With John Paul Jones

Expresses dashed about and signal fires burned along the coast from one end of England to the other. Fear fell upon the folk of every commercial port and fishing hamlet. Invasion had been the very last thing that the British had thought possible; no enemy had set his foot upon their soil before in the memory of living man; and now that the despised Americans had accomplished the feat, a wave of mingled fear and fury swept through the “tight little isle.”

The British had thought it very right and proper to burn and destroy along the American coast; they considered it a rather quick and effective method of suppressing the rebellious subjects of the king.

But when the youthful republic sent this daring sailor, Paul Jones, across the sea and through him applied the torch to British property and in a British harbor, the thing seemed vastly different. Pirate was the mildest term they could find for the chief of the Ranger; and indeed so they affect to regard him to this day.

Parliament was appealed to by the populace, and it was implored to have armed vessels sent out after the daring Yankee, and to scour the seas until he was either taken or sunk.

News of all this reached John Paul Jones through vessels that he captured in the Irish Channel; but he only laughed and glanced proudly about at his trim, swift, well-armed ship.

“It is about time that our friend the Lascar was due at St. Mary’s Isle,” said he to Ethan, one evening as they sat in the cabin talking over the secret dispatch and its probable fate. “I am thinking of heading for there and giving you a chance to see.”

“Do,” said the lad eagerly. “Think what the loss of this paper might mean to our country. We should use every means in our power to recover it; and St. Mary’s Isle offers at least a possibility.”

“What you say is very true,” said the commander gravely. “But I have still another reason for making this landing.”

“Indeed.”

“From time to time the people of the United States have heard of the dreadful treatment meted out to American prisoners of war in the British hulks and jails; but in spite of the protests of Congress, nothing has been done by the English king to alter this state of affairs.”

“It is believed to be growing constantly worse.”

“The only hope of relief to our imprisoned countrymen,” said Paul Jones, “lies in our ability to effect a system of exchange.”

“But this has been tried many times before,” said Ethan. “I copied the papers for Mr. Jefferson upon one occasion. But nothing ever came of it.”

“The reason of that is very clear. We have had no prominent captives. Let us once get a man of great name into our power and we can compel the beginning of such a system.”

“That seems very likely,” said the lad.

“Here is the Earl of Selkirk, one of England’s most exalted personages. If we had him in our power it would not be many months before the treatment of American prisoners would change. And when we land upon St. Mary’s Isle, the Lascar, Siki, will not be the only person sought; if it is possible to do so, I shall leave there with the earl in this cabin a prisoner and hostage.”

Upon the beautiful headland at the mouth of the River Dee, the noble Earl of Selkirk had a magnificent seat. It was not long before the Ranger came in sight of this; the news of what the commander had resolved to do had leaked out and the entire ship hummed with it.

The sloop-of-war ran in close and the boatswain’s call rang through her. Two boats’ crews, armed with cutlass and pistol, were called away, under the command of Captain Jones and Lieutenants Simpson and Hall. An old, white-haired man met them as the bows of the boats ran up upon the sand; and he bowed low, hat in hand.

“Welcome, sir,” said he, the tremble of age in his voice. “The king’s officers are always welcome. It has been many months since we have been favored by a visit from a ship of his Majesty’s navy.”

The old man had the appearance of a steward or an upper servant of some sort; the Ranger flew no flag and he mistook her for a king’s ship. Captain Jones smiled kindly upon the old fellow.

“Thank you for your kind words,” said he. “I only hope that the earl will be equally glad to see us.”

“The earl, sir, would be pleased, I know. But, ah,” and the ancient shook his white head sorrowfully, “he has been called away.”

“Called away!” The captain exchanged glances with Ethan and his officers, while the boats’ crews muttered their disappointment.

“Yes, sir,” said the old servant. “He has been a-gone for some time now. Do you know, sir,” and he came nearer to John Paul Jones and lowered his voice, “I can’t abide these blackamoors.”

Ethan Carlyle started; and the commander said quickly:

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean the man who haunted the grounds, sir, for days. He wanted to see the earl; and when, at last, he did see him, the earl went away to London or some other place. No, sir, I don’t like these blackamoors.”

“Too late,” said Ethan Carlyle, with a great feeling of weight at his heart.

“It would seem that we are to be disappointed in both quests,” said the captain, in a low tone. “The earl is gone and he has taken the paper with him. Perhaps it is even now in the hands of the British ministers.”

Then he turned to Simpson and Hall. “We may as well return to the ship. There seems to be nothing for us here.”

“There is the hall,” said Simpson, pointing toward the great white building whose top appeared above the trees. “I have no doubt but what there is rich plunder there.”

“Hah!” ejaculated Paul Jones, staring into the lieutenant’s sullen face through his puckered eyelids.

“Simpson is right,” said Hall. “We have taken this risk, and should not be asked to go back to the ship empty handed.”

“Who is it at the hall?” asked Jones of the old servant.

“Only the countess, sir,” replied the bewildered old man.

“Do you hear?” and the Ranger’s commander wheeled upon his officers with stormy eyes. “There is only a helpless woman then at the house. Are my ship’s company to turn buccaneers, indeed?”

“It is all very well for you to hold your high notions,” said Lieutenant Simpson with something like a sneer, “but the officers of the Ranger sailed in her for profit. And as here is an excellent chance for booty, I am for seizing it.”

“If you sail for glory, Captain Jones,” said Hall, “very well. Patriotism is a very good thing; but plunder is not so bad.”

There was a murmur of assent from the boats’ crews; the continued insubordination of these two officers during the voyage had spoiled the men of the Ranger; there had been times when only the utmost firmness had prevented a mutiny.

“The cruise of the Ranger has not been as fortunate as we could wish,” remarked Simpson, “and now that this little chance for plunder presents itself we have no desire to see it slip by.”

“Nor the crew either,” said Hall, meaningly. And the men shot frowning glances at their captain.

The latter’s face was white with anger and his hand clutched the pistol in his belt. Ethan and Longsword stepped to his side with weapons ready in case of need; the commander gave them a quick look of thanks. But a moment had served to change his mind. To shoot down Simpson and Hall would only bring on a bloody and unnecessary encounter, and the loss of the Ranger to the cause of freedom might result. So the captain’s hand dropped away from his pistol butt, and he said in an icy voice:

“You do this thing against my will. I want that understood; and both of you will answer for it before a naval board.”

“If you are so very particular about the matter,” said Simpson, “why, when the booty is appraised by the prize court, you can buy it in and return it to the noble earl if you so desire.”

“I thank you for the suggestion,” said the captain, coldly, “and I will act upon it.”

They stared at him in silence for a moment; then Hall asked:

“Have we then your permission to proceed, sir?”

“You have both announced your determination to do as you like,” said Paul Jones, bitterly, “and I will raise no hand to prevent you carrying out your plans. But the responsibility shall be your own; I will have no hand in the affair.”

Without another word, the mutinous officers ordered the men to advance; and away they went toward the hall, their side arms clanking and their sullen eyes avoiding the glance of their angry commander.

History relates how they found the countess in the hall, and surrounded it; how they demanded the plate chest, and how it was given up to them by the lady almost without protest. Ethan and Longsword had followed the party, and with face scarlet with shame the former watched the seamen bear off the chest.

“It seems, Longsword,” said the lad, his eyes smoldering with rage, “that we have turned thieves.”

“Yes, faith, and nasty, low-down thieves in the bargain,” agreed the Irish dragoon.

“Look at the captain,” said Ethan, pointing to the slight figure of the Ranger’s young commander as he paced up and down beneath the trees, with bent head and hands clasped behind him.

There was a set, hard look upon his face as he raised it, and saw the men returning with their plunder. But he said not a word, and at once proceeded to make ready for their return to the Ranger.

Ethan and Longsword were some distance behind the party; the shame that they felt in this act of knavery would not permit them to mingle with the others; and as they were passing a high and beautifully trimmed hedge, the first man clambered into one of the boats.

“Make haste,” said Longsword, “we shall be left behind.”

They broke into a trot; but hardly had they taken a half dozen steps at the increased pace, when a score of men leaped over or burst through the hedge and fell upon them. Rough hands were clapped upon their mouths; they struggled desperately, but were borne to the ground and pinned there by strong arms. It took some little time to accomplish this, and when at last they were overcome the Ranger’s boats were well upon their way, the men bending strongly to their oars.