And Captain John made haste to proceed to Paris, placing the dispatches in the hands of Dr. Franklin early upon the fifth day of December,—travelling two hundred and twenty miles in sixty hours. He returned to his ship about the middle of the month, to find that several of the crew were mutinous.
“See here, Captain,” said one—a seaman from Portsmouth, New Hampshire—“Me and my pals enlisted at home after readin’ a hand-bill which said that we wuz to get $40.00 apiece extra, for this cruise. Now, your young Lieutenant tells us that the reg’lations of Congress say that we are to only get th’ reg’lar salary allotted by those old pals, who make our laws. We came with you thinkin’ that we wuz ter git this money, and, by gum, we intend to git it!”
“Calm yourself, my good fellow,” said Jones soothingly. “If the hand-bill said that you were to receive $40.00 you shall have it. You shall get this sum even if I have to pay it myself.”
And this he did.
“I would not deceive any man who has entered or may enter, to serve in my command,” remarked John Paul Jones. “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 a proof of their good opinion of me, which I value so highly, that I cannot permit it to be dampened in the least degree, by misunderstanding, or failure to perform engagements. I wish all my men to be happy and contented. The conditions of the hand-bills will be strictly complied with.”
Accordingly he disbursed one hundred and forty-seven guineas (about $800.00) out of his own pocket, in making good the terms of the hand-bill. Is it any wonder that the gallant seaman was popular with his followers?
But the Ranger lay at Brest—eager for action—her light sails furled; her spars shining with new varnish; her polished guns winking in the rays of the sun.
“Come, my Hearties!” cried Captain Jones on April the 10th, “we’ll hie us out to the west coast of Ireland and see if our new ship cannot make a good name for herself.”
Sails were hoisted upon the staunch, little vessel. Her bow was turned toward the ocean—and—with the new flag of the infant republic fluttering from her masts, the Ranger went forth for battle, for plunder, and for glory. She was to get a little of each.
Arriving off the coast of Cumberland, and, learning from fishermen decoyed on board, that there was a large amount of shipping in the harbor of Whitehaven, with no warship of superior force in the neighborhood to protect it, the bold American skipper resolved to make a dash into this quiet cove, with a view of destroying the ships there in port. The British authorities had no suspicion of his presence in the Irish Sea.