Part 58

"See here, Captain," said one--a seaman from Portsmouth, New Hampshire--"Me and my pals enlisted at home after readin' a hand-bill which said that we wuz to get $40.00 apiece extra, for this cruise. Now, your young Lieutenant tells us that the reg'lations of Congress say that we are to only get th' reg'lar salary allotted by those old pals, who make our laws. We came with you thinkin' that we wuz ter git this money, and, by gum, we intend to git it!"

"Calm yourself, my good fellow," said Jones soothingly. "If the hand-bill said that you were to receive $40.00 you shall have it. You shall get this sum even if I have to pay it myself."

And this he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jones was delighted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John Paul smiled.

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

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

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