“Captain Paul,” asked the Judge, “are you, in conscience, satisfied that you used no more force than was necessary to preserve discipline on your ship?”
“May it please the most Honorable Court, Sir,” answered the doughty seaman, “it became imperative to strike the mutinous sailor, Maxwell. Whenever it becomes necessary for a commanding officer to hit a seaman, it is also necessary to strike with a weapon. I may say that the necessity to strike carries with it the necessity to kill, or to completely disable the mutineer. I had two brace of loaded pistols in my belt, and could easily have shot him. I struck with a belaying pin in preference, because I hoped that I might subdue him without killing him. But the result proved otherwise. I trust that the Honorable Court and the jury will take due account of the fact that, though amply provided with pistols throwing ounce balls, necessarily fatal weapons, I used a belaying pin, which, though dangerous, is not necessarily a fatal weapon.”
The judge smiled and Captain Paul was acquitted.
The famous Lord Nelson once said: “A naval officer, unlike a military commander, can have no fixed plans. He must always be ready for the chance. It may come to-morrow, or next week, or next year, or never; but he must be always ready!” Nunquam non Paratus. (Never unprepared.)
Paul Jones kept a copy of this maxim in his head. He was always in training; always on the qui vive; always prepared. And—because he was always prepared—he accomplished what would seem to be the impossible.
Shortly placed in command of a sloop-of-war, the Alfred (one of the four vessels which constituted the American Navy), Lieutenant Jones assisted in an expedition against Fort Nassau, New Providence Island, in the Bahamas, which was a complete and absolute failure. On the way home, and when passing the end of Long Island, his boat was chased by the twenty-gun sloop-of-war Glasgow. The long shot kicked up a lot of spray around the fleet American vessel, but it was of no use. Jones got away and sailed into Newport Harbor, Rhode Island, with sails full of holes and stern-posts peppered with lead. But he was created a Captain; placed in command of the Providence—sloop-of-war, fourteen guns and one hundred and seven men—and soon harried the seas in search of fighting and adventure. With him were two faithful negro boys—Cato and Scipio—who followed him through the many vicissitudes of the Revolutionary War.
The seas traversed by the Providence were full of English cruisers—superior in size to the saucy American—but inferior in alertness and resources of her commander and her crew. She captured sixteen vessels—of which eight were sent to port and eight were destroyed at sea. Twice she was chased by British frigates, and, on one of these occasions, narrowly escaped capture.
As the little sloop was running into one of the many harbors of the coast, a fast-sailing frigate bore down upon her from the starboard quarter.
Whang!
Her bow-guns spoke and said “Heave to!”