  So severe was the damage done the Ariel, that she was not able to leave port again for America until the 18th of December. As she carried a very valuable cargo of arms, besides important dispatches, and was weakly armed, Paul Jones was directed by Dr. Franklin, who was still the representative of America in France, to avoid rather than seek a conflict with the enemy. To a man of Paul Jones’s temperament these directions were almost impossible to follow. But fortunately for Dr. Franklin, and perhaps fortunately for Paul Jones’s enemies, he had no serious encounter until he was near the Island of Barbadoes. He had chosen the southern passage, because his enemies expected him to take the usual northern passage. On a warm afternoon in the latter part of January, as the Ariel was proceeding under a fair wind, a remarkably fast sailing frigate was observed approaching on the opposite tack. The Ariel was deep in the water with her heavy stores, and as Paul Jones appreciated the necessity for prudence, he rather wished to avoid speaking the stranger, as she was tolerably certain to be a British ship. The officers were all on deck examining the frigate, when Paul Jones, who had his glass to his eye, turned to them and said, smiling: “I am sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen, but I don’t think we can ‘see’ her. She is too heavy for us, and sails too well. It is not our own lives and fortunes that we would stake, but the arms for the soldiers of Washington, and that would be an irreparable loss if we were captured. So we must cut and run for it.” The officers at once saw the wisdom of this, although they would have dearly liked a brush with the beautiful frigate. Dale, however, in turning around, caught sight of Bill Green, with Danny Dixon by his side, and both of them on the broad grin. Bill’s mouth was literally stretched from ear to ear. “What is it, Green?” asked Dale, who was a great favorite with the veteran quartermaster, “what are you smiling at?” “I ain’t a-smilin’, sir,” replied Bill, showing every tooth in his mouth in a perfectly phenomenal grin, while Danny openly “snickered” behind his hand. “What are you doing then?” inquired Dale, smiling in spite of himself. “Well, then, sir, since you axes me,” replied Bill, trying to look very solemn, and putting up his hand to conceal his laughter, “the cap’n says as he ain’t got no notion o’ fightin’ that ’ere craft. I reckon he thinks he ain’t, but if Cap’n Paul Jones kin come within range o’ a British ship without takin’ a shot at her, why, sir, my name ain’t Bill Green, and I ain’t never see Cap’n Paul Jones. That’s all, sir.” At which Bill ended with a suppressed guffaw, and Dale himself winked knowingly. “Be careful what you say of the captain,” said Dale, with another wink; “he’s got no notion of fighting. She’s too heavy for us, and you know the captain never tackles a ship that’s too heavy for him,” and Dale winked prodigiously at every word he uttered. “That’s true, sir,” grinned Bill, “but if you’ll excuse a old fellow, Mr. Dale, I see you has on a new uniform, sir, and I’d be advisin’ of you to git out your old clo’es, because it jest might happen, sir, that the Britisher might fire at us; and then, axerdentally, sir, somebody might pull a lockstring, and the port might be open, sir, and the shot might hit the Britisher, and then, without the cap’n a-wantin’ it, as knowin’ as how the enemy was too heavy for him, he might have to fight agin his will. ’Tain’t ornlikely, sir, that somethin’ might come of it, and the cap’n may have to fight, sir, though he mortially hates to.” Dale passed on laughing, went below, and took Bill Green’s advice; he took off his new undress uniform, and put on another one rather the worse for wear. Just as he was finishing his toilet, Danny Dixon tapped at the door of his cabin. “If you please, sir, the cap’n sends his compliments, and wants to see you on deck.” In a few moments Dale was on deck. As he walked up to Paul Jones, the captain said: “I looked about for you, and my boy told me you had gone below to shift.” “Yes,” answered Dale, with a gleam in his eyes. “We know that you don’t care to tackle that ship; she’s too heavy for us, and you never like to fight except when you are on an equality; but all the same, as Bill Green says, ‘something may come of it,’ so I went below to take off my uniform, which is a little too good to wear upon such an occasion as may arise.” Paul Jones looked sternly at Dale for a moment, and then, in spite of himself, burst out laughing. Nevertheless, the Ariel carried all sail to escape the ship, which was now evidently pursuing. As darkness came on the Ariel seemed to be gaining, and during the night watches the officers reported that she was completely out of sight. Just as the darkness melted into dawn, however, Paul Jones, who had been on deck several times during the night, appeared, and as the faint gray of the early light illumined the sky he pointed astern. There was the frigate, flying a British ensign, and not more than a mile away. Without drumbeat, or any noise whatever, the Ariel was cleared for action. She was not sailing her best, owing to her deeply laden condition, and Paul Jones ordered everything thrown overboard that could impede her sailing and fighting qualities. This so much improved the sailing of the ship that she now stretched her legs in earnest. Everybody on board felt perfectly certain that the captain meant to fight, but as the frigate was now plainly pursuing the American sloop of war, Paul Jones wished to test the sailing and manoeuvring of his ship under her lighter conditions before engaging. This conduct evidently puzzled the frigate, and the state of uncertainty was further increased by the Ariel hoisting British colors, but occasionally firing a stern chaser as she ran away. At last, toward night, Paul Jones, having made all his preparations, the Ariel hauled up her mainsail, took in her royal yards, and waited for her enemy. She had not yet hoisted her American colors, but her batteries were lighted up and her ports open. “Why, Green,” said Dale, passing him, as Danny Dixon appeared with a string of battle lanterns ready to be lighted, “it looks as if we were going to have a brush, after all.” “It do, sir,” answered Bill solemnly. “The cap’n mortially hated it, and it do seem funny he couldn’t help it when the ship was gittin’ over the water so much faster than she was in the beginnin’. It puzzles me, it do,” he added, shaking his head waggishly. The two ships were now within hail. It was Paul Jones’s intention to send up the American ensign as soon as the enemy had got near enough to recognize it in the fast gathering gloom, but the sailor who had hoisted the British ensign had not taken care to make fast the other end of the halyards, so as to draw it down rapidly, and there was some difficulty in getting the British colors down and the American colors up. This enabled the British ship to range up close under the lee quarter of the Ariel. The short tropical twilight was fast deepening into night, but a brilliant moon trembled in the heavens, and the dark-blue dome was flecked with stars. The two ships lay close to each other, like phantom ships upon the water, but the light from their lanterns and batteries glowed redly. In the midst of a deathlike silence Lieutenant Lunt’s voice rang out the questions given him in a whisper by Paul Jones, who stood near him. “Ship ahoy! What ship is that?” asked Lunt. “His Majesty’s ship Triumph,” replied the British captain. “Of how many guns?” asked Lunt. Everybody awaited the answer to this in breathless silence. There was a long pause, and Lunt repeated his question. The answer came back purposely unintelligible. Officers and men cast significant glances around. That meant the British ship was ready to fight if the stranger should prove an enemy. “What is the name of your captain?” was next asked. “Captain John Pindar.” “Any news from the rebels?” asked Lunt. This threw the British captain off his guard, particularly as the sailor had not yet been able to get the British colors down, and they were still flying. Captain Pindar came to the rail of the Triumph and gave a long account of affairs in America, which were progressing badly for the British. After all the information possible had been obtained, most of which was highly satisfactory to the Americans, Paul Jones himself called out: “Put out your boat and come on board, bringing your commission, so that I can see whether you are really in the British navy or not.” At this Captain Pindar’s suspicions were excited, and it was some moments before he replied: “You have not told me who you are, and, besides, my boat is leaky.” Just then the British colors came down and the American ensign was hoisted. “Look at my ensign,” cried Paul Jones, “and consider the danger of refusing.” To this the British captain pluckily replied: “I will answer for twenty guns on my ship, and I and every one of my people are Englishmen.” “I will give you five minutes to make up your mind to come on board,” said Paul Jones, “and if you do not, at the end of that time I shall fire into you.” Then, all at once, the people on the Triumph waked up to their danger. The five minutes were spent in hurried preparation by them, but on the Ariel every man was at his station, and not one moved or spoke. The five minutes being up, the Ariel backed her topsails, ran close under the stern of the Triumph, and let fly her broadside. The men in the tops also gave a volley. The British, unprepared, fired ineffectively and without order. The Triumph was so obviously at the mercy of the Ariel that within ten minutes her colors were hauled down and a cry for quarter resounded. Instantly the order to cease firing was given, and the Americans gave three cheers. But while they were yet cheering they observed that the British ship had shaken out her sails and was drawing ahead. The smoke of the two or three broadsides fired hid her for a moment, and when it drifted off the Triumph was observed to be some distance off on the weather quarter of the Ariel, and tacking. Paul Jones instantly suspected the treachery of the Triumph’s captain, because it is a part of the code of morals in war that a surrender should be in good faith, particularly when quarter has been asked for and given. The Ariel immediately set her mainsail and made after the fleeing ship. But it was in vain. The Triumph had too long a lead, and, the night suddenly becoming dark, she was lost to sight. Although Paul Jones had conquered, his prey had escaped. The Americans were indignant, but indignation could do no good. They then resumed their course toward America, and on the 18th of February, 1781, the Ariel cast anchor in the harbor of Philadelphia. Paul Jones had been absent from America three years, three months, and eighteen days. In that time he had struck terror upon the coasts of England, Scotland, and Ireland; he had defied the might of England, had vanquished every enemy with which he had fought, and had made himself one of the heroes of the sea, whose name will live as long as ships traverse the ocean. |
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