The three officers looked at each other significantly. First Captain Cottineau spoke soothingly, but it had no effect upon Landais. Then De Chamillard tried to reason with him, but to no effect. M. Mease was not suffered to speak at all by the infuriated captain. As the officers passed along the deck to take their boat they noticed the sullen looks and mutinous air of the men, who firmly believed that they had either a traitor or a madman for a commander.
When they returned on board the Bon Homme Richard and reported to Paul Jones, he heard them through patiently. De Chamillard then declared that he believed Landais was crazy—that his language and countenance were wild and his conduct utterly irrational. To this Captain Cottineau disagreed. He was furiously angry with Landais, and thought him treacherous. Between these opposing views Paul Jones concluded to wait and have a personal interview with Landais. Within a few hours, however, the wind rose to a terrible gale, and the Alliance again disappeared, not to be seen until she made her appearance in a manner as unlooked for as usual.
Some days of alternate storm and fog followed. Paul Jones knew that he was off the Scottish coast, but not until the evening of the 13th of September was it clear enough for him to see the blue line of the Cheviot Hills in the distance.
Being in want of provisions and water, Paul Jones in the middle of the night sent an armed boat to bring off some sheep and oxen that were seen near the shore. Lieutenant Dale was in charge of the boat, and had with him money to pay for the cattle and sheep. This he did, allowing the owners a generous amount. He managed to extract a good deal of information from the peasantry, who told him of the capture of Mr. Lunt’s boat, and that the nature of the expedition was well known, as well as the fact that Paul Jones was in command, and that no less than eleven men-of-war were scouring the seas for the audacious Bon Homme Richard.
Upon their return to the ship Lieutenant Dale reported to the commodore. When he spoke of the eleven British captains, each one of whom was eagerly in search of the honor of capturing Paul Jones, a faint smile passed over the somewhat sad face of the commodore. England, the mistress of the seas, put forth all her strength and skill against this bold intruder into her very strongholds. But he was not to become her captive, but her continued defiance.
The coasts of England, Scotland, and Ireland were in an uproar by this time. Signal fires blazed on every hill, and expresses were sent to London announcing the danger. But Paul Jones knew he was in no danger from the shore, and he trusted to himself to take care of his ship at sea. Never since the days of the sea kings had any seaman so struck terror into his enemies as Paul Jones.
CHAPTER IX.
On the 14th of September Commodore Jones sent for the captains of the Pallas and Vengeance, and confided to them a plan he had for laying the city of Edinburgh under a contribution of two hundred thousand pounds, besides capturing an armed ship of twenty guns and three fine cutters that lay in Leith roads.
“The ships lie in a state of perfect indolence and security,” he said, “which will prove their ruin.”
The French captains were not at first equal to this bold project. During one whole night, while the squadron lay off the Frith of Forth, did Paul Jones argue with them, and at last their consent was won.