Part 57

"I have no fortune left but my sword, and no prospect except that of getting alongside of the enemy," wrote the impoverished sea-captain to a Mr. Hewes.

This prospect also was to soon have ample fulfilment.

Ordered to take command of the Alfred, Captain Jones made a short cruise eastward, in 1776, accompanied by the staunch little Providence. The journey lasted only thirty-three days, but, during that time, seven ships of the enemy fell into the clutches of the two American vessels.

"Aha!" cried Captain Jones, as he rubbed his hands. "This looks more propitious for our cause. We have taken the Mellish and the Biddeford. Let us break into them and see how much of the King's treasure has been secured."

And it was indeed good treasure!

The Mellish was found to contain ten thousand complete uniforms, including cloaks, boots, socks and woollen shirts, for the winter supply of General Howe's army; seven thousand pairs of blankets; one thousand four hundred tents; six hundred saddles and complete cavalry equipments; one million seven hundred thousand rounds of fixed ammunition (musket cartridges); a large quantity of medical stores; forty cases of surgical instruments; and forty-six soldiers who were recruits sent out to join the various British regiments then serving in the Colonies.

The larger prize--the Biddeford--carried one thousand seven hundred fur overcoats for the use of the Canadian troops; eleven thousand pairs of blankets, intended partly for the British troops in Canada, and partly for the Indians then in British pay along the northern frontier; one thousand small-bore guns of the type then known as the "Indian-trade smooth-bore," with hatchets, knives, and boxes of flint in proportion, to arm the redskins. There were eight light six-pounder field guns and complete harness and other equipage for the two four-gun batteries of horse-artillery. Also some wines and table supplies for Sir Guy Carleton and a case of fine Galway duelling pistols for a British officer then serving in Canada.

"These I will appropriate as mine own portion," cried Captain Jones. "And also a share of the wines, for I must have something to drink the health of mine enemy in." And--so saying--he chuckled gleefully. It had been a rich haul.

But the Captain was not happy. His pet project was to cruise in European waters, and he wanted to get near the British coast with a ship--or better--a squadron of some force.

"Cruises along the American coast," said he, "will annoy the enemy and result in capture of small ships and consorts from time to time. But who--forsooth--will hear of this in Europe? We will add nothing to our prestige as a new nation if we win victories upon this side of the ocean."

All who heard him were much impressed by the vehement earnestness of his arguments.

"You have had so much success, Mr. Jones," said they, "that we feel you will have still greater good fortune in future years."

And Jones said to himself: "Oh, if I only could get the chance!"

It soon came, for on June the 14th, 1777, the Continental Congress passed the following resolution:

"Resolved: That Captain John Paul Jones be appointed to command the ship Ranger" (a brand-new sloop-of-war which had just been launched at Portsmouth, N. H.).

This boat was designed to carry a battery of twenty long six-pounders and was planned expressly for speed. She was one hundred and sixteen feet long, twenty-eight feet in breadth, and her bottom was covered with copper: the first American ship to be thus protected. Captain Jones put fourteen long nine-pounders in her and only four six-pounders, but even then she was top-heavy.

In spite of the fact that it was not quite safe to carry full sail, if clearing to windward, close-hauled in squally weather; when running free--before the wind--she could course through the water like a jack-rabbit. In outward appearance she was a perfect beauty, and, as she was rather low in the water for her length, and her masts raked two or three degrees more than any other ship of the day, she was--on the whole--the sauciest craft afloat. Jones was delighted.

"I have the best crew I have ever seen," said he. "I believe it is the best in the world. They are nearly all native Americans, and the proportion of able seamen to the total is much beyond the average. I'm going to make one or two short runs off the coast--a day or two at a time--to shake down the sails and find the best trim of the ship. Then away to the shores of England and France!"

He waited impatiently for orders to proceed across the blue Atlantic. On October the 18th, 1777, a courier raced frantically into Portsmouth, crying,

"Burgoyne has surrendered! Burgoyne has surrendered!" And Jones' impatience to be off increased ten-fold.

There were no details of the American victory, for the courier had reached the sleepy New England town from the field of Stillwater, in about thirty hours, and it was one hundred and forty-seven miles--as the crow flies--or, about one hundred and seventy-five by the shortest road. He had stopped only long enough to saddle a fresh horse and shift his saddle, eating his meals in the stirrups, and never thinking of rest until he had shouted his tidings for three full days. The patriot country was wild with enthusiasm.

"I will spread the news in France in thirty days," said Jones, when his dispatches were placed in his hands, about midnight of October the thirty-first. And, running by the whirling eddies of "Pull-and-be-damned" Point, he soon had the Ranger clear of the low-lying Isle of Shoals: the sea cross and choppy, but the good ship bowling along before a fresh gale of wind.

"I had sailed with many Captains," writes Elijah Hall, second Lieutenant of the staunch, little vessel, "but I never had seen a ship crowded as Captain Jones drove the Ranger. The wind held northeasterly and fresh 'til we cleared Sable Island and began to draw on to the Banks. Then it came northeast and east-northeast with many snow squalls, and thick of nights."

Imagine the situation of the Ranger's crew, with a top-heavy, cranky ship 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 righted only by letting-fly her sheets cut with hatchets. During all this trying work Captain Jones was his own navigating officer, keeping the deck eighteen or twenty hours out of the twenty-four; often serving extra grog to the men with his own hands; and, by his example, silencing all disposition to grumble. In the worst of it, the watch and watch was lap-watched, so that the men would be eight hours on to four off; but no one complained. It speaks well alike for commander and crew that not a man was punished or even severely reprimanded during the terrific voyage.

But Captain Jones made good his boast. He actually did land at Nantes--upon the coast of France--early in the morning of December second, 1777, thirty-two days out from Portsmouth. His crew were jubilant, and sang a song which ran:

"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! Carry the News! Go! Go! Carry the News! Tell old King George that he's undone! He's licked by the Yankee squirrel gun. Go! Go! Carry the news to London!"

And Captain John made haste to proceed to Paris, placing the dispatches in the hands of Dr. Franklin early upon the fifth day of December,--travelling two hundred and twenty miles in sixty hours. He returned to his ship about the middle of the month, to find that several of the crew were mutinous.