Commodore Paul Jones

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

"Were I, Paul Jones, dear maid, 'the king of sea,' I find such merit in thy virgin song,
A coral crown with bays I'd give to thee,
A car which on the waves should smoothly glide along;
The Nereides all about thy side should wait,
And gladly sing in triumph of thy state,
'Vivat! vivat! the happy virgin Muse!
Of liberty the friend, who tyrant power pursues!'

"Or, happier lot! Were fair Columbia free
From British tyranny, and youth still mine,
I'd tell a tender tale to one like thee
With artless looks and breast as pure as thine.
If she approved my flame, distrust apart,
Like faithful turtles, we'd have but one heart;
Together, then, we'd tune the silver lyre,
As love or sacred freedom should our lays inspire.

"But since, alas! the rage of war prevails,
And cruel Britons desolate our land,
For freedom still I spread my willing sails,
My unsheath'd sword my injured country shall command.
Go on, bright maid! the Muses all attend
Genius like thine, and wish to be its friend.
Trust me, although conveyed through this poor shift,
My New Year's thoughts are grateful for thy gift."

I have read worse poetry than this, also better, but it is very creditable to the sailor. If the reader has a low opinion of it, let him essay some verse-writing himself.[^[33]]

While at Corunna, the ship was careened and her bottom scraped as far as possible without docking her, and, having procured an anchor to take the place of the two lost in the Texel, Jones prepared to set forth once more. The 28th of January was fixed for his departure, but the discontent among the crew reached such a pitch that they positively refused to weigh anchor unless they received at least a portion of their pay or prize money. Nothing had been paid them from the time the ships had been put in commission until they reached the Texel. There Jones had received from Amsterdam a small sum of money, from which he advanced five ducats to each of the officers and one to each of the men. The amount, compared to their dues and needs, was so insignificant that many of the men threw the money into the sea in disgust--a very foolish but extremely sailorlike action.

There were many patriotic men on these ships who merit the approbation and deserve the gratitude of their country. They had shown, especially those belonging to the Richard, a most desperate courage in most trying scenes. They had performed services upon which no monetary value could be placed, and had subjected themselves to dangers which no mere pecuniary consideration could have tempted them to face. It may at first, therefore, seem surprising that they should have so resolutely demanded their pay and prize money, even to the extent of mutinying for it; but it is a common experience that men who will freely offer themselves for the most dangerous undertakings, and who really are actuated by the strongest kind of patriotism, will quarrel and rebel, and even fight, for the petty amounts promised them by way of wages, which in themselves neither could tempt them to, nor repay them for, the sacrifices they had cheerfully undergone. Frankly, I have the greatest sympathy with the point of view of the unpaid soldiers or sailors of the past, and I quite understand their demands and complaints under such circumstances.

Perhaps there is an association of ideas between fighting for the liberties of one's country and demanding one's dues. Both are a revolt against injustice and oppression. The mind of the common sailor, especially of that day, was not calculated to draw nice distinctions, and he could see little difference between fighting for liberty and demanding that the country whose independence he periled his life to establish should show the small appreciation of his devotion involved in paying his scanty wages and not withholding his lawful prize money. Jones struggled for rank, station, reputation, opportunity; these men could aspire to no higher station than they already filled, and their corresponding effort was for the money justly due them.

The Richard's men had lost practically everything except the clothes they stood in when their ship went down, and their personal needs were necessarily very great. The original crew of the Alliance were under the impression that Jones had reserved from the small sum he had received at Amsterdam a considerable portion for himself. There is not the slightest evidence to warrant this supposition. The commodore was the most prodigal and generous of men, and his whole career evidences his entire willingness to devote his own personal property to the welfare and wages of his men. He finally persuaded the crew to get under way by promising to run direct to L'Orient, where he hoped they would undoubtedly receive their prize money. With this understanding the crew consented to work the ship to that point, and their departure was accordingly taken on the 28th.

When the vessel was fairly at sea, however, Jones summoned the officers to the cabin and proposed that they should cruise two or three weeks in those waters before making their promised port. I am afraid that the commodore allowed the possibility of taking some valuable prizes and perhaps another British frigate to incline him to break his promise to his men. His interview in his cabin with his officers was an interesting one. With all the eloquence of which he was a master--and he was able to speak convincingly and well on congenial subjects--he placed before them the possibilities presented, appealed to their patriotism, their love of fame, and as a last resort pointed out the further monetary advantage of another rich prize--Iago's argument! If they were successful in taking another frigate they would shed still greater luster upon their names, and put money in their pockets. The officers, however, bluntly refused to be persuaded. They emphasized the mutinous and discontented state of the crews, who had only sailed under Jones' positive promise to take them immediately to L'Orient; pointed out that many of the men had not proper clothing with which to endure the severe winter weather, and that they themselves were in a destitute condition.

Their natural reluctance to fall in with his plans infuriated Jones. Rising from the chair upon which he had been sitting, with an emphatic stamp of his foot he dismissed them with a sneering contempt in the following words: