Paul Jones, in the absence of a chaplain, read the burial service himself over the brave men who had so gallantly fallen that day in fair and patriotic fight. His voice sounded inexpressibly solemn as he raised it in the inspiring words: “I am the resurrection and the life. If a man shall believe on Me, though he be dead, yet shall he live.”
When the short but impressive ceremony was over, the body of Captain Burden was first dropped overboard, followed by that of poor Wallingford. The sailors’ bodies followed in order. As the last dull splash showed that the melancholy duty was over, the flags were run up as if by magic on the two ships, and the bugler piped a merry call. Then every man went to work with a will, taking advantage of the clear night and good weather to get the shattered Drake into condition, and the sounds of cheerful toil resounded the whole night through.
It was Paul Jones’s determination to carry the captured Drake directly to France, for he was the last man in the world to abandon so gallant a trophy. He had on board the Ranger about a hundred and forty prisoners, including the wounded, and with his small crew he managed to take care of them and repair partially the damage done the unfortunate Drake.
The men continued to work with the fierce energy that characterized those acting under Paul Jones’s command, and within twenty-four hours jury masts had been set up and rigged, new sails had been bent, the holes in the hull planked over, and Paul Jones was ready to make his way to France.
He had, indeed, struck terror to the trading vessels of the region, but, the alarm being given, he knew that war-ships were already after him. The wind shifting and threatening a gale, he determined to pass by the north of the channel and around the west coast of Ireland, which would bring him directly in the spot of his performance the day before. This Paul Jones considered an advantage, as his enemies would scarcely be looking for him in the very place he had just left. As he passed so close to the port of Carrickfergus, from which he had taken the three fishermen on the evening of the 21st, he concluded to send them to their homes, much to their delight. Their own boat had been lost, and he determined to give them a good one out of the many he had on board. It was toward dusk when the boat was lowered and the men called upon deck.
Among the prisoners were two sick men from Dublin, that Paul Jones also determined to send to their homes, and these two were also sent for on deck. When they arrived, Paul Jones handed them some money.
“This is the last shilling that I have in the world at present, but you are welcome to it,” he said to the sick men. They responded with a feeble but grateful “Thankee, sir.” To the fisherman he said: “The boat I give you is yours, and in it you will find a sail of the Drake’s. That will show what has become of her.”
The fishermen looked completely dazed by their good fortune, for the boat given them was much larger and better than their own. They recovered their senses, though, after they got into the boat, and as they passed under the Ranger’s quarter they gave three rousing cheers for Captain Jones. The captain raised his cap in reply, and in another moment the ship was sailing past the harbor, past the town, with its lights dimly visible, past the castle on the rock, where a brightly lighted tower stood watch, and, weathering the headland, she was soon steering a straight course for the North Channel.
CHAPTER VIII.
It was a fair and lovely May morning when the Ranger, still towing the Drake, appeared off the bay of Brest. The American ensign was hoisted on the Drake over the Union Jack, and this told the glorious story. Word flew from mouth to mouth among the French men-of-war in the roads to the people in the dockyards and the town. A fleet of pilot boats put off, each eager to have the honor of taking the Ranger and her prize in through the narrow and dangerous channel of Le Goulet. Paul Jones stood on his quarter-deck, as calm and easy as ever, but his soul thrilled with patriotic pride. The British had denounced him as a pirate, a traitor, and a felon, and he had had first, the justifiable revenge of showing himself alone and undaunted in the midst of his enemies, capturing a ship of equal size and force, and afterward, the nobler revenge of treating his prisoners with the utmost kindness and courtesy. As the Ranger passed the flagship she gave thirteen guns, and every ship in the French squadron in return saluted the flag flying at the Ranger’s mizzen peak. The French sailors manned the yards of the flagship without orders, and a volley of cheers mingled with the hoarse thunder of the guns as the little American vessel made her way cautiously up the narrow channel. The great clouds of white smoke rose in the clear May sunshine, and almost hid the Ranger’s hull and that of her consort: but high above the white and drifting mist the American ensign floated proudly.