“They’ve stole the barge, sir,” he gasped out, sputtering, “and run away, some o’ the Portygees and Malays—there warn’t no ’Mericans among ’em. They wanted me to go along, but I jest slipped overboard and swam for the ship, and here I is.”
Angry and indignant as Dale felt at the conduct of the barge’s crew, Danny’s matter-of-fact way of telling of his loyalty both pleased and amused him. He said hastily to Danny, “Go below and report to the captain,” and without waiting for orders, the only boat left on the ship was manned, and, with Mr. Lunt in command, put briskly after the deserters. Lieutenant Dale also brought one of the ship’s long twelves to bear on the retreating boat and fired several shots, but both the barge and her pursuers were soon lost in the increasing darkness. In a little while the other boats reached the ship towing the brigantine. The vessel proving stanch and her cargo valuable, Paul Jones threw a prize crew on her and sent her to L’Orient.
As the night wore on a dense white fog descended upon the ocean, and the calm continued. There was no sign of Mr. Lunt’s boat. The Bon Homme Richard fired signal guns all night, and all the next day, as the fog showed no sign of lifting. The Cerf was sent in the morning to reconnoiter the coast for the missing boat. The same degree of cowardice or insanity appeared to possess the cutter as the Alliance. She was seen by the boat and would have been rejoined, but, the Cerf hoisting British colors, and firing at the unfortunate boat, Mr. Lunt was forced to run ashore, when he and all his boat’s crew were captured. Thus did the commodore lose the services of one of his best officers and two boats full of men, amounting to twenty-four in all.
The morning after the boat was lost the captain’s gig of the Alliance was seen at the side of the Bon Homme Richard. In a few minutes the tall and imposing figure of Captain Landais appeared upon the ship. Paul Jones was on deck at the time, and, advancing to greet Captain Landais courteously, he was struck by the savage scowl upon the Frenchman’s countenance. The general repute of Captain Landais’s ungovernable temper and Paul Jones’s previous experience made him prefer to see the captain in the cabin. He invited a French marine officer on board, M. de Chamillard, and an American army officer, Colonel Weibert, who had volunteered to serve on the Bon Homme Richard, to accompany him and hear what passed.
As soon as they reached the cabin, Landais, throwing his glove violently on the table, exclaimed in English, “So you have lost your boats!” This he immediately repeated in French for De Chamillard’s benefit, who did not understand English.
“What do you mean?” asked Paul Jones calmly.
“That you have lost your boats—and this comes of attacking a brigantine with boats.”
“But my boats were not lost while attacking the brigantine,” replied Paul Jones, thinking that Landais was under a mistake. “My barge was cut adrift while towing the ship, and the deserters absconded. The brigantine was captured.”
“And yet I was not allowed to cruise on my own responsibility upon this coast!” shouted the captain.
Something in the wild gleam of his eye gave Paul Jones the calmness to reason with him.