University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.
THEY CALL AT THE EARL OF SELKIRK'S, AND AFTERWARDS
FIGHT THE SHIP-OF-WAR DRAKE.

THE Ranger now stood over the Solway Frith for the
Scottish shore, and at noon on the same day, Paul,
with twelve men, including two officers and Israel, landed
on St. Mary's Isle, one of the seats of the Earl of Selkirk.

In three consecutive days this elemental warrior either
entered the harbors or landed on the shores of each of
the Three Kingdoms.

The morning was fair and clear. St. Mary's Isle lay
shimmering in the sun. The light crust of snow had
melted, revealing the tender grass and sweet buds of
spring mantling the sides of the cliffs.

At once, upon advancing with his party towards the
house, Paul augured ill for his project from the loneliness
of the spot. No being was seen. But cocking his bonnet
at a jaunty angle, he continued his way. Stationing the
men silently round about the house, followed by Israel,
he announced his presence at the porch.

A gray-headed domestic at length responded.

“Is the Earl within?”

“He is in Edinburgh, sir.”

“Ah—sure?—Is your lady within?”

“Yes, sir—who shall I say it is?”

“A gentleman who calls to pay his respects. Here,
take my card.”

And he handed the man his name, as a private gentleman,
superbly engraved at Paris, on gilded paper.

Israel tarried in the hall while the old servant led Paul
into a parlor.

Presently the lady appeared.

“Charming Madame, I wish you a very good morning.”

“Who may it be, sir, that I have the happiness to
see?” said the lady, censoriously drawing herself up at
the too frank gallantry of the stranger.

“Madame, I sent you my card.”

“Which leaves me equally ignorant, sir,” said the lady,
coldly, twirling the gilded pasteboard.

“A courier dispatched to Whitehaven, charming Madame,
might bring you more particular tidings as to who has
the honor of being your visitor.”

Not comprehending what this meant, and deeply displeased,
if not vaguely alarmed, at the characteristic
manner of Paul, the lady, not entirely unembarrassed, replied,
that if the gentleman came to view the isle, he
was at liberty so to do. She would retire and send
him a guide.

“Countess of Selkirk,” said Paul, advancing a step,
“I call to see the Earl. On business of urgent importance,
I call.”

“The Earl is in Edinburgh,” uneasily responded the
lady, again about to retire.

“Do you give me your honor as a lady that it is as
you say?”

The lady looked at him in dubious resentment.

“Pardon, Madame, I would not lightly impugn a lady's
lightest word, but I surmised that, possibly, you might
suspect the object of my call, in which case it would be
the most excusable thing in the world for you to seek
to shelter from my knowledge the presence of the Earl
on the isle.”

“I do not dream what you mean by all this,” said
the lady with a decided alarm, yet even in her panic
courageously maintaining her dignity, as she retired,
rather than retreated, nearer the door.

“Madame,” said Paul, hereupon waving his hand imploringly,
and then tenderly playing with his bonnet with
the golden band, while an expression poetically sad and
sentimental stole over his tawny face; “it cannot be too
poignantly lamented that, in the profession of arms, the
officer of fine feelings and genuine sensibility should be
sometimes necessitated to public actions which his own
private heart cannot approve. This hard case is mine.
The Earl, Madame, you say is absent. I believe those
words. Far be it from my soul, enchantress, to ascribe
a fault to syllables which have proceeded from so faultless
a source.”

This probably he said in reference to the lady's mouth,
which was beautiful in the extreme.

He bowed very lowly, while the lady eyed him with

conflicting and troubled emotions, but as yet all in darkness
as to his ultimate meaning. But her more immediate
alarm had subsided, seeing now that the sailor-like
extravagance of Paul's homage was entirely unaccompanied
with any touch of intentional disrespect. Indeed, hyperbolical
as were his phrases, his gestures and whole carriage
were most heedfully deferential.

Paul continued: “The Earl, Madame, being absent,
and he being the sole object of my call, you cannot labor
under the least apprehension, when I now inform you, that
I have the honor of being an officer in the American
Navy, who, having stopped at this isle to secure the person
of the Earl of Selkirk as a hostage for the American
cause, am, by your assurances, turned away from that
intent; pleased, even in disappointment, since that disappointment
has served to prolong my interview with
the noble lady before me, as well as to leave her domestic
tranquillity unimpaired.”

“Can you really speak true?” said the lady in undismayed
wonderment.

“Madame, through your window you will catch a little
peep of the American colonial ship-of-war, Ranger, which
I have the honor to command. With my best respects to
your lord, and sincere regrets at not finding him at home,
permit me to salute your ladyship's hand and withdraw.”

But feigning not to notice this Parisian proposition,
and artfully entrenching her hand, without seeming to do
so, the lady, in a conciliatory tone, begged her visitor
to partake of some refreshment ere he departed, at the
same time thanking him for his great civility. But declining

these hospitalities, Paul bowed thrice and quitted
the room.

In the hall he encountered Israel, standing all agape
before a Highland target of steel, with a claymore and
foil crossed on top.

“Looks like a pewter platter and knife and fork,
Captain Paul.”

“So they do, my lion; but come, curse it, the old
cock has flown; fine hen, though, left in the nest; no use;
we must away empty-handed.”

“Why, ain't Mr. Selkirk in?” demanded Israel in
roguish concern.

“Mr. Selkirk? Alexander Selkirk, you mean. No,
lad, he's not on the Isle of St. Mary's; he's away off, a
hermit, on the Isle of Juan Fernandez—the more's the
pity; come.”

In the porch they encountered the two officers. Paul
briefly informed them of the circumstances, saying,
nothing remained but to depart forthwith.

“With nothing at all for our pains?” murmured the
two officers.

“What, pray, would you have?”

“Some pillage, to be sure—plate.”

“Shame. I thought we were three gentlemen.”

“So are the English officers in America; but they
help themselves to plate whenever they can get it from
the private houses of the enemy.”

“Come, now, don't be slanderous,” said Paul; “these
officers you speak of are but one or two out of twenty,
mere burglars and light-fingered gentry, using the king's

livery but as a disguise to their nefarious trade. The rest
are men of honor.”

“Captain Paul Jones,” responded the two, “we have
not come on this expedition in much expectation of
regular pay; but we did rely upon honorable plunder.”

“Honorable plunder! That's something new.”

But the officers were not to be turned aside. They
were the most efficient in the ship. Seeing them resolute,
Paul, for fear of incensing them, was at last, as a matter
of policy, obliged to comply. For himself, however, he
resolved to have nothing to do with the affair. Charging
the officers not to allow the men to enter the house on
any pretence, and that no search must be made, and
nothing must be taken away, except what the lady should
offer them upon making known their demand, he beckoned
to Israel and retired indignantly towards the beach.
Upon second thoughts, he dispatched Israel back, to enter
the house with the officers, as joint receiver of the plate,
he being, of course, the most reliable of the seamen.

The lady was not a little disconcerted on receiving
the officers. With cool determination they made known
their purpose. There was no escape. The lady retired.
The butler came; and soon, several silver salvers, and
other articles of value, were silently deposited in the
parlor in the presence of the officers and Israel.

“Mister Butler,” said Israel, “let me go into the dairy
and help to carry the milk-pans.”

But, scowling upon this rusticity, or roguishness—he
knew not which—the butler, in high dudgeon at Israel's
republican familiarity, as well as black as a thundercloud

with the general insult offered to an illustrious
household by a party of armed thieves, as he viewed
them, declined any assistance. In a quarter of an hour
the officers left the house, carrying their booty.

At the porch they were met by a red-cheeked, spiteful-looking
lass, who, with her brave lady's compliments,
added two child's rattles of silver and coral to their
load.

Now, one of the officers was a Frenchman, the other
a Spaniard.

The Spaniard dashed his rattle indignantly to the
ground. The Frenchman took his very pleasantly, and
kissed it, saying to the girl that he would long preserve
the coral, as a memento of her rosy cheeks.

When the party arrived on the beach, they found Captain
Paul writing with pencil on paper held up against
the smooth tableted side of the cliff. Next moment he
seemed to be making his signature. With a reproachful
glance towards the two officers, he handed the slip
to Israel, bidding him hasten immediately with it to the
house and place it in Lady Selkirk's own hands.

The note was as follows:

How the lady received this super-ardent note, history
does not relate. But history has not omitted to record,
that after the return of the Ranger to France, through

the assiduous efforts of Paul in buying up the booty; piece
by piece, from the clutches of those among whom it had
been divided, and not without a pecuniary private loss
to himself, equal to the total value of the plunder, the
plate was punctually restored, even to the silver heads
of two pepper-boxes; and, not only this, but the Earl,
hearing all the particulars, magnanimously wrote Paul a
letter, expressing thanks for his politeness. In the opinion
of the noble Earl, Paul was a man of honor. It were
rash to differ in opinion with such high-born authority.

Upon returning to the ship, she was instantly pointed
over towards the Irish coast. Next morning Carrickfergus
was in sight. Paul would have gone straight in;
but Israel, reconnoitring with his glass, informed him that
a large ship, probably the Drake, was just coming out.

“What think you, Israel, do they know who we are?
Let me have the glass.”

“They are dropping a boat now, sir,” replied Israel,
removing the glass from his eye, and handing it to Paul.

“So they are—so they are. They don't know us.
I'll decoy that boat alongside. Quick—they are coming
for us—take the helm now yourself, my lion, and keep
the ship's stern steadily presented towards the advancing
boat. Don't let them have the least peep at our broadside.”

The boat came on, an officer in its bow all the time
eyeing the Ranger through a glass. Presently the boat
was within hail.

“Ship ahoy! Who are you?”

“Oh, come alongside,” answered Paul through his trumpet,

in a rapid off-hand tone, as though he were a gruff
sort of friend, impatient at being suspected for a foe.

In a few moments the officer of the boat stepped into
the Ranger's gangway. Cocking his bonnet gallantly,
Paul advanced towards him, making a very polite bow,
saying: “Good morning, sir, good morning; delighted
to see you. That's a pretty sword you have; pray, let
me look at it.”

“I see,” said the officer, glancing at the ship's armament,
and turning pale. “I am your prisoner.”

“No—my guest,” responded Paul, winningly. “Pray,
let me relieve you of your—your—cane.”

Thus humorously he received the officer's delivered
sword.

“Now tell me, sir, if you please,” he continued, “what
brings out his Majesty's ship Drake this fine morning?
Going a little airing?”

“She comes out in search of you, but when I left her
side half an hour since she did not know that the ship
off the harbor was the one she sought.”

“You had news from Whitehaven, I suppose, last
night, eh?”

“Aye: express; saying that certain incendiaries had
landed there early that morning.”

“What?—what sort of men were they, did you say?”
said Paul, shaking his bonnet fiercely to one side of his
head, and coming close to the officer. “Pardon me,” he
added derisively, “I had forgot you are my guest. Israel,
see the unfortunate gentleman below, and his men forward.”

The Drake was now seen slowly coming out under a
light air, attended by five small pleasure-vessels, decorated
with flags and streamers, and full of gaily-dressed people,
whom motives similar to those which drew visitors to
the circus, had induced to embark on their adventurous
trip. But they little dreamed how nigh the desperate
enemy was.

“Drop the captured boat astern,” said Paul; “see
what effect that will have on those merry voyagers.”

No sooner was the empty boat described by the pleasure-vessels
than forthwith, surmising the truth, they with all
diligence turned about and re-entered the harbor. Shortly
after, alarm-smokes were seen extending along both sides
of the channel.

“They smoke us at last, Captain Paul,” said Israel.

“There will be more smoke yet before the day is done,”
replied Paul, gravely.

The wind was right under the land, the tide unfavorable.
The Drake worked out very slowly.

Meantime, like some fiery-heated duellist calling on urgent
business at frosty daybreak, and long kept waiting
at the door by the dilatoriness of his antagonist, shrinking
at the idea of getting up to be cut to pieces in the cold—
the Ranger, with a better breeze, impatiently tacked to
and fro in the channel. At last, when the English vessel
had fairly weathered the point, Paul, ranging ahead, courteously
led her forth, as a beau might a belle in a ballroom,
to mid-channel, and then suffered her to come
within hail.

“She is hoisting her colors now, sir,” said Israel.

“Give her the stars and stripes, then, my lad.”

Joyfully running to the locker, Israel attached the flag
to the halyards. The wind freshened. He stood elevated.
The bright flag blew around him, a glorified shroud, enveloping
him in its red ribbons and spangles, like upspringing
tongues, and sparkles of flame.

As the colors rose to their final perch, and streamed
in the air, Paul eyed them exultingly.

“I first hoisted that flag on an American ship, and was
the first among men to get it saluted. If I perish this
night, the name of Paul Jones shall live. Hark! they
hail us.”

“What ship are you?”

“Your enemy. Come on! What wants the fellow of
more prefaces and introductions?”

The sun was now calmly setting over the green land
of Ireland. The sky was serene, the sea smooth, the
wind just sufficient to waft the two vessels steadily and
gently. After the first firing and a little manœuvring,
the two ships glided on freely, side by side; in that mild
air exchanging their deadly broadsides, like two friendly
horsemen walking their steeds along a plain, chatting as
they go. After an hour of this running fight, the conversation
ended. The Drake struck. How changed from
the big craft of sixty short minutes before! She seemed
now, above deck, like a piece of wild western woodland
into which choppers had been. Her masts and yards
prostrate, and hanging in jack-straws; several of her
sails ballooning out, as they dragged in the sea, like
great lopped tops of foliage. The black hull and shattered

stumps of masts, galled and riddled, looked as if
gigantic woodpeckers had been tapping them.

The Drake was the larger ship; more cannon; more
men. Her loss in killed and wounded was far the greater.
Her brave captain and lieutenant were mortally wounded.

The former died as the prize was boarded, the latter
two days after.

It was twilight, the weather still severe. No cannonade,
naught that mad man can do, molests the stoical imperturbability
of Nature, when Nature chooses to be still.
This weather, holding on through the following day,
greatly facilitated the refitting of the ships. That done,
the two vessels, sailing round the north of Ireland, steered
towards Brest. They were repeatedly chased by English
cruisers, but safely reached their anchorage in the French
waters.

“A pretty fair four weeks' yachting, gentlemen,” said
Paul Jones, as the Ranger swung to her cable, while
some French officers boarded her. “I bring two travellers
with me, gentlemen,” he continued. “Allow me to
introduce you to my particular friend Israel Potter, late
of North America, and also to his Britannic Majesty's
ship Drake, late of Carrickfergus, Ireland.”

This cruise made loud fame for Paul, especially at the
court of France, whose king sent Paul a sword and a
medal. But poor Israel, who also had conquered a craft,
and all unaided too—what had he?