Naturally, his next command was a larger vessel—a brigantine, named La Royale, mounting ten guns, and his success continued unabated. He cruised in company with two other Dunkirk men, and made many captures, the most important being the Esperance, a States-General man-of-war, carrying 12 guns, by which he appears to have won great renown—though she was only overcome by the heavy odds against her, Bart having the assistance of at least one of his allies. However, there is no small merit in always contriving to outnumber the foe.
Having taken four months' leisure in order to get married, Jean Bart once more put out, in July 1675, and met with immediate success; and, capturing quite a number of fishing-vessels, he permitted the captains to ransom them for a handsome sum—a much more convenient arrangement, in many instances, than bringing a number of prizes into port; it was, however, forbidden, as liable to lead to great abuses, and Bart was deprived of half the proceeds and warned to be more careful in future—a warning to which he did not pay much heed. Ransoming was subsequently forbidden to British privateers, and other precautions against semi-piracy were instituted, more or less copied from the French, who were always in advance of us in their regulation of privateering.
So successful was Jean Bart in La Royale that early in 1676 he was given command of a much more important vessel—the Palme, of 24 guns, with a crew of 150 men—a regular frigate of those times. Again he was lucky in hunting in company, for he and his consorts were opposed to eight armed whalers and three privateers, which they fought for three hours, when Bart boarded and carried the largest, while his consorts secured the whalers, the two other privateers finding it too hot to remain.
Bart was by no means satisfied with these exploits. A genuine fighting man, he longed to be matched singly against a man-of-war or a privateer of fully his own force; and this wish was gratified on September 7th, 1676, when he fell in with a fleet of fishing-vessels, convoyed by the Neptune, a vessel carrying 32 guns. Bart sailed into the convoy, and, hoisting his colours, fired a gun for the enemy to bring to. Up went the Dutch colours, with a broadside by way of emphasis; the Dutch captain was a man of Jean Bart's stamp—a foeman worthy of his steel—and they had a great fight.
For three hours, at close range, they battered each other, Bart all the while trying to get a favourable position for boarding, but being constantly frustrated by the good seamanship of the other. At length, however, the Neptune was so seriously damaged aloft that she was no longer under full command; Bart, instantly and skilfully availing himself of the chance, got his vessel lashed alongside, and headed the boarding party, consisting of nearly all his crew. The Dutch captain, grievously wounded, sat on one side, like desperate Andrew Barton, and shouted to his men to lay on; but they were demoralised by the banging they had had, and Bart and his boarders were not to be denied; in a few minutes the affair was over, and the French flag replaced the Dutch. It was a proud moment for Jean Bart, and a proud day when he sailed into Dunkirk with the captured vessel in his wake, followed by the fleet of fishing-boats which his victory had thrown into his hands.
The fame of this exploit soon spread abroad, and one fine day Jean Bart received a gold chain from the king as a mark of appreciation of his prowess; at the same time the authorities began to discuss the question of keeping a list, or roll, of the best fighting privateer captains, in order that they might be transferred to the Navy in case of need—not necessarily an advantage to a keen privateersman, as he would occupy at first a subordinate position, very irksome after the freedom of his former life, in command of his ship.
Colbert, the Minister of State, was very eager about the matter, and advocated giving the most efficient privateer commanders the rank of commodore among their brethren, so that they could operate in squadrons, and attack the enemy's men-of-war. He caused inquiries to be made at Dunkirk and other ports as to the character and capability of the leading privateersmen; and of course he received extremely favourable reports of Jean Bart, who meanwhile was again at sea in the Palme, doing great execution.
His employers soon displayed their appreciation of his services by providing him with a yet larger ship—the Dauphin, of 30 guns, with a crew numbering 200. In this vessel, a year later, he encountered another Dutchman of the same sort as the captain of the Neptune.
Sailing in company with two smaller privateers, on June 18th, 1678, a Dutch frigate was sighted. The smallest privateer happened to be nearest to the enemy, who immediately attacked, hoping to carry her before her consorts could arrive. The Frenchman, however, handled his craft so judiciously as to keep his big antagonist in play until Bart came up. The two larger vessels—the Dutchman was the Sherdam, Captain Ranc—at once got into action, while Bart's smaller consort stood off, awaiting a chance. Seeing his opportunity, Bart signalled to her to bear down, and between them they got the Dutchman in such a position that he could not avoid being boarded. A crowd of men from both French vessels was speedily on his deck; but they had no kind of a walk-over; Ranc, though severely wounded, rallied his men again and again, and it was not until two-thirds of his crew were disabled or killed that he at length surrendered.
Bart was wounded in the leg, and badly burnt by the discharge of a gun, almost in his face, as he leaped on board; six of his men were killed and thirty-one wounded, while as for the saucy Dauphin, her career was at an end. So well had the Dutchmen plied their guns that her hull was shattered beyond repair, and it was with extreme difficulty that she was brought into harbour.