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Page 52
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.
About three hundred of these vessels now lay, all crowded together, in
one dense mob, at Whitehaven. The tide was out. They lay completely
helpless, clear of water, and grounded. They were sooty in hue. Their
black yards were deeply canted, like spears, to avoid collision. The
three hundred grimy hulls lay wallowing in the mud, like a herd of
hippopotami asleep in the alluvium of the Nile. Their sailless, raking
masts, and canted yards, resembled a forest of fish-spears thrust into
those same hippopotamus hides. Partly flanking one side of the grounded
fleet was a fort, whose batteries were raised from the beach. On a
little strip of this beach, at the base of the fort, lay a number of
small rusty guns, dismounted, heaped together in disorder, as a litter
of dogs. Above them projected the mounted cannon.
Paul landed in his own boat at the foot of this fort. He dispatched the
other boat to the north side of the haven, with orders to fire the
shipping there. Leaving two men at the beach, he then proceeded to get
possession of the fort.
"Hold on to the bucket, and give me your shoulder," said he to Israel.
Using Israel for a ladder, in a trice he scaled the wall. The bucket and
the men followed. He led the way softly to the guard-house, burst in,
and bound the sentinels in their sleep. Then arranging his force,
ordered four men to spike the cannon there.
"Now, Israel, your bucket, and follow me to the other fort."
The two went alone about a quarter of a mile.
"Captain Paul," said Israel, on the way, "can we two manage the
sentinels?"
"There are none in the fort we go to."
"You know all about the place, Captain?"
"Pretty well informed on that subject, I believe. Come along. Yes, lad,
I am tolerably well acquainted with Whitehaven. And this morning intend
that Whitehaven shall have a slight inkling of _me_. Come on. Here we
are."
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