“That’s true, sir,” grinned Bill, “but if you’ll excuse a old fellow, Mr. Dale, I see you has on a new uniform, sir, and I’d be advisin’ of you to git out your old clo’es, because it jest might happen, sir, that the Britisher might fire at us; and then, axerdentally, sir, somebody might pull a lockstring, and the port might be open, sir, and the shot might hit the Britisher, and then, without the cap’n a-wantin’ it, as knowin’ as how the enemy was too heavy for him, he might have to fight agin his will. ’Tain’t ornlikely, sir, that somethin’ might come of it, and the cap’n may have to fight, sir, though he mortially hates to.”
Dale passed on laughing, went below, and took Bill Green’s advice; he took off his new undress uniform, and put on another one rather the worse for wear. Just as he was finishing his toilet, Danny Dixon tapped at the door of his cabin.
“If you please, sir, the cap’n sends his compliments, and wants to see you on deck.”
In a few moments Dale was on deck. As he walked up to Paul Jones, the captain said:
“I looked about for you, and my boy told me you had gone below to shift.”
“Yes,” answered Dale, with a gleam in his eyes. “We know that you don’t care to tackle that ship; she’s too heavy for us, and you never like to fight except when you are on an equality; but all the same, as Bill Green says, ‘something may come of it,’ so I went below to take off my uniform, which is a little too good to wear upon such an occasion as may arise.”
Paul Jones looked sternly at Dale for a moment, and then, in spite of himself, burst out laughing.
Nevertheless, the Ariel carried all sail to escape the ship, which was now evidently pursuing. As darkness came on the Ariel seemed to be gaining, and during the night watches the officers reported that she was completely out of sight. Just as the darkness melted into dawn, however, Paul Jones, who had been on deck several times during the night, appeared, and as the faint gray of the early light illumined the sky he pointed astern. There was the frigate, flying a British ensign, and not more than a mile away.
Without drumbeat, or any noise whatever, the Ariel was cleared for action. She was not sailing her best, owing to her deeply laden condition, and Paul Jones ordered everything thrown overboard that could impede her sailing and fighting qualities. This so much improved the sailing of the ship that she now stretched her legs in earnest. Everybody on board felt perfectly certain that the captain meant to fight, but as the frigate was now plainly pursuing the American sloop of war, Paul Jones wished to test the sailing and manœuvring of his ship under her lighter conditions before engaging. This conduct evidently puzzled the frigate, and the state of uncertainty was further increased by the Ariel hoisting British colors, but occasionally firing a stern chaser as she ran away. At last, toward night, Paul Jones, having made all his preparations, the Ariel hauled up her mainsail, took in her royal yards, and waited for her enemy. She had not yet hoisted her American colors, but her batteries were lighted up and her ports open.
“Why, Green,” said Dale, passing him, as Danny Dixon appeared with a string of battle lanterns ready to be lighted, “it looks as if we were going to have a brush, after all.”