It was a glorious fight—and as fair a one as history records. The “Drake” pounded away at the “Ranger’s” hull alone, while Jones was doing all he could with his smaller pieces to cripple his enemy’s rigging. First the “Drake’s” fore-tops’l yard was cut in two. The main dropped next, and the mizzen gaff was shot away. For purposes of manœuvring, the “Drake” was useless and drifted down, her jib trailing in the water and her shrouds and rigging dragging astern. She was almost a wreck. As she heeled over on the swell, the gunners on the “Ranger” could see human blood mingling with the water of the division tubs that came from her scuppers. The first flag was shot away, but another was quickly run up to its place. In a moment that too was shot away from the hoisting halyard and fell into the water astern, where it trailed among the wreckage. But still she fought on.
On the “Ranger” the loss had been comparatively slight. Lieutenant Wallingford and one other man had been killed and there were five or six wounded men in the cockpit. Jones seemed to be everywhere, but still remained uninjured and directed the firing until the end. He saw that the sharpshooters in his tops were doing terrific execution on the decks of his adversary, and at last he saw the imposing figure of Captain Burdon twist around for a second and then sink down to the deck. Another officer fell, and in a moment above the crash of division firing and the rattle of the musketry overhead he heard a cry for quarter.
The battle was at an end in a little over an hour. It was almost as great a victory as that of the “Bonhomme Richard” over the “Serapis.” Paul Jones’s ship carried eighteen guns; the Englishman carried twenty. The “Ranger” had one hundred and twenty-three men; the “Drake” had one hundred and fifty-one and carried many volunteers besides. The “Ranger” lost two killed and had six wounded; the “Drake” lost forty-two killed and wounded. Against great odds John Paul Jones still remained victorious.
The people on shore heard the cannonading cease and saw the great clouds of gold-tinted smoke roll away to the south. There they saw the two vessels locked as if in an embrace of death and a great cheer went up. They thought the “Drake” invincible. The gray of twilight turned to black, and the ships vanished like spectres in the darkness. But late that night some fishermen in a boat came ashore with a sail from the store-room of the “Drake.” They said it had been given them by John Paul Jones. The people knew then that the “Drake” had been captured.
When the “Ranger” returned with her prizes to Brest, and his people told the tale of Paul Jones’s victory, France was electrified. Neither in France nor in England would they at first believe it. France made him her hero. England offered ten thousand guineas for his head.
A STRUGGLE TO THE DEATH
Never, since the beginning of time, has there been a fiercer sea-fight than that between the “Bonhomme Richard” and the “Serapis.” No struggle has been more dogged—no victory greater.
Three—four times during the night-long battle any other man than Paul Jones would have struck his colors. His main-deck battery and crews blown to pieces—his water-line gaping with wounds—his sides battered into one great chasm—still he fought on. His prisoners released—his masts tottering—his rudder gone—his ship afire below and aloft, his resistance was the more desperate. The thought of surrender never occurred to him.
After taking the “Drake” in a gallant fight, burning Whitehaven, and terrorizing the whole British coast, Paul Jones went to Paris, where a commission to the converted East Indiaman, the “Bonhomme Richard,” awaited him. Putting her in the best shape possible, he boldly steered across for English waters. Paul Jones thirsted for larger game.