Читать книгу Paul Jones онлайн

15 страница из 28

“But, Mr. Jones,” said he to Paul Jones, who had brought the pilot aboard, “how can we answer for the faithfulness of these pilots? They may cheerfully take the risk of being lost along with us rather than put us in a position to take the town.”

“Quite true, sir,” answered Paul Jones, “but if you will give me leave, I will undertake, with this pilot, to carry the ship to a safe anchorage, and I will answer for it with my commission if I do not take her safely.”

“Very well, then,” replied the commodore; “if you will assume the responsibility, I will trust the ship.”

It had then fallen dead calm, and all through the long spring day they waited for a puff of wind. The short twilight of the tropics was upon them before the wind sprang up again. At the first breeze the Alfred set every sail that would draw, and, followed by the Columbus, headed for the key. The sky was a deep rose-red in the west, and overhead of a pale and luminous green. The full moon was rising, round and yellow, over the town, and a few solitary stars twinkled in the vast expanse of the sky. Paul Jones, followed by the pilot, went aloft to the foretopmast head, where a clear view of everything was to be had. In the deep and breathless silence every occasional sound could be heard, and scarcely a word was uttered except the orders, as the ship ran down the chain of islands, with a fair wind, in the moonlit night. Bill Green was at the wheel, while three or four officers, stationed at various points along the deck, repeated the orders called out in Paul Jones’s clear and penetrating voice, so that no mistake might be made. A man on the port side and another on the starboard kept the lead going constantly. Commodore Hopkins and Captain Saltonstall paced the deck together.