Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1928-10-28
BY PHILLIPS RUSSELL.

Y UST how John Paul Jones' an un-
known Scotchman, made the
leap from the pines of inland
~ Virginia to the quarterback OF
one of the first American fighting
ships has never been adequately ex-
planned.
In TITS, he arrives in Philadelphia
from his remote refuge to find the grave
old town astir with armed men, politics,
and buzzing tongues. Though the
Staider population is certain that good
King George III will compel the die
hardS in the British Parliament to
abate their oppressive taxes and, what
is more desirable, their strangle-hold on
Colonial trade by sea, there are actu-
ally hot-heads who are shouting for a
lasting break with the mother country.
War has already begun.
In Massachusetts the battle of Lex
ington has been fought; in Virginia a
meeting has been held at Fredericks-
burg where the participants pledged
themselves if necessary Ito reasonable,
and, by force of arms, to defend the
laws, the liberties, and the rights of
this or any sister colony from unjust
and wicked invasion" and in North
Carolina the inhabitants of Mecklen-
burg County have adopted an outright
declaration of independence.
In Philadelphia the Continental Con-
greSs is holding its second session. The
marine committee is organizing a navy.
It decides to choose commander-i
chief, four captains, and list of first.
second and third lieutenantS. A man OF
whom nobody has ever heard-John
Paul Jones, then 20 years old-is ap-
pointed senior Lieutenant.
Within few years he has become
world famous. A French duchess, a
true grand dame calls him the untitled
knight of the sea" "the wrathful Achil-
les of the Ocean," and 1.-The Bayard
afioat." Benjamin Franklin says he is
not a man but nor'wester. The
French find him 'un poete ses heures."
To the English he is pirate, renegade
and blackguard.
HERE he comes now, striding down
\ the wharf toward his ship with
that firm, supple gait which has been
compared to a panthers. He carries
himself erect, with the air of man who
thinks we'll Of himself and does not care
who knows it. He is dressed in the
uniform of an American naval captain,
in accordance with the regulations of
the marine committee; three-cornered
hat, blue coat with red facings, slaShed
cuffs, high stock collar from which
flows cascade of delicate white ruff1es.
fiat yellow buttons, scarlet WatStcoat
edged with lace, blue breecheS, white
stockings, and low, soft-leather shoes.
Everywhere he is famed for the neat
ness, almost daintinesS, of his dress.
Even his buttonholes are embroidered
with gold thread. Foreign diplomats
who have received him in the expecta-
ton of beholding coarse pirate with
hair on chest, a burly fellow with an
chors tattooed on his arms, have been
disconnected when confronted with a
courtier Of the waves, bearing himself
ing in a resonant baritone language
reminding them family of something
read in leather-bound classics.
From his slender legs his body stems
gracefully outward to pair of power
full shoulders, roomy chest, and swart
and thickish neck. Moving with pro-
nounced dignity, he appears to be for
midable figure; and yet there is only 5
feet Z inches of him. His mouth Is
soft, though little hard at the ends.
His hands and feet are small like a
girls. AS he approaches the ship it is
seen that his powdered hair, tied with a
queue at the back, is really dark
brown, and that his straight-gaZing,
restless black eyes are really dark gray,
framed between jutting cheekbones.
Now his foot strikes the gangWay. A
bos'n's whistle pipes the side. Boys"
some in whiskers, spring forward and
form rigid lane. Lieutenants respect
fully move to the other side of the deck
The marine sentry, dressed in British
red instead of Continental green, stands
at attention. All hands uncover their
heads in silence as the captain steps
on board. He salutes the quarterback,
but, according to an ancient tradition,
ignores "the people" The men of the
crew have no existence until they are
dead; their names appear only on cas-
ualty lists.
AS he crosses the deck, the captains
glance cuts the air around him, but finds
naught to criticize; his ship is, as usual,
a sweet" one. Once his cabin door is
closed behind him, officers relax little,
but "the people" resume their duties
with a double BUSINESS, for John Paul
Jones is once more on board his ship.
While he is seated in his solitary
cabin, those men of his crew who are
not on duty exchange snatches of gossip
about him; for man so mysterious In
his origin and movements as John Paul
Jones Is lawful food for tongues. A
whispered story that he was really
christened John Paul is once more
brought up: certain people say they
know 1t to be fact. Why, then, did he
add the name Of Jones? And when?
And where?
Follows comment, mixed with derisive
laughter about his recent order that the
sun be saluted twice each day, morning
and evening. He's queer 'un. Bit of
poet. Mebbe so; but he can lick his
weight in wildcats In the middle of
party at Norfolk, didn't he fair knock
drunken English lieutenant's head of
for saying something low about Ameri-
can women? Didn't he once, in
French cafe, walk up to spy twice his
size slap his face, and challenge him to
come out and fightp Yes chimes in
second voice, and he's a seaman, too
Didn't he drive the Ranger across the
Atlantic from Portsmouth to Nantes in
- squally days with the ship a-layin