| CHAP. | PAGE | |
| I | How Ethan Carlyle Brought the News of Burgoyne’s Surrender | [ 9] |
| II | How a Spy Listened at the Window | [ 21] |
| III | How the Shallop Attacked the Island Queen | [ 32] |
| IV | Shows How the Ranger Sailed for France | [ 46] |
| V | How Ethan Carlyle Faced the Bully of the Ranger | [ 62] |
| VI | What Happened by Night in the Harbor of Nantes | [ 73] |
| VII | How Longsword Struck Home | [ 82] |
| VIII | Shows How Benjamin Franklin Opened the Secret Dispatch | [ 104] |
| IX | How Ethan and Longsword Met a Man Named Fochard | [ 114] |
| X | The Cruise of the Ranger | [ 130] |
| XI | On St. Mary’s Isle | [ 151] |
| XII | In Which Danvers Appears Once More | [ 162] |
| XIII | How the Spy Lost His Prisoners | [ 176] |
| XIV | How Ethan and Longsword Took the Schooner | [ 192] |
| XV | How the Schooner Came Upon the Drake in the Darkness | [ 209] |
| XVI | How the Ranger Fought the Drake | [ 216] |
| XVII | The Secret Agent Once More | [ 230] |
| XVIII | The Road to Brest | [ 251] |
| XIX | How the Erin Put to Sea | [ 266] |
| XX | Shows How a Soldier Came out of Mill Prison | [ 279] |
| XXI | The Exploit of Master Dirk Hatfield | [ 293] |
| XXII | The Press-Gang | [ 304] |
| XXIII | How the Bon Homme Richard Met the Serapis | [ 319] |
| XXIV | How the Serapis Struck Her Flag | [ 339] |
| XXV | Home and Liberty | [ 354] |
Illustrations
| John Paul Jones Flushed with Pleasure | [ Frontispiece] |
| PAGE | |
| “I’ll do it,” said Ethan Promptly | [ 26] |
| “Keep them at Sword’s Length,” said Captain Jones | [ 99] |
| Danvers came down into the Hold | [ 171] |
| Ethan Carlyle stood before them | [ 204] |
| An Angry Look came into Hatfield’s Eyes | [ 313] |
| He Began to throw the Grenades | [ 349] |
With John Paul Jones
CHAPTER I
HOW ETHAN CARLYLE BROUGHT THE NEWS OF
BURGOYNE’S SURRENDER
“Who is that man that is so much at the Wheelocks’ just now?” asked young Walter Stanton of his friend Philip Morgan.
“Some Tory friend, I suppose. I don’t like him; see the sneer upon his face as he looks at the members upon the steps of the State House.”
It was about noon on a day late in September in the year 1777. A group of young men and boys were lounging upon some benches in the shade of two big buttonwoods directly across from the quaint old State House at Philadelphia. The sun hung almost over the tower whose bell had boomed freedom to a nation only a little more than a year before; upon the stone steps of the building stood a number of grave-faced, earnest gentlemen, members of the first Continental Congress, talking of the weighty matters that were to be discussed in the approaching session.
The man who had attracted Walter Stanton’s attention was a person of striking appearance. He had thick, coal-black hair, a pale, keen face and a frame that showed strength and endurance. A boy of about nineteen stood at his side, and they were both talking in low tones and watching the patriot-legislators as they slowly assembled. Philip Morgan was right when he said that the stranger wore a sneer upon his face. That cold look of pitying contempt and the curl of the man’s lip could mean nothing else. A stir went through the crowd of lads as an erect, care-worn man passed slowly along, with bent head and an air of great abstraction, every hat came off with a sweep of respect.
“Who is that man?” asked the stranger of Walter.