“Sir,” said Dale, who was a very matter-of-fact young man, “surely nobody will think of hunting for you in the lion’s mouth.”
Paul Jones at this laughed one of his rare laughs.
“You will go with me willingly into the lion’s mouth?” he said; to which Dale replied coolly:
“Of course, sir.”
In spite of the bad weather the ship made a good run, and the next day, it being perfectly clear, they passed boldly through the Straits of Dover, and were in full sight of the whole magnificent British fleet in the Downs. They then made the Isle of Wight, which they passed, and for more than an hour they were within a very short distance of the fleet assembled at Spithead. The forest of masts, the huge dark hulls of the ships, the fluttering ensigns, made a lovely picture in the bright air of December. What would not one of those brave British captains have given to know that Paul Jones, the invincible, was sailing under their very lee!
Paul Jones resorted to his usual ruse. The ports of the Alliance were closed, her guns covered with spare sails and tarpaulins, she flew the British ensign, her crew were kept below, and she presented the appearance of a smart British merchant ship, or possibly a letter of marque.
Two days was Paul Jones in the British Channel, much of the time in sight of the chalk cliffs of England, and scarcely an hour of the night or day that he was not in view of the British cruisers, which, as Dale justly said, did not think it worth while to look for him in the lion’s mouth. He kept well to windward, though, for this man, so daring in his undertakings, yet carried the details out with the most consummate prudence.
After getting clear of the channel, and in easy reach of the French harbors, he cruised about off Cape Finistère for some days. A furious January gale coming up in the Bay of Biscay, and having but one anchor left, Paul Jones put into the port of Corunna, in Spain. The fame of his exploits had preceded him, and he and his officers received the utmost attention, especially from some Spanish naval officers there. Paul Jones greatly admired the Spanish ships, which were sheathed with copper, and expensively fitted; but, like Nelson, he had no great faith in the ability of the Spaniards to take care of their fine ships.
On this cruise the Alliance seems to have been indeed a stormy petrel, and encountered much bad weather, so that it was the 10th of February before anchor was cast in the roads of Groix, before L’Orient.
Shouting multitudes received him. Letters of enthusiastic praise from Franklin and Lafayette and many distinguished Americans and Frenchmen awaited him, and he was hailed as the hope of the infant navy of his country.