“No,” answered Ethan. “Freeman, the sailor whom we took with us, slipped into the town and aroused the people. They are coming in crowds.”
A frown wrinkled the commander’s brow.
“I had hoped that this would not happen, at least, until we had kindled a good blaze. But we must do our best, as it is. Ahoy, there, into the brig, and put the torch to her.”
There were a great number of vessels which had been taking in or discharging cargoes; for the most part they lay close together, and a fire started in one would probably mean the destruction of all.
The brig to which Paul Jones referred was one of the largest vessels at hand, and a great quantity of combustible matter had been scattered through her while Ethan had been securing the lights. Those set to apply the torch did not perform that duty quickly enough for the impatient commander; so he sprang forward, snatched a blazing brand from one of them and leaped aboard the brig. Plunging below decks he applied the torch; as he gained the deck once more he was followed by a thick cloud of smoke and a shower of sparks.
The people of Whitehaven had, by this time, reached the entrance to the wharf, though the sight of a number of heavily-armed seamen halted them promptly. But with each passing moment their numbers increased, their shouts and execrations filled the air; every now and then a flight of missiles would patter about the Americans. Then the fired brig burst into a fierce blaze; from every port and seam smoke and flame jetted and curled; and as no more was now to be done, Paul Jones shouted:
“To the boats, men. But take your time. Show any evidence of haste, and we’ll have all those people upon us.”
The men obeyed. With Lieutenant Wallingford’s eye upon them, they climbed into the boats. Captain Jones, however, remained upon the pier. Ethan was about to follow the others when he noticed this.
“All hands in the boats, sir,” said he.
“Very well,” answered the other coolly.