look at the armament at L'Orient, yet I was but three days from Passy till I reached Brest. Here, too, I drew a blank; but when I saw the Lively it was no disappointment, as that ship, both in sailing and equipment, is far inferior to the Ranger. "My only disappointment here was my being precluded from embarking in pursuit of marine knowledge with Count D'Orvilliers, who did not sail till seven days after my return. He is my friend, and expressed his wishes for my company; I accompanied him out of the road when the fleet sailed, and he always lamented that neither himself nor any person in authority in Brest had received from you any order that mentioned my name. I am astonished therefore to be informed that you attribute my not being in the fleet to my stay at L'Orient. "I am not a mere adventurer of fortune. Stimulated by principles of reason and philanthropy, I laid aside my enjoyments in private life, and embarked under the flag of America when it was first displayed. In that line my desire of fame is infinite, and I must not now so far forget my own honour, and what I owe to my friends and America, as to remain inactive. "My rank knows no superior in the American marine. I have long since been appointed to command an expedition with five of its ships, and I can receive orders from no junior or inferior officer whatever. "I have been here in the most tormenting suspense for more than a month since my return; and, agreeable to your desire, as mentioned to me by Monsieur Chaumont, a lieutenant has been appointed, and is with me, who speaks the French as well as the English. Circular letters have been written, and sent the 8th of last month from the English admiralty, because they expected me to pay another visit with four ships. Therefore I trust that, if the Indien is not to be got out, you will not, at the approaching season, substitute a force that is not at least equal both in strength and sailing to any of the enemy's cruising ships. "I do not wish to interfere with the harmony of the French marine; but, if I am still thought worthy of your attention, I shall hope for a separate command, with liberal orders. If, on the contrary, you should now have no further occasion for my services, the only favour I can ask is that you will bestow on me the Alert, with a few seamen, and permit me to return, and carry with me your good opinion in that small vessel, before the winter, to America." His intense, burning desire for action, however, did not permit him to degrade, as he thought, his Government and station by accepting the command of a privateer which was tendered to him. In the command of a speedy, smart privateer there is no limit to the plundering he might have done and the treasure he might have gained, if that had been what he wished. Many naval officers before and since his time have done this and thought it not derogatory to their dignity. It is therefore to Jones' credit that he was very jealous in this and many other instances on the point of honor of serving in no ship, under no flag, and with no commission save that of the United States. We shall see this spirit again and again. The citizen of the world was beginning to feel that the world as his country was hardly adequate to his needs; in theory it was a very pretty proposition, but in practice it was necessary to form and maintain a more definite and particular relationship. As a final effort to better his condition and secure that opportunity for which he thirsted, he prepared the following letter to the king: "Brest, _October 19, 1778_. "Sire: After my return to Brest in the American ship of war the Ranger, from the Irish Channel, his excellency Doctor Franklin informed me by letter, dated June the 1st, that M. de Sartine, having a high opinion of my conduct and bravery, had determined, with your Majesty's consent and approbation, to give me the command of the ship of war the Indien, which was built at Amsterdam for America, but afterward, for political reasons, made the property of France. "I was to act with unlimited orders under the commission and flag of America; and the Prince de Nassau proposed to accompany me on the ocean. "I was deeply penetrated with the sense of the honour done me by this generous proposition, as well as of the favour your Majesty intended thereby to confer on America. And I accepted the offer with the greater pleasure as the Congress had sent me to Europe in the Ranger to command the Indien before the ownership of that vessel was changed. "The minister desired to see me at Versailles to settle future plans of operation, and I attended him for that purpose. I was told that the Indien was at the Texel completely armed and fitted for sea; but the Prince de Nassau was sent express to Holland, and returned with a very different account. The ship was at Amsterdam, and could not be got afloat or armed before the September equinox. The American plenipotentiaries proposed that I should return to America; and, as I have repeatedly been appointed to the chief command of an American squadron to execute secret enterprises, it was not doubted but that Congress would again show me a preference. M. de Sartine, however, thought proper to prevent my departure, by writing to the plenipotentiaries (without my knowledge), requesting that I might be permitted to remain in Europe, and that the Ranger might be sent back to America under another commander, he having special services which he wished me to execute. This request they readily granted, and I was flattered by the prospect of being enabled to testify, by my services, my gratitude to your Majesty, as the first prince who has so generously acknowledged our independence. "There was an interval of more than three months before the Indien could be gotten afloat. To employ that period usefully, when your Majesty's fleet was ordered to sail from Brest, I proposed to the minister to embark in it as a volunteer, in pursuit of marine knowledge. He objected to this, at the same time approved of a variety of hints for private enterprises, which I had drawn up for his consideration. Two gentlemen were appointed to settle with me the plans that were to be adopted, who gave me the assurance that three of the best frigates in France, with two tenders, and a number of troops, should be immediately put under my command, to pursue such of my own projects as I thought proper; but this fell to nothing, when I believed that your Majesty's signature only was wanting. "Another armament, composed of cutters and small vessels, at L'Orient, was proposed to be put under my command, to alarm the coasts of England and check the Jersey privateers; but happily for me this also failed, and I was saved from ruin and dishonour, as I now find that all the vessels sailed slow, and their united force is very insignificant. The minister then thought fit that I should return to Brest to command the Lively, and join some frigates on an expedition from St. Malo to the North Sea. I returned in haste for that purpose, and found that the Lively had been bestowed at Brest before the minister had mentioned that ship to me at Versailles. This was, however, another fortunate disappointment, as the Lively proves, both in sailing and equipment, much inferior to the Ranger; but, more especially, if it be true, as I have since understood, that the minister intended to give the chief command of an expedition to a lieutenant, which would have occasioned a very disagreeable misunderstanding; for, as an officer of the first rank in the American marine, who has ever been honoured with the favour and friendship of Congress, I can receive orders from no inferior officer whatever. My plan was the destruction of the English Baltic fleet, of great consequence to the enemy's marine, and then only protected by a single frigate. I would have held myself responsible for its success had I commanded the expedition. "M. de Sartine afterward sent orders to Count D'Orvilliers to receive me on board the fleet agreeably to my former proposal; but the order did not arrive until after the departure of the fleet the last time from Brest, nor was I made acquainted with the circumstance before the fleet returned here. "Thus have I been chained down to shameful inactivity for nearly five months. I have lost the best season of the year, and such opportunities of serving my country and acquiring honour as I can not again expect this war; and, to my infinite mortification, having no command, I am considered everywhere an officer cast off and in disgrace for secret reasons. "I have written respectful letters to the minister, none of which he has condescended to answer; I have written to the Prince de Nassau with as little effect; and I do not understand that any apology has been made to the great and venerable Dr. Franklin, whom the minister has made the instrument of bringing me into such unmerited trouble. "Having written to Congress to reserve no command for me in America, my sensibility is the more affected by this unworthy situation in the sight of your Majesty's fleet. I, however, make no remark on the treatment I have received. "Although I wish not to become my own panegyrist, I must beg your Majesty's permission to observe that I am not an adventurer in search of fortune, of which, thank God, I have a sufficiency. "When the American banner was first displayed I drew my sword in support of the violated dignity and rights of human nature; and both honour and duty prompt me steadfastly to continue the righteous pursuit, and to sacrifice to it not only my own private enjoyments, but even life, if necessary. I must acknowledge that the generous praise which I have received from Congress and others exceeds the merit of my past services, therefore I the more ardently wish for future opportunities of testifying my gratitude by my activity. "As your Majesty, by espousing the cause of America, hath become the protector of the rights of human nature, I am persuaded that you will not disregard my situation, nor suffer me to remain any longer in this unsupportable disgrace. "I am, with perfect gratitude and profound respect, Sire, your Majesty's very obliged, very obedient, and very humble servant, "J. Paul Jones." This letter, at once dignified, forceful, respectful, and modest, was inclosed to Dr. Franklin with the request that it should be delivered to the king. The deference paid to Franklin's opinion, the eager desire to please him, the respect in which he held him, is not the least pleasing feature of Jones' character, by the way. The letter in question was withheld by Franklin with Jones' knowledge and acquiescence, and the king, it is probable, never saw it. There was, in fact, no necessity for its delivery, for the appeals, prayers, and importunities had at last evoked a response. The minister, worn out by the persistence of Jones, determined, since none of the French naval vessels were available, to buy him a ship and assemble a squadron and send him forth. The inquiry naturally arises why the French Government should care to go to the trouble and expense of doing this. Before the war was declared their action was understandable, but afterward the then operating cause disappeared. Yet there was another reason aside from the fact that M. de Sartine was willing to keep his promise if he could, and that was this: It was not the custom to harry, plunder, and ravage the seacoasts in the wars between France and England. Military or naval forces were the sole objects of attack, and by a specific though unwritten law of custom, the efforts of the rival combatants were confined to ships of war, fortifications, and armies, and, of course, to merchant vessels belonging to the enemy. The peaceful seashore towns were generally let alone unless the inhabitants in exposed localities provoked retaliation by aggression--a thing they usually took good care not to do. To introduce the practice would be unfortunate and nothing would be gained, by France especially. The King of France, however, was more than willing to have the coasts of his neighbor ravaged, if no retaliation on his own unprotected shores were provoked thereby. No convention of any sort, expressed or understood, existed between Great Britain and the United States which would prevent such action on the part of the Americans. Great Britain was making a bloody ravaging warfare on the coasts of North America, and, never dreaming of reprisal, paid no attention whatever to this law of war, save when it suited her to do so, on our seaboard. Franklin and the commissioners wisely realized that the only way to stop this merciless and brutal burning and plundering was to let the enemy experience the thing himself. They were therefore in entire accord with the desire of the French king. To produce the result he would furnish the squadron, they the flag. It was a charming arrangement from the king's point of view. Consequently the reason for the encouragement given Jones is apparent, and the determination of the minister is therefore explained and understood. Jones received word early in November through the commissioners, with a solemn assurance from De Sartine, that a suitable ship would be purchased for him at the expense of France and a squadron assembled under his supreme command. Let those who would reproach Jones for his part in this plan remember that (as in his previous cruise) he only carried out the orders of Franklin. There was no sentimental nonsense about the old Quaker. He knew what was the best remedy for the deplorable conditions in America, and he grimly prepared to apply it. He had no illusions in the premises at all; it was a pure matter of business, and with sound policy he so treated it. Jones' appeals, be it understood, were only for a ship or ships and an opportunity to get into action with the enemy. His orders were outside of his control. All he had to do as a naval officer was to carry them out to the best of his ability when he received them. Therefore a censure of Jones is a censure of Franklin. It was first designed to employ Jones and his proposed squadron for a descent upon Liverpool, for which purpose five hundred men from Fitzmaurice's Irish regiment were to be taken on the ships. Pending the assembling of the squadron, and while Jones was busily engaged in seeking for a proper vessel for himself in various French ports, Lafayette arrived from America, and sought the command of the land forces of the proposed expedition. His desire was a notable tribute to the sailor, by the way. The change was most agreeable to Jones, to whom, of course, the reputation and abilities of Lafayette were well known, and who would naturally prefer association with such a distinguished man in the undertaking, but, as usual, there were delays on the part of the minister. Jones traveled about from port to port, looking at different ships which it was proposed to purchase for him. The minister offered him the Duc de Broglie, a large new ship lying at Nantes, capable of mounting sixty-four guns. He inspected her, and would have taken her gladly, but he felt utterly unable properly to man such a large ship, and he was reluctantly compelled to dismiss her from consideration. There was also at Nantes a smaller ship, the Ariel, of twenty guns, which had been captured from the English, which he was willing to accept if nothing better turned up. Another vessel that he looked at was a great old-fashioned merchant ship, lying dismantled at L'Orient, which had been some fourteen years in the India trade, and was very much out of repair. She was called the Duc de Duras. Jones thought she might do in default of anything else, and he so informed the minister. However, in spite of the promises that had been made and reiterated to him, and the determination which had been arrived at, nothing was done. His visits of inspection were fruitless, his propositions were disregarded as before. Furthermore, the plan to send Lafayette with him fell through because France was at that time projecting a grand descent in force upon England, and Lafayette was designated to command a regiment in the proposed undertaking. Like other similar projects, the plan was never put in operation. Though France did enter the Channel with sixty-six French and Spanish ships of the line, she did not accomplish as much with this great armada as Paul Jones did with the little squadron he finally was enabled to assemble. Meanwhile he was at his wits' end. The year had nearly passed and nothing had been done. He had been put off with promises until he was desperate. Chance, it is stated, threw in his way one day, as he sat idle at Nantes, gloomily ruminating on the prospect, or lack of it, and almost making up his mind to go back to the United States in the first vessel that offered and seek such opportunity for service as might arise there, a copy of Franklin's famous book of maxims, called Poor Richard's Almanac. As the harassed little captain sat listlessly turning its pages, his eyes fell upon this significant aphorism: "If a man wishes to have any business faithfully and expeditiously performed, let him go on it himself; otherwise he may send." The truth of the saying inspired him to one final effort before he abandoned European waters. He went to Versailles in November, 1778, for one last visit, and there settled the matter. His determination and persistence at last, as it had many times before, brought him success. De Sartine directed the purchase of the Duras, which Jones, from his love for Franklin and the circumstance just related, with the consent of the minister, renamed the Bon Homme Richard, that being the French equivalent for Poor Richard, or Good Man Richard, which was the caption of the almanac. De Sartine appointed as the agent and commissary of the king for the purchase and refitting of the Duras and the other vessels of the squadron, and for the disposal of any prizes which might be taken, in short, as his representative with entire liberty of action, Monsieur le Ray de Chaumont. This gentleman, belonging, of course, to the nobility of the country, was a man of considerable influence at the court, where he had held the responsible dual position of Grand Master of the Forests and Waters of the King. Since the arrival of the American commissioners he had shown his devotion to the cause of liberty and to them personally by many and conspicuous acts of kindness. It was his private residence at Passy that Franklin made his headquarters during his long tenure of office. De Chaumont had offered him the use of this house, and with generous and splendid hospitality had refused to accept of any remuneration by way of rental. Realizing the pressing necessity of the struggling colonists for every dollar they could scrape together, he positively declined to impair their limited resources by any charge whatsoever. Franklin endeavored to change his decision, and when John Adams replaced Deane he made the same effort, but the generous Frenchman refused to recede from his determination. He also placed his private purse at the disposal of Franklin, and in every way showed himself a worthy and disinterested friend of America. He was one of those romantic Frenchmen who espoused the cause of the rights of man under the influence of the new philosophy of Rousseau and Voltaire; somewhat, it would seem, from motives similar to those proclaimed by Jones himself. He had nothing to gain by his action and much to lose should the effort of the colonists result in failure. He was a man of affairs and possessed an ample fortune. To anticipate events, it may be stated that he spent it all in the cause to which he had devoted himself, and eventually became bankrupt. He was not a military man; still less was he aware of the exigencies and demands of the naval service. For the present, however, he did his work efficiently and well. The Duras was purchased immediately, as were two other merchant vessels, the Pallas and the Vengeance, all at the cost of the royal treasury. To these were added the Cerf, a king's cutter, a well-appointed and efficient vessel, and the United States ship Alliance, a new and very handsome frigate built at Salisbury, Massachusetts, in 1778, which had arrived in Europe with Lafayette as a passenger. Jones had specifically asked that the American frigate should be assigned to his squadron--a most unfortunate request, as it afterward turned out. The Duras was an East Indiaman of obsolete type; a large, old-fashioned ship with a very high poop and topgallant forecastle. She had made, during many years of service, a number of round voyages to the East Indies. While stoutly built for a merchant ship, as compared to a man-of-war of her size she was of light and unsubstantial frame. In the absence of particular information I suppose her to have been of something under eight hundred tons burden. Neglect had allowed her to fall into such a bad condition that her efficiency as a proposed war vessel was further impaired by her inability to stand the necessary repairs. Jones, however, surveyed her and determined to make her do. Indeed, there was no choice; it was that or nothing. He hoped to effect something with her which would warrant him in demanding a better ship; so, with a sigh of regret for the Indien, he set to work upon her, doing his best to make her efficient. By his orders she was pierced for twenty-eight guns on her main deck and six on the poop and forecastle. In order to further increase her force, Jones, after much deliberation, resorted to the hazardous experiment of cutting six ports in the gun room, on the deck below the gun deck, close to the water line; so close, in fact, that, with anything like a sea on, to open the ports would be to invite destruction by foundering.[8] Only under exceptionally favorable circumstances, therefore, could these guns be used. At best the gun-room battery could only be fought in the calmest weather and smoothest water. In this dangerous place he mounted six old and condemned 18-pounders, which were all that he could obtain from the French arsenals. On the main deck fourteen 12-pounders and fourteen 9-pounders were mounted.[9] Two 9-pounders were placed aft on the quarter-deck, two in each gangway, and two on the forecastle. All the guns were old and worn out; many of them had been condemned by the French Government as unfit for use. The six guns on the lower deck were mounted three on a side, but a sufficient number of ports had been cut to admit of shifting the guns and working the whole battery on either side. New guns had been ordered cast for the Richard at the French gun foundries; but the usual delays compelled Jones to take what he could, and finally sail with these old makeshifts. The guns intended for the Bon Homme Richard arrived after she had gone. The Alliance was a frigate-built ship of thirty-two guns, 9- and 6-pounders, manned by two hundred and fifty men, and commanded by Pierre Landais. Landais was an ex-officer of the French navy, who had been dismissed for insubordination and incapacity. Ignorant of these facts, knowing only that he had been a navy officer, and wishing to please their royal ally, and perhaps pay a delicate compliment also to Lafayette, who was a passenger upon the ship on her first cruise, the marine commissioners had appointed him to the command of this fine and handsome little frigate. The Alliance was one of the fastest ships of her day; indeed, she may be regarded as the precursor of that long line of splendid frigates and sloops of war which have been the pride of American shipbuilders and the admiration of foreign navies. Properly re-armed and refitted, under the command of stout old John Barry she did splendid service on several occasions later in the war. Her swiftness and mobility, it was believed, would add greatly to the usefulness of Jones' squadron. The Pallas was a fairly efficient merchant ship, frigate built, carrying thirty 6-pounders, commanded by Captain de Cottineau de Kloguene. The Vengeance was a twelve-gun brig of little force, and the Cerf a sixteen-gun cutter, under the command of Captains Ricot and de Varage respectively. After many difficulties and disheartening delays, chiefly overcome by Jones' invincible determination and persistence, the squadron was at last made ready for use. The first duty assigned to the daring commodore was a cruise for the driving of the enemy's ships out of the Bay of Biscay, and convoying merchant ships bound from port to port along the coast. It was not a particularly congenial duty, but he entered upon it zealously and without complaint. The squadron sailed on the 19th of June, 1779. During the night of the 20th the Alliance ran foul of the Richard, and as a result of the collision the mizzenmast of the Alliance was carried away, while the Richard lost her head, cutwater, jib boom, etc. The blame for the accident mainly rested on Landais, who, it was afterward developed, had behaved disgracefully on this occasion, showing such a lack of presence of mind and seamanly aptitude, coupled with such timidity and shrinking from duty, that, when the accident occurred, he not only gave no orders, but basely ran below to load his pistols, leaving the ship to be extricated from her critical situation by the junior officers. Perhaps he was afraid that the infuriated Jones would attack him for the mishandling of his ship. Jones, who had been below when the accident occurred, immediately assumed charge of the Richard, and by prompt action averted a more serious disaster. To do Landais justice, however, the officer of the watch on the Richard also must have been culpable, for he was subsequently court-martialed and broken for his lack of conduct on this occasion. Refusing to return to port, and patching up the two ships as well as possible from their present resources, Jones performed the duties assigned to him, driving the enemy's ships out of those waters and safely delivering his convoy. On the return voyage, Captain de Varage, of the Cerf, had a spirited encounter with a heavily armed privateer of greater force than his own, which lasted for an hour and ten minutes and resulted in the privateer striking her flag. Before he could take possession, however, other ships of the enemy appeared, and he was forced to abandon his prize. The Richard chased several sail, two of which were thought to be frigates, and the officers and men manifested every disposition to get into action; but the ships sighted were all able to run away from the cumbrous and slow-sailing American ship. On the last day of June the squadron put into L'Orient again to repair damages. During the cruise it is interesting to note that Jones dispatched thirty pounds, in the shape of a draft, through a friend in Dublin, to Scotland for the use of his family. He frequently made them remittances from his scanty supplies of money, and, in fact, he never forgot them, however busy with great undertakings he may have been. Instructions were received at L'Orient from Franklin intended to govern the future movements of the squadron. They had, of course, been prepared after consultation with De Sartine. Jones was directed to cruise off the west coast of Ireland to intercept the West Indian ships and then to proceed to the northward, passing the Orkneys, and range down the coast of Scotland and endeavor to capture the Baltic fleet--which, by the way, had been one of his original projects. After carrying out these orders he was instructed to proceed to the Texel about August 15th, where he would find further directions awaiting him. Prizes were to be sent to Dunkirk or Ostend in France, or Bergen in Norway, consigned to such agents as De Chaumont should designate. Jones was very much disappointed, naturally, with the Richard, and in acknowledging the receipt of these instructions he made a last effort to get the Indien. It was intimated that such might be the result of his cruise when he arrived at the Texel, if it were successful, but that no change could be made in his orders at present. Franklin refused to attempt to have them modified by consulting with the ministry, and, in a way gentle but sufficiently decided, he directed Jones to finish repairing the ships with all speed and proceed to carry out the orders he had received. The commodore, swallowing his disappointment and dissatisfaction with a rather ill grace, it must be confessed, hastened to get his ships in shape for the proposed expedition. During the cruise in the Bay of Biscay a mutinous spirit had broken out among the English seamen, with whom in part Jones had been forced to man his ship in default of other men, which had become sufficiently developed to result in an organized conspiracy to take the Richard. The plot was discovered and the ringleaders were put in irons. When the Richard arrived at L'Orient, these men, two quartermasters, were court-martialed; but, instead of being sentenced to death, as they deserved, they were severely flogged with the cat-o'-nine-tails. Jones, who, if he erred, leaned to the side of mercy, seems to have been greatly relieved at this termination of the affair. At this time the lieutenant of the Richard, who had been in charge of the watch during the collision, was also court-martialed and dismissed the service. These several unfortunate happenings had given De Sartine a very low idea of the efficiency and value of the Bon Homme Richard and the squadron, which galled Jones extremely. Indeed, I imagine De Sartine looked upon Jones in the light of a nuisance more than anything else. The repairs progressed very slowly, and it was not until August that the ships were ready to proceed. Meanwhile an event of the greatest importance had occurred in the arrival of a cartel at Nantes with one hundred and nineteen exchanged American prisoners. Many of them entered on the Richard, and Jones was thus enabled to weed out a large proportion of the mutinous and disorderly element in his crew. The fine qualities of some of these new recruits enabled him to replace many of his petty officers--invaluable adjuncts to an efficient crew--with experienced seamen who could be depended upon, not merely as sailors, but as men who, fresh from the horrors and brutalities of English prisons, were more than ready to fight against the red flag wherever it was planted. They leavened the whole mass. The re-enforcement was of the greatest value; but Jones' good fortune did not end here, for before he sailed again he was joined by a young American naval officer of the highest capacity and courage, named Richard Dale, who had been captured in the Lexington and held a prisoner in England. He had effected a most daring and romantic escape from the Mill Prison by the assistance of an unknown woman, whose name and the circumstances of their acquaintance remained a mystery; Dale absolutely refused to divulge them to the day of his death. Jones found in him a congenial spirit and an able subordinate. He promptly appointed him first lieutenant of the Richard, and between the two men there speedily developed a friendship as lasting as it was unaffected and disinterested. Next to Jones himself, in the early records, stands the name of this young man, then scarcely twenty-three years of age. Aside from the great commodore, it was he who contributed more to the subsequent success of the Richard than any other man. At the request of De Sartine, Jones also received on the Richard a battalion of royal marines, who were all French of course, and who had been augmented until they numbered one hundred and thirty-seven officers and men, under Lieutenant-Colonel de Chamillard de Warville. It was supposed by the minister that they could at least keep order on the ship! The time limited to the expiration of the cruise was extended to the end of the month of September. The total complement of the Richard, therefore, according to Jones' statement, was about three hundred and eighty officers, men, and boys, including the one hundred and thirty-seven marines. A roll of officers and men is given by Sherburne in his Life of Jones. On this list, which purports to contain the names of those who were on board on the date of the battle with the Serapis, are enumerated the names of but two hundred and twenty-seven officers and men. It omits the name of de Chamillard and another colonel of infantry, de Weibert, who were actually on board, and gives no names of the French marines. Adding the two hundred and twenty-seven to the one hundred and thirty-seven, we get three hundred and sixty-four, which is as near as we can come to Jones' figures. There may have been others whose names were added later on, but at any rate it is safe to take Jones' statement as practically correct. Assuming that the known factors fairly represented the whole crew, we find that among the officers twenty-four were Americans, two were Frenchmen, and six British, including Jones and two surgeon's mates. Among the seamen fifty-five were American born, sixteen Irish, sixty-one British, twenty-eight Portuguese, twenty who are not described, of whom seven were probably Portuguese, and fifteen of other nationalities, including, according to Cooper, some Malays--possibly Filipinos learning thus early to fight for freedom under, not against, the Stars and Stripes! Thus, scarcely more than one fifth of the complement were native Americans. The marines, of course, were efficiently organized and commanded, and were of the usual character of the men in the French service. The rest of the crew, with the exception of the Americans, who were filling the posts of petty officers, were a hard-bitten, reckless crowd of adventurers, mercenaries, bravos, and what not, whom only a man like Jones could control and successfully direct. Under his iron hand they developed into as ready a crew as ever fought a ship, and in our estimation of his subsequent success the fact must not be lost sight of that he made out of such a motley assemblage so efficient an organization. The officers were fairly capable, though none of them reached the standard of Dale, and at least one of them left the cruise with a serious cloud upon his reputation. Perhaps two thirds of the crew of the Alliance were English seamen who had been recruited from the men of the line of battle ship Somerset, which had been wrecked in America, and a large number of her crew captured. They enlisted on the Alliance in the hope of capturing her and making their escape, thus avoiding a sojourn in American prisons. On the way to France, owing to the presence of these men on the ship, a conspiracy had developed, the successful termination of which was only prevented by the resolution and courage of Lafayette and the passengers with the regular officers of the ship. There were but a small number of Americans on the Alliance, owing to the fact that she was commanded by a Frenchman, under whom Americans generally refused to sail. The officers, with few exceptions, were poor in quality. Her crew had been somewhat improved before the squadron sailed, by the enlistment of some of the prisoners from the cartel, but it was still far from being an efficient body of men, and under such a captain as Landais there was no hope of it ever becoming so. The officers and crew of the Pallas, Vengeance, and Cerf were French _in toto_, the officers all holding French commissions. The squadron was entirely at the charges of the French Government, although each of the officers sailed with a supplementary American commission issued by Franklin and his _confrères_, and all the vessels were under the American flag. De Chaumont had been indefatigable in fitting out the ships as best he could, and personally he had done everything in his power to further the success of the enterprise. If his labors had ceased there, the results would have been better; but, probably under the direction of the minister, and influenced by the natural reluctance of the French officers and men to serve under the command of an officer of another country, de Chaumont prepared a concordat, which he suppressed until just before the time of sailing, when it was exhibited to Jones and the other captains and their signatures demanded. By the terms of this singular document the officers and men and the several vessels of the squadron, instead of being under the absolute charge of Jones himself, as is the case with every properly organized expedition, were formed into a species of alliance offensive and defensive; and while, of course, the headship was necessarily under Jones while he lived, he was so hampered and restricted by the various articles of the agreement as to feel himself scarcely more than first among his equals. He was left with full responsibility for success, but so shorn of power and ability to compel obedience to his orders as to render it necessary for him to resort to persuasion to effect his end. Any ordinary commander would have withdrawn at the last moment, but Jones was determined upon effecting something; so, with great reluctance and unavailing protests, he signed the concordat, and the ill-assorted squadron proceeded on its way.[10] Surely never before was such an expedition for warlike purposes put forth upon the narrow seas! It is difficult to see what result any sane man could have legitimately expected from it. That it accomplished anything was due to Jones himself--commodore by virtue of a paper agreement, just as binding and effective as any of the several signers wished it to be! The world had long known him as a man remarkable for audacity in conception, boldness in planning, hardihood in carrying out, and downright courage in the supreme moment. As a seaman and a fighter he had few equals and no masters. But the cruise developed that he possessed other qualities of leadership which are sometimes lost sight of in this brilliant galaxy, qualities which his previous experience had not led us to expect him to exhibit. He was shown to be considerate, tactful, forbearing, persuasive, holding himself under strong restraint. Naturally of a passionate, impetuous, uncontrollable nature, that he exhibited these qualities speaks well for the man. He had learned to control his feelings in the bitter school of procrastination, evasion, and disappointment of the past year. CHAPTER IX. THE CRUISE OF THE SQUADRON. All things being as ready as it was possible to make them, on the 14th of August, 1779, amid the booming of cannon and the waving of flags, the expedition set sail. Very pretty it must have looked, dropping down the roads, as sail after sail was set on the broad yardarms extending above the little commander on the poop deck of the Indiaman, resolutely putting his difficulties and trials behind him, and glad to be at last at sea and headed for the enemy. And yet he might well have borne a heavy heart! Only a man of Jones' caliber could have faced the possibilities with a particle of equanimity. By any rule of chance or on any ground of probability the expedition was doomed to failure, capture, or destruction. But the personality of Jones, his serene and soon-to-be-justified confidence in himself, discounted chance and overthrew probability. I have noticed it is ever the man with the fewest resources and poorest backing who accomplishes most in the world's battles. The man who has things made easy for him usually "takes it easy," and accomplishes the easy thing or nothing. The squadron was accompanied by two heavily armed privateers, the Monsieur and the Granvelle, raising the number of vessels to seven. The masters of the privateers did not sign the concordat, but they entered into voluntary association with the others and agreed to abide by the orders of Jones--an agreement they broke without hesitation in the face of the first prize, which was captured on the 18th of August. The prize was a full-rigged ship, called the Verwagting, mounting fourteen guns and loaded with brandy. The vessel, a Dutch ship, had been captured by the English, and was therefore a lawful prize to the squadron. The captain of the Monsieur, which was the boarding vessel, plundered the prize of several valuable articles for his own benefit, manned her, and attempted to dispatch her to Ostend. Jones, however, overhauled her, replaced the prize crew by some of his own men, and sent her in under his own orders. The Monsieur and her offended captain thereupon promptly deserted the squadron in the night. On the 21st, off the southwest coast of Ireland, they captured a brig, the Mayflower, loaded with butter, which was also manned and sent in. On the 23d they rounded Cape Clear, the extreme southwestern point of Ireland. The day being calm, Jones manned his boats and sent them inshore to capture a brigantine. The ship, not having steerage way, began to drift in toward the dangerous shore after the departure of the boats, and it became necessary to haul her head offshore, for which purpose the captain's barge was sent ahead with a towline. As the shades of evening descended, the crew of the barge, who were apparently English, took advantage of the absence of the other boats and the opportunity presented, to cut the towline and desert. As they made for the shore, Mr. Cutting Lunt, third lieutenant, with four marines, jumped into a small boat remaining, and chased the fugitives without orders; but, pursuing them too far from the ship, a fog came down which caused him to lose his bearings, and prevented him from joining the Richard that night. The crew of a commodore's barge, like the crew of a captain's gig, is usually made up of picked men, and the character of the Richard's crew is well indicated by this desertion. The other boats luckily managed to rejoin the Richard, after succeeding in cutting out the brigantine. The ships beat to and fro off the coast until the next day, when the captains assembled on the Richard. Landais behaved outrageously on this occasion. He reproached Jones in the most abusive manner, as if the desertion of the barge and the loss of the two boats was due to negligence on his part. One can imagine with what grim silence the irate little American listened to the absurd tirade, and in what strong control he held himself to keep from arresting Landais where he stood. It gives us a vivid picture of the situation of the fleet to find that Jones was actually compelled to consult with his captains and obtain the consent of de Varage before he could order the Cerf to reconnoiter the coast, if possible to find the two boats and their crews. Thus, as Commodore Mackenzie, himself a naval officer, grimly remarks: "Before giving orders of indispensable necessity, as a superior officer, we find him taking the advice of one captain and obtaining the consent and approbation of another." But we may be sure that it was only dire necessity that required such a course of action. Evidently the situation was not to the liking of the commodore, but it was one that he could not remedy. As the Cerf approached the shore to reconnoiter, she hoisted the English colors to disguise her nationality, and was seen by Mr. Lunt, who had evidently overtaken the deserters. Mistaking her character, he pulled in toward the shore to escape the fancied danger, and was easily captured by the English with the two boats and their crews. By this unfortunate mishap the Richard lost two of her boats, containing an officer and twenty-two men. The Cerf, losing sight of the squadron in the evening, turned tail and went back to France, instead of proceeding to the first of the various rendezvous which had been agreed upon. The Granvelle, having made a prize on her own account, took advantage of her entirely independent position and the fact that she was far away from the Richard to disregard signals and make off with her capture. This reduced the squadron to the Richard, Alliance, Pallas, and Vengeance. It was Jones' desire to cruise to and fro off the harbor of Limerick to intercept the West Indian ships, which, to the number of eight or ten, were daily expected. These vessels, richly laden, were of great value, and their capture could have easily been effected, but Landais protested vehemently against remaining in any one spot. Among other things, the Frenchman was undoubtedly a coward, and, of course, by remaining steadily in one place opportunities for being overhauled were greatly increased. Jones finally succumbed to Landais' entreaties and protestations, which were backed up by those of Captains Cottineau and Ricot. Of course, it is impossible to say how far his authority would have lasted had he peremptorily refused to accede to their demands, as paper concordats are not very binding ties; but he might perhaps have made a more determined effort to induce them to carry out his plans and remain with him. To leave the position he had chosen, which presented such opportunities, was undoubtedly an error in judgment, and Jones tacitly admits it in the following words, written long afterward: "Nothing prevented me from pursuing my design but the reproach that would have been cast upon my character as a man of prudence.[11] It would have been said: 'Was he not forewarned by Captain Cottineau and others?'" The excuse is as bad as, if not worse than, the decision. But this is almost the only evidence of weakness and irresolution which appears in Jones' conduct in all the emergencies in which he was thrown. It is impossible to justify this action, but, in view of the circumstances, which we can only imagine and hardly adequately comprehend, we need not censure him too greatly for his indecision. In fact, the decision itself was a mistake which the ablest of men might naturally make. The weakness lay in the excuse which he himself offers, and which it pains one to read. In this connection the noble comment of Captain Mahan is interesting: "The subordination of public enterprises to considerations of personal consequences, even to reputation, is a declension from the noblest in a public man. Not life only, but personal credit, is to be fairly risked for the attainment of public ends." It can not be said that Jones was altogether disinterested in his actions. The mere common, vulgar, mercenary motives were absent from his undertakings, but it must be admitted that he never lost sight of the results, not only to his country and its success, but to his own reputation as well. If Jones had proceeded in his intention, and Landais had finally deserted him, the results would have been very much better for the cruise--always provided that the Pallas at least remained with the Richard. We shall see later on that all the ships deserted him on one occasion. On the 26th of August a heavy gale blew up from the southwest, and Jones scudded before it to the northward along the Irish coast. Landais deliberately changed the course of the Alliance in the darkness, and, the tiller of the Pallas having been carried away during the night, Jones found himself alone with the Vengeance the next morning. The gale having abated, these two remaining vessels continued their course in a leisurely manner along the Irish coast. On the 31st the Alliance hove in sight, followed by a valuable West Indiaman called the Betsy, mounting twenty-two guns, which she had captured--a sample of what might have resulted if the squadron had stayed off Limerick. The Pallas having also joined company again, on the 1st of September the Richard brought to the Union, a government armed ship of twenty-two guns, bound for Halifax with valuable naval stores. Before boats were called away and the prize taken possession of, with unparalleled insolence Landais sent a messenger to Jones asking whether the Alliance should man the prize, in which case he should allow no man from the Richard to board her! With incredible complaisance the long-suffering Jones allowed Landais to man this capture also, while he himself received the prisoners on the Richard. These two vessels, in violation of Jones' explicit orders, were sent in to Bergen, Norway, where they were promptly released by the Danish Government and returned to England on the demand of the British minister. Their value was estimated at forty thousand pounds sterling. The unwarranted return of the vessels was the foundation of a claim for indemnity against Denmark, of which we shall hear later. On the day of the capture Landais disregarded another specific signal from the flagship to chase; instead of doing which, he wore ship and headed directly opposite the direction in which he should have gone. The next morning he again disregarded a signal to come within hail of the Richard, on which occasion he did not even set an answering pennant. On September 3d and 4th the squadron captured a brig and two sloops off the Shetland Islands. On the evening of this day Jones summoned the captains to the flagship. Landais refused to go, and when de Cottineau tried to persuade him to do so he became violently abusive, and declared that the matters at issue between the commodore and himself were so grave that they could only be settled by a personal meeting on shore, at which one or the other should forfeit his life. Fortunately for the peace of mind of the commodore, whose patience had reached the breaking point, the Alliance immediately after parted company, and did not rejoin the command until the 23d of September. If Landais had stayed away altogether, or succeeded in getting himself lost or captured, it would have been a great advantage to the country. Another gale blew up on the 5th, and heavy weather continued for several days. The little squadron of three vessels labored along through the heavy seas to the northward, passed the dangerous Orkneys, doubled the wild Hebrides, rounded the northern extremity of Scotland, and on the evening of the 13th approached the east coast near the Cheviot Hills. On the 14th they arrived off the Firth of Forth, where they were lucky enough to capture one ship and one brigantine loaded with coal. From them they learned that the naval force in the harbor of Leith was inconsiderable, consisting of one twenty-gun sloop of war and three or four cutters. Jones immediately conceived the idea of destroying this force, holding the town under his batteries, landing a force of marines, and exacting a heavy ransom under threat of destruction. [Illustration: Map showing the cruises of the Ranger and the Bon Homme Richard, and the dash of the Alliance from the Texel.] Although weakened in force by the desertion of the ships, by the number of prizes he had manned, and the large number of prisoners on board the Richard, he still hoped, as he says, to teach English cruisers the value of humanity on the other side of the water, and by this bold attack to demonstrate the vulnerability of their own coasts. He also counted upon this diversion in the north to call attention from the expected grand invasion in the south of England by the French and Spanish fleets. The wind was favorable for his design, but unfortunately the Pallas and the Vengeance, which had lagged as usual, were some distance in the offing. Jones therefore ran back to meet them in order to advise them of his plan and concert measures for the attack. He found that the French had but little stomach for the enterprise; they positively refused to join him in the undertaking, a decision which, by the terms of the concordat, they had a right to make. After a night spent in fruitless argument between the three captains--think of it, arguments in the place of orders!--Jones appealed to their cupidity, probably the last thing that would have moved him. By painting the possibilities of plunder he wrung a reluctant consent from these two gentlemen, and proceeded rapidly to develop the plan. As usual, not being able to embrace the opportunity when it was presented, a change in the wind rendered it impossible for the present. The design and opportunity were too good, however, to be lost, and the squadron beat to and fro off the harbor, waiting for a shift of wind to make practicable the effort. On the 15th they captured another collier, a schooner, the master of which, named Andrew Robertson, was bribed by the promised return of his vessel to pilot them into the harbor of Leith. Robertson, a dastardly traitor, promised to do so, and saved his collier thereby. On the morning of the 16th an amusing little incident occurred off the coast of Fife. The ships were, of course, sailing under English colors, and one of the seaboard gentry, taking them for English ships in pursuit of Paul Jones, who was believed to be on the coast, sent a shore boat off to the Richard asking the gift of some powder and shot with which to defend himself in case he received a visit from the dreaded pirate. Jones, who was much amused by the situation, made a courteous reply to the petition, and sent a barrel of powder, expressing his regret that he had no suitable shot. He detained one of the boatmen, however, as a pilot for one of the other ships. During the interim the following proclamation was prepared for issuance when the town had been captured. The document is somewhat diffuse in its wording, but the purport of it is unmistakable: "The Honorable J. Paul Jones, Commander-in-chief of the American Squadron, now in Europe, to the Worshipful Provost of Leith, or, in his absence, to the Chief Magistrate, who is now actually present, and in authority there. "Sir: The British marine force that has been stationed here for the protection of your city and commerce, being now taken by the American arms under my command, I have the honour to send you this summons by my officer, Lieutenant-Colonel de Chamillard, who commands the vanguard of my troops. I do not wish to distress the poor inhabitants; my intention is only to demand your contribution toward the reimbursement which Britain owes to the much-injured citizens of the United States; for savages would blush at the unmanly violation and rapacity that have marked the tracks of British tyranny in America, from which neither virgin innocence nor helpless age has been a plea of protection or pity. "Leith and its port now lie at our mercy; and, did not our humanity stay the hand of just retaliation, I should, without advertisement, lay it in ashes. Before I proceed to that stern duty as an officer, my duty as a man induces me to propose to you, by means of a reasonable ransom, to prevent such a scene of horror and distress. For this reason I have authorized Lieutenant-Colonel de Chamillard to conclude and agree with you on the terms of ransom, allowing you exactly half an hour's reflection before you finally accept or reject the terms which he shall propose. If you accept the terms offered within the time limited, you may rest assured that no further debarkation of troops will be made, but the re-embarkation of the vanguard will immediately follow, and the property of the citizens shall remain unmolested." On the afternoon of the 16th, the squadron was sighted from Edinburgh Castle, slowly running in toward the Firth. The country had now been fully alarmed. It is related that the audacity and boldness of this cruise and his previous successes had caused Jones to be regarded with a terror far beyond that which his force justified, and which well-nigh paralyzed resistance. Arms were hastily distributed, however, to the various guilds, and batteries were improvised at Leith. On the 17th, the Richard, putting about, ran down to within a mile of the town of Kirkaldy. As it appeared to the inhabitants that she was about to descend upon their coast, they were filled with consternation. There is a story told that the minister of the place, a quaint oddity named Shirra, who was remarkable for his eccentricities, joined his people congregated on the beach, surveying the approaching ship in terrified apprehension, and there made the following prayer: "Now, deer Lord, dinna ye think it a shame for ye to send this vile piret to rob our folk o' Kirkaldy? for ye ken they're puir enow already, and hae naething to spaire. The wa the ween blaws, he'll be here in a jiffie, and wha kens what he may do? He's nae too guid for onything. Meickle's the mischief he has dune already. He'll burn thir hooses, tak their very claes and tirl them to the sark; and wae's me! wha kens but the bluidy villain might take their lives! The puir weemen are maist frightened out o' their wits, and the bairns skirling after them. I canna thol't it! I canna thol't it! I hae been lang a faithfu' servant to ye, Laird; but gin ye dinna turn the ween about, and blaw the scoundrel out of our gate, I'll na staur a fit, but will just sit here till the tide comes. Sae tak yere will o't." This extraordinary petition has probably lost nothing by being handed down. At any rate, just as that moment, a squall which had been brewing broke violently over the ship, and Jones was compelled to bear up and run before it. The honest people of Kirkaldy always attributed their relief to the direct interposition of Providence as the result of the prayer of their minister. He accepted the honors for his Lord and himself by remarking, whenever the subject was mentioned to him, that he had prayed but the Lord had sent the wind! It is an interesting tale, but its effect is somewhat marred when we consider that Jones had no intention of ever landing at Kirkaldy or of doing the town any harm. He was after bigger game, and in his official account he states that he finally succeeded in getting nearly within gunshot distance of Leith, and had made every preparation to land there, when a gale which had been threatening blew so strongly offshore that, after making a desperate attempt to reach an anchorage and wait until it blew itself out, he was obliged to run before it and get to sea. When the gale abated in the evening he was far from the port, which had now become thoroughly alarmed. Heavy batteries were thrown up and troops concentrated for its protection, so that he concluded to abandon the attempt. His conception had been bold and brilliant, and his success would have been commensurate if, when the opportunity had presented itself, he had been seconded by men on the other ships with but a tithe of his own resolution. The squadron continued its cruise to the southward and captured several coasting brigs, schooners, and sloops, mostly laden with coal and lumber. Baffled in the Forth, Jones next determined upon a similar project in the Tyne or the Humber, and on the 19th of the month endeavored to enlist the support of his captains for a descent on Newcastle-upon-Tyne, as it was one of his favorite ideas to cut off the London coal supply by destroying the shipping there; but Cottineau, of the Pallas, refused to consent. The ships had been on the coast now for nearly a week, and there was no telling when a pursuing English squadron would make its appearance. Cottineau told de Chamillard that unless Jones left the coast the next day the Richard would be abandoned by the two remaining ships. Jones, therefore, swallowing his disappointment as best he might, made sail for the Humber and the important shipping town of Hull. It was growing late in September, and the time set for the return to the Texel was approaching. As a matter of fact, however, though Jones remained on the coast cruising up and down and capturing everything he came in sight of, in spite of his anxiety Cottineau did not actually desert his commodore. Cottineau was the best of the French officers. Without the contagion of the others he might have shown himself a faithful subordinate at all times. Having learned the English private signals from a captured vessel, Jones, leaving the Pallas, boldly sailed into the mouth of the Humber, just as a heavy convoy under the protection of a frigate and a small sloop of war was getting under way to come out of it. Though he set the English flag and the private signals in the hope of decoying the whole force out to sea and under his guns, to his great disappointment the ships, including the war vessels, put back into the harbor. The Richard thereupon turned to the northward and slowly sailed along the coast, followed by the Vengeance. Early in the morning of September 23d, while it was yet dark, the Richard chased two ships, which the daylight revealed to be the Pallas and the long-missing Alliance, which at last rejoined. The wind was blowing fresh from the southwest, and the two ships under easy canvas slowly rolled along toward Flamborough Head. Late in the morning the Richard discovered a large brigantine inshore and to windward. Jones immediately gave chase to her, when the brigantine changed her course and headed for Bridlington Bay, where she came to anchor. Bridlington Bay lies just south of Flamborough Head, which is a bold promontory bearing a lighthouse and jutting far out into the North Sea. Vessels from the north bound for Hull or London generally pass close to the shore at that point, in order to make as little of a detour as possible. For this reason Jones had selected it as a particularly good cruising ground. Sheltered from observation from one side or the other, he waited for opportunities, naturally abundant, to pounce upon unsuspecting merchant ships. The Baltic fleet had not yet appeared off the coast, though it was about due. Unless warned of his presence, it would inevitably pass the bold headland and afford brilliant opportunity for attack. If his unruly consorts would only remain with him a little longer something might yet be effected. To go back now would be to confess to a partial failure, and Jones was determined to continue the cruise even alone, until he had demonstrated his fitness for higher things. Fate had his opportunity ready for him, and he made good use of it. CHAPTER X. THE BATTLE WITH THE SERAPIS. About noon on the 23d of September, 1779, the lookouts on the Richard became aware of the sails of a large ship which suddenly shot into view around the headland. Before any action could be taken the first vessel was followed by a second, a third, and others to the number of six, all close hauled on the starboard tack, evidently intent upon weathering the point. The English flags fluttering from their gaff ends proclaimed a nationality, of which, indeed, there could be no doubt. The course of the Richard was instantly changed. Dispatching a boat under the command of Lieutenant Henry Lunt to capture the brigantine, Jones, in high anticipation, headed the Richard for the strangers, at the same time signaling the Alliance, the Pallas, and the Vengeance to form line ahead on his ship--that is, get into the wake of the Richard and follow in single file. The Alliance seems to have been ahead and to windward of the Richard, the Pallas to windward and abreast, and the Vengeance in the rear of the flagship. It had not yet been developed whether the six ships, which, even as they gazed upon them, were followed by others until forty sail were counted, were vessels of war or a merchant fleet under convoy; but with characteristic audacity Jones determined to approach them sufficiently near to settle the question. He had expressed his intention of going in harm's way, and for that purpose had asked a swift ship. He could hardly have had a slower, more unwieldy, unmanageable vessel under him than the Richard, but the fact had not altered his intention in the slightest degree, so the course of the Richard was laid for the ships sighted. Captain Landais, however, was not actuated by the same motives as his commander. He paid no attention, as usual, to the signal, but instead ran off to the Pallas, to whose commander he communicated in a measure some of his own indecision. In the hearing of the crews of both vessels Landais called out to his fellow captain that if the fleet in view were convoyed by a vessel of more than fifty guns they would have nothing to do but run away, well knowing that in such a case the Pallas, being the slowest sailer of the lot--slower even than the Richard--would inevitably be taken. Therefore, with his two other large vessels beating to and fro in a state of frightened uncertainty, Jones with the Richard bore down alone upon the enemy. The Vengeance remained far enough in the rear of the Richard to be safe out of harm's way, and may be dismissed from our further consideration, as she took no part whatever in the subsequent events. Closer scrutiny had satisfied the American that the vessels in sight were the longed-for Baltic merchant fleet which was convoyed by two vessels of war, one of which appeared to be a small ship of the line or a heavy frigate. In spite, therefore, of the suspicious maneuvers of his consorts, Jones flung out a signal for a general chase, crossed his light yards and swept toward the enemy. Meanwhile all was consternation in the English fleet off the headland. A shore boat which had been noticed pulling hard toward the English convoying frigate now dashed alongside, and a man ascended to her deck. Immediately thereafter signals were broken out at the masthead of the frigate, attention being called to them by a gun fired to windward. All the ships but one responded by tacking or wearing in different directions in great apparent confusion, but all finally headed for the harbor of Scarborough, where, under the guns of the castle, they hoped to find a secure refuge. As they put about they let fly their topgallant sheets and fired guns to spread the alarm. Meanwhile the English ship, which proved to be the frigate Serapis, also tacked and headed westward, taking a position between her convoy and the approaching ships. Some distance to leeward of the frigate, and farther out to sea, to the eastward, a smaller war vessel, in obedience to orders, also assumed a similar position, and both waited for the advancing foe. Early that morning Richard Pearson, the captain of the Serapis, had been informed that Paul Jones was off the coast, and he had been instructed to look out for him. The information had been at once communicated to the convoy, to which cautionary orders had been given, which had been in the main disregarded, as was the invariable custom with convoys. The shore boat which the men on the Richard had just observed speaking the Serapis contained the bailiff of Scarborough Castle, who confirmed the previous rumors and undoubtedly pointed out the approaching ships as Jones' squadron. Pearson, as we have seen, had signaled his convoy, and the latter, now apprised of their danger beyond all reasonable doubt by the sight of the approaching ships, had at last obeyed his orders. Then he had cleverly placed his two ships between the oncoming American squadron to cover the retreat of his charges and to prevent the enemy from swooping down upon them. His position was not only proper and seamanlike, but it was in effect a bold challenge to his approaching antagonist--a challenge he had no wish to disregard, which he eagerly welcomed, in fact. In obedience to Jones' signal for a general chase, the Richard and the Pallas were headed for their two enemies. As they drew nearer the Pallas changed her course in accordance with Jones' directions, and headed for the smaller English ship, the Countess of Scarborough, a twenty-four gun, 6-pounder sloop of war, by no means an equal match for the Pallas. The Vengeance followed at a safe distance in the rear of the commodore, while Landais disregarded all signals and pursued an erratic course of his own devising. Sometimes it appeared that he was about to follow the Richard, sometimes the Pallas, sometimes the flying merchantmen attracted his attention. It was evident that the one thing he would not do would be to fight. In utter disgust, Jones withdrew his attention from him and concentrated his mind upon the task before him. He was about to engage with his worn-out old hulk, filled with condemned guns, a splendid English frigate of the first class. A comparison of force is interesting. Counting the main battery of the Richard as composed of twelves and the spar-deck guns as nines, and including the six 18-pounders in the gun room as being all fought on one side, we get a total of forty guns throwing three hundred and three pounds of shot to the broadside; this is the extreme estimate. Counting one half of the main battery as 9-pounders, we get two hundred and eighty-two pounds to the broadside, and, considering the 18-pounders as being fought only three on a side, we reduce the weight of the broadside to two hundred and twenty-eight pounds. As it happened, as we shall see, the 18-pounders were abandoned after the first fire, so that the effective weight of broadside during the action amounted to either one hundred and ninety-five or one hundred and seventy-four pounds, depending on the composition of the main battery. Even the maximum amount is small enough by comparison. The crew of the Richard had been reduced to about three hundred officers and men, as near as can be ascertained. The desertion of the barge, the loss of the boat under Cutting Lunt off the Irish coast, the various details by which the several prizes had been manned, and the absence of the boat sent that morning under the charge of Henry Lunt, which had not, and did not come back until after the action, had reduced the original number to these figures. A most serious feature of the situation was the lack of capable sea officers. There were so few of the latter on board the Richard originally that the absence of the two mentioned seriously hampered her work. Dale himself was a host. Those that remained, who, with the exception of the purser, sailing master, and the officers of the French contingent, were young and inexperienced, mostly midshipmen--boys, in fact--made up for their deficiencies by their zeal and courage. The officers of the French contingent proved themselves to be men of a high class, who could be depended upon in desperate emergencies. The Serapis was a brand-new, double-banked frigate, of about eight hundred tons burden--that is, she carried guns on two covered and one uncovered decks. This was an unusual arrangement, not subsequently considered advantageous or desirable, but it certainly enabled her to present a formidable battery within a rather short length; her shortness, it was believed, would greatly enhance her handiness and mobility, qualities highly desirable in a war vessel, especially in the narrow seas. On the lower or main deck twenty 18-pounders were mounted; on the gun deck proper, twenty 9-pounders; and on the spar deck, ten 6-pounders, making a total of fifty guns, twenty-five in broadside, throwing three hundred pounds' weight of shot at each discharge as against the Richard's one hundred and seventy-four. She was manned by about three hundred trained and disciplined English seamen, forming a homogeneous, efficient crew, and well they proved their quality. Richard Pearson, her captain, was a brave, competent, and successful officer, who had enjoyed a distinguished career, winning his rank by gallant and daring enterprises; no ordinary man, indeed, but one from whom much was to be expected. In making this comparison between the two ships it must not be forgotten that while the difference in the number of guns--ten--was not great, yet in their caliber and the consequent weight of broadside the Richard was completely outclassed. Then, too, the penetrative power of an 18-pound gun is vastly greater than that of a 12-pound gun, a thing well understood by naval men, though scarcely appearing of much moment on paper. Indeed, it was a maxim that a 12-pound frigate could not successfully engage an 18-pounder, or an 18-pound frigate cope with a 24-pound ship.[12] In addition to this vast preponderance in actual fighting force, there was another great advantage to the Serapis in the original composition of her crew as compared with the heterogeneous crowd which Jones had been compelled to hammer into shape. Worthily, indeed, did both bodies of men demonstrate their courage and show the effect of their training. There was a further superiority in the English ship in that she was built for warlike purposes, and was not a converted and hastily adapted merchant vessel. She was of much heavier construction, with more massive frames, stouter sides, and heavier scantling. The last advantage Pearson's ship possessed was in her superior mobility and speed. She should have been able to choose and maintain her distance, so that with her longer and heavier guns she could batter the Richard to pieces at pleasure, herself being immune from the latter's feebler attack. In but one consideration was the Richard superior to the Serapis, and that was in the personality of the man behind the men behind the guns! Pearson was a very gallant officer. There was no blemish upon his record, no question as to his capacity. In personal bravery he was not inferior to any one. As a seaman he worthily upheld the high reputation of the great navy to which he belonged; but as a man, as a personality, he was not to be mentioned in the same breath with Jones. This is no discredit to that particular Englishman, for the same disadvantageous comparison to Jones would have to be made in the case of almost any other man that sailed the sea. There was about the little American such Homeric audacity, such cool-headed heroism, such unbreakable determination, such unshakable resolution, that so long as he lived it was impossible to conquer him. They might knock mast after mast out of the Richard; they might silence gun after gun in her batteries; man after man might be killed upon her decks; they might smash the ship to pieces and sink her beneath his feet, but there was no power on earth which could compel him to strike her flag. Jones was the very incarnation of the indomitable _Ego_: a soul that laughed at odds, that despised opposition, that knew but one thing after the battle was joined--to strike and strike hard, until opposition was battered down or the soul of the striker had fled. In action he would be master--or dead. But his fighting was no baresark fury; no blind, wild rage of struggle; no ungovernable lust for battle; it was the apotheosis of cool-blooded calculation. He fought with his head as well as with his heart, and he knew perfectly well what he was about all the time. Pearson was highly trained matter of first-rate composition; Jones was mind, and his superiority over matter was inevitable. The hot-tempered spirit of the man which involved him in so many difficulties, which made him quarrelsome, contrary, and captious, gave place to a coolness and calmness as great as his courage in the presence of danger, in the moment of action. By his skill, his ability, his address, his persistence, his staying power, his hardihood, Jones deserved that victory which his determination absolutely wrested from overwhelming odds, disaster, and defeat. The chief players in the grim game, therefore, were but ill matched, and not all the superiority in the pawns upon the chessboard could overcome the fearful odds under which the unconscious Pearson labored. We pity Pearson; in Jones' hands he was as helpless as Pontius Pilate. The crew of the Richard, having had supper and grog, had long since gone to their stations to the music of the same grim call of the beat to quarters which had rolled upon the decks of every warship of every nation which had joined battle for perhaps two hundred years. Jones was a great believer in drill and gun practice. His experience on his first cruise in the Alfred, if nothing else, had taught him that, and upon this ill-found ship with its motley crew probably a more thorough regimen of control and discipline existed than could be found in any other ship afloat. Frequent target practice was had, too, and the result proved the value of the exercise. Had this not been the case the approaching battle might have had a different termination. The great guns had been cast loose and provided; having been run in and loaded, they were run out and a turn taken with the training tackles to hold them steady. The magazines had been opened, and the gunner and his mates stationed inside the wetted woolen screen, which minimized the danger of fire, to hand out charges of powder to the lads called powder boys, or powder "monkeys," who, with their canvas carrying boxes, were clustered about the hatches. The gun captains saw that the guns were properly primed, and they looked carefully after the slow matches used to discharge the pieces, keeping them lighted and freely burning. In the iron racks provided were laid rows of round shot, with here and there a stand of grape. Arm chests were opened and cutlasses and pistols distributed, and the racks filled with boarding pikes. Many of the officers discarded their hats and put on round steel boarding caps with dropped cheek pieces. Swords were buckled on and the priming of pistols carefully looked to. The men in many cases stripped off their shirts and jackets, laid aside caps and shoes, and slipped into their stations half naked, with only a pair of trousers and their arms upon them. Division tubs filled with water were placed conveniently at hand, and the decks were well sanded to prevent them from becoming slippery with blood when the action began. The pumps were overhauled and put in good condition, and hose led along the decks in case of fire. The carpenter and his mates, well provided with shot plugs to stop up possible holes, were stationed in the more vulnerable parts of the ship. The boats were wrapped with canvas to prevent splintering under heavy shot, and heavy nettings triced up fore and aft as a protection against boarders. Preventer braces were rove from the more important yardarms, the heavier yards were slung with chains, and the principal rigging, including the backstays, stoppered to minimize the danger in case they should be carried away by shot. Grapnels, strong iron hooks securely fastened to the ends of stout ropes or slender iron chains, were swung from every yardarm, and laid along the bulwarks in case it became possible or desirable to lash the ships together. Everything which would impede the working of the guns or hinder the fighting of the men was either stowed below or thrown overboard. Around the masts and at the braces the sail trimmers were clustered, some of them armed with boarding axes or hatchets, handy for cutting away wreckage. Aft on the quarter-deck and forward on the forecastle large bodies of French marines were drawn up, musket in hand. The broad, old-fashioned tops of the Richard were filled with seamen and marines, armed with muskets and having buckets full of small grenades close at hand. Among these seamen were many of the more agile and daring among the topmen--who from their stations in making and taking in sail were designated as "light yardmen"--while the marines stationed in the tops were selected for their skill as marksmen. The main body of the crew was distributed at the battery of great guns on the main deck, which were in charge of Richard Dale and a French lieutenant colonel of infantry, named de Weibert. In the gloomy recesses of the gun room, close to the water line, a little group of men was told off to fight the heavy 18-pounders. Around the hatches leading to the hold was stationed another body of seamen and marines with the master at arms, all armed to the teeth, to guard the English prisoners, whose number is variously stated from two to three hundred. The relieving tackles to use in steering the ship in case the wheel was carried away occupied the attention of another group. Far below the water line in the dark depths of the ship--a bloody place familiarly known as the cockpit--the surgeon and his mates unconcernedly spread out the foreboding array of ghastly instruments and appliances of the rude surgery of the rude period, in anticipation of the demands certain to be made upon them. At the break of the poop a veteran quartermaster and several assistants stood grasping the great wheel of the ship with sturdy fingers. Little groups of men were congregated on the quarter-deck and forecastle and in the gangways to man the 9-pounders, which were to play so important a part in the action. Jones himself, a quiet, composed little figure of slender proportions, paced steadily to and fro athwart the ship, now eagerly peering ahead as the shades of night descended, now casting a solemn glance aloft at the swelling canvas softly rounded out into huge curves in the gentle breeze. Ever and anon he threw a keen glance back toward the Alliance. When his gaze fell upon her, the compression of his lips and the fierceness of his look boded ill for Landais when he had time to deal with him. What must have been his thoughts in this momentous hour! One likes to dwell upon him there and then; so alone and so undaunted on that old deck in that gray twilight, resolutely proceeding to battle with a ship which, now that it was in plain view, his practised eye easily determined surpassed his own in every particular. At such a moment, when every faculty of his mind naturally would be needed to fight his own vessel, suggestions of treachery and disobedience and an utter inability to tell what his cowardly and soon-to-be-proved traitorous subordinate would do, made his situation indeed unbearable. But he dismissed all these things from his mind. Confident in the justice of his cause--in the approval of Heaven for that cause--and full of trust in his own ability and personality, he put these things out of his head and swept on. He was a figure to inspire confidence on the deck of any ship. The men, who had perhaps as vivid an appreciation of their situation and all its dangers as he had himself, looked to their captain and took confidence in the quiet poise of the lithe figure at the break of the poop, balancing itself so easily to the lumbering roll of the great ship. The young midshipmen, his personal aides, slightly withdrawn from close contact with him, respected his silence as he paced to and fro. Presently another graceful active figure, belonging to the first lieutenant of the ship, came running from below, walked rapidly along the deck, sprang up the ladder, and stopped before the little captain, whom he overtowered to a degree. He saluted gravely, and announced that the Richard was clear, the men at quarters, and the ship was ready for action. After a few moments of conversation Jones and Dale descended to the lower deck and walked through the ship. A hearty word of appreciation and encouragement here and there, as occasion suggested, heartened and stimulated the reckless crew, until they had almost risen to the captain's level. Presently he returned to the deck alone. A few final directions, one last glance of approval at the Pallas closing in on the Scarborough, one last regret, one last flush of indignation as he looked toward the Alliance--a moment, and the battle would be joined. It was about seven o'clock in the evening. The harvest moon had long since risen in the eastern sky, and was flooding the pallid sea with its glorious radiance. On the western horizon the broad, bright beacon of Flamborough Head was sending out its bright ray of yellow light over the trembling water. With a night glass, clusters of people could be seen upon the shore and upon the ships anchored under the guns of Scarborough Castle, towering grim and black against the horizon. Ahead was the white Serapis, calmly confident, lying broadside on, port shutters triced up, lights streaming from every opening. She lay with her topsails to the mast, gallantly waiting. Upon her, too, like preparations for combat had been made. Along her decks the same beating call to battle had rolled. Men who spake the same language, who read the same Bible, who but a few years since had loved the same flag, who had vied with each other in loyalty to a common king, now made ready to hurl death and destruction at each other. Presently sharp words of command rang out; there was a sudden bustle on the deck of the English ship. The braces were manned, the yards swung, and the Serapis slowly gathered way and gently forged ahead. Then all was still once more on the serene English ship. As the Richard drew nearer to the Serapis a deep silence settled over the American ship. Even over the roughest and rudest among her crew crept a feeling of awe at the terrible possibilities of the next few moments. The magnitude of their task as they came nearer became more apparent. Forced laughter died away; coarse words remained unspoken; lips foreign to prayer formed words of belated and broken petition. Thoughts went back to home: to sunny fields and vine-clad cottages in France; to frontier huts in verdant clearings in America; to rude houses in seaboard towns where the surf of the western ocean broke in wild thunder upon the rocky shore. Pictures of wives, of children, of mothers, of sweethearts, rose before the misted vision. Here and there a younger man choked down a sob. The rude jests with which men sometimes strive to disguise emotion fell unnoticed, or were sternly reprehended by the older and more thoughtful. The fitful conversation died away, and the silence was broken only by the soft sigh of the wind through the top hamper, the gentle flap of the lighter sails as the pitch of the ship threw the canvas back and forth, the soft splash of the bluff bows through the water, the straining of the timbers, the creak of the cordage through the blocks. Candle-filled battle lanterns in long rows throughout the ship shed a dim radiance over the bodies of the stalwart, half-naked, barefooted men. Here and there a brighter flash told of moonlight reflected from some gleaming sword. And the ships drew nearer--nearer. In a moment the dogs of war would be loose. Presently a sound broke the silence, a hail from the English ship. A man leaped up on her rail and a cry came faintly up through a hollowed hand against the gentle breeze: "What ship is that?" The Richard had been kept skillfully end on to the Serapis, and the commander of the latter ship had still some lingering doubts as to her nationality. Measuring the distance between the two ships, Jones quickly motioned to the watchful quartermaster beneath him. With eager hands the men began, spoke by spoke, to shift the helm to starboard. As the American ship began to swing to port it would be but a moment before her broadside would be revealed and concealment at an end. That precious moment, however, Jones would have. He sprang on the taffrail to starboard, and, catching hold of the backstay, leaned far out and called loudly: "I do not understand you." The Richard was swinging still more now. The English caught a glimpse of a lighted port forward. From it a huge gun thrust its muzzle out into the night. Quick and sharp came the hail once more: "What ship is that? Answer at once or I fire!" With what breathless silence the two ships listened for the reply! The helm was hard over now, the quartermasters holding it down with grim determination, sweat pouring from their foreheads, the ship swinging broadside in to, and a little forward of, the Englishman. Bending over toward the quarter-deck, in a clear voice heard throughout his ship, Jones called out a sharp word of command. Even as he spoke a line of fire lanced out into the night, followed by the roar of one of the 12-pounders. It was an answer not to be mistaken. Immediately the whole broadside of the Richard was let go. Simultaneously the iron throats on the Serapis belched forth their rain of hell and destruction, and the great battle was on! It was perhaps a quarter after seven. Side by side the two ships, covered with blinding smoke, sailed in the still night, broadside answering broadside, the roar of the great guns sounding in one horrible continuous note vibrating over the ocean. The thunderous diapason was punctuated by the sharp staccato rattle of the small arms. The Richard, having more way on her, forged slightly ahead of the Serapis, which had so lately filled away that she had scarcely yet begun to move. Jones, watchful of his opportunity, swung the head of his ship in toward the English frigate, hoping to cross her bows and rake her; but the careful Pearson, presently feeling the wind, gathered way and with his superior speed easily regained his distance. The game was being played as he would have it, and the bolts from his long eighteens were making havoc of the Richard. Jones now determined to back his topsails, check the speed of his own ship, allow the Serapis to forge ahead, and then fill away again, and rush the Richard alongside the English frigate so that he could board and make use of his preponderant force of soldiery. Accordingly, the way of his frigate was checked and the Serapis drew slightly ahead, receiving the fire of the Richard's battery as she passed, and maintaining her own fire in the smoke and darkness for some moments, until Pearson discovered that he had passed ahead of the Richard. The way of his ship was immediately checked. The conflict had been maintained with incredible fierceness for more than three quarters of an hour. As soon as Jones had gained sufficient distance, he smartly filled away again and headed the clumsy Richard at the Serapis; but the slow old vessel was not equal to the demands of her commander. The Richard only succeeded in striking the Serapis on the port quarter very far aft. To have attempted boarding from such a position would have been madness. There are only two positions from which a ship can be boarded advantageously. In one case, when two ships are laid side by side, by massing the crew at some point of the long line of defense necessitated by the relative position of the vessels, it may be possible to break through and effect a lodgment on the enemy's deck. The other case is when the ship desirous of boarding succeeds in crossing the bows of her enemy so that the latter vessel is subjected to a raking fire from the battery of the attacking ship, which beats down opposition and sweeps everything before it, thus affording a chance for favorable attack. Neither of these opportunities was presented at this time. Jones, nevertheless, mustered his boarders on the forecastle at this moment, heading them himself, but the English appeared in such force at the point of contact that the attempt was of necessity abandoned. The two ships hung together a moment, then separated, and, the Serapis going ahead, the Richard backing off, they formed a line ahead, the bow of the Richard following the stern of the Serapis. There was not a single great gun which bore on either ship. The roar of the battle died away, and even the crackle of the small arms ceased for a space. At this moment Pearson hailed the Richard. Having been subjected to the battering of his superior force for so long a time, Pearson concluded that it was time for the Richard to surrender. He was right in theory--in practice it was different. His own ship had suffered severely in the yardarm to yardarm fight, and he realized that the loss upon the Richard must have been proportionately greater. Even the most unskilled seaman had learned by this time the difference in the power of the two vessels. Therefore, taking advantage of the momentary cessation of the battle, he sprang up on the rail of the Serapis in the moonlight and called out: "Have you struck?" And to this interrogation Paul Jones returned that heroic answer, which since his day has been the watchword of the American sailor: "_I have not yet begun to fight!_" he cried with gay audacity. The ringing tones of his voice carried his answer not only to the ears of the English captain, but threw it far up into the high tops where the eager seamen had so busily plied their small arms. The men on the gun deck heard it with joy. It even penetrated to the gloomy recesses of the gun room, which had been the scene of such misfortune and disaster as would have determined the career of any other ship. The wounded caught the splendid inspiration which was back of the glorious declaration, and under the influence of it stifled their groans, forgot their wounds, and strove to fight on. It told the dying that their lives were not to be given in vain. Nay, those mighty words had a carrying power which lifted them above the noise of the conflict, which sent them ringing over the narrow seas, until they reverberated in the Houses of Parliament on the one side and the Court of Versailles on the other. They had a force which threw them across the thousand leagues of ocean until they were heard in every patriot camp, and repeated from the deck of every American ship, until they became a part of the common heritage of the nation as eternal as are its Stripes and Stars! The dauntless phrase of that dauntless man: "_I have not yet begun to fight!_" It was no new message. The British had heard it as they tramped again and again up the bullet-swept slopes of Bunker Hill; Washington rang it in the ears of the Hessians on the snowy Christmas morning at Trenton; the hoof beats of Arnold's horse kept time to it in the wild charge at Saratoga; it cracked with the whip of the old wagoner Morgan at the Cowpens; the Maryland troops drove it home in the hearts of their enemies with Greene at Guilford Courthouse, and the drums of France and England beat it into Cornwallis' ears when the end came at Yorktown. There, that night in that darkness, in that still moment of battle, Paul Jones declared the determination of a great people. His was the expression of an inspiration on the part of a new nation. From this man came a statement of an unshakable determination at whatever cost to be free! A new Declaration of Independence, this famous word of warning to the British king. Give up the contest now, O monarch! A greater majesty than thine is there! I imagine a roar of wild exultation quivering from truck to keelson, a gigantic Homeric laugh rising from the dry throats of the rough men as yet unharmed on the Richard as they caught the significance of their captain's reply. "It was a joke, the character of which those blood-stained ruffians could well appreciate; but the captain was in no mood for joking. He was serious, and in the simplicity of the answer lay its greatness. Strike! Not now, nor never! Beaten! The fighting is but just begun! The preposterous possibility of surrender can not even be considered. What manner of man this, with whom you battle in the moonlight, brave Pearson! An unfamiliar kind to you and to most; such as hath not been before, nor shall be again. Yet all the world shall see and understand at this time. "'_I have not yet begun to fight!_' "Surprising answer! On a ship shattered beyond repair, her best guns exploded and useless, her crew decimated, ringed about with dead and dying, the captain had not yet begun to fight! But there was no delay after the answer, no philosophizing, no heroics. The man of action was there. He meant business. Every moment when the guns were silent wasted one."[13] The Richard was in a dreadful condition, especially below. At the first fire two of the 18-pounders in the gun room had exploded, killing most of the officers and men of their crews, blowing out the side of the ship, shattering the stanchions, blowing up the deck above them, and inflicting injuries of so serious a character that they virtually settled the fate of the ship. The other guns there were immediately abandoned, and the men left alive in the division, who were not required to guard the prisoners, were sent to the gun deck to report to Dale and de Weibert. The battery which had been the main dependence of Jones had proved worse than useless. Indeed, it had done more harm than had the guns of the Serapis. I know of no action between two ships in which a similar, or even a less frightful, happening did not cause the ship suffering it to surrender at once. The two ships hung in line for a moment, then Jones put his helm hard a-starboard again and swung off to port, perhaps hoping to rake the Serapis; but the English captain, anticipating his maneuver, backed his own topsails, and the two ships passed by each other once more, the batteries reopening their fire at close range. The combat at once recommenced with the most heroic determination. Fortunately, however, the captain of the Serapis miscalculated either the speed at which his own ship backed or the speed with which the Richard drew ahead, for, before Pearson filled away again, Jones had drawn so far ahead that by consummate seamanship and quick, desperate work he managed to swing the Richard across the path of the Serapis, an astonishing feat for the slower and more unwieldy American frigate. It was his one opportunity and he embraced it--one was enough for Jones. Pearson had just succeeded in checking the stern board of his own ship, and was going ahead slowly, when the bow of his frigate ran aboard the starboard quarter of the American, thrusting her jib boom through the mizzen rigging far across the quarter-deck of the Richard. Pouring a raking fire upon the English frigate from his starboard battery, Jones, with his own hand, sprang to lash the two ships together. The sailing master, Mr. Stacy, leaped to assist him. As the officer strove to overhaul the gear lying in a tangled mass upon the deck, he broke into the natural oath of a sailor at the delay. "Don't swear, Mr. Stacy," Jones is reported to have said quietly, although he was working with feverish energy to the same end--"in another moment we may all be in the presence of our Maker--but let us do our duty." The lashing was soon passed, and passed well. The American boarders were called away again, but they could do nothing in the face of the sharp fire of the English repelling force. Meanwhile, the pressure of the wind upon the after-sails of the Serapis had broken off her bowsprit and forced her stern around until she lay broadside to the American ship. A spare anchor on the Serapis caught in the mizzen chains of the Richard, and with it and the grapnels which were hastily flung the two ships were firmly bound together, the bow of one ship by the stern of the other, heading in different ways, their starboard sides touching. Pearson at once dropped his port anchor, hoping that, his ship being anchored and the Richard under way, the American would drag clear, when his superiority in gun power would enable him to continue the process of knocking her to pieces at long range; but, fortunately for the Richard, the wind had gradually decreased until it was now nearly killed, or so light that it did not prevent the ships from swinging to the Serapis' anchor with the tidal current then setting strongly to the northward. [Illustration: Plan: Showing maneuvers of Bon Homme Richard and Serapis, September 23, 1779; showing also course and conduct of Alliance. After a drawing by Captain A. T. Mahan, U. S. N., by permission of Charles Scribner's Sons.] It was some time after eight o'clock now, and the battle at once recommenced with the utmost fury. As the Serapis had not hitherto been engaged on the starboard side,[14] it was necessary for her men to blow off the port lids of their own ship at the first discharge of her battery. They were so close together that the conflict resolved itself into a hand-to-hand encounter with great guns. As Dale said, the sponges and rammers had to be extended through the ports of the enemy in order to serve the guns. Though the American batteries were fought with the utmost resolution, they were, of course, no match whatever for those of the English ship, which had two tiers of heavier guns to oppose to one of the American. Below decks, therefore, the Americans were at a fearful disadvantage. Above, however, the number of soldiers and marines, constantly re-enforced by a stream of men sent from below as their guns were put out of action, gave them a compensating factor, and by degrees the concentrated fire of the Americans cleared the deck of the Serapis. The two ships lying side by side, slowly grinding together in the gentle sea, the yardarms were interlaced and the American topmen, again outnumbering their English antagonists, ran along the yards, and a dizzy fight in midair ensued, as the result of which, after suffering severe loss, the Americans gained possession of the British maintop. Turning their fire forward and aft, aided by attacking parties from the fore and crossjack yards, they finally cleared the English entirely out of the upper works of their ship. From this lofty point of vantage they poured such a rain of fire upon the Serapis that Pearson was left practically alone on the quarter-deck. To a chivalrous admiration for his courage he is said to owe his immunity. He, too, should have his meed of praise for the undaunted heroism with which he stood alone on the bullet-swept, blood-stained planks, maintained his position, and fought his ship. Now, to go back a little. Shortly after the two ships were lashed together, the Alliance, apparently having recovered from her hesitation, came sweeping toward the combatants, and deliberately poured a broadside into the Richard, which did not a little damage and killed several men. In spite of all signals, Landais repeated his treacherous performance, but before the Richard's men could fairly realize the astonishing situation he sailed away from them and ran over before the wind toward the Pallas, which had been for some time hotly engaged with the Countess of Scarborough, where he is said to have done the same thing.[15] This strange action of the Alliance had but little effect upon the battle at this time, which was continued with unremitting fury. One by one the small guns on the main deck of the Richard were silenced. The crews were swept away, guns were dismounted, carriages broken and shattered, and finally the whole side of the Richard from the mainmast aft was beaten in; so much so, that during the latter part of the action the shot of the Serapis passed completely through the Richard, and, meeting no opposition, fell harmlessly into the sea far on the other side. In the excitement the English never thought of depressing their guns and tearing the bottom out of the Richard. As it was, transoms were beaten out, stern frames were cut to pieces, and a few stanchions alone supported the decks above. Why they did not collapse and fall into the hull beneath it, with the guns and men on them, is a mystery. In addition to all this, the ship was on fire repeatedly, and men were continually called away from their stations to fight the flames. Dale and de Weibert had just fired their last shots from the remaining guns of the main battery which were serviceable when a new complication was added to the scene. The men guarding the prisoners had been gradually picked off by the shot of the enemy. The Richard was leaking rapidly, and when the carpenter sounded the well a little after nine o'clock, late in the action, he discovered several feet of water in it. In great alarm he shrieked out that they were sinking. The few remaining men in the gun room ran for the hatchways. The master at arms, thinking that all was over, unlocked the hatches and released the prisoners, crying out at the same time, "On deck, everybody; the ship is sinking!" The Englishmen in panic terror scrambled up through the narrow hatchways, and fought desperately with each other in their wild hurry to reach the deck, where the carpenter had preceded them, still shouting that the ship was sinking, and now crying loudly, "Quarter! Quarter!" As the carpenter ran aft, shouting his message of fear and alarm, he was followed by some of the forward officers, who, catching the contagion of his terror, repeated his words. Reaching the poop deck, the carpenter fumbled in the darkness for the halliards to haul down the flag, calling out to Jones that all was lost, the ship sinking, and that he must surrender. Other officers and men joined in the cry. It was another critical moment. Pearson, hearing the commotion, again hailed, asking if the Richard had struck. Jones, unable to stop the outcry of the terrified carpenter, smashed his skull with the butt of his pistol, and answered the second request of Pearson with, as he says, a most determined negative. We can imagine it. By his presence of mind in silencing the carpenter, and a supreme exertion of his indomitable will power, Jones soon succeeded in checking the incipient panic on the spar deck. At this period of the fight some accounts say that Pearson called his boarders from below and attempted to board. The advance was met by Jones at the head of a few men, pike in hand, with such firmness that it was not pressed home, and the men returned to their stations at the guns and resumed the fight. Meanwhile, Richard Dale, seconded by his midshipmen, with rare and never-to-be-undervalued presence of mind, had stopped the oncoming rush of frightened English prisoners, who now greatly outnumbered the broken crew of the Richard. He sprang among them, beating them down, driving them back, menacing them with the point of the sword, at the same time telling them that the English ship was sinking, and that they were in the same condition, and unless they went to the pumps immediately all hands would be inevitably lost. The audacity of this statement was worthy of Jones himself. It was a rare action on the part of a boy of twenty-three years of age. Such a young man under present conditions in the United States Navy probably would be filling the responsible station of a naval cadet afloat![16] Instantly divining this new peril, the commodore himself sprang to the hatchway and seconded Dale's effort. Incredible as it seems, the two men actually forced the panic-stricken, bewildered, and terrified English prisoners to man the pumps, thus relieving a number of the crew of the Richard; and the singular spectacle was presented of an American ship kept afloat by the efforts of Englishmen, and thus enabled to continue an almost hopeless combat. Dale, with imperturbable audacity, remained below in command of them. The Richard was a wreck. She had been fought to a standstill. Her battery was silenced, her decks were filled with released prisoners, she was making water fast, she was on fire in two or three places; numbers of her crew had been killed and wounded, the water had overflowed the cockpit, and the frightened surgeon had been driven to the deck, where, in conjunction with some of the French officers, he counseled surrender. "What!" cried Paul Jones, smiling at the surgeon, "What, doctor! Would you have me strike to a drop of water? Help me to get this gun over!" But the doctor, liking the looks of things on deck even less than below, ran down the hatchway, and, his station untenable, wandered to and fro and ministered to the wounded on every side as best he could. Meanwhile Jones had taken the place of the purser, Mr. Mease, commanding the upper battery, who had been severely wounded and forced to leave his station. The commodore was personally directing the fire of the upper deck guns left serviceable on the Richard, the two 9-pounders on the quarter-deck. With great exertion another gun was dragged over from the port side, Jones lending a hand with the rest, and the fire of the three was concentrated upon the mainmast of the Serapis. About this time, between half after nine and ten o'clock, a huge black shadow came darting between the moonlight and the two frigates grinding against each other. It was the Alliance once more entering the fray. After running away from the Richard toward the Scarborough and the Pallas, she hovered about until she found that the former had capitulated after a gallant defense against the overwhelming superiority of the French ship. Then Landais headed once more for the Richard and the Serapis. To reach them, he was forced to make two tacks. As he approached, a burning anxiety filled the minds of Jones and the officers who were left on deck with him, as to what Landais would do. They were soon enlightened. Sailing across the bow of the Serapis, the Alliance drew past the stern of the Richard, and when she had reached a position slightly on the quarter of the latter ship, she poured in a broadside. There could be no misapprehension on the part of Landais as to which ship he was firing into. The Richard was a black ship with a high poop, and the Serapis was painted a creamy white with much lower stern. The moon was filling the sky with brilliant light. Things were as plain as if it were daytime. In addition to all this, Jones had caused the private night signals to be hung upon the port side of the Richard. Shouts and cries warned the Alliance that she was firing upon her own people. These were disregarded. It was the opinion of the Americans that the English had taken the ship and were endeavoring to compass the destruction of the Richard. They could not otherwise explain the astonishing action. Sailing slowly along the starboard side of the Richard, the Alliance poured in another broadside. Then she circled the bows of the American ship, and from some distance away raked her with a discharge of grape which killed and wounded many, including Midshipman Caswell, in charge of the forecastle. It was just before ten o'clock when this happened. Some of the shot from these several broadsides may have reached the Serapis and possibly have done some damage, but the brunt of the severe attack fell upon the Richard. Her men, in the face of this awful stab in the back from a friend, naturally flinched from their guns and ran from their stations. All seemed hopeless; but Jones was still left, and while he was alive he would fight. He and his officers drove the men back to their guns, and as the Alliance sailed away, for the time being, they forgot her. The fight went on! It is greatly to the credit of the men that under such circumstances they could be induced to continue the contest. But the men had actually grown reckless of consequences: filled with the lust of battle, the brute in them was uppermost. They fought where they stood, with what they had. When the American guns were silenced, the seamen struck at their British foes over their silent muzzles with ramrods and sponges. Some endeavored to subdue the flames which broke out on every side. Others joined the English prisoners at the pumps. Many ran to the upper deck to replace the decimated crews of the 9-pounders. Some seized the muskets of the dead French soldiers and poured in a small-arm fire. They had grown careless of the fire, indifferent to the progress of the battle, ignorant of the results of the action. There was but one spirit among them, one idea possessed them--to fight and to fight on. Both crews had done their best; both had fought as men rarely had fought before; the battle was still undecided. The issue lay between Jones and Pearson. What was it to be? Things on the Richard were hopeless, but things on the Serapis had not gone much better. She, too, was on fire--in no less than twelve places at once. The fearful musketry fire from the quarter-deck and forecastle of the Richard, and from the tops, had practically cleared her decks of all but Pearson. By Jones' orders the men in the American tops had made a free use of their hand grenades. A daring sailor, sent by Midshipman Fanning from the maintop, ran out upon the main yardarm, which hung over the after hatch of the Serapis, and began to throw grenades down the hatchway. On the lower deck of that ship a large pile of powder cartridges had been allowed to accumulate, for which, on account of the silencing of a large number of guns, there had been no demand. With reckless improvidence, in their haste, the powder boys continued to pile up these unused charges on the deck of the ship between the batteries. Nobody cautioned them, perhaps nobody noticed them in the heat of the action. At last a hand grenade struck the hatch combing, bounded aft, and fell into the midst of the pile of cartridges. There was a detonating crash, a terrific explosion, which absolutely silenced the roar of the battle for a moment. The two ships rolled and rocked from the shock of it. When the smoke cleared away, the decks were filled with dead and dying. Some twenty-eight men were killed or desperately wounded by the discharge; many others on the decks were stunned, blinded, and thrown in every direction by the concussion. Clothes were ripped from them, and many of them were severely burned. Lieutenant Stanhope, in charge of that gun division, his clothing on fire, actually leaped into the sea to get relief from his agony. Afterward, though frightfully burned, he regained his station and fought on. It was this last shock that determined Pearson to surrender. He had beaten his antagonist a half dozen times, but his antagonist did not seem to realize it. In the face of such implacable determination his own nerve gave way. He was surrounded by dead and dying, no human soul apparently fit for duty on his decks but himself, the roar of his own guns silenced by this terrific explosion. He had fought through many desperate battles--never one like this. The other American frigate might come back. His consort had been captured. His nerve was broken. He turned and walked aft to the flagstaff raking from the taffrail. To this staff, with his own hand before the action, he had nailed the English flag.[17] With the same hand he seized the drooping folds of bunting, and with a breaking heart tore it from the staff. CHAPTER XI. AFTER THE BATTLE REMARKS ON THE ACTION. "They have struck their flag!" cried Jones, who had witnessed the action. "Cease firing!" His powerful voice rang through the two ships with such a note of triumph as has rarely been heard in the fought-over confines of the narrow seas. As the little scene transpired above, from the decks beneath them came the roar of the Serapis' guns. She had resumed her fire. Her men, too, were of heroic breed! A British ship captain among the English prisoners, recovering from his panic and noting the desperate condition of the Richard, had slipped away from the pumps, and, eluding the observation of Dale and his men, had crawled through the gaping openings in the sides of the Richard and the Serapis at the risk of his life--for the first Englishman who saw him moved to cut him down--and had announced the dreadful plight of the Richard to the first lieutenant of the Serapis, who had succeeded in rallying his men and forcing them once more back to the guns. But the cry of the American was taken up by the men on the different ships until Dale came bounding up the hatchway, when Jones ordered him to board the English frigate and take possession. Followed by Midshipman Mayrant and a party of boarders with drawn swords, Dale leaped up on the rail of the Richard, seized the end of the main brace pennant, swung himself to the lower Serapis, and jumped down upon her quarter-deck. As Mayrant followed he was met by an English seaman coming from the waist, pike in hand. The sailor, ignorant of or disbelieving the surrender, thrust violently at Mayrant, inflicting a serious wound in the thigh before he could be stopped. Aft upon the lee side of the deck, Pearson was standing alone with bowed head, leaning against the rail, the flag in one hand, his face being covered by the other. As the Americans clambered over the rail he raised his head--his hand fell to the breast of his coat. There was the look of defeat, the saddest aspect humanity can bear, upon his face. As Dale approached him, the English first lieutenant, not believing that the ship had struck, also came bounding from below. "Have you struck?" cried Dale, stepping before the English captain. "Yes, sir," was the reply. The anguish of the broken-hearted sailor was apparent in his face and in his voice. "Sir, I have orders to send you on board the ship alongside," replied the American. "Very good, sir," answered Pearson, reaching for his sword and dropping the flag. Just at this moment his subordinate interrupted them. "Has the enemy struck to you, sir?" he asked. "No, sir; on the contrary, he has struck to us," interposed Dale. But the English lieutenant refused to believe him. "A few more broadsides, sir, and they are ours," he persisted. "Their prisoners have escaped. They are sinking!" "The ship has struck, sir," Dale burst out hurriedly, scarcely giving the miserable Pearson an opportunity of replying, "and you are my prisoner!" Very properly, however, the English officer would take such news from no one but his own captain. "Sir!" he cried in astonishment to Pearson, "have you struck?" "Yes, sir," at last answered Pearson reluctantly. There was a deadly little pause. "I have nothing more to say, sir," replied the officer at last, turning to go below. As Dale interposed, he added, "If you will permit me to go below I will silence the firing of the lower deck guns." "No, sir," answered Dale, "you will accompany your captain on board our ship at once, by the orders of Commodore Jones. Pass the word to cease firing. Your ship has surrendered!" Dale was fearful lest the lieutenant should go below and, refusing to accept the captain's decision, attempt to resume the conflict. So, with his usual presence of mind, he sternly insisted upon both officers proceeding on board the Richard at once. In the face of the swarming crowd of the Richard's men on the Serapis' quarter-deck they had, of course, no option but to obey. By the aid of the dangling ropes they climbed up to the rail of the Indiaman and thence dropped to the quarter-deck of the American ship. They found themselves in the presence of a little man in a blue uniform which was rent and torn from the labors he had undergone during the action. He was hatless, and his dark face was grimed with the smoke and soil of battle. Blood spattering from a slight wound upon his forehead was coagulated upon his cheek. In the lurid illumination of the fire roaring fiercely forward, which, with the moon's pallid irradiation, threw a ghastly light over the scene of horror, he looked a hideous spectacle--a picture of demoniac war. Nothing but the fierce black eyes still burning with the awful passions of the past few hours and gleaming out of the darkness, with the exultant light of the present conquest proclaimed the high humanity of the man. In his hand he held a drawn sword. As the English officers stepped upon the deck he advanced toward them and bowed gracefully. "You are----" began Pearson interrogatively. "Commodore John Paul Jones, of the American Continental squadron, and the ship Bon Homme Richard, at your service, gentlemen; and you are----" "Captain Richard Pearson, of His Britannic Majesty's ship Serapis," responded the other, bowing haughtily, as he tendered his sword. Pearson is reputed to have said on this occasion, "I regret at being compelled to strike to a man who has fought with a halter around his neck," or words to that effect. He did not utter the remark at that time, according to Jones' specific statement made long afterward. The substance of the statement was used, however, in Pearson's testimony before a court martial subsequently for the loss of his ship. And the story probably arose from that circumstance. Jones retained the sword, which was customary at that period, though different customs obtained later. As he received the proffered sword the American replied, with a magnanimity as great as his valor: "Sir, you have fought like a hero, and I make no doubt that your sovereign will reward you in the most ample manner." His countrymen have ever loved Paul Jones for the chivalrous nobility of this gracious answer. But he wasted no further time in discussion. There was too much to be done; not a moment could be lost. It was half after ten o'clock at night; the battle was over, but their tasks were not yet completed. Both ships were burning furiously. Their decks were filled with desperately wounded men, whose agonies demanded immediate attention. Their screams and groans rose above the sound of the crackling, roaring flames. With but half a single crew Jones had to man both ships, put out the fires, force the escaped English prisoners back into the hold, secure the additional prisoners, and care for the wounded on the Serapis. From the actions of the Alliance, too, there was no telling what Landais might take it into his head to do. He had fired twice upon them; he might do it again, and possibly it might be necessary for Jones to defend the flagship and her prize from a more determined attack by Landais than any to which they had yet been subjected. He turned over the command of the Serapis to Dale, sending him, as usual, a generous contingent for a prize crew, and then, as a preliminary to further work, the lashings which had held the two vessels in their death grapple were cut asunder. The Richard slowly began to draw past her beaten antagonist. Dale immediately filled his head sail and shifted his helm to wear ship and carry out his orders. He was much surprised to find that the Serapis lay still and did not obey the helm. Fearing that the wheel ropes had been shot away, he sent a quartermaster to examine them, who reported that they were intact. At this moment the master of the Serapis, coming aft and observing Dale's surprise, informed him that the English ship was anchored, which was the first intimation of that fact the Americans had received. Dale ordered the cable cut, whereupon the ship paid off and began to shove through the water, which fortunately still continued calm. As he spoke, he rose from the binnacle upon which he had been seated, and immediately fell prone to the deck. He discovered at that moment, by his inability to stand, that he had been severely wounded in the leg by a splinter, a thing which he had not noticed in the heat of the action. As he lay upon the deck, Mr. Henry Lunt, the second lieutenant of the Richard, came on board the Serapis at this juncture. This officer had been dispatched in the afternoon to pursue the brigantine, and had caused his boat's crew to lay on their oars at a safe distance from the two ships during the whole of the desperate battle, because, as he states, he "thought it not prudent to go alongside in time of action." Mr. Lunt no doubt lived to regret the pusillanimous "prudence" of his conduct on this occasion, although, if that conduct be an index to his character, his services would not be of great value in the battle. Dale turned over the command of the Serapis to Lunt, and was assisted on board the Richard. As the Richard cleared the Serapis, the tottering mainmast of that ship, which had been subjected to a continual battering from the 9-pounders and which had only been sustained by the interlocking yards, came crashing down, just above the deck, carrying with it the mizzen topmast, doing much damage as it fell, and adding an element of shipwreck to the other evidence of disaster. The frigate was also on fire, and the flames, unchecked in the confusion of the surrender, were gaining great headway. Moved by a sense of their common peril and necessity, the English crew joined with the Americans in clearing away the wreck and subduing the fire. They did not effect this without a hard struggle, but they finally succeeded in saving the ship and following the Richard. The situation on that ship was precarious in the extreme. She was very low in the water and leaking like a sieve. She was still on fire in several places, and the flames were blazing more furiously than ever. There was not a minute's respite allowed her crew. Having conquered the English, they turned to fight the fire and water. The prisoners were forced to continue their exhausting toil at the pumps. Pressing every man of the crew into service, including the English officers, except those so badly wounded as to be incapable of anything, Jones and his men turned their attention to the fire. They had a hard struggle to get it under control. At one time the flames approached so near to the magazine that, fearful lest they should be blown up, Jones caused the powder to be removed and stowed upon the deck preparatory to throwing it overboard. For some time they despaired of saving the ship. Toward daybreak, however, they managed to extinguish the flames and were saved that danger. In the morning a careful inspection of the ship was made. A fearful situation was revealed. She had been torn to pieces. It was hardly safe for the officers and men to remain on the after part of the ship. Everything that supported the upper deck except a few stanchions had been torn away. Her rotten timbers had offered no resistance to the Serapis' searching shot. Jones writes: "With respect to the situation of the Bon Homme Richard, the rudder was cut entirely off, the stern frame and the transoms were almost entirely cut away; the timbers, by the lower deck especially, from the mainmast to the stern, being greatly decayed with age, were mangled beyond my power of description, and a person must have been an eyewitness to form a just idea of the tremendous scene of carnage, wreck, and ruin that everywhere appeared. Humanity can not but recoil from the prospect of such finished horror, and lament that war should produce such fatal consequences." It was evident that nothing less than a miracle could keep her afloat even in the calmest weather. With a perfectly natural feeling Jones determined to try it. A large detail from the Pallas was set to work pumping her out. Every effort, meanwhile, was made to patch her up so that she could be brought into the harbor. The efforts were in vain. Owing to the decayed condition of her timbers, even the poor remnants of her frames that were left standing aft could not bear the slightest repairing. She settled lower and lower in the water, until, having been surveyed by the carpenters and various men of experience, including Captain de Cottineau, about five o'clock in the evening it was determined to abandon her. It was time. She threatened to sink at any moment--would surely have sunk, indeed, if the pumps had stopped. She was filled with helpless wounded and prisoners. They had to be taken off before she went down. During the night everybody worked desperately transferring the wounded to the other ships, further details of men from the Pallas being told off to man the frigate and keep her afloat. Such was the haste with which they worked that they barely succeeded in trans-shipping the last of the wounded just before daybreak on the 25th. Although the sea fortunately continued smooth, the poor wounded suffered frightfully from the rough handling necessitated by the rapid transfer. The removal of the prisoners from the Richard was now begun; naturally, these men, expecting the ship to sink at any moment, were frantic with terror. They had only been kept down by the most rigorous measures. As day broke, the light revealed to them the nearness of the approaching end of the ship. They also realized that they greatly outnumbered the Americans remaining on the Richard. There was a hurried consultation among them: a quick rush, and they made a desperate attempt to take the ship. Some endeavored to overpower the Americans, others ran to the braces and wheel and got the head of the ship toward the land. A brief struggle ensued. The Americans were all heavily armed, the English had few weapons, and after two of them had been shot dead, many wounded, and others thrown overboard, they were subdued once more and the ship regained. In the confusion some thirteen of them got possession of a boat and escaped in the gray of the morning to the shore. By close, quick work during the early morning all the men alive, prisoners and crew, were embarked in the boats of the squadron before the Richard finally disappeared.[18] At ten o'clock in the morning of the 25th she plunged forward and went down bow foremost. The great battle flag under which she had been fought, which had been shot away during the action, had been picked up and reset. It fluttered above her as she slowly sank beneath the sea.[19] So filled had been the busy hours, and so many had been the demands made upon him in every direction, that Jones, ever careless of himself in others' needs, lost all of his personal wardrobe, papers, and other property. They went down with the ship. From the deck of the Serapis, Jones, with longing eyes and mingled feelings, watched the great old Indiaman, which had earned everlasting immortality because for three brief hours he and his men had battled upon her worn-out decks, sink beneath the sea. Most of those who had given their lives in defense of her in the battle lay still and silent upon her decks. There had been no time to spare to the dead. Like the Vikings of old, they found their coffin in her riven sides, and sleep to-day in the quiet of the great deep on the scene of their glory. During the interval after the action, a jury rig had been improvised on the Serapis, which had not been severely cut up below by the light guns of the Richard, and was therefore entirely seaworthy, and the squadron bore away by Jones' orders for Dunkirk, France. Before we pass to a consideration of the subsequent movements of the squadron, a further comparison between the Richard and the Serapis, with some statement of the losses sustained and the various factors which were calculated to bring about the end, will be in order, and will reveal much that is interesting. The accounts of the losses upon the two ships widely differ. Jones reported for the Richard forty-nine killed and sixty-seven wounded; total, one hundred and sixteen out of three hundred; but the number is confessedly incomplete. Pearson, for the Serapis, reported the same number of killed and sixty-eight wounded, out of a crew of three hundred and twenty; but it is highly probable that the loss in both cases was much greater. The records, as we have seen, were badly kept on the Richard, and most of them were lost when the ship went down. The books of the Serapis seemed to have fared equally ill in the confusion. The crews of both ships were scattered throughout the several ships of the American squadron, and accurate information was practically unobtainable. Jones, who was in a better position than Pearson for ascertaining the facts, reports the loss of the Serapis as over two hundred men, which is probably nearly correct, and the loss of the Richard was probably not far from one hundred and fifty men. The Countess of Scarborough lost four killed and twenty wounded. The loss of the Pallas was slight, and that of the Alliance and Vengeance nothing. However this may be, the battle was one of the most sanguinary and desperate ever fought upon the sea. It was unique in that the beaten ship, which was finally sunk by the guns of her antagonist, actually compelled that antagonist to surrender. It was remarkable for the heroism manifested by both crews. It is invidious, perhaps, to make a comparison on that score, yet, if the contrast can be legitimately drawn, the result is decidedly in favor of the Richard's men, for they had not only the enemy to occupy their attention, but they sustained and did not succumb to the treacherous attack of the Alliance in the rear. The men of the Serapis were, of course, disheartened and their nerves shattered by the explosion which occurred at the close of the action, but a similar and equally dreadful misfortune had occurred at the commencement of the engagement on the Richard, in the blowing up of the two 18-pounders. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred either of these two terrible incidents would have caused a prompt surrender of the ship on which they occurred; but the Richard's men rallied from the former, and it must not be forgotten that the Serapis' men did the like from the latter, for they had recommenced the fire of their guns just as Pearson hauled down his flag. The officers on the two ships appear to have done their whole duty, and the difference, as I have said, lay in the relative qualities of the two captains. Jones could not be beaten, Pearson could. When humanity enters into a conflict with a man like Jones, it must make up its mind to eventually discontinue the fight or else remove the man. Fortunately, Jones, though slightly wounded, was not removed; therefore Pearson had to surrender. Next to Jones, the most unique personality which was produced by the action was Richard Dale. I do not refer to his personal courage--he was no braver than Pearson; neither was Jones, for that matter; in fact, the bravery of all three was of the highest order--but to his astonishing presence of mind and resource at that crucial moment which was the third principal incident of the battle, when the English prisoners were released. The more one thinks of the prompt, ready way in which he cajoled, commanded, and coerced these prisoners into manning the pumps so that his own men could continue the battle, the result of which, if they succeeded would be to retain the English still as prisoners, the more one marvels at it. The fame of Dale has been somewhat obscured in the greater fame of Jones, but he deserves the very highest praise for his astonishing action. And in every possible public way Jones freely accorded the greatest credit to him. There is one other fact in connection with the battle which must be mentioned. The English have always claimed that the presence of the Alliance decided Pearson to surrender. In justice, I have no doubt that it did exercise a moral influence upon the English captain. In the confusion of the fight, what damage, whether little or great, had been done to the Serapis by the fire of the Alliance could not be definitely ascertained. Again, it would never enter the head of an ordinary commander that the Alliance was deliberately firing into her consort. So far as can be determined now, no damage worthy of account had been done to the English ship by the Alliance; but Pearson knew she was there, and he had a right to believe that she would return at any time. When she returned, if she should take position on the starboard side of the Serapis, the unengaged side, he would have to strike at once. Something of this sort may have been in his mind, and it would undoubtedly contribute to decide him to surrender; but, admitting all this, he should have delayed the formal surrender until the possible contingency had developed into a reality, until he actually saw the Alliance alongside of him again. As a matter of fact, he did not strike until about thirty minutes after the Alliance had fired the last broadside and sailed away. The American frigate was out of gunshot when he surrendered, and going farther from him with every minute. Imagine what Jones would have done under similar circumstances! Indeed, we do not have to imagine what he would have done, for as it happened the Alliance had on two occasions fired full upon him, and he was actually in the dilemma which Pearson imagined he might fall into, and yet it only re-enforced his already resolute determination to continue the fight more fiercely than ever. A nice point this: with Pearson the Alliance was an imaginary danger, with Jones a real one! While the presence of the Alliance, therefore, explains in a measure Pearson's surrender, it does not enhance his reputation for dogged determination. The unheard-of resistance which he had met from the Richard, the persistence with which the attack was carried on, the apparently utterly unconquerable nature of his antagonist--of whose difficulties on the Richard he was not aware, for there was no evidence of faltering in the battle--the frightful attack he had received, and his isolation upon the deck filled with dead and dying men, broke his own power of resistance. There were two things beaten on that day--the Richard and Pearson; one might almost say three things: both ships and the captain of one. It is generally admitted, even by the English, that the result would have been the same if the Alliance had never appeared on the scene. No, it was a fair and square stand-up fight, and a fair and square defeat.[20] The conduct of Landais has presented a problem difficult of solution. It has been surmised, and upon the warrant of his own statement, that he would have thought it no harm if the Richard had struck to the Serapis, and he could have had the glory of recapturing her and then forcing the surrender of the English frigate; but whether he really meant by his dastardly conduct to compel this situation from which he trusted he could reap so much honor, is another story. Most of the historians have been unable to see anything in his actions but jealousy and treachery. The most eminent critic, however, who has treated of the battle[21] has thought his actions arose from an incapacity, coupled with a timidity amounting to cowardice, which utterly blinded his judgment; that he was desirous of doing something, and felt it incumbent upon him to take some part in the action and that his firing into the Richard was due to incompetency rather than to anything else. With all deference, it is difficult to agree with this proposition. The officers of the squadron, in a paper which was prepared less than a month after the action, bore conclusive testimony that while it is true that he was an incapable coward, he was, in addition, either a jealous traitor, or--and this is the only other supposition which will account for his action--that he was irresponsible, in short, insane. This is a conclusion to which his own officers afterward arrived, and which his subsequent career seems to bear out. At any rate, this is the most charitable explanation of his conduct which can be adopted. If he had been simply cowardly, he could have done some service by attacking the unprotected convoy, which was entirely at his mercy, and among which he could have easily taken some valuable prizes. It is stated to their credit that some of the officers of the Alliance remonstrated with Landais, and pointed out to him that he was attacking the wrong ship, and that some of his men refused to obey his orders to fire. There is but one other circumstance to which it is necessary to refer. All the plans of the battle which are extant, and all the descriptions which have been made, from Cooper to Maclay and Spears, show that the Richard passed ahead of the Serapis and was raked; and that the Serapis then ranged alongside to windward of the American and presently succeeded in crossing the Richard's bow and raking her a second time. Richard Dale's account, in Sherburne's Life of Paul Jones, written some forty-six years after the action, seems to bear out this idea. Jones himself, whose report is condensed and unfortunately wanting in detail, says: "Every method was practiced on both sides to gain an advantage and rake each other, and I must confess that the enemy's ship, being much more manageable than the Bon Homme Richard, gained thereby several times an advantageous situation, in spite of my best endeavors to prevent it." Nathaniel Fanning, midshipman of the maintop in the action, stated in his narrative, published in 1806, twenty-seven years later, that the Serapis raked the Richard several times. Notwithstanding this weight of apparent testimony, I must agree with Captain Mahan in his conclusion that the Serapis, until the ships were lashed together, engaged the Richard with her port battery only, and that the plan as given above is correct. In the first place, Jones' statement is too indefinite to base a conclusion upon unless clearly corroborated by other evidence. Dale, being in the batteries, where he could hardly see the maneuvers, and writing from memory after a lapse of many years, may well have been mistaken. Fanning's narrative is contradicted by the articles which he signed concerning the conduct of Landais, in October, 1779, in the Texel, so that his earliest statement is at variance with his final recollection, and Fanning is not very reliable at best. However, we might accept the statements of these men as decisive were it not for the fact that Pearson, whose report is very explicit indeed, makes no claim whatever to having succeeded in raking the Richard, though it would be so greatly to his credit if he had done so that it is hardly probable he would fail to state it. His account of the battle accords with the plan of the present work. Again, when the Serapis engaged the Richard in the final grapple, she had to blow off her starboard port shutters, which were therefore tightly closed. If she had been engaged to starboard (which would necessarily follow if she had been on the port side of the Richard at any time), the ports would have been opened.[22] This is not absolutely conclusive, because, of course, it would be possible that the ports might have been closed when the men were shifted to the other battery, but in the heat of the action such a measure would be so improbable as to be worthy of little consideration. But the most conclusive testimony to the fact that the Serapis was not on the port side of the Richard at any time is found in the charges which were signed by the officers concerning the conduct of Landais. Article 19 reads: "As the most dangerous shot which the Bon Homme Richard received under the water were under the larboard bow and quarter, they must have come from the Alliance, _for the Serapis was on the other side_."[23] Captain Mahan well sums it up: "As Landais' honor, if not his life, was at stake in these charges, it is not to be supposed that six officers (besides two French marine officers), four of whom were specially well situated for seeing, would have made this statement if the Serapis had at any time been in position to fire those shots." This consideration, therefore, seems to settle the question. Again, the maneuvers as they have been described in this volume are the simple and natural evolutions which, under the existing conditions of wind and weather and the relative positions of the two ships, would have been in all human probability carried out. The attempt to put the ships in the different positions of the commonly accepted plans involves a series of highly complicated and unnecessary evolutions (scarcely possible, in fact, in the very light breeze), which no commander would be apt to attempt in the heat of action unless most serious contingencies rendered them inevitable. CHAPTER XII. UPHOLDING AMERICAN HONOR IN THE TEXEL. After the sinking of the Richard, Jones turned his attention to the squadron. Those ships which had been in action were now ready for sea, so far, at least, as it was possible to make them, and it was necessary to make a safe port as soon as possible. He had now some five hundred English prisoners, including Captains Pearson and Piercy and their officers, in his possession. These equaled all the American seamen held captive by the English, and, with one of the main objects of his expedition in view, Jones earnestly desired to make a French port, in which case his prizes would be secure and he would be able to effect a proper exchange of prisoners. But the original destination of the squadron had been the Texel. It is evident that in sending the squadron into the Zuyder Zee Franklin shrewdly contemplated the possibility of so compromising Holland by the presence of the ships as to force a recognition from that important maritime and commercial power of the belligerency of the United States. This was the real purport of the orders. There was an ostensible reason, however, in the presence of a large fleet of merchant vessels in the Texel, which would be ready for sailing for France in October, and Jones' squadron could give them a safe convoy. The events of the cruise had brought about a somewhat different situation from that contemplated in the original orders, and Jones was undoubtedly within his rights in determining to enter Dunkirk, the most available French port; in which event the difficulties which afterward arose concerning the exchange of prisoners and the disposition of the prizes would never have presented themselves. In the latter case, however, the hand of Holland might not have been so promptly forced, and the recognition accorded this country would probably have been much longer delayed, although in the end it would have come. But the balance of advantage lay with Jones' choice of Dunkirk. For a week the ships beat up against contrary winds, endeavoring to make that port. Their position was most precarious. Sixteen sail, including several ships of the line, were seeking the audacious invaders, and they were likely to overhaul them at any time. The Frenchmen naturally grew nervous over the prospect. Finally, the captains, who had been remonstrating daily with Jones, refused to obey his orders any longer; and, the wind continuing unfavorable for France, they actually deserted the Serapis, running off to leeward in a mass and heading for the Texel. The officers of the American squadron were fully aware of the assigned destination, although the deep reasons for Franklin's subtle policy had probably not been communicated to them. In view of this unprecedented situation, which may be traced distinctly to the concordat, there was nothing left to Jones but to swallow the affront as best he might, and follow his unruly squadron. Landais had not yet been deposed from the command of the Alliance, because it would have probably required force to arrest him on the deck of his own ship, and an internecine conflict might have been precipitated in his command. On the 3d of October, having made a quick run of it, the squadron entered the Texel. From the mainland of the Dutch Republic, now the Kingdom of the Netherlands, the state of North Holland thrusts a bold wedge of land far to the northward, between the foaming surges of the German Ocean on the one hand, and the tempest-tossed waters of the Zuyder Zee on the other. Opposite the present mighty fortifications of Helder, justly considered the Gibraltar of the North, which terminate the peninsula, lies a deep and splendid channel, bounded on the north side by the island of Texel, from which the famous passage gets its name. Through this ocean gateway, from time immemorial, a splendid procession of gallant ships and hardy men have gone forth to discover new worlds, to found new countries, to open up new avenues of trade with distant empires, and to uphold the honor of the Orange flag in desperate battles on the sea. Through the pass sailed the first great Christian foreign missionary expedition of modern times, when in 1624 the Dutchmen carried the Gospel to the distant island of Formosa, the beautiful. Brederode and the wild beggars of the sea; Tromp, De Ruyter, van Heemskerk, De Winter, leading their fleets to battles which made their names famous, had plowed through the deep channel with their lumbering keels. Of smaller ships from these familiar shores, the little Half Moon, of Henry Hudson, and the pilgrim-laden Mayflower had taken their departure. But no bolder officer nor better seaman had ever made the passage than the little man on the deck of the battered Serapis on that raw October morning. It is a rather interesting coincidence that among the prizes of this cruise was one which bore the name of the Mayflower. As the cables of the ships tore through the hawse pipes when they dropped anchor, Jones may have imagined that his troubles were over. As a matter of fact, they had just begun, and his stay in the Texel was not the least arduous nor the least brilliant period in his life. His conduct in the trying circumstances in which he found himself was beyond reproach. The instant that he appeared, Sir Joseph Yorke, the able and influential Minister of England at The Hague, demanded that the States-General deliver the Serapis and the Scarborough to him and compel the return of the English prisoners held by Jones, and that the American "Pirate" should be ordered to leave the Texel immediately, which would, of course, result in the certain capture of his ships, for the English pursuing squadron appeared off the mouth of the channel almost immediately after Jones' entrance. Sir Joseph made the point--and it was a pretty one--that by the terms of past treaties prizes taken by ships whose commanders bore the commission of no recognized power or sovereign were to be returned to the English whenever they fell into the hands of Holland. This placed the States-General in a dilemma. Paul Jones would show no commission except that of America; indeed, he had no other. In Sir Joseph's mind the situation was this: The States-General would comply with the terms of the treaty or it would not. If it did, he would get possession of the ships and of Jones as well. If it did not, the logic of events would indicate that the States-General considered the commission which Paul Jones bore as being valid, in that it was issued by a sovereign power. This would be in effect a recognition of belligerency. In other words, the shrewd British diplomatist was endeavoring to force the hand of the States-General. To determine the position of Holland with regard to the revolted colonies of Great Britain was a matter of greater moment than to secure Paul Jones or to receive the two ships, the loss of which, except so far as it affronted the pride of England, was of no consequence whatever. The States-General, however, endeavored to evade the issue and postpone the decision, for, while their "High Mightinesses" refused to cause the ships to be given up, they ordered Jones to leave the harbor at once, and they earnestly disclaimed any intention of recognizing the revolted colonies. As a matter of fact, since there were two parties in the government of Holland, and two opinions on the subject, they could come to no more definite conclusion. Jones was intensely popular with the people, and the democratic opinion favored the immediate recognition of American independence, and protested against any arbitrary action toward him and his ships. The Prince of Orange and the aristocratic party took the contrary view, and they pressed it upon him as far as they dared. Realizing the precarious nature of his stay in Holland, Jones immediately set to work with his usual energy to refit the ships, especially the Serapis. Dispatching a full account of his cruise and his expedition to Franklin, he went in person to Amsterdam to facilitate his desire. A contemporary account states that he was dressed in an American naval uniform,[24] wearing on his head, instead of the usual cocked hat, a Scotch bonnet edged with gold lace. When he appeared in the exchange he received a popular ovation, which naturally greatly pleased him. However, he modestly strove to escape the overwhelming demonstrations of admiration and approval with which he was greeted, by retiring to a coffee room, but he was compelled to show himself again and again at the window in response to repeated demands from crowds of people assembled in the street who desired a sight of him. He was made the hero of song and story, and one of the ballads of the time, a rude, rollicking, drinking song, very popular among sailors, which celebrates his exploits, is sung to this day in the streets of Amsterdam.[25] So delighted were the Dutch with the humiliation he had inflicted upon their ancient enemy that some of the principal men of the nation, including the celebrated Baron van der Capellen, subsequently noted for his friendship for America (evidently not in harmony with the aristocratic party), entered into a correspondence with him, which must have been highly flattering to him, from the expressions of admiration and approval with which every letter of the baron's abounds. They desired to receive at first hand an account of his exploits. In response to this request Jones had his report to Dr. Franklin copied and sent to van der Capellen, together with other documents illustrative of his career, accompanied by the following letter: "On Board the Serapis at the Texel, "_October 19, 1779_. "My Lord: Human nature and America are under a very singular obligation to you for your patriotism and friendship, and I feel every grateful sentiment for your generous and polite letter. "Agreeable to your request I have the honour to inclose a copy of my letter to his Excellency Doctor Franklin, containing a particular account of my late expedition on the coasts of Britain and Ireland, by which you will see that I have already been praised far more than I have deserved; but I must at the same time beg leave to observe that by the other papers which I take the liberty to inclose (particularly the copy of my letter to the Countess of Selkirk, dated the day of my arrival at Brest from the Irish Sea), I hope you will be convinced that in the British prints I have been censured unjustly. I was, indeed, born in Britain, but I do not inherit the degenerate spirit of that fallen nation, which I at once lament and despise. It is far beneath me to reply to their hireling invectives. They are strangers to the inward approbation that greatly animates and rewards the man who draws his sword only in support of the dignity of freedom. "_America has been the country of my fond election from the age of thirteen, when I first saw it_.[26] I had the honour to hoist, with my own hands, the flag of freedom, the first time that it was displayed on the Delaware, and I have attended it with veneration ever since on the Ocean; I see it respected even here, in spite of the pitiful Sir Joseph, and I ardently wish and hope very soon to exchange a salute with the flag of this Republick. Let but the two Republicks join hands, and they will give Peace to the World." Among the documents transmitted was the famous letter to Lady Selkirk, of which sententious epistle he evidently remained inordinately proud. In acknowledging this courtesy van der Capellen wrote as follows: "The perusal of the letters with which you have favoured me has done the very same effect upon me that his Excell. Dr. Franklin expected they would do on the Countess of Selkirk, as you are represented in some of our Newspapers as a rough, unpolished sailor, not only, but even as a man of little understanding and no morals and sensibility, and as I think the 4 papers extremely fit to destroy these malicious aspersions, I must take the liberty of asking your permission to publish them in our gazettes. The public will soon make this very just conclusion that the man honoured by the friendship and intimacy of a Franklin can not be such as you have been represented.[27] There are three points on which you will oblige me by giving some elucidation, 1st. whether you have any obligations to Lord Selkirk? 2d. whether Lady Selkirk has accepted your generous offer? 3d. whether you have a commission of France besides that of the Congress? 'Tis not a vain curiosity that incites me to be so importunate; no, sir, the two first questions are often repeated to me by your enemies, or, at least, by prejudiced people; and as to the last, a relative of mine, a known friend of America, has addressed himself to me for information on that subject, which he will be glad to have before the States of his province, of which he is a member (but not yet, as I am, expelled the house), be assembled. "You will greatly oblige me by sending me as soon as possible such information as you will think proper to grant. "You may rely on our discretion; we can keep a secret, too. I am in a great hurry, with the most perfect esteem ..." The baron's statement gives us a contemporary opinion--one of entire approbation, by the way--of the letter to Lady Selkirk, and it shows us that our great-grandfathers looked at things with different eyes from ours. In reply, Jones dispatched the following letter a month later: "Alliance, Texel, _November 29, 1779_. "My Lord: Since I had the honour to receive your second esteemed letter I have unexpectedly had occasion to revisit Amsterdam; and, having changed ships since my return to the Texel, I have by some accident or neglect lost or mislaid your letter. I remember, however, the questions it contained: 1st, whether I ever had any obligation to Lord Selkirk? 2dly, whether he accepted my offer? and 3dly, whether I have a French commission? I answer: I have never had any obligation to Lord Selkirk, except for his good opinion, nor does know me nor mine except by character. Lord Selkirk wrote me an answer to my letter to the Countess, but the Ministry detained it in the general post office in London for a long time, and then returned it to the author, who afterward wrote to a friend of his (M. Alexander), an acquaintance of Doctor Franklin's then at Paris, giving him an account of the fate of his letter to me & desiring him to acquaint his Excellency and myself that if the plate was restored by Congress or by any public Body he would accept it, but that he would not think of accepting it from my private generosity. The plate has, however, been bought, agreeable to my letter to the Countess, and now lays in France at her disposal. As to the 3rd article, _I never bore nor acted under any other commission than what I have received from the Congress of the United States of America_.[28] "I am much obliged to you, my Lord, for the honour you do me by proposing to publish the papers I sent you in my last, but it is an honour which I must decline, because I can not publish my letter to a lady without asking and obtaining the lady's consent, and because I have a very modest opinion of my writings, being conscious that they are not of sufficient value to claim the notice of the public. I assure you, my Lord, it has given me much concern to see an extract of my rough journal in print, and that, too, under the disadvantage of a translation. That mistaken kindness of a friend will make me cautious how I communicate my papers. "I have the honour to be, my Lord, with great esteem and respect, "Your most obliged, "And very humble servant." The nice delicacy of his conduct in refusing to permit the publication of a letter to a lady without her consent goes very far toward redeeming the absurdity of the letter itself. While this interesting correspondence was going on, events of great moment were transpiring. In the first place, Captain Pearson was protesting against his detention as a prisoner in the most vehement way, and otherwise behaving in a very ill-bred manner. When the commodore offered to return him his plate, linen, and other property, which had been taken from the Serapis, he refused to accept it from Jones; but he intimated that he would receive it from the hand of Captain de Cottineau! Jones had the magnanimity to overlook this petty quibbling, and returned the property through the desired channel. Pearson, like Jones, was of humble origin; but, unlike Jones, he never seems to have risen above it. On October 19th he addressed the following note to Jones: "Pallas, Tuesday Evening, _October 19, 1779_. "_Captain Jones, Serapis_. "Captain Pearson presents his compliments to Captain Jones, and is sorry to find himself so little attended to in his present situation as not to have been favoured with either a _Call_ or a line from Captain Jones since his return from Amsterdam. Captain P ... is sorry to say that he can not look upon such behaviour in any other light than as a breach of that _Civility_, which his Rank, as well as behaviour on all occasions entitles to, he at the same time wishes to be informed by Captain Jones whether any _Steps has_ been taken toward the enlargement or exchange of him, his officers and people, or what is intended to be done with them. As he can not help thinking it a very unprecedented circumstance their being _keeped_ here as prisoners on board of ship, being so long in a neutral port." He received in return this decided and definite reply: "Serapis, Wednesday, _October 20, 1779_. "_Captain Pearson_. "Sir: As you have not been prevented from corresponding with your friends, and particularly with the English ambassador at The Hague, I could not suppose you to be unacquainted with his memorial, of the 8th, to the States-General, and therefore I thought it fruitless to pursue the negotiation for the exchange of the prisoners of war now in our hands. "I wished to avoid any painful altercation with you on that subject; I was persuaded that you had been in the highest degree sensible that my behaviour 'toward you had been far from a breach of civility.' This charge is not, Sir, a civil return for the polite hospitality and disinterested attentions which you have hitherto experienced. "I know not what difference of respect is due to 'Rank,' between your service and ours; I suppose, however, the difference must be thought _very great_ in England, since I am informed that Captain Cunningham, of equal denomination, and who bears a senior rank in the service of America, than yours in the service of England, is now confined at Plymouth _in a dungeon, and in fetters_. "Humanity, which hath hitherto superseded the plea of retaliation in American breasts, has induced me (notwithstanding the procedure of Sir Joseph Yorke) to seek after permission to land the dangerously wounded, as well prisoners as Americans, to be supported and cured at the expense of our Continent. The permission of the Government has been obtained, but the magistrates continue to make objections. I shall not discontinue my application. I am ready to adopt any means that you may propose for their preservation and recovery, and in the meantime we shall continue to treat them with the utmost care and attention, equally, as you know, to the treatment of our people of the same rank. "As it is possible that you have not yet seen the memorial of your ambassador to the States-General, I enclose a paper which contains a copy, and I believe he has since written what, in the opinion of good men, will do still less honour to his pen. "I can not conclude without informing you that unless Captain Cunningham is immediately better treated in England, I expect orders in consequence from His Excellency Dr. Franklin; therefore, I beseech you, Sir, to interfere." The States-General having refused to consent to the restoration of the ships and the surrender of the prisoners, Paul Jones went to The Hague for the purpose of pleading his own cause; and there, through the representations of the French ambassador, the Duc de la Vauguyon, received permission from their High Mightinesses to land the more dangerously wounded among his prisoners and crew as well, numbering over one hundred, in order that he might better care for them and establish them in more comfortable quarters than the crowded ships permitted. From motives of humanity, in view of the condition of the prisoners, Sir Joseph Yorke acquiesced in this arrangement. It was first proposed that Jones should land them and establish a hospital at Helder; but the magistrates of that town objecting to the proposition, a fort on the Texel was assigned to him, of which the entire charge was committed to him. Colonel de Weibert, with a sufficient force to garrison the works, was placed in command of the fort. Meanwhile, the charges against Landais, having been formulated and signed, were dispatched to Franklin, who, with the consent of the French Government, ordered him to resign the command of the Alliance and repair immediately to Paris. Before he left the Texel the erratic Frenchman compelled Captain de Cottineau to accord him the honor of a duel. As Landais was an expert swordsman, he succeeded in severely wounding his less skillful but far more worthy antagonist. Elated by this exploit, the mad Frenchman sent Jones a challenge also. In reply to Landais' note, the commodore, Marius-like, promptly dispatched men to arrest him; but Landais got wind of the attempt and hastened to escape, taking up his departure for Paris. During the stay in the Texel Jones succeeded in effecting the exchange of Captain Pearson for Captain Gustavus Cunningham, whom he had at last the pleasure of receiving upon his own ship.[29] Meanwhile, with true British persistence, Sir Joseph kept at the States-General, and it in turn pressed upon Jones, who imperturbably passed the matter on to the French ambassador and Dr. Franklin. On the 12th of November, to relieve a situation which had become well-nigh insupportable, the French Government, with the consent of Franklin, directed that the command of the Serapis should be given to Captain de Cottineau, and that all the other vessels, except the Alliance, to which the French had no claim, should hoist the French flag, and that the Americans should be sent on board the Alliance, which should be turned over to Paul Jones. To his everlasting regret, Jones had to obey the heartbreaking order, and in one moment found himself deprived of his command and his prizes taken from him. It was a crushing blow, but he had no option save to bear it as best he could. The exchange was effected at night, and the next morning, when the Dutch admiral sent his flag captain on board the Serapis to attempt his usual bullying, he was surprised to see the French flag flying from her gaff end, and to be informed that she was now the property of France, as were all the other ships except the Alliance. Proceedings at once, therefore, fell to the ground as regarded all the ships but the American frigate. There was no possible reason for giving up the ships of the French king to the British Government, so Sir Joseph Yorke necessarily, although with a very bad grace, dropped the matter, and a short time after the French ships and the prizes sailed with the merchant fleet under a strong Dutch convoy for France, where they all arrived safely. Yorke persisted, however, in attempting to secure the person of Jones, it is gravely alleged, through the efforts of private individuals, kidnappers or bravos. At any rate, he redoubled his representations regarding the Alliance, and his efforts to force the departure of the ship that she might fall into the hands of the waiting English. The Serapis had been thoroughly overhauled and refitted, and the other ships, with the exception of the Alliance, were in good shape. By his unsailorly antics and foolish arrangements Landais had almost destroyed the qualities of that noble frigate. She was in a dreadful condition. Thirteen Dutch men-of-war, all of them two-deckers, or line of battle ships, had assembled in the Texel to enforce the orders of the States-General, which, on the 17th of November, by a specific resolution directed the Admiralty Board at Amsterdam to command Jones to let no opportunity escape to put to sea, as the approach of winter might make his departure inconvenient or impossible if he delayed longer. Vice-Admiral Rhynst, who had succeeded Captain Rimersina (like van der Capellen, another friend of the United States) in the command of the Dutch fleet, was peremptorily ordered to permit no delay which was not unavoidable in the carrying out of these orders. He was instructed and empowered to use force if necessary. Outside the harbor there was a constantly increasing number of English ships, so that Jones found himself "between the devil and the deep sea." He was not to be intimidated, however, and he absolutely refused to go out at all until he was ready, sending Admiral Rhynst a rather boastful letter to the effect that he could not engage more than three times his force with any hope of success, but were the odds any less he should go out at once. M. Dumas, the French commissary and the agent of the United States at The Hague, had been directed to proceed to the Texel and do what he could for Jones, and an interesting correspondence was carried on between them and the French ambassador on the subject of Jones' departure. With clear-eyed diplomacy and stubborn resolution the American held on; go he would not until he was ready! It was, no doubt, very exasperating to the Dutch, and they did everything possible save using force to get rid of their unwelcome visitor. The Alliance, as has been stated, was in an unseaworthy condition. An old-fashioned sailing vessel was as complex and delicate a thing as a woman; rude, brutal, and unskillful handling had the same effect on both of them--it spoiled them. Jones at once began the weary work of refitting her so far as his limited resources provided. The powder which had been saved from the wreck of the Richard replaced the spoiled ammunition of the Alliance. Two cables had been borrowed from the Serapis, and such other steps taken as were possible. When the squadron was turned over to France the prisoners, except those already exchanged by agreement between Jones and Pearson, also were directed to be surrendered to the French Government, who immediately exchanged them with the English for an equal number of French prisoners, promising Franklin that they would presently exchange a corresponding number of French prisoners for the Americans. But Jones resolutely refused to give up all of his prisoners. In spite of protests and orders he re-embarked the hundred men who had been recovering from their wounds in the fort on the Texel, and taking all the Americans of the squadron, so that the Alliance was heavily overmanned, he made his preparations to get away. At this time the Duc de la Vauguyon, by the direction of De Sartine, made Jones the offer of a French naval letter of marque, which might have protected the captain of the Alliance on her proposed homeward passage, and have removed all legal cause of objection as to her stay in the Texel. To this proposition, which he considered insulting, Jones made the following characteristic answer: "My Lord: Perhaps there are many men in the world who would esteem as an honour the commission that I have this day refused. My rank from the beginning knew no superior in the marine of America; how then must I be humbled were I to accept a letter of marque! I should, my lord, esteem myself inexcusable were I to accept even a commission of equal or superior denomination to that I bear, unless I were previously authorised by Congress, or some other competent authority in Europe. And I must tell you that, on my arrival at Brest from the Irish Channel, Count D'Orvilliers offered to procure for me from court a commission of '_Capitaine de Vaisseau_,' which I did not then accept for the same reason, although the war between France and England was not then begun, and of course the commission of France would have protected me from an enemy of superior force. "It is a matter of the highest astonishment to me that, after so many compliments and fair professions, the court should offer the present insult to my understanding, and suppose me capable of disgracing my present commission. I confess that I never merited all the praise bestowed on my past conduct, but I also feel that I have far less merited such a reward. Where profession and practice are so opposite I am no longer weak enough to form a wrong conclusion. _They may think as they please of me; for where I can not continue my esteem, praise or censure from any man is to me a matter of indifference_.[30] "I am much obliged to them, however, for having at last fairly opened my eyes, and enabled me to discover truth from falsehood. "The prisoners shall be delivered agreeable to the orders which you have done me the honour to send me from his excellency the American ambassador in France. "I will also with great pleasure not only permit a part of my seamen to go on board the ships under your excellency's orders, but I will also do my utmost to prevail with them to embark freely; and if I can now or hereafter, by any other honourable means, facilitate the success or the honour of his Majesty's arms, I pledge myself to you as his ambassador, that none of his own subjects would bleed in his cause with greater freedom than myself, an American. "It gives me the more pain, my lord, to write this letter, because the court has enjoined you to prepare what would destroy my peace of mind, and my future veracity in the opinion of the world. "When, _with the consent of the court_, and by order of the American ambassador, I gave American commissions to French officers, I did not fill up those commissions to command privateers, nor even for a rank _equal_ to that of their commissions in the marine of France. They were promoted to rank _far superior_. And why? Not from personal friendship, nor from my knowledge of their services and abilities (the men and their characters being entire strangers to me), but from the respect which I believed America would wish to show for the service of France. "While I remained eight months seemingly forgot by the court at Brest, many commissions, such as that in question, were offered to me; and I believe (when I am in pursuit of _plunder_) I can still obtain such an one without application to court. "I hope, my lord, that my behaviour through life will ever entitle me to the continuance of your good wishes and opinion, and that you will take occasion to make mention of the warm and personal affection with which my heart is impressed toward his Majesty." In no other letter among the many which I have examined does Jones appear in so brilliant and successful a light. His high-souled decision, and his dignified but explicit way of conveying it, alike do him the greatest credit. In the hands of such a man, not only his own honor but that of his country would be perfectly safe always. As usual, on the 16th of December, he inclosed a copy of his letter to Franklin with the following original comment: "I hope," he said, "that the within copy of my letter to the Duc de la Vauguyon will meet your approbation, for I am persuaded that it never could be your intention or wish that I should be made the tool of any great r---- whatever; or that the commission of America should be overlaid by the dirty piece of parchment which I have thus rejected! They have played upon my good humour too long already, but the spell is at last dissolved. They would play me off with assurance of the personal and particular esteem of the king, to induce me to do what would render me contemptible even in the eyes of my own servants! Accustomed to speak untruths themselves, they would also have me to give under my hand that I am a liar and a scoundrel. They are mistaken, and I would tell them what you did to your naughty servant. 'We have too contemptible an opinion of one another's understanding to live together.' I could tell them, too, that if M---- de C---- had not taken such safe precautions to keep me honest by means of his famous _concordat_, and to support me by so many able colleagues, these great men would not have been reduced to such mean shifts; for the prisoners could have been landed at Dunkirk the day that I entered the Texel, and I could have brought in double the numbers." After annoying him with daily injunctions and commands, on the 16th of December Vice Admiral Rhynst finally commanded Jones to come on board his flagship and report his intentions. Jones promptly refused to obey this astonishing order, telling the Dutchman that he had no right to order him anywhere. Whereupon the vice admiral wrote to him as follows: "I desire you by this present letter to inform me how I must consider the Alliance which you are on board of: whether as a French or American vessel. If the first, I expect you to cause his Majesty's commission to be shown to me, and that you display the French flag and pendant, announcing it by discharging a gun. If the second, I expect you to omit no occasion of departing, according to the orders of their High Mightinesses." Jones had passed beyond the arguing point, and treated this communication with contempt. He rightly judged that the Dutch would not resort to force in the end, and he refused to go out to certain capture; indeed, he would not move until he was ready and a fair chance of escape presented itself. When the French Commissary of Marine at Amsterdam, the Chevalier de Lironcourt, saw Rhynst's communication, which Jones sent to him, he suggested that Jones might waive the point and display French colors on his ship, disclaiming, at the same time, any ulterior motive not in consonance with the dignity of the commander, on the part of himself or his government, in this proposition. But Jones was not to be moved from the stand he had taken. The man of the world was becoming the dauntless citizen of the United States at last. He curtly told the Dutch admiral that he had no orders to hoist any other flag than the American, and that it only should fly from the gaff of his ship. He also told him that as soon as a pilot would undertake to carry out his ship he would leave. But his most significant action was to state emphatically to the vice admiral's flag captain, who came aboard the Alliance for an answer to his note of the 16th, that he was tired of the annoyances, insults, and threats which had been directed at him daily, and that they must be stopped in future, as he would receive no more communications from the vice admiral. He also requested the flag captain to say to his superior officer that, although the Dutch flagship mounted sixty-four guns, if she and the Alliance were at sea together the vice admiral's conduct toward him would not have been tolerated for a moment. I have no doubt that Jones meant exactly what he said, and I think the vice admiral was lucky in not being required to test the declaration. From this time until his departure no communications of any sort were received by Jones from his baffled and silenced tormentor. He had done all that mortal man could do to retain his prizes, to protract his stay in Dutch waters, to commit Holland to the side of the United States, to effect an exchange of prisoners, and to maintain the honor of the American flag. In doing this, on all sides he had been harassed and insulted beyond measure. It was therefore some consolation to him to receive on the 21st the following note of explanation and apology from De la Vauguyon: "_December 21, 1779_. "I perceive with pain, my dear commodore, that you do not view your situation in the right light; and I can assure you that the ministers of the king have no intention to cause you the least disagreeable feeling, as the honourable testimonials of the esteem of his majesty, which I send you, ought to convince you. I hope you will not doubt the sincere desire with which you have inspired me to procure you every satisfaction you may merit. It can not fail to incite you to give new proofs of your zeal for the common cause of France and America. I flatter myself to renew, before long, the occasion and to procure you the means to increase still more the glory you have already acquired. I am already occupied with all the interest I promised you; and if my views are realized, as I have every reason to believe, you will be at all events perfectly content; but I must pray you not to hinder any project by delivering yourself to the expressions of those strong sensations to which you appear to give way, and for which there is really no foundation. You appear to possess full confidence in the justice and kindness of the king; rely also upon the same sentiments on the part of his ministers." To this letter Jones sent the following reply; he was a generous man, who bore no malice: "Alliance, Texel, _December 25, 1779_. "_The Duke de Vauguyon_. "My Lord: I have not a heart of stone, but I am duly sensible of the obligations conferred on me by the very kind and affectionate letter that you have done me the honour to write me the 21st current. "Were I to form my opinion of the ministry from the treatment that I experienced while at Brest, or from their want of confidence in me afterward, exclusive of what has taken place since I had the misfortune to enter this port, I will appeal to your Excellency as a man of candour and ingenuousness, whether I ought to desire to prolong a connection that has made me so unhappy, and wherein I have given so little satisfaction? M. de Chev. de Lironcourt has lately made me reproaches on account of the expense that he says France has been at _to give me reputation_, in preference to twenty captains of the royal navy, better qualified than myself, and who, each of them, solicited for the command that was lately given to me! This, I confess, is quite new and indeed surprising to me, and had I known it before I left France I certainly should have resigned in favour of the twenty men of superior merit. I do not, however, think that his first assertion is true, for the ministry must be unworthy of their places were they capable of squandering the public money merely to give an individual reputation! and as to the second, I fancy the court will not thank him for having given me this information, whether true or false. I may add here that, with a force so ill-composed, and with powers so limited, I ran ten chances of ruin and dishonour for one of gaining reputation; and had not the plea of humanity in favour of the unfortunate Americans in English dungeons superseded all considerations of self, I faithfully assure you, my lord, that I would not have proceeded under such circumstances from Groix. I do not imbibe hasty prejudices against any individual, but when many and repeated circumstances, conspiring in one point, have inspired me with disesteem toward any person, I must see very convincing proofs of reformation in such person before my heart can beat again with affection in his favour; for the mind is free, and can be bound only by kind treatment. "You do me great honour, as well as justice, my lord, by observing that no satisfaction can be more precious to me than by giving new proofs of my zeal for the common cause of France and America; and the interest that you take to facilitate the means of my giving such proofs by essential services, claims my best thanks. _I hope I shall not, through any imprudence of mine, render ineffectual any noble design that may be in contemplation for the general good._[31] Whenever that object is mentioned, my private concerns are out of the question, and where I can not speak exactly what I could wish with respect to my private satisfaction, I promise you in the meantime to observe a prudent silence. "With a deep sense of your generous sentiments of personal regard toward me, and with the most sincere wishes to merit that regard by my conduct through life." The following extract from a letter to Robert Morris well indicates how his treatment by the French ambassador rankled: "By the within despatches for Congress I am persuaded you will observe with pleasure that my connection with a court is at an end, and that my prospect of returning to America approaches. The great seem to wish only to be concerned with tools, who dare not speak or write truth. I am not sorry that my connection with them is at an end. In the course of that connection I ran ten chances of ruin and dishonour for one of reputation; and all the honours or profit that France could bestow should not tempt me again to undertake the same service with an armament, equally ill composed, and with powers equally limited. It affords me the most exalted pleasure to reflect that, when I return to America, I can say that _I have served in Europe at my own expense, and without the fee or reward of a court_,[32] When the prisoners we have taken are safely lodged in France I shall have no further business in Europe, as the liberty of our fellow citizens who now suffer in English prisons will then be secured; and I shall hope hereafter to be usefully employed under the immediate direction of the Congress." It is a remarkable thing that, during the perplexities and harassing incidents of his stay in the Texel, with the constant demands made upon him in every direction, the difficulties with which he had to cope, the responsibilities he assumed, the problems he had to solve, and the dangers grappled with, he found time to carry on such a voluminous and extraordinary correspondence as has been preserved. Among other documents he drew up a long memorial to Congress recounting his career and public services to date, which is of much service to those who strive to solve the enigma of his complex life and character. The tendency to lionize a hero was as prevalent then as now, and Jones was compelled by the exigencies of his situation to refuse many invitations of a social nature at Amsterdam and The Hague. "Duty," he says, "must take precedence of pleasure. I must wait a more favourable opportunity to kiss the hands of the fair." Certain young impressionable misses, after the custom of the day, indited poetical effusions to him. In the hurry and rush of business he could only find time in his replies to deplore the fact that so much was expected from him that he could not respond in rhyme to these metrical communications. CHAPTER XIII. THE ESCAPE OF THE ALLIANCE. Christmas day passed gloomily enough, I imagine, for the Americans on the Alliance. There had been opportunities, of course, when it would have been possible for Jones to have made the mouth of the harbor, but his capture would have been inevitable. So, on one pretext or another, he delayed until the night of the 27th of December, when he weighed anchor and dropped down to the mouth of the Texel. Early the next morning in a howling gale he dashed for the sea. On the same day he sent the following note back to Dumas, and merrily proceeded on his way: "I am here, my dear sir, with a good wind at east, and under my best American colours; so far you have your wish. What may be the event of this critical moment I know not; I am not, however, without good hopes. Through the ignorance or drunkenness of the old pilot the Alliance last night got foul of a Dutch merchant ship, and I believe the Dutchmen cut our cable. We lost the best bower anchor, and the ship was brought up with the sheet anchor so near the shore that this morning I have been obliged to cut the cable in order to get clear of the shore, and that I might not lose this opportunity of escaping from purgatory." Though he had escaped from the Texel, his situation was one of extreme peril. It is claimed that no less than forty sail were on the lookout for him in the English Channel; and, besides those specifically detailed for the purpose, there were a number of ships and at least two great fleets at anchor in these narrow waters, which he would have to pass. I suppose that never before had so many vessels been on the lookout for a single ship as in this instance. It never seems to have occurred to the blockading ships that Jones would attempt to pass down the Channel; his safest course from the point of view of the ordinary man would have been through the North Sea and around Scotland and Ireland. But Jones was not an ordinary man, though the English refused to see the fact. Consequently, his bold course took them by surprise, and, as usual, by choosing apparently the most dangerous way he escaped. And the way of it was this: By the exercise of his usual seamanship Jones managed to hug the Flemish banks so closely that he passed to windward of the British blockading ships, which were driven to the northward by the same gale of which he had taken advantage. The wind came strongly from the east, and under a great press of canvas the Alliance staggered away toward the south, keeping as close as possible to the weather shore until all danger from the immediate blockading fleet was avoided. Then Jones ran for the middle of the Channel, and the next day the Alliance passed through the straits of Dover and ran close to the Goodwin Sands, passing in full view of a large English fleet anchored in the Downs only three miles to leeward. On the day after, the 29th, the Alliance flew by the Isle of Wight, running near enough to take a good look at another fleet at Spithead. On the 1st of January Jones was out of the Channel, having passed in sight of, and almost in range, at different times in this bold dash for freedom, of several British ships of the line, just out of gunshot to leeward. During all this time he had not ceased to fly the American flag. I do not know of a more splendid piece of sea bravado than this dash of the Alliance from the Texel. The daring and gallantry of the man at first seemed to have led him into injudicious and dangerous situations when he took the Alliance so close to the English coast and the British fleets; but his effrontery was governed by that sound and practical sense which ever distinguished his conduct from mere unthinking recklessness, for no one would ever imagine that the escaping ship would take such a course, and those vessels on the lookout for him would probably be found where a less subtle commander would have endeavored to pass--off the Flemish coast and near the French shore, for instance. Be that as it may, the little Alliance, with her Stars and Stripes flapping defiantly in the great breeze in the face of the overmastering English ships, running the gantlet of her enemies, is a picture we love to think upon. The ship was in a critical condition. Damages which she had incurred in her voyage from Boston to France were still unrepaired. Her trim had been altered for the worse by Landais' blunders, and the improper stowage of the ballast had dangerously strained her and greatly diminished her speed, which had originally been very high. There was no way these things could have been temporarily repaired in the Texel; in fact, but little could be done until the vessel reached France. Owing to the unsanitary regimen of Landais, disease had broken out at different times, and the ship had become so dirty that nothing short of a thorough disinfection would render her safe for her crew. She was much overcrowded with men, all actually or professedly American, and carried a hundred prisoners as well. There were two sets of officers on board--those originally attached to her and the officers of the Richard. Jealousy and bickerings between the two crews were prevalent. Naturally, they had no love for each other. The officers and men of the Richard could not forget the conduct of those on the Alliance, and they looked upon them with hatred and contempt. Sailorlike, the men of the Alliance reciprocated that feeling. It was the desire of every one, except Jones and a few others, to get to France at once, but the commodore wished to return with more prizes; so he bore away to the south and west, seeking for ships, impressing upon his discontented men that the Alliance was equal to anything under a fifty-gun ship! He was not fortunate on this occasion, however, and finally, to avoid a threatened gale, he ran into the port of Corunna in Spain, on the 16th of January, 1780, where he was kindly received and hospitably entertained. During this cruise, in spite of the responsibilities of his position, he found time to compose the following verses in reply to a similar communication which he had received from the daughter of M. Dumas (it will be remembered that he deplored his inability in the Texel to find time for his present occupation): "Were I, Paul Jones, dear maid, 'the king of sea,' I find such merit in thy virgin song, A coral crown with bays I'd give to thee, A car which on the waves should smoothly glide along; The Nereides all about thy side should wait, And gladly sing in triumph of thy state, 'Vivat! vivat! the happy virgin Muse! Of liberty the friend, who tyrant power pursues!' "Or, happier lot! Were fair Columbia free From British tyranny, and youth still mine, I'd tell a tender tale to one like thee With artless looks and breast as pure as thine. If she approved my flame, distrust apart, Like faithful turtles, we'd have but one heart; Together, then, we'd tune the silver lyre, As love or sacred freedom should our lays inspire. "But since, alas! the rage of war prevails, And cruel Britons desolate our land, For freedom still I spread my willing sails, My unsheath'd sword my injured country shall command. Go on, bright maid! the Muses all attend Genius like thine, and wish to be its friend. Trust me, although conveyed through this poor shift, My New Year's thoughts are grateful for thy gift." I have read worse poetry than this, also better, but it is very creditable to the sailor. If the reader has a low opinion of it, let him essay some verse-writing himself.[33] While at Corunna, the ship was careened and her bottom scraped as far as possible without docking her, and, having procured an anchor to take the place of the two lost in the Texel, Jones prepared to set forth once more. The 28th of January was fixed for his departure, but the discontent among the crew reached such a pitch that they positively refused to weigh anchor unless they received at least a portion of their pay or prize money. Nothing had been paid them from the time the ships had been put in commission until they reached the Texel. There Jones had received from Amsterdam a small sum of money, from which he advanced five ducats to each of the officers and one to each of the men. The amount, compared to their dues and needs, was so insignificant that many of the men threw the money into the sea in disgust--a very foolish but extremely sailorlike action. There were many patriotic men on these ships who merit the approbation and deserve the gratitude of their country. They had shown, especially those belonging to the Richard, a most desperate courage in most trying scenes. They had performed services upon which no monetary value could be placed, and had subjected themselves to dangers which no mere pecuniary consideration could have tempted them to face. It may at first, therefore, seem surprising that they should have so resolutely demanded their pay and prize money, even to the extent of mutinying for it; but it is a common experience that men who will freely offer themselves for the most dangerous undertakings, and who really are actuated by the strongest kind of patriotism, will quarrel and rebel, and even fight, for the petty amounts promised them by way of wages, which in themselves neither could tempt them to, nor repay them for, the sacrifices they had cheerfully undergone. Frankly, I have the greatest sympathy with the point of view of the unpaid soldiers or sailors of the past, and I quite understand their demands and complaints under such circumstances. Perhaps there is an association of ideas between fighting for the liberties of one's country and demanding one's dues. Both are a revolt against injustice and oppression. The mind of the common sailor, especially of that day, was not calculated to draw nice distinctions, and he could see little difference between fighting for liberty and demanding that the country whose independence he periled his life to establish should show the small appreciation of his devotion involved in paying his scanty wages and not withholding his lawful prize money. Jones struggled for rank, station, reputation, opportunity; these men could aspire to no higher station than they already filled, and their corresponding effort was for the money justly due them. The Richard's men had lost practically everything except the clothes they stood in when their ship went down, and their personal needs were necessarily very great. The original crew of the Alliance were under the impression that Jones had reserved from the small sum he had received at Amsterdam a considerable portion for himself. There is not the slightest evidence to warrant this supposition. The commodore was the most prodigal and generous of men, and his whole career evidences his entire willingness to devote his own personal property to the welfare and wages of his men. He finally persuaded the crew to get under way by promising to run direct to L'Orient, where he hoped they would undoubtedly receive their prize money. With this understanding the crew consented to work the ship to that point, and their departure was accordingly taken on the 28th. When the vessel was fairly at sea, however, Jones summoned the officers to the cabin and proposed that they should cruise two or three weeks in those waters before making their promised port. I am afraid that the commodore allowed the possibility of taking some valuable prizes and perhaps another British frigate to incline him to break his promise to his men. His interview in his cabin with his officers was an interesting one. With all the eloquence of which he was a master--and he was able to speak convincingly and well on congenial subjects--he placed before them the possibilities presented, appealed to their patriotism, their love of fame, and as a last resort pointed out the further monetary advantage of another rich prize--Iago's argument! If they were successful in taking another frigate they would shed still greater luster upon their names, and put money in their pockets. The officers, however, bluntly refused to be persuaded. They emphasized the mutinous and discontented state of the crews, who had only sailed under Jones' positive promise to take them immediately to L'Orient; pointed out that many of the men had not proper clothing with which to endure the severe winter weather, and that they themselves were in a destitute condition. Their natural reluctance to fall in with his plans infuriated Jones. Rising from the chair upon which he had been sitting, with an emphatic stamp of his foot he dismissed them with a sneering contempt in the following words: "I do not want your advice, neither did I send for you to comply with your wishes, but only by way of paying you a compliment, which was more than you deserve by your opposition. Therefore, you know my mind; go to your duty, each one of you, and let me hear no more grumbling!" The Alliance cruised for some days to the westward of Cape Finisterre, but, as the quarreling between the two crews ran higher than ever, and as Jones had failed to keep his promise, thus adding to their discontent, when they fell in with the American ship Livingstone, laden with a valuable cargo of tobacco, Jones gave over his attempt, and decided to convoy her to L'Orient, where he arrived on the 10th of February, 1780. That he should gravely have contemplated action with a British frigate with his ill-conditioned ship and mutinous crew shows the confidence he felt in his own ability. I have no doubt that, unprepared as she was, if the Alliance had fallen in with an English ship Jones would have been able to persuade his men to action, and with anything like an equal force the results would have been satisfactory. CHAPTER XIV. HONORS AND REWARDS--QUARREL WITH LANDAIS--RELINQUISHES THE ALLIANCE. The tremendous nervous strain which Jones had undergone, the constant labor and exposure necessitated by the circumstances of his hard cruising and fighting, and the recent exposure in the severe winter weather had broken down his health. His spirit had outpaced his body, and in a very ill and weak condition, with his eyes so inflamed that he was almost blinded, he went on shore in search of rest. Meanwhile preparations were made thoroughly to overhaul the Alliance and load her with a large quantity of valuable and much-needed military supplies which had been purchased for the army of the United States, among them the battery which had been cast for the Bon Homme Richard, which had arrived after her departure. Hard by the Alliance in the harbor lay the handsome Serapis. With perfectly natural feelings Jones longed to get possession of her again. He wrote immediately to Franklin, detailing the repairs necessary to put the Alliance in shape, which were very extensive and correspondingly expensive, and asked that he might have leave to sheath the Alliance with copper, and that the Serapis might be purchased and turned over to him. He hoped that the repairs to the Alliance might be made by the French Government, perhaps that they would also give him the Serapis. As the condition of the Alliance had been justly attributed by Jones to the negligence and incompetence of Landais, and not to any accident of the cruise under the auspices of France, there did not seem to be any good reason for having the ship repaired at the expense of the French Government. Franklin stated that the whole expense would have to fall upon him, and begged him in touching words to be as economical as possible, as his financial resources, as always, were limited. For the same reason it was impossible to secure the Serapis. He says: "I therefore beg you would have mercy on me; put me to as little charge as possible, and take nothing that you can possibly do without. As to sheathing with copper, it is totally out of the question. I am not authorized to do it if I had money; and I have not money for it if I had orders." As the demand in America for the military supplies which Franklin had procured was pressing, Jones was ordered to hasten the repairs to the Alliance. In spite of Franklin's strict injunction to economize, Jones proceeded to overhaul, refit, and remodel entirely the frigate in accordance with his ideas and experience. As his ideas were excellent and his experience had been ample, when the repairs had been completed they left nothing to be desired. But the bills were very heavy. Franklin protested, but paid. As a matter of fact, it must be admitted Jones did not stint himself when it came to outfitting a ship--or anything else, for that matter. His experience with the Ranger, the Richard, and the Alliance had naturally disgusted him with inadequately provided ships of war. The beautiful little boat was the superior of any of her size upon the ocean, and subsequently, under the command of Captain John Barry, she did brilliant and noteworthy service. If it had not been for Jones she would have been worthless. The charge of extravagance, however, is fairly substantiated. Jones was, in fact, as indifferent in the spending of other people's money as he was with his own, and I have no doubt the bills, although he paid them, almost broke the harassed commissioner's heart. Jones, however, was in a very different position from that he had occupied previously. He had demonstrated his capacity in the most unequivocal manner. He was not a man to be dealt with slightingly, nor did Franklin, who undoubtedly cherished a genuine admiration and regard for him, which the sailor fully reciprocated by an enthusiastic admiration amounting to veneration, wish to do anything to humiliate him. While the repairs were progressing the financial status of the crew was in no way amended. There was no money forthcoming to them on the score of wages; the sale of the prizes was delayed, and serious differences arose between the agents of the crews, de Chaumont as representing the king, and Jones himself. Finally, in order to further the settlement of the matter, Jones decided to go to Paris and see what he could do personally to hasten the sale of the prizes, and perhaps secure some funds with which to pay the wages of the crews, in part at least. Early in April, therefore, he left the Alliance at L'Orient and repaired to the capital. From one point of view it was an unwise thing to do, for he left behind him a discontented and mutinous crew, which only his own indomitable personality had been able to repress and control. It is likely, however, that affairs at L'Orient would have remained _in statu quo_ had it not been for the advent of Arthur Lee. This gentleman is perhaps the only member of the famous family whose name he bore upon whose conduct and character severe judgment must be passed. Jealous, quarrelsome, and incompetent, his blundering attempts at diplomacy had worked more harm than good to the American nation. By his vanity and indiscretion he had continually thwarted the wise plans and brilliant policy of Franklin, with whom he had finally embroiled himself to such an extent that it became necessary for him to return home. Not only had he lost the esteem of Franklin, but through his petty meanness he had also forfeited the confidence of Congress, which had superseded him by John Jay at the court of Spain, to which he had been accredited previously. Franklin desired Jones to give him a passage home in the Alliance. Jones had a great dislike to his proposed passenger. When his draft upon the commissioners for twenty-four thousand livres had been dishonored, it was largely through the influence of Lee that the money had been refused him. Lee was fully acquainted with the circumstances which caused Jones to apply, and he might have secured payment. At least that was the opinion of Jones. With his usual frankness, Jones had not hesitated to express his opinion to Lee in a very tart letter, which had not improved the situation. In the face of the request of Franklin, Jones had no option but to receive Lee and his suite on the Alliance. He objected, however, most strenuously to allowing the ex-commissioner to take his carriage and other equipage on the frigate, stating with entire accuracy that articles of such bulk would take up much room, which could be better devoted to other and more important freightage. This, no doubt, further incensed Lee against Jones. He was ever inclined to put his personal comfort before the welfare of his country. Landais had been summoned, as we have seen, to Paris. The commissioners, with the documents prepared in the Texel before them, had discussed his case, and had decided to send him to America for trial. Franklin, who had not yet expressed any public judgment in the premises, though his private opinion was well known, had presented Landais with a sum of money for his voyage to the United States, and the whole correspondence, including the charges, had been transmitted to Congress. Arthur Lee, with his usual captious spirit, and inspired by his hatred of Jones and the desire to disagree with Franklin at the same time, had dissented from the view and decision of his colleagues. He had maintained that Landais was legally entitled to continue in the command of the Alliance, and that Franklin had not the power to supersede him--a contention not substantiated by the facts, nor, as was afterward shown, supported by Congress itself. When Jones went to Paris, therefore, Lee, realizing his opportunity, at once began to foment additional disorder in the already demoralized crew. Coincident with Jones' departure, Landais also made his appearance. Had Lee summoned him? Lee did not hesitate to express the opinion to that gentleman himself, his officers, and crew, that Landais was legitimately entitled to the command of the Alliance, and could not be removed therefrom except by specific direction of Congress. Things, therefore, developed with painful rapidity at L'Orient, until Landais addressed a note to Franklin demanding that he be reinstated in the command of the Alliance--a curious procedure for a man who claimed that Franklin was without power to displace him! Meanwhile Jones was having a brilliant reception in France. While he had incurred the hostility of the French naval officers, who fancied that he had deprived them of commands to which they were better entitled, and in the enjoyment of which he had gained distinction through opportunities which might possibly have fallen to them and which they might have embraced, he was everywhere received with the highest honors, as well by the court as the people. To the populace, indeed, he was a hero who had humbled the enemy whom they hated with the characteristic passion of Frenchmen. Franklin took him to call upon his old tormentor, the dilatory de Sartine, and, owing perhaps to naval prejudice, his first reception was extremely cool; but, as it became evident that he was a popular hero, the tone of the minister was lowered, and his actions were modified, so that he afterward extended him a warm welcome and professed extreme friendship for the commodore. The king and queen accorded him the favor of an audience, and his majesty, falling in with the popular current, was pleased to declare his intention of presenting him with a magnificent gold-mounted sword, to be inscribed with the following flattering motto: "VINDICATI MARIS LUDOVICUS XVI. REMUNERATOR STRENUO VINDICI."[34] He also signified his royal purpose, should the Congress acquiesce therein, of investing Jones with the cross of the Order of Military Merit, a distinction never before accorded to any but a subject of France, and only awarded for heroic conduct or conspicuous and brilliant military or naval services against the enemy. Nothing could have been more grateful to a man of Jones' temperament than the appreciation of the French people, and these evidences of admiration and esteem from the hand of the king. On his previous visit to Paris, after the capture of the Drake, he had been made much of; in this instance his reception greatly surpassed his former welcome. He became the lion of the day, the attraction of the hour. Great men sought his company, and held themselves honored by his friendship; while the fairest of the ladies of the gay court were proud to receive the attentions of the man who had so dramatically conquered the hated English. In all these circumstances he bore himself with becoming modesty. On one occasion he was invited to the queen's box at the opera. When he entered the theater he was loudly cheered, and at the close of the act a laurel wreath was suspended over his head, whereupon he changed his seat. This natural action has been quaintly commented upon by various biographers, and the statement is made that for many years it was held up before the French youth as an exhibition of extraordinary modesty! One of the most admirable of Jones' traits was a chivalrous devotion to women. To a natural grace of manner he added the bold directness of a sailor, which was not without its charm to the beauties of Versailles, sated with the usual artificial gallantry of the men of the period. Jones spoke French rather well, and had a taste for music and poetry. There were, therefore, many who did not disdain to draw the "sea lion" in their train. On account of the favors he had received he was a person of distinction at the court. Among his voluminous correspondence which has been preserved are numbers of letters to and from different women of rank and station, dating from this period and from his prolonged stay in Paris after the war had terminated. Among others, he corresponded with a lady who, after the romantic fashion of the time, at first endeavored to hide her identity under the name of Delia. Between Jones and Delia there seems to have sprung up a genuine passion, for the letters on both sides breathe a spirit of passionate, heartfelt devotion. It has been discovered that Delia was but another name for Madame de Telison, a natural daughter of Louis XV, with whom Jones frequently corresponded under her own name, and who is referred to in his biographies as Madame T----, and the identification is definite and complete. He was catholic in his affections, however, for he by no means confined his epistolary relations to the gentle and devoted Madame de Telison. It is interesting to note that in all these letters there is not a single indelicate or ill-bred allusion. That is what would be expected to-day, but when we remember that so great an authority as Robert Walpole suggested that everybody at his table should "talk bawdy," as being the only subject every one could understand, the significance of his clean letters is apparent. In his correspondence, except in the case of Aimée Adèle de Telison, he never appears to have passed beyond the bounds of romantic friendship. In later years, however, it is possible to infer from his letters that Madame de Telison bore to him a son, whose history is entirely unknown. Among others who honored him with their friendship were three women of high rank, the Duchess de Chartres, Madame d'Ormoy, and the Countess de Lavendahl, who painted his portrait in miniature. An English lady, Miss Edes, sojourning in France at this time, thus refers to him in two letters which she wrote for publication in the English journals: "The famous Paul Jones dines and sups here often; he is a smart man of thirty-six, speaks but little French, appears to be an extraordinary genius, a poet as well as hero; a few days ago he wrote some verses extempore, of which I send you a copy. He is greatly admired here, especially by the ladies, who are wild for love of him; but he adores the Countess of Lavendahl, who has honored him with every mark of politeness and distinction. "'Insulted freedom bled; I felt her cause, And drew my sword to vindicate her laws From principle, and not from vain applause. I've done my best; self-interest far apart, And self-reproach a stranger to my heart. My zeal still prompts, ambitious to pursue The foe, ye fair! of liberty and you; Grateful for praise, spontaneous and unbought, A generous people's love not meanly sought; To merit this, and bend the knee to beauty, Shall be my earliest and latest duty.' "Since my last, Paul Jones drank tea and supped here. If I am in love for him, for love I may die. I have as many rivals as there are ladies, but the most formidable is still Lady Lavendahl, who possesses all his heart. This lady is of high rank and virtue, very sensible, good-natured, and affable. Besides this, she is possessed of youth, beauty, and wit, and every other form of female accomplishment. He is gone, I suppose, for America. They correspond, and his letters are replete with elegance, sentiment, and delicacy. She drew his picture, a striking likeness, and wrote some lines under it which are much admired, and presented it to him. Since he received it he is, like a second Narcissus, in love with his own resemblance; to be sure, he is the most agreeable sea wolf one would wish to meet with." In all this, however, Jones did not for a moment neglect the business which had called him to Paris. He moved heaven and earth to effect the sale of the prizes, bringing to bear all his personal popularity and making use of his new-found friends, both men and women, to accomplish the desired results. In all his attempts he was zealously supported by Franklin, who, I have no doubt, greatly enjoyed the popularity of his _protégé_. Finally, on the last day of May, having received positive assurance that the prizes would be sold and distribution made immediately, he set out for L'Orient. On leaving Paris he carried with him a personal commendation from Franklin and a letter from de Sartine to the President of Congress, as follows: "Passy, _June 1, 1780_. "_Samuel Huntington, Esq., President of Congress_. "Sir: Commodore Jones, who by his bravery and conduct has done great honour to the American flag, desires to have that also of presenting a line to the hands of your Excellency. I cheerfully comply with his request, in recommending him to the notice of Congress, and to your Excellency's protection, though his actions are more effectual recommendations, and render any from me unnecessary. It gives me, however, an opportunity of shewing my readiness to do justice to merit, and of professing the esteem and respect with which I am, etc. B. Franklin." From M. de Sartine to Mr. Huntington, President of the Congress of the United States: "Versailles, _May 30, 1780_. "Commodore Paul Jones, after having shown to all Europe, and particularly to the enemies of France and the United States, the most unquestionable proofs of his valor and talents, is about returning to America to give an account to Congress of the success of his military operations. I am convinced, Sir, that the reputation he has so justly acquired will precede him, and that the recital of his actions alone will suffice to prove to his fellow citizens that his abilities are equal to his courage. But the king has thought proper to add his suffrage and attention to the public opinion. He has expressly charged me to inform you how perfectly he is satisfied with the services of the Commodore, persuaded that Congress will render him the same justice. He has offered, as a proof of his esteem, to present him with a sword, which can not be placed in better hands, and likewise proposed to Congress to decorate this brave officer with the cross of Military Merit. His Majesty conceives that this particular distinction, by holding forth the same honours to the two nations, united by the same interests, will be looked upon as one tie more that connects them, and will support that emulation which is so precious to the common cause. If, after having approved the conduct of the Commodore, it should be thought proper to give him the command of any new expedition to Europe, His Majesty will receive him again with pleasure, and presumes that Congress will oppose nothing that may be judged expedient to secure the success of his enterprises. My personal esteem for him induces me to recommend him very particularly to you, Sir, and I dare flatter myself that the welcome he will receive from Congress and you will warrant the sentiments with which he has inspired me." While all this had been going on, however, Franklin had been having serious trouble with the men of the Alliance. On the 12th of April the officers dispatched a letter to Franklin demanding their prize money and wages. Franklin had previously advanced them twenty-four thousand livres, and he wrote them that everything was being done to hasten the sale of the prizes, and that they would have to be content with what he had given them, and receive the balance when they reached the United States. On the 29th of May Landais wrote, repeating his application of the 17th of March, and inclosing a mutinous letter signed by one hundred and fifteen of the crew of the Alliance, declaring that they would not raise an anchor nor sail from L'Orient till they had six months' wages paid to them, and the utmost farthing of their prize money, including that for the ships sent into Norway, and until their legal captain, Pierre Landais, was restored to them. Landais had added the phrase "until their legal captain, P. Landais, is restored to us," himself. With this letter was another communication from fourteen of the original officers of the Alliance, to the effect that the crew were in favor of Landais, who was a capable officer, whose conduct had been misrepresented, and whom they considered themselves bound to obey as their legal captain. These officers can not be relieved of a large share of the odium attaching to the conduct of the Alliance during the battle between the Richard and the Serapis. The reason for their dislike of Jones is therefore apparent. To carry out their designs they had circulated among the crew statements to the effect that Jones had received the prize money and was enjoying himself at their expense. The fine Italian hand of Mr. Lee is to be seen in the documents they forwarded to Franklin. Franklin's reply to this disgracefully insubordinate batch of letters was remarkable for its tact, acumen, and good sense. After keenly expressing his surprise that the very officers who had testified against Landais a short time before, and whom Landais had stated were all leagued against him, were now desirous of being placed again under his command, he writes as follows: "I have related exactly to Congress the manner of his [Landais'] leaving the ship, and though I declined any judgment of his maneuvers in the fight, I have given it as my opinion, after examining the affair, that it was not at all likely either that he should have given orders to fire into the Bon Homme Richard, or that his officers should have obeyed such an order should it have been given them. Thus I have taken what care I could of your honour in that particular. You will, therefore, excuse me if I am a little concerned for it in another. If it should come to be publicly known that you had the strongest aversion to Captain Landais, who has used you basely, and that it is only since the last year's cruise, and the appointment of Commodore Jones to the command, that you request to be again under your old captain, I fear suspicions and reflections may be thrown upon you by the world, as if this change of sentiment may have arisen from your observation during the cruise, that _Captain Jones loved close fighting_,[35] but that Captain Landais was skilful in keeping out of harm's way; and that you, therefore, thought yourself safer with the latter. For myself, I believe you to be brave men and lovers of your country and its glorious cause; and I am persuaded you have only been ill-advised and misled by the artful and malicious representations of some persons I guess at. Take in good part this counsel from an old man who is your friend. Go home peaceably with your ship. Do your duty faithfully and cheerfully. Behave respectfully to your commander, and I am persuaded he will do the same to you. Thus you will not only be happier in your voyage, but recommend yourselves to the future favours of Congress and of your country." At the same time he specifically directed Landais to refrain from meddling with the men or creating any disturbance on the Alliance at his peril. To this letter Landais paid no attention. This was the situation when Jones reached L'Orient. Franklin wrote him concerning the letters and batch of documents from Landais and the crew, which had arrived after his departure, and advised him what had been done in consequence. The commissioner had procured an imperative order to the authorities at L'Orient for the arrest of Landais, who was to be tried for his life as an emigrant without the king's permission. Franklin also directed Jones to withhold from the signers of the mutinous letter any portion of the money he had advanced on account of the prizes, and he added the firm and decided injunction that if any one was not willing to trust his country to see justice done him he should be put ashore at his own charges to await the sale of the prizes. The situation was most critical, and that Franklin appreciated it fully is shown by the following citation from one of his letters to Jones: "... You are likely to have great trouble. I wish you well through it. You have shown your abilities in fighting; you have now an opportunity of showing the other necessary part in the character of a great chief, your abilities in policy." Before this letter was received, however, matters had risen to a climax, which resulted in the ejection of Jones and the assumption of the command by Landais. Immediately he arrived at L'Orient, Jones hastened to get ready for leaving. The Ariel, a small ship of twenty guns, had been loaned by the French Government to carry such supplies as could not be taken on the Alliance. Several American vessels with valuable cargoes were awaiting his departure also, to sail under his convoy. Jones had gone on board the Alliance as usual, as his duty demanded, and had been received respectfully and his orders promptly obeyed. On the morning of the 13th of June, being now for the first time informed of the mutinous action of the crew and the letters to Franklin, he mustered the crew and caused his commission and Franklin's first order to him to take command of the ship in the Texel, and his last one, to carry her to Philadelphia, to be read to the men. He then addressed the seamen, pointing out to them the obligations they had assumed, the consequences of a refusal to obey him on their part, and urged them to a faithful performance of their duty. He asked them, if any one had any complaints to make against him, that they be made now. No reply was made to this address, and no complaints were brought forward. The men were then dismissed to their stations. Shortly after this incident Jones went ashore. Landais was advised of the whole situation immediately, and sent a letter to Degges, the first lieutenant, ordering him to assume the command of the ship and retain it in the face of Jones or any one else until Landais should receive an answer to his demand to Franklin to be replaced in the command of the Alliance. When he received this order, Landais stated that he would at once come on board and take over the ship. Degges mustered the crew again and read this letter. The adroit suggestions of Mr. Lee and the insinuations as to Jones' alleged betrayal of their interests by making off with the prize money had so worked on the feelings of the men that they at once declared for Landais, who, on being notified, promptly repaired to the ship and formally assumed command. Dale and the officers of the Richard on the Alliance, who had not been aware of these last proceedings, for they had been adroitly timed for their dinner hour when they were below, were apprised of Landais' arrival by the cheering on deck. They protested against his assuming command, and were all sent ashore without ceremony. Mr. Lee seems to have suggested and approved of the action of Landais; indeed, without his sanction the latter would never have dared to take command of the ship. On the afternoon of the same day Jones dispatched a letter to Franklin by express, relating the circumstances, and then immediately followed in person, which was an unnecessary thing to do. On his arrival at Paris he found that peremptory orders had already been sent post haste to L'Orient to detain forcibly the Alliance, and reiterating the command to arrest Landais. Franklin, appreciating the meddling of Lee, withdrew his request to Jones to receive him as a passenger, and stated that he might return to America in some of the other ships going home under the convoy of the Alliance. Finding nothing more to be done, after staying but two days, Jones returned to L'Orient as quickly as possible. He arrived on the morning of the 20th of June, having been absent six days. During this time the Alliance had been warped out of the inner roads into the narrow strait called Port Louis, which was inclosed by rocks and commanded by batteries, which she would have to pass before she could reach the outer roads of Groix. The peremptory orders to stop the ship had not arrived, but the commander of the port under his previous orders had caused a barrier to be drawn across the narrow strait of Port Louis, and had ordered the forts to sink the frigate if she attempted to pass out. When Jones arrived, a boat was sent off to the ship by the port officer, carrying the king's order for the arrest of Landais. He positively refused to surrender himself. Franklin's latest orders to Landais and the officers and men were then delivered, and were treated with equal contempt. All this was another evidence of Landais' folly, for the Alliance was completely in Jones' power. He had but to give the word to have caused the batteries to open fire and sink her. She could neither have escaped nor made adequate reply. Indeed, it is probable, from the character of her captain, officers, and crew, that she would have made little or no fight. But, according to Jones' specific statement, for France, the avowed ally of America, to have opened fire upon an American ship, and to have killed and wounded American sailors, would have been a terrible misfortune, a thing greatly to be deplored, and to be avoided if possible, lest the present friendly relations between the two countries should be impaired by this action. The aid of France was vital to the American cause at this juncture, and it was patent that every effort should be made to promote harmony rather than sow discord; therefore Jones reluctantly requested the commander to secure his batteries, open the barrier, and allow the Alliance to get through the strait. The French officers accordingly, in the absence of other orders, stopped the preparations they had made to detain the frigate, and expressed their admiration for the magnanimity of Jones in allowing the Alliance to go free. As soon as he received permission, Landais warped the Alliance through the passage between the rocks and anchored in Groix roads. Safe out of harm's way, he had reached a position from which he really could defy Jones and France at last, and defy them he did, more boldly than ever. It is impossible entirely to approve of Jones' conduct in this complicated affair. He might have gone on board the Alliance the day of the outbreak and confronted Landais. His own personality was so strong that it seems probable he could have regained possession of the ship in despite of anything the weak Landais could say or do. However, if the spirit of the men had been so turned against him that in his judgment this would have been impracticable, he certainly had the situation entirely in his own hands when the Alliance lay under the guns of the batteries. It was not necessary for the batteries to open fire. If he had simply kept the pass closed Landais would have been unable to get away, and it is difficult to see how he could have avoided surrendering himself and yielding up his ship eventually. All that would have been necessary for Jones to do would be to have patience; that was a thing, however, of which he had but little throughout his life. If he did not desire to wait, he could have opened fire upon the ship, taking the risk of a rupture, or allowing the blame, if any arose, to fall upon those who had put him in command of the Alliance originally, and had continued him therein. I venture to surmise that the first broadside would have brought down the flag of the Alliance. In this action he would have been entirely within his rights. If Jones really wanted her, he could have easily secured possession of the ship. Instead of doing any of these things, he let Landais and the Alliance go. For this he is distinctly censurable. It is, perhaps, not difficult to see why he permitted her to escape. I have no doubt he loathed the officers and men upon her. He was probably sick of the sight of her. He could contemplate with no satisfaction whatever a cruise upon her, especially with Arthur Lee as a passenger, and he was a gentleman whom it would have been difficult to dispose of. There was, it has been surmised, still another and more pertinent reason. The Serapis was still in the harbor. She had just been purchased by the king. Jones' desire for her was as strong as ever--stronger, if anything. Upward of five hundred tons of public stores and munitions of war still remained to be taken to America. The Ariel could not begin to carry it all. His dream was to beg or borrow the Serapis, which, in conjunction with the Ariel, should transport the stores to the United States, and then be refitted for warlike cruising under his command. If he retained the Alliance this hope would vanish. When the Alliance was warped out of the harbor he promptly wrote to Franklin suggesting this plan. Meanwhile, he kept up a hot fire of orders and letters upon Landais, who, being now out of his power, treated his communications with silent contempt. When Jones directed that his personal baggage be sent off from the Alliance, Landais sent it to him in disgraceful condition, trunks broken open, papers scattered, and much of his private property missing. On the 28th he wrote to Landais ordering him not to sail without his permission, and directing him to send eighty of his best seamen riggers to assist in equipping the Ariel. Landais sent him twenty-two people, of whom he wished to be rid, with an insolent note. When Jones wrote to him for the balance of the men he had ordered, Landais would not allow the officer carrying the order to come on board. A few days after this he sailed for America, with many of the men of the Bon Homme Richard, who still adhered to Jones, and who refused to assist him in getting the ship under way, in irons in the hold. To close a troublesome subject, it may be stated that the Alliance reached Boston in August. The peculiar conduct of Landais on this cruise so alarmed the officers and jeopardized the safety of the ship, that by the advice of the meddlesome Lee--who was in this single instance justified in his suggestions--he was summarily deprived of the command of the ship on the plea of insanity, and kept closely confined till they reached Boston. No one was more incensed against him than his whilom upholder and defender, Lee. Landais was formally tried by court-martial when he arrived in the United States and dismissed the service. He got off lightly. He should have been hanged from the yardarm of his own ship as an example and a warning to mutinous traitors. CHAPTER XV. THE CRUISE OF THE ARIEL. Early in the month of July Jones received the sword which had been bestowed upon him by the king. He commented enthusiastically upon its beauty and its value, saying that it had cost twenty-four hundred dollars--a large sum for that day. The month was passed in preparing the Ariel for departure, and in a vigorous correspondence with Franklin and his friends, feminine and otherwise. On the 2d of August, in a note to the Prime Minister, the Count de Vergennes, Jones informed him that he was nearly ready to sail. The last of July Franklin had sent him his final dispatches with the Count de Vauban, who expected to sail with him, but for unexplained reasons Jones did not take his departure until the 4th of September, when the Ariel was warped out to the open roads of Groix. From the 4th of September to the 7th of October he was detained, partly by contrary winds and partly by a rumor, to which, perhaps, he should not have given credence, that further dispatches were to be sent to him. On the 7th of October, at two o'clock in the afternoon, he weighed anchor and put to sea, convoying three merchant ships. The wind, being from the north-northwest, blew fair for their departure, and the weather was mild and pleasant. The next morning the wind shifted and came in violent squalls from the southward. The ship was not yet clear of the land. The island of Groix lay about fifteen miles to the northeastward, and, as the weather became very thick and the wind increased until it was blowing a tremendous gale, they soon lost sight of the shore to the leeward. In spite of their efforts, they were unable to make any headway against the storm, and were accordingly carried down toward the Penmarque Rocks, a series of sharp, low reefs, jagged needles of the sea, terminating the southeastern extremity of the peninsula of Brittany, among the most dangerous in the world. The ship was in that position above all others dreaded by the mariner--drifting upon a lee shore in a gale of wind. The Ariel had been put under close-reefed fore and main sails, and her head laid to the northwest in the hope that she might stretch along and clear the reefs; but the wind, increasing to a perfect hurricane, in the language of Mackenzie, "smothered" the ship, at last obliging Jones to furl the courses and prevented him from showing even a storm staysail. In the report of the officers it is stated that the storm had become so violent that "the lee fore yardarm was frequently under water; the lee gangway was laid entirely under water, and the lee side of the waist was full." The water in the hold flowed into the cockpit, notwithstanding the utmost efforts of the chain pumps. The ship was very heavy laden, and lay deep in the water, dipping her yardarms with every roll. As the tempest rose in violence it became impossible to tell just where they were, as the murky darkness of the storm hid every landmark. It was evident, however, from an inspection of the compass that they were still drifting toward the shore. This fact was confirmed by the rapid shoaling of the water, a fact Jones established by personally taking successive casts with the hand lead. There was no room to veer and get the ship headed the other way. If there had been, the result would probably have been no different. In the face of such a storm she would have continued to drift toward the reef. Their progress to leeward was frightfully rapid. The ship was leaking badly, and one of the chain pumps had become choked and refused to work. Destruction seemed inevitable. In all his varied experiences Jones had seen nothing like the storm. In his report he says that never before did he fully conceive the awful majesty of a shipwreck. In their distress, as a last resort, he determined to anchor. A hasty consultation was had among the officers on the quarter-deck, and this desperate resort was agreed upon. At eleven o'clock in the morning the best bower anchor was let go with thirty fathoms of cable. The effect was not perceptible. The ship was not brought to, and continued to drift broadside on toward the land in the trough of the sea. She dragged her anchor as if it had been a straw. Two other cables were spliced on and veered out. Still she drove on. The pressure of the gale upon the bare spars was tremendous. The wind roared through the top-hamper with amazing velocity. The masts quivered and buckled under the awful strain to which they were subjected; the standing rigging to windward stood out as taut and rigid as if it had been cut from bars of steel. As the frigate lay in the trough of the sea the mighty waves tossed her about like a cockboat. Broad sheets of foam swept over the deck, washing away everything not tightly secured. To relieve the pressure and get the ship to ride to her anchor, Jones now ordered the weather shrouds of the foremast to be cut, and the wind instantly snapped off the mast above the deck; with all its weight of spars and rigging it fell to leeward and carried away the other bower anchor and a kedge anchor, and smashed up the head badly. This afforded some relief, for immediately after the anchor took hold and the ship gradually swung head to the wind at last. Her drift toward the rocks was not entirely checked, but while they were hesitating as to what to do next, the mainmast, the heel of which had been jerked out of its step by the violent motion of the ship, so that it had been vibrating to and fro like a smitten reed, parted just where it entered the main deck. The wind hurled the immense mass of timber and cordage aft, where it fell across the decks, carrying with it the mizzenmast, smashing the lee quarter gallery, and generally wrecking the after part of the vessel. The ship was thus stripped of her spars except the bowsprit, and they could do no more. If she did not bring to her anchor and cease her drag toward the rocks, over which the breakers could now be seen crashing with terrible force, and with a roar heard above the mad noises of the tempest, they were lost. They hastily cleared the wreck as they were able, letting it drift to leeward, and waited with still hearts and bated breaths for the next happening. No mere seamanship, no human skill could save them now. They were in God's hands. Since their other anchor had been lost by the fall of the foremast, if their present anchor gave way they were helpless. Fortunately the stripped ship, relieved of the tremendous pressure of the wind upon her top-hamper, at last rode to her anchor, and her drift on the rocks was stopped. For the present they were saved. They could do nothing now but wait and trust to the strength of the iron fluke and the hempen cable. Fortunately, both held. For two days and three nights the Ariel swung to that single anchor, and passively endured the tremendous buffeting of wind and waves within a short distance of the mighty reefs upon which, if she had struck, every soul on board must have perished. For the greater part of this time the motion of the mastless ship was so violent that the most experienced seaman could not keep his legs upon the deck. On the 12th the gale had sufficiently moderated to permit the crew to erect jury masts under which they could regain the harbor. The cable was hove short, but the anchor could not be weighed, as it was probably caught upon a rock. Indeed, nothing but a rock hold would have saved them; so the cable was cut, and the battered Ariel limped back to L'Orient, which she reached on the 13th of October. The gale was one of the most severe with which that storm-bound coast had ever been visited within the memory of man. The whole shore was strewed with wrecks and the bodies of drowned men. The merchant ships of the convoy were lost, with hundreds of other vessels. That the Ariel, in the most dangerous position which could possibly have been imagined even, escaped without loss of life was due to the Providence of God and the brilliant seamanship of her captain. Long afterward Richard Dale wrote thus of his commander's conduct in these trying circumstances: "Never saw I such coolness and readiness in such frightful circumstances as Paul Jones showed in the nights and days when we lay off the Penmarques, expecting every moment to be our last; and the danger was greater even than we were in when the Bon Homme Richard fought the Serapis." Two months were required to put the Ariel in shape for sea once more. All the arms which she was carrying out for the use of the army had been so damaged by water as to be useless. They were left behind and their place supplied by other cargo. During this interval, when not occupied in superintending the repairs to the ship, Jones amused himself with his usual prolific correspondence. He had also a spirited encounter with one Thomas Truxtun, afterward the distinguished naval officer, at that time master of a privateer called the Independence. Truxtun entered the harbor of L'Orient flying a pennant, the use of which was restricted by act of Congress to regularly commissioned vessels of war, except in the case of privateers cruising alone. A sharp correspondence was carried on between Jones and Truxtun, who was a mere boy at the time. Truxtun at first refused to haul down the offending pennant, but was finally induced to do so by Richard Dale and two heavily armed boats' crews from the Ariel. Jones was not to be trifled with, and Truxtun received a good lesson in subordination and obedience to law--always of value to a privateer.[36] While the Ariel was being refitted, Jones, with his usual longing for a first-class ship of war--a thing he never enjoyed during the whole course of his life--through some influential friends made an attempt to get the French Government to lend him the new and handsome frigate Terpsichore, but his request, as usual, was not complied with. Just before the Ariel sailed, Jones gave a grand entertainment on board of her, to which he invited all his friends, which closed with an exercise at general quarters, followed by a representation of battle, which greatly alarmed his fair visitors. On the 18th of December he took his departure once more. His last letters to Madame d'Ormoy are very characteristic of Jones in his capacity as a squire of dames, and well indicate his feelings at this time: "I can not leave France without expressing how much I feel myself honoured and obliged by the generous attention that you have shown to my reputation in your journal. I will ever have the most ardent desire to merit the spontaneous praise of beauty and her pen; and it is impossible to be more grateful than I am for the very polite attentions I received at Paris and Versailles. My particular thanks are due to you, madam, for the personal proofs I have received of your esteem and friendship, and for the happiness you procured me in the society of the charming countess, and other ladies and gentlemen of your circle. But I have a favour to ask of you, madam, which I hope you will grant me. You tell me in your letter that the inkstand I had the honour to present to you, as a small token of my esteem, shall be reserved for the purpose of writing what concerns me; now I wish you to see my idea in a more expanded light, and would have you make use of that inkstand to instruct mankind, and support the dignity and rights of human nature." In another letter to the same lady he says: "It is impossible to be more sensible than I am of the obligation conferred on me by your attentions and kind remembrance, joined to that of the belle comtesse, your fair daughters, and the amiable ladies and gentlemen of your society. I have returned without laurels and, what is worse, without having been able to render service to the glorious cause of liberty. I know not why Neptune was in such anger, unless he thought it was an affront in me to repair 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 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 can not 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 may hate me, but _I will force them to esteem me too_."[37] The voyage was uneventful. Jones chose the southern passage, which was less frequented by ships than the more direct route; the value of his cargo being so great and the force of his vessel so small, he did not wish to run any risk of being captured on this cruise. When they had reached a point about twelve hundred miles east of Florida and nine hundred miles north of Barbadoes, in latitude 26° N., longitude 60° W., they were chased by a sail, which appeared to be a large frigate. Jones, for the reasons mentioned, endeavored by crowding sail on the Ariel to escape--his reputation for courage and intrepidity was sufficiently high to allow him to run away without any imputation being warranted by this action--but the stranger had the heels of the Ariel, and gradually overhauled her. Night came on before she came within range, and Jones hoped to run away from her in the darkness; but his efforts to elude his pursuer were unavailing, and when day dawned she was still close at hand. The wind fell during the morning, and the two ships maintained their relative positions all day. Toward evening the breeze became stronger again, and the stranger began to draw up on the Ariel. As she came nearer, Jones discovered that she was not so formidable a vessel as he had imagined, and he determined to effect her capture. Making a great show of endeavoring to escape, therefore, he cleared ship for action, sent his men to quarters, and permitted his pursuer to overhaul him. She ranged alongside the lee beam just at nightfall. Both ships were flying the English flag. Jones was ready for action, the other ship was not. The quartermaster of the Ariel, whose duty it was to hoist the flags, had unfortunately allowed one end of the halliards to escape him. Jones had intended, as the stranger ranged alongside, to haul down the English flag and substitute the American colors, then, crossing the enemy's bows, pour in a broadside and capture her by boarding; but this petty neglect, or trifling accident, on the part of the quartermaster made it impossible to haul down the flag at the appointed time, so the opportunity was lost and the project had to be given over. Vessels of war, when maneuvering for position, frequently sail under strange colors, but it is a point of honor, invariably observed, which, so far as my knowledge goes, has not been disregarded in civilized warfare--if that phrase be permissible--to fight under one's own flag. Having lost his opportunity from this unfortunate mischance, Jones necessarily entered into a conversation with the other ship, while he made preparations for further maneuvering. What is known in sea parlance as "a regular gam" ensued. The conversation lasted for some time, during which he discovered that their pursuer was the Triumph, an American-built ship of twenty guns, Captain John Pindar, an equal match for the Ariel. She was a British privateer, though Jones and his men considered her a man-of-war. Pindar probably told them so to increase his prestige. After learning all that he could about English affairs in America from the garrulous captain of the privateer, who must have been extraordinarily stupid, Jones directed him to lower a boat and come on board with his commission to prove that he was really an Englishman. Pindar refused to do this, and Jones, watch in hand, said he would allow him just five minutes for reflection as to the disastrous consequences of a refusal to comply with this request. During this interval the Englishman endeavored to clear ship for action, his men not having gone to quarters before--a great piece of carelessness and neglect. At the expiration of the appointed time, Pindar still proving obdurate, Jones backed his ship on the weather quarter of the Triumph, put his helm up, crossed her stern, and poured in a broadside which raked her at short range and naturally did much execution. He then ranged alongside the lee beam of the privateer, and for ten minutes poured in a vigorous fire. The resistance of the enemy, at first spirited, had grown more feeble, until at the end of that time Pindar hauled down his flag and begged for quarter, saying when he surrendered that half his crew were killed or wounded. The Ariel's men left their stations and gave three cheers, but the erstwhile stupid Pindar proved to be a more wily antagonist than they imagined. His ship had gradually moved ahead of the Ariel during the contest, and now, suddenly putting up his helm and throwing out his studding sails, he ran off dead before the wind, with all his killed and wounded. The unsuspecting and astonished Americans on the Ariel endeavored to follow the man who had so cleverly eluded them, but their overloaded ship was no match in sailing for the swift privateer, which soon made good her escape in the night. Jones was naturally much disgusted at the outcome of this engagement, and in his journal he properly comments upon Pindar's action as follows: "The English captain may properly be called a knave, because, after he surrendered his ship, begged for and obtained quarter, he basely ran away, contrary to the laws of naval war and the practice of civilized nations." Jones stated that he never had seen a ship better fought by a crew than the Ariel had been in this instance. However, the usual conspiracy to rise and take the ship was discovered among the English members of the crew later on. It was thwarted by his vigorous measures, and on the 17th of February, 1781, the Ariel dropped anchor in the harbor of Philadelphia, just three years, three months, and sixteen days from the departure of the Ranger at Portsmouth. CHAPTER XVI. CAREER IN THE UNITED STATES TO THE CLOSE OF THE WAR. When Jones arrived at Philadelphia, the Board of Admiralty was engaged in investigating the delay in bringing the stores from France. Franklin, Jones, and Landais were under discussion. For his share in the performance, and for other actions mentioned, Landais had already been punished, as we have seen. Jones, therefore, was at once summoned before the board, but before he reported to them they dismissed the summons and instead requested him to answer in writing an exhaustive series of questions covering his actions from the time of his arrival at L'Orient the year before. Jones immediately set about preparing his replies, meanwhile sending Franklin's note and De Sartine's letter to the President to Congress, which, on the 27th of February, adopted the following resolutions: "_Resolved_, That the Congress entertain a high sense of the distinguished bravery and military conduct of John Paul Jones, Esq., captain in the navy of the United States, and particularly in his victory over the British frigate Serapis on the coast of England, which was attended with circumstances so brilliant as to excite general applause and admiration. "That the Minister Plenipotentiary of these United States, at the Court of Versailles, communicate to his Most Christian Majesty, the high satisfaction Congress has received from the conduct and gallant behaviour 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." In accordance with the permission conveyed by these flattering resolutions, the French Minister, M. de la Luzerne, gave a splendid entertainment, to which the members of Congress and the principal citizens of Philadelphia were invited. Before this distinguished company, in the name of the king, the commodore, wearing his beautiful sword, was invested with the cross of a Knight of the Order of Military Merit. It is stated that Jones habitually wore this decoration thereafter, and referred to himself, and desired to be addressed, by the title of Chevalier, which was conferred with it. On the 28th of March, having carefully considered his answers to the questions, the board declared itself as fully satisfied that the delay had not been owing to Jones or Franklin, and stated to Congress in an enthusiastic document that the conduct of Jones merited some distinguished mark of approbation. In accordance with this recommendation, on the 14th of April the following resolution was passed: "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 hath supported the honour 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. "That the thanks of the United States, in Congress assembled, be also given to the officers and men who have faithfully served under him from time to time, for their steady affection to the cause of their country, and the bravery and perseverance they have manifested therein." The thanks of Congress, the highest honor an officer can receive, were given to but five other officers during the Revolution--viz., to Washington, for the capture of Boston; to Gates, for taking Burgoyne; to Wayne, for the storming of Stony Point; to Morgan, for the victory at the Cowpens; and to Greene, for his success at Eutaw Springs. Jones, therefore, stood in distinguished company. On the 19th of May, to all of these honors was added a further evidence of esteem, which was perhaps as valuable as any that he had received. It came in the shape of the following letter from Washington: "Sir: My partial acquaintance with either our naval or commercial affairs makes it altogether impossible for me to account for the unfortunate delay of those articles of military stores and clothing which have been so long provided in France. Had I any particular reasons to have suspected you of being accessory to that delay, which I assure you has not been the case, my suspicions would have been removed by the very full and satisfactory answers, which you have, to the best of my judgment, made to the questions proposed to you by the Board of Admiralty, and upon which that board have, in their report to Congress, testified the high sense which they entertain of your merit and services. "Whether our naval affairs have, in general, been well or ill conducted it would be presumptuous for 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 a most illustrious monarch to confer a mark of his favour which can only be obtained by a long and honourable service, or by the performance of some brilliant action. "That you may long enjoy the reputation you have so justly acquired is the sincere wish of, Sir, your most obedient and very humble servant, "George Washington." An attempt was made in Congress to promote him to the grade of rear admiral--which he certainly deserved--and a resolution to that effect was introduced. Owing, however, to jealousy among certain other officers whom he would have superseded, the effort fell through. This would have settled the long and tiresome contention on the question of relative rank, and naturally would have been most agreeable to Jones. However, the matter was settled in a more indirect but perhaps equally satisfactory way. On the 23d of June, Robert Morris became Minister of Marine in succession to the Board of Admiralty, which was abolished, and on that same day Congress resolved to take a ballot three days later to designate the commander of the America, a magnificent ship of the line, building at Portsmouth, which was then believed to be nearly ready for launching. On the 26th of June, the ballot being taken, it was found that Paul Jones had been unanimously chosen for the position. Since the act of Congress on the 15th of November, 1776, made a captain of a ship of from twenty to forty guns equal to a lieutenant colonel, while a captain of a ship of forty guns and upward was made equal to a colonel, and as he was the only officer intrusted with so large a command, Jones was thus in effect placed at the head of the navy list. He certainly belonged there. With his usual good sense he notes in his journal his satisfaction, as follows: "Thus Congress took a delicate method to avoid cabal and to do justice. It was more agreeable to Captain Jones to be so honourably elected captain of the line than to have been, as was proposed by the committee, raised at once to the rank of rear admiral, because Congress had not then the means of giving a command suitable to that rank." By direction of Robert Morris, at this time he presented his accounts to Congress. He had received no pay and but little prize money since his entry into the service, and, as has been stated, had advanced large sums of money from his private funds for the payment of officers and crew. The Government indebtedness to him amounted to some twenty-seven thousand dollars, but no money was forthcoming, consequently on the 28th of July he was actually compelled to ask for an advance of four hundred pounds to pay current expenses and small debts in Philadelphia, and enable him to proceed to New Hampshire and enter upon his duties. This he appears to have received. He stopped _en route_ at New Rochelle, where he was handsomely entertained by Washington and de Rochambeau, both of whom he had great pleasure in meeting. As he received a hint at the army headquarters that his decoration and title might be obnoxious to the sturdy New Englanders, he thereafter discontinued wearing the cross for a space. He reached Portsmouth toward the last of August, and found that the America was still on the ways and would not be ready to put to sea for months. This was a great disappointment to him, but he set to work with his usual zeal to further the work of getting the ship ready for launching. During his wanderings he had collected a most valuable professional library, and he now found leisure to devote a good part of his time to study, some of the results of which appeared in the improvements which he carried out on the America. As usual, he also resumed his correspondence. In his letters of this period are many excellent suggestions looking to the welfare and future development of the naval service. Many of these suggestions were subsequently adopted in the service. The following letter, dated August 12, 1782, which he received from John Adams, then minister at The Hague, is pleasant reading: "The command of the America could not have been more judiciously bestowed; and it is with impatience that I wish her at sea, where she will do honour to her name. Nothing gives me so much surprise, or so much regret, as the inattention of my countrymen to their navy; it is a bulwark as essential to us as it is to Great Britain.[38] It is less costly than armies, and more easily removed from one end of the United States to the other. "Rodney's victory has intoxicated Britain again to such a degree that I think there will be no peace for some time. Indeed, if I could see a prospect of half a dozen line of battle ships under the American flag, commanded by Commodore John Paul Jones, engaged with an equal British force, I apprehend the event would be so glorious for the United States, and ay, so sure a foundation for their prosperity, that it would be a rich compensation for a continuance of the war." When Jones heard of the movement which resulted in the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, he had expressed a desire to serve as a volunteer in the army for the campaign under Lafayette. He pined for action always. On this subject he received the following affectionate letter from that gallant Frenchman: "_December 22, 1781_. "I have been honoured with your polite favour, my dear Paul Jones, but before it reached me I was already on board the Alliance, and every minute expecting to put to sea. It would have afforded me great satisfaction to pay my respects to the inhabitants of Portsmouth, and the State in which you are for the present. 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 of my best thanks for the kind expressions in your letter. His Lordship's [Lord Cornwallis] downfall 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 honour 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 [_troupes de mer_] as might cut a good figure ashore, and then give you plenty of provisions and _carte blanche_." It would appear from the letters that both Adams and Lafayette held a similar opinion of the capacity of the great commodore. On the occasion of the rejoicings at Portsmouth over the surrender of Cornwallis he ventured to assume his cross of knighthood again, and, finding that no objections were made, he continued to wear it on all occasions, and he also resumed the title of Chevalier. The fall, the winter, and the following summer passed quietly and pleasantly for the little captain, busily engaged in writing, waiting, working, planning, and drawing. On the whole I think this must have been, after Paris, the happiest period of his life. He made many friends, and was much looked up to by the people of Portsmouth and vicinity. There was a spice of excitement about his work as well, which relieved the monotony, for the enemy conceived various projects to destroy the America, which could not be put in operation owing to the vigorous watchfulness of Jones, who armed and drilled and exercised his workmen for guarding the ship. The birth of the French Dauphin was celebrated elaborately in the summer of 1782. Toward the last of August the ship was about ready for launching, and Jones cherished high hopes of soon getting to sea in her. Unfortunately, however, a squadron of French ships of the line, under the Marquis de Vaudreuil, entered the harbor of Boston at this time, and one of them, named the Magnifique, was stranded on a rock and lost. Congress, by a resolution dated the 3d of September, presented the America to the French king as a recompense for the loss of the Magnifique, and on the 4th of September Morris sadly acquainted Jones with the decision. To be compelled to turn over the great ship, in which he had hoped to do such brilliant service, to the French was a tremendous disappointment to the commodore, but he wrote in so noble and magnanimous a manner to Morris on the subject that the latter at once said to him that the sentiments which he had expressed would always reflect the highest honor upon his character. In fact, Jones' words made so strong an impression upon the mind of Morris that he immediately submitted his letter to Congress. The America was launched on the 5th of November. The operation of getting her into the water was a difficult one on account of the peculiar lay of the land opposite the ways, but Jones accomplished it with his usual skill and address. When the ship was safely moored he turned her over to the Chevalier de Martigne, the former captain of the Magnifique, and on the next day he started for Philadelphia. The America was reputed to be one of the most beautiful and effective ships afloat. Morris, who was a great admirer and an old friend of Jones, now desired to place him in command of that vessel which had been the object of his desire for so many years, the frigate Indien, which, by a queer combination of circumstances, had finally been brought to Philadelphia. The King of France, having no use for the ship, had lent her to the Chevalier de Luxembourg, who had entered into a business arrangement with a certain sea captain named Gillon, who was employed by the State of South Carolina to command a small naval force which had been equipped for the protection of her coasts, Gillon assuming the title of commodore. The Indien, now called the South Carolina, had been a rather fortunate cruiser. Gillon had captured a number of merchantmen, and had joined in another successful expedition to New Providence. He had then proceeded to Philadelphia. As he was indebted to the United States for advances of large sums of money, and as he had made no accounting to the Chevalier de Luxembourg for his share of the prizes, it was thought by Robert Morris and Luzerne, the French Minister, who represented Luxembourg, that if they could get control of this frigate, by placing it under Jones' command with other ships, they could create a formidable force to cruise against the enemy. But Gillon contrived to evade the legal process by which the claimants sought to insure the payment of their dues, and, in spite of the efforts made to detain him, he succeeded in carrying the Indien to sea, where she was promptly captured just as she cleared the capes of the Delaware by the Diomede, the Astrea, and the Quebec, three English frigates stationed particularly to intercept her. Disappointed again in his hope of getting a command by these untoward circumstances, Jones requested permission to embark as a volunteer in the squadron of De Vaudreuil, which was destined to take part in a proposed grand expedition to France and Spain against Jamaica. Morris forwarded Jones' request to Congress with a strong recommendation, and that body at once passed the following resolutions: "_Resolved_, That the agent of marine be informed that Congress, having a high sense of the merit and services of Captain J. P. Jones, and being disposed to favor the zeal manifested by him to acquire improvement in the line of his profession, do grant the permission which he requests, and that the said agent be instructed to recommend him accordingly to the countenance of his Excellency, the Marquis de Vaudreuil." Admiral de Vaudreuil was graciously pleased to receive the chevalier on his flagship, the Triomphante, where he treated him with the highest consideration, even sharing his cabin with him. The expedition came to nothing, and though Jones probably enjoyed ample opportunity for observing the handling of the fleet, he saw no actual service, to his great disappointment; instead of which he became seriously ill with intermittent fever. At Porto Cabello, on the 4th of April, 1783, he received the news of the signing of the treaty of peace, and this stern warrior, who was supposed to live only for fighting, thus expressed himself concerning the subject: "The most brilliant success, and the most instructive experience in war, could not have given me a pleasure comparable with that which I received when I learned that Great Britain had, after so long a contest, been forced to acknowledge the independence and sovereignty of the United States of America." Jones shortly thereafter left the French fleet and returned to Philadelphia, where he arrived on the 18th of May, 1783. He was still very ill. He carried with him the two following letters to the French Minister from de Vaudreuil and the Baron de Viomenil, who commanded the land forces on board the fleet. From the Marquis de Vaudreuil: "M. Paul Jones, who embarked with me, returns to his beloved country. I was very glad to have him. His well-deserved reputation caused me to accept his company with much pleasure, and I had no doubt that we should meet with some occasions in which his talents might be displayed. But peace, for which I can not but rejoice, interposes an obstacle which renders our separation necessary. Permit me, sir, to pray you to recommend him to his chiefs. The particular acquaintance I have formed with him since he has been on board the Triomphante makes me take a lively interest in his fortunes, and I shall feel much obliged if you find means of doing him services." From the Baron de Viomenil: "M. Paul Jones, who will have the honour of delivering to you, sir, this letter, has for five months deported himself among us with such wisdom and modesty as add infinitely to the reputation gained by his courage and exploits. I have reason to believe that he has preserved as much the feeling of gratitude and attachment toward France as of patriotism and devotion to the cause of America. Such being his titles to attention, I take the liberty of recommending to you his interests, near the President and Congress." He was in some doubt as to his future career, but for the present the state of his health rendered it necessary for him to abstain from active duty. As a matter of fact, there was practically no American navy in existence at the close of the war, and no duty for him to undertake. The commodore's constitution was much shattered, and the wasting fever still clung to him. He removed, therefore, by the advice of his physician, to the village of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, where he passed the summer in rest and retirement, and his health gradually improved under the careful treatment he received. He seems to have had in mind the project of settling down and forming an establishment somewhere, and marrying "some fair daughter of liberty," and he wrote to some friends in regard to an estate he desired to purchase near Newark, New Jersey. However, the design fell through, mainly because he was unable to realize upon his resources, as his expense account had not been paid by Congress, and no prize money was yet forthcoming. While awaiting the complete restoration of his health he prepared several plans for organizing a navy for the new country, all of which are distinguished by his usual insight and skill. Many of the plans, including the germ of a proposed naval academy in the shape of a school-ship filled with cadets, were adopted with profit to the naval service and the country in after years. But the new nation was too poor and the central government too weak at that time to accept any of these suggestions. Finally, by an act of Congress, dated November 1, 1783, in accordance with the report of a committee of which Mr. Arthur Lee was a member--singular revolution of time which put him in the position of upholding Jones!--he was appointed a special commissioner to solicit and receive the money due from France for the prizes taken by the Bon Homme Richard and his squadron. He was, of course, to act under the direction of the American Minister, Franklin, and was required to give bond to the amount of two hundred thousand dollars for the faithful performance of his duty. It is an evidence of his high reputation for probity and honor that he found no difficulty in securing signers to his bond. CHAPTER XVII. PRIZE AGENT IN FRANCE AND DENMARK--LAST VISIT TO THE UNITED STATES--A BLOT ON THE ESCUTCHEON--FAMOUS PASSAGE OF THE BALTIC. On the 10th of November Jones sailed from Philadelphia to Havre in the packet Washington. Being detained by contrary winds, however, he put into Plymouth on the 30th of November, his first visit to England, save as an enemy, for many years. He there left the ship and went to London for a conference with Adams, the minister, who informed him that his dispatches for Franklin probably contained instructions for concluding the commercial treaty with England, and advised him to hasten. He therefore repaired immediately to Paris, where he arrived on the 4th of December. He was most kindly received by the Maréchal de Castries, the new Minister of Marine, and by the king and queen. Society, too, welcomed him with open arms. He immediately set about the task which had been allotted to him, with his characteristic energy. For a year and a half he successfully combated the various efforts of the French Government to make deductions from the amount realized from the sale of the prizes on one pretext or another, and on the 23d of October, 1784, de Castries at last approved of the account. There were further delays, as usual, and the matter dragged until January, 1785, when he wrote to de Castries as follows: "From the great number of affairs more important that engage your attention, I presume this little matter which concerns me, in a small degree personally, but chiefly as the agent of the brave men who served under my orders in Europe, may have escaped your memory. My long silence is a proof that nothing but necessity could have prevailed on me to take the liberty of reminding your Excellency of your promise." As usual, his persistence at last received its reward in the shape of an order on the Royal Auditor at L'Orient for the money. He set out for L'Orient in July, and there stirred up a further nest of troubles, which, however, he managed to triumph over by the display of his usual qualities, and at the end of September, 1785, the account, amounting to one hundred and eighty-one thousand livres, etc., was paid to him.[39] He charged no commission for collecting this money, but his expenses for the period of his sojourn in France were placed at the large sum of forty-eight thousand livres; to this was added thirteen thousand livres as his share of the prize money, making a total of sixty-one thousand livres, which he appropriated to himself. After paying certain persons then living in France who were entitled to share in the prize money, he turned over to Thomas Jefferson, who had succeeded Franklin, the sum of one hundred and twelve thousand livres, to be returned to the United States for the use of the officers and men entitled to participate in the distribution. The charges that he made for his personal expenses were certainly very large, but there is not the slightest reason to infer, as has been insinuated, that he falsified the account--every reason to think the contrary, in fact. I have no doubt that he actually spent all that he claimed to have done--probably more, for he was as apt to spend as he was to fight--but the amount is greatly in excess of what should have been properly expended, or at least charged against the total for legitimate living expenses. As I have stated, however, he was supremely indifferent to money, his own or other people's, and it passed easily through his hands; although, so far as is known, he avoided debts and promptly paid his bills. He had great ideas as to the exalted nature of his position and the dignity of the country he represented, and he did not stint himself in anything. It was an expensive court, and he ruffled it royally with the best. He moved as an equal in an extravagant and gay society, and he allowed no considerations as to economy to restrain him from standing among the freest and highest. We need not censure him too severely in the premises, for the account was afterward investigated by Congress and his expenditures approved. During his long stay in France the fertile mind of the chevalier was busied with various projects to advance his fortunes, among which was a design which he conceived in conjunction with the famous navigator and explorer Ledyard, who had gone around the world with the more famous Captain Cook. The two men proposed to engage in the fur trade in the then comparatively unexplored and unknown waters of the Pacific Ocean. The affair assumed a considerable state of forwardness, but was finally dropped on account of lack of necessary funds, the expenses proving much greater than either of the projectors had imagined they would be. In view of the vast fortunes which have been made subsequently in pursuance of this very idea, the conception throws an interesting light upon the keen business quality of the commodore's mind.[40] As a light relaxation he had his bust made by the celebrated sculptor Houdon, copies of which he presented, with wide generosity, to a number of his friends. The bust was made at the instance of the French Masonic lodge of Three Sisters, of which he was an honored member. Early in 1787, upon the advice of Jefferson, he determined to repair to Denmark to see what he could do to further the payment of the claim for indemnity, amounting to forty thousand pounds, caused by the delivery of the prizes of his famous squadron to the English at Bergen. He had reached Brussels on his journey to Copenhagen when he decided to return to America for two reasons: In the first place, Jefferson had no authority to approve the account of the commodore in the matter of prize money recently received from France. He had simply acted as a medium of transmittal of the balance handed him to the United States. The Treasury Board of Audit, to which the account and the accompanying balance had been submitted, strongly disapproved of the large item covering personal expenses, and Jones, when he heard their views, felt it incumbent upon him to return to America immediately to insure the acceptance of his statement and the adjustment of the account. In the second place, another motive for his return was on account of lack of funds. He had expected to receive at Brussels remittances from some investments in bank stock in the United States to enable him to proceed to Copenhagen, but they were not forthcoming. It would appear that he had spent all of his prize money, etc., which indicates his careless extravagance in monetary matters.[41] Accordingly, he abandoned his Danish trip for the time, and returned to the United States in the spring of 1787. His explanations of his personal expenditures, while they may not have convinced the auditors, were apparently satisfactory to Congress, to which the matter had been referred, for his accounts were soon approved, and Congress did him a singular honor in passing the following resolutions, which certainly could never have been adopted if there had been in the minds of any of the members the least cloud upon his financial reputation: "_Resolved_, That a medal of gold be struck, and presented to the Chevalier Paul Jones in commemoration of the valor and brilliant service of that officer in the command of a squadron of American and French ships under the flag and commission of the United States, off the coast of Great Britain, in the late war; and that the Honourable Mr. Jefferson, Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States at the court of Versailles, have the same executed with the proper devices." The fact that eight years had elapsed since the event commemorated shows that this action of Congress was not the result of any sudden enthusiasm, but was deliberate and therefore more valuable. In addition to this unique tribute to his worth and services, the same august body addressed the following personal letter to the king, Louis XVI: "Great and beloved Friend: We, the United States, in Congress assembled, in consideration of the distinguished mark of approbation with which your Majesty has been pleased to honour the Chevalier John Paul Jones, as well as from a sense of his merit, have unanimously directed a medal of gold to be struck and presented to him, in commemoration of his valour and brilliant services while commanding a squadron of French and American ships, under our flag and commission, off the coast of Great Britain in the late war. "As it is his earnest desire to acquire knowledge in his profession, we cannot forbear requesting your Majesty to permit him to embark in your fleets of evolution, where only it will be probably in his power to acquire that knowledge, which may hereafter render him most extensively useful. "Permit us to repeat to your Majesty our sincere assurances that the various and important benefits for which we are indebted to your friendship will never cease to interest us in whatever may concern the happiness of your Majesty, your family, and people. We pray God to keep you, our great and beloved friend, under his holy protection. "Done at the City of New York, the sixteenth day of October, in the year of our Lord 1787, and of our sovereignty and independence the twelfth." This was presumably a reply to the official communication of De Sartine which has been cited before. So far as I know, Jones remains to this day the only officer so commended. Before this action of Congress he had written the following letter to Jay, the Secretary of State, which may have suggested the official letter to the French king: "... My private business here being already finished, I shall in a few days re-embark for Europe, in order to proceed to the court of Denmark. It is my intention to go by the way of Paris, in order to obtain a letter to the French Minister at Copenhagen, from the Count de Montmorin, as the one I obtained is from the Count de Vergennes. It would be highly flattering to me if I could carry a letter with me from Congress to his most Christian Majesty, thanking him for the squadron he did us the honour to support under our flag. And on this occasion, sir, permit me, with becoming diffidence, to recall the attention of my sovereign to the letter of recommendation I brought with me from the court of France dated 30th of May, 1780. It would be pleasing to me if that letter should be found to merit a place on the journals of Congress. Permit me also to entreat that Congress will be pleased to read the letter I received from the Minister of Marine, when his Majesty deigned to bestow on me a golden-hilted sword, emblematical of the happy alliance, an honour which his Majesty never conferred on any other foreign officer. . . . "It is certain that I am much flattered by receiving a gold sword from the most illustrious monarch now living; but I had refused to accept his commission on two occasions before that time, when some firmness was necessary to resist the temptation; he was not my sovereign. I served the cause of freedom, and honours from my sovereign would be more pleasing. Since the year 1775, when I displayed the American flag for the first time with my own hands, I have been constantly devoted to the interests of America. Foreigners have, perhaps, given me too much credit, and this may have raised my ideas of my services above their real value; but my zeal can never be overrated. "I should act inconsistently if I omitted to mention the dreadful situation of our unhappy fellow citizens in slavery at Algiers. Their almost hopeless fate is a deep reflection on our national character in Europe. I beg leave to influence the humanity of Congress in their behalf, and to propose that some expedient may be adopted for their redemption. A fund might be raised for that purpose by a duty of a shilling per month from seamen's wages throughout the continent, and I am persuaded that no difficulty would be made to that requisition." This is the first mention of a matter which had recently come to his notice, and ever after engaged his attention--the dreadful situation of the Americans held captive in the Barbary States. The first public agitation for the amelioration of their unfortunate condition came from him, and the glorious little struggle by which the United States, a few years after his death, broke the power of these pirates, and alone among the nations of the world made them respect a national flag, had its origin in the love and sympathy of Paul Jones for the prisoner wherever he might be--a significant fact generally forgotten. On the 25th of October Congress passed some strong resolutions on the subject of the failure of Denmark to pay the claim referred to above, and instructed Jefferson to dispatch the Chevalier Paul Jones to prosecute the claim at the Danish court, stating, however, that no final settlement or adjustment must be made without the approval of the minister. There was a decided difference between the two commissions with which Congress honored Jones. In the first instance, in France, he was simply to obtain what had been actually received by the French Government from the sale of certain prizes; the amount in question was not in negotiation save for some allowances or deductions which did not greatly affect the total one way or the other. In other words, he was simply to collect, if he could, a just and admitted debt, and, after deducting expenses, divide it in accordance with a certain recognized principle so far as his own share, or the share of any one in Europe, was concerned, and remit the balance to Congress for action. In the second instance, he was charged with the more delicate and responsible work of pressing a claim for heavy damages based on the estimated value of prizes which the Danish Government had illegally returned to their original owners, the whole transaction on their part constituting an unfriendly and unlawful act, which could easily be magnified into a _casus belli_. In the first case he was to collect a bill for forty thousand dollars; in the second, to secure an admittance of obligation, establish the justice of a claim for five times the first amount, and force a payment. The second commission was the more honorable because the more responsible, and is another proof of the continued and, in fact, increased confidence in him which was felt by Congress. The propriety, therefore, of associating him with Thomas Jefferson, by requiring the approval of the latter to any final settlements, can not be questioned. It can not be considered in any sense as a reflection upon Jones. It was the usual and common practice under such important circumstances to associate several negotiators to conduct the affair. The action was unfortunate, however, as it was made a pretext by the Danish Government for delaying the settlement. They had already compromised their contention of the legality of their action in giving up the ships by offering to settle with Franklin for ten thousand pounds, which offer had been refused. One other incident of his stay in his country--the last visit he was destined to pay to it, by the way--brings upon the scene for the last time one of the principal actors in the drama of Jones' life. During his stay in New York, in the month of October, he was conversing with a friend while standing on Water Street, when Captain Landais, who had made his home in Brooklyn since his dismissal from the navy, approached them. Jones' back was turned, and when Mr. Milligan, his friend, told him of the advent of the Frenchman, he continued his conversation without turning around. Landais approached slowly, wearing a vindictive smile. When a few yards away from the two gentlemen, he halted, spat upon the pavement, remarked, "I spit in his face," and passed on. Mr. Milligan asked Jones if he had heard Landais' remark, and he replied that he had not. Nothing further was said about the incident at that time. Landais, however, circulated reports of the meeting derogatory to Jones' character, and in reply the chevalier published a statement of the occurrence signed by Mr. Milligan, and added that his respect for the public had induced him to establish the falsity of Landais' report by the testimony of the only witness present; he also stated that he should not condescend to take notice of anything further which might be said or done by his antagonist. From this circumstance arose the rumor that he had been publicly insulted--caned, in fact--without resenting it![42] During this period Jones, as usual, kept up his correspondence, especially with Madame de Telison, with whom his relations had evidently reached that intimate point to which I have referred on page 276. On June 23d she advised him of the death of her friend and protectress at court, the Marquise de Marsan. He wrote immediately, commending her to Jefferson, and at once dispatched the following letter to the lady herself: "New York, _September 4, 1787_. "No language can convey to my fair mourner the tender sorrow I feel on her account! The loss of our worthy friend is indeed a fatal stroke! It is an irreparable misfortune, which can only be alleviated by this one reflection, that it is the will of God, whose providence has, I hope, other blessings in store for us. She was a tried friend, and more than a mother to you! She would have been a mother to me also had she lived. We have lost her! Let us cherish her memory, and send up grateful thanks to the Almighty that we once had such a friend. I can not but flatter myself that you have yourself gone to the king in July, as he had appointed. I am sure your loss will be a new inducement for him to protect you, and render you justice. He will hear you, I am sure; and you may safely unbosom yourself to him and ask his advice, which can not but be flattering to him to give you. Tell him you must look on him as your father and protector. If it were necessary, I think, too, that the Count d'A----, his brother, would, on your personal application, render you good services by speaking in your favour. I should like it better, however, if you can do without him. Mr. Jefferson will show you my letter of this date to him. You will see by it how disgracefully I have been detained here by the Board of Treasury. It is impossible for me to stir from this place till I obtain their settlement on the business I have already performed; and, as the season is already far advanced, I expect to be ordered to embark directly for the place of my destination in the north. Mr. Jefferson will forward me your letters. I am almost without money, and much puzzled to obtain a supply. I have written to Dr. Bancroft to endeavour to assist me. I mention this with infinite regret, and for no other reason than because it is impossible for me to transmit you a supply under my present circumstances. This is my fifth letter to you since I left Paris. The two last were from France, and I sent them by duplicates. But you say nothing of having received any letters from me! Summon, my dear friend, all your resolution! Exert yourself, and plead your own cause. You can not fail of success; your cause would move a heart of flint! Present my best respects to your sister. You did not mention her in your letter, but I persuade myself she will continue her tender care of her sweet godson, and that you will cover him all over with kisses from me; they come warm to _you both_ from the heart!" The Count d'A---- referred to was the Count d'Artois, subsequently King Charles X. Madame de Telison was his natural aunt, and that Jones should fear any evil consequence to her from her speaking to him is a hideous commentary on the morals of the times. Mackenzie infers the possibility that the Marchioness de Marsan was really the mother of Madame de Telison, and from the assurance that she would have been a mother to him also, had she lived, he thinks it possible that Jones might have contemplated marrying his correspondent. The godson was possibly Jones' own child. Shortly after this, correspondence with Madame de Telison ceased temporarily. But when Jones finally returned to France their relations were resumed. Before he died he provided for her, and she was with him to the end. On the 11th of November Jones left America for the last time, taking passage at New York on a vessel bound for Holland. He was landed in England, however, and after another interview with Adams at London, he repaired to Paris on the 11th of December, and presented his dispatches to Jefferson. Jefferson now communicated to him a project which had been under discussion between himself and de Simolin, the Russian ambassador at Versailles, looking to a demand for the services of Jones by the Empress Catherine II of Russia. Some recent disasters to the Russian fleet in the Black Sea in the war which she had been waging against the Turks had caused the minister to consider the possibility of securing the services of the distinguished sea captain. No definite action was taken by either party at that time, although Jones, after some persuasion, expressed his willingness at least to consider the situation. Indeed, the prospects were sufficiently brilliant to have dazzled any man; but nothing came of the matter then. Jones had other business to attend to. At the close of January, 1788, he received his credentials from Jefferson, and on the morning of the 2d of February, the day of his departure for Denmark, he breakfasted with a Mr. Littlepage, chamberlain to the King of Poland, and the Russian Minister, who informed him that he had seriously proposed to his sovereign that Jones be intrusted with the command of the Black Sea fleet. He had, in fact, written to her as follows: "That if her Imperial Majesty should confide to Jones the chief command of her fleet on the Black Sea, with _carte blanche_, he would answer for it that in less than a year Jones would make Constantinople tremble." He also informed the commodore that the empress had been much impressed with the proposition, and was disposed to look favorably upon it. Jones in reply said that he would undertake the command, under certain conditions, if the empress continued in the same mind, and set out with high hopes for Copenhagen. He reached that city on the 4th of March, and was royally received by the king and queen and principal people of the country; but in spite of every effort he found it utterly impossible to procure a satisfactory settlement of the claim. The shuffling Danish Government seized upon the flimsy pretext that he was not a plenipotentiary, since his powers were limited by the clause referred to above, and that since Congress had required that everything be referred to Paris, and final action should be taken at that point, there was no use negotiating with an agent. Completely thwarted in his attempts by this unfortunate clause, and having received a definite summons through Baron Krudner, the Russian ambassador at Copenhagen, to repair to Russia, Jones transferred the negotiations to Jefferson at Paris, which was, in fact, all he could do under the circumstances, and prepared to assume his new command.[43] On the 8th of April, 1788, he wrote to Jefferson as follows: "Sir: By my letters to the Count de Bernstorf, and his excellency's answer, you see that my business here is at an end. If I have not finally concluded the object of my mission, it is neither your fault nor mine; the powers I received are found insufficient, and you could not act otherwise than was prescribed in your instructions. Thus it frequently happens that good opportunities are lost when the supreme power does not place a sufficient confidence in the distant operations of public officers, whether civil or military. I have, however, the melancholy satisfaction to reflect that I have been received and treated here with a distinction far above the pretensions of my public mission, and I felicitate myself sincerely on being, at my own expense (and even at the peril of my life, for my sufferings from the inclemency of the weather, and my want of proper means to guard against it on the journey, were inexpressible; and I believe, from what I yet feel, will continue to affect my constitution), the instrument to renew the negotiation between this country and the United States; the more so as the honour is now reserved for you to display your great abilities and integrity by the completion and improvement of what Dr. Franklin had wisely begun. I have done, then, what perhaps no other person would have undertaken under the same circumstances; and while I have the consolation to hope that the United States will derive solid advantages from my journey and efforts here, I rest perfectly satisfied that the interests of the brave men I commanded will experience in you parental attention, and that the American flag can lose none of its lustre, but the contrary, while its honour is confided to you. America being a young nation, with an increasing commerce, which will naturally produce a navy, I please myself with the hope that in the treaty you are about to conclude with Denmark you will find it easy and highly advantageous to include certain articles for admitting America into the armed neutrality. I persuade myself beforehand that this would afford pleasure to the Empress of Russia, who is at the head of that noble and humane combination; and as I shall now set out immediately for St. Petersburg, I will mention the idea to her Imperial Majesty and let you know her answer. "If Congress should think I deserve the promotion that was proposed when I was last in America, and should condescend to confer on me the grade of rear admiral from the day I took the Serapis (23d of September, 1779), I am persuaded it would be very agreeable to the empress, who now deigns to offer me an equal rank in her service, although I never yet had the honour to draw my sword in her cause, nor to do any other act that could directly merit her imperial benevolence. While I express, in the warm effusion of a grateful heart, the deep sense I feel of my eternal obligation to you as the author of the honourable prospect that is now before me, I must rely on your friendship to justify to the United States the important step I now take, conformable to your advice. You know I had no idea of this new fortune when I found that you had put it in train, before my last return to Paris from America. I have not forsaken a country that has had many disinterested and difficult proofs of my steady affection, and I can never renounce the glorious title of _a citizen of the United States!_ "It is true I have not the express permission of the sovereignty to accept the offer of her Imperial Majesty; yet America is independent, is in perfect peace, has no public employment for my military talents; but why should I excuse a conduct which I should rather hope would meet with general approbation? In the latter part of the year 1782 Congress passed an act for my embarkation in the fleet of his most Christian Majesty; and when, a few months ago, I left America to return to Europe, I was made the bearer of a letter to his most Christian Majesty requesting me to be permitted to embark in the fleets of evolution. Why did Congress pass those acts? To facilitate my improvement in the art of conducting fleets and military operations. I am, then, conforming myself to the views of Congress; but the role allotted me is infinitely more high and difficult than Congress intended. Instead of receiving lessons from able masters in the theory of war, I am called to immediate practice, where I must command in chief, conduct the most difficult operations, be my own preceptor, and instruct others. Congress will allow me some merit in daring to encounter such multiplied difficulties. The mark I mentioned of the approbation of that honourable body would be extremely flattering to me in the career I am now to pursue, and would stimulate all my ambition to acquire the necessary talents to merit that, and even greater favours, at a future day. I pray you, sir, to explain the circumstances of my situation, and be the interpreter of my sentiments to the United States in Congress. I ask for nothing; and beg leave to be understood only as having hinted, what is natural to conceive, that the mark of approbation I mentioned could not fail to be infinitely serviceable to my views and success in the country where I am going. "The prince royal sent me a messenger, requesting me to come to his apartment. His royal highness said a great many civil things to me--told me the king thanked me for my attention and civil behaviour to the Danish flag while I commanded in the European seas, and that his Majesty wished for occasions to testify to me his personal esteem, etc. I was alone with the prince half an hour. I am, with perfect esteem, etc." It is a quaint letter, but not conspicuous for modesty on the part of the writer. But it is memorable for its passionate and determined assertion of citizenship, and evidence that his entry into the Russian service, temporarily, was due not to his own motion, but to the suggestion of Thomas Jefferson, who highly approved of his acceptance of the offer of Catherine. Inasmuch as his action has been called in question, such approbation as that of Jefferson is of great value. Congress did not confer upon him the desired rank, as should have been done, and, besides, his statement was not quite correct. Krudner had offered him the rank of captain commandant, equal to that of major general in the army, and placed at his disposal one thousand ducats for the expenses of his journey. He promptly demurred at the proposed rank of captain commandant, or major general, and refused to accept the sum offered for his traveling expenses. It was forced upon him by the insistence of Krudner, however, and he finally received it. He made no use of it at that time, keeping the money intact, and intending to return it in case he should find it necessary on his arrival in Russia to decline the proffered station. He made but few stipulations with her Majesty's agent before entering upon the journey to St. Petersburg, and these were that in the service of the empress he should never be compelled to bear arms against either the United States or France; that he should be at all times subject to recall by Congress; and, as we have seen in his letter to Jefferson, he was particular to assert that under no circumstances would he renounce "the glorious title of a citizen of the United States." The man of the world and the disinterested lover of human liberty had long since come to a local habitation and name, and henceforth he never failed to assert his citizenship in America. As he left the court of Denmark and entered upon his journey to Russia he carried in his pocket a patent for a pension issued to him by the Danish Government for the sum of fifteen hundred crowns a year, which was presented to him as an acknowledgment of the "respect he had shown to the Danish flag while he commanded in the North Sea," etc.! Curiously enough, the pension is dated the day it was decided to transfer to Paris the negotiations which he had come to further. The transaction is a most peculiar one. The coincidence of dates is, to say the least, unfortunate. The reasons assigned are inadequate, and the statement of cause is puerile. For a negotiator to accept pecuniary reward from the person against whom he presses a claim is a very remarkable thing to do. It has been urged in justification of his acceptance: First, that he never received any money from it, for the pension was never paid; that, however, was a fact which, while it was potential, was not then actual, and has no bearing upon his acceptance. Second, it has also been claimed that the pension was given because the Danish Government supposed such an evidence of appreciation of the qualities of her appointee would be acceptable to the empress; but if a nice sense of honor would dictate a refusal of the pension, the bestowal could not be considered a compliment, therefore the acceptance could not enhance his reputation. Third, it has been ingeniously surmised that his acceptance of the pension was for the purpose of committing the Danish Government to the payment of the claim; but if that were true, he should have communicated his acceptance and his reasons to Jefferson at once. The fact that the government absolutely refused to conclude negotiations with him, and that he was of necessity obliged to permit the transfer of the negotiations to Paris, takes away some of the odium which attaches to his action, yet it does not completely clear him. As the Russian prospect had matured he was more and more desirous of quitting Denmark, and the transfer of the claim to Paris quite accorded with his wishes. This is the most painful incident in his career, and I am extremely sorry that it occurred. I do not suppose that he realized the situation quite as it is presented in these pages, or that he imagined it would have so damaging an effect upon his reputation when it became known. His valuation of his own services was so high that it was not difficult to persuade him--or for him to persuade himself--that he was entitled to a pension, or at least that it was not out of keeping with his merits. Though how he had ever shown any particular respect for the Danish flag when he commanded the Bon Homme Richard is a question. Two circumstances incline me to believe that he was ashamed of it, however, and that he had no primary intention of making use of it. His vanity might lead him to treasure it as an evidence of appreciation, where his sense of honor would restrain him from enjoying it. Of these two circumstances, the first is that he never mentioned it to anybody for three years, and he was never chary of letting the news of evidences of appreciation be disseminated; the second is that he made no attempt to draw anything on it until he was a sick, worn-out, broken man, some years after, when he looked at life under different circumstances and with different eyes. His letter to Jefferson, when he finally did communicate the news to him three years after, is as follows: "The day before I left Copenhagen the Prince Royal had desired to speak with me in his apartment. His Royal Highness was extremely polite, and after saying many civil things remarked he hoped I was satisfied with the attention that had been shown to me since my arrival, and that the king would wish to give me some mark of his esteem. 'I have never had the happiness to render any service to his Majesty!' 'That is nothing; a man like you ought to be excepted from ordinary rules. You could not have shown yourself more delicate as regards our flag, and every person here loves you.' I took leave without further explanation. I have felt myself in an embarrassing situation with regard to the king's patent, and I have not yet made use of it, though three years have nearly elapsed since I received it." It is all that he could say for himself. I am glad he had the grace at last to be ashamed. That is the best defense that I can make for him, and I can only close the reference to this unpleasant incident by saying again that I am very sorry indeed that it occurred. About the middle of April, 1788, he set forth for Stockholm, where, on account of his desire to reach St. Petersburg without delay, he remained but a few hours, and then pressed on to Grislehamn (Gresholm), Sweden, the nearest port to the Aland Islands, _via_ which he hoped to cross the Gulf of Bothnia and reach Russia. The ice, however, was so thick that he found it impossible to cross the gulf or even to reach the islands, so he determined to pass through the open Baltic Sea to the southward. He hired an open boat about thirty feet long, and, taking a smaller boat in tow, to be used in case of emergency, he started upon a journey which proved to be one of the most romantic and adventurous of his whole career. Realizing that in the severe winter weather prevailing it would be impossible to get boatmen to attempt the passage, he carefully concealed his destination from the men whom he had employed to ferry him over. Having first attempted once more to reach the Aland Islands, and thence proceed to the Gulf of Finland, and being balked as before by heavy masses of drifting ice, he started to the southward between the Swedish shore and the ice floes, which, being driven toward Sweden by a strong east wind, scarcely left him a sufficient channel to pass in safety. By nightfall he was nearly opposite Stockholm, and the water seemed clear enough to seaward for him to attempt to cross. The men, by this time alarmed for their safety, determined, in defiance of his orders, to put into Stockholm; but Jones, seizing the helm himself and drawing his pistols, resolutely commanded them to beat out to sea and obey his orders under pain of instant death. He was not a man to be trifled with by a few Swedish boatmen, and by his directions the terrified men headed the boat offshore. The wind fortunately shifted to the westward, and during the whole of the long night, in the midst of a driving snowstorm, they threaded their way through the floating ice, steering for the Gulf of Finland. Jones had a pocket compass, and the lantern from his traveling carriage enabled him to choose the course. He naturally took command of the boats himself. The next day, baffled again by the ice in an attempt to land on the north shore of the Gulf of Finland, they continued to the westward and southward under circumstances of extreme danger and hardship. The second night was worse than the first. The wind came in violent squalls, and the cold was intense. The second boat was crushed in the ice floes, and the men in it rescued with great difficulty. Their own boat narrowly escaped being crushed between the huge pieces of ice or swamped in the squalls on several occasions. Only by Jones' seamanship and rare skill did they avoid one or the other danger. The men were so terrified as to be helpless between the storm, the cold, and the thought of the incarnate little demon who sat grimly in the stern sheets, pistol in hand, and neither slept nor took rest apparently, and who handled the boat with as much dexterity as if it had been a toy. One thinks instinctively of the little bark which could not sink because it carried Cæsar and his fortunes. At any rate, after four days of incredible difficulties the passage was made, and the boat landed at Reval, a Russian port on the southern shore of the Gulf of Finland. They had sailed in one way and another about five hundred miles. Those who had known of his departure from Sweden had no thought but that he and all with him had perished in the attempt. He was, as he stated to Jefferson, in wretched health, and the exposure alone might have killed him. That he went on is highly characteristic of him, and exhibits his entire indifference to personal hardships. The passage presents a fine evidence of his audacity. When he determined to do a thing, he never allowed anything to stop him. Having paid the boatmen for the loss of their boat, and remunerated them handsomely for their labors, he dismissed them to return at their leisure, and proceeded to the Russian court, where he arrived on the fourth day of May. His great reputation, his adventurous passage, his strange and attractive personality, and the fact that he stood high in the good graces and enjoyed the favor of the empress, rendered him an object of universal interest and attraction. On the 6th of May he was presented to the empress, who immediately conferred upon him the rank he coveted, of rear admiral. Catherine treated him with such distinction that he states in his journal that "I was overcome by her courtesies (_je me laissai seduire_), and put myself into her hands without making any stipulation for my personal advantage. I demanded but one favor, that I should never be condemned unheard." Poor fellow! It was the one right--not favor, but rights went by favor then in Russia--which was not accorded him. He little knew what the future that looked so promising had in store for him, but for the present everything was most delightful. He remained, recuperating and preparing for his command, for two weeks, during which period he was magnificently entertained by the highest nobility of Russia and the distinguished foreigners in attendance at the court. Among his papers the cards of many of them are still preserved. There was one exception to his welcome. The English officers in the service of Catherine, and they were many in number and high in quality, affected to describe him as a pirate and a smuggler, and are said to have threatened to resign in a body rather than serve under his command. While I have no doubt as to their feelings, I think it improbable that the threat was ever seriously meant, or that it reached the ears of the empress, for two reasons: first, it was apparently never contemplated that Jones should command the Cronstadt fleet, in which those Englishmen who were highest in rank and reputation were stationed--he had been designated for the Black Sea fleet, and specifically called into service to war against the Turks; and second, it is extremely unlikely that they should have carried such a threat to the throne, for Catherine was not one whom it was safe to threaten for a moment. Such an action in all probability would have resulted in an apology and retraction, or a call for a resignation. It is most improbable that the English protesters would have relinquished the honorable and lucrative positions to which they had attained in the Russian service, with the great opportunities of advancement and pecuniary reward presented, for such a cause. As a matter of fact, Englishmen did serve with credit under Jones' command in the Black Sea, and we hear of no resignations from his squadron there. The story may have gained currency by the gossipy repetition of indiscreet remarks about the court, and from the fact that thirty of the English-Russian officers signed a memorial addressed to Admiral Grieg, their senior in rank, threatening various things if they were associated with Jones. It is hardly possible, however, that Catherine ever saw or heard the petition. At any rate, nothing came of it. Jones enjoyed the anger of the English--he would not have been human if he had not--but as for the rest, he snapped his fingers at them. He could afford to defy them at that hour. He was then in the "high topgallant of his fortunes." In a letter to Lafayette he writes, apropos of this feeling: "The empress received me with a distinction the most flattering that perhaps any stranger can boast of. On entering into the Russian service her Majesty conferred on me immediately the grade of rear admiral. I was detained against my will a fortnight, and continually feasted at court, and in the first society. This was a cruel grief to the English, and I own that their vexation, which I believe was general in and about St. Petersburg, gave me no pain." As I have said, I have no doubt as to the feelings of the English officers. On the 18th of May the admiral left St. Petersburg for Elizabethgrad, the headquarters of Patiomkine. In addition to the sum recently received from Krudner, he was provided with an other purse of two thousand ducats for the expenses of his journey, and his salary was fixed at eighteen hundred roubles a year.[44] As he started for the Black Sea, Catherine handed him this letter: "Sir: A courier from Paris has just brought from my envoy in France, M. de Simolin, the inclosed letter to Count Besborodko. As I believe that this letter may help to confirm to you what I have already told you verbally, I have sent it, and beg you to return it, as I have not even had it copied, so anxious am I that you should see it. I hope that it will efface all doubts from your mind, and prove to you that you are to be connected only with those who are most favorably disposed toward you. I have no doubt that, on your side, you will fully justify the opinion which we have formed of you, and apply yourself with zeal to support the reputation you have acquired, for valor and skill, on the element on which you are to serve. "Adieu! I wish you happiness and health. "Catherine." The letter to Besborodko referred to by Catherine was a request from Patiomkine that Jones might be induced to come immediately to his headquarters, that his talents might be employed in the approaching campaign. Patiomkine promised to to do all in his power to give him an opportunity for displaying his ability and courage,[45] Jones had protested against being under anybody; Catherine refused to consider his protest, hence the reason for her farewell epistle and her inclosure of Patiomkine's promise to be all that he should be to Jones. He arrived at Elizabethgrad on the 30th of May and was most kindly received. But before entering upon the story of his campaign it will be well to consider the situation of the country in which he found himself, and the characters of those with whom he was to be associated in service. _Note with reference to the Danish pension_. The most recent biographer of Paul Jones, whose book was issued simultaneously with this one, makes no mention of the Danish pension, and states that his reasons for omitting any reference to it were "because it was never accepted, never paid, and never was intended to be paid." I am forced to disagree with this statement. Certainly, it never was paid, though what the Danish government may have intended it is impossible to say. Probably if Jones had continued in favor in Russia the pension would have been paid. Certainly the commodore accepted the pension, and he endeavored to procure its payment, and estimated it as an asset in the schedule of property which accompanied his will. See Appendix V, page 473. CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE RUSSIAN SERVICE--OTCHAKOFF AND THE CAMPAIGN IN THE LIMAN. Far to the north is Russia. Extending through no less than one hundred and seventy-three degrees of longitude, and covering forty parallels of latitude, from the Baltic to the Pacific, and from the Black Sea to the Arctic Ocean, with an area of eight and a half million square miles, lies this great lone land. This gigantic empire, touching on the one hand the ice-bound shores of Nova Zembla, and on the other the caravan trails of Bokhara, stretches from the Gulf of Finland in the west to Kamtchatka on the east. Within its boundaries are comprised bleak deserts and fertile plains. Verdant valleys, unscalable mountains, and vast steppes break the monotony of the landscape, and diversify a surface watered by great rivers from the arctic Yenisei to the Oriental Oxus. Great among the powers is this mysterious Colossus, her head white with the snows of eternal winter and her feet laved in the sunlight of tropic streams. The land of the seafarers--so its name indicates--developing enormously and steadily in power, wealth, and civilization, in the nine hundred years which have elapsed since Rurik the Viking first stepped upon its shores, has not yet reached its zenith. It is to-day the home of more diverse nationalities than any other existent country, and foreshadowings of unlimited predominance are apparent. Its sway extends over more races and peoples than any other power has governed since the days of Augustus Cæsar, and the end is not yet. Well do its rulers arrogate to themselves the imperial title of the ancient head of the Roman Empire. Holy Russia, the home of the Orthodox Church, the country of the White Czar, the land of the once despised Slav, yet contains within its borders, in Lithuania, the focal point of that Aryan race which has filled Europe with its splendor. This Russia, the land of the Tartar, the Mongol, the Samoyede, the Cossack, the Finn, and the Pole; this Russia, the land of Ivan the Terrible, of Peter the Great, was now in the hands of a woman--of Catherine II. The little maiden, born on the 2d of May, 1729, in the quaint old town of Stettin, and of the insignificant house of Anhalt-Zerbst, christened Sophia, was received into the Greek Church on her marriage with Peter of Holstein, grandson of the Romanoff Peter the Great, under the name of Catherine. She had assumed the reins of government after the murder of her wretched impotent husband, against whom she had conspired in conjunction with the Orloffs. When she had deposed and imprisoned him, unable to strike a blow for himself, he had stipulated that in his confinement he might have the undisputed enjoyment of his mistress, his monkey, and his violin! Even these kingly pleasures were soon of little use to him, for on the 18th of July, 1762, but a few days after the revolution which had hurled him from his throne, Peter lay dead in the palace with some ominous and ineffaceable black marks around his throat, telling of the manner of his death from the giant hands of the terrible Orloffs--and his wife was privy to the murder and consenting to it! That her husband had been a knave and a fool--almost a madman--does not excuse her. Catherine was then immediately proclaimed empress in her own right. As the Neapolitan Caraccioli said, the Russian throne was neither hereditary nor elective, but occupative! Catherine occupied it, and as long as she lived Russia knew no other master. The world marveled at her audacity, and trembled for the consequences of her usurpation, but men soon found that, gigantic as had been her assurance, and tremendous as was her task, she was entirely equal to the undertaking. She had a genius for reigning as great as had been exhibited by Elizabeth Tudor--good Queen Bess! In spite of her bad qualities and evil beginning, Russia never progressed more than while under her sway. She fairly divides honor as a sovereign, in Slavonic history, with Peter the Great. True it is that Catherine had "woven out of the bloody vestments of Peter III the most magnificent imperial mantle that a woman had ever worn." Some one wrote to Madame Vigée le Brun, who essayed to paint her picture: "Take the map of the empire of Russia for canvas, the darkness of ignorance for background, the spoils of Poland for drapery, human blood for coloring, the monuments of her reign for the cartoon, and for the shadow six months of her son's reign." A singular and complex character was that of this famous despot, this "Semiramis of the North." Never more than a half-educated woman--and in that she corresponded with her empire--she learned her politics from Montesquieu, drew her philosophy of life from Voltaire, and shaped her morals after Brantôme! A creature of singular contradictions, she loved liberty, favored the struggle of the United States, and ruled an absolute despot; she wrote charming fairy tales for children and rode horseback astride like a man; she was one of the greatest sticklers for morals--in other people--the world has ever known, and yet was herself one of the most colossal examples of unblushing and shameless professional sensuality that ever sat upon a throne. Other rulers and sovereigns have had their favorites, she alone made favoritism a state institution. "What has ruined the country," she naïvely writes, "is that the people fall into vice and drunkenness, and the comic opera has corrupted the whole nation!" As a corrupter by example she surpassed all the comic operas ever written. The morals of Russia, in her day, were rotten from the head downward. Yet in spite of all this she was a great princess. She was allowed to occupy that throne because she made Russia greater with each successive year; not alone by force of arms either, and the Russian destiny makers loved her. Education, the arts, and sciences, all felt the stimulus of her interest and responded to her efforts. Progress was the word of this imperious woman. She had a faculty for ruling as remarkable as her exploitation of favoritism. Yet she governed her empire with a sublime indifference to public opinion, and squandered its revenues in a shameless prostitution of her own person, which ceased only with her death, in 1794, at the age of sixty-five! The fact that Catherine made an official business out of favoritism, and that she was so utterly oblivious to the moral inconsistency of it--for she was a faithful member of the Holy Orthodox Church--seems to lift it upon a plane of its own, so simple and brazen was it. Upon the chief of her favorites alone she had bestowed more than fifty million roubles, vast estates carrying with them nearly one hundred thousand serfs, and in addition orders, titles, privileges, and decorations innumerable. The name of this favorite was Gregory Alexandrovitch Patiomkine, commonly called Potemkin. He was the second of the great _Vremienchtchick_, as the favorites were called, the word meaning "men of the moment!" He succeeded the gigantic Orloff, whose term as the favorite was longer than that of any successor, for he had enjoyed a tenure of almost ten years--the usual period being about two. Patiomkine's personal association with the empress was only for that short time, when he was supplanted by another object of royal regard. Unlike all the other favorites, Patiomkine was not relegated to prompt obscurity, and he continued to be the power behind the throne for practically the remainder of his life. He was greater than all the others--too great to be done away with, in fact. If he could not be the favorite, he would, like Warwick the kingmaker, make the favorite, and for fifteen years he continued to do so. During this period he swayed the destinies of the empire as a sort of mayor of the palace. The analogy is not altogether accurate, for Catherine was no supine Merovingian to commit the administration of the state to others while she passed hours of dalliance in the secret chambers of the palace; she was too strong and too great for that, and she always retained her grasp upon the helm; but it is certain that none of her favorites had ever enjoyed such power and wielded it so openly as this princely pander. As to Patiomkine himself, the world did not know whether he was a genius or a madman. At times he seems to have passed over that slender line which divides these two antitheses of character, and appears now on one side, now on the other. Personally he was a man of huge bulk and great strength, with the natural instincts of an animal and a veneer, more or less strong on occasion, of refinement. He, too, typified Russia, a giant rising through barbarism into the civilization of the century--and not yet arrived, either--now inclining to the one side or the other. Catherine usually chose her favorites among men of great physical vigor. Patiomkine was a giant in size. His vast frame was capable of sustaining the most tremendous hardships. He was a black-haired, swarthy, hot-tempered man, not pleasant to look upon, for he had lost an eye in a fist fight after a drunken revel with the Orloffs. He squinted with the other, and even had not a figure to redeem him, for he was markedly knock-kneed. He, like his mistress and his country, was a creature of contradictions. In his palace in St. Petersburg we find him trifling with the most delicate creations of the most skilled _chef_, and on his journeys eating rapaciously of anything that came to hand. He sent his adjutants thousands of miles for perfumes which caught his fancy, and galloped madly himself across half Europe without rest or sleep for days in pursuance of duty, and then spent weeks in dalliance with his harem. With the one hand he wrote poetic letters that quiver and thrill with tenderness and beauty, pathos and passion, and with the other he calmly consigned thousands of people to death. One day we find him raging because his soldiers are not better cared for, and on the next day remarking cynically, when the absence of ambulances was brought to his notice, that so much the better--they would not have to bother with the wounded! Sometimes cowardly, sometimes bold to the point of recklessness; atheist and devotee, debauchee and ascetic, coarse and refined, imperious and cringing, brutal and gentle, king and slave, Christian and pagan--his life remains a mystery. After he died of a frightful attack of indigestion, brought on by gorging himself with coarse food, Catherine's son, upon succeeding to the throne, treated his body with great indignity; and it was not until seventy years later that his remains were discovered and interred in the Cathedral of Kherson. Prince of Taurida, the conqueror of the Crimea, and under Catherine the originator of that tremendous and irresistible Russian policy which will some day replace the Greek cross upon the temple of Justinian in Constantinople, Patiomkine is one of the most remarkable figures in the history of the world. In the service of the first of these two personages, and under the specific orders of the last, Paul Jones was to make a campaign. It was foredoomed to failure. Jones was not a good subordinate to any one. His temper, his lack of self-control, his pride, and his vanity rendered any ultimate successful association with a man like Patiomkine impossible. Patiomkine had all Jones' faults and a thousand more. They harmonized like flint and steel. To further complicate matters, Jones was to be associated in his command, with the limits of authority not clearly defined between them--always a prolific source of trouble, and certain to cause failure--with Prince Otto of Nassau-Siegen, of whom we have heard before. He had asked to serve under Jones in the Indien, and when that project fell through he had failed to answer Jones' letters, and had treated him with discourtesy and indifference. In Catherine's army and navy thousands of soldiers of fortune found a congenial atmosphere and a golden opportunity. They were all made welcome, and, with anything like success to warrant them, they generally achieved a handsome reward in her generous service. The most noted among them, and one of the most worthless, is this man, whom Waliszewski calls "the last notable _condottierre_ of Europe; a soldier without country, without home, and almost without family, his very name is the first of his conquests." His father was the illegitimate son of a princeling, but the Parliament of Paris, in 1756, gave the young Otto, then eleven years of age, the right, so far as they had the power, to bear the name of his ancestors, to which he had no legitimate claim. They could not, however, do anything for his patrimony. He had been a lieutenant of infantry, a captain of dragoons, and finally a sailor under Bougainville when he made his famous voyage around the world. Later he appears as an unsuccessful explorer in Africa. In fact, he was not successful at anything. Unlike Crichton, he did everything equally ill. In 1779, as a colonel of French infantry, he made an unsuccessful attempt upon the island of Jersey. The next year, in the Spanish service, he commanded, unsuccessfully as usual, some floating batteries before Gibraltar. Among other exploits--and it was his one triumph--he seduced the Queen of Tahiti, so he said, and the reputation of the unfortunate lady found no defenders in Europe. He married a homely Polish countess with a great fortune, and after meddling (unsuccessfully) with all sorts of things got himself appointed to the command of a flotilla of Russian gunboats operating against the Turks. But to return to the story; the long distance--seven hundred and fifty miles as the crow flies and probably twice that by road--between St. Petersburg and Elizabethgrad, was covered by Jones in twelve days. He was in a hurry, as always, to get to sea. The object of the Prince Marshal's attack was the fortified town of Otchakoff, commonly spelled in contemporary manuscripts Oczakow. This important place was situated on the Russo-Turkish frontier of that day, on the Black Sea, not far from the present city of Odessa, and occupied a commanding position at the confluence of the great river Dnieper and the smaller river Bug. Southward of the mainland the peninsula of Kinburn, a narrow, indented point of land, projects for perhaps twenty miles to the westward, forming a narrow estuary of the Black Sea about fifty miles long and from five to ten miles wide, into which the two rivers pour their vast floods. This estuary is sometimes called the Dnieper Bay, but more commonly the Liman, and the undertaking hereafter described is referred to as the campaign in the Liman. The bay or inlet is very shallow. Sand banks and shoals leave but a narrow, tortuous channel, which is of no great depth at best. The end of the peninsula of Kinburn terminates in a long and very narrow strip of land, a point which reaches up toward the northward and almost closes the opening of the estuary; the distance between the point and Fort Hassan, the southernmost fortification of Otchakoff, is possibly two miles. This narrow entrance is further diminished by a long shoal which extends south from Fort Hassan toward the point, so that, except for one contracted channel, the passage is practicable for vessels of very light draught only. Otchakoff lies between the Bug and a smaller river called the Beresan, deep enough near its mouth for navigation by small vessels. It was strongly fortified and garrisoned by ten thousand men. While it remained in the hands of the Turks it menaced the Russian communications and rendered it difficult for them to hold the great peninsula of Taurida, now known as the Crimea, which Patiomkine had conquered previously, and from which he had taken the name of Taurichevsky, or Tauricien, or Taurida, with his dukedom. Patiomkine, therefore, decided to besiege and capture this place. To prevent this, the Turks had re-enforced it by one hundred and twenty armed vessels, ranging from ships of the line to gunboats, under the command of one of the ablest of their admirals, a distinguished old sailor, who had been recalled from service in Egypt, which had been brilliantly successful, to conduct this operation. So long as they could keep open communication by sea with Otchakoff its power of resistance would be prolonged and its capture a matter of extreme difficulty. The object of Jones' campaign was to hold the Liman till Patiomkine could invest Otchakoff, then to defeat the Turkish naval forces in the bay, and to blockade the town. Incidentally he was required to cover the Russian towns on the Dnieper and prevent any descent upon them by the Turks; a hard task for any man with the force available and likely to be placed under his command. Having stayed but one day at Elizabethgrad, Jones, accompanied by one of the staff officers of Patiomkine, set out for Kherson, which is located near the point where the Dnieper enters the Liman, and is the principal Russian naval depot in that section of the country. The two officers spent but one day at Kherson, but the time was sufficient to develop the fact, as Jones said, that he had entered "on a delicate and disagreeable service." Mordwinoff, the Russian Chief of Admiralty, treated him with the utmost coolness and indifference, and, though he had been ordered by Patiomkine to give Jones full information as to the situation, he told him nothing of importance, and even failed to provide him with a rear admiral's flag, to which he was entitled. However, the day after his arrival at Kherson, Jones repaired to the town of Gluboca, off which, in one of the deeps of the river between the Dnieper and the mouth of the Bug called Schiroque Roads, his command was anchored. It comprised a single line of battle ship, the Wolodimer--which, on account of its great draught and the shoal water of the Liman, could only mount twenty-six guns--five frigates, five sloops of war, and four smaller vessels, making a total of fifteen sail.[46] The ships were badly constructed, "drew too much water for the navigation of the Black Sea, were too crank to carry the heavy guns that were mounted on them, and sailed badly." They were makeshift craft constructed by people who since Rurik's advent have exhibited surprisingly little aptitude for the sea. I can imagine Jones' disgust and disappointment as he inspected his squadron with a seaman's quick and comprehensive glance. In addition to this force, there was a large flotilla of light-draught gunboats, each carrying a single heavy gun, and sometimes smaller pieces, manned by from thirty to forty men each, and propelled mainly by oars. The command of the flotilla had been committed to the Prince of Nassau-Siegen, and, although Jones had been repeatedly assured that he was to have supreme charge of all naval operations in the Liman, he found that Nassau exercised an independent command, and instead of being subordinate to him, had only been requested to co-operate with him. Jones' command will be called the squadron, Nassau's the flotilla, hereafter in these pages, to prevent confusion. The squadron had been hitherto under the command of a cowardly Greek corsair named Alexiano, reputed a Turkish subject, who had attained the rank of captain commandant, or brigadier, equivalent to commodore. He was a man of little capacity, great timidity, and was tricky and unreliable in his disposition. Jones immediately proceeded on board the Wolodimer and exhibited his orders. He found that Alexiano had assembled all the commanders of the ships, and endeavored to persuade them to rebel against his authority. The attempted cabal came to nothing, however, and on receiving a letter from Patiomkine Alexiano relinquished the command to Jones, and with a very ill grace consented to serve as his subordinate--he had to. On the same day in which he arrived, in order to ascertain the topography of the situation, Jones left the Wolodimer and rode over to Kinburn Point, opposite Otchakoff. After a careful examination of the water which he was to defend and the town he was to blockade, so far as he could make it from the shore, he returned to the Wolodimer, and finding, as he says, "all the officers contented," he hoisted his rear admiral's flag on that ship on the evening of the 6th of June, 1788.[47] The Prince of Nassau-Siegen called upon him promptly, and apparently recognized his superiority in rank, if not his right to command. He had an immediate foretaste of the character of his new associates when the prince informed him that if they gained any advantage over the Turks it would be necessary to exaggerate it to the utmost! Jones replied that he had never adopted that method of heightening his personal merits. He might have added that a true recital of his exploits was sufficiently dazzling to need no embellishment by the wildest imagination. The celebrated General Suvorof was in command of the strong fortress of Kinburn, which was supposed to command the entrance of the Liman, but it was too far inland to menace Otchakoff, or, indeed, to command anything effectively. It is an evidence of Jones' quick perception and fine military instinct that as soon as he inspected the position he discovered the advantage of placing a battery on Kinburn Point, opposite the shoal to which I have referred: and his first act upon assuming the command was to point out to Suvorof, who was perhaps the greatest of all Russian soldiers, the absolute necessity for a battery there. Realizing the fact, Suvorof immediately mounted a formidable battery on the point, and he magnanimously credited Jones with the idea, in spite of the fact that the previous neglect to fortify the point was a reflection on his military skill. Before the guns were in position the capitan pasha as the Turkish admiral was styled, with twenty-one frigates and sloops of war, and several smaller vessels, entered the Liman and anchored before Otchakoff. He was followed by a flotilla of gunboats about equal in number and individual efficiency to the Russian flotilla. The ships of the line and heavier frigates of the Turks, unable to approach near the town, remained at anchor in the open roads to the westward, and as they took no part in the subsequent actions they may be dismissed from further notice. Even as it was, however, the Turkish force greatly overmatched the Russian. Jones had fifteen ships, the Turks twenty-one, and ship for ship the advantage was entirely in favor of the Turks. In number the two flotillas of gunboats were about the same, and there was not much choice in their quality. The poor quality of Nassau's leadership could hardly be surpassed by any Turk, however incompetent, but the capitan pasha in critical moments led his own flotilla, and, as Jones practically did the same for the Russian gunboats, Nassau's incompetency did not matter so much as it might. On the 9th of June, having meanwhile received re-enforcements of soldiers to complete the crews, the squadron, followed by the flotilla, got under way and stood toward the entrance of the Liman. The combined force anchored in two lines, the squadron forming an obtuse angle in the channel with the opening toward Otchakoff, so as to be able to pour a cross fire upon any approaching ships. On the right and left flanks in the shallow water divisions of gunboats were stationed, with another division immediately in the rear of the squadron, and a reserve division at hand to re-enforce any threatened point of the line. The station was just in front of the mouth of the Bug, and commanded the entrance to that river and the Dnieper as well, thus protecting Kherson from any attack by the Turks, and affording Patiomkine's troops a free and unimpeded passage of the Bug when they marched to invest the town. The position was most advantageously chosen by Jones. His force was too weak to attack the Turks with any hope of success at present, and he had been ordered by Patiomkine not to enter upon any operation until the Russian army arrived. Absolutely no fault can be found either with his location or his dispositions. The Turks made no movement to attack them, and Nassau, who was good at proposing aggressive movements when no dangers threatened, suggested that they abandon their position and move forward nearer the town. Nothing would be gained by this maneuver, and opportunities for a successful attack by the Turks would have been greater than in their present position. Jones realized that the Turks must of necessity attack them sooner or later; that no commander could afford to throw away such advantage in force as the Turks enjoyed, when any hour might bring re-enforcements to the Russians, and the battery which Suvorof had completed would prevent further re-enforcements being received by the Turks. So Jones grimly held to his position in spite of Nassau's remonstrances, which were seconded by those of Alexiano, and waited. To wait is sometimes braver than to advance. Finally one of the reasons for Nassau's desire to advance transpired. He wished to remove from his position near the Turkish shore, upon which batteries were being erected in the absence of any Russian land force to prevent them, which would subject the right wing of his flotilla to a land fire; and he desired to take a position where he would be protected by the new fort at Kinburn Point and by the ships of the squadron. Suvorof had made Jones responsible for the safety of the fort on Kinburn Point, by the way, while awaiting the advance of the army. Having received no orders from Patiomkine, Jones assembled a council of war on the Wolodimer, at which Nassau was present. Jones' supremacy was fully recognized by Nassau. The council approved of the position in which Jones had placed his squadron, and commended his resolution to maintain that position, and in obedience to urgent pleadings from Jones the officers of the flotilla and squadron agreed to co-operate and work together for the common good in the event of being attacked. They did not have long to wait for the inevitable encounter. On the afternoon of the 18th of June, the Turkish flotilla in two divisions made a dash at the Russian gunboats on the right flank, and a sharp engagement began. The Russians, greatly outnumbered, began to give ground, and, though the reserve was immediately sent to support the right wing, before the dashing attacks of the Turkish gunboats the retreat was not stayed. A battery of artillery which had been unmasked on the adjacent shore also seriously annoyed the extreme flank of the Russians. On account of the shoal water the ships of the squadron could not enter the engagement. Jones, therefore, with his instinctive desire to get into a fight, left the Wolodimer and embarked in Nassau's galley. That commander had entirely lost his head. He could think of nothing to do of value, but implored Jones to send him a frigate--which was impossible, for all the frigates drew too much water; failing this, he threatened to withdraw his right wing, in which case the Turkish gunboats probably would have taken the squadron in reverse, and might have inflicted serious damage. Jones convinced him that a return attack was not only necessary but inevitable, and, as Nassau made no objection, he assumed the direction of the vessels himself. Summoning the unengaged center and left divisions, he brought them up through the squadron to attack the approaching Turkish galleys on the flank. The diversion they caused so inspirited the broken right and reserve divisions that they made a determined stand and stopped their retreat. The capitan pasha, seeing himself in danger of being taken between two fires and his retreat cut off, withdrew precipitately before the center and the left fairly came into action. Had Jones been in command of the flotilla from the beginning, a most disastrous defeat would have been inflicted upon the Turks. As it was, they retreated in confusion, leaving two gunboats in the hands of the enemy. As the affair had been conducted entirely between the different flotillas, Nassau claimed all the credit for the brilliant maneuvers of the Russians. Jones contemptuously allowed him to make any claims he pleased in his report to Patiomkine, and gave Nassau credit for at least having taken his advice. It would have been better for Nassau's fame if he had continued to take Jones' advice. Having obtained this slight success, Nassau, who knew how well his urgency would look in the reports, again proposed to Jones that they should advance and attack. The Russian army had not yet invested the place, and the success they had gained was so slight that circumstances had not changed. Jones still refused to be moved from the position he had assumed, which the experience of the 18th of June had justified, and calmly awaited the further pleasure of the enemy. It takes a high quality of moral courage for a stranger, who has a reputation for audacity and intrepidity, absolutely to refuse to do that thing to which a subordinate urges him, and which has the appearance of courage and daring; and I count this refusal, in the interests of sound strategic principles, not an unimportant manifestation of Jones' qualities as an officer. Meanwhile, the Russian army, having passed the Bug, invested the city on the 28th of June, and the Turkish fleet was forced to attack or withdraw. The capitan pasha elected to do the former. Having re-enforced his crews by some two thousand picked men from the great fleet outside the Liman, he advanced down the bay to attack the Russians. The wind was free, and the Turkish fleet came on in grand style, the capitan pasha leading in the largest ship, with the flotilla of gunboats massed on his left flank, making a brilliant showing. Nassau's desire to advance suddenly vanished, and he clamored for a retreat. Jones paid no attention to him, but weighed anchor, and, as it was impossible for him to advance on account of the wind, he waited for the enemy. Fortunately for the Russians, at one o'clock in the afternoon the Turkish flagship, which had been headed for the Wolodimer, took ground on the shoals near the south shore of the Liman. The advance of the fleet was immediately stopped, and the Turkish vessels came to anchor about the flagship. A council of war was at once convened on the Wolodimer, and Jones at last persuaded the Russians, although inferior in force, to attack the Turks as soon as the wind permitted. During the night the wind fortunately shifted to the north-northeast, and at daylight on the 29th the squadron stood for the Turkish fleet. The Wolodimer led the advance. By hard work the Turkish admiral had succeeded in floating his flagship, but his ships were huddled together without order. Jones immediately dashed at him, opening fire from his bow guns as he came within range. The squadron was formed in echelon by bringing the van forward on the center, making another obtuse angle, with the opening toward the crowd of Turkish ships--in fact, Jones was attempting with his smaller force to surround them. In the confusion caused by the bold attack, the Turks, who seem to have been taken completely by surprise, again permitted the ships of the admiral and of his second in command to take ground. Jones' prompt approach and the heavy fire poured upon them made it impossible to float the stranded ships. They both of them keeled over on the shoal and could make no defense. Their flags were struck, and they were abandoned by their crews. The other Turkish ships were so discouraged by this mishap that they withdrew toward Otchakoff, their flight being accelerated by the tremendous fire poured upon them by the Wolodimer and the other Russian ships. Just as the Wolodimer reached the stranded ship of the capitan pasha, Alexiano, who found himself sufficiently near to the enemy, ordered the anchor of the Wolodimer to be let go without informing Jones. As the order was given in Russian, Jones knew nothing about it until the motion of the ship was stopped. There was plenty of fight in the Turkish admiral, who seems to have been a very gallant old fellow, for after the loss of the flagship he hoisted his flag on one of the gunboats and brought up the flotilla, which poured a furious fire from its heavy guns upon the right division of Jones' squadron, to which the lighter guns of the ships could make but little reply. The situation became dangerous for the squadron. One of the Russian frigates, the Little Alexander, was set on fire and blown up by the Turkish shot, and the fortune of the day trembled in the balance. The light-draught gunboats each carried a large gun, heavier, and therefore of greater range, than any on the ships. The shallow water would not permit the ships to draw near enough to the flotilla to make effective use of their greater number of guns. Hence, under the circumstances, the squadron was always at the mercy of the flotilla unless by some means they could get into close action, in which case the ships would have made short work of the gunboats. Jones' position was therefore one of extreme peril--untenable, in fact, without the help of his own flotilla. The Russian flotilla had followed the squadron in a very leisurely and disorderly manner, so slowly that Jones had twice checked the way of his ships to allow them to come within hailing distance. He now dispatched a request to Nassau to bring up his gunboats on the right flank and drive off the Turkish gunboats, thus enabling him to take possession of the two frigates, which had been abandoned by their crews, and continue the pursuit of the flying Turkish ships. No attention was paid to this and repeated requests, and Jones finally took his boat and went himself in search of Nassau's galley to entreat him to attack the Turkish flotilla. He found Nassau in the rear of the left flank, far from the scene of action, and bent only upon attacking the two ships which were incapable of defense. Unable to persuade him to act, Jones at last appealed to Nassau's second, Brigadier Corsacoff, who finally moved against the Turks and drove them off with great loss after a hard fight. Jones meanwhile returned to the Wolodimer--both journeys having been made under a furious fire, in the midst of a general action, in which upward of thirty-six ships of considerable size and possibly a hundred gunboats were participating--but before he could get under way Nassau, with some of his flotilla, surrounded the two abandoned ships and set fire to them by means of a peculiar kind of a bomb shell called _brandkugels_ (hollow spheres, filled with combustibles and perforated with holes, which were fired from a piece called a _licorne_). The Turkish fleet and flotilla, very much shattered, retreated to a safe position under the walls of Otchakoff, thus ending the fighting for that day. Nassau's action was inexcusable. The two ships he so wantonly destroyed would have been a valuable addition to the Russian navy, and, as they were commanded by the Wolodimer and the rest of the squadron, they could not have been recaptured, and could easily have been removed from the shoals. The Turkish defeat had been a severe one, but the only trophy which remained in the hands of the Russians was the flag of the capitan pasha. A shot from one of the gunboats having carried it away, it fell into the water, whence it was picked up by some Zaporojian boatmen, who brought it to the Prince of Nassau's boat. Jones happened to be on board of it at the time. The flag certainly belonged to him, but he magnanimously yielded it to Nassau in the hope of pacifying that worthless individual. It was by this time late in the afternoon, but Jones gave orders to get under way toward Otchakoff. Now was the proper time to advance and deliver a return blow upon the broken enemy, but now Nassau desired to remain where he was. Jones was inflexible as usual, and determined to finish the job so auspiciously begun. Accordingly, the anchor of the Wolodimer was lifted and she got under way, followed by the remaining ships of the squadron. Having approached as near to Otchakoff as the shoal water permitted, Jones anchored his vessels across the channel in such a position as to cover the passage to the sea. If the Turkish vessels attempted to escape, they would have to pass under the guns of the squadron, and would find themselves within easy range of the formidable battery at Kinburn Point. Nassau's flotilla at last following, the squadron was massed on the right flank. [Illustration: Map of the Russian Campaign on the Liman.] The Turkish fleet and flotilla were drawn up in line parallel to the Russians, under cover of the Otchakoff batteries; they still presented a threatening appearance, but the severe handling they had received during the day had taken much of the fight out of them. Having disposed his squadron and flotilla to the best advantage, and being unable to proceed further without coming under the fire of the heavy Otchakoff batteries, there was nothing left for Jones but to hold his position and wait another attack. In order, however, to familiarize himself with the field of future operations, and see if he had properly placed his force, just before sunset he took soundings in a small boat all along the Turkish line within range of case shot from the Otchakoff batteries, and from the Turkish ships as well. His action was a part of his impudent hardihood. His dashing attack had so discouraged the Turks, and his success of the morning had so disheartened them, that not a single gun was fired upon him. Having completed his investigations to his satisfaction, he returned to the flagship. That night the Turkish admiral attempted to escape with his remaining ships and rejoin his main fleet on the Black Sea outside of Kinburn Point. In an endeavor to avoid Jones' squadron on the one hand, and the battery on the point on the other, nine of his largest ships ran on a shoal. The attempt to escape was made under the fire of the fort and ships, in which the flotillas and Fort Hassan joined. A few of the ships succeeded in getting to sea; the rest were forced to return to their position of safety under the walls of Otchakoff. When morning came, the plight of the nine ships aground was plainly visible. Suvorof, who had commanded the Kinburn battery in person that night, immediately signaled Jones to send vessels to take possession of the Turkish ships. Jones decided to send the light frigates of his squadron, but it being represented to him by Brigadier Alexiano that the place where the Turks had grounded was dangerous and the current running like a mill stream with the ebb tide, upon the advice of his captains he turned over the duty of taking possession of the Turkish ships to the flotilla. Alexiano, having received permission, went with the Prince of Nassau. The boats of the flotilla soon reached the Turkish ships. When they came within range of them they opened a furious fire, to which the latter made no reply. In their helpless position, heeling every way upon the shoal, it was impossible for them to make any defense. They struck their flags and surrendered their ships. The Russian gunboats paid no attention whatever to this circumstance, but continued to fire upon them, drawing nearer and nearer as they realized the helplessness of the Turks. Resorting to _brandkugels_ again, they at last set the ships on fire. The hapless Turks in vain implored mercy, kneeling upon the decks and even making the sign of the cross in the hope of touching the hearts of their ruthless and bloodthirsty antagonists. Seven frigates and corvettes were burned to the water's edge with all their crews. It is estimated that about three thousand Turks perished in this brutal and frightful butchery. Nassau and Alexiano enjoyed the situation from a galley at a safe distance in the rear of the attacking force. By chance two of the vessels were not consumed, and were hauled off later and added to the squadron. Jones viewed the dreadful slaughter of the Turks with unmitigated horror and surprise. A man of merciful disposition and kindly heart, who never inflicted unnecessary suffering, he was shocked and revolted at the ferocity of his new associates. He protested against their action with all his energy, and laid the foundation thereby of an utter breakdown of the relations between Nassau and himself. Besides being horribly cruel, the whole performance was unnecessary. Like the two ships burned the day before, it was possible to have saved them, and they could have been added to Jones' command and would have doubled his effective force. After the destruction of the Turkish vessels Nassau and Alexiano immediately dispatched a report of the operations to Patiomkine. They claimed that the flotilla had captured two and burned nine ships of the line! Patiomkine, who was at this time extremely fond of Nassau, forwarded this preposterous statement to the empress, with strong expressions of approbation of Nassau's conduct. He gave him the whole credit of the victory, which was entirely due to Jones, and suppressed the fact of his ruthless and reckless destruction of the surrendered ships, which would have been so valuable a re-enforcement to the government. In this report Patiomkine also spoke favorably of the rear admiral, saying that he had done his duty, but that the particular glory of and credit for the success was due to the princeling who had hung on the outskirts and lagged behind when there was any real fighting to be done. For some ten days the naval force remained inactive, waiting for Patiomkine to complete his investment of the town. On the night of the 8th of July the marshal sent orders to Nassau to advance with his flotilla and destroy the Turkish flotilla under the walls of Otchakoff. Jones was commanded to give him every assistance possible. The weather prevented the carrying out of the orders for a few days. On the night of the 12th of July, however, at one o'clock in the morning, the advance began. The plan of attack had been arranged by the marshal himself, but circumstances prevented its being followed. But that did not matter; Patiomkine was not a military genius, and Jones knew very much better than he what could or should be done in a naval engagement. As it was impossible to use the ships of the squadron, Jones manned all his boats, and led them to tow the gunboats. As day broke on the 12th of July, the flotilla, having advanced within gunshot distance of the walls, began firing upon the Turkish boats and on Otchakoff itself. After assisting in placing the Russian gunboats in an advantageous position, Jones, with the boats of the Wolodimer, made for five of the enemy's galleys which lay within easy range of the heavy guns of Fort Hassan. These galleys were subjected to a cross fire from the Russian flotilla on one side and Fort Hassan on the other. They were also covered by the guns of the Turkish flotilla and the citadel of Otchakoff. Their position made the attack a most hazardous one. Jones was far in advance of the gunboats, which, under the supine leadership of Nassau, did not manifest a burning anxiety to get into close action. In spite of a furious fire which was poured upon them, Jones dashed gallantly at the nearest galley. It was taken by boarding after a fierce hand-to-hand fight. Turning the command of the galley over to Lieutenant Fabricien with instructions for him to tow her out of action, Jones then assaulted the next galley, which happened to be that of the capitan pasha. This boat lay nearer the fort and was much better defended, but the Russians, under the inspiring leadership of their admiral, would not be denied, and the galley was presently his prize. The cable of this boat was cut without order, and she immediately drifted toward the shore and took ground near Fort Hassan, where she was subjected to a smashing fire from the Turkish batteries close at hand. Jones was determined to bring out the boat as a prize if possible. He caused the galley to be lightened by throwing everything movable overboard, and meanwhile dispatched Lieutenant Fox to the Wolodimer to fetch a kedge and line, by which he could warp her into the channel. While waiting for the return of this officer he again manned his boats and endeavored to bring up the Russian flotilla. He was partially successful in this attempt, for they succeeded in compelling the three other galleys of the group with which he had been engaged to strike their flags and in forcing the other gunboats to retreat with severe loss. When Fox returned from the Wolodimer a line was run from the galley to the burned wreck of a Turkish ship, but, before the galley could be moved, Jones, who had re-entered his barge, was intensely surprised and annoyed to see fire break out on the two vessels he had captured. They had been deliberately set on fire by the orders of Alexiano. The other three Turkish galleys were also burned by the use of the deadly _brandkugels_. It was brutal cruelty again. Not one was saved from the five galleys except fifty-two prisoners whom Jones personally brought off in his boats from the two which he had captured by hard hand-to-hand fighting. These galleys appear to have been propelled by oars which were driven by slaves on benches, in the well-known manner of the middle ages. As they were Turkish galleys, the slaves were probably captive Christians. They perished with the Turks left on board. Two more ships belonging to the squadron which had endeavored to escape the week previous, were set on fire and burned under the walls of Fort Hassan. The rest of the flotilla effected nothing, and under the orders of Nassau withdrew to their former position. This action ended the general naval maneuvers which were undertaken. In this short and brilliant campaign of three weeks Jones had fought four general actions, all of which he personally directed. With fifteen vessels against twenty-one he had so maneuvered that the enemy lost many galleys and no less than thirteen of his ships; a few had escaped, and a few were locked up in the harbor, so that the Turkish naval force in the Liman was not only defeated but practically annihilated by Jones' brilliant and successful leadership and fighting. Eleven ships might have been prizes had it not been for the cruelty and criminal folly of Nassau. Jones had captured by hand-to-hand fighting two of the largest of the enemy's galleys. He had shown himself a strategist in his disposition of the fleet at the mouth of the Bug, and later, when he had placed it to command the mouth of the Liman. He had demonstrated his qualities as a tactician in the two boat attacks, and had shown his usual impetuous courage at all times. Nassau had done nothing that was wise or that was gallant. When Jones was not with him his tendency was always to retreat. The orders which brought the flotilla into action which made the brilliant combination on the first day's fight, by which the Turks were outflanked, were issued by Jones himself. Nassau, like Landais, was "skilled in keeping out of harm's way," and he did not personally get into action at any time. His services consisted in the useless burning of the nine ships and the five galleys, but he had a ready tongue, and he still enjoyed the full favor and confidence of Patiomkine. As soon as the flotilla had retired from the last conflict, he and Alexiano hastened to the army headquarters to report their conquests and exploits. They lost nothing in the telling. In accordance with Nassau's previous statement to Jones, they were very much exaggerated, and the actions of the rear admiral were accorded scant notice. Patiomkine received the two cowards graciously, and, as usual, forwarded their reports. Jones was not accustomed to this performance, and in ignorance of their actions took no steps to establish the value of his services beyond making a report of what he had done in the usual way--a report quietly suppressed. Two days after Alexiano returned on board the Wolodimer in the throes of a malignant fever, of which he died on the 19th of July. It had been asserted that every Greek in the squadron would immediately resign upon the death of Alexiano, but nothing of the kind took place. The Greeks, like the English and the Russians, remained contentedly under the command of the rear admiral. On the day he died Catherine granted Alexiano a fine estate in White Russia. At the same time Nassau received a valuable estate with several thousand serfs in White Russia, and the military order of St. George. The empress also directed him to hoist the flag of a vice admiral when Otchakoff surrendered. Jones received the minor order of St. Anne, an order with which he would have been perfectly satisfied if the other officers had been awarded nothing more. All the officers of the flotilla were promoted one step, and received a year's pay with a gold-mounted sword. They were most of them soldiers. The officers of the squadron, who were all sailors, and who had conducted themselves gallantly and well, obtained no promotion, received no pecuniary reward, and no mark of distinction was conferred upon them. They were naturally indignant at being so slighted, but when Jones promised them that he would demand justice for them at the close of the campaign, they stifled their vexation and continued their service. It is evident that the failure to ascribe the victory to Jones was due to Patiomkine, and his action in giving the credit to Nassau was deliberate. Jones and Nassau had seriously disagreed. The scorn which ability and courage feel for inefficiency and cowardice had not been concealed by the admiral; he had been outspoken in his censure, and not reserved in his strictures upon Nassau's conduct. He had treated the ideas and suggestions of that foolish commander with the indifference they merited, and had allowed no opportunity to pass of exhibiting his contempt--which was natural, but impolitic. He seems to have made the effort in the beginning to get along pleasantly with Nassau, and to work with him for the good of the service; but, after the demonstration of Nassau's lack of character and capacity in the first action, and after the repeated failure of the prince to maneuver the flotilla in the most ordinary manner, Jones lost all patience with him. Patiomkine had endeavored to establish harmony and good feeling between the two, not only by letters, but by a personal visit which he paid the rear admiral on the Wolodimer on the 29th of June. He did everything on that occasion to persuade Nassau to make an apology for some remarks he had addressed to Jones previously, and, having done so, effected some kind of a reconciliation, but the differences between them were so wide--Nassau was so worthless and Jones so capable, while both were hot-tempered--that the breach between them was greater than before. Between the two Patiomkine, while not at first unfriendly to Jones, much preferred Nassau. Hence his action. Not only did Patiomkine enjoin harmony, but Littlepage, the American, whom we have seen before as the chamberlain of the King of Poland, who had accepted the command of one of the ships under Jones, also wrote him to the same effect. Jones received his letter in the spirit in which it was written, and assured the writer that he had borne more from Nassau than he would have done from any other than a madman, and he promised to continue to try to do so. The effort was a failure. Littlepage himself, unable to endure the animosities engendered between the squadron and the flotilla, threw up his command and returned to Warsaw. His parting counsel to Jones showed that he well understood the situation. "Farewell, my dear admiral; take care of yourself, and look to whom you trust. Remember that you have rather to play the part of a politician than a warrior--more of a courtier than a soldier." Jones indorsed upon this note the following remark: "I was not skilled in playing such a part. I never neglected my duty." To resume the narrative: After the defeat in the Liman, the grand Turkish fleet sailed away from Otchakoff, which was then strictly blockaded by Jones' squadron, assisted by thirty-five armed boats which had been placed under his command. At the end of July the Turkish fleet, having had an indecisive engagement with the Russians at Sebastopol, returned to Otchakoff. Preparations were made by Jones to receive an attack, but none was delivered. Three ships attempted to run the blockade: one was sunk, and the others got in with difficulty. Nothing of importance happened during the months of August and September, in which Jones continued an effective blockade, although he undertook some minor operations at the request of the marshal. Patiomkine carried on the siege in a very desultory manner. In accordance with his contradictory nature he sometimes pressed operations vigorously, and then for weeks did nothing. He seems to have had a harem in his camp, which perhaps accounts for his dawdling. Nassau, with his usual boastfulness, sent word to Patiomkine that if he had permission he would take the boats of the flotilla and knock a breach in the walls of Otchakoff big enough to admit two regiments; whereupon Patiomkine asked him wittily how many breaches he had made in Gibraltar, and removed him from his command. He was sent northward, where he still managed to hold the favor of the empress. This did not greatly improve Jones' situation, however, for the relations between him and Patiomkine had become so strained as to be impossible. On the 24th of October Patiomkine sent him the following order: "As it is seen that the capitan pasha comes in his kirlangich from the grand fleet to the smaller vessels, and as before quitting this he may attempt something, I request your excellence, the capitan pasha having actually a greater number of vessels, to hold yourself in readiness to receive him courageously, and drive him back. I require that this be done without loss of time; if not, you will be made answerable for every neglect." Indorsing this insulting document as follows: "A warrior is always ready, and I had not come there an apprentice," Jones immediately returned a spirited answer, part of which is quoted: "Monseigneur: I have the honour to transmit to your highness a plan of the position in which I placed the squadron under my command this morning, in conformity to your orders of yesterday. . . . I have always conformed myself immediately, without murmuring, and most exactly, to the commands of your highness; and on occasions when you have deigned to leave anything to my own discretion I have been exceedingly flattered, and believe you have had no occasion to repent. At present, in case the capitan pacha does resolve on attempting anything before his departure, I can give assurance beforehand that the brave officers and crews I have the honour to command will do their duty 'courageously,' though they have not yet been rewarded for the important services they have already performed for the empire under my eyes. I answer with my honour to explain myself fairly on this delicate point at the end of the campaign. In the meantime I may merely say that it is upon the sacred promise I have given them of demanding justice from your highness in their behalf that they have consented to stifle their grievances and keep silent." This provoked a reply from Patiomkine and another tart rejoinder from Jones. The correspondence, in which on one occasion Jones had stated that "every man who thinks is master of his own opinion, and this is mine"--good doctrine for the United States, impossible in Russia--terminated by another order from Patiomkine, which closed as follows: "Should the enemy attempt to pass Oczakow, prevent him by every means and defend yourself courageously." Jones' indorsement on this document was as follows: "It will be hard to believe that Prince Potemkin addressed such words to Paul Jones!" But the patience of the prince had reached its limit, and on the 28th he summarily relieved Jones of his command, and replaced him by Vice-Admiral Mordwinoff, who had received him so coldly when he arrived at Kherson six months before. The order relieving him is as follows: "According to the special desire of her Imperial Majesty, your service is fixed in the northern seas; and as this squadron and the flotilla are placed by me under the orders of the vice admiral and the Chevalier de Mordwinoff, your excellency may in consequence proceed on the voyage directed; principally, as the squadron in the Liman, on account of the season being so far advanced, can not now be united with that of Sevastopol." The northern sea service was only a pretext, but on the 30th Jones replied with the following brief note: "I am much flattered that her Majesty yet deigns to interest herself about me; but what I shall ever regret is the loss of your regard. I will not say that it is not difficult to find more skilful sea officers than myself--I know well that it is a very possible thing; but I feel emboldened to say that you will never find a man more susceptible of a faithful attachment or more zealous in the discharge of his duty. I forgive my enemies who are near you for the painful blow aimed at me; but if there is a just God, it will be difficult for Him to do as much." Patiomkine was intensely angered by this note, and he took serious exception to the implication that he had been influenced against Jones by any one. Jones states in one of his letters that when he took leave of Patiomkine a few days afterward, the prince remarked with much anger: "Don't believe that anyone leads me. No one leads me!" he shouted, rising and stamping his foot, "not even the Empress!"--which was correct. The jesting interrogation with which Catherine closes one of her letters to Patiomkine by saying, "Have I done well, my master?" contained much truth. However, he moderated his tone somewhat in the face of the sturdy dignity of Jones, and, before the admiral started for St. Petersburg, Patiomkine gave him the following letter to the empress: "Madam: In sending to the high throne of your Imperial Majesty Rear-Admiral M. Paul Jones, I take, with submission, the liberty of certifying the eagerness and zeal which he has ever shown for the service of your Imperial Majesty, and to render himself worthy of the high favour of your Imperial Majesty." Having given the officers he commanded, who seem to have become much attached to him, testimonials as to the high value of their services, Jones embarked in a small open galley on the 1st of December for Kherson. He was three days and three nights on the way, and suffered greatly from the extreme cold. He arrived at Kherson dangerously ill, and was unable to proceed upon his journey until the 17th of December. When he reached Elizabethgrad he received word that Otchakoff had been taken by storm the day he had departed from Kherson; over twenty thousand Turks were put to the sword on that occasion. He arrived at St. Petersburg on the 8th of January, 1789, and was ordered to appear at court on the 11th, when the empress awarded him a private interview, at which he presented the letter of Patiomkine. A few days afterward Catherine sent him word that she would wait the arrival of the prince before deciding what to do with him. CHAPTER XIX. SLANDERED IN RUSSIA--A SLAVONIC REWARD FOR FAITHFUL SERVICES. Patiomkine did not reach St. Petersburg until the middle of February, and while waiting for him Jones busied himself with formulating suggestions for a political and commercial alliance between Russia and the United States, one feature of which involved an attack upon Algiers. In addition to holding a large number of American prisoners in captivity, the Algerines had made common cause with the Turks, and had been present in large numbers before Otchakoff. When Patiomkine did arrive, the project was submitted to him, but it was not thought expedient to attempt it at the time, lest it should result in the irritation of England. During this time the commodore wrote to Jefferson and learned for the first time that all the letters he had written since he entered the Russian service had been intercepted. When he examined the official reports concerning his actions, which had been forwarded from the Liman, he found that he had been grossly misrepresented, and the reports were false even to the most trifling details. His situation was very different from what it had been when he entered St. Petersburg before. Antagonized secretly by Patiomkine, and openly by Nassau and the English at court, his favor appreciably waned. The old story about the insubordinate carpenter whom he had punished in the West Indies was revived, and in its new version the carpenter became his nephew, and it was stated that he had flogged him to death. This was the precursor of a more deadly scandal. His occasional invitations to court functions became less and less frequent, and the coldness in official circles more and more marked. Finally, in the month of April, when he appeared at the palace to pay his respects to the empress, he was refused admittance, and unceremoniously ordered to leave the precincts. This deadly insult, this public disgrace, which of course at once became a matter of general knowledge, was due to a most degrading accusation made against his character. To discover the origin of this slander is difficult indeed. In the first flush of his anger Jones specifically charged that his English enemies, whose animosities were not softened by time, were the authors of the calumny. It is impossible to believe that any English officer could descend to such depths, nor is it necessary to credit the report that his disgrace was due to them. The Russian court was as full of intrigue as that of an Oriental despot. Jones was out of favor. He had succeeded in creating powerful enemies for himself in Nassau and Patiomkine. The latter gentleman had negatived a promising plan in the hope of thereby pleasing England, with whom Russia was now coquetting. If he were the instigator of the cabal against Jones, he might have thought the disgrace of the man they hated would gratify the English people. If he could bring this about without compromising himself he would not hesitate to take the required action. Nassau had very strong reasons for hating Jones, who made no secret of his contempt for that pseudo princeling. At any rate, whatever the source or origin, there is no doubt as to the situation. Jones was accused of having outraged a young girl of menial station, who was only ten years old! The charge was false from beginning to end. It had absolutely no foundation, but with the peculiar methods in vogue in Russia, it was not easy to establish his innocence. He was not only presumed, but was declared guilty, without investigation. The advocate he employed was ordered to abandon his case, and he found himself in the position of one condemned beyond hope with no opportunity for justification. He was ever jealous on the point of his personal honor, and to see himself thus cruelly stigmatized at the close of a long, honorable, and brilliant career nearly drove him frantic. After exhausting unavailingly every means to force a consideration of his case and an examination of evidence which he succeeded in securing with great difficulty, he fell into despair and seriously contemplated suicide. He was not the man that he had been. Already within a few years of his death, although only forty-one, his constitution was so broken that his strength was seriously undermined. Providence raised up for him a friend in the person of de Ségur, the French ambassador at Catherine's court. This man should be held in eternal gratitude by all Americans--nay, by all who love honor and fair play--for he did not permit himself to be influenced, as is the wont of courtiers, by the withdrawal of royal favor from the chevalier, whom he had known in happier days and under more favorable circumstances. He had been Jones' friend when he had been in the zenith of his career, and he remained his friend in this nadir of his misfortunes. The part that he played in the transaction can be best understood by his own statement, confirmed by two letters written by Jones. The first letter is addressed to Patiomkine. It had been written before the visit of de Ségur: "St. Petersburg, _April 13, 1789_. "My Lord: Having had the advantage to serve under your orders and in your sight, I remember, with particular satisfaction, the kind promises and testimonies of your friendship with which you have honoured me. As I served all my life for honour, I had no other motive for accepting the flattering invitation of her Imperial Majesty than a laudable ambition to distinguish myself in the service of a sovereign so magnanimous and illustrious; for I never yet have bent the knee to self-interest, nor drawn my sword for hire. . . . "A bad woman has accused me of violating her daughter! If she had told the truth I should have had candour enough to own it, and would trust my honour, which is a thousand times dearer to me than my life, to the mercy of the empress. I declare, with an assurance becoming a military character, that I am innocent. Till that unhappy moment I have enjoyed the public esteem, and the affection of all who knew me. Shall it be said that in Russia a wretched woman, who _eloped_ from her _husband_ and _family_ in the country, _stole away her daughter_, lives here in a house of bad fame, and leads a debauched and adulterous life, has found credit enough on a simple complaint, unsupported by _any proof_, to affect the honour of a general officer of reputation, who has merited and received the decorations of America, of France, and of this empire? "If I had been favoured with the least intimation of a complaint of that nature having found its way to the sovereign, I know too well what belongs to delicacy to have presented myself in the presence of the empress before my justification. "My servant was kept prisoner by the officers of police for several hours, two days successively, and threatened with the knout. "After the examination of my people before the police, I sent for and employed Monsieur Crimpin as my advocate. As the mother had addressed herself to him before to plead her cause, she naturally spoke to him without reserve, and he learned from her a number of important facts, among others, that she was counselled and supported by a distinguished man of the court. "By the certificate of the father, attested by the pastor of the colony, the daughter is several years older than is expressed in the complaint. And the complaint contains various other points equally false and easy to be refuted. For instance, there is a conversation I am said to have held with the daughter in the Russian language, of which no person ever heard me pronounce two words together; it is unknown to me. "I thought that in every country a man accused had a right to employ advocates, and to avail himself of his friends for his justification. Judge, my prince, of my astonishment and distress of mind, when I yesterday was informed that the day before the governor of the city had sent for my advocate, and forbidden _him_, at his peril, _or any other person_, to meddle with _my cause!_ "I am innocent before God, and my conscience knows no reproach. The complaint brought against me is an infamous lie, and there is no circumstance that gives it even an air of probability. "I address myself to you with confidence, my prince, and am assured that the friendship you have so kindly promised me will be immediately exerted in my favour; and that you will not suffer the illustrious sovereign of this great empire to be misled by the false insinuations and secret cabals of my hidden enemies. Your mind will find more true pleasure in pleading the cause of an innocent man whom you honour with your friendship than can result from other victories equally glorious with that of Oczakow, which will always rank among the most brilliant of military achievements. If your highness will condescend to question Monsieur Crimpin (for he dare not now _even speak to me_), he can tell you many circumstances which will elucidate my innocence. I am, with profound respect, my lord, your highness's devoted and most obedient servant," etc. This letter was accompanied by certificates which fully established the character of the wretched woman by whose agency his ruin had been sought. The letter is dignified and touching. It is the passionate protest of an innocent man against an accusation concerning that which he had ever held dearer than life--his honor. It carries conviction with it. Incidentally it throws much light upon the Russian legal methods of that day. Never does Jones appear in a better light. But it was sent to an utterly unresponsive man. Honor, justice, innocence, were idle words to Patiomkine. No reply was made to the note, and Jones abandoned himself to despair. The narrative of de Ségur is taken from his memoirs, and, excepting in some minor details, is substantially correct: "The American rear admiral was favourably welcomed at court; often invited to dinner by the empress, and received with distinction into the best society in the city; on a sudden Catherine commanded him to appear no more in her presence. "He was informed that he was accused of an infamous crime: of assaulting a young girl of fourteen, of grossly violating her; and that probably, after some preliminary information, he would be tried by the courts of admiralty, in which there were many English officers, who were strongly prejudiced against him. "As soon as this order was known every one abandoned the unhappy American; no one spoke to him, people avoided saluting him, and every door was shut against him. All those by whom but yesterday he had been eagerly welcomed now fled from him as if he had been infected with a plague; besides, no advocate would take charge of his cause, and no public man would consent to listen to him; at last even his servants would not continue in his service; and Paul Jones, whose exploits every one had so recently been ready to proclaim, and whose friendship had been sought after, found himself alone in the midst of an immense population; Petersburg, a great capital, became to him a desert. "I went to see him; he was moved even to tears by my visit. 'I was unwilling,' he said to me, shaking me by the hand, 'to knock at your door and to expose myself to a fresh affront, which would have been more cutting than all the rest. I have braved death a thousand times--now I wish for it.' His appearance, his arms being laid upon the table, made me suspect some desperate intention. "'Resume,' I said to him, 'your composure and your courage. Do you not know that human life, like the sea, has its storms, and that fortune is even more capricious than the winds? If, as I hope, you are innocent, brave this sudden tempest; if, unhappily, you are guilty, confess it to me with unreserved frankness, and I will do everything I can to snatch you, by a sudden flight, from the danger which threatens you.' "'I swear to you upon my honour,' said he, 'that I am innocent, and a victim of the most infamous calumny. This is the truth. Some days since a young girl came to me in the morning, to ask me if I could give her some linen or lace to mend. She then indulged in some rather earnest and indecent allurements. Astonished at so much boldness in one of such few years, I felt compassion for her; I advised her not to enter upon so vile a career, gave her some money, and dismissed her; but she was determined to remain. "'Impatient at this resistance, I took her by the hand and led her to the door; but, at the instant when the door was opened, the little profligate tore her sleeves and her neck-kerchief, raised great cries, complained that I had assaulted her, and threw herself into the arms of an old woman, whom she called her mother, and who certainly was not brought there by chance. The mother and the daughter raised the house with their cries, went out, and denounced me; and now you know all.' "'Very well,' said I, 'but can not you learn the names of those adventurers?' 'The porter knows them,' he replied. 'Here are their names written down, but I do not know where they live. I was desirous of immediately presenting a memorial about this ridiculous affair, first to the minister and then to the empress; but I have been interdicted from access to both of them.' 'Give me the paper,' I said; 'resume your accustomed firmness; be comforted; let me undertake it; in a short time we shall meet again.' "As soon as I returned home I directed some sharp and intelligent agents, who were devoted to me, to get information respecting these suspected females, and to find out what was their mode of life. I was not long in learning that the old woman was in the habit of carrying on a vile traffic in young girls, whom she passed off as her daughters. "When I was furnished with all the documents and attestations for which I had occasion, I hastened to show them to Paul Jones. 'You have nothing more to fear,' said I; 'the wretches are unmasked. It is only necessary to open the eyes of the empress, and let her see how unworthily she has been deceived; but this is not so very easy; truth encounters a multitude of people at the doors of a palace, who are very clever in arresting its progress; and sealed letters are, of all others, those which are intercepted with the greatest art and care. Nevertheless, I know that the empress, who is not ignorant of this, has directed under very heavy penalties that no one shall detain on the way any letters which are addressed to her personally, and which may be sent to her by post; therefore, here is a very long letter which I have written to her in your name; nothing of the detail is omitted, although it contains some rough expressions. I am sorry for the empress; but since she heard and gave credit to a calumny, it is but right that she should read the justification with patience. Copy this letter, sign it, and I will take charge of it; I will send some one to put it in the post at the nearest town. Take courage; believe me, your triumph is not doubtful.'" The contents of the letter which Jones was advised to copy and send are not now ascertainable, but the following letter was written to the empress; and, while it is so evidently in Jones' own peculiar and characteristic style as to admit of no doubt as to its authorship, he probably embodied in it the suggestions of de Ségur and substituted it for the copy proposed: "St. Petersburg, _May 17, 1789_. "Madam: I have never served but for honour; I have never sought but glory; and I believed I was in the way of obtaining both when I accepted the offers made me on the part of your Majesty, of entering into your service.... I sacrificed my dearest interests to accept an invitation so flattering, and I would have reached you instantly if the United States had not entrusted me with a special commission to Denmark. Of this I acquitted myself faithfully and promptly.... The distinguished reception which your Majesty deigned to grant me, the kindness with which you loaded me, indemnified me for the dangers to which I had exposed myself for your service, and inspired me with the most ardent desire to encounter more.... I besought your Majesty never to condemn me unheard. You condescended to give me that promise, and I set out with a mind as tranquil as my heart was satisfied.... "At the close of the campaign I received orders to return to court, as your Majesty intended to employ me in the North Seas, and M. le Comte de Besborodko acquainted me that a command of greater importance than that of the Black Sea ... was intended for me. Such was my situation, when, upon the mere accusation of a crime, the very idea of which wounds my delicacy, I found myself driven from court, deprived of the good opinion of your Majesty, and forced to employ the time which I wish to devote to the defence of your empire in cleansing from myself the stains with which calumny has covered me. "Condescend to believe, madam, that if I had received the slightest hint that a complaint of such a nature had been made against me, and still more, that it had come to your Majesty's knowledge, I know too well what is owing to delicacy to have ventured before you till I was completely exculpated. "Understanding neither the laws, the language, nor the forms of justice in this country, I needed an advocate, and obtained one; but, whether from terror or intimidation, he stopped short all at once, and durst not undertake my defence, though convinced of the justice of my cause. But truth may always venture to show itself alone and unsupported at the foot of the throne of your Majesty. I have not hesitated to labour unaided for my own vindication; I have collected proofs; and if such details might appear under the eyes of your Majesty I would present them; but if your Majesty will deign to order some person to examine them, it will be seen by the report which will be made that my crime is a fiction, invented by the cupidity of a wretched woman, whose avarice has been countenanced, perhaps incited, by the malice of my numerous enemies. Her husband has himself certified and attested to her infamous conduct. His signature is in my hands, and the pastor, Braun, of the district, has assured me that if the College of Justice will give him an order to this effect he will obtain an attestation from the country people that the mother of the girl referred to is known among them as a wretch absolutely unworthy of belief. "Take a soldier's word, madam; believe an officer whom two great nations esteem, and who has been honoured with flattering marks of their approbation.... I am innocent; and if I were guilty I would not hesitate to make a candid avowal of my fault, and to commit my honour, which is a thousand times dearer to me than my life, to the hands of your Majesty. "If you deign, madam, to give heed to this declaration, proceeding from a heart the most frank and loyal, I venture from your justice to expect that my zeal will not remain longer in shameful and humiliating inaction. It has been useful to your Majesty, and may again be so, especially in the Mediterranean, where, with insignificant means, I will undertake to execute most important operations, the plans for which I have meditated long and deeply. But if circumstances, of which I am ignorant, do not admit the possibility of my being employed during the campaign, I hope your Majesty will give me permission to return to France or America, granting, as the sole reward of the services I have had the happiness to render, the hope of renewing them at some future day...." Catherine, to her credit be it stated, took the "soldier's word," examined the convincing proofs, and, being satisfied of his innocence, publicly received him at court again and thus openly vindicated him. New projects immediately began to take shape in his fertile brain. No bodily weakness could apparently impair his mental activity. With a half dozen East Indiamen armed for warlike purposes he offered to cut off the food traffic between Egypt and Constantinople; an idea as old as the days of the Cæsars, when upon the arrival of the corn ships from Alexandria depended the control of the Roman plebeians; but the idea was as good now as it was then, and if he had been intrusted with the meager force he requested he would have compelled the Turks to detach ships from the Black Sea fleet, and thus relieve the pressure on the Crimea. Count Besborodko was pleased with the project, and promised to submit it to the empress, proposing, at the same time, if this plan fell through, to give him another command in the Black Sea, with an adequate fleet, by which he might force his way into the Mediterranean. About the middle of June, on his applying to this minister again, he was promised an answer in two days as to the pleasure of the empress concerning him. Besborodko stated that Catherine would either give him a command or grant the leave of absence which he had asked in his letter of the 17th. The minister had a court memory, however, and not two days, but many, passed without the information. On the 5th of July Jones wrote again to the minister in the usual direct way he employed when he was irritated, and asked for an immediate declaration of intentions regarding him. It was a high-handed way to address the Russian court, but it brought an immediate reply. On the 8th of July he was officially informed that his request for a leave of absence was granted for two years, with permission to go outside the limits of the empire. His salary was to be continued during that time. On the 18th of July he had a farewell audience with the empress, who treated him very nicely on this occasion. As he kissed her hand in good-by she wished him _bon voyage_, which was politic but unsubstantial. He did not leave St. Petersburg immediately, and it was not until the last of August that he took his final leave of the Russian capital. During this interval he was detained partly by the difficulty in collecting his arrears in pay and allowances, and partly for the reason that he undertook, in spite of the rebuffs he had received, again to lay before Besborodko and others a project for a war against the Barbary States, which, of course, came to nothing. He left Russia a bitterly disappointed man. The disinterested friendship of de Ségur had not been exhausted by his previous actions, and he gave additional proofs of his affection by supplying Jones with letters of introduction to the representatives of the French Government at the different courts of Europe which he proposed to visit, and the two following statements addressed to the French Minister of Foreign Affairs: "St. Petersburg, _July 21, 1789_. "The enemies of the Vice-Admiral[48] Paul Jones having caused to be circulated reports entirely destitute of foundation concerning the journey which this general officer is about to undertake, I would wish the inclosed article, the authenticity of which I guarantee, should be inserted in the _Gazette de France_, and in the other public papers which are submitted to the inspection of your department. This article will undeceive those who have believed the calumny, and will prove to the friends and to the compatriots of the vice admiral that he has sustained the reputation acquired by his bravery and his talents during the last war; that the empress desires to retain him in her service; and that if he absents himself at this moment it is with his own free will, and for particular reasons, which can not leave any stain on his honour. "The glorious marks of the satisfaction and bounty of the king toward M. Paul Jones, his attachment to France, which he has served so usefully in the common cause, his rights as a subject, and as an admiral of the United States, the protection of the ministers of the king, and my personal friendship for this distinguished officer, with whom I made a campaign in America, are so many reasons which appear to me to justify the interest which I took in all that concerned him during his stay in Russia." "_Article to be inserted in the Public Prints, and particularly in the Gazette de France_. "St. Petersburg, _July 21, 1789_. "The Vice-Admiral Paul Jones, being at the point of returning to France, where private affairs require his presence, had the honour to take leave of the empress, the 7th[49] of this month, and to be admitted to kiss the hand of her Imperial Majesty, who confided to him the command of her vessels of war stationed on the Liman during the campaign of 1788. As a mark of favour for his conduct during this campaign the empress has decorated him with the insignia of the order of St. Anne; and her Imperial Majesty, satisfied with his services, only grants him permission to absent himself for a limited time, and still preserves for him his emoluments and his rank." Jones did not lack other friends either, for M. Genet, Secretary of the French Legation at St. Petersburg, and subsequently Minister from France to the United States--his extraordinary conduct while he enjoyed that office will be remembered--whose father had been an old friend of the commodore's, gave him a most cordial and gratifying letter of introduction to the celebrated Madame Campan, in which he specifically states the unfounded nature of the charges which had been made, and, describing the circumstances in which Jones left Russia, authorized her to correct any rumors to his disadvantage which might be put in circulation at Versailles. He also consented to act as Jones' financial representative, and transmitted to him from time to time such amounts on his pay as he could wrest from the Russian Government. CHAPTER XX. LAST YEARS AND DEATH. The next year of his life the commodore passed in travel. His destination when he left Russia was Copenhagen; perhaps he had in mind the possibility of resuming the negotiations with the Danish Government on the old claim, and it is possible that his deferred pension may have had something to do with this intention. He had no especial place to go; one city was as good as another to him. In his busy wandering life he had never made a home for himself, and, while his mind and heart turned with ever more intensity of affection to the United States, yet he loved America in an abstract rather than a concrete way. The principles for which the United States stood, and upon which they were constituted and organized, appealed to him, but those personal ties which he had formed in his brief sojourn before the Revolution were weakened by absence or had been sundered by death. There was no employment for him there, for his country had absolutely no navy. Besides, he needed rest. He who had fought throughout a long life for liberty and freedom, for honor and fame, was doomed to struggle for that last desire for the few remaining years left him. He traveled leisurely from St. Petersburg to Warsaw, where he was kindly received at the court of Poland, and where he busied himself preparing journals of his American service and of the Liman campaign, copies of which he sent to Catherine. There, too, he met the great Pole, Kosciusko, and the acquaintance between the veteran sailor and the old soldier of the Revolution speedily ripened into intimacy. Sweden had declared war against Russia. Kosciusko, who was the inveterate enemy of this gigantic empire which finally wrote _finis Poloniæ_ across the story of his country, would have been most happy if he could have seen the fleets of Sweden led by so redoubtable a warrior as Jones. But of course such a proposition was not, and could not be, entertained by Jones.[50] On leaving Warsaw for Vienna, it is suggested that he made the detour necessitated by visiting that point, rather than proceeding directly to Copenhagen via Berlin, at the instigation of Catherine, who desired to remove him from the vicinity of the Swedes. She might not use him herself, but she could not contemplate with any degree of equanimity the possibility of his serving against her. There is not the slightest evidence that he ever thought of entering the service of Sweden. He repels the idea with indignation, and the sole foundation for it arose from Kosciusko's ardent desire. Jones' conduct in the affair is beyond criticism; indeed, he was too ill at that time, although he did not realize it, to be employed by any one. In his papers the following declaration is found. It is undated, and the documents to which it was attached give no clew as to when it was written, or whether it was ever published, but from its contents it must have been prepared while he was on this leave of absence from Russia. It is a notable little document, for it repeats his assertion of American citizenship, expresses his intention of never warring against the United States or France, and clearly defines the tenure of his connection with the Russians: "NOTICE. "The Rear-Admiral Paul Jones, desirous of making known unequivocally his manner of thinking in relation to his military connection with Russia, declares: "1st. That he has at all times expressed to her Imperial Majesty of Russia his vow to preserve the condition of an American citizen and officer. "2d. That, having been honoured by his most Christian Majesty with a gold sword, he has made a like vow never to draw it on any occasion where war might be waged against his Majesty's interest. "3d. That circumstances which the rear admiral could not foresee when he wrote on the last occasion make him feel a presentiment that, in spite of his attachment and gratitude to her Imperial Majesty, and notwithstanding the advantageous propositions which may be made to him, he will probably renounce the service of that power, even before the expiration of the leave of absence which he now enjoys." To return to his trip. After staying some time in Vienna, where he seems to have been received with favor in high social circles, though the illness of the emperor prevented his being presented, he went to Amsterdam via Hamburg. Here he remained for some time, engaged, as usual, in correspondence. He still seems to have cherished the sailor's dream of buying a farm and passing his remaining years thereon, for we find among his letters an inquiry addressed to Mr. Charles Thompson, the Secretary of Congress, about an estate near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, which he thought of purchasing from funds invested in the United States. But in view of his anomalous connection with Russia he thought it well to remain in Europe until it had either ceased or been renewed. This was the time, being in need of funds, that he wrote to his old friend Krudner to endeavor to secure payment of the Danish pension. Krudner readily undertook Jones' commission, and the Danish Government promised to pay the pension at Copenhagen to any one whom Jones would authorize to receive it. They never paid it. Krudner always retained his friendship for Jones, and one of his letters closes with these words: "At all events, I flatter myself, as a good Russian, that your arm is still reserved for us." At the end of April, 1790, he crossed over to London on some financial business, which he settled to his satisfaction. He remained but a brief time in England--his visits there were always brief and devoid of publicity; he seems to have felt keenly the hatred with which the English regarded him, and under such circumstances his action was wise. Toward the close of May he returned to Paris, which was perhaps the place where his happiest hours had been spent, and at Paris he continued to reside until the last scene in his eventful history. It was no longer the gay and pleasure-seeking resort of his earlier and happier years. The grim shadow of the Revolution, as yet no larger than a man's hand, was already lowering on the horizon. A year before his arrival the States-General had been summoned for the first time in a hundred and seventy-five years. On the 14th of July, eight months before his coming, the drums of the sections rolled the knell of the Bastile, and a little later still the old feudal constitution, which had endured the vicissitudes of a thousand years of change, was abrogated, and the rule of the people began. Louis XVI, poor puppet of fortune, "imponderous rag of circumstance," was driven hither and thither by the furious blasts of liberated passion charged with centuries of animosity, for a few aimless, pitiful years, and then--the guillotine! For two years Jones lived in quiet retirement. He made but one other public appearance, in July, 1790, in connection with the first anniversary of the taking of the Bastile. Paris, inspirited with the first breath of freedom, drawn from the first labor pains of the Revolution, determined to celebrate in fitting style this grand anniversary. Different groups of foreigners residing in France sent delegates to appear before the National Assembly and ask permission to take part in the national _fête_. Paul Jones headed the Americans, and made an address to the Assembly. Thenceforward he did nothing of a public character. His traveling had brought him neither surcease of care nor restoration to health. His hardy constitution, shattered by constant exposure in all weathers and every climate, and worn out by the chafings of his ardent and impatient temperament throughout the course of a career checkered by periods of alternate exaltation and depression, and filled with hopes and disappointments in equal measure, was rapidly yielding to the pains and ailments which were ushering in the fatal moment which should put an end to all his dreams and aspirations. His time, however, was not passed unhappily, and returns from investments provided him with enough for his simple needs. During the stirring hours of the beginning of the Revolution he busied himself in writing his journals, arranging the great mass of papers he had accumulated, and in his never-failing correspondence. Sometimes he attended the Sorbonne, and held discussion with philosophers. Madame de Telison was with him. He was drawn in two ways by the condition of France. His sympathies were ever with humanity struggling for freedom; but he had received so many marks of favor from the French king, to whom he owed his great opportunities for achievement and advancement, that he could scarcely view with equanimity the dangers and harassments of that unhappy monarch. He was a republican through and through in principle, but by instinct and association, if not by birth, he was one of the proudest and most thoroughgoing of aristocrats--as Washington was an aristocrat. Like many other people, his theory of life and government was different from his practice. Besides, the liberty which the French were striving to establish was already perilously verging on that unbounded license into which it soon degenerated, and that his disciplined soul abhorred. His associates in France were mainly among the Girondists, with whom he was more nearly affiliated than with other political parties. He did not realize that he was so broken in health, for he still clung to his tenuous connection with Russia, sending repeated letters to Catherine and Patiomkine, with demands, requests, and suggestions of various plans for service. Patiomkine, as usual, took no notice, but the last letter to Catherine having been forwarded through Baron Grimm, she directed him, rather curtly by the way, to inform Jones that if she had service for him she would let him know. After that Jones seems to have discontinued his letters to Russia. He found, however, two new outlets for his restless zeal. Early in 1792, chancing to meet an Algerian corsair, who had captured many Americans now held for ransom in Algiers, he learned much of the unfortunate condition of those unhappy sailors, to whose fate their country was apparently oblivious. The corsair informed him that if these captives were not ransomed promptly they would be sold into slavery. Jones wrote immediately to Jefferson, then Secretary of State, and with all his power urged that something be done for them, either by sending a force to compel restitution or by means of ransom. The letter, as we shall see, was not without result. The second object of interest was a claim which he entertained against the French Government for salary due him while in command of the Bon Homme Richard and the squadron. The United States had paid him his salary as an officer during that period, but he felt that since his services had been asked by France, and the squadron had been at the charge of the French Government, a further amount was due him from the French, and he wrote to de Bertrand, Minister of Marine, demanding the balance due. The claim was the subject of acrid correspondence, and the matter was pending when he died.[51] From the letters written during the last years of his life I quote portions of three--the first two to his sister, Mrs. Taylor, and the last one to Lafayette: "Amsterdam, _March 26, 1790_. "I wrote you, my dear friend, from Paris, by Mr. Kennedy, who delivered me the kind letter you wrote me by him. Circumstances obliged me to return soon afterward to America, and on my arrival at New York Mr. Thomson delivered me a letter that had been intrusted to his care by Mrs. Loudon. It would be superfluous to mention the great satisfaction I received in hearing from two persons I so much love and esteem, and whose worthy conduct as wives and mothers is so respectable in my eyes. Since my return to Europe a train of circumstances and changes of residence have combined to keep me silent. This has given me more pain than I can express; for I have a tender regard for you both, and nothing can be indifferent to me that regards your happiness and the welfare of your children. I wish for a particular detail of their age, respective talents, characters, and education. I do not desire this information merely from curiosity. It would afford me real satisfaction to be useful to their establishment in life. We must study the genius and inclination of the boys, and try to fit them, by a suitable education, for the pursuits we may be able to adopt for their advantage. When their education shall be advanced to a proper stage, at the school of Dumfries for instance, it must then be determined whether it may be most economical and advantageous for them to go to Edinburgh or France to finish their studies. All this is supposing them to have great natural genius and goodness of disposition; for without these they can never become eminent. For the females, they require an education suited to the delicacy of character that is becoming in their sex. I wish I had a fortune to offer to each of them; but though this is not the case, I may yet be useful to them. And I desire particularly to be useful to the two young women, who have a double claim to my regard, as they have lost their father. Present my kind compliments to Mrs. Loudon, her husband, to Mr. Taylor, and your two families, and depend on my affectionate attachment...." "Paris, _December 27, 1790_. "I duly received, my dear Mrs. Taylor, your letter of the 16th August, but ever since that time I have been unable to answer it, not having been capable to go out of my chamber, and having been for the most part obliged to keep my bed. I have now no doubt but that I am in a fair way to perfect recovery, though it will require time and patience. "I shall not conceal from you that your family discord aggravates infinitely all my pains. My grief is inexpressible that two sisters, whose happiness is so interesting to me, do not live together in that _mutual tenderness and affection_ which would do so much honour to themselves and to the memory of their worthy relations. Permit me to recommend to your serious _study_ and _application_ Pope's Universal Prayer. You will find more morality in that little piece than in many volumes that have been written by great divines: "'Teach me to feel another's woe, _To hide the fault I see;_ That mercy I to others show, _Such mercy show to me_.' "This is not the language of a weak, superstitious mind, but the spontaneous offspring of true religion, springing from a heart sincerely inspired by charity, and deeply impressed with a sense of the calamities and _frailties_ of human nature. If the sphere in which Providence has placed us as members of society requires the exercise of brotherly kindness and charity toward our neighbour in general, how much more is this our duty with respect to individuals with whom we are connected by the near and tender ties of nature as well as moral obligation. Every lesser virtue may pass away, but _charity_ comes from Heaven, and is immortal. Though I wish to be the instrument of making family peace, which I flatter myself would tend to promote the happiness of you all, yet I by no means desire you to do violence to your own feelings by taking any step that is contrary to your own judgment and inclination. Your reconciliation must come free from your heart, otherwise it will not last, and therefore it will be better not to attempt it. Should a reconciliation take place, I recommend it of all things, that you never mention past grievances, nor show, by _word, look, or action_, that you have not forgot them." "Paris, _December 7, 1791_. "Dear General: My ill health for some time past has prevented me from the pleasure of paying you my personal respects, but I hope shortly to indulge myself with that satisfaction. "I hope you approve the quality of the fur linings I brought from Russia for the King and yourself. I flatter myself that his Majesty will accept from your hand that little mark of the sincere attachment I feel for his person; and be assured that I shall be always ready to draw the sword with which he honoured me for the service of the virtuous and illustrious 'Protector of the Rights of Human Nature.' "When my health shall be established, M. Simolin will do me the honour to present me to his Majesty as a Russian admiral. Afterward it will be my duty, as an American officer, to wait on his Majesty with the letter which I am directed to present to him from the United States." Jones appears in a very pleasant light in all of these letters, and I am glad to read the evidences of gentleness and of affection and kindly feeling which they present. In March, 1792, his disease, which had developed into a lingering form of dropsy, became complicated with a disorder of the liver. He grew much worse, lost his appetite, became very jaundiced, and was confined to his bedroom for two months. Under treatment he grew temporarily better, until the beginning of July, when he became suddenly worse again and the dropsy began to manifest itself once more. The disease attacked his chest. His legs became much swollen, and the enlargement extended upward so that he could not button his waistcoat and had great difficulty in breathing. He was not, as has been asserted, in poverty and want, deserted by his friends. He lived in a comfortable apartment in the second story of No. 42 Tournon Street, and enjoyed the services of one of the best physicians in France, who was, in fact, physician to the queen. Gouverneur Morris, the American Minister, was a warm friend of his, and paid him many visits during his dying hours. He had no lack of other friends either, for he was attended by two gentlemen, ex-American army officers, Colonels Swan and Blackden, and by a French officer, M. Beaupoil. They all seem to have been fond of the little commodore, and to have visited him constantly. They did everything possible to lighten his dying hours. His symptoms became so alarming about the middle of July that Colonel Blackden took upon himself the duty of advising him to make his will and settle his affairs. He put off this action until the 18th of the month. On the afternoon of that day Morris drew up a schedule of his property from Jones' own dictation, and his friends having sent for a notary, he made his will, which was drawn in English by Morris, and transcribed in French by the notary. The will was witnessed by Swan, Blackden, and Beaupoil.[52] In this document--the last of all his writings--dictated in those solemn hours when he looked Death in the face in final glance, the real value of earthly honors and titles became apparent to him; he describes himself with touching simplicity, not as Commodore, Chevalier, or Admiral--titles he had loved--but in greater words as "_John Paul Jones, a citizen of the United States_." At eight o'clock in the evening his friends bade him good by, and perhaps "Good night" were the last words any one heard him speak. They left him seated in his armchair in his parlor in the second story. A short time after their departure the physician arrived to pay his regular evening visit. The armchair was empty, and the door of the chamber adjoining the parlor was open. He walked over toward it and stopped in the entrance, and this is what he saw: the figure of the great commodore lying prone upon the bed, his feet touching the floor and his hands outstretched before him. There was no sound in the still room. The physician stepped softly to the bedside, turned him over, and laid his hand upon his heart. He felt no responsive throb. The little captain of the Bon Homme Richard was dead, worn out, fretted away, broken down, at the age of forty-five! "The hand of a conqueror whom no human power can resist had been laid upon his shoulder, and for the first time in his life the face of Paul Jones was turned away from the enemy."[53] Fitting, indeed, would it have been if from the deck of the war ship the soul of the sea king had taken its flight; but, after all, he was at rest at last--"in peace after so many storms, in honor after so much obloquy." The peculiar position in which he was found, as I have thought upon it, has suggested to me the possibility that, when he felt the last crisis coming upon him, he may have attempted to sink down by his bedside, that the call of his Maker might find him--as years after it found David Livingstone in the heart of dark Africa--on his knees in prayer. And then sometimes I think--and this is perhaps more likely--that he may have risen to his feet to face death, as was his wont, and have fallen forward when it came. No one can tell. A century has fled away since they found him there, but the sorrow of it all is still present with me as I write. An exile from his native land, far from the country of his adoption, in the prime of life, he dies. There was not a woman with him to whisper words of comfort, to give him that last touch of tenderness that comes from a woman's hand. Alone he had lived--alone he died. Oh, the pity of it! The man of the world, become the citizen of the new republic, had found another country--let us hope a heavenly one. He did much and he suffered much, and for such we may be sure there is much charity, much forgiveness. By the terms of his will all his property, amounting to some thirty thousand dollars, was left to his two surviving sisters and their children--the same to whom he had sent those sweet words counseling forbearance and consideration. The fact that he had shown but little of the one and had received but little of the other in his life only accentuates his sense of their need. One other honor his country had in store for him, but it arrived too late. He had been long buried when a commission appointing him to negotiate the release of the prisoners in Algiers arrived in France. It was an honor he would have appreciated, and in carrying it out he would have found a congenial task. The National Assembly honored his memory by sending a deputation, headed by its president, to represent them at his funeral, which took place on the second day after his death, at eight o'clock in the evening. All his friends, including the Americans, were there as well. A French Protestant clergyman named Marron conducted the services and delivered a eulogy, but one sentence of which is worthy of quotation: "The fame of the brave outlives him; his portion is immortality." It has been determined recently that the interment was made in the little cemetery reserved for those who died in the Protestant faith, situated at the corner of the Rue de la Grange aux Belles and Rue des Écluses Saint Martin--then in the suburbs, now in the heart of the city. The cemetery was officially closed on January 1, 1793. A canal was afterward cut through it and buildings erected upon the other, lots. The exact location of Jones' grave is unknown, and, as there were at least ten thousand people buried there, it would probably be a matter of great difficulty to find it, should the effort be made; and the expense would be considerable. The body, clad in an American uniform, was incased in a leaden coffin, with sword,[54] etc., and unless all the elements have been dissipated by the action of the water it might be possible to identify his remains. Certainly there is no question, if satisfactory settlement could be had, that his remains should be brought to the United States, with all naval honors, here to be suitably interred and his grave marked by an appropriate monument. So far as I know, there has not even been so much as a memorial tablet erected to his memory in any part of the great country toward whose independence he contributed so much. A serious and ungrateful omission this, and, whether his remains be found or not, it is to be hoped that it may be soon rectified.[55] CHAPTER XXI. PERSONAL APPEARANCE--CHARACTERISTICS--WAS HE A PIRATE?--FAREWELL. Paul Jones was a small, slender man, somewhat under the middle stature, or about five feet five inches in height. As is frequently the custom with seamen, who pass much of their lives between decks, his shoulders were slightly rounded, and at first glance he seemed smaller than he was. In physique he was active and graceful, well proportioned and strong. Many portraits of him exist, some of them gross caricatures, representing him as the proverbial pirate of early days clad in fantastic costume, his belt bristling with pistols and knives, and depicting him in the act of slaying some terrified and helpless sailor; but it is from such representations as the painting by Peale,[56] the bust by Houdon, the naval medal, and the miniature by the Countess de Lavendahl, that we get a correct idea of his appearance. His features were regular; his nose was straight, prominent, and slightly enlarged at the tip; his lips were elegantly curved. His head was well proportioned, and set firmly upon his shoulders; in spite of his stoop he held it erect, which gave him an intent, eager expression. His large black eyes were set deep in their sockets under heavy, arched eyebrows; in moments of action they sparkled with fire and passion. His hair was black and plentiful, and the darkness of his complexion had been intensified by years of exposure to wind and weather. His hands and feet were small and of good shape. He was always particular in his dress, which was of material as rich and in cut as elegant as his means permitted. Without being handsome, therefore, he was a man of distinctly striking and notable appearance in any society. His habitual expression was thoughtful and meditative. His face was the face of a student rather than that of a fighter. As it looks out at us from the canvas of the past in Peale's portrait, there is a little touch of wonder and surprise in the soft, reflective eyes. The mystery of life is there. We feel that the man is speculating upon us, measuring us, wondering who and what we are. There is a gentle gravity about the face which is most attractive. In the profile on the medal and in the Houdon bust other qualities predominate. You catch a glimpse of the proud, imperious, dashing sailor in the uplifted poise of the head, the tense, straight line of the lips, and the firm, resolute chin; and there is a suggestion of humor, grim enough, in the whole face. The Countess de Lavendahl apparently depicts him in the role of a lover, fashionably attired and arrayed for conquest. In each of these representations we have the broad, splendid brow which typifies the mind that was in him. It is probable that these different portraits were each good likenesses, and that each artist, in accordance with his insight, wrought into his presentment what he saw in the man. A man of abundant self-confidence, he was not easily embarrassed, and we find him at home as well in the refined and cultivated colonial society of North Carolina as upon the decks of a ship manned by the rudest and roughest of men. He bears himself with easy dignity at the courts of Russia and France, and is not discomfited in the presence of king, queen, or empress. His manners were easy and polite. There was a touch of the directness of the sailor and the fighter in his address, I doubt not, but his behavior was certainly that of a gentleman--quiet, dignified, somewhat haughty, but pleasing. This is established by the testimony of those who knew him, including the Englishwoman mentioned above; by traditions which have come down to us; by the fact that he was admitted into the most exclusive circles in various courts of Europe, and that he retained the place which had been accorded him through years of acquaintanceship. He has been called low, brutal, common, and vulgar, but such accusations are incompatible with the position he occupied. He might have been received, of course, but he never would have been not merely tolerated, but admired and sought after, if the charges were correct. In saying this, I do not wish to be understood as being oblivious of his faults. As occasion has demanded, I have not hesitated to call attention to them. He was irritable and impatient, captious and quarrelsome, at times variable and inconsistent. We find him addressing a superior at one time in terms that are almost too respectful, and in his next communication writing with a blunt frankness of a superior to an inferior. This frequently caused him trouble, inasmuch as he usually had to deal with men who were his superiors in birth and station, though not to be compared with him in talents and education. The limitations of his humble origin account for this variant attitude to the world's so-called great. His great fault was his vanity. It was a weakness, like some of his other qualities, colossal. It manifested itself in every way that vanity can manifest itself. No defense can be uttered. We recognize the fact and note it with pain, but in the presence of his great qualities pass it by, after calling attention to the strange fact that other and more famous sailors, including the greatest man who ever fought a ship or squadron, Lord Nelson, were under the spell of the same weakness--and other greater weaknesses. No character in history is without weakness. There was but One who manifested no weakness, not even on a cross. His mind was a well-furnished one. From boyhood he had cultivated the studious habit with which he was endowed in large degree, with the assiduity and perseverance of a Scotsman. He was thoroughness itself; whatever he attempted he did so well that he usually left nothing further to be desired. His brain was alert and active. He was quick-witted, and not devoid of humor, although there is always a touch of sternness in his persiflage. His letters fall into two classes. When he wrote under pressure of strong emotion or excitement, he expressed his personality with his pen as adequately as he did in his actions; his remarks were short, sharp, direct, logical, and in good taste; his style was vigorous and perspicuous. On the other hand, he frequently descended, especially when addressing women, into verbosity, and verbosity of that most intolerable species known as fine writing--witness his letter to Lady Selkirk. As a phrase maker many of his sentences ring with his spirit. "I do not wish to have command of any ship that does not sail fast, for I intend to go in harm's way"; "I have not yet begun to fight"; "I have ever looked out for the honor of the American flag"; "I can never renounce the glorious title of a citizen of the United States," are some of his sayings which have passed into history, and might appropriately serve for inscriptions on the four sides of his monument, when a too tardy people pay him the honor of erecting one.[57] He spoke French well and wrote it better. He found no difficulty in making himself understood in France, and that language was used entirely in his Russian campaign. In an age when everybody scribbled verse he wrote poetry which is creditable to him. It has been remarked that it was much better verse than Nelson wrote. Like many other naval officers of that day, he played the flute and had a taste for music. He was undoubtedly a member of the Presbyterian Church by baptism in infancy, and although, so far as is known, he was not actively in communion with any religious organization during his life, he was in no sense an irreligious man. "They that go down to the sea in ships that do business in great waters," who see "the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep," are rarely ultimately indifferent to religion. They are superficially careless, perhaps, but they are neither skeptics nor atheists.[58] Nothing could be sweeter and more gentle than his letters to his sisters with their unequivocal recognition of the Power above which shapes our ends. In a day when seamen--and no less the naval officer than the merchantman--considered a capacity for picturesque and plentiful profanity a mark of professional aptitude, he was distinguished by refraining from oaths and curses. Mark the words: "Do not swear, Mr. Stacy--in another moment we may all be in eternity--but let us do our duty." Uttered in the heat of action, and in a critical moment, the sentence is as rare as it is beautiful, and it somehow reminds me of the dying words of Nelson in the cockpit of the Victory. He was clean-mouthed and clean-hearted. I do not wish to say that he was immaculate, a saint, or anything of that sort, but there is no man of similar upbringing, who lived in his day, and under such circumstances, whose life appears to be cleaner. There is a total absence of sensuality in his career. In over thirteen hundred letters which have been examined, there is not a coarse or indelicate allusion; no _double entendre_ ever sullies his pages, and the name of no woman is mentioned save in terms of respect. It is probable that his amour with Madame de Telison passed the bounds of Platonic friendship or romantic admiration, and it is possible that they did have a child; but even this is by no means certain, and the conclusion may do him an injustice. When one remembers that from a tender age he was deprived of those gentle restraints imposed by pious and loving family ties, his character is remarkable. I have observed in much experience with men that when the check put upon humanity by the Church, by association with good women, and by keeping in touch with law-abiding society is removed, and men are assembled far from these things in camps or ships, where the principal requirement is a stern obedience to law, and the atmosphere strictly masculine, they are apt to think, say, and do things to which they would never descend under ordinary circumstances. Jones had been a sailor--an apprentice boy at that--at twelve years of age; for sixteen years thereafter he had never been off blue water for more than a few months. Five years of that time he had been on a slaver, beginning as third mate at sixteen and quitting as chief mate at twenty-one, and of all the degrading, brutal influences to which humanity could be subjected there was nothing that equaled the horrors of a ship in the slave trade. The tough moral fiber of the Scotsman stood him in good stead here, for the thing which with a boy's indifference he could countenance, he could not endure as a man. And this brings us to another of his qualities, which awakens our interest--his intense love of liberty. Probably it began with the slave trade; at any rate, it was always and everywhere present with him. Practically his first military effort was an attempt to set free American prisoners, and his last commission from the United States was the appointment to effect the release of the unfortunate Americans held by the Barbary States. Thus he fought not merely for the establishment of civil liberty and national independence, but with an eye single to the individual prisoner, and his spirit was sufficiently catholic to make him kindly disposed even when the prisoners were trophies of his prowess. His pleading at L'Orient, when he was left with the dishonored draft, mutinous crew, and over one hundred prisoners, was as much for those Englishmen whom the fortune of war had thrown into his power as for his own people. Like most men of fierce passions and quick temper, he did not long cherish animosities. He was not a good hater, and this very quality sometimes led him into mistaken kindness. He was a humane man, in no sense the cruel and bloodthirsty warrior of popular imagination. He is thankful, for instance, after the descent on Whitehaven, that there was no loss of life on either side, and we have no reason to doubt the genuineness of his outburst of gratitude when peace was declared, although it left him without occupation. He had a good head for business also. In spite of his roving life he succeeded in amassing considerable property, and his success as a trader before he entered the naval service had been better than the average. In fact, his merchant services resulted in an unbroken line of testimonials not only to his capacity but to his probity and trustworthiness as well. As a negotiator or diplomatist he was open, straightforward, persistent, and unusually successful. A solid foundation of good qualities must have been laid by his homespun mother in those twelve years in which she watched over and shaped the future character of the boy. While he was too much of a wanderer ever to form those deep and abiding social ties which are the delight of old age and reflection--though to youth matters of indifference--yet his various duties brought him into intimate association with great men all over the world, and there is a universal testimony from them as to his worth. They were not blind to his faults, but they saw the worthiness of the man beneath them. Franklin, the keen philosopher and diplomat, who knew him best, esteemed him most; but Robert Morris, the incorruptible financier; Thomas Jefferson, the great Democrat; Gouverneur Morris, the accomplished man of the world; John Adams, the shrewd statesman; and Washington, the first of them all, esteemed and admired him, and considered themselves honored in his friendship. Richard Dale, his great subordinate, who had been with him in times that tried men's souls, entertained the most devoted feelings of attachment toward him, and Cooper, who knew Dale personally, tells us that to the day of his death he never lost his affectionate regard for his old captain. The terms of their intimacy when not on duty permitted Dale to address Jones by the friendly name of Paul, and Cooper chronicles the peculiar tenderness with which he uttered the word in his old age. Among the French who respected and admired him, the gallant and impetuous Lafayette is pre-eminent. That warm-hearted representative of the haute noblesse of France sought opportunities for service with the commodore, and never failed to express his affection for him in the most unequivocal words. Among others were Rochambeau, the soldier; Malesherbes, the great advocate, defender of his king; the Baron de Viomenil, who led the French assaulting column at Yorktown; and Admirals d'Orvilliers, de Vaudreuil, and d'Estaing. Among other foreign friends were van der Capellen, the Dutch statesman and diplomat and friend of America; of Russians, Krudner and Grimm; and the immortal Kosciusko, of Poland. His acquaintance with these men was no mere passing contact, but was intimate and personal; and his relations in most instances were not temporary and casual, but lasting and permanent. Laughton, the English authority in naval history, in his famous sketch entitled "Paul Jones, 'the Pirate'"[59] says that Jones' moral character may be summed up in one word--detestable! He calls him a renegade and a calculating liar, incapable of friendship or of love, and says that, "Whenever his private actions can be examined, they must be pronounced to be discreditable; and as to many others that appear to be so, there is no evidence in favor except his own unsubstantial and worthless testimony." It is not an indictment against Jones alone that Professor Laughton so lightly writes, but against the great men who, with infinitely better opportunities for observation than any of his biographers have enjoyed, have not been slow to call him their friend. Is it to be conceived for a single moment that Franklin, Jefferson, Lafayette, the Morrises, or any of the others, would have associated with, corresponded with, and publicly praised a vulgar blackguard? Would such a man, however successful, have been admitted to any society whatsoever? Or, having in the first flush of joy at the news of his tremendous victory been so admitted, could such a man have retained his position for thirteen years--until he died, in fact? Nonsense! He looked like a gentleman; he wrote like a gentleman; whenever his words have been recorded we find he spoke like a gentleman, and he certainly fought like one. Never was a man so calumniated. His actions were so great that intense interest was felt in his career from the day of his arrival in Europe, and after his death quantities of sketches of him appeared, many of which are still extant. They are of the chap-book order--the dime novel of the day--and usually contain an awe-inspiring picture, and relate a tale in which smuggling, gambling, falsehood, theft, rape, murder, and everything else that is vile, are included. Laughton seems to have arrived at his estimation of Jones by accepting these scandalous tales as authentic, and building his biography of material culled from these disgraceful and discredited sources. No man can conceal his real character for any great length of time, especially a man in official station, who lives in the white light of public criticism. If Jones were the creature that Laughton describes him, it would appear somewhere in some serious page of his own. He was a most voluminous correspondent--Philip II was not a more indefatigable letter writer than he--and he spoke of the subjects under discussion with a sailor's frankness. Why is it that none of these things are evident? He was foolish sometimes, but never base. It is too late to write down in a few careless words the great men who entertained so high an opinion of the commodore. But Professor Laughton is not alone in his opinions. Indeed, his conclusions appear to represent a general English sentiment. So great a novelist as the gentle Thackeray calls Jones a traitor, and the popular opinion even in this day does not seem to have changed. In the current number of the London Academy[60] he is again called a "pirate." Let us settle this question at least. What is a pirate? Says President Woolsey: "Piracy is robbery on the sea, or by descent from the sea upon the coast, committed by persons not holding a commission from, or at the time pertaining to, any established state. It is the act (1) of persons forming an organization for the purpose of plunder, or with malicious intent; but who, inasmuch as such a body is not constituted for political purposes, can not be said to be a body politic; (2) of persons who, having in defiance of law seized possession of a chartered vessel, use it for the purpose of robbery; (3) of persons taking a commission from two belligerent adversaries. The reason for ranking these latter among pirates is that the _animus furandi_ is shown by acting under two repugnant authorities. It has been held by some that a vessel which takes commissions even from two allies is guilty of piracy, but others regard such an act only as illegal and irregular."[61] Chancellor Kent calls piracy "robbery, forceful plunder, or murder by marauders on the high seas _in the spirit and intent of universal hostility_." The Century Dictionary defines it as follows: "Specifically in the law of nations, the crime of depredations or willful and aggressive destruction of life and property, committed on the seas by persons having no commission or authority from any established state. As commonly used, it implies something more than a simple theft with violence at sea, and includes something of the idea of general hostility to law." By any of these definitions can Paul Jones be called a pirate? It will be readily seen that the charge hangs upon the question as to whether Jones held a commission from an established state. In fact, the determination of that point settles the matter. He was regularly commissioned a captain in the navy of the United States, as we have seen.[62] Was the United States an established power, a sovereign state? The United States began to be with the Declaration of Independence. To quote Woolsey again: "The sovereignty of a state dates from its _de facto_ existence, and does not depend upon its recognition by foreign powers. Thus the sovereignty of the United States was complete from July 4, 1776, not 1782, when the English Government recognized, not granted, its independence." If the United States had not a legal existence as a sovereign power competent to wage war, and therefore to issue commissions to naval officers, until the treaty of peace, England would have granted independence thereby, instead of which she recognized a long-accomplished fact. Moreover, the British Government, long before peace was declared, had conceded belligerent rights to the revolted colonies, after much protestation. But necessary privileges of belligerency are those of raising forces and commissioning officers whose status as individual belligerents is determined by the recognition. None of the American prisoners taken from time to time were hanged as rebels or traitors, nor would such action have been permitted by the British people, if it had been seriously entertained by the king. Even if they had captured Paul Jones, the English, in all their fury, would not have dared to treat him as a pirate. Upon the point of law there is no justification for the charge. Paul Jones' commission was as valid a document as any under which a naval officer ever sailed. The sovereignty of the United States had been recognized long before the termination of the war by France, Spain, and Holland, and Frederick the Great, by opening the port of Dantzic to American ships, had practically committed himself to that side; although the failure of any or all of these to do so would not have abrogated our _de facto_ existence as a nation. But, turning from the subject of the commission as established, let us examine the other phases involved in the charge. Piracy consists of murder and robbery in a spirit of universal hostility toward humanity (the _animus furandi_ of Woolsey's paragraph). Jones directed his attacks at England alone. There was no killing unless in open combat; no robbery except by taking ships and property in open warfare, and surely Jones' conduct with regard to Selkirk's plate was not that of a robber or a pirate! By the law of nations a pirate, whatever his nationality, is subject to the jurisdiction of any country. Thus, an English pirate caught by the French Government, or a French pirate caught by the English Government, would be summarily dealt with without the slightest reference to the country of his nationality. If Jones had been a pirate France would either have made short work of him, or else have incurred the odium of humanity as an abettor of piracy. His acts were not those of an irresponsible person or a body of people who sent him forth with malicious intent, but were undertaken for distinctly political purposes at the instance of an undoubted body politic. These purposes were: (1) The protection of our coasts by showing the vulnerability of the coasts of England. (2) The stoppage of the ravages on our seaboard, by demonstrating some of their horrors in the land of the ravagers. (3) The securing of prisoners by which the principle of exchange should be established, and thus our citizens released from a captivity in which they were treated with scant regard to the laws of humanity. (4) The breaking up of the enemy's commerce and the impairment of his material resources, so that the burden of consequences would induce him to end the war and recognize our independence. (5) The making of a diversion in the north which would facilitate the proposed grand operations of the French and Spanish fleets in the south. These are legitimate motives in the highest sense. They are of the deepest importance, and they constitute a brief catalogue of his accomplishments. Add to the list the shattering of British prestige by his hard and successful fighting, and mention the way he contrived to force the Netherlands finally to declare for the United States, and we have a catalogue of achievements of which any one might be proud.[63] There was no thought in Jones' mind of private gain. Prize money had accrued from captures from time immemorial, but Jones was ambitious of distinction, and as anxious to worthily serve his country as Farragut or Sampson, and the question of prize money was purely a minor one with him. If gain had been his object, a privateering commission which he was urged to accept in France--and which he could undoubtedly have received in America--but which he rejected with disdain, would have given him greater opportunity than he ever enjoyed of acquiring wealth. His whole career, in fact, shows him to have been absolutely indifferent to money. He never hoarded or amassed it, and, though he received large sums from time to time, he usually spent it in generous profusion as fast as it came in. Had professional advancement been his sole desire, he would have accepted the rank of _Capitaine de Vaisseau_--that is, a captain of a ship of the line--which d'Orvilliers had offered to procure for him, from which he might have progressed to the highest naval rank, instead of which he chose to remain in command of the petty little Ranger. How Laughton can deny his enthusiasm for America when, with but little hope of reward, he periled his liberty and his life in her service, and absolutely refused under any circumstances to withdraw from that service, I fail to understand.[64] He did not, in defiance of law, charter a vessel for the purpose of waging private war. On the contrary, his ship was provided by the French king, and commissions for those officers who had not been commissioned directly by Congress, as had Jones himself, were issued by Franklin, who possessed the unquestioned power to do this by the specific action of Congress. Indeed, such was Franklin's power, that when he displaced Landais from his command he did not hesitate to overrule a commission issued by Congress under circumstances of peculiar importance, and he was upheld by that body when his action was called in question. Nor did Jones take a commission from two belligerent adversaries--that is, he had no commission from England which he threw up to accept that of the United States. He had never served in the English navy in any capacity. There were officers in the United States land service who had held English commissions and yet accepted American commands, but Jones was not one of them. He had never, until he entered the Russian service, sailed under any commission save that of the United States, and one of the noblest acts of his life was his indignant repudiation of a French letter of marque when his acceptance of it was considered the only way of saving his head. Nothing could induce him to declare the Alliance a French ship in those hazardous moments in the Texel when he was menaced by the Dutch fleet on one side and the English fleet on the other, nor would he even temporarily hoist the French flag on that ship. He did not even commit the so-called illegal and irregular act of accepting a commission from two allies, for he refused a French commission again and again. This certainly constitutes a clear and overwhelming refutation of the charge of piracy. Indeed, on the question of piracy, Jones' own ingenious comment is not without interest. Laughton has called attention to it in the following words: "Paul Jones strongly objected to the word as applied to himself; he had, he said, looked in the dictionary and found the definition of pirate to be 'an enemy against mankind.' Now, he was not the enemy of mankind, but only the enemy of England. With a _tu quoque_ argument, not wanting in ingenuity, he urged that, as England was then at war with the whole of America, the greater part of Europe, and much of Asia, not to speak of a part of Africa, she, in point of fact, came as near being the enemy of mankind as could well be conceived--that England was therefore the pirate, not Paul Jones." Why was it that the English called him a pirate, put a price on his head, and attempted to compass his death or capture by private hands? Why was it that he evoked such widespread animosity, and became the object of a hatred which has not exhausted itself to this day? Surely not because he had been a British subject! All who fought on the American side had been British subjects. Jones had removed to America and had determined to settle there before the war broke out. Why should any one attempt to insinuate that the same feelings which actuated Adams, Washington, and Patrick Henry did not operate to make him espouse the colonial cause? He was as fond of freedom as they, and as anxious to promote it. Many of the most distinguished colonists were not only British subjects, but they had worn the king's uniform, fought under the king's flag, and eaten the king's bread; as, for instance, the great Washington. Richard Montgomery, an Irishman, who laid down a life valuable to his adopted country when he fell in the assault on Quebec, had been a British officer; and there were many others, some of whom, like the traitor Charles Lee and the worthless Gates, were actually half-pay officers in the British army when they entered the American service! Among the naval officers, the heroic Biddle, who matched the little Randolph, of thirty-two small guns, against the huge line of battle ship Yarmouth, and fought until his ship was blown to pieces, and he and all his crew were lost except four men, had been a midshipman in the British navy with Nelson. Stout old John Barry, who commanded the Alliance when he captured the Atlanta and the Trepassy, and fought the last action of the war by beating the frigate Sibylle, of superior force, was an Irishman.[65] The most bigoted Englishmen to-day speak of those men with respect which they will not accord to Jones. Why is this? The reason for the strange exception lies in the brilliant success with which he cruised and fought. The English claimed and exercised an absolute and practically undisputed supremacy on the high seas. Their arrogant navy for more than a hundred years had been invincible. In single ship actions they had always conquered. No enemy had landed on their shores for over a century. They could stand being beaten on land--they were accustomed to it. With few notable exceptions England does not produce great soldiers--Carlyle feelingly refers to the average English commander as a "wooden hoop pole wearing a cocked hat"[66]--but such a line of sailors as had sprung from their shores has never been equaled in the history of the world. Such sea leadership and such sea fighting has never been exceeded, or even equaled, by any nation.[67] The capture of the Serapis was a trifling circumstance; it did not impair the naval efficiency or abridge the maritime supremacy of England an appreciable degree; but it had a moral significance that could not be misunderstood by the nations of the world. They saw and approved.[68] English ships had been beaten in fair fight, in one instance by a ship of equal, and in the other instance of inferior, force. The English coasts, in spite of swarms of great ships of the line, had been shown to be as vulnerable as any other.[69] The affront had been to her pride, and never since the days that brave old Tromp--gallant Dutchman, for whose character I have the greatest admiration--swept the narrow seas with a broom at his masthead, and actually entered the Thames under that same provoking emblem, had England suffered such naval humiliation. The English cheek tingles still from the blow dealt upon it by the hot-handed sailor. Naturally, they did not love Paul Jones. The hatred, which after a hundred years still rankles, is evidence of what they feel--and what he did! As for us, we love the bold little captain for the enemies he has made. It has been stated by unthinking people that the Bon Homme Richard was a privateer or a letter of marque: in one case an armed vessel owned by private individuals and authorized, under certain restrictions, to cruise at private expense to prey upon the commerce of the enemy; in the other case, an armed vessel engaged in trade, but possessing the right to capture ships of the enemy should she happen to fall in with them. There is nothing disgraceful about either of these commissions, though, to be sure, their essence consists in making war for individual gain. The Bon Homme Richard was purchased and converted into a man-of-war by the French Government, and then loaned to the American Government for the time being. De Chaumont acted only as the representative of the king--that is, of the Government. There was no question of individual gain in the matter. The money for the sale of the prizes was received, and the share of Jones was paid, by the French Government. Therefore it was a Government ship, not a private vessel. France and the United States were allies in a war against England when she was commissioned, and the transaction was customary and legitimate. The Bon Homme Richard was as bona fide an American man-of-war as the Constitution. Of course, there could be no exception to the status of the Ranger or any of the earlier ships in which Paul Jones sailed. I have considered the personal character and professional status of Paul Jones, now let me say a few words as to his qualities as an officer. Here at last we reach a field in which there is practically little disagreement. First of all, he was a thorough and accomplished seaman. His experiences had been many and varied. His handling of the Providence in the Gut of Canso, of the Alfred along the coast of Cape Breton, his splendid seamanship in the Ariel in the terrific gale off the Penmarques, his daring passage of the Baltic amid the winter gales and ice, not to speak of the way he maneuvered the Richard in the battle with the Serapis, all tell the same story of skill and address. Not only did he understand the sailing of ships, but he acquired no small familiarity with the principles of naval architecture. Witness his remodeling of the Alliance, the improvements he introduced in the America, and the skillful way he managed the launching of that ship. Some of his suggestions were radical, and some of the principles he laid down were embodied in shipbuilding by naval architects until the advent of the ironclad age. He was a stern disciplinarian, and usually managed to work his very indifferent crews into something like fair shape. In none of his commands did he have a first-class crew of American seamen, such as the 1812 frigates exhibited. His sway on his ships was absolute. His officers were generally creatures of his own making (Simpson being an exception), and completely under his domination; with few exceptions, like Dale, whom he loved and respected, they were poor enough. In his passionate impatience with their stupidity or inefficiency, he sometimes treated them with great indignity, even going to the length of kicking them out of the cabin when they displeased him.[70] He was a fierce commander, who brooked no interference, needed no suggestions, and had no tolerance for ignorance and incapacity. Notwithstanding all this, he was a merciful captain in an age in which the gospel of force, punctuated by the cat-o'-nine-tails, was the only one in vogue on ships of war. He resorted but rarely to the practice of flogging, and in comparison with most commanders of the period his rule was not intolerable. He did not, however, inspire affection in his crews; they respected his talents, trusted to his skill, and admired his courage, but nothing more. His men were drilled and exercised incessantly, and target practice was had as frequently as the poverty of his supplies permitted. His ships were all notably clean and orderly. As a commander we may consider his achievements from three points of view: as a strategist, as a tactician, and as a fighter. Strategic operations tend to bring you where sound policy dictates you should be, while tactical maneuvers refer to the manipulation of your force at the point of contact. A man may be a brilliant strategist and a poor tactician, or the reverse; or he may be both, and yet not be a hard, determined fighter. Jones was all three in large measure. His strategic conceptions were excellent. His successful destruction of the fishery industry at Canso, and his attempt upon the coal fleet in the Alfred; the brilliant plan which would have resulted in the capture of Lord Howe by d'Estaing if it had been carried out in time; the project he conceived for taking the homeward-bound East Indiamen by capturing St. Helena as a base of attack, and the other enterprises he urged upon the French Government indicate these things; but the conception which lifted him above the ordinary sea officer was his acute realization of the great principle that should regulate commerce destroying, which is one of the legitimate objects of warfare, and merciful in that it tends to end the conflict, and is aimed at property rather than life. His idea was that, to be successfully accomplished, it could not be committed to the cruiser or commerce destroyer, but that attacks on centers of trade must be made by forces sufficiently mobile to enable them to cover great distances rapidly, and sufficiently strong to defeat any reasonable force, and then crush the enemy's commerce at vital points. A single ship may catch a single ship upon the high seas, or from a fleet in convoy perhaps cut out two or three; but a descent upon a great body of shipping in a harbor--unprotected as were the harbors of those days--would result in an infinitely greater loss to the enemy. Mahan has demonstrated that the necessary preliminary to the destruction of the enemy's commerce is to batter his navy to pieces--then it is at one's mercy. So far as I know, Jones is the only sailor of his day, or of many subsequent days in any navy, who had a glimmer of an idea in this direction; and, without detracting from Mahan's originality, in a limited sense Jones forestalled him. Mahan, indeed, gives him full credit for his genius on this very point. The beginning of strategy is to determine the vital point at which to aim, and Jones began well. He tried to carry out his idea of commerce destroying with the Ranger in the Irish Channel, and he came near enough to success to demonstrate the absolute feasibility and value of his conception, given adequate force to carry it out. He had a greater force, of course, under his partial command in his famous cruise in the Bon Homme Richard, but the peculiar constitution of that squadron, which was an assemblage of co-operative ships rather than a compact body responsive and obedient to one will, also prevented him from carrying out his plans. Suppose, for instance, that the Alliance had obeyed his orders, and that the Vengeance, the Cerf, and the privateers had remained with the Pallas under his command, and that all had been well officered and manned! He would have taken the Serapis in half an hour or less, and the great Baltic fleet, worth millions of dollars, would have been at his mercy. What he attempted at Leith he could have carried out at Newcastle and Hull. The largest force under his command was the Russian squadron in the Liman. He chose his admirable position there with an eye to its strategic possibilities, and it was due to him, and not to the trained and veteran soldier Suvorof, that the fort was placed on Kinburn Point, which practically determined the fate of Otchakoff, since it prevented the Turks from re-enforcing their fleet, and kept them from escaping after Jones had defeated them. Fortune never gave him an opportunity, but it can not be doubted from what he did accomplish with an inferior force that if he had been given a chance he would have made a name for himself as a sea strategist not inferior to that of Nelson or Sampson. As a tactician he was even more able--perhaps because he enjoyed better opportunities. It was seamanship and tactics which enabled him to escape from the Solebay, and it was seamanship and tactics by which he diverted the Milford from the pursuit of his prizes and insured their safety. His tactics when he fought the Drake were admirable. In his famous battle with the Serapis they were even more striking. One never ceases to wonder how he succeeded in maneuvering his slow, unwieldy ship so as to nullify the greater speed and gun power of the Serapis. His action in laying the Bon Homme Richard aboard the English frigate was the one chance that he had of success, and he made that chance himself. His tactics in the Liman were even higher than elsewhere. It was he who so maneuvered the boats of the flotilla on June 17th as to precipitate the flight of the Turks; it was he who again, on June 28th and 29th, so placed his ships that he drove the Turks from their stranded flagships. It was he who dispatched the flotilla to clear the right flank, which would have enabled the Russians to take possession of the two frigates if Nassau had not foolishly burned them. It was he who, by his splendid disposition of his ships and the battery on the point, forced the Turkish ships to take ground upon the shoals, in their attempt to escape, where Nassau destroyed them. On the other hand, he was never reckless. He coolly calculated chances and judiciously chose the right course, and he was happy in that the right course was usually the bold and daring one. In the third capacity of an officer, there is no question as to his willingness and ability to fight. No one ever called him a coward. He certainly exhibited the very highest reach of physical bravery. It was not the courage of the braggart, for he was not continually thrusting it in the face of people on all occasions. Having established his reputation, he was content to rest upon it, and did not seek opportunity--which he did not need--for further demonstration. Nothing could surpass the personal courage and determination with which he fought his ships. Unlike most commanders, who confine their efforts to direction, he labored and fought with his own hands. We find him heading the boarders on the forecastle of the Richard, and, pike in hand, repelling those from the Serapis; he assists in lashing the two ships together; he takes personal command of the quarter-deck guns, one of which, with the assistance of a few resolute souls, he dragged across the deck from the unengaged side. When the Ariel was drifting in deadly peril upon the Penmarques, with his own hand he heaves the lead. At Kinburn, after repeated efforts to get the galley fleet to move, he leads it forward himself. To ascertain the depth of water, he goes in a small boat under the walls of Otchakoff, within easy range of the cannon. He takes his barge on the Liman in the midst of the hottest engagement, and rows about through the contestants. When the assault is made on the flotilla under the walls of that town, he leads in person, and captures two gunboats by boarding. At Whitehaven, alone he confronts a mob and keeps them in check until the fire which he started himself has gained sufficient headway. The bullying of the Dutch admiral in the Texel can not move him a single foot. While he did not always exhibit the same amount of moral courage, yet in some very interesting situations he showed that he possessed it in large measure. His physical courage was, of course, natural. His moral courage seems to have arisen in part from an absolute confidence in his own ability and an habitual reliance upon the accuracy of his own judgment. He showed this moral courage when, at the peril of his commission, he assumed the responsibility of piloting the Alfred to her anchorage in the Bahama expedition. He showed it particularly when, after assuming the proper position demanded by good strategy in the opening of the Liman campaign, he refused to be moved from it by the representations of such fire eaters as Nassau and Alexiano. His declining to hoist the French flag, or to sail under a French letter of marque, were evidences of this quality, and he showed it again by sending a present to Louis XVI in the dark days of the Revolution, when respect to the king in his hours of humiliation marked a man immediately. On the other hand, he showed a sad lack of moral courage if de Ségur's statement be true that he found him, pistol in hand, in his apartments in St. Petersburg, apparently contemplating suicide. Moral courage is perhaps a more universal requisite for true greatness of character than any other virtue, and he did not rise in this sphere quite to the height he attained in the others. In other words, he was greater as a commander and as an officer than as a man. As a commander he made mistakes. What commander did not? His quickness to imagine or to resent a slight was marred by too great a willingness to forgive. His treatment of the mutinous Simpson was entirely too gentle and forgiving for the maintenance of that discipline necessary to the welfare of the service. It was certainly a mistake to yield to Landais' importunities and leave the advantageous situation off Limerick, and, as I have stated, the excuse was worse than the action. His failure to keep his promise to his men after leaving Corunna in the Alliance was a more serious blunder. There are few professions in which the word of an officer is so implicitly relied upon by his inferiors as in the naval service. The lives of the crew are so entirely in the hands of the officers that without confidence the situation is impossible. His extravagant outfitting of the Alliance was also a wrong to Franklin under the circumstances. His method of dealing with the mutiny on the Alliance and with Landais' successful attempt to get command of her was weak, and can only be explained by the postulation that he did not really desire to get possession of her; but even the explanation leaves him in a bad position. His dawdling at L'Orient is also censurable. This, however, is a small catalogue in view of what he attempted and accomplished. Otherwise in his campaigns and in his military life he made no blunders. He has been severely censured for choosing localities with which he was familiar from childhood as the scene of his military operations. The war of the Revolution was practically a civil war, with all the rancorous passions attendant thereon superadded to those ordinarily engendered in conflict. In America, friend met friend in deadly hatred, and not one royalist or rebel hesitated to use his local knowledge for the advancement of his cause. In accordance with his duty, by his oath as an officer, Jones was bound to put all the information as well as the ability he possessed at the services of the country under whose flag he fought. He was not born at Whitehaven, and, while he had sailed from the port many times, he had no special attachment for the place and people which comes from long association in society and business. When he made his famous descent upon the place it was seven years since he had set foot in it. At any rate, he was only doing in England what other people on both sides were doing in America without censure, and he was doing it with so much more respect to the laws of civilized warfare, and with so much more mercy, that there is no comparison between his forays and those, let us say, of Lord Dunmore, for instance, or Mowatt at Portland. The journal of an officer of the Serapis, who was killed in the action, was found after the battle was over. He had been under Dunmore's command in Virginia at the outbreak of the Revolution, and such a tale of maraudings, accompanied by destruction of property, murdering, and outraging of women as the volume contained would have been incredible had it not been confirmed by the statement of hundreds of witnesses in America. None of this kind of warfare was waged where Jones commanded. A century and a decade, lacking two years, have elapsed since the lonely little commander entered upon his long, long rest; and the country whose first banner was hoisted by his hands at the masthead of the Alfred, whose permanent standard was flung to the breeze by the same hands from the truck of the Ranger, whose ensign was first saluted by one of the greatest powers of the world through his address and determination, whose flag was made respectable in the eyes of the world by the desperate gallantry with which he fought under it, which alone among the powers that sailed the sea through him demonstrated its ability to meet successfully the Mistress of the Ocean, has done nothing to perpetuate the memory of this founder of the Republic and rescue him from oblivion. The place of his grave is known, but squalid tenements and cheap stores have been erected over his remains. Commerce, trade, and traffic, restless life with its passions, noble and ignoble, flows on above his head, and it is probable that so it will be until the end of time. "So runs the world away!" It is all so mournful in some strange way. In spite of his glory and his heroism, in spite of his strenuous life and his strugglings, the note that lingers in my mind as I write these concluding words is one of sadness. I read of hopes that brought no fruition; of plans made and abandoned; of opportunities that could not be embraced; of great attempts frustrated by inadequate means; of triumphs forgotten. I see a great life that might have been greater, a man of noble qualities marred by petty faults, and yet I love him. I can not tell why exactly, but the words of Solomon come into my mind as the vision of the little captain appears before me, dying alone of a broken heart, fretted away--_Vanitas vanitatem_. And yet he did not live in vain, and his exploits shall live forever in the minds of his countrymen. So long as we possess that masculine virility which is the heritage of a great nation whose rugged coasts are washed by thousands of leagues of beating seas; so long as the beautiful flag we love waves above the mighty Republic, which, true to the principles of its founders, stands in every quarter of the globe for freedom of person, for liberty of conscience, for respect to law, so long shall the story be told of the little captain from the far land who loved these things, and who fought so heroically to establish and to maintain them. APPENDIX I. CONCERNING JOHN PAUL'S ASSUMPTION OF THE NAME OF JONES. A. _Letter of Mr. W. M. Cumming, of Wilmington, N. C., May 21, 1899_. "John Paul adopted the name of Jones in token of affectionate regard for the Honorable Willie (pronounced Wylie) Jones, of North Carolina, and his beautiful and charming wife, who had both been very kind to him in his days of obscurity. He was particularly devoted to Mrs. Jones, and called himself her son. It was through the influence of Honorable Willie Jones (member of Congress, I think, from North Carolina), that John Paul obtained his commission in the navy of the young Republic, and it was about this time that he adopted the name of his friend and patron." B. _Letter of Mr. Junius Davis, of Wilmington, N. C., February 23, 1900_. "I first heard from my father, the late Hon. George Davis, who was a devoted student of the history of North Carolina, and perhaps the highest authority in the State upon such subjects, that _Paul_, shortly after going to Virginia to take the estate left him by his brother, met Willie Jones of this State; that Jones took a fancy to him and invited him to pay him a visit in North Carolina; that Paul did so and remained quite a long time with him and became so attached to Jones and his wife that he adopted their name. _Willie_--pronounced _Wylie_--Jones and his brother Allan were educated at Eton, and were gentlemen of large means, high ability, and devoted Whigs. They were prominent in every movement and assembly in this State prior to and during the Revolution. Allan lived upon his plantation, 'Mount Gallant,' in Halifax County, and Willie upon his, 'The Grove,' in the adjoining county of North Hampton. They were warm friends and associates of Joseph Hewes, of Edenton, one of the delegates from North Carolina to the first and second Provincial Congresses. Wheeler, the historian of North Carolina in his Reminiscences and Memoirs of North Carolina and Eminent North Carolinians, says as follows: "'The daring and celebrated John Paul Jones, whose real name was John Paul, of Scotland, when quite young visited Mr. Willie Jones at Halifax, and became so fascinated with him and his charming wife that he adopted their family name. Under this name, John Paul Jones, he offered his services to Congress and was made a lieutenant, December 22, 1775, on the recommendation of _Willie_ Jones.' ... Jones in the very outset of his Autobiography says: 'I at the same time acquainted Mr. Hewes, a member of Congress and my particular friend, with the project for seizing the island of St. Helena,' etc. This is the Mr. Hewes mentioned above. In the second Congress Hewes was at the head of the committee in charge of naval affairs, and was virtually the first Secretary of the Navy. Paul could only have known Hewes, whom he calls his particular friend, through the Joneses, and it has always been one of the traditions of this State that it was the Jones influence with Hewes that got Paul his lieutenancy in the American navy. In a letter received recently from my aged kinsman, Colonel Cadwallader Jones, of Rock Hill, South Carolina, a lineal descendant of _Allan_ Jones, I find that Colonel Jones' mother was a granddaughter of General Allan Jones, was raised by him, married in 1810, and lived in Halifax until 1826. Up to this time she was a frequent visitor at 'The Grove,' the residence of Willie Jones, as was also Colonel Cadwallader Jones. The latter, who is now eighty-six years of age, has always heard that John Paul assumed the name of Jones as a mark of respect and affection for these brothers, Willie and Allan Jones, and for the wife of the former, whose virtues might well win the admiration of any man. Colonel Jones remembers his aunt, Mrs. Willie Jones, perfectly; she survived her husband many years. The statement that John Paul was invited by Willie Jones to visit 'The Grove' while he was looking after his property in Virginia is corroborated by Colonel Jones.... I quote the following from newspaper clippings: "1. From the Charleston Observer of November, 1899: "'Fredekicksburg, Va., _November_ 18_th_. "'The announcement that the remains of that distinguished naval hero, John Paul Jones, have been located in Paris, France, brings to light that the deceased was once a resident of this city. According to the records of the county court, he came here in 1773 to administer on the records of his brother, William Paul, who lived here in 1772. William Paul came here in 1760 and shortly afterward entered the mercantile business, in which he was engaged up to the time of his death. The store occupied by him is on the corner of Main and Market Streets, and is the same building in which George Washington was made a Mason. Tradition also says that one of the rooms in the building was used by John Paul during his residence here, which was nearly two years, as his lodging quarters. It was also during his citizenship here that he received his appointment from the Colonial Congress as lieutenant in the navy. It was here, too, that he added Jones to his patronymic, which, it is said, was in token of the friendly act of Colonel Willie Jones, of North Carolina, who became his bondsman for five hundred pounds when he administered on his brother's estate.' "2. The State, Columbia, S. C., Monday, November 6, 1899: "'Saratoga, Buckingham County, Va., _February_ 22,1899. "'... While no Revolutionary biography can boast more public events of vivid and intense interest than that of Paul Jones, none is so bare and meager in personal detail. Even the fact that he has immortalized a name which was his only by selection and adoption is slurred over in history with the calm statement that "he changed his name for unknown reasons." As the reasons were not unknown, and, however difficult to obtain later, were then easily accessible, it appears to have been rather a lack of careful and intelligent investigation than of facts which caused their suppression. They are now for the first time given to the public.... In 1773, the death of his brother in Virginia, whose heir he was, induced him to settle in America. It was then he added to his name and thenceforth was known as "Paul Jones." This was done in compliment to one of the most noted statesmen of that day, and in the love and gratitude it shadows forth is a scathing reproach and a touching example to a people who could neglect in life and forget in death. It appears that before permanently settling in Virginia, moved by the restlessness of his old seafaring life, he wandered about the country, finally straying to North Carolina. There he became acquainted with two brothers, Willie and Allan Jones. They were both leaders in their day, and wise and honored in their generation. Allan Jones was an orator and silver-tongued; Willie Jones, the foremost man of his State, and one of the most remarkable of his time.... "'His home, "The Grove," near Halifax, was not only the resort of the cultivated, the refined, but the home of the homeless, Mrs. Jones having sometimes twenty orphan girls under her charge, and it was here the young adventurer, John Paul Jones, was first touched by those gentler and purer influences which changed not only his name but himself, from the rough and reckless mariner into the polished man of society, who was the companion of kings and the lion and pet of Parisian salons. The almost worshiping love and reverence awakened in his hitherto wild and untamed nature by the generous kindness of these brothers found expression in his adoption of their name. The truth of this account is ... attested by the descendants of Willie Jones. "'In addition to the above, I would say that General Allan Jones of the Revolution was my great-great-grandfather. My grandmother was raised by him, and was often at "The Grove," the residence of her great-uncle, Willie Jones. My father, Colonel Cadwallader Jones, now eighty-six years of age, in his youth was also often an inmate of "The Grove," and heard the facts spoken in both families. "'A. I. Robertson, "'Secretary Columbia Chapter, D. A. R.'" C. _Letter of Mrs. A. I. Robertson, of Columbia, S. C., April 14, 1900_. "John Paul was thrown more with Mr. and Mrs. _Willie_ Jones, I think, than _Allan_, as he was more at 'The Grove' (the residence of Willie Jones) than at 'Mount Gallant' (the residence of Allan Jones), though a great deal at both places. I have an exact facsimile of the commission which these brothers got for him, which appeared in the World, February 11, 1900. "Mrs. Allan Jones was Mary Haynes, married 1762; their daughter Sarah married General William R. Davis. "Mrs. Willie Jones was Mary Mumford, daughter of Joseph Mumford, son of Robert Mumford and wife Anne, daughter of Robert Bland. These two Mrs. Jones are spoken of in Mrs. Elliot's Women of the Revolution, Wheeler's History of North Carolina, and Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography. "I quote you the following from the family book of my father: 'When the army of Cornwallis passed through Halifax to Virginia, his officers quartered for some time in the town. Colonel Tarleton was at "The Grove," the residence of Willie Jones. He had been wounded in the _hand_ at Cowpens by a sabre cut by Colonel William Washington. Speaking of Colonel Washington, Tarleton said he was a common, illiterate fellow, hardly able to write his name. "Ah, colonel," said Mrs. Jones, "you ought to know better, for you bear upon your person proof that he knows _very well how to mark his mark_."' I inclose a MS. of my father on the subject, which you are at liberty to copy." _MS. of Colonel Cadwallader Jones inclosed in above Letter_. "Paul Jones--Why he changed his name--Colonel Hubard's account. "A recent sketch of the life of Paul Jones in the Century has revived the memory of his gallant achievements, and rekindled public interest in this famous hero. There is much inquiry as to his reason for adopting the name of Jones. It is not a little remarkable that such an incident in the life of one so renowned should be so soon forgotten. "Let me tell you what I know about this man and how I know it; the public mind needs to be refreshed. When John Paul came to Virginia, some three years before the war of the Revolution, looking after an estate left him by his brother, he visited Halifax, North Carolina, at that time a place of considerable repute. Here he made the acquaintance of those grand old patriots, Allen and Willie Jones; he was a young man but an old tar, with a bold, frank sailor bearing that attracted their attention; he became a frequent visitor at their homes, where he was always welcome; he soon grew fond of them, and as a mark of his esteem and admiration, he adopted their name. Why John Paul became John Paul Jones--it was his fancy...." D. _Letter of General Edward McCrady, of Charleston, S. C., April 3, 1900_. "Mrs. McCrady was the granddaughter of General William R. Davie, of Revolutionary fame, who married the daughter of General Allan Jones, of Mount Gallant, Northampton, North Carolina. Tradition in her branch of the family has been that it was _Allan_ Jones who befriended John Paul, and not his brother _Willie_--pronounced _Wylie_, not Willie. It was in honor of Allan Jones that he adopted the name of Jones as surname to that of Paul...." E. In a subsequent letter from Mr. Junius Davis, Wilmington, North Carolina, dated April 24, 1900, he writes as follows: "In respect to the name of Jones, I never heard the question raised in the State as to whether Willie or Allan was the man, who, as it were, picked up John Paul and was his closest friend. Beyond all question, _Willie_ was the man, but above Willie in the affection of John Paul was Mrs. Willie Jones. Undoubtedly it was his affection for her that induced him to change his name. She was a Miss Montford, daughter of Colonel Joseph Montford, and had a sister who married Colonel John Baptiste Ashe, a distinguished soldier of this State, during the war of the Revolution. In regard to the retort made by Mrs. Willie Jones to Tarleton, you will find it mentioned in Mrs. Elliot's Women of the Revolution. It is also mentioned by Wheeler in vol. ii, page 186, of his History of North Carolina. It is a little singular that Mrs. Ashe, sister of Mrs. Willie Jones, also retorted upon Tarleton. On one occasion, when he said with a sneer that he would like to meet Colonel Washington, she replied, 'If you had looked behind you at the battle of Cowpens you would have had that pleasure.' These two ladies were both very beautiful women, highly gifted in mind and character, and highly educated." F. On this subject see also Appletons' Cyclopædia of American Biography, vol. iii, under Jones. APPENDIX II. CONCORDAT MADE BETWEEN CAPTAIN JOHN PAUL JONES AND THE OFFICERS OF THE SQUADRON. "_Agreement_ between Messieurs John Paul Jones, captain of the Bon Homme Richard; Pierre Landais, captain of the Alliance; Dennis Nicholas Cottineau, captain of the Pallas; Joseph Varage, captain of the Stag; and Philip Nicholas Ricot, captain of the Vengeance; composing a squadron that shall be commanded by the oldest officer of the highest grade, and so in succession in case of death or retreat. None of the said commanders, while they are not separated from the said squadron, by order of the minister shall act but by virtue of the brevet, which they shall have obtained from the United States of America, and it is agreed that the flag of the United States shall be displayed. "The division of the prizes to the superior officers and crews of said squadron, shall be made agreeable to the American laws; but it is agreed that the proportion of the whole coming to each vessel in the squadron shall be regulated by the Minister of the Marine Department of France, and the Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States of America. "A copy of the American laws shall be annexed to the present agreement, after having been certified by the commander of the Bon Homme Richard; but, as the said laws can not foresee or determine as to what may concern the vessels and subjects of other nations, it is expressly agreed that whatever may be contrary to them should be regulated by the Minister of the French Marine, and the Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States of America. "It is likewise agreed that the orders given by the Minister of the French Marine, and the Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States be executed. "Considering the necessity there is of preserving the interests of each individual, the prizes that shall be taken shall be remitted to the orders of Monsieur le Ray de Chaumont, honorary intendant of the Royal Hotel of Invalids, who has furnished the expenses of the armament of the said squadron. "It has been agreed that M. le Ray de Chaumont be requested not to give up the part of the prizes coming to all crews, and to each individual of the said squadron, but to their order, and to be responsible for the same in his own and proper name. "Whereas the said squadron has been formed for the purpose of injuring the common enemies of France and America, it has been agreed that such armed vessels, whether French or American, may be associated therewith by common consent, as shall be found suitable for the purpose, and that they shall have such proportion of the prizes which shall be taken as the laws of their respective countries allow them. "In case of the death of any of the before-mentioned commanders of vessels, he shall be replaced agreeably to the order of the tariff, with liberty, however, for the successor to choose whether he shall remain on board his own vessel, and give up the next in order, the command of the vacant ship. "It has, moreover, been agreed, that the commander of the Stag shall be excepted from the last article of this present agreement, because in case of a disaster to M. de Varage he shall be replaced by his second in command, and so on by the other officers of his cutter, the Stag. "J. Paul Jones. "P. Landais. "De Cottineau. "De Varage. "Le Ray de Chaumont. "P. Ricot." APPENDIX III. ON THE FLAG OF THE BON HOMME RICHARD. The statement is frequently made that the flag under which the Bon Homme Richard fought the Serapis is still in existence, and the following letter from the assistant secretary of the Smithsonian Institution gives a history of the claim: "I am authorized by the secretary to acknowledge the receipt of and reply to your letter of the 27th instant, in which you ask whether the identical flag used by John Paul Jones on the Bon Homme Richard is the one now in the custody of the Smithsonian Institution. "Your letter has been referred to Mr. A. H. Clark, Custodian of the Section of American History in the National Museum, who has submitted the following facts, which I submit to you as the opinion of this institution in the case." "'The evidence appears conclusive that the flag in the National Museum is the identical one used by John Paul Jones on the Bon Homme Richard. This flag was presented to James Bayard Stafford in 1784, by the Marine Committee, with the following letter. The sword and musket are exhibited with the flag together with the original letter: "'"Philadelphia, _Monday, December_ 13, 1784. "'"_James Bayard Stafford_. "'"Sir: I am directed by the Marine Committee to inform you that on last Thursday, the 9th, they decided to bestow upon you, for your meritorious service thro' the late war, Paul Jones' Starry Flag of the Bon Homme Richard--which was transferred to the Alliance--a boarding sword of said ship, and a musquet captured from the Serapis. "'"If you write to Captain John Brown, at the Yard, what ship you wish them sent by to New York, they will be forwarded to you. "'"Your humble servant, "'"James Meyler, "'"_Secretary, pro tem_." "'In the United States Senate, May 1, 1872, the Committee on Revolutionary Claims favorably reported a bill (S. 1060) for payment to Sarah S. Stafford, for the services of her father, James Bayard Stafford, an officer of the Revolution. In the committee's report, Commodore Barry, of the Alliance, certified to the service of Lieutenant Stafford, and the report further states that "it fully appears from the testimony before the committee that James Bayard Stafford entered the navy at the beginning of the War of Independence, and was in constant and active service, and in frequent battles, and remained in the service until the close of the war; that his ship was captured by a British cruiser, and subsequently recaptured by John Paul Jones, when he volunteered on the Bon Homme Richard, where he received wounds, which, owing to unskillful treatment, broke out after a time, disabling both his arms." (Signed.) "'A. H. Clark, "'Custodian, Section of American History, United States National Museum.' "Yours very respectfully, (Signed.) "Richard Rathbun, "_Assistant Secretary_." This is an opinion with which I must disagree. Stafford, it is claimed, had been a sailor in the American armed ship Kitty, which had been captured by a British cruiser, said cruiser and her prize being subsequently taken by the Richard, whereupon Stafford volunteered for service on the Richard, was warranted a midshipman, and is alleged to have performed several heroic deeds in connection with the flag during the action.[71] There is no authority whatever for any of these statements in any existing contemporary account of the battle, yet the occurrence was sufficiently important to be mentioned somewhere, surely, if it had occurred. Stafford's name does not appear in any of the lists of the officers and crew, and the Richard certainly did not capture any British cruiser and her prize. But we have evidence which is more than negative, for Jones explicitly states that when the Richard went down, a flag--presumably that which had been shot from the staff, or had fallen with it, during the action, and had been recovered the next day--was left flying at the peak. In subsequent letters, though, he takes occasion to refer specifically to the fact that he sailed under American colors in the Alliance--he calls them "my very best American colors," a phrase certainly inappropriate for the battle-torn ensign of the Richard--he never makes the slightest reference to their having been used in the famous battle. Again, the Alliance sailed finally under the command of Landais, and no mention of any particular flag appears thereafter. It may be possible, however, though doubtful, that the flag which was given to Stafford was the "best American colors" under which Jones sailed from the Texel, and, if so, it is an interesting relic. The last circumstance that militates against the claim is the size of the flag in question. It is so small that it is highly improbable it was ever used for a battle flag! APPENDIX IV. SONG AND MUSIC. "Here comes brave Paul Jones, Oho! He's a jolly good fellow. His ship has sunk 'neath the sea, On a bold English cape, O. "Here comes brave Paul Jones, Oho! He's a jolly good fellow. Born an American true, And English not a bit, O. "Here comes brave Paul Jones, Oho! He's a jolly good fellow. He does so many brave deeds For the good of his friends, O." Chorus. "Oh, had we him here, Or had they him there, He'd well know what to try for And luck he'd let go by, sir!" [Illustration: HIER KOMT PAL JONES AAN.] APPENDIX V. "_Testament of Paul Jones, July 18, 1792_. "Before the undersigned notaries, at Paris, appeared Mr. John Paul Jones, citizen of the United States of America, resident at present in Paris, lodged in the street of Tournon, No. 42, at the house of Mr. Dorberque, _huissier audiancier_ of the tribunal of the third _arrondissement_, found in a parlour in the first story above the door, lighted by two windows opening on the said street of Tournon, sitting in an armchair, sick of body, but sound of mind, memory, and understanding, as it appeared to the undersigned notaries, by his discourse and conversation,-- "Who, in view of death, has made, dictated, and worded, to the undersigned notaries, his testament as follows: "I give and bequeath all the goods, as well movable as heritable, and all, generally, whatever may appertain to me at my decease, in whatever country they may be situated, to my two sisters, Janette, spouse to William Taylor, and Mary, wife to Mr. Loudon, and to the children of my said sisters, to divide them into as many portions as my said sisters and their children shall make up individuals, and to be enjoyed by them in the following manner: "My sisters, and those of their children who on the day of my death shall have reached the age of twenty-one, will enjoy their share in full property from the date of my decease. As for those of my nephews and nieces who at that period of time may not reach the age of twenty-one years, their mothers will enjoy their shares till such time as they attain that said age, with charge to them to provide for their food, maintenance, and education; and as soon as any of my nephews or nieces will have reached the age of twenty-one years, the same will enjoy his share in full property. "If one or more of my nephews and nieces should happen to die without children before having reached the age of twenty-one, the share of those of them who may have deceased shall be divided betwixt my said sisters and my other nephews and nieces by equal portions. "I name the Honourable Robert Morris, Esq., of Philadelphia, my only testamentary executor. "I revoke all other testaments or codicils which I may have made before the present, which alone I stand by as containing my last will. "So made, dictated, and worded, by said testator, to the said notaries undersigned, and afterward read, and read over again to him by one of them, the others being present, which he well understood, and persevered in, at Paris, the year 1792, the 18th July, about five o'clock, afternoon, in the room heretofore described, and the said testator signed the original of the present, unregistrated, at Paris, the 25th of September, 1792, by Defrance, who received one livre, provisionally, save to determine definitively the right after the declaration of the revenue of the testator. The original remained with Mr. Pettier, one of the notaries at Paris, undersigned, who delivered these presents this day, 26th September, 1792, first of the French Republic. (Signed.) "Pottier. "L'Avernier." (COPY.) "_Schedule of the Property of Admiral John Paul Jones, as stated by him to me, this 18th of July, 1792_. "1. Bank stock in the Bank of North America, at Philadelphia, six thousand dollars, with sundry dividends. "2. Loan-Office certificate left with my friend Mr. Ross, of Philadelphia, for two thousand dollars, at par, with great arrearages of interest, being for ten or twelve years. "3. Such balance as may be in the hands of my said friend John Ross, belonging to me, and sundry effects left in his care. "4. My lands in the State of Vermont. "5. Shares in the Ohio Company. "6. Shares in the Indiana Company. "7. About eighteen thousand pounds sterling due to me from Edward Bancroft, unless paid by him to Sir Robert Herries, and is then in his hands. "8. Upward of four years of my pension due from Denmark, to be asked from the Count de Bernstorf. "9. Arrearages of my pay from the Empress of Russia, and all my prize money. "10. The balance due to me by the United States of America, of sundry claims in Europe, which will appear from my papers. "This is taken from his mouth. "GOUVERNEUR MORRIS." This property was estimated as being worth about thirty thousand dollars at the date of Jones' death. APPENDIX VI. Ranger, Nantes 11_th Dec_. 1777. "Honored Sir:--I think it my duty to give you some account of my Passage from Portsmouth to this place, as this may perhaps find you at home in the Bosom of domestic happiness. I had passed the Western Islands before a Sail appeared within our Horizon from the Mast head; but this Halcyon Season was then interrupted, and changed into continued alarms Night and day till the Ranger cast Anchor here the 2d Current, this afforded me excellent opportunities of exercising the Officers and Men especially in the Night, and it is with much Pleasure that I assure you their behaviour was to my entire Satisfaction. I fell in with an Enemies Fleet of Ten Sail off Ushant, bound up Channel, but notwithstanding my best endeavours, I was unable to detach any of them from the strong Convoy under which they sailed. I fell in with and brought too a number of other Ships and Vessels none whereof proved to be British Property except two Brigantines with fruit from Malaga for London which became Prizes, the one is arrived here, the other I am told in Quiberon Bay. The Rangers sailing does not answer the general expectation, oweing in a great measure to her being too deep, very foul and over Masted, her Ballast laid too high, on account of its improper quality, for a Ship of this construction, this with the extraordinary weight of her lower Masts; occasioned her being very Crank, I am paying my whole Attention to remedy these inconveniences as much as Possible, I am shortening the lower Masts, shifting the Main Mast further aft, and mean to ballast with Lead; as that Article will store under the lower tier of Water the less quantity will be sufficient, of course the Ship will be so much the lighter, and Sail so much the faster, and we shall then, I hope, be able to store the Cables under the Platform. Tho' I have yet received no Letter from the Commissioners, I understand that they had some time ago provided for me one of the Finest Frigates that can be imagined, calculated for Thirty two, Twenty four Pounders, on One deck, and longer than any Ship in the Enemies Fleet, but it seems they were unfortunately under the necessity of giving her up on Account of some difficulties which they met with at Court, however I esteem the intention as much as tho' it had succeeded, as I shall always cherish the grateful remembrance of the Honor which Congress hath conferred on me by this and every other instance of their generous Approbation, I shall be the happiest of Men if a Life of services devoted to the Intrests of America can be rendered instrumental in securing its Independance. "My particular thanks are due to you Sir, as one of the four Members of that Honorable Committee to whose generous intention, and Approbation I more immediately owe this great and unsolicited Obligation, but I hope for Opportunities of proving by my Conduct the deep sense I entertain of that favor. "The inclosed letter, and its consequences hath given me real concern. Malice is a stranger to my Nature. I hate domestic broils, or misunderstandings, and would do, or suffer much, as a private Person to prevent them. But as an Officer, honored with the Approbation of Congress, and conscious of having at no time exceeded even in Thought the delicate lines of my duty, or express letter of my Orders; I am in the highest degree tenacious of the respect due to my Signature; and I bid the most contemptuous defiance to the insinuation of any Man out of Congress. "I have been informed in Portsmouth that the four Oared Boat which attended the Ranger was built for the Portsmouth Privateer, and after being rejected as misconstructed and unuseful for that Ship, was assigned over to the Ranger, be this as it may, I will boldly affirm that she was the worst constructed and most unservicable Boat that I ever saw, belonging to a Ship of War, for tho' a Man stepping on her Gunnel, would bring it down to the Waters edge, yet was her Weight equal, or nearly so to that of the Cutter, which I planned, and had built, capable of carrying 40 Armed Men, had I been able, which I was not, to stow the two Boats, which I found provided for the Ranger, I must have been reduced to the Alternatives of throwing them overboard, or strikeing the Top Masts several times, on the Passage to prevent oversetting the Ship. I mention this matter to you _in confidence_ as a Friend, declaring on the Honor of a Gentleman that I wish on my part to give it to Oblivion. I have the Pleasure to hear that Captains Thompson and Hinman are well at Lorient of which please to inform Mrs. Thompson. I shall endeavour to procure the Articles mentioned in Mrs. Whipple's Memorandum, I hope to live in the remembrance of the few acquaintances I have in Portsmouth, and I have the honor to be with due Respect. "Sir "Your very Obliged "very Obedient "most humble Servant, "Jno P Jones"[72] The Hon'ble Gen'l Whipple FOOTNOTES [Footnote 1: Among the gross slanders by which envy strove to blacken the fame of the great commodore in after years--the foulest, because it attempted to rob a virtuous woman of her crown of honest motherhood and question the legitimacy of Jones' birth--was one which ascribed his paternity to the Earl of Selkirk. To the English snob of that day it may probably have seemed impossible that so much greatness could spring from so plain a stock, and in a left-handed descent from Lord Selkirk was sought an explanation of Jones' fame. The calumny was refuted not only by its antecedent incredibility, but by the testimony of persons in position to affirm as to the high personal character of Jean MacDuff Paul and by the loving and tender family relationship she ever sustained to her husband and children. The family was well known and highly respected. It may be noted, by the way, that the Earl of Selkirk was not conspicuous for ability or anything else, and if it had not been for a subsequent exploit of Jones' he would have been forgotten long since.] [Footnote 2: See Appendix I.] [Footnote 3: The Marine Corps was established by the Congress November 10, 1775.] [Footnote 4: A fictitious house, under the name of which the commissioners sent out military stores.] [Footnote 5: A coarse thin stuff, a very poor substitute for the ordinary canvas.] [Footnote 6: English accounts state their casualties at twenty-five.] [Footnote 7: Italics mine.] [Footnote 8: The ship of the line Thesée (74), commanded by the celebrated de Kersaint, was lost in the night battle between Hawke and Conflans at Quiberon Bay, because in the midst of a terrific gale, with a very heavy sea on, the Frenchman unfortunately opened his lower deck ports to make use of his heavy battery in the action.] [Footnote 9: There is a discrepancy in the various accounts of the armament of the Richard, some authorities asserting that all the guns on the main deck were 12-pounders and that the small guns on the poop and forecastle were 6-pounders. The probabilities are as I have stated.] [Footnote 10: See Appendix No. II.] [Footnote 11: In case of disaster, that is.] [Footnote 12: The English learned this in 1812, when with the long eighteens of the Guerrière and the Java they tackled the long twenty-fours of the Constitution's broadside.] [Footnote 13: From the author's novel, The Grip of Honor.] [Footnote 14: See remarks on page 226.] [Footnote 15: Doubtful.] [Footnote 16: Possibly he might be an ensign.] [Footnote 17: Some authorities imply that the flag had been nailed to the masthead, and that it was necessary for Pearson to go aloft in default of any one else in order to strike his colors. Nailing a flag to the masthead is a figure of speech, and I doubt the actuality of the performance. On the other hand, it would be easy and natural for Pearson to have nailed the ensign to a staff, which contemporary prints show that ships sometimes carried for the purpose of flying the colors. In the latter case it would be easy for Pearson to tear it down; in that hypothesis his whole action then and subsequently is understandable. If the flag had been nailed to the masthead it is extremely unlikely that he would have taken the time, trouble, and risk of going aloft to tear it down when by a simple word or two he could have surrendered his ship.] [Footnote 18: It has been incorrectly stated that many wounded and prisoners were carried down with the ship. Jones, who was in a position to know, asserts the contrary.] [Footnote 19: See Appendix No. III.] [Footnote 20: Thackeray told an American friend that the account of the amazing capture of the Serapis by Paul Jones was one of the most extraordinary stories in naval annals, and Mrs. Ritchie, writing of her father's last days, says: "Sometimes we found him in great spirits, as when he had been reading about the famous fight of the Serapis, a stirring thing indeed."--Editor.] [Footnote 21: Captain A. T. Mahan, U. S. N. (retired). The greatest authority, living or dead, on warfare on the sea, especially from the philosophical standpoint.] [Footnote 22: She could only have engaged to starboard by crossing the path of the Richard, in which event she would have raked her, of course, with her port battery, and then have brought her starboard battery in play when she got alongside again.] [Footnote 23: Italics mine.] [Footnote 24: By resolution of the Marine Committee, dated September 5, 1776, this was, for captains: "A coat of blue cloth with red lapels, slashed cuffs, a stand-up collar, flat yellow buttons, blue breeches, and a red waistcoat with yellow lace." In Jones' case the "flat yellow buttons" were made of gold and the lace was woven of the same precious tissue. Nothing was too good for him, for the rank he supported, and the cause he upheld.] [Footnote 25: See Appendix No. IV.] [Footnote 26: Italics mine.] [Footnote 27: Italics mine.] [Footnote 28: Italics mine.] [Footnote 29: As this is the last appearance of Pearson in our pages, it may be interesting to note that when he returned to England he was knighted for "his gallant defense of the Serapis against a greatly superior force"; in addition to which the merchants of London presented him, and Captain Piercy as well, with very valuable services of plate for their efficient protection of their convoy. Pearson afterward rose to high rank in the British service. He certainly had protected his convoy, for all of them escaped, and the gratitude of the merchants was natural. On the other hand, he had been beaten by an inferior force, and merited no honors on that score. As a matter of fact, the Serapis alone, to say nothing of the Countess of Scarborough, was nearly a match for Jones' whole squadron. Suppose, for instance, that Jones had been in command of the Serapis and Pearson of the Richard. Does anybody doubt that Jones could have beaten the Richard, the Alliance, and the Pallas with the Serapis alone? But it is unprofitable to discuss this question further. When Jones heard of these honors, he is reported to have made the following remark: "He has done well, and if he get another ship and I fall in with him again, I will make a duke of him." There is a grim humor about his comment which is highly pleasing, in spite of Jones' subsequent repudiation of it.] [Footnote 30: Italics mine.] [Footnote 31: Italics mine.] [Footnote 32: Italics mine.] [Footnote 33: For another specimen of Jones' verse-writing, see page 277.] [Footnote 34: "Louis XVI, the rewarder, to the mighty deliverer, for the freedom of the sea."] [Footnote 35: Italics mine.] [Footnote 36: Evidently Truxtun learned the lesson well, for in the war with France he became one of the sternest and most severe disciplinarians in the naval service, in spite of which his crews adored him. See my books, Reuben James, A Hero of the Forecastle; and American Fights and Fighters.] [Footnote 37: That was beyond his power. They never did and to this day do not "esteem" him other than a pirate. His courage and ability are, however, alike unquestioned by friends and foes.] [Footnote 38: The remarks of John Adams as to the need of a great navy are even more apposite now than they were then.] [Footnote 39: Nearly $40,000, equivalent in that day to much more than at present.] [Footnote 40: Quite what might have been expected from a "canny Scot." But it must not be forgotten that the chevalier had been a trader before he became a fighter.] [Footnote 41: Very unlike a "canny Scot" in this instance.] [Footnote 42: After his dismissal Landais resided in Brooklyn, where he lived in very straitened circumstances on a small annuity, the income upon an advance of four thousand dollars from Congress on account of arrears of prize money due him, which amount was to be deducted from his share of whatever was recovered from Denmark. His income was about two hundred dollars a year, but by strict economy it sufficed him. He is reputed to have cherished a high feeling of independence, and would never consent to receive a gift he was unable to return. Toward the close of his life he was a constant petitioner for five thousand dollars with interest, which he conceived to be still due him on account of the Danish claim. Every other year he contrived to visit the seat of government to plead his cause in person. On one occasion, having heard that a member of Congress had spoken slightingly of him, he put on his faded Continental uniform, buckled on his small sword, repaired to the gallery of the House of Representatives, and expressed his readiness to meet any gentleman who wished for an honorable satisfaction. His quaint figure, so attired, was often seen on the streets of New York. He used to carry his hat in his hand for hours in the street, out of respect to his lawful monarch, executed by the rebels of France! He never ceased to affirm that he, and not Paul Jones, had captured the Serapis. He died in 1818 at the age of eighty-seven years, and was buried in St. Patrick's Cathedral churchyard. He had probably returned to the Roman Catholic Church, which he is said to have abjured on his entry into the American service. One of his biographers tells us that he was a cadet of the family of a younger son of the youngest branch of one of the oldest, proudest, and poorest families in Normandy; that, owing to his lack of court interest, which was due to his poverty, he was kept for thirty years a midshipman in the French navy. The same ingenious apologist makes the following quaint comment on the respective actions and qualities of Landais and Jones: "Paul Jones, by his impetuous and undisciplined gallantry, earned the reputation of a hero, and poor Landais, by a too scrupulous attention to the theory of naval science, incurred that of a coward. I believe that naval authority is against me, but I venture to assert _meo periculo_ and on the authority of one of my uncles, who was in that action as a lieutenant to Paul Jones, that Landais erred not through any defect of bravery, but merely from his desire to approach his enemy scientifically, by bearing down upon the hypothenuse of the precise right-angled triangle prescribed in the thirty-seventh 'man[oe]uvre' of his old text-book." Surely the author of this extraordinary paragraph must have been more than an unconscious humorist! A stone erected over his remains, which has long since disappeared, bore the following inscription: A la Mémoire de Pierre De Landais Ancien Contre-Amiral au service Des États Unis Qui Disparut Juin 1818 Agé 87 ans. There is something pathetic in the picture of the "Ancien Contre-Amiral," in his faded Continental uniform and the proud independence of his old age; and perhaps after all we may charitably attribute his colossal blunders to insanity and incompetency rather than to malice or treachery.] [Footnote 43: Negotiations on this claim were protracted for over sixty years. In June, 1847, the Danish Government formally and finally denied the validity of the claim, and it has not been paid. Congress, however, on March 21, 1848, provided for the payment of the prize money involved, to the heirs of Paul Jones and other persons entitled to share in the distribution of the fund.] [Footnote 44: The rouble was then worth about one dollar, and, as has been mentioned, a dollar was greater then than now.] [Footnote 45: In after years Jones indorsed upon this letter a grim comment: "Has he kept his word?"] [Footnote 46: Some authorities say fourteen; the difference is immaterial.] [Footnote 47: All dates given, except in letters, are new style, eleven days in advance of Russian dates.] [Footnote 48: This is a mistake, he was never a vice admiral.] [Footnote 49: Old style.] [Footnote 50: Nassau was then in command of the Russian fleet in the Baltic, and an encounter with him--had a Swedish command been tendered Jones, and if he could have accepted it--would have been interesting. There would have been a final demonstration, which probably would have convinced even Nassau, as to the merits of the rival commanders in the Liman. Nassau, by accepting the advice of the English and other foreign officers associated with him, succeeded with a superior force in beating the Swedes, whereupon honors were showered upon him--more land, more peasants, more roubles, more rank. His favor was higher than ever; but he was magnificently beaten a short time after by a very inferior Swedish fleet, and his defeat was as decisive as it was disgraceful. He lost fifty-three vessels, fourteen hundred guns, and six thousand men. He had refused to take anybody's advice on this occasion and had conducted the battle himself. His cowardice and incapacity therefore were entirely apparent. He tried to attribute this defeat, which compelled Catherine to make peace upon terms not advantageous to her, to the cowardice of the Russians whom he commanded. The Russians were not cowards. He fell from favor, left the court, and passed the remainder of his life on his estate in Poland in the society of his homely but devoted wife. It is to be hoped that she made things interesting for him, but it is hardly likely. He died in obscurity and poverty in 1809, unregretted and forgotten.] [Footnote 51: A portion was subsequently paid to his heirs by the French Government.] [Footnote 52: See Appendix No. V.] [Footnote 53: From my book, American Fights and Fighters.] [Footnote 54: This sword was, of course, not that presented to him by the King of France. After Jones' death his heirs gave this famous sword to Robert Morris. Morris, in turn, presented it to Commodore John Barry, at that time senior officer of the United States Navy. By him it was bequeathed to his friend Commodore Richard Dale, once of the Bon Homme Richard, and it now remains in the possession of his great-grandson, Mr. Richard Dale, of Philadelphia.] [Footnote 55: Why a monument has not been erected to Jones I can not understand. It would be a noteworthy object for individual and national effort, and in no better way could we commit ourselves to the fame and achievements of the great captain, and forever stamp with disapproval those calumnies with which envy seeks to sully the name of our first great sailor.] [Footnote 56: The frontispiece of this volume.] [Footnote 57: Some of his phrases in his Russian letters remind me of Shakespeare's Henry V.] [Footnote 58: I have known hundreds of sailors more or less intimately, and I have never met one who might be included in either of those melancholy classes.] [Footnote 59: Studies in Naval History, by John Knox Laughton, M. A., Professor of Modern History at King's College, London, and Lecturer on Naval History at the Royal Naval College, Greenwich, etc., 1887.] [Footnote 60: July 6, 1900.] [Footnote 61: Woolsey, International Law, section 144, page 233.] [Footnote 62: And not a captain of a special ship, as was sometimes the case, but a captain in the service, and therefore eligible to command any ship. See page 75.] [Footnote 63: The following interesting document was found in his papers; it enumerates a few of the things he did: "In 1775, J. Paul Jones armed and embarked in the first American ship of war. In the Revolution he had twenty-three battles and solemn rencontres by sea; made seven descents in Britain and her colonies; took of her navy two ships of equal, and two of superior force, many store ships, and others; constrained her to fortify her ports; suffer the Irish volunteers; desist from her cruel burnings in America, and exchange, as prisoners of war, the American citizens taken on the ocean, and cast into the prisons of England, as 'traitors, pirates, and felons!'"] [Footnote 64: Notwithstanding this, he was as ambitious of glory, honor, and fame to himself in the service of his country as Nelson was. They were both of them "Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth."] [Footnote 65: See my book, American Fights and Fighters.] [Footnote 66: The recent war in South Africa demonstrates the accuracy of Carlyle's perspicuous observation.] [Footnote 67: The United States has shown that it possesses in full measure the sea adaptability and capacity of the Anglo-Saxon, but opportunity for demonstrating that capacity, except upon a small scale, has never been afforded us. The almost unbroken line of victories on the sea, however, which we have won with anything like equality of force from English, French, and Spaniards, enables us to confidently await the issue of any future naval action under conditions of equality; and the names of Jones, Dale, Biddle, Barry, Preble, Hull, Decatur, Bainbridge, Lawrence, Stewart, MacDonough, Perry, Farragut, Dewey, and Sampson will not be outshone by any galaxy.] [Footnote 68: So careful and accurate an historian as John Fiske makes the mistake of saying that Russia bestowed the order of St. Anne on Jones for this action.] [Footnote 69: Paul Jones and his men were the last foreign foemen to land on the shores of England.] [Footnote 70: See Park Benjamin's History of the Naval Academy for similar instances on the part of less famous captains. Personal abuse was a custom of the service, apparently.] [Footnote 71: See Preble's History of the American Flag, where the story of Stafford is given _in extenso_.] [Footnote 72: The above hitherto unpublished letter, with its unusual signature, was addressed to William Whipple, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence from New Hampshire, who in 1777 was a member of the Continental Congress, and one of the four Navy Commissioners. The original of the Commodore's interesting letter is in the collection of Mr. Ferdinand J. Dreer, of Philadelphia.--Editor.]