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, theAlfred, 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; toWalrus. 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, theAlfred, 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 theAlfred'sside. 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. TheAlfredbid 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 theAlfred.
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 theAlfred'screw. 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 theAlfred.
"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'dlike 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 theAlfred. 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 theAlfred, 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, theAlfredwas 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 theColumbus, theAndrew Doria, theCabot, and theProvidence, led by theAlfred, were making out toward the open sea under full spread of canvas, ready to meet whatsoever of the mighty foe that might appear.
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 theAlfredwith 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 theAlfred'shull. "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 theAlfred'squarter 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 theCabot.
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 theCabot, as the ship nearest the stranger, to engage the attention of the latter. But before the captain of theCabotcould comply it was seen that the distant ship had come about and was making straight for the two American vessels.
The decks of theAlfredandCabotwere 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?"
TheCabotmade answer: "This is theBetsy, 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 shipGlasgow, of twenty-four guns!"
As theAlfred'sbattery 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 littleCabot, 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 theGlasgowwas 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.
TheCabothad 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. TheAlfredwas 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. TheGlasgowwas hulled a number of times, her mainmast was deeply scarred, her sails and rigging well riddled with shot. But she had disabled the littleCabotat the second broadside from her big guns, and had then concentrated her attention on theAlfredwith 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 theAndrew Doria, who gave futile but heroic chase to theGlasgow—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 theGlasgowaffair. As a result Captain Hazard, of theProvidence, 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.
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 theAlfredplaced 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 theProvidence, 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. ThatAlfredno 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.
TheProvidence, 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 theProvidencewas 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 theProvidencesighted a large ship which she mistook for an Indiaman homeward bound. This stranger proved to be theSolebay, British frigate of twenty guns. Too late theProvidencediscovered her error; there was no chance to withdraw in dignity.
TheSolebayimmediately 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 littleProvidencewas legging it briskly over the wind-tossed waters. But theSolebaygained 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 theProvidencehad been flung to the breeze. Still theSolebaydrew 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 theSolebayacknowledged 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 theSolebayknew 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, theSolebaywas now out of the running, a very crestfallen enemy. Such clever maneuvering her commander had never witnessed before.
Three weeks later theProvidencewas 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, theProvidenceset 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 theSolebay, 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, theMilford.
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 theProvidencecunningly 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 theProvidence, 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 stopfishingand go about our business."
He thereupon ordered more sail spread, and in a short time the astonishedMilford—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 theAlfred, the ship on which he had made his first cruise as a first-lieutenant some nine months earlier. In company with theProvidence, 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, theMellishand theBideford, both of which had been separated from their convoy, theMilford, in a terrific gale. Although larger and heavier ships in every way, the Americans attacked and captured them. Shortly afterward theMilford, 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 theAlfred, 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. TheTrumbull—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 theTrumbullafter 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-warRanger, of eighteen guns.
When Paul Jones was ordered to Portsmouth to command the new sloop-of-warRanger, 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 theAlfredto theProvidence, then back to theAlfredagain. 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 itmyself—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 theRanger, 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 theRangerfor 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 theRangerescorted 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 theRangerand 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. TheRangerwas 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 theRanger'speak. 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 theRangerand 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 theRanger'slog; 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 theRanger. 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: