Still there were the most annoying delays. Nothing in this world can be more difficult than to fit out a military expedition without money and without credit. The Ariel sailed out of the harbor and cast anchor in the road of Groix. Commodore Jones received during this time many flattering letters from admiring ladies of the French court. But his engagements were so pressing that he found but little time to reply to them. His instinctive sense of courtesy was such that this apparent neglect sometimes quite seriously annoyed him. To one lady he wrote:
“When one is conscious of having been in fault, I believe it is the best way to confess it and to promise amendment. This being my case in respect to you, madam, I am too honest to attempt to excuse myself; and therefore cast myself at your feet and beg your forgiveness, on condition that I behave better hereafter. For shame, Paul Jones! How could you let the fairest lady in the world, after writing you two letters, wait so long for an answer. Are you so much devoted to war as to neglect wit and beauty? I make myself a thousand such reproaches, and believe I punish myself as severely as you would do, madam, were you present here.”
Again he wrote to a noble lady, Madame L’Ormoy: “My particular thanks are due you, madam, for the personal proofs I have received of your esteem and friendship, and for the happiness you procured me in the society of the charming countess and other ladies and gentlemen of your circle. But I have a favor to ask of you, madam, which I hope you will grant me. You tell me, in your letter, that the inkstand I had the honor to present you as a small token of my esteem, shall be reserved for the purpose of writing what concerns me. Now I wish you to see my idea in a more expanded light, and would have you make use of that inkstand to instruct mankind, and support the dignity and rights of human nature.”[nature.”]
CHAPTER X.
The Return to America.
Fitting the Ariel.—Painful Delays.—The Sailing.—Terrible Tempest.—The Disabled Ship.—Puts back to L’Orient.—The Second Departure.—Meets the Triumph.—Bloody Naval Battle.—Perfidious Escape of the Triumph.—The Ariel Reaches America.—Honors Lavished upon Jones.—Appointed to Build and Command the America.—Great Skill Displayed.—The Ship given to France.—The Launch.
Tardily the French government had ordered the Ariel to be fully armed and equipped. Commodore Jones crowded the ship to its utmost possible capacity. Such a quantity[quantity] of powder, arms, and other stores were taken on board, that he had room for provisions for only nine weeks. The commodore had hoped to have left port at an earlier period, and at a more favorable season of the year. He was not able to weigh anchor and to spread his sails, for his adventurous voyage, until the 8th of October. He then sailed, with a fair wind and with promise of pleasant weather.
But the very next night a terrible tempest arose. In the midst of midnight darkness, with howling winds and dashing waves, the Ariel barely escaped being wrecked on the rocks of Penmarque, a ledge which was the terror of all seamen, between L’Orient and Brest. The gale was so severe that the lower yard-arms were frequently plunged into the water. The peril was so great that it was necessary to cut away the fore-mast. This seemed in some degree to relieve the ship from the terrible strain, so that her head was brought to the wind. But in the terrible plungings of the heavily laden ship over the billows, the main-mast had got out of the step, and reeled to and fro in the most threatening manner. The danger was imminent that the mast would either break off below the gun-deck, or that it would crush its way through the bottom of the ship. Commodore Jones gave orders for the main-mast to be cut away. But before this could be done the chain plates parted, and the main-mast, breaking off at the gun-deck, fell with a terrible crash, carrying with it the mizzenmast, and the quarter-gallery. In that deplorable situation, the Ariel, rolling like a log upon the tempest-lashed sea, by rare good luck floated in midnight darkness, to the windward of the ledge generally deemed the most dangerous in the world.
For two days and three nights this autumnal storm raged, covering the shore with wrecks, and with the bodies of the drowned. Even in the port of L’Orient many ships were torn from their anchorage, and were dashed on the shore. Probably nothing saved the Ariel but the loss of her masts. Had they remained standing, to receive the force of the gale, no anchor could have held her from being thrown upon the rocks. Jury-masts were rigged, and the shattered Ariel, after the gale, was taken back to L’Orient. On the 16th, he wrote to Lady D’Ormoy, in reply to a letter from her. In this communication, he said:
“I have returned without laurels, and, what is worse, without being able to render service to the glorious cause of liberty. I know not why Neptune was in such anger, unless he thought it an affront in me to appear on his ocean, with so insignificant a force. It is certain that till the night of the 8th, I did not fully conceive the awful majesty of tempest and of shipwreck. I can give you no just idea of the tremendous scene that nature then presented, which surpassed the reach even of poetic fancy and the pencil. I believe no ship was ever before saved from an equal danger off the point of the Penmarque rocks.
“I am extremely sorry that the young English lady you mention should have imbibed the national hatred against me. I have had proofs that many of the first and finest ladies of that nation are my friends. Indeed I cannot imagine why any fair lady should be my enemy, since, upon the large scale of universal philanthropy I feel, acknowledge, and bend before the sovereign power of beauty. The English nation may hate me, but I will force them to esteem me too.”