Stories of Our Naval Heroes Part 2

CHAPTER III

BENEDICT ARNOLD, THE SOLDIER-SAILOR

A NOVEL FIGHT ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN

WAS it not a dreadful pity that Benedict Arnold should disgrace himself forever by becoming a traitor to his country? To think of his making himself the most despised of all Americans, when, if he had been true to his flag, he might have been ranked among our greatest heroes. For Arnold was one of the best and bravest fighters in Was.h.i.+ngton's army.

And he could fight as hard and well on water as on land, as you will learn when you read of what he did on Lake Champlain.

I am sure all my readers must know where this lake is, and how it stretches down in a long line from Canada far into New York State. Below Lake Champlain extends Lake George, and not very far from that is the Hudson River, which flows down to the City of New York.

If the British could only have held that line of water they would have cut the colonies in two, and in that way they might soon have brought the war to an end. This was what they tried to do in the fall of 1776, but they did not count on Arnold and his men.

Let us tell what brought this about. General Arnold and General Montgomery had marched through the wilderness to Quebec in the winter before. But there they met with bitter weather and deadly disease and death from cold and cannon. The brave Montgomery was killed, the daring Arnold fought in vain, and in the end the invading army was forced to march back--all that was left of it.

As the Americans went back, Sir Guy Carleton, the British commander, followed, and made his camp at St. John's, at the north end of Lake Champlain. The nearest American post was at Crown Point, far down towards the foot of the lake. Not far south of this, near the head of Lake George, was the famous old French fort Ticonderoga, which Arnold and Ethan Allen had captured from the British the year before. I tell you all this that you may know how the land lay. A glance at a good map will help.

I think it very likely that some of you may have visited those beautiful lakes, and seen the towns and villages on their sh.o.r.es, the handsome dwelling on their islands, and the broad roads along their banks; everything gay and smiling.

If you had been there in 1776 you would have seen a very different sight. Look right or left, east or west, nothing but a wilderness of trees would have met your eyes. As for roads, I fancy an Indian trail would have been the best to be found. And no man that wished to keep his scalp on his head would have thought of living on island or sh.o.r.e.

The only good road southward was the liquid one made by nature, and this road Carleton decided to take. He would build a strong fleet and carry his army down the lake, while the Indians that came with him could paddle downward in their canoes.

At this time there was not a vessel on the lakes, but Carleton worked hard, and soon had such a fleet as these waters had never seen. Three of his s.h.i.+ps were built in England in such a way that they could be taken to pieces, carried through the wilderness to St. John's, and there put together again. The smaller vessels were built on the spot, soldiers, sailors, and farmers all working on them.

It was well on in October before his task was finished. Then he had a fleet of twenty-five vessels in all, twenty of them being gunboats, but some of them quite large. Their crews numbered a thousand men, and they carried eighty-nine cannon.

You may well suppose that the Americans knew what was going on, and that they did not fold their hands and wait. That is not, and never was, the American way. If the British could build, so could the Yankees, and Benedict Arnold was ordered to build a fleet, and to have it ready for fighting the British when it would be needed.

Arnold had been at sea in his time and knew something of what he was about. His men were farmers who had taken up arms for their country, but he sent for a few s.h.i.+pbuilders from the coast and went to work with all his might.

When October came he had fifteen vessels afloat. There were two schooners and one sloop, the others being called galleys and gondolas--no better than large rowboats, with three to six guns each.

Arnold had about as many guns as Carleton, but they were smaller, and he had not nearly so many men to handle them. And his men were farmers instead of sailors, and knew no more about a cannon than about a king's crown. But the British s.h.i.+ps were manned by picked seamen from the wars.h.i.+ps in the St. Lawrence River, and had trained naval officers.

I fear if any of us had been in Arnold's place we would have wanted to go home. It looked like folly for him and his men to fight the British fleet with its skilled officers and sailors and its heavy guns. It was like meeting a raft of logs with one of chips.

But Arnold was not a man who stopped to count the cost when fighting was to be had. As soon as he was ready he set sail boldly up the lake, and on the morning of October 11, 1776, he drew up his little fleet across a narrow channel between Valcour Island and the west sh.o.r.e of the lake.

He knew the British would soon be down.

It was a fine, clear, cool morning, with a strong wind from the north, just the kind of day Carleton had been waiting for. So, soon after sunrise, his fleet came sweeping on past Valcour Island. But all the sailors saw was a thicket of green trees, and they had got well south of the island before they looked back and saw the American fleet.

Here was an ugly situation. It would never do to leave the Americans in their rear. Down went the helms, round swept the sails, out came the oars, and soon the British fleet was making a struggle against the wind which had seemed so fair a few minutes before. So strong was the breeze that ten o'clock had pa.s.sed before they reached the channel in which the Americans lay. Arnold came eagerly to meet them, with the _Royal Savage_, his largest vessel, and three of his gondolas. One of these, the _Congress_, he had made his flags.h.i.+p. Soon the waters of that quiet bay rang with the roar of cannon and the shouts of fighting men, and Arnold, having drawn the fire of the whole British fleet, was obliged to hurry back.

In doing so he met with a serious loss. The _Royal Savage_, pierced by a dozen b.a.l.l.s, ran ash.o.r.e on the island. As she could not be got off, the crew set her on fire and escaped to the woods. They might better have leaped into the lake, for the woods were full of Indians whom Carleton had sent ash.o.r.e; and to be a prisoner to Indians in those days was a terrible fate.

When he got back to his fleet, Arnold formed his line to meet the British, who came steadily on until within musket shot. Then a furious battle began, broadside meeting broadside, grape-shot and round-shot hurtling through the air, the thick smoke of the conflict drifting into the woodland, while from the forest came back flame and bullets as the Indians fought for their British friends.

Arnold, on the deck of the _Congress_, led in the thickest of the fight, handling his fleet as if he had been an admiral born, cheering the men at the guns, aiming and firing a gun at intervals himself, and not yielding a foot to the foe. Now and then a gun was fired at the Indians, forcing them to skip nimbly behind the trees.

For six long hours the battle kept up at close quarters. This is what Arnold says about it in few words: "At half-past twelve the engagement became general and very warm. Some of the enemy's s.h.i.+ps and all their gondolas beat and rowed up within musket shot of us. They continued a very hot fire with round and grape-shot until five o'clock, when they thought proper to retire to about six or seven hundred yards distance, and continued the fire till dark."

Hot as their fire was, they must have found that of the Americans hotter, for they went back out of range of the Yankee guns, but kept within range of their own.

Arnold's vessels were in a bad plight. Several of them were as full of holes as a pepper bottle, and one sank soon after the fight ended. But two of the British gunboats had been sunk and one blown up. The worst for the Americans was that nearly all their powder was gone. They could not fight an hour more.

Perilous as was the situation, Admiral Arnold was equal to it. The night came on dark and stormy, with a hard gale from the north. This was just what he wanted. Up came the anchors and away went the boats, one after the other in a long line, each showing a light to the vessel that followed, but hiding it from British eyes. In this way they slipped unseen through the British line, Arnold in the _Congress_ taking the post of danger in the rear.

When morning dawned the British lookouts gazed for the American fleet, it was nowhere to be seen. It had vanished in the night and now was ten miles down the lake, where it was drawn up near sh.o.r.e for repairs.

Two of the gondolas proved to be past mending, and were sunk. The others were patched up until they could be kept afloat without too much pumping, and the fleet started on, hoping to gain the shelter of Crown Point or Ticonderoga. The wind had changed to the south, and they had to take to their oars. This kept them back, but it gave the British quite as much trouble. That day pa.s.sed away and the next day, Friday, dawned before the pursuers came in sight. And now a chase began with oar and sail, and continued till noon, when Crown Point was still some leagues away. By this time the British cannon b.a.l.l.s began to reach the American boats, and the tired rowers were forced to turn to their guns and fight.

Never did sea-hero fight more gallantly than did the soldier Arnold that day. The first British broadside ruined the gondola _Was.h.i.+ngton_ and forced it to surrender. But Arnold in the little _Congress_ drew up beside the _Inflexible_, a 300-ton s.h.i.+p with eighteen 12-pounder cannon, and fought the s.h.i.+p with his little gunboat as if they had been of equal strength. Inspired by his example, the other boats fought as bravely.

Not until a third of his men were dead and his boat a mere wreck did he give up the fight. But not to surrender--no such thought came into his mind. By his order the galleys were run ash.o.r.e in a creek nearby and there set on fire. With the three guns of the shattered _Congress_ he covered their retreat until their crews were safe on sh.o.r.e.

Then, reckless of the British shot, he ran the _Congress_ ash.o.r.e also and stood guard at her stern while the crew set her on fire. The men by his orders sought the sh.o.r.e, but Arnold stood by his flag to the last, not leaving until the flames had such hold that he was sure no Briton's hand could strike his flag. It would float until it went up in flames.

Then he sprang into the water, waded ash.o.r.e, and joined his men, who greeted him with cheers.

The savages were swarming in the woods, eager for scalps, but Arnold was not troubled by fear of them. Forming his men into order, he marched them through the woods, and before night reached safety at Crown Point.

Thus ended one of the n.o.blest fights the inland waters of America ever saw. The British were victors, though at a heavy cost. Arnold had fought until his fleet was annihilated; and not in vain. Carleton sailed back to St. John's and made his way to Canada. He had seen enough of Yankee pluck. Thus Arnold, though defeated, gained by his valor the fruit of victory, for the British gave up their plan of holding the lake.

CHAPTER IV

CAPTAIN PAUL JONES

THE GREATEST OF AMERICA'S NAVAL HEROES

ONCE upon a time there lived in Scotland a poor gardener named John Paul, who had a little son to whom he gave the same name. The rich man's garden that the father took care of was close by the sea, and little John Paul came to love blue water so much that he spent most of his time near it, and longed to be a sailor.

He lived in his father's cottage near the sea until he was twelve years old. Then he was put to work in a big town on the other side of the Solway Firth. This town was called Whitehaven. It was a very busy place, and s.h.i.+ps and sailors were there in such numbers that the little fellow, who had been put in a store, greatly liked to go down to the docks and talk with the seamen who had been in so many different lands and seas and who could tell him all about the wonderful and curious places they had seen, and about their adventures on the great oceans they had sailed over.

In the end the boy made up his mind to go to sea. He studied all about s.h.i.+ps and how to sail them. He read all the books he could get, and often, when other boys were asleep or in mischief, he was learning from the books he read many things that helped him when he grew older. At last he had his wish. When he was only thirteen years old, he was put as a sailor boy on a s.h.i.+p called the _Friends.h.i.+p_.

The vessel was bound to Virginia, in America, for a cargo of tobacco, and the young sailor greatly enjoyed the voyage and was especially delighted with the new country across the sea. He wished he could live in America, and hoped some day to go there again.

When this first voyage was over, he returned to Whitehaven and went back to the store. But soon after, the merchant who owned the store failed in business, and the boy was out of a place and had to look out for himself. This time he became a real seaman. For many years he served as a common sailor. He proved such a good one that before he was twenty years old he was a captain. This was how he became one: While the s.h.i.+p in which he was sailing was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, a terrible fever broke out. The captain died. The mate, who comes next to the captain, died; all of the sailors were sick, and some of them died.

There was no one who knew about sailing such a big vessel, except young John Paul. So he took command and sailed the s.h.i.+p into port without an accident, and the owners were so glad that they made the young sailor captain of the s.h.i.+p which he had saved for them.

John Paul was not the only one of his family who loved America. He had a brother who had crossed the ocean and was living in Virginia, on the banks of the Rappahannock River. This was the same river beside which George Was.h.i.+ngton lived when a boy. The young captain visited his brother several times while he was sailing on his voyages, and he liked the country so much that, when his brother died, he gave up being a sailor for a while, and went to live on his brother's farm.

When he became a farmer, he changed his name to Jones. Why he did so n.o.body knows. But he ever after bore the name of John Paul Jones. He made this one of the best known names in the history of the seas.