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PAUL could not forget that time was flying,
and controlled his impatience with difficulty, so keen was his desire to
be once more at sea. Every rope, every spar he had inspected, every gun
tested, for some of them had been cast in America, which was a new
venture, and their worth had yet to be proved. His simple cabin bore
traces of the handiwork of his feminine admirers, in those artless
trifles which show such good-will and collect so much dust. The
wiseacres predicted the Ranger could not weather the October gales, so
top-heavy was she; advised Captain Jones to follow time-honoured
precedent and cut down her masts, or Davy Jones's locker would be his
portion. But the Captain had never known failure; he was young, and
thirsting for adventure, as were the crew, which he describes as "the
best I have ever seen, and I believe the best crew afloat; nearly all
are native Americans, and the proportion of able seamen to the total is
much beyond the average." There was
the usual fly in the ointment, for the United States treasury was so
poor there was the greatest difficulty in getting materials for sails,
and Jones complains of the heavy gales while at anchor. "The ship with
difficulty rides it out, with yards and top-masts struck, and whole
cable ahead. When it clears up I expect the wind from the northwest, and
shall not fail to embrace it, although I have not now a spare sail, nor
materials to make one. Some of those I have are made of hissings. I
never had so disagreeable a service to perform as that which I have now
accomplished, and of which another will claim the credit as well as the
profit. However, in doing my utmost I am sensible that I have done no
more than my duty." The deepest lament wrung from the unconquerable
captain is, that the "best crew I ever saw" would be limited to the
entirely insufficient ration of "only thirty gallons of rum for the
voyage."
A large number of the crew were
Portsmouth men, which deepened the interest in the venture, and the fame
of Jones promised a rich harvest from the sea if all went well. There
had been the usual haggling in Congress about the allotment of the
prizes, and a reluctance in complying with the glowing terms offered in
the handbills posted about to entice sailors to enlist. As soon as Jones
arrived to take over the Ranger, he was confronted with the
dissatisfaction of forty-three men, who had been enlisted there, "caught
by the misstatements as to 'ship money and advances," which could not be
carried out " under the regulations of Congress." Jones knew that " no
such achievements are possible to an unhappy ship with a sullen crew,"
and instantly set about to right the grievance by addressing a letter to
the men through Lieutenant Hall.
"I would not deceive any man who has
entered or may enter to serve under my command. I consider myself as
being under a personal obligation to these brave men who have cheerfully
enlisted to serve with me, and I accept their act as proof of their good
opinion of me, which I so highly value that I cannot permit it to be
dampened in the least degree by misunderstanding or failure to perform
engagements. If necessary, or to whatever extent it may be necessary, I
will personally undertake, after exhausting my proper powers in their
behalf under the regulations, to make good at my own risk any remainder.
I wish all my men to be happy and contented. The conditions of the
handbills will be strictly complied with."
To put matters on a satisfactory footing,
Jones advanced one hundred and forty-seven guineas out of his own
pocket, the repayment of which was delayed until 1782. This represented
the difference between the £360 which the men should have received, at
the rate of eight pounds apiece for thirty able seamen, and four pounds
apiece for thirteen landsmen and boys, and the sum allowed them by
Congress.
Jones impatiently awaited the despatches
he was to carry to France, the contents as yet being a dark secret,
though Robert Morris hinted their purport to be of immense political
significance. The Marine Committee had selected the Ranger for this
mission as she was a fast sailer, and their experience of her captain
convinced them that if human power could achieve that end, the
despatches would be safely delivered at their destination; for the
vehement Paul was at last beginning to receive some recognition of his
fearlessness and intrepidity from those who controlled the United States
Navy. The few trial cruises Jones had made in the Ranger to "shake down
his crew, set up his rigging, test the set of his sails, and find out
the best trim of his ship" proved so satisfactory that, save for the
lack of a good many essentials, the Captain was able to congratulate
himself on the shipshapeness of the Ranger and her crew.
At last the news came that on October 17,
1777, General Bourgoyne's forces had surrendered. With incredible
swiftness couriers spread the tidings over the country. From Stillwater
to Portsmouth is over one hundred and forty miles as the crow flies, and
a good hundred and seventy by the uncertain roads, and the news reached
Portsmouth in thirty hours; brought by one courier, who ate and slept in
the saddle, dismounting only to change horses."
It was not until midnight of the 31st of
October that the official despatches were placed in Paul Jones's hands,
and before the dawn the Ranger had dropped downstream, and was clear of
the Isle of Shoals, ten miles off the coast, going free, course east by
south, half east, wind north-west, blowing fresh, the sea cross and
choppy from an old swell of an easterly gale two days before. "I will
spread this news in France in thirty days," Jones wrote on the receipt
for the despatches, which the messenger took back in the "shore boat,"
listening enviously to the hearty cheer which rang out on the cold,
clear air as the Painter was cast off, and the little boat bobbed about
in the wake left by the swift-sailing Ranger.
During the last two days' run I took two
prizes bound from Madeira and Malaga respectively, with wines and dried
fruit, etc., for London. I sent one to Brest and convoyed the other to
Nantes," he informed the Marine Committee, stating at the same time his
reason for selecting a northerly course, "which would be free from the
enemy's cruisers at this time of year," being aware that the great
object of the voyage was to deliver the important news at the earliest
moment in France; not "wishing to be chased out of my course by the
enemy's frigates with the necessary accompanying risk of being captured
or destroyed." His judgment was not at fault. They met with no hindrance
of any sort; no ship being sighted until, two days' run west of Ushant,
they "spoke a Dutch East Indiaman in the Bay of Biscay. I informed the
Dutch captain of the surrender of Bourgoyne, and requested him to repeat
the intelligence with my compliments to any British captain he might
fall in with," he concludes, with a personal touch enlivening in a dry
official despatch.
Paul Jones left no record except the
Ranger's log, but Lieutenant Hall gives details, far from uninteresting,
of that "terrific voyage."
"I had sailed with many ea4ins in all
kinds of voyages, but I had never seen a ship crowded as Captain Jones
drove the Ranger. . . . Captain Jones held to his northerly course as
time was the object, though the wind was adverse, and stuck grimly to
his great circle, drawn between 470 and 500 North. As the wind hung all
the time between north-north-east and cast-north-east with but a few
veerings outside those points, it was always forward of the beam on the
true course, and often near dead ahead. Imagine, then, the situation of
the Ranger's crew, with a top- heavy and crank ship under their feet,
and a commander who day and night insisted on every rag she could
stagger under without laying clear down!
As it was, she came close to beam ends
more than once, and on one occasion righted only by letting fly sheets
cut with hatchets. During all this trying work Captain Jones was his own
navigating officer, keeping the deck eighteen or twenty hours out of
every twenty-four, often serving extra grog to the men with his own
hands, and by his example silencing all disposition to grumble. In the
worst of it the watch was lap-watched so that the men would be eight
hours on and four off; but no one complained."
Mr. Hall was right when he says, "It
speaks well alike for commander and crew that not a man was punished, or
even severely reprimanded, during this 'terrific voyage.'" It would,
indeed, have kept Satan on the alert to discover those "idle hands" for
which he so obligingly finds employment. Hard pressed as the crew were,
they had time for an occasional "sing-song," and Midshipman Chancy Hill
produced a song, on which Jones comments, "that while the text is rude
in some parts and the language in one line not quite polite," was a
great favourite in the fore-castle, and afterwards throughout the
Revolutionary Navy. One verse, of which, alas! we have not the tune, is
as follows:-
"SONG OF THE RANGER
"Carry the News to London
"So now we had him hard
and fast,
Bourgoyne laid down his Arms at Last,
And that is why we brave the blast,
To carry the news to London
Heigh-ho! carr—y the News
Go! Carry the News to London.
Tell old King George he's undone!
Heigh-ho! car—r—y the News!"
A truly rollicking chorus, startling the
fishes from their after-dinner slumbers, as the Ranger cut through the
water, bent on her mission, "To Carry the News to London."
There was only one accident, Solomon
Hutchings, who had his leg broken by a "spar getting adrift." There was
not a soul on the sick list throughout the voyage, and the Captain
concluded his report with the information: "I shall have the honour of
calling your attention more particularly to the excellent behaviour of
all my officers and men in a later report. For the present suffice to
say, that without exception their conduct left nothing to be desired."
The "terrific voyage" ended when the
Ranger dropped anchor in the Loire, below Nantes, at sunset, on the 2nd
of December, 1777, and the ambitious Scotchman felt that at last the
nebulous dreams of years were about to materialise. |
