This man proved to be of great service in piloting the vessel; for, even after her character was discovered, he was forced to direct her, as his own life, as much as that of anybody’s on the ship, depended upon her safety.
The Bon Homme Richard, with her two consorts, the Pallas and the Vengeance, continued working to windward up the Frith until Sunday, the 17th of September, a gusty autumn morning. Then they were almost within cannon shot of the town. The boats were hoisted out, De Chamillard with his soldiers were ready, and Dale, the youngest lieutenant on board, but the one most after Paul Jones’s own heart, was just about to step over the side. The wind had been fresh since the dawn of day, but suddenly a black and furious squall was seen upon the water ahead of them. The men were ordered in from the boats to assist in shortening sail, which was barely done before the squall struck them. The gale increasing fearfully, the boats were hoisted in, and the vessels were obliged to bear up before the wind in order to save their spars. The gale continuing, they were driven out of the Frith, and had to seek the open sea for safety.
Toward night the wind moderated. The North Sea was full of merchant ships, and the Bon Homme Richard, as well as the Pallas, cruised back and forth, taking and sinking a number of colliers. This, however, was not the sort of enterprise that suited Paul Jones’s daring spirit. He proposed several adventurous plans to the French captains, but could not win their co-operation. They were brave men, but more prudent than enterprising, and they had not the personal knowledge of Paul Jones’s powers and resource to take the risks he proposed. There was a large fleet of merchant ships lying in the Humber, which Paul Jones wished to entice into the open roads. The Bon Homme Richard went off before the wind, and returned wearing British colors, hoping that a certain ship which carried a pendant at her masthead was a ship of war, and would fight. This ship, though, kept to the windward and near dangerous shoals, so that the Bon Homme Richard could not approach with safety.
In order to learn some news of what was being done in the way of preparations to meet him, Paul Jones boldly hoisted a signal for a pilot. Two pilot boats, supposing the Bon Homme Richard to be a British cruiser, responded. There was great eagerness between the pilot boats as to which should be taken on board. Lieutenant Dale, under Paul Jones’s orders, took them both on board, in order to learn everything possible about the state of affairs along the coast. Presently Paul Jones, in his undress uniform, which greatly resembled the British uniform, except that he wore a Scotch bonnet of blue cloth bound with gold, strolled along the deck, and, seeing young Dale in conversation with the pilots, joined him.
“Have you heard anything of Paul Jones and his ship, my good man?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” responded both pilots in a breath, and one of them continued:
“That ’ere ship yonder,” pointing to the vessel wearing a pendant, and which was still near the entrance to the Humber River, “she is a armed merchantman—”
“And,” broke in the other, anxious to contribute his quota, “there’s a king’s frigate layin’ at anchor up the river, a-waitin’ for news o’ that impudent rebel ship o’ Paul Jones’s to take her and sink her. I piloted the frigate in, and they’ve give us a private signal for all ships while the rebel ship is in these waters.”
“That signal would be useful to us,” remarked Paul Jones, smiling in spite of himself. “We have not been in port since early in August, and we might get in trouble through not knowing the signal.”
The pilots, still supposing the Bon Homme Richard to be a British ship, gave the signal. Having got all he wanted out of them, Paul Jones dismissed them with money, saying that as there was already a frigate in the river he would continue to cruise outside. As the pilots went over the side, Bill Green bawled at them: