“Precisely! That is what I surmised! To a quick seaman like yourself, Mr. Starbuck, a word will do. I don’t want her sunk, d’ye see! I want to bring her into France as an object-lesson, and show the Frenchmen what Americans can do. Under the circumstances, Mr. Starbnck, I shall be obliged if you let her hull alone. It will take Mr. Hitchburn, our carpenter, a week as it is “—this comes off reproachfully—“to stop the holes you’ve already made. And so, Mr. Starbnck, from now on comb her decks and cut her up in the spars as much as ever you like; but please keep off her hull.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” says the master-gunner, saluting. Then: “Pass the word that we’re to leave her hull alone. Cap’n has set his heart on catching her alive.”
With that the plan of attack finds reversal, the Ranger firing as she comes up to port and when only a narrow streak of the Drake’s starboard beam is visible above the waves.
Captain Paul Jones remains among the sailors, canvassing in a gratified way the results of this change. While thus engaged, port-fire Anthony Jeremiah grins up at him, meanwhile blowing his match to keep it lighted.
“You enjoy yourself, I see, Jerry,” remarks Captain Paul Jones, who, as observed, is never so affable as when guns are crashing, blood is flowing, and splinters flying.
“Me like to hear the big guns talk, Captain,” responds the Indian. “It gives Jerry a good heart.”
Captain Paul Jones again swings his glass on the Drake. He is just in time to see her fore and main topsail-yards come down onto the caps by the run. The last broadside does that. In an instant, he is running aft.
“Down with your helm, Mr. Sargent!” he roars. “Pull her down for every ounce that’s in you, man!”
Quartermaster Sargent, thus encouraged, climbs the wheel like a squirrel; the Ranger’s topsails shiver; then, yielding to her helm, she slowly luffs across the helpless stern of the Drake.
“Aboard with those sta’board tacks!” shouts Captain Paul Jones. Then, turning again to the wheelman: “Steady, Mr. Sargent; keep her full!”