Part 3 (1/2)
Before the _Ranger_ was launched, Jones was informed that he was to be the bearer of most important news to France. This news was the daily expected surrender of Burgoyne, the surrender that was so powerfully to affect the result of the war for independence. As to his fitness for conveying such a message, Lafayette attested thus: ”To captivate the French fancy, Captain Jones possesses, far beyond any other officer in your service, that peculiar aplomb, grace of manner, charm of person, and dash of character,” a compliment better understood when it is remembered that an alliance with France against Great Britain was then sought by Congress.
The _Ranger_ lay in the harbor of Portsmouth, New Hamps.h.i.+re, ready for sailing, and Jones _with his own hands raised the flag to the masthead, the first American flag to fly over a man-of-war_. Jones had already brought credit to the American navy by the capture of prizes in American waters; now he was to serve his country's interests off the coast of England.
The tang of autumn was in the air when he set sail for France.
Fulfilling his mission at Nantes, Jones set out for Brest, where the fleet of France was anch.o.r.ed. Would the Stars and Stripes, the symbol of the New Republic across the sea, be recognized by salute? The question was in every mind aboard s.h.i.+ps, and the answer eagerly awaited in the United States. A note couched in the diplomatic and elegant terms of which Paul Jones was master, was sent by him to the admiral of the French fleet, inquiring whether or not the flag would receive recognition. ”It will,” came back the answer. With that the _Ranger glided gracefully through the fleet of s.h.i.+ps; and Old Glory, in all the radiance of her new birth and coloring, waved response from the masthead to her first salute from European powers_. We, even after the long lapse of intervening years, feel still the thrill of her exultation.
Two months later the alliance between America and France was signed. The d.u.c.h.ess de Chartres became greatly interested in the young naval officer; and, having it in her power to advance his interests, she one day at a dinner presented him with a fine Louis Quintze watch that had belonged to her grandfather, saying, ”He hated the English; and I love the Americans.”
Paul Jones' response to the gift was as graceful as had been the presentation. ”May it please your Royal Highness, if fortune should favor me at sea, I will some day lay an English frigate at your feet.”
Two years later he did this and more.
France had promised Jones a new s.h.i.+p better suited to his capabilities than the _Ranger_. But diplomatic affairs between nations move slowly, and in this case the waiting became tedious. Jones had exhausted the pleasures of court circles to which he had been admitted and he longed for the life of the sea. He finally preferred his request directly to the king and shortly afterward was given, not the great sea monster he had been led to expect, but an insignificant looking craft called _Le Duras_. In compliment to Dr. Franklin's magazine of the name and in humorous comment of the s.h.i.+p's appearance, he renamed it the _Bon Homme Richard_, meaning the _Poor Richard_. But with the _Poor Richard_, as with the human form, the spirit which animated it was the controlling power; and the valor of Paul Jones was to send the name of the _Bon Homme Richard_ ringing down through the ages of all time.
As Captain Jones of the _Ranger_, he had captured the _Drake_, in a big sea fight, and surprised England; and now, as Commodore Jones, he was to win distinction as the greatest of naval heroes.
Off the English coast at Flamborough Head, he sighted an English fleet.
The flags.h.i.+p was the _Serapis_, in command of Captain Pearson. As the _Bon Homme Richard_ approached the _Serapis_, Captain Pearson raised his gla.s.s and remarked: ”That is probably Paul Jones. If so, there is work ahead.”
The salute affectionate between the vessels, after the formal hail, was a broadside. Then they fought, fought like fiends incarnate, clinched in each other's arms, in the death grapple, fought without flinching and, be it said, to the glory of the American navy and the credit of the English. The _Bon Homme_ was on fire and sinking. Captain Pearson, noting the situation, called, ”Have you struck your colors?”
Above the smoke and din of the conflict, Jones' voice answered, ”I have just begun to fight, Sir.”
He then lashed his s.h.i.+p to the _Serapis_, and stood, himself, at the guns.
”Shall we be quitting, Jamie?” he said in banter to a Scotchman at his side.
”There is still a shot in the locker, Sir,” replied the Scot.
”I thought,” said Captain Pearson afterward, ”Jones' answer to me meant mere bravado. But I soon perceived that it was the defiance of a man desperate enough, if he could not conquer, to sink with his s.h.i.+p.”
The _Bon Homme Richard's_ sides were shot away; her prisoners loose; her decks strewn with the dead and dying; the _Alliance_, her companion s.h.i.+p, had turned traitor and fired into her. When the fight seemed well-nigh lost, a well-directed blow brought disaster to the _Serapis_, and she hauled down her colors. As Captain Pearson surrendered his sword, Commodore Jones remarked, ”You have fought heroically, Sir. I trust your sovereign may suitably reward you.” To this Captain Pearson returned no answer.
The wonderful combat on the sea became the talk of all Europe. Paul Jones' name was honored wherever spoken. Contrary to court etiquette, he was invited to occupy apartments in the palace of the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess de Chartres. While he was there, a banquet was tendered him. During the progress of the dining, he called an attendant to bring from his apartment a leather case. This when it was opened disclosed a sword.
Turning to the d.u.c.h.ess, the commodore asked if she recalled his promise to lay a frigate at her feet one day? ”Your Royal Highness perceives,” he went on, ”the impossibility of keeping my promise in kind. The English frigate proved to be a 44 on two decks; the best I can do toward keeping my word of two years ago, is to place in your hands the sword of the brave officer who commanded the English 44. I have the honor to surrender to the loveliest woman the sword surrendered to me by one of the bravest of men,--the sword of Captain Richard Pearson, of his Britannic Majesty's late s.h.i.+p the _Serapis_.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I HAVE THE HONOR TO SURRENDER TO THE LOVELIEST WOMAN THE SWORD SURRENDERED TO ME BY ONE OF THE BRAVEST OF MEN.”]
The Royal Order of Military Merit with the t.i.tle of Chevalier and the gift of a gold-mounted sword were conferred upon him by the king of France. Upon returning to America, he was given the rank of Head of the Navy.
Remarkable as was the career of Paul Jones, the winds did not always set in his favor. Many times was his life bark driven through the waters of bitter disappointment. But ”all that he was, and all that he did, and all that he knew, was the result of self-help to a degree unexampled in the histories of great men.”
The flag of the _Ranger_, saluted by the French fleet, was transferred by Jones to the _Bon Homme Richard_, and, says he, in his journal as given by Buell, ”was left flying when we abandoned her; the very last vestige mortal ever saw of the _Bon Homme Richard_ was the defiant waving of her unconquered and unstricken flag as she went down. And as I had given them the good old s.h.i.+p for their sepulcher, I now bequeathed to my immortal dead the Flag they had so desperately defended, for their winding sheet.” Here was: ”the only flag,” says one, ”flying at the bottom of the sea, over the only s.h.i.+p that ever sunk in victory.”[1]
And everywhere, The slender graceful spars Poise aloft in the air And at the masthead White, blue, and red, A flag unfolds, the Stripes and Stars.
Ah, when the wanderers, lonely, friendless, In foreign harbors shall behold That flag unrolled, 'Twill be as a friendly hand Stretched out from native land, Filling his heart with memories Sweet and endless.