Paul Jones left St. Petersburg on May 7, to take command of the Russian squadron in the Black Sea. Before his departure he requested of the empress "never to be condemned unheard." This, one of the most modest demands Jones ever made, was, as the sequel will show, denied him. He arrived on the 19th at St. Elizabeth, the headquarters of Prince Potemkin, the former favorite of the empress and the commander in chief of the war against the Turks. Potemkin, under whose orders Jones stood, was of a thoroughly despotic type. As Potemkin was a prince, Jones was at first disposed to flatter him extravagantly, but the commodore was by nature averse to being dictated to, particularly by those whom he deemed his inferiors, and it was not long before they began to quarrel.

Paul Jones was put in command of the squadron which was to oppose the fleet of the Capitan Pacha, and thus help the Russian army to take Oczakow, a town lying at the junction of the Bog with the Knieper, which had been strongly fortified by the Turks. Unfortunately, Jones was not only subject to the orders of Prince Potemkin, but the immediate command of the fleet was divided between him and a thoroughly incompetent and arrogant adventurer, the Prince of Nassau. Jones commanded the heavier ships, forming the squadron, while Nassau was in charge of a considerable force of Russian gunboats and barges, composing what was called the flotilla. Between Jones and Nassau existed extreme jealousy. In fact, the only officer in high position with whom Jones stood on an amicable footing was the distinguished General Suwarrow. Early in the campaign the Russian had advised Jones to allow Potemkin to take the credit of any success that might result, and to hold his tongue,—two things which Jones, unfortunately, was quite incapable of doing.

It is impossible to enter into the details of this campaign, but enough may be given to explain the difficulties which Jones encountered. After some unimportant engagements between the two fleets, an action of importance occurred which disclosed the deep differences between Jones and his Russian allies. The Capitan Pacha attempted to attack the Russian fleet, but one of his ships ran aground, and the others anchored. Jones saw his opportunity and ordered a general attack on the confused Turkish fleet, which cut anchor and fled, with Jones in pursuit. The Wolodimer, Jones's flagship, steered straight for the Capitan Pacha's ship, which ran aground; whereupon one of Jones's officers, without orders, dropped the Wolodimer's anchor. In the mean time the flotilla, under Nassau, lagged behind, and Jones, in order to offset the operations of the Turkish flotilla, which had already destroyed one of the Russian frigates, left his anchored flagship to go in search of Nassau, whom he found with his flotilla occupied in firing on two Turkish ships which were aground and were, moreover, under the guns of the Russian ships, and might justly be regarded as prizes. Nassau persisted in this useless undertaking until the enemy's vessels had been burned and the crews had perished in the flames. When Jones found he was unable to withdraw the prince from this bloody and unprofitable proceeding, he ordered an attack, with a part of Nassau's ships, upon the Turkish flotilla, which was soon driven off.

During the night the Capitan Pacha attempted to pass out from the Liman, with the remains of his squadron; but nine of his ships grounded, and, being thus brought within range of the Russian fort on the extreme point of Kinburn, were fired upon and were practically at the mercy of the Russians. Nevertheless, the Prince of Nassau advanced in the morning with his flotilla, and, to Jones's extreme rage, burned the grounded Turkish ships, three thousand Turks who were practically prisoners perishing in the flames.

On July 1 Nassau, with his flotilla, advanced against the flotilla of the Turks, but did not seem anxious to go within grapeshot; and Jones, with his heavier ships, went to capture five Turkish galleys lying under the cover of the guns of the Turkish battery and flotilla. Two of these galleys were captured and the others destroyed. Nassau and Alexiano directed their belligerent efforts against the captured galleys, one of which was—with all the slaves on board,—ruthlessly burned. Other Turkish ships were likewise needlessly destroyed, a mode of warfare quite at variance with the traditions of Jones. He expressed his consequent disgust in terms more genuine than diplomatic.

As a reward of his idiotic actions, on the basis of an inflated and dishonest report of the battle which was sent to the empress, Nassau received a valuable estate, the military order of St. George, and authority to hoist the flag of rear-admiral; other officers were also substantially rewarded; while all that was given to Jones, whose honest but unflattering report had been rejected by Potemkin, was the order of St. Anne. It is easy to imagine Jones's bitterness. He says in his journal: "If he (Nassau) has received the rank of vice-admiral, I will say in the face of the universe that he is unworthy of it."

Referring to the cowardice of his associates who, in order to escape, he says, provided their boats with small chaloupes, Jones writes:—

"For myself I took no precautions. I saw that I must conquer or die."

Jones's bitterness, partly justified by the facts, seems at this time to have reached almost the point of madness, and the quarrel between him and his associates increased in virulence. In the course of the unimportant operations following the defeat of the Turks, during which the squadron maintained a strict blockade of Oczakow, Jones was sent on a number of trivial enterprises by Potemkin, whose language was carefully chosen to irritate the fiery Scotchman. On one occasion he commanded Jones "to receive him (the Capitan Pacha) courageously, and drive him back. I require that this be done without loss of time; if not, you will be made answerable for every neglect." In reply, Jones complained of the injustice done his officers. Shortly afterwards Jones doubted the wisdom of one of Potemkin's orders, and wrote: "Every man is master of his opinion, and this is mine." When Potemkin again wrote Jones "to defend himself courageously," the latter's annotation was: "It will be hard to believe that Prince Potemkin addressed such words to Paul Jones." To the prince he wrote in terms alternately flattering and complaining:—

"Your Highness has so good a heart that you will excuse the hastiness of expression which escaped me. I am anxious to continue in the service."

But the despotic Potemkin had made up his mind that he could not get along with Paul Jones, and with an indirectness characteristic of him, secured an order for the latter for service "in the northern seas." This was practically a dismissal for Jones, who returned in virtual disgrace to St. Petersburg, where he hoped to be put in command of the Baltic fleet. Catherine, however, was now sincerely anxious to get rid of Jones, but on account of his powerful friends in France did not dare to do so openly. She had "condemned him unheard," and repeated her injustice in a still more pointed way; for in March, 1789, while Jones was waiting for the command which never came, he was falsely accused of an atrocious crime and forbidden to approach the palace of the empress, being again "condemned unheard." Had it not been for the French ambassador, de SÉgur, who had a strong influence on Catherine, the crime might always have been attributed to Paul Jones. De SÉgur, however, proved to Catherine that Jones was the victim of a plot, and she was forced to recall the unfortunate man to court. Soon afterwards Jones, who had for a long time been greatly suffering in health, was given two years' leave of absence.

Paul Jones's experience in Russia was the most unfortunate part of an unfortunate career. His services to that country, which were considerable, were never recognized. His report of the Liman campaign had been rejected, and he had been unjustly deposed from the actual command and an empty promise substituted. His letters had been systematically intercepted, and he was a victim, not only of a detestable plot involving his moral character, but of many other charges equally virulent and untrue.

It was grotesquely reported, for instance, that he had murdered his nephew, who in reality did not exist. The leave of absence, moreover, must have been to a man of his spirit a severe blow.

At the close of the journal of the Liman campaign Jones's bitterness is pathetically expressed in inflated self-praise, called out by the desire to confute the calumnies of his enemies. "Every one to whom I have the honor to be known," he wrote, "is aware that I am the least selfish of mankind.... This is known to the whole American people.... Have I not given proofs sufficiently striking that I have a heart the most sensitive, a soul the most elevated?... I am the only man in the world that possesses a sword given by the king of France ... but what completes my happiness is the esteem and friendship of the most virtuous of men, whose fame will be immortal; and that a Washington, a Franklin, a D'Estaing, a La Fayette, think the bust of Paul Jones worthy of being placed side by side with their own.... Briefly, I am satisfied with myself."