- end_line
- 4249
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:05.591Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 4187
- text
- final sanction of the French king to the sailing of an American
armament against England, under the direction of the Colonial
Commissioner, was made known to the latter functionary. It was a very
ticklish affair. Though swaying on the brink of avowed hostilities with
England, no verbal declaration had as yet been made by France.
Undoubtedly, this enigmatic position of things was highly advantageous
to such an enterprise as Paul’s.
Without detailing all the steps taken through the united efforts of
Captain Paul and Doctor Franklin, suffice it that the determined rover
had now attained his wish—the unfettered command of an armed ship in
the British waters; a ship legitimately authorized to hoist the
American colors, her commander having in his cabin-locker a regular
commission as an officer of the American navy. He sailed without any
instructions. With that rare insight into rare natures which so largely
distinguished the sagacious Franklin, the sage well knew that a
prowling _brave_, like Paul Jones, was, like the prowling lion, by
nature a solitary warrior. “Let him alone,” was the wise man’s answer
to some statesman who sought to hamper Paul with a letter of
instructions.
Much subtile casuistry has been expended upon the point, whether Paul
Jones was a knave or a hero, or a union of both. But war and warriors,
like politics and politicians, like religion and religionists, admit of
no metaphysics.
On the second day after Israel’s arrival on board the Ranger, as he and
Paul were conversing on the deck, Israel suddenly levelling his glass
towards the Irish coast, announced a large sail bound in. The Ranger
gave chase, and soon, almost within sight of her destination—the port
of Dublin—the stranger was taken, manned, and turned round for Brest.
The Ranger then stood over, passed the Isle of Man towards the
Cumberland shore, arriving within remote sight of Whitehaven about
sunset. At dark she was hovering off the harbor, with a party of
volunteers all ready to descend. But the wind shifted and blew fresh
with a violent sea.
“I won’t call on old friends in foul weather,” said Captain Paul to
Israel. “We’ll saunter about a little, and leave our cards in a day or
two.”
Next morning, in Glentinebay, on the south shore of Scotland, they fell
in with a revenue wherry. It was the practice of such craft to board
merchant vessels. The Ranger was disguised as a merchantman, presenting
a broad drab-colored belt all round her hull; under the coat of a
Quaker, concealing the intent of a Turk. It was expected that the
chartered rover would come alongside the unchartered one. But the
former took to flight, her two lug sails staggering under a heavy wind,
which the pursuing guns of the Ranger pelted with a hail-storm of shot.
The wherry escaped, spite the severe cannonade.
Off the Mull of Galoway, the day following, Paul found himself so nigh
a large barley-freighted Scotch coaster, that, to prevent her carrying
tidings of him to land, he dispatched her with the news, stern
foremost, to Hades; sinking her, and sowing her barley in the sea
broadcast by a broadside. From her crew he learned that there was a
fleet of twenty or thirty sail at anchor in Lochryan, with an armed
brigantine. He pointed his prow thither; but at the mouth of the lock,
the wind turned against him again in hard squalls. He abandoned the
project. Shortly after, he encountered a sloop from Dublin. He sunk her
to prevent intelligence.
- title
- Chunk 2