How the Flag Became Old Glory Part 3

Before the _Ranger_ was launched, Jones was informed that he was to be the bearer of most important news to France. This news was the daily expected surrender of Burgoyne, the surrender that was so powerfully to affect the result of the war for independence. As to his fitness for conveying such a message, Lafayette attested thus: "To captivate the French fancy, Captain Jones possesses, far beyond any other officer in your service, that peculiar aplomb, grace of manner, charm of person, and dash of character," a compliment better understood when it is remembered that an alliance with France against Great Britain was then sought by Congress.

The _Ranger_ lay in the harbor of Portsmouth, New Hamps.h.i.+re, ready for sailing, and Jones _with his own hands raised the flag to the masthead, the first American flag to fly over a man-of-war_. Jones had already brought credit to the American navy by the capture of prizes in American waters; now he was to serve his country's interests off the coast of England.

The tang of autumn was in the air when he set sail for France.

Fulfilling his mission at Nantes, Jones set out for Brest, where the fleet of France was anch.o.r.ed. Would the Stars and Stripes, the symbol of the New Republic across the sea, be recognized by salute? The question was in every mind aboard s.h.i.+ps, and the answer eagerly awaited in the United States. A note couched in the diplomatic and elegant terms of which Paul Jones was master, was sent by him to the admiral of the French fleet, inquiring whether or not the flag would receive recognition. "It will," came back the answer. With that the _Ranger glided gracefully through the fleet of s.h.i.+ps; and Old Glory, in all the radiance of her new birth and coloring, waved response from the masthead to her first salute from European powers_. We, even after the long lapse of intervening years, feel still the thrill of her exultation.

Two months later the alliance between America and France was signed. The d.u.c.h.ess de Chartres became greatly interested in the young naval officer; and, having it in her power to advance his interests, she one day at a dinner presented him with a fine Louis Quintze watch that had belonged to her grandfather, saying, "He hated the English; and I love the Americans."

Paul Jones' response to the gift was as graceful as had been the presentation. "May it please your Royal Highness, if fortune should favor me at sea, I will some day lay an English frigate at your feet."

Two years later he did this and more.

France had promised Jones a new s.h.i.+p better suited to his capabilities than the _Ranger_. But diplomatic affairs between nations move slowly, and in this case the waiting became tedious. Jones had exhausted the pleasures of court circles to which he had been admitted and he longed for the life of the sea. He finally preferred his request directly to the king and shortly afterward was given, not the great sea monster he had been led to expect, but an insignificant looking craft called _Le Duras_. In compliment to Dr. Franklin's magazine of the name and in humorous comment of the s.h.i.+p's appearance, he renamed it the _Bon Homme Richard_, meaning the _Poor Richard_. But with the _Poor Richard_, as with the human form, the spirit which animated it was the controlling power; and the valor of Paul Jones was to send the name of the _Bon Homme Richard_ ringing down through the ages of all time.

As Captain Jones of the _Ranger_, he had captured the _Drake_, in a big sea fight, and surprised England; and now, as Commodore Jones, he was to win distinction as the greatest of naval heroes.

Off the English coast at Flamborough Head, he sighted an English fleet.

The flags.h.i.+p was the _Serapis_, in command of Captain Pearson. As the _Bon Homme Richard_ approached the _Serapis_, Captain Pearson raised his gla.s.s and remarked: "That is probably Paul Jones. If so, there is work ahead."

The salute affectionate between the vessels, after the formal hail, was a broadside. Then they fought, fought like fiends incarnate, clinched in each other's arms, in the death grapple, fought without flinching and, be it said, to the glory of the American navy and the credit of the English. The _Bon Homme_ was on fire and sinking. Captain Pearson, noting the situation, called, "Have you struck your colors?"

Above the smoke and din of the conflict, Jones' voice answered, "I have just begun to fight, Sir."

He then lashed his s.h.i.+p to the _Serapis_, and stood, himself, at the guns.

"Shall we be quitting, Jamie?" he said in banter to a Scotchman at his side.

"There is still a shot in the locker, Sir," replied the Scot.

"I thought," said Captain Pearson afterward, "Jones' answer to me meant mere bravado. But I soon perceived that it was the defiance of a man desperate enough, if he could not conquer, to sink with his s.h.i.+p."

The _Bon Homme Richard's_ sides were shot away; her prisoners loose; her decks strewn with the dead and dying; the _Alliance_, her companion s.h.i.+p, had turned traitor and fired into her. When the fight seemed well-nigh lost, a well-directed blow brought disaster to the _Serapis_, and she hauled down her colors. As Captain Pearson surrendered his sword, Commodore Jones remarked, "You have fought heroically, Sir. I trust your sovereign may suitably reward you." To this Captain Pearson returned no answer.

The wonderful combat on the sea became the talk of all Europe. Paul Jones' name was honored wherever spoken. Contrary to court etiquette, he was invited to occupy apartments in the palace of the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess de Chartres. While he was there, a banquet was tendered him. During the progress of the dining, he called an attendant to bring from his apartment a leather case. This when it was opened disclosed a sword.

Turning to the d.u.c.h.ess, the commodore asked if she recalled his promise to lay a frigate at her feet one day? "Your Royal Highness perceives," he went on, "the impossibility of keeping my promise in kind. The English frigate proved to be a 44 on two decks; the best I can do toward keeping my word of two years ago, is to place in your hands the sword of the brave officer who commanded the English 44. I have the honor to surrender to the loveliest woman the sword surrendered to me by one of the bravest of men,--the sword of Captain Richard Pearson, of his Britannic Majesty's late s.h.i.+p the _Serapis_."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I HAVE THE HONOR TO SURRENDER TO THE LOVELIEST WOMAN THE SWORD SURRENDERED TO ME BY ONE OF THE BRAVEST OF MEN."]

The Royal Order of Military Merit with the t.i.tle of Chevalier and the gift of a gold-mounted sword were conferred upon him by the king of France. Upon returning to America, he was given the rank of Head of the Navy.

Remarkable as was the career of Paul Jones, the winds did not always set in his favor. Many times was his life bark driven through the waters of bitter disappointment. But "all that he was, and all that he did, and all that he knew, was the result of self-help to a degree unexampled in the histories of great men."

The flag of the _Ranger_, saluted by the French fleet, was transferred by Jones to the _Bon Homme Richard_, and, says he, in his journal as given by Buell, "was left flying when we abandoned her; the very last vestige mortal ever saw of the _Bon Homme Richard_ was the defiant waving of her unconquered and unstricken flag as she went down. And as I had given them the good old s.h.i.+p for their sepulcher, I now bequeathed to my immortal dead the Flag they had so desperately defended, for their winding sheet." Here was: "the only flag," says one, "flying at the bottom of the sea, over the only s.h.i.+p that ever sunk in victory."[1]

And everywhere, The slender graceful spars Poise aloft in the air And at the masthead White, blue, and red, A flag unfolds, the Stripes and Stars.

Ah, when the wanderers, lonely, friendless, In foreign harbors shall behold That flag unrolled, 'Twill be as a friendly hand Stretched out from native land, Filling his heart with memories Sweet and endless.

LONGFELLOW.

[1] In Preble's "History of the Flags of the United States," it is given that when the _Bon Homme Richard_ was sinking the flag was transferred to the _Serapis_, and was afterward presented by the Marine Committee to James Bayard Stafford of the _Bon Homme Richard_ for meritorious services.

WHERE THE STARS AND STRIPES UNFURLED

BURGOYNE was in the enemy's country. He was cut off from reenforcements.

His very efforts to separate the colonies now recoiled upon his own armies. He could neither advance nor retreat with safety. For two weeks the opposing armies had stood opposite each other without fire. In desperation the British general now hazarded another battle. After a sustained and terrible struggle Burgoyne went down in defeat. His best and bravest officers were lost and seven hundred of his men were killed.

General Frazer, beloved by every British soldier and respected by those opposed to him, had fallen at the hands of one of Morgan's riflemen, of whom it was said, they could strike an apple in mid-air and shoot out every seed.

On the American side Benedict Arnold, although divested of his command, had ridden to the front of his old regiment and became "the inspiring genius of the battle." He charged right into the British lines and received a severe wound. He received also the disapproval of General Gates and the reprimand of Congress. The battle raged furiously until nightfall, when the proud Briton who had boasted "the British never retreat" fled under cover of the darkness. He gained the heights of Saratoga, where he found himself completely hemmed in by the Americans.

With but three days' rations between his army and starvation, he was forced to surrender. While he was holding consultation with his officers concerning this, a cannon ball pa.s.sed over the table at which they were sitting, and, no doubt, hastened their conclusions.

Colonel Kingston was detailed to confer with the American general on articles of capitulation. He was conducted blindfolded to General Gates and with him arranged the formalities. The morning of October 17, seventeen hundred and ninety-one British subjects became prisoners of war. They marched to Fort Hardy on the banks of the Hudson and, in the presence of Generals Morgan, Wilkerson, and Lewis, laid down their arms. The eyes of many of the men were suffused with tears; others among them stamped upon their muskets in anger.

The colors had been preserved to the British army through the foresight of General Riedesel, who had handed them to his wife for safe-keeping.

To the credit of the victorious Americans, it is said, they showed no disrespect to the defeated foe. "General Gates," wrote Lieutenant Ansbury, one of the captured officers, "revealed exceeding n.o.bleness and generosity toward the captives, commanding the troops to wheel round the instant arms were grounded. And he, himself, drew down the curtains of the carriage in which he was sitting, as the troops pa.s.sed him in returning."

For the formal surrender of General Burgoyne to General Gates a marquee had been erected near the latter's old quarters. To this came the British general and staff in full court dress. General Gates appeared in plain clothes with nothing to indicate his rank. As the two generals advanced to greet each other, General Burgoyne removed his hat and extending his sword, said, "The fortunes of war, General Gates, have made me your prisoner." General Gates, not to be outdone in polite address, returned the sword and replied, "I shall always be ready to bear testimony that it has not been through any fault of your Excellency."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SURRENDER OF GENERAL BURGOYNE.]

The generals and their officers then sat down to a table improvised of boards laid across barrels and dined together most amicably, but on very frugal fare. General Burgoyne took occasion to compliment the discipline of the American army. He then proposed a toast to General Was.h.i.+ngton.

General Gates then drank to the health of the king. High above the marquee the Stars and Stripes waved gloriously in triumph of the day of first formal military unfurling. The turning point of the war of the Revolution was come, this October day, 1777.

THE SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE

October 17, 1777

BROTHERS, this spot is holy! Look around!

Before us flows our memory's sacred river, Whose banks are Freedom's shrines. This gra.s.sy mound, The altar, on whose height the Mighty Giver Gave Independence to our country; when, Thanks to its brave, enduring, patient men, The invading host was brought to bay and laid Beneath "Old Glory's" new-born folds, the blade, The brazen thunder-throats, the pomp of war, And England's yoke, broken forevermore.

You, on this spot,--thanks to our gracious G.o.d, Where last in conscious arrogance it trod, Defied, as captives, Burgoyne's conquered horde; Below, their general yielded up his sword; There, to our flag, bowed England's battle-torn; Where now we stand, the United States was born.

GENERAL JOHN WATTS DE PEYSTER.

THE YOKE OF BRITAIN BROKEN

THE final scene in this stupendous drama of American Freedom was enacted in Virginia.

In September, 1781, Was.h.i.+ngton began a three weeks' siege against Yorktown, held by the British under Lord Cornwallis. Finding himself there completely surrounded by both land and water, Cornwallis was forced to surrender.