Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1903-07-23


best point Of sailing and our best wind
too. We can't be going less than 10
knots" sa;d the captain, looking critic
ally over the bows at the water racing
alongside.
Il can almost make ont the name on
Lcr stern now with the naked eye re.
piiod the other. staring hard ahead
through the drift and spray.
'Have you glass there, Mr..
O'Neill?' asked the captain.
Yes, sir; here it is answered that
gentleman, handing him long, old
fashioned, cumbrouS brass telescope.
which he at once adjusted and focused
on the ship they were chasing.
"Ah" said the elder of the two speak
ers, Il small, slender man, standing
lightly poised on the top@allant fore
castle with the CARELESS confidence of a
veteran seaman as he examined the
chase through the glass which the tail
or and younger officer handed him. Il
can read il quite plainly with this. The
Maid Maidstone, a trader evidently,
Ms see no gun ports nor anything that
bctokens an armament" lie ran the
ttbfN VI NV Si'tH, llit' Nsl' II Oti'A anu
handed it back. rcmarking "At this
rate we shall have her in Il short time"
"She ID fast one, though replied
the other. Its no small task for any
thing ahoat to show us her heels for SO
long time. Let me SOC; it was six bells
in the morning watch when we raised
her was it not sir?'
"Ies. It's rather remarkable going
Tor a merchant vessel, but we have the
heels of her and will get her soon UNI
less she goes to the bottom on those
reefs round the Lands End yondor.
Its nasty place to be tearing through
in that wild way he added thought
fully.
"Shall I give her shot sir, from the
starboard bow chaseri"
Not just yet; it would he useless. as
we are not quite within range, and she
would pay no heed; besides, we shall
have her without it, and It's hardly
worth while wasting a shot upon her
ut present"
The brief conversation took place for
ward upon the forccastle of the Ameri-
can Continental ship Ranger. between
her captain, John Paul Jones, and her
first lieutenant, one Barry O'Neill, mar
uuis de RichomOnt. sometime officer in
the navy of his most Christian majesty
the king of France. O'Neill was the
son Of marshal of France, an Irish
gentleman of high birth and position,
who had gone out as a mere lad with
the young Stuart in the -, and whose
property had been confiscated and him
self attained and sentenced to death
for high treason. Fortunately he had
escaped 10 the continent. and had en-
tered the service of the king of France,
where. through his extraordinary abil-
itY and courage, coupled with several
brilliant opportunities he had made and
cIiOycd, he had risen to exalted station
and great wealth. He had always con-
tinued more or less of IA conspirator in
the cause of the royal Stuarts. however,
and his son, following in his footsteps,
had been mixed up in every reasonable
Jacohite enterprise which had been
undertaken, and was under the same
ban of the British throne as was his
father.
When Paul Jones in the historic ship
Ranger came to Farce O'Neill, moved
by spirit Of adventure and his ever
present desire to strike blow at King
George, received permission to enter
the American service temporarily, with
Keveral other French officers. The
Ranger was already some days out on
her successful cruise, when, early on
II morning in the month Of April in the
year ITS. they had sighted a ship try
ing to beat around the Lands End.
Sail had at once been made in chase,
and the stranger was now almost with
In the grasp of the American pursuers.
1T seems to me, SIR said NELL to
the captain, that unless she goes
about presently she won't weather that
long reef over beyond her, where those
breakers are
Aye" said Jones, "and if she goes
about, she's ours, and lie paused
Significantly.
"If not, sir?"
"She's Gods" added the captain SOL
EMMY.
The wind was blowing at a furious
rate. The Ranger had single reef in
her topsails, with her tOpgallant sails
set above them. The maStS We're
straning and bucklng Ike bound 81
ants, and the ship quivcrcd and trem-
bled like smitten harp string as she
pitched and plunged in the heavy seas.
The wind roaring through the iron
taut rigging and the wild spray dash
Eng over the sides rendered cleversa-
ton almost impossible The motley