- description
- # AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN
## Overview
This subsection, titled "AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN," is an extracted text segment from the file [israel_potter.txt](arke:01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW). It spans lines 4371 to 4434 of the source text and is part of the larger [Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW) collection.
## Context
The subsection is contained within [CHAPTER XVI. THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS, AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN.](arke:01KG8AJJ2BDJ8N0FXM1C21XVSG). It follows the subsection [THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS](arke:01KG8AK6WGD75GXD23ZMBEFW4R) and precedes the subsection [Whitehaven](arke:01KG8AK7MY97K4DFDTJX8F928J). This segment details the preparations and initial approach for an attack on Whitehaven.
## Contents
The text describes Paul Jones's plan to attack Whitehaven, a town of 6,000-7,000 inhabitants defended by forts. Paul instructs Israel to gather spikes for disabling cannons. As evening falls, the ship approaches St. Bee’s Head and Whitehaven, but light winds delay their intended dawn assault. Paul meticulously inspects the preparations, filing down spikes and checking lanterns and combustibles. The narrative highlights Whitehaven's primary industry as coal, noting the town is built upon and surrounded by mines, with galleries extending two miles under the sea. The section concludes as Paul Jones, Israel Potter, and twenty-nine others silently row in two boats towards Whitehaven at midnight, with dawn approaching.
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- AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN
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- “Ah, Yellow-hair,” said Paul, with a smile, “they show the white flag,
the cravens. And, while the white flag stays blanketing yonder heights,
we’ll make for Whitehaven, my boy. I promised to drop in there a moment
ere quitting the country for good. Israel, lad, I mean to step ashore
in person, and have a personal hand in the thing. Did you ever drive
spikes?”
“I’ve driven the spike-teeth into harrows before now,” replied Israel;
“but that was before I was a sailor.”
“Well, then, driving spikes into harrows is a good introduction to
driving spikes into cannon. You are just the man. Put down your glass;
go to the carpenter, get a hundred spikes, put them in a bucket with a
hammer, and bring all to me.”
As evening fell, the great promontory of St. Bee’s Head, with its
lighthouse, not far from Whitehaven, was in distant sight. But the wind
became so light that Paul could not work his ship in close enough at an
hour as early as intended. His purpose had been to make the descent and
retire ere break of day. But though this intention was frustrated, he
did not renounce his plan, for the present would be his last
opportunity.
As the night wore on, and the ship, with a very light wind, glided
nigher and nigher the mark, Paul called upon Israel to produce his
bucket for final inspection. Thinking some of the spikes too large, he
had them filed down a little. He saw to the lanterns and combustibles.
Like Peter the Great, he went into the smallest details, while still
possessing a genius competent to plan the aggregate. But oversee as one
may, it is impossible to guard against carelessness in subordinates.
One’s sharp eyes can’t see behind one’s back. It will yet be noted that
an important omission was made in the preparations for Whitehaven.
The town contained, at that period, a population of some six or seven
thousand inhabitants, defended by forts.
At midnight, Paul Jones, Israel Potter, and twenty-nine others, rowed
in two boats to attack the six or seven thousand inhabitants of
Whitehaven. There was a long way to pull. This was done in perfect
silence. Not a sound was heard except the oars turning in the
row-locks. Nothing was seen except the two lighthouses of the harbor.
Through the stillness and the darkness, the two deep-laden boats swam
into the haven, like two mysterious whales from the Arctic Sea. As they
reached the outer pier, the men saw each other’s faces. The day was
dawning. The riggers and other artisans of the shipping would before
very long be astir. No matter.
The great staple exported from Whitehaven was then, and still is, coal.
The town is surrounded by mines; the town is built on mines; the ships
moor over mines. The mines honeycomb the land in all directions, and
extend in galleries of grottoes for two miles under the sea. By the
falling in of the more ancient collieries numerous houses have been
swallowed, as if by an earthquake, and a consternation spread, like
that of Lisbon, in 1755. So insecure and treacherous was the site of
the place now about to be assailed by a desperado, nursed, like the
coal, in its vitals.
Now, sailing on the Thames, nigh its mouth, of fair days, when the wind
is favorable for inward-bound craft, the stranger will sometimes see
processions of vessels, all of similar size and rig, stretching for
miles and miles, like a long string of horses tied two and two to a
rope and driven to market. These are colliers going to London with
coal.
- title
- AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN