Not long after this, as Captain Jones was lying to, on the banks near the Isle of Sables, to allow his men to fish, another large English frigate hove in sight, which proved to be the Milford. Though he had much confidence in the speed of his light little sloop, which, under her cloud of canvas, could almost like a bubble skim the wave, he prudently tried her speed with that of the gigantic foe approaching. Finding that he could easily outstrip her, he tauntingly allowed the Milford to approach to nearly within gun-shot. He then spread his sails, keeping just out of harm’s way.
The frigate rounded to and discharged her broadside. The shot skipped over the waves and sank at some distance before reaching the sloop. After each broadside, Captain Jones, in token of his contempt, ordered his marine officer to return the fire, by the discharge of a single musket. He kept up this burlesque of a battle, causing the frigate to throw away her ammunition, from ten o’clock in the morning till sunset. He then spread all sail and went unharmed on his way.
The next morning he entered the Gut of Canso, which separates the Island of Cape Breton from the mainland. He found three English schooners in the harbor of Canso. He burned one, and sunk another, after having filled the third, a schooner, the Ebenezer, with what fish had been found in the other two. Here he learned that at the Island of Madame, near by, on the east side of the Bay of Canso, there were nine British vessels, consisting of brigs, ships, and schooners. He sent boats, well armed, to destroy them, while he kept off and on with his sloop, ready to punish severely any attempt to rescue the shipping.
The enterprise was entirely successful, and, as no opposition was made, it was bloodless. These vessels had transferred their cargoes to the shore, and were unrigged. It would take some time to fit them for sea. Despatch was of the utmost importance. Captain Jones humanely, and very wisely, informed the crews of these vessels, that if they would cordially assist him in rigging and fitting out such vessels as he required, he would leave them vessels sufficient to cross the Atlantic to their own homes.
Though the British officers were generally very bitter in their hostility to the colonial cause, it was not so with the masses of the English people. There was in their hearts an underlying feeling of sympathy with the brave colonists who were struggling against intolerable oppression. These English sailors, therefore, heartily joined their American brothers, and assisted, with the utmost energy, until the business was accomplished.
On the evening of September 25th, a violent tempest arose, with deluging rain. Captain Jones was compelled to cast anchor at the entrance of the harbor, where, with both his anchors and whole cables ahead, he with difficulty rode out the storm. One of the prize ships, the Alexander, which was just ready for sea, anchored under the shelter of a projecting point of rocks, and thus narrowly escaped destruction. Another of the prizes, a schooner, called the Sea-Flower, with a valuable cargo, was torn from her moorings and driven ashore, a total wreck. As she could not be got off the next day, she was set on fire. The schooner Ebenezer, which he had brought from Canso, laden with fish, was driven on a reef of sunken rocks, and totally lost. With great difficulty the crew saved themselves on a raft.
Toward noon of the 26th this fierce gale began to abate. The British ship Adventure he burned in the harbor. He then put to sea, taking with him three heavily laden prizes, the ship Alexander, and the brigantines Kingston and Success.
The fishery at Canso and Madame he thus effectually destroyed. He left behind him two small schooners and one brig, to convey the British seamen, about three hundred in number, back to their homes. He said, “Had I not done this, I should have stood chargeable with inhumanity.”
This bold enterprise was indeed bearding the lion in his den. It woke up the British Government to a new sense of the vigor of that worm which it supposed was squirming helplessly beneath its feet. It taught the proud Court of St. James that in war there were blows to be received as well as blows to be given. These acts seem cruel. But “war,” says General Sherman, “is cruelty. You cannot refine it.”
While England was wantonly laying our villages in ashes, and driving women and children in homelessness and starvation into the fields, Captain Jones spared all private property on the land. He only seized or consigned to destruction that private property afloat, which the code of war England herself had established, pronounced to be lawful booty. England, proud mistress of the seas, supposed that she, with her invincible navy, could plunder the commerce of all nations, and that she had nothing to fear in the way of retaliation. It must have been to her indeed a surprise to find the shipping in her own harbors plundered and blazing.