Part 60

On the second day out the Alliance fouled the Richard, causing so much damage to both, that the squadron was compelled to return to port for repairs, which--with other transactions--consumed six weeks. But the accident was a lucky one, for numerous American sailors, who were in English prisons, were shortly exchanged with English seamen in French dungeons; and thus Paul Jones was able to man the Good Richard with one hundred and fourteen native Americans, who were anxious to have a crack at those who had captured them but a short time before.

Finally, with refitted ships and reorganized crews, Paul Jones was ready to sail from the roadstead of Isle de Groaix, in the early part of August, 1779, bound upon his cruise around the British Islands. There were four ships in this squadron: the Good Richard; the Alliance, under Pierre Landais (a depraved and dishonest Frenchman); the Pallas, under Cottineau (an honest Frenchman); and the Vengeance, a sloop-of-war. The prevailing winds were light and baffling, so the squadron moved slowly.

War had been declared between France and England, and thus the English Channel was thronged with privateers from both countries. The Richard and a French privateer, in company, re-captured a large ship belonging to Holland, but bound from Barcelona to Dunkirk, France, which had been taken some days before by an English vessel off Cape Ortegal and ordered into Falmouth, England. England and Holland were still at peace, at this time, but the English claimed the right to intercept and send into their own port for examination, all neutral vessels bound to French ports, as England and France were then at war. Commodore Jones took the English prize-crew out of the Dutch ship, as prisoners of war, and then ordered the ship into l'Orient in charge of her own crew, but under the command of one of his midshipmen, until she could come under the protection of a French port.

"Things are going well with us!" cried Captain Jones, rubbing his hands gleefully.

He soon felt much happier. For, on the morning of August 23rd, when in the vicinity of Cape Clear, the Richard sent three boats, and afterwards a fourth, to take a brig that was becalmed in the northwest quarter--just out of gun-shot. It proved to be the Fortune, of Bristol, bound from Newfoundland for her home-port with whale-oil, salt fish, and barrel staves. Manned by a prize-crew of two warrant officers and six men, she was sent to Nantes.

All were happy. All were looking forward to a good fight. It was to come to them.

The little fleet of war-dogs sailed northward, and, on September 1st, about ten o'clock in the morning, the northwest promontory of Scotland was sighted. At the same instant, two large ships bore in sight on the same quarter, and another vessel appeared to windward.

"Bear up! Bear up!" cried Jones.

The Richard held over toward the first two ships until he saw that it was the Alliance and a prize she had taken about daylight,--a vessel bound for Jamaica, from London.

"Now chase the other fellow!" he cried, turning the wheel with his own hands, and soon the Good Richard was bounding over the waves in hard pursuit of the second sail. Slowly but surely she was overhauled. Heavily armed, she did not surrender until after the exchange of several shots, which the Richard pumped into her, after running up close enough to show her broadside.

A boat soon carried a number of seamen to take possession of her, and she proved to be the British privateer, the Union, mounting twenty-two six-pounders, and bound northward from London to Quebec, in Canada, laden with a cargo of naval and military stores for the British troops and flotillas on the Lakes. The Union also carried a valuable mail, including dispatches for Sir William Howe, in New York, and Sir Guy Carleton, in Canada. "These were lost," writes John Paul to good Doctor Franklin, at Paris, for the Alliance imprudently showed American colors, though English colors were still flying on the Bon Homme Richard; "the enemy thereby being induced to throw his papers of importance overboard before we could take possession of him." The prizes were manned from the Alliance and sent (by Landais) into the seaport of Bergen, in Norway.

The squadron now beat down the east coast of Scotland, and, after capturing five or six small prizes, rounded-to off the Firth of Forth.

"I intend to attack the port of Leith!" cried Jones, "as I understand that it is defended only by a small guard-ship of twenty-two guns, and an old fortification (old Leith Fort) garrisoned by a detachment of Militia."

The wind was adverse, blowing off shore, with frequent heavy squalls, but about noon of the 17th of September, the Richard and the Pallas beat up within gun-shot of Leith Fort and were lowering away their tenders in order to land, when a heavy Northwest gale sprang up, compelling them to hoist their boats, and put to sea. The gale lasted about twenty-four hours, but, on the morning of the 19th, the wind took another turn, the sea grew calm, and Jones proposed to renew the attack upon Leith. The Commander of the Pallas made strong objection to this. "I do not believe that we should stay here," cried he. "If we persist in the attempt to remain on this station three days longer, we shall have a squadron of heavy frigates, if not a ship of line, to deal with. Convinced of this, I offer it as my judgment that we had better work along the shore to-day and to-morrow, as far as Spurn Head, and then, if we do not fall in with the Baltic merchant fleet, stand off the coast and make the best of our way to Dunkirk."

Commodore Jones spent a few moments in reflection. "You are probably right, Cottineau," said he. "I only wish that another man like you were in command of the Alliance. However, we cannot help what is and must make the best of it. Go aboard your ship and make sail to the south-southwest. Speak the Vengeance as you run down, and tell Ricot--her commander--to rendezvous off Spurn Head. I will bring up the rear with this ship. We may fall in with the Baltic fleet between here and Scarboro', which is usually their first English port of destination at this time of the year. Should you happen to sight the Alliance, inform Captain Landais of our destination, but do not communicate it to him as an order, because that would be likely to expose you only to insult."

The two ships turned South, and the next three days were without events of importance. At length they neared the harbor of Scarboro', and, as they hovered about twelve miles off the land, they saw some vessels making for the shore, and protecting a fleet of merchantmen.

"They're a heavy man-of-war--either a fifty-gun frigate, or a fifty-four--with a large ship-of-war in company," cried one of his Lieutenants, who had been watching them through a glass. "The Captain of the larger one has cleverly manoeuvered to protect his merchant ship."

Commodore Jones seemed to be much pleased.

"At last we'll have a little fight," cried he. "Bear hard for the land, and get between the larger vessel and the shore!"

Captain Cottineau was signalled to and requested to go after the sloop-of-war. About sundown the Richard succeeded in weathering the large frigate and manoeuvered between her and the land.

The ships neared each other very gradually, for the breeze was slight. They were on opposite tacks and Commodore Jones readily made out the force and rate of his antagonist. By the light of the dying day--for it was about seven P. M.--he saw that she was a new forty-four; a perfect beauty. It was the Serapis--Captain Richard Pearson commanding--but six months off the stocks and on her first cruise as a convoy to the Baltic fleet of merchantmen: consisting of about forty vessels laden with timber and other naval stores for the use of the British dockyards. Jones had hoped to have an opportunity to attack this flotilla, but his plans had been frustrated by the vigilance and skill of the commander of the men-of-war in convoy.

Even now Landais might have got among the merchantmen in the fast-sailing Alliance, while Jones and Cottineau occupied the attention of the two men-of-war; but the French officer did not have sufficient courage to tackle them, and kept well beyond striking distance.

The Captain of the Serapis stood upon the deck, intently gazing at the on-coming vessel.

"Gad Zooks!" he uttered. "From the size of her spars and her height out of water I take her to be a French fifty of the time of the last war. It's too dark for me to see whether she has any lower ports or not." He raised his night glasses to his eyes, and, in the light of the full moon which was now flooding the sea with a silvery haze, saw that his opponent was intent upon a fight.

"It is probably Paul Jones," said he, lowering the glasses. "If so--there's tight work ahead. What ship is that?" he cried out in loud tones.

No answer came from the dark hull of the Good Richard, but, as she swung nearer upon the rolling waves, suddenly a flash, a roar, and a sheet of flame belched from her side. The battle was on!

It was a struggle which has been talked of for years. It was a battle about which the world never seems to tire of reading. It was the battle which has made the name of John Paul Jones nautically immortal.

The two warriors of the deep were on the same tack, headed northwest, driven by a slight wind which veered to the westward. The sea was smooth, the sky was clear, the full moon was rising--the conditions for a night struggle were ideal.