Commodore Paul Jones 28

Commodore Paul Jones 28

CHAPTER XI.

AFTER THE BATTLE REMARKS ON THE ACTION.

 

 

"They have struck their flag!" cried Jones, who had witnessed the

action. "Cease firing!" His powerful voice rang through the two

ships with such a note of triumph as has rarely been heard in the

fought-over confines of the narrow seas.

 

As the little scene transpired above, from the decks beneath them came

the roar of the Serapis' guns. She had resumed her fire. Her men, too,

were of heroic breed! A British ship captain among the English

prisoners, recovering from his panic and noting the desperate

condition of the Richard, had slipped away from the pumps, and,

eluding the observation of Dale and his men, had crawled through the

gaping openings in the sides of the Richard and the Serapis at the

risk of his life--for the first Englishman who saw him moved to cut

him down--and had announced the dreadful plight of the Richard to the

first lieutenant of the Serapis, who had succeeded in rallying his men

and forcing them once more back to the guns.

 

But the cry of the American was taken up by the men on the different

ships until Dale came bounding up the hatchway, when Jones ordered him

to board the English frigate and take possession. Followed by

Midshipman Mayrant and a party of boarders with drawn swords, Dale

leaped up on the rail of the Richard, seized the end of the main brace

pennant, swung himself to the lower Serapis, and jumped down upon her

quarter-deck. As Mayrant followed he was met by an English seaman

coming from the waist, pike in hand. The sailor, ignorant of or

disbelieving the surrender, thrust violently at Mayrant, inflicting a

serious wound in the thigh before he could be stopped.

 

Aft upon the lee side of the deck, Pearson was standing alone with

bowed head, leaning against the rail, the flag in one hand, his face

being covered by the other. As the Americans clambered over the rail

he raised his head--his hand fell to the breast of his coat. There was

the look of defeat, the saddest aspect humanity can bear, upon his

face. As Dale approached him, the English first lieutenant, not

believing that the ship had struck, also came bounding from below.

 

"Have you struck?" cried Dale, stepping before the English captain.

 

"Yes, sir," was the reply. The anguish of the broken-hearted sailor

was apparent in his face and in his voice.

 

"Sir, I have orders to send you on board the ship alongside," replied

the American.

 

"Very good, sir," answered Pearson, reaching for his sword and

dropping the flag. Just at this moment his subordinate interrupted

them.

 

"Has the enemy struck to you, sir?" he asked.

 

"No, sir; on the contrary, he has struck to us," interposed Dale. But

the English lieutenant refused to believe him.

 

"A few more broadsides, sir, and they are ours," he persisted. "Their

prisoners have escaped. They are sinking!"

 

"The ship has struck, sir," Dale burst out hurriedly, scarcely giving

the miserable Pearson an opportunity of replying, "and you are my

prisoner!" Very properly, however, the English officer would take such

news from no one but his own captain.

 

"Sir!" he cried in astonishment to Pearson, "have you struck?"

 

"Yes, sir," at last answered Pearson reluctantly.

 

There was a deadly little pause.

 

"I have nothing more to say, sir," replied the officer at last,

turning to go below. As Dale interposed, he added, "If you will permit

me to go below I will silence the firing of the lower deck guns."

 

"No, sir," answered Dale, "you will accompany your captain on board

our ship at once, by the orders of Commodore Jones. Pass the word to

cease firing. Your ship has surrendered!"

 

Dale was fearful lest the lieutenant should go below and, refusing to

accept the captain's decision, attempt to resume the conflict. So,

with his usual presence of mind, he sternly insisted upon both

officers proceeding on board the Richard at once. In the face of the

swarming crowd of the Richard's men on the Serapis' quarter-deck they

had, of course, no option but to obey. By the aid of the dangling

ropes they climbed up to the rail of the Indiaman and thence dropped

to the quarter-deck of the American ship. They found themselves in the

presence of a little man in a blue uniform which was rent and torn

from the labors he had undergone during the action. He was hatless,

and his dark face was grimed with the smoke and soil of battle. Blood

spattering from a slight wound upon his forehead was coagulated upon

his cheek. In the lurid illumination of the fire roaring fiercely

forward, which, with the moon's pallid irradiation, threw a ghastly

light over the scene of horror, he looked a hideous spectacle--a

picture of demoniac war. Nothing but the fierce black eyes still

burning with the awful passions of the past few hours and gleaming out

of the darkness, with the exultant light of the present conquest

proclaimed the high humanity of the man. In his hand he held a drawn

sword. As the English officers stepped upon the deck he advanced

toward them and bowed gracefully.

 

"You are----" began Pearson interrogatively.

 

"Commodore John Paul Jones, of the American Continental squadron, and

the ship Bon Homme Richard, at your service, gentlemen; and you

are----"

 

"Captain Richard Pearson, of His Britannic Majesty's ship Serapis,"

responded the other, bowing haughtily, as he tendered his sword.

 

Pearson is reputed to have said on this occasion, "I regret at being

compelled to strike to a man who has fought with a halter around his

neck," or words to that effect. He did not utter the remark at that

time, according to Jones' specific statement made long afterward. The

substance of the statement was used, however, in Pearson's testimony

before a court martial subsequently for the loss of his ship. And the

story probably arose from that circumstance. Jones retained the sword,

which was customary at that period, though different customs obtained

later.

 

As he received the proffered sword the American replied, with a

magnanimity as great as his valor:

 

"Sir, you have fought like a hero, and I make no doubt that your

sovereign will reward you in the most ample manner."

 

His countrymen have ever loved Paul Jones for the chivalrous nobility

of this gracious answer. But he wasted no further time in discussion.

There was too much to be done; not a moment could be lost. It was half

after ten o'clock at night; the battle was over, but their tasks were

not yet completed. Both ships were burning furiously. Their decks were

filled with desperately wounded men, whose agonies demanded immediate

attention. Their screams and groans rose above the sound of the

crackling, roaring flames. With but half a single crew Jones had to

man both ships, put out the fires, force the escaped English prisoners

back into the hold, secure the additional prisoners, and care for the

wounded on the Serapis. From the actions of the Alliance, too, there

was no telling what Landais might take it into his head to do. He had

fired twice upon them; he might do it again, and possibly it might be

necessary for Jones to defend the flagship and her prize from a more

determined attack by Landais than any to which they had yet been

subjected.

 

He turned over the command of the Serapis to Dale, sending him, as

usual, a generous contingent for a prize crew, and then, as a

preliminary to further work, the lashings which had held the two

vessels in their death grapple were cut asunder. The Richard slowly

began to draw past her beaten antagonist. Dale immediately filled his

head sail and shifted his helm to wear ship and carry out his orders.

He was much surprised to find that the Serapis lay still and did not

obey the helm. Fearing that the wheel ropes had been shot away, he

sent a quartermaster to examine them, who reported that they were

intact. At this moment the master of the Serapis, coming aft and

observing Dale's surprise, informed him that the English ship was

anchored, which was the first intimation of that fact the Americans

had received. Dale ordered the cable cut, whereupon the ship paid off

and began to shove through the water, which fortunately still

continued calm. As he spoke, he rose from the binnacle upon which he

had been seated, and immediately fell prone to the deck. He discovered

at that moment, by his inability to stand, that he had been severely

wounded in the leg by a splinter, a thing which he had not noticed in

the heat of the action. As he lay upon the deck, Mr. Henry Lunt, the

second lieutenant of the Richard, came on board the Serapis at this

juncture. This officer had been dispatched in the afternoon to pursue

the brigantine, and had caused his boat's crew to lay on their oars at

a safe distance from the two ships during the whole of the desperate

battle, because, as he states, he "thought it not prudent to go

alongside in time of action." Mr. Lunt no doubt lived to regret the

pusillanimous "prudence" of his conduct on this occasion, although, if

that conduct be an index to his character, his services would not be

of great value in the battle. Dale turned over the command of the

Serapis to Lunt, and was assisted on board the Richard.

 

As the Richard cleared the Serapis, the tottering mainmast of that

ship, which had been subjected to a continual battering from the

9-pounders and which had only been sustained by the interlocking

yards, came crashing down, just above the deck, carrying with it the

mizzen topmast, doing much damage as it fell, and adding an element of

shipwreck to the other evidence of disaster. The frigate was also on

fire, and the flames, unchecked in the confusion of the surrender,

were gaining great headway. Moved by a sense of their common peril and

necessity, the English crew joined with the Americans in clearing away

the wreck and subduing the fire. They did not effect this without a

hard struggle, but they finally succeeded in saving the ship and

following the Richard.

 

The situation on that ship was precarious in the extreme. She was very

low in the water and leaking like a sieve. She was still on fire in

several places, and the flames were blazing more furiously than ever.

There was not a minute's respite allowed her crew. Having conquered

the English, they turned to fight the fire and water. The prisoners

were forced to continue their exhausting toil at the pumps. Pressing