“Have you heard anything of that American cruiser which has been prowling about, capturing merchant ships and frightening the coast people out of their wits?”
“No,” said the officer, now completely off his guard. “We would give a thousand pounds to meet her.”
“Our captain says come aboard, then,” said Stacy, “and he can give you some information about the Ranger that he guarantees is absolutely true.”
The boat then came alongside, a ladder was lowered, and the officer came up on the port side. Just then one of the Ranger’s boats was dropped from the davits; it was quickly filled with men, and in another minute the men in the Drake’s boat were informed that they were prisoners. As the officer stepped upon deck Paul Jones advanced.
“I am sorry to begin our acquaintance so unpleasantly, sir, but you are my prisoner. This is the American sloop of war Ranger, and I am Captain Paul Jones.”
The officer uttered an exclamation of anger. The name of Paul Jones was already well known, and one glance had shown him the true state of affairs.
“Make yourself as easy as possible,” said Paul Jones. “Yours is the fortune of war; but you will be treated with every consideration, and will, no doubt, be shortly exchanged.”
The other officers then came forward and politely condoled with the unlucky officer, while his men were sent below.
The whole thing had been witnessed from the Drake, which now had no doubt of the Ranger’s character, and lost no time in preparing to come out. The alarm had been given, and five vessels, filled with people anxious to see the contest between the two ships, put off from the shore. Alarm fires were set blazing, and the black smoke was wafted high in the noonday light. The tide was unfavorable, so that the Drake worked out very slowly. The Ranger now threw off every disguise. Her guns were run out and her men called to quarters by the tap of the drum, and she waited gallantly for her adversary. She drifted fast to windward, so that she was several times forced to put up her helm in order to run down toward her enemy, when she would throw her main topsail aback and lie with her courses in the brails.
The men were at their quarters, but laughing, joking, and singing, as it was the custom to permit them a little jollity at the moment of going into battle. They watched the Drake making her way slowly, with light and baffling winds, toward mid-channel, and exchanged squibs and songs about her. Bill Green was in his glory. As he was to take the wheel as soon as the ball opened, he was relieved until the first lieutenant called him. Paul Jones was very glad to have him relieved, as his songs inspired the men. Bill, seated on one of the long guns, with folded arms and his cap stuck rakishly on the back of his head, proceeded to troll out, in his rich voice, one of his favorite songs, which he claimed to have composed expressly for the occasion.