There never was any trouble about manning Paul Jones’s ships, and neither Bill Green nor little Danny Dixon could have been kept off with a stick. Therefore, on the fair, bright summer day that Paul Jones arrived at Portsmouth the very first creature he put his eyes on was Danny.
“Why, how are you, my lad?” cried Paul Jones, as he sprang out of the lumbering stagecoach, and saw Danny standing by the door of the inn where it stopped.
“Quite well, sir,” answered Danny with shining eyes, and stepping up to take Paul Jones’s luggage. He shouldered two portmanteaus manfully, but Paul Jones held on to a large parcel that he carried under his arm.
“No, no,” he cried, “this is too precious to be trusted out of my own hand. And how did you know I would be here to-day?”
“I didn’t know it for certain, sir, but Mr. Green and me, we has stood watch and watch for two days lookin’ for you, and Mr. Green says, if he ain’t the fust man aboard the Ranger to know you has come as how he’ll take it out on my hide, certain. But that’s only Mr. Green’s way o’ jokin’, sir.”
Danny went through with this very respectfully, and Paul Jones’s smiling eyes showed that he knew perfectly well the relations between the devoted little cabin boy, and the sturdy quartermaster. “Come on, then,” cried he, “and I have something here to decorate my ship with, that will make her shine indeed.”
In a little while they reached the ship, Danny red and proud with the honor of carrying the captain’s luggage. Sure enough, there stood Bill Green at the gangway, and he took his hat off as soon as he caught sight of Paul Jones. For his part, Paul Jones was delighted to know that he could count upon such a reliable petty officer as Bill, and greeted him warmly. Bill immediately snatched the luggage from Danny, who was left disconsolate, without even the Captain’s portmanteau to comfort him. The first lieutenant was on deck, and as soon as Paul Jones had greeted his officers he went aft, and, unrolling his parcel, shook out a large and handsome silk flag, the “Uncle Sam’s gridiron,” which he was destined, as he himself expressed it, “to attend with veneration on the ocean.” Bill Green fastened the flag to the halyards, but Paul Jones himself drew it up to the peak, amid the cheers of officers and men. Thus had he hoisted with his own hands the Stars and Stripes for the first time on an American ship of war, as he had been the first man to hoist the original flag of freedom.
From the day he stepped on board the Ranger, matters went on as they only can under the direction of a perfect sailor. The officers were enthusiastic and the crew made up of excellent material. Bill Green had long ago proved himself a very valuable man. He continued, however, to harass Danny Dixon with foks’l wit. But Danny had discovered that Bill’s magnificent promises of promotion and assurances of Captain Jones’s favor, were merely “pullin’ a leg,” in sailor language. Danny was now a tall, stout boy of fourteen, and very active aloft. Therefore, a day or two after Paul Jones got on board he said to the boy:
“Dixon, I think you can be classed as a seaman apprentice, and thereby raise your rating.”
“I’d ruther wait on you, sir,” promptly answered Danny.