Inaction weighed upon the mind of Paul Jones more heavily than the hardest of labor10. He had to be up and doing all the time, or trouble was brewing11 for everybody on shipboard.[8] So when he reached Nantes, France, and found that the frigate12 which had been promised him was not forthcoming, he determined13, alone and unaided, to do with the little “Ranger” what he was not yet destined14 to do with a bigger ship. No person but Paul Jones would for a moment have considered such a desperate project as the one he conceived. What the flower of the navy and chivalry15 of France had refused to attempt was little short of suicide for the mad American. But Jones was not cast in an ordinary mould. When he got to Brest, he made up his mind once and for all, by one good fire of British shipping16 to put an end to all the ship and town burnings in America.
There was clanking of bit and chain as the anchor was hove up short on the little craft. The officers and men of the great vessels18 of the French fleet looked over the glistening19 water, warmed by the afternoon sun of spring, and wondered where their impetuous harbor-mate was off to. A week before, they knew Paul Jones had demanded that the French Admiral salute20 the Continental flag which the “Ranger” wore for the first time. And they had given those salutes21 right willingly, acknowledging publicly the nation they had been helping22 in secret. They knew he was a man of determination,[9] and they wondered what the American was going to do. Some of them—the younger ones—wished they too were aboard the dainty little craft, bound out to sea under a man who feared nothing and dared everything. They heard the whistles and hoarse23 calls of the bos’n as the men tumbled down from aloft, the sheets flew home, and yards went up to their blocks with a clatter24 and a rush that showed how willing were the hands at the tackles. The tops’ls caught a fine breeze from the southward and, bracing26 up, the “Ranger” flew down the harbor and around the point of Quiberon just as the sun was setting behind the purple cloud-streaks27 along the line of limitless ocean. Up the coast she moved, her bowsprit pointing fearlessly to the north, where lay the Scilly Isles28. The Frenchmen left behind in the harbor looked enviously30 at the patch of gold, growing every moment more indistinct in the fading light, and said “En voilà un brave!”
The next day Jones left the Scilly Isles on his starboard quarter and steered32 boldly up Saint George’s Channel into the wide Irish Sea. The merchantmen he boarded and captured or scuttled33 did not quite know what to make of a man who feared so little that he looked into the eyes of the lion sternly and[10] even menacingly when one movement might have destroyed him. These channel-men thought themselves secure, for such a venturesome procedure as that of Paul Jones was contrary to all precedent. They couldn’t understand it at all until their vessels were burned and they themselves were prisoners. Then they knew that they had been taken by a man whose daring far surpassed that of the naval34 captains of England and France. In plain sight of land he took a brig bound from Ireland to Ostend. He didn’t want to be bothered with prisoners, so he sent her crew ashore35 in their own boat to tell the story of their escape. Then off Dublin he took another ship, the “Lord Chatham,” and sent her in charge of a prize-crew down to Brest.
Paul Jones had one great advantage. Nowadays, when the railway and telegraph have brought all the people of the world closer together, such a cruise would be impossible. The report would be sent at once to the Admiralty, and two fleets, if necessary, would be despatched post-haste to intercept36 him. But Paul Jones knew the value of the unexpected. And although fortune favors the brave and the winds and waves seem always on the side of the ablest navigators, he had made his calculations carefully. He knew that unless[11] an English fleet was at some point nearer than Portsmouth he would have ample time to carry out his plans.
He made up his mind before burning any shipping to capture, if possible, the Earl of Selkirk, who lived on St. Mary’s Isle29, and to hold him as a hostage. By this means he hoped to compel England to treat American prisoners with humanity, according to the laws of war. But on the twenty-first of April he picked up a fisherman who gave him information which for the moment drove all thought of the Earl of Selkirk and the shipping from his mind. Inside the harbor of Carrickfergus, where Belfast is, lay a man-of-war of twenty guns, the “Drake,” a large ship, with more men than the “Ranger” carried. He would drop down alongside of her under cover of the night and board her before her crew could tumble out of their hammocks. Such an attempt in a fortified37 harbor of the enemy would not have occurred to most men, but Paul Jones believed in achieving the impossible. He waited until nightfall, and then, with a wind freshening almost to a gale38, sped up the harbor. The “Drake” lay well out in the roadstead, her anchor lights only marking her position in the blackness of the night. Carefully watching his time, Captain Jones stood forward[12] looking at the lights that showed how she swung to the tide. He kept full headway on the “Ranger,” until she could swing up into the wind almost under the jib-boom of the Englishman. By dropping his anchor across the chain of the “Drake” he hoped to swing down alongside, grapple, and board before the crew were fairly awake.
But this time he was destined to fail. Everything depended on the dropping of the anchor at the proper time. His orders were not obeyed, for not until the “Ranger” had drifted clear of the Englishman’s chain did the splash come. Then it was too late. Fortunately the watch on the “Drake” were not suspicious. Had they been wider awake they would have had the “Ranger” at their mercy, and Paul Jones might not have survived to fight them a few days later. As it was, they only swore at the stupidity of the Irish lubber they thought he was. Jones knew that his chance was gone, and as soon as a strain came on the cable it was cut, and he filled away to sea again.
He now returned to his original plan of burning the shipping of some important town. He decided39 on Whitehaven as his first objective point, and the “Ranger,” sailing leisurely40 over, dropped anchor in the outer harbor during the following night.
[13]
Whitehaven was a town of considerable importance in the Scottish and North of England shipping trade. The inhabitants were for the greater part sailors and others who made their living by the sea, and there was never a time when the docks were not crowded with vessels, of all countries, from the sloop to the full-rigged ship, discharging or taking on cargoes41 which figured largely in England’s commerce. At one side of the harbor lay the town, and farther around to the left lay the docks where the shipping was. Over two hundred vessels, large and small, lay there or out in the roadstead. Two forts, mounting fifteen guns each, guarded the town. They were adequately garrisoned42, and it looked like a piece of desperate folly44 to make the attempt upon a town directly under their guns.
Paul Jones knew Whitehaven from his childhood. He remembered just where the guard-houses were to be found, and knew how to force the entrance to the barracks. By three o’clock in the morning he was ready to make the assault. Two cutters with fifteen men in each, armed with cutlasses and pistols, were all he took to do the work. With thirty men he went fearlessly and confidently to intimidate45 the soldiers, spike46 the guns in the forts, overawe the town, and burn the shipping! Lieutenant47[14] Wallingford was given command of one of the cutters. His mission was to burn the shipping to the left. The other cutter Paul Jones commanded himself, and assumed the more hazardous48 duty of holding with his fifteen men the forts and the town, until such a blaze should illumine the morning sky that all England would know that the burning of Portland, Maine, was avenged49.
Quietly they pulled up towards the great stone dock, where the shipping-houses were. The tide was very low as they moved past the schooners50 and brigs in the harbor, many of them careened far over on their sides, waiting for a rise in the tide to pull down to more comfortable moorings. But the boats went by without challenge or notice, and Wallingford’s cutter had slipped away like a gray shadow in the darkness. The first violet streaks of dawn were just beginning to throw the shore-line to the east in hazy51 silhouette52 when they reached the landing-place.
The dawn was coming up quickly now, and Paul Jones led his fifteen men at a run to the nearest fort. With cutlass in one hand and pistol in the other, they dashed upon the first sentry53. There was no time for stealth, so they bore him down by sheer weight. The next one saw them coming, but Jones locked[15] him and the rest of them in the guard-house. Then he proceeded to spike the guns. So quick was the work that not a shot was fired. They were running towards the second fort before the soldiers were quite sure what had happened. Even then they were too terrified to follow in pursuit. As the gallant54 band ran towards the other fort they got a clear view of the harbor, a glimmering55 sheet of orange and violet, under the morning glow. But strain his eyes as he might, their captain could get no sign of Wallingford or his work. They dashed as desperately56 at this fort as at the other and were equally successful, intimidating57 the garrison43 and spiking58 every gun they could find.
But what could be the trouble with Wallingford? Still seeing no blaze or even spark among the shipping to the eastward59, Paul Jones felt that the main object of his descent upon the town was to prove a failure. So he dashed down the street from the fort towards the dock, pistol in hand, followed by his crew, who rolled along grinning at the ease with which they had accomplished their work. One of them had a bad cut over the head and the blood was staining his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind it in the least. To their surprise as they passed the houses the people began coming out of their[16] doors shaking their fists at and cursing them. They grinned no longer, for they knew that some one had betrayed them. Jones looked around for the fifteenth man. The fellow with the cut wiped some blood from his cheek and said,—
“Dave Freeman, sir, he’s gone!”
Freeman was the traitor61, then.
But there was no time for parley62 or revenge. The mob was collecting in the street they had left and soon would be down on the dock. Though Wallingford failed, Paul Jones would not. He dashed into a house on the dock, and seizing a burning brand went aboard one of the largest vessels of the fleet. He hastily pulled together some straw and hatchway gratings and soon had a roaring blaze. Then one of his men spilled a barrel of tar31 in the midst of it to make the destruction more sure.
THE DESCENT ON WHITEHAVEN
He had been so intent upon his work that he had not noticed the mob that had gathered on the dock. The place seemed black with people, and their number was increasing every minute. Then, leaving the work of destruction to the others, he went down alone to face fifteen hundred infuriated people with a single flint-lock pistol! Dave Freeman had done his work well, for they seemed to pour from every street and doorway63. But Paul Jones was determined[17] that the work should be finished, and took a position where he could command the boat-landing and retreat of his men. The people came down in a body to within twenty paces of Paul Jones and then—stopped. There was something in the look of the man and the menacing black barrel that moved from one to the other that made them quail64 and fall over each other to get out of range. Those in the background swore and pushed gallantly65, but the front rank was a line of straw, and Paul Jones moved it with his old flint-lock as though a Biscay wind-squall was striking it. For fifteen minutes and longer he stood there, immovable, the master of the situation, the picture of the intimidating power of one resolute66 man over a mob. Such another instance is hardly to be found in history.
When the black smoke rolled up from half a dozen vessels of the fleet, Paul Jones’s crew retreated in an orderly manner to the cutter. Jones walked down the steps into the boat, covering the crowd the while. Then his men leisurely rowed away, not a shot having been fired. It was not until the cutter was well out into the bay that some of the bewildered soldiers recovered sufficiently67 to load two cannon that Paul Jones had overlooked.[18] These they brought to bear upon the cutter dancing down in the sunrise towards the “Ranger” and fired. The shot whistled wide of the mark, and Jones, to show his contempt of such long-range courage, fired only his pistol in return.
But that was not the end of this remarkable68 cruise. Having failed to find the Earl of Selkirk on St. Mary’s Isle, Paul Jones squared away to the southward, hoping to pick up another full-rigged ship off Dublin or to meet with the “Drake” again. He knew that by this time the Admiralty was well informed as to his whereabouts, and that before many hours had passed he would be obliged to run the gauntlet of a whole line of British fire. But he hated to be beaten at anything, and since the night when he failed to grapple her had been burning to try conclusions yard-arm to yard-arm with the “Drake.”
On the twenty-fourth of April, just two weeks after sailing from the harbor of Brest, he hove to off the Lough of Belfast, where within the harbor he could plainly see the tall spars of the Englishman swinging at his anchorage. Paul Jones was puzzled at first to know how he was to lure60 the “Drake” out to sea, for a battle under the lee of the land in the harbor was not to be thought of. So he went[19] about from one tack25 to another, wearing ship and backing and filling, until the curiosity of the English captain, Burdon, was thoroughly69 aroused, and he sent one of his junior officers out in a cutter to find out who the stranger was. Jones ran his guns in and man?uvred so cleverly that the stern of the “Ranger” was kept towards the boat until he was well aboard. The young officer was rather suspicious, but, nothing daunted70, pulled up to the gangway in true man-o’-war style and went on deck. There he was met by an officer, who courteously71 informed him that he was on board the Continental sloop of war “Ranger,” Captain Paul Jones, and that he and his boat’s crew were prisoners of war.
In the meanwhile Captain Burdon, finding that his boat’s crew did not return, got up his anchor, shook out his sails, and cleared ship for action. He was already suspicious, and too good a seaman6 to let unpreparedness play any part in his actions. There was not very much wind, and slowly the “Drake” bore down on the silent vessel17 which lay, sails flapping idly as she rolled, on the swell72 of the Irish Sea. As the afternoon drew on the wind almost failed, so that it was an hour before sunset before the “Drake” could get within speaking range. Hardly a ripple73 stirred the[20] surface of the glassy swells74, and the stillness was ominous75 and oppressive.
When within a cable’s length of the “Ranger” Captain Burdon sent up his colors. Captain Jones followed his lead in a moment by running up the Stars and Stripes.
Suddenly a voice, looming76 big and hoarse in the silence, came from the “Drake,”—
“What ship is that?”
Paul Jones mounted the hammock nettings and, putting his speaking-trumpet to his lips, coolly replied,—
“The American Continental ship ‘Ranger.’ We have been waiting for you. The sun is but little more than an hour from setting, and it is time to begin.”
Then he turned and gave a low order to the man at the wheel, and the “Ranger” wore around so that her broadside would bear. Paul Jones always believed in striking the first blow. When they came before the wind the word was passed, and a mass of flame seemed to leap clear across the intervening water to the “Drake.” The “Ranger” shuddered77 with the shock and felt in a moment the crashing of the other’s broadside through her hull78 and rigging. The battle was on in earnest. Yard-arm to yard-arm they went, drifting down the wind, and the deep thundering of the cannonade was[21] carried over to the Irish hills, where masses of people were watching the smoke-enveloped duel79. The sun sank low, touching80 the purple hilltops, a golden ball that shed a ruddy glow over the scene and made the spectacle seem a dream rather than reality. Still they fought on.
It was a glorious fight—and as fair a one as history records. The “Drake” pounded away at the “Ranger’s” hull alone, while Jones was doing all he could with his smaller pieces to cripple his enemy’s rigging. First the “Drake’s” fore-tops’l yard was cut in two. The main dropped next, and the mizzen gaff was shot away. For purposes of man?uvring, the “Drake” was useless and drifted down, her jib trailing in the water and her shrouds81 and rigging dragging astern. She was almost a wreck82. As she heeled over on the swell, the gunners on the “Ranger” could see human blood mingling83 with the water of the division tubs that came from her scuppers. The first flag was shot away, but another was quickly run up to its place. In a moment that too was shot away from the hoisting84 halyard and fell into the water astern, where it trailed among the wreckage85. But still she fought on.
On the “Ranger” the loss had been comparatively slight. Lieutenant Wallingford and[22] one other man had been killed and there were five or six wounded men in the cockpit. Jones seemed to be everywhere, but still remained uninjured and directed the firing until the end. He saw that the sharpshooters in his tops were doing terrific execution on the decks of his adversary86, and at last he saw the imposing87 figure of Captain Burdon twist around for a second and then sink down to the deck. Another officer fell, and in a moment above the crash of division firing and the rattle88 of the musketry overhead he heard a cry for quarter.
The battle was at an end in a little over an hour. It was almost as great a victory as that of the “Bonhomme Richard” over the “Serapis.” Paul Jones’s ship carried eighteen guns; the Englishman carried twenty. The “Ranger” had one hundred and twenty-three men; the “Drake” had one hundred and fifty-one and carried many volunteers besides. The “Ranger” lost two killed and had six wounded; the “Drake” lost forty-two killed and wounded. Against great odds89 John Paul Jones still remained victorious90.
The people on shore heard the cannonading cease and saw the great clouds of gold-tinted smoke roll away to the south. There they saw the two vessels locked as if in an embrace of death and a great cheer went up.[23] They thought the “Drake” invincible91. The gray of twilight92 turned to black, and the ships vanished like spectres in the darkness. But late that night some fishermen in a boat came ashore with a sail from the store-room of the “Drake.” They said it had been given them by John Paul Jones. The people knew then that the “Drake” had been captured.
When the “Ranger” returned with her prizes to Brest, and his people told the tale of Paul Jones’s victory, France was electrified93. Neither in France nor in England would they at first believe it. France made him her hero. England offered ten thousand guineas for his head.
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1
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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2
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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4
continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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sloop
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| n.单桅帆船 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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7
precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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8
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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9
hemming
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| 卷边 | |
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10
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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11
brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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12
frigate
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| n.护航舰，大型驱逐舰 | |
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13
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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14
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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15
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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salutes
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| n.致敬，欢迎，敬礼( salute的名词复数 )v.欢迎，致敬( salute的第三人称单数 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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enviously
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| adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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scuttled
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| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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cargoes
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| n.（船或飞机装载的）货物( cargo的名词复数 )；大量，重负 | |
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garrisoned
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| 卫戍部队守备( garrison的过去式和过去分词 )； 派部队驻防 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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intimidate
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| vt.恐吓，威胁 | |
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spike
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| n.长钉，钉鞋；v.以大钉钉牢，使...失效 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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51
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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52
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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53
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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54
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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intimidating
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| vt.恐吓，威胁( intimidate的现在分词) | |
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spiking
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| n.尖峰形成v.加烈酒于( spike的现在分词 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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62
parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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64
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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72
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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73
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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81
shrouds
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| n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 )；寿衣；遮蔽物；覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 )；保密 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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hoisting
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| 起重，提升 | |
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wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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89
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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92
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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electrified
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| v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 )；使兴奋 | |
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