“What do you think it is, Mr. Jones?” asked Commodore Hopkins, with night glass in hand, examining the shadowy form of a ship under light canvas about half a mile off.
“I think it is a British frigate, sir,” replied Paul Jones, after looking intently at her. “She is too small for a ship of the line, and she does not carry sail enough for a merchant vessel with a good wind. She is simply cruising about, and probably looking for us.”
The Cabot being in the lead, night signals were made to her to engage the attention of the stranger, which had tacked, and was now making straight for the American squadron. Paul Jones then, as first lieutenant, saw the captain’s orders carried out to clear the Alfred for action as quietly as possible. No drums were beat, and the men went silently to their quarters. The batteries were lighted up, but by keeping the ports closed as little was shown as possible. A string of battle lanterns was laid in a row on the gun deck by little Danny Dixon, who wagged his head knowingly at Bill Green, who happened to be passing, and remarked:
“I say, Mr. Green, there will be some prize money for we arter this.”
“No, there won’t,” answered Bill, gruffly. “This ’ere commodore, he ain’t got a very good appetite for fightin’. Now, if Mr. Jones was commandin’—”
Just as the words were out of his mouth the quartermaster turned suddenly and saw Paul Jones’s stern eyes fixed on him. The first lieutenant, on making his last round, had come unexpectedly upon Bill, who knew better than to express such opinions about the commodore.
A dead silence followed. Paul Jones did not speak, but the look in his eye commanded discretion to Bill, who immediately began fumbling about the lanterns and instructing Danny in his duty.
The incident, though, made a deep impression upon Paul Jones. “If that is the feeling among the men, there is little hope of capturing the British ship,” he thought bitterly to himself.
He then went above, and just as his foot touched the deck he heard the frigate, which was now close upon them, hail the black brig.
“Who are you, and where are you bound?”