CHAPTER XIV
A Surprise for the Juno
The Ranger, a new and swift-sailing ship, and going free also, rapidly edged down upon the slow moving convoy on the wind. The frigate, it was noticed, was several miles ahead in the van; the other ships were carelessly strung out in a long line, probably not suspecting the existence of any possible enemy in those waters. The sloop of war appeared to be among the rear ships, while the nearest vessel to the Ranger was a large schooner, whose superior sailing qualities had permitted her to reach several miles to windward of the square-rigged ships; she appeared to be light in ballast also. All of the convoy showed lights. The Ranger, on the contrary, was as dark as the night, not even the battle lanterns being lighted. She rapidly overhauled the schooner, and almost before her careless people were aware of it, she was alongside.
"Schooner ahoy!" called out the captain of the ship, standing on the rail, trumpet in hand.
"Ahoy, there!" came back from the schooner; "what ship is that?"
"His Britannic majesty's sloop of war Southampton, Captain Sir James Yeo. I have a message from the admiral for this convoy, which we have been expecting. Send a boat aboard."
"Ay, ay, sir. Will you heave to for us?"
"Yes, swing the main-yard there, Mr. Seymour, and heave to."
In a few moments the splash of oars was heard, and a small boat drew out of the darkness to the starboard gangway of the Ranger. A man stood up in the stern sheets, and seizing the man ropes thrown to him climbed up on the deck.
"Ah, Sir James," he commenced, taking off his hat, "how do you do? How dark you are! Why, what's all this?" he exclaimed in surprise and terror, as he made out the strange uniforms in the dim light. He hesitated a moment, and then stepped back hastily to the gangway, lifting his hand.
"Seize him," cried a stern voice, "shoot him if he makes a sound."
The captain of the unlucky schooner was soon dragged, struggling and astonished, to the break of the poop.
"Oh, Sir James, what is the meaning of this outrage, sir, on a British ship-master? I shall report—"
"Silence, sir, this is the American Continental ship Ranger, and you are a prisoner," replied the same voice. "Answer my questions now at once; your life depends on it. What are these ships to leeward?"
"Sixteen merchantmen from London, to Halifax, under convoy of two men-of-war, sir."
"And what are they?"
"The Acasta, thirty-six, and the Juno, twenty-two, sir."
"Very good; is the transport Mellish among them?"
The man made no reply.
"Answer me."
"Ye—yes, sir."
"Which is she?"
"Oh, sir, I can't tell you that, sir; she is the most valuable ship of them all," he said incautiously.
"You have got to tell me, my man, if you ever want to see daylight again; which is she?"
"No, sir, I can't tell you," he replied obstinately.
"Put the muzzle of your pistol to his forehead, Williams, and if he does not answer by the time I count ten, pull the trigger. One, two, three, four—"
"Mercy, mercy," cried the frightened skipper, as he felt the cold barrel of the pistol pressed against his temple.
"Eight, nine—" went on the voice in the darkness, imperturbably.
"I'll tell, I'll tell."
"Ah, I thought so; which one is she?"
"The last one, sir."
"And the Juno?"
"The fourth from the rear; the frigate 's the first one, sir," he volunteered. "Oh, don't kill me, gentlemen."
"Have you told me the truth, sirrah? Williams, keep your pistol there."
"Oh, sir, yes, so help me; oh, gentlemen, for God's sake don't murder me. I've a wife and—"
"Peace, you fool! We won't hurt you if you 've told the truth; you shall even be released presently and have your schooner again—we don't want her; but if you have lied to me, you shall hang from that yard-arm in the morning, as sure as my name is John Paul Jones."
"O Lord!" said the now thoroughly frightened man, looking up and meeting the gaze of two eyes which gleamed in the dim light from the deck above him, "I 've told you the truth, sir."
"Very well. Go call your boat's crew on deck. Stand by to capture them as soon as they reach the gangway, some of you, then stow them all below; let their boat tow astern. And when that's done, you, sir, hail your schooner and tell her to heave to until your return. Say just what I tell you to and nothing more—the pistol at your head is loaded still. Watch him carefully, men, and then send him below with the rest. Fill away again, Mr. Seymour."
The ponderous yards were swung, and the Ranger soon gathered way again and rapidly overhauled the last of the fleet. The first trick had worked so well that it was worth trying again. As soon as she drew near the doomed ship, she showed lights like those of the frigate and sloop of war. Ranging alongside the weather quarter of the transport, the captain again hailed,—
"Ship ahoy!"
"Ahoy, what ship is that?"
Again the same deluding reply,—
"His Britannic majesty's sloop of war Southampton, Captain Sir James
Yeo. What ship is that?"
"The transport Mellish."
"Very well, you are the one we want. I have a message for you. The
Yankees are about, and the admiral has sent us to look up the convoy.
Where is the Acasta?"
"In the van, Sir James, about two leagues ahead; the corvette is about a mile forward there, sir."
"Very good. Heave to and send a boat aboard and get your orders. Look sharp now, I must speak the corvette and the frigate as well."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the Englishman, as his mainyard was promptly swung.
Immediately the Ranger was hove to as well, and on her weather side, which was that away from the transport, two well-manned boats, their crews heavily armed, one commanded by Seymour, who had Talbot with him, and the other by Philip Wilton, accompanied by Bentley, had been silently lowered into the water, and were pulling around the Ranger with muffled oars; making a large detour not only to avoid the boat of the captain of the Mellish, but also to enable one of them to approach the unsuspecting ship on the lee side. The night was pitch dark, and the plan was carried out exactly as anticipated. The utterly unsuspecting captain of the Mellish was seized as he came on deck and nearly choked to death before he could make an outcry, then sent below with the rest; his boat's crew were tempted on deck also by an invitation to partake of unlimited grog, and treated in the same way, and the two boats of the Ranger reached the Mellish undiscovered. The watch on the deck of the transport, diminished by the absence of the boat's crew, were overwhelmed by the rush of armed men, from both sides of the ship, and after a few shots from two or three men on the quarter-deck, some yelling and screaming, and a brief scuffle, in which one man of the Mellish was killed, the ship was mastered. The hatches were at once secured, before the watch below scarcely knew of the occurrence. A company of soldiers, about seventy-five in number, of the Seaforth Highlanders, found themselves prisoners ere they awakened, the only resistance having come from the mate and two or three of their officers, who had not yet turned in.
"Have you got her, Mr. Seymour?" hailed the Ranger.
"Yes, sir."
"What is she?"
"She 's the Mellish right enough, sir."
"Good. Anybody hurt?"
"One of the enemy killed, sir; all of ours are all right."
"What's her crew?"
"Fifteen men, they say, and seventy-five soldiers. We have the hatches battened down, and I think with the men we have, we can manage her all right."
"Very well, sir. I congratulate you. I am sending the second cutter off to you with the men's dunnage and your boxes. You have your orders. Present my compliments to General Washington, with that ship as a Christmas present, if you bring her in. God grant you get in safely. Good-by. Better put out that light; we will take your place in the fleet, and see what happens."
"Good-by, sir," cried the young lieutenant; "a prosperous cruise to you."
In a moment the boat from the Ranger was alongside, the bags and boxes were speedily shifted, and the cutter, with the other two boats in tow, dropped back to the Ranger, which by a shift of the helm had drawn much nearer. Then the Mellish filled away, and presently wearing round on her heel went off before the wind, and, all her lights having been extinguished, faded speedily away in the darkness. The boats were hoisted on the Ranger, she braced up on the port tack, and took the place vacated by the Mellish. But these things had not happened without attracting some attention.
The captain of the vessel next ahead of the Mellish had heard the pistol shots and shouting. Luffing up into the wind to check his own headway, he made out a second ship in the darkness alongside his next astern. In doubt as to what was happening, but certain that something was wrong, he acted promptly, and caused a blue light to be burned on his forecastle; this was the agreed signal of danger, and it immediately awakened the unsuspecting fleet into action. Several of the ships at different intervals in the long line repeated the signal, which was finally answered by the frigate, hull down ahead. The corvette, a half mile away perhaps, responded immediately, and wearing short round came to on the other tack, and headed for the last of the line, beating to quarters the while.
A less audacious man might have thought that he had done enough in cutting out with so little loss so valuable a transport from under the guns of two ships of war, either of greater force than his own, and therefore would have taken advantage of the night to effect his own escape. But this would not have suited the daring nature of Captain Jones, and he resolved to await the advent of the sloop of war, trusting that the advantage of a surprise might compensate for the great difference in the batteries of the two ships. Besides the natural desire to fight the enemy, there was a method in the apparent madness. If he could successfully disable the sloop before the arrival of the frigate, he would ensure the escape of the captured Mellish, for the sloop would be in no condition to pursue, and the frigate could not safely leave her convoy. So with rather a mixture of ideas, he trusted to the God of battles and the justice of his cause, and also to the darkness and his own mother-wit and great skill in seamanship, to make his own escape after the battle, resolutely putting out of his head the fact that the loss of a spar or two would in all probability result in the capture of his own ship. To sum it all up, Jones was not a man to decline battle when there was the slightest prospect of success, and the very audacity of the present situation enchanted him. All the lanterns of the Ranger were again extinguished, therefore, and the men sent quietly to their quarters, with the strictest injunctions not to make a sound or fire a gun until ordered, under pain of death. Every other preparation had long since been made for action, so the officers slipped on their boarding caps, loosened their swords in their sheaths, and looked to the priming of their pistols; then receiving their final commands, departed quietly to their several stations,—Simpson, now occupying the position of first lieutenant, vacated by Seymour, having charge of the batteries, and Wallingford, on deck with the captain, in command of the sail trimmers, who were clustered about the masts, the sloop being still heavily manned.
"Man the starboard battery," said the captain, in a low but distinct voice; "men, we 've got our work cut out for us to-night. No cheering until the first shot is fired, and no firing till I give the order, and then, all together, give it to them. Do you understand?"
A chorus of subdued "Ay, ays" indicated that the orders were heard.
"Mr. Wallingford, do you stand ready to back the maintopsail when she is alongside, though if she attempts to pass in front of us we 'll up helm and take her on the port side. Two of you after-guards go below and bring up the captain of the Mellish. Lively, we shall soon have the sloop down on us."
In a few moments the unfortunate British skipper was standing on the poop-deck beside Captain Jones.
"Now, my man, you are the master of the Mellish, are you not?"
"I was a few moments ago," replied the man, sullenly.
"Well, you are to stand right here, and answer hails just as I tell you; do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Williams, you and another hold him, and if he hesitates to answer, or answers other than I tell him, blow his brains out. Now we have nothing to do but wait. Keep her a good full at the helm there."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the veteran quartermaster, stationed at the con.
Meanwhile the Juno had come abeam of the vessel next ahead of the
Ranger, and the conversation which followed was as plainly audible in
the latter ship as had been the beating to quarters just after she wore.
"Providence ahoy there!" came from the Juno. "What is the matter?
What are you burning blue lights for?"
"Nothing is the matter with us, sir, but we heard pistol shots and cries on the Mellish astern, and thought we saw two ships instead of one. It's so beastly black to-night we could n't make out anything very well."
"All right; better keep off a little, out of the way. I will run down and see what's wrong."
The present course of the Juno would have brought her across the bows of the Ranger, but the ships were nearing so rapidly that a collision would have resulted, so the Juno was kept away a little, and soon ran down on the lee bow of the Ranger. The two ships were thus placed side by side, the Ranger on the port tack having the advantage of the weather gauge of the Juno, which had the wind free,—an advantage the captain of the English ship would never have yielded without an effort, had he imagined the character of the ship opposite him. The battle lanterns of the Juno were lighted, the ports triced up, and she presented a brilliant picture of a gallant ship ready for action. The Ranger, black as the night and silent as death, could barely be discerned in dim outline from the Juno.
"Mellish ahoy."
"Ahoy, the Juno."
"What's wrong on board of you?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Pistol shots and screams were heard by the ship ahead; but who hails—where is Captain Brent?"
"Answer him," hissed Jones, in the ear of the British captain; "tell him there were some drunken soldiers of the Highlanders in a row. Speak out, man," he continued threateningly.
"Why don't you answer?" came from the Juno. "I shall send a boat aboard. Call away the first cutter," the voice continued. But the British seaman on the Ranger's deck was made of sterner stuff than the other. By a violent and unexpected movement he wrenched his arm free from the grasp of one of the men, struck the other heavily in the chest, and before any one could seize him he leaped upon the rail, shouting loudly, "Treachery! You are betrayed. This is a Yankee pirate." Then he sprang into the water between the two ships. Williams raised his pistol.
"Let him go," cried Jones, "he is a brave fellow;" then lifting his powerful voice he shouted, "This is the American Continental ship Ranger. Stand by!"—the port shutters dropped or were pulled up with a crash, a moment's hasty aim was taken at the brilliantly lighted ship full abeam.—"Fire! Let them have it, men," he cried in a voice of thunder. Instantly the black side of the Ranger gave forth a sheet of flame, and the startling roar of the full broadside in the quiet night was followed by shrieks and cries and the crashing of woodwork, which told that the shots had taken effect. Three hearty British cheers rang out, however, in reply, and the broadside was promptly returned, but with nothing like the effect of that from the Ranger, for the first blow counts for as much at sea as in any other contest.
The next moment the maintopsail of the Juno was gallantly laid to the mast, that of the Ranger following suit, and the two ships, side by side, at half pistol-shot distance, continued the dreadful combat, both crews being encouraged and stimulated by their captains and other officers. A battle lantern or two, which had been hastily lighted here and there, shed a dim uncertain light over the decks of the Ranger. The men, half naked, covered with sweat and dust and powder stains, or splashed with blood from some more unfortunate comrade, some with heads tied up, fighting though wounded, served the guns. Several brave fellows were arranged on the weather side of the deck, dead, their battles ended; one or two seriously wounded men were lying groaning by the hatchway, waiting their turn to be carried below to the cockpit to be committed to the rough surgery of the period, while the fleet-footed powder boys were running to and fro from the different guns with their charges, leaping over the wounded and dying with indifference. The continuous roar of the artillery, for the guns were served with that steady, rapid precision for which the American seamen soon became famous, the crackling of musketry, from the men in the tops, with the yells and cheers and curses and groans of the maddened men, completed a scene which suggested a bit of hell.
"This is warm work, Wallingford," said the captain, coolly, though his eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Do we gain any advantage?"
"I think so; their fire does not seem to be so heavy. Does it not slacken a little, sir?"
"Ay, I think so too. I trust our sticks hold."
"I have not had any serious damage reported so far, sir."
"Well, we must end it soon, or that frigate will be down on us; in half an hour at most, I should say. Ha! what was that?" he said, as a loud crash from the Juno interrupted him.
"Their maintopmast 's gone by the board, hurrah!" shouted Wallingford, looking toward the ship, after springing on the rail, from whence a moment later he fell back dead, with a bullet in his breast.
"Poor fellow!" murmured Jones, and then called out, "Give it to them, lads, they have lost their maintopmast." A cheer was the answer. But the matter must be ended at once.
"Johnson," said Jones, to the young midshipman by his side, "run forward and have the main-yard hauled; give her a good full, quartermaster," he said to the veteran seaman at the helm, and then watched the water over the side to see when she gathered headway through it. "Now! Hard up with the helm! Flatten in the head sheets! Round in the weather braces! Cease firing, and load all!"
The ship gathered way, forged ahead slowly, fell off when the helm was put up, and in a trice was standing across the stern of the Juno, which endeavored to meet the manoeuvre as soon as it was seen; but, owing to the loss of the jib and maintopsail and the fouling of the gear, she did not answer the helm rapidly enough to escape the threatening danger.
"Stand by to rake her! Ready! Fire! Stand by to board!"
The effect of this raking broadside delivered at short range was awful; the whole stern of the Juno was beaten in, and the deadly projectiles had free range the full length of the devoted ship, which reeled and trembled under the terrible shock. A moment of silence followed, broken by shrieks and groans and a few feeble cheers from some undaunted spirits. Then the Ranger, still falling off, a rank sheer of the helm brought her beam against the stern of the Juno, when eager hands hove the grapnels which bound the two ships together.
"Away, boarders!"
Certain of the men left their quarters at the guns, and cutlass and pistol in hand, led by Jones himself, swarmed over the rail and on the poop of the Juno. Two or three men were standing there among the dead and wounded men, half dazed by the sudden catastrophe, but they bravely sprang forward.
"Do you surrender?" cried Jones.
"No, you damned rebel!" answered the foremost, in the uniform of an officer, crossing swords with him gallantly; but in a moment the sword of the impetuous American beat down his guard and was buried in his breast. With a hollow groan, he fell dying on the deck of the ship he had so gallantly defended, while his men, borne back by the determined rush of the Rangers, after a feeble resistance, threw down their arms, crying, "Quarter, quarter!"
All this time the guns of that ship had been firing, one or two of them depressed by Simpson's orders so as to pierce the hull below the water-line, the rest sending their heavy shot ripping and tearing through the length of the Juno, which was unable to bring a single gun to bear in reply.
"Do you strike?" called Jones, from the break of the poop, his men massed behind him for a rush through the gangways, to one or two of the officers who were stationed there.
"Yes, yes, God help us," cried a wounded officer; "what else can we do?"
"Where's your captain?"
"Dead, sir," answered one of the seamen who had been seized by the boarders. "Him you killed when you boarded."
"Poor fellow, he was a brave man, and fought his ship well."
"Captain, the frigate is bearing down upon us!" cried one of the
Ranger's men.
"Ay, ay. Well, gentlemen, we cannot take possession, so we will have to leave you to your consort," he said to the British officers. "Give the captain of the Acasta the compliments of Captain John Paul Jones, of the American Continental ship Ranger, and say that he will find me in the British Channel. Thank him for our entertainment to-night," he said, bowing courteously, and then—"Back to the ship, all you Rangers.—Let that man's sword alone, sirrah! He used it well, let it remain with him on his own ship; but first haul down and bring the Juno's flag with us."
The men hastily scrambled over the rails to their own ship, the grapnels were cut loose, and none too soon the ship slowly gathered way and slipped by the stern of the Juno, whose mizzenmast fell a moment after, and she lay rolling, a ghastly shattered hulk on the waters, fire breaking out forward.
The frigate, coming down rapidly on the starboard tack, luffed up into the wind, and fired a broadside at the rapidly disappearing Ranger, which, however, did no harm, and was only answered by a musket-shot in contempt, and then she ranged down beside her battered and shattered consort. As soon as she reached the side of the Juno she was hove to, and a boat was sent off at once. An officer stepped on board. He was horrified at the scene of carnage which presented itself. The ship aloft was a wreck, the decks were a perfect shambles, wounded and dying men lay around in every position. The masts were gone, the ship was full of shot-holes, the water was rushing and gurgling in through the shot-holes below the waterline, flames were breaking out forward.
"Where is Captain Burden?" cried the officer.
"Dead," replied the wounded first lieutenant, in a hollow voice.
"Did you strike?"
"Yes."
"What was the ship with which you fought?"
"The American ship Ranger, Captain John Paul Jones. He says he will see you in the English Channel. Oh, God, Lawless, isn't this awful? Three-fourths of ours are dead or wounded! The cursed rebel captured the Mellish, we ranged alongside at quarters; they got in the first broadside; the maintopmast went, then the jib; they fell off, raked us through the stern, boarded; Jones cut down Burden with his sword; we could not get a gun to bear, they were pounding through us. We could not keep the men at quarters, we struck; they took our flag too; then you came down, and he sheered off; then the mizzenmast went. I expect the fore will go next."
"What's his force? Was it a frigate?"
"I can answer that," said the brave master of the Mellish, who had gained the Juno and fought well in the fight; "she's a sloop of eighteen guns."
"Less than ours! We have twenty-two. Oh, Lawless, what a disgrace! I can't understand it. Our men did well. And she goes free, and look at us!"
"Ship is making water fast; we can't get at the fire forward either, sir," reported one of the Juno's officers.
"Good God, can't we save the ship?" queried Lieutenant Lawless, of the
Acasta.
"No, it will be as much as we can do to get off the wounded, I fear."
"Back," cried Lawless, turning to the cutter in which they had come, "to the Acasta, and tell her to send all her boats alongside; this ship is a perfect wreck. She must sink in a few minutes. We have hardly time to get the wounded off. Lively, bear a hand for your lives, men."
However, in spite of all that could be done by willing and able hands, some of the helpless men were still on board when the Juno pitched forward suddenly and then sank bow foremost into the dark waters, carrying many of her gallant defenders into the deep with her. Among them on the quarter-deck lay the body of the dead captain, the sword which the magnanimity of his conqueror had left to him lying by his side.
And this is war upon the sea!