|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 68
An officer of the Richard, seeing the mass of prisoners delirious with
sudden liberty and fright, pricked them with his sword to the pumps,
thus keeping the ship afloat by the very blunder which had promised to
have been fatal. The vessels now blazed so in the rigging that both
parties desisted from hostilities to subdue the common foe.
When some faint order was again restored upon the Richard her chances of
victory increased, while those of the English, driven under cover,
proportionably waned. Early in the contest, Paul, with his own hand, had
brought one of his largest guns to bear against the enemy's mainmast.
That shot had hit. The mast now plainly tottered. Nevertheless, it
seemed as if, in this fight, neither party could be victor. Mutual
obliteration from the face of the waters seemed the only natural sequel
to hostilities like these. It is, therefore, honor to him as a man, and
not reproach to him as an officer, that, to stay such carnage, Captain
Pearson, of the Serapis, with his own hands hauled down his colors. But
just as an officer from the Richard swung himself on board the Serapis,
and accosted the English captain, the first lieutenant of the Serapis
came up from below inquiring whether the Richard had struck, since her
fire had ceased.
So equal was the conflict that, even after the surrender, it could be,
and was, a question to one of the warriors engaged (who had not happened
to see the English flag hauled down) whether the Serapis had struck to
the Richard, or the Richard to the Serapis. Nay, while the Richard's
officer was still amicably conversing with the English captain, a
midshipman of the Richard, in act of following his superior on board the
surrendered vessel, was run through the thigh by a pike in the hand of
an ignorant boarder of the Serapis. While, equally ignorant, the
cannons below deck were still thundering away at the nominal conqueror
from the batteries of the nominally conquered ship.
But though the Serapis had submitted, there were two misanthropical foes
on board the Richard which would not so easily succumb--fire and water.
All night the victors were engaged in suppressing the flames. Not until
daylight were the flames got under; but though the pumps were kept
continually going, the water in the hold still gained. A few hours after
sunrise the Richard was deserted for the Serapis and the other vessels
of the squadron of Paul. About ten o'clock the Richard, gorged with
slaughter, wallowed heavily, gave a long roll, and blasted by tornadoes
of sulphur, slowly sunk, like Gomorrah, out of sight.
The loss of life in the two ships was about equal; one-half of the total
number of those engaged being either killed or wounded.
In view of this battle one may ask--What separates the enlightened man
from the savage? Is civilization a thing distinct, or is it an advanced
stage of barbarism?
CHAPTER XX.
THE SHUTTLE.
For a time back, across the otherwise blue-jean career of Israel, Paul
Jones flits and re-flits like a crimson thread. One more brief
intermingling of it, and to the plain old homespun we return.
The battle won, the squadron started for the Texel, where they arrived
in safety. Omitting all mention of intervening harassments, suffice it,
that after some months of inaction as to anything of a warlike nature,
Paul and Israel (both, from different motives, eager to return to
America) sailed for that country in the armed ship Ariel, Paul as
commander, Israel as quartermaster.
Two weeks out, they encountered by night a frigate-like craft, supposed
to be an enemy. The vessels came within hail, both showing English
colors, with purposes of mutual deception, affecting to belong to the
English Navy. For an hour, through their speaking trumpets, the captains
equivocally conversed. A very reserved, adroit, hoodwinking,
statesman-like conversation, indeed. At last, professing some little
incredulity as to the truthfulness of the stranger's statement, Paul
intimated a desire that he should put out a boat and come on board to
show his commission, to which the stranger very affably replied, that
unfortunately his boat was exceedingly leaky. With equal politeness,
Paul begged him to consider the danger attending a refusal, which
rejoinder nettled the other, who suddenly retorted that he would answer
for twenty guns, and that both himself and men were knock-down
Englishmen. Upon this, Paul said that he would allow him exactly five
minutes for a sober, second thought. That brief period passed, Paul,
hoisting the American colors, ran close under the other ship's stern,
and engaged her. It was about eight o'clock at night that this strange
quarrel was picked in the middle of the ocean. Why cannot men be
peaceable on that great common? Or does nature in those fierce
night-brawlers, the billows, set mankind but a sorry example?
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|