Commodore Paul Jones 8

Commodore Paul Jones 8

On this remarkable cruise Jones had captured sixteen vessels, eight of

which he manned and sent in as prizes, destroying five of the

remainder, and generously leaving three for the unfortunate fishermen

to reach their homes. He had carried out his orders to sink, burn,

destroy, and capture with characteristic thoroughness, but without

needless cruelty and oppression. He burned no dwelling houses, and

turned no non-combatants out of their homes in the middle of winter,

as Mowatt had done at Falmouth. He had entirely broken up the fishery

at Canso, had escaped by the exercise of the highest seamanship from

one British frigate, and had led another a merry dance in impotent

pursuit. Property belonging to the enemy had been destroyed to the

value of perhaps a million of dollars in round numbers, not to speak

of the effect upon their pride by the bold cruising of the little brig

of twelve 4-pound guns and seventy men.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER IV.

THE CRUISE OF THE ALFRED.

 

 

When his countrymen heard the story of this daring and successful

cruise, Jones immediately became the most famous officer of the new

navy. The _éclat_ he had gained by his brilliant voyage at once raised

him from a more or less obscure position, and gave him a great

reputation in the eyes of his countrymen, a reputation he did not

thereafter lose. But Jones was not a man to live upon a reputation. He

had scarcely arrived at Providence before he busied himself with plans

for another undertaking. He had learned from prisoners taken on his

last cruise that there were a number of American prisoners, at various

places, who were undergoing hard labor in the coal mines of Cape

Breton Island, and he conceived the bold design of freeing them if

possible.

 

We are here introduced to one striking characteristic, not the least

noble among many, of this great man. The appeal of the prisoner always

profoundly touched his heart. The freedom of his nature, his own

passionate love for liberty and independence, the heritage of his

Scotch hills perhaps, ever made him anxious and solicitous about those

who languished in captivity. It was but the working out of that spirit

which compelled him to relinquish his participation in the lucrative

slave trade. In all his public actions, he kept before him as one of

his principal objects the release of such of his countrymen as were

undergoing the horrors of British prisons.

 

[Illustration: Map showing the cruise of the first American squadron,

and of the Providence and the Alfred.]

 

The suggested enterprise found favor in the mind of Commodore Hopkins,

who forthwith assigned Jones to the command of a squadron comprising

the Alfred, the Providence, and the brigantine Hampden. Jones hoisted

his flag on board the Alfred and hastened his preparations for

departure. He found the greatest difficulty in manning his little

squadron, and finally, in despair of getting a sufficient crew to man

them all, he determined to set sail with the Alfred and the Hampden

only, the latter vessel being commanded by Captain Hoysted Hacker. He

received his orders on the 22d of October, and on the 27th the two

vessels got under way from Providence. The wind was blowing fresh at

the time, and Hacker, who seems to have been an indifferent sailor,

ran the Hampden on a ledge of rock, where she was so badly wrecked as

to be unseaworthy. Jones put back to his anchorage, and, having

transferred the crew of the Hampden to the Providence, set sail on the

2d of November.

 

Both vessels were very short-handed. The Alfred, whose proper

complement was about three hundred, which had sailed from Philadelphia

with two hundred and thirty-five, now could muster no more than one

hundred and fifty all told. The two vessels were short of water,

provisions, munitions, and everything else that goes to make up a ship

of war. Jones made up for all this deficiency by his own personality.

 

On the evening of the first day out the two vessels anchored in

Tarpauling Cove, near Nantucket. There they found a Rhode Island

privateer at anchor. In accordance with the orders of the commodore,

Jones searched her for deserters, and from her took four men on board

the Alfred. He was afterward sued in the sum of ten thousand pounds

for this action, but, though the commodore, as he stated, abandoned

him in his defense, nothing came of the suit.

 

On the 3d of November, by skillful and successful maneuvering, the two

ships passed through the heavy British fleet off Block Island, and

squared away for the old cruising ground on the Grand Banks. In

addition to the release of the prisoners there was another object in

the cruise. A squadron of merchant vessels loaded with coal for the

British army in New York was about to leave Louisburg under convoy.

Jones determined to intercept them if possible.

 

On the 13th, off Cape Canso again, the Alfred encountered the British

armed transport Mellish, of ten guns, having on board one hundred and

fifty soldiers. After a trifling resistance she was captured. She was

loaded with arms, munitions of war, military supplies, and ten

thousand suits of winter clothing, destined for Sir Guy Carleton's

army in Canada. She was the most valuable prize which had yet fallen

into the hands of the Americans. The warm clothing, especially, would

be a godsend to the ragged, naked army of Washington. Of so much

importance was this prize that Jones determined not to lose sight of

her, and to convoy her into the harbor himself. Putting a prize crew

on board, he gave instructions that she was to be scuttled if there

appeared any danger of her recapture.

 

About this time two other vessels were captured, one of which was a

large fishing vessel, from which he was able to replenish his meager

store of provisions. On the 14th of November a severe gale blew up

from the northwest, accompanied by a violent snowstorm. Captain Hacker

bore away to the southward before the storm and parted company during

the night, returning incontinently to Newport. The weather continued

execrable. Amid blinding snowstorms and fierce winter gales the Alfred

and her prizes beat up along the desolate iron-bound shore. Jones

again entered the harbor of Canso, and, finding a large English

transport laden with provisions for the army aground on a shoal near

the mouth of the harbor, sent a boat party which set her on fire.

Seeing an immense warehouse filled with oil and material for whale and

cod fisheries, the boats made a sudden dash for the shore, and,

applying a torch to the building, it was soon consumed.

 

Beating off the shore, still accompanied by his prizes, he continued

up the coast of Cape Breton toward Louisburg, looking for the coal

fleet. It was his good fortune to run across it in a dense fog. It

consisted of a number of vessels under the convoy of the frigate

Flora, a ship which would have made short work of him if she could

have run across him. Favored by the impenetrable fog, with great

address and hardihood Jones succeeded in capturing no less than three

of the convoy, and escaped unnoticed with his prizes.

 

Two days afterward he came across a heavily armed British privateer

from Liverpool, which he took after a slight resistance. But now, when

he attempted to make Louisburg to carry out his design of levying on

the place and releasing the prisoners, he found that the harbor was

closed by masses of ice, and that it was impossible to effect a

landing. Indeed, his ships were in a perilous condition already. He

had manned no less than six prizes, which had reduced his short crew

almost to a prohibitive degree. On board the Alfred he had over one

hundred and fifty prisoners, a number greatly in excess of his own

men; his water casks were nearly empty, and his provisions were

exhausted. He had six prizes with him, one of exceptional value.

Nothing could be gained by lingering on the coast, and he decided,

therefore, to return.

 

The little squadron, under convoy of the Alfred and the armed

privateer, which he had manned and placed under the command of

Lieutenant Saunders, made its way toward the south in the fierce

winter weather. Off St. George's Bank they again encountered the

Milford. It was late in the afternoon when her topsails rose above the

horizon. The wind was blowing fresh from the northwest; the Alfred and

her prizes were on the starboard tack, the enemy was to windward. From

his previous experience Jones was able fairly to estimate the speed of

the Milford. A careful examination convinced him that it would be

impossible for the latter to close with his ships before nightfall. He

therefore placed the Alfred and the privateer between the English

frigate lasking down upon them and the rest of his ships, and

continued his course. He then signaled the prizes, with the exception

of the privateer, that they should disregard any orders or signals

which he might give in the night, and hold on as they were.

 

The prizes were slow sailers, and, as the slowest necessarily set the

pace for the whole squadron, the Milford gradually overhauled them. At

the close of the short winter day, when the night fell and the

darkness rendered sight of the pursued impossible, Jones showed a set

of lantern signals, and, hanging a top light on the Alfred, right

where it would be seen by the Englishmen, at midnight, followed by the

privateer, he changed his course directly away from the prizes. The

Milford promptly altered her course and pursued the light. The prizes,

in obedience to their orders, held on as they were. At daybreak the

prizes were nowhere to be seen, and the Milford was booming along

after the privateer and the Alfred.

 

To run was no part of Paul Jones' desires, and he determined to make a

closer inspection of the Milford, with a view to engaging if a

possibility of capturing her presented itself; so he bore up and

headed for the oncoming British frigate. The privateer did the same. A

nearer view, however, developed the strength of the enemy, and

convinced him that it would be madness to attempt to engage with the

Alfred and the privateer in the condition he then was, so he hauled

aboard his port tacks once more, and, signaling to the privateer,

stood off again. For some reason--Jones imagined that it was caused by

a mistaken idea of the strength of the Milford--Saunders signaled to

Jones that the Milford was of inferior force, and disregarding his

orders foolishly ran down under her lee from a position of perfect

safety, and was captured without a blow. The lack of proper

subordination in the nascent navy of the United States brought about

many disasters, and this was one of them. Jones characterized this as

an act of folly; it is difficult to dismiss it thus mildly. I would

fain do no man an injustice, but if a man wanted to be a traitor that

is the way he would act. Jones' own account of this adventure, which follows, is of deep interest: