In July, 1675, Jean Bart was married, but he did not remain long on shore. Three weeks after this auspicious event he once more put to sea and captured a number of Dutch fishing boats, which he allowed the captains to ransom for large sums of money.
This was a very convenient arrangement, for it saved him the trouble of putting part of his own crew on board and sending the boats to port. But the owners of La Royale, upon which he sailed, did not care for his methods of procedure.
“You cannot do this in future!” said they. “And you must forfeit half of what you took to us!”
Jean Bart obeyed, but he was very angry. It is even said that he uttered “a round seaman’s oath.”
So successful was he, in fact, that he was given a much larger vessel in 1676. This was a frigate—the Palme—with twenty-four guns and a crew of one hundred and fifty men. Sailing into the North Sea with two small French gun-boats, he soon fell in with three Dutch privateers and eight armed whaling vessels. He attacked, and the battle raged for three long, bloody hours.
When the smoke and the fumes of sulphur burned away, Bart had boarded the largest privateer, while his two consorts had taken the eight whalers. The other Dutch privateers found it too hot for their liking and scudded for the coast, firing their stern-guns derisively as they disappeared. It was a great victory, and again the French coast rung with salvos for Jean Bart, while the old sea-dogs shrugged their shoulders, saying:
“Ah! Ha! Did we not tell you that Dunkirk bred men of bone and marrow. Ah! Ha!”
But Jean Bart was not happy.
“Would that I could meet a foe of my own force,” he used to say. “Either a man-of-war or a privateer, I don’t care which. I want to try it on with one of my own size and strength.”
His wish was soon to be gratified.