The Story of John Paul Jones

by Chelsea Curtis Fraser

Paul Jones—as we shall now have to call him—found that he had inherited "3000 acres of prime land, bordering for twelve furlongs on the right bank of the Rappahannock, running back southward three miles, 1000 acres of which are cleared and under plough or grass, 2000 acres of which are strong first-growth timber; a grist-mill with flour-cloth and fans turned by water power; mansion, overseer's house, negro quarters, stables, tobacco houses, threshing-floor, river-wharf, one sloop of twenty tons, thirty negroes of all ages (eighteen adults), twenty horses and colts, eighty neat cattle and calves, sundry sheep and swine; and all necessary means of tilling the soil."

With the property came also old Duncan Macbean. This canny, tough old Scotsman Willie Jones had saved from the tomahawks of the Indians at the time of Braddock's rout. He had brought him home, nursed him until well of his wounds, and then made him overseer of the plantation. In this capacity Duncan had amply proved his efficiency. He had become greatly attached to the place, and in his will the master had requested that he be continued as overseer as long as he was physically and mentally capable.

Paul Jones sent the Betsy back to London under the command of his first-mate, with word to her owners that, for the present at least, he was relinquishing the attractions of the sea. He then settled down in earnest to the new life that had opened up before him.

As in everything he undertook, he waded into the duties confronting him with an interest keen and thorough. He was not afraid to ask questions of those whose experience warranted them knowing more than he about his new task, no matter how humble or high their stations. In this way he learned the tricks of the planter with surprising rapidity. It was not long before he saw the advisability of rotating his tobacco crops with sowings of maize, that the fertility of his fields might not be exhausted, and a number of neighboring planters who had never thought of such a thing before, followed suit.

There was not a horse on the plantation, nor in the county which could unseat him. So much was he liked by his slaves that they anticipated his every wish, it seemed. In the early day, before the sun had become intolerable, he rode over his broad acres at a leisurely pace, noting the crops, the black workers, the pickaninnies at play,—everything. Apparently nothing tending toward a betterment of the condition of his help and the acres they tilled seemed to escape him. A gentle bit of censure here, a pat on a woolly head there, a trinket in a child's outstretched dusky hand, and he would turn his horse's head in another direction.

The surrounding forests contained game in profusion; and the low sandy marshes around Urbana abounded in great flocks of snipe and other water-fowl. With old Duncan Macbean the young master often shouldered the fine Lancaster rifle left by his brother, stuck a brace of pistols in his belt, and spent a day in the wilds. No better shot than the old Scotsman could be found in the whole country. Although an old Indian wound had left him lame, this in no wise interfered with his wonderful skill with either pistol or rifle. He could shoot from either hand or either shoulder, from almost any position, and put a ball through a wild turkey's head at a hundred yards.

Paul Jones could scarcely credit the evidence of his eyes when he first saw old Duncan shoot, for he had never seen such accuracy before. An intense desire came over him to master firearms with equal skill. He imparted this wish to his overseer, and the consequence was that in the course of the next two years the old veteran taught him to handle the pistol and rifle with a deadliness which became the talk of the countryside.

However, the ability to shoot was really more a matter of necessity than an accomplishment in those days. Scattering bands of the Rappahannock Indians often stole down stream to the holdings of the Scotch-Irish planters along the tidewater shores, and when opportunity offered, ran off portions of their live stock, or even sent a wicked arrow through an unwary white man. In her scrolled coach, creaking and swaying on its great hinges and leather straps, milady never took her airings down the rough sandy roads without a guarding retinue of armed slaves and whites. Nor did men themselves venture forth in the fastnesses without their fingers playing about hammer and trigger, ever ready to throw up the former at the slightest suspicious sight or sound, ready to pull the latter when they became convinced that such a procedure was warranted.

Young Paul Jones enjoyed his new life to the utmost. The constant peril from the redskins, the exciting brushes which he and old Duncan Macbean had with some of them on different occasions, the thrilling hunts in the forest, all went to satisfy his active, adventure-loving nature. On the other hand, he had plenty of spare time in which to gratify his ambitions for study, for becoming a man of power in his own section as well as in the affairs of the new nation. He continued to study from books, perfected his knowledge of the French and Spanish languages, and even traveled over the Colonies quite extensively. He entertained lavishly at home. His gallantry and courtesy made him very popular.

In his trips away from home he met many prominent statesmen of the time, and renewed friendships with others whom he had previously met. Among the latter was Joseph Hewes, with whom he was unusually intimate. Other noted men of his acquaintance were Thomas Jefferson, Philip Livingston, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, the Lees, and Robert and Gouverneur Morris.