As evening fell, the great promontory of St. Bee's Head, with its lighthouse, not far from Whitehaven, was in distant sight. But the wind became so light, that Paul could not work his ship in close enough at an hour as early as intended. His purpose had been to make the descent and retire ere break of day. But though this intention was frustrated, he did not renounce his plan, for the present would be his last opportunity.

As the night wore on, and the ship with a very light wind glided nigher and nigher the mark, Paul called upon Israel to produce his bucket for final inspection. Thinking some of the spikes too_large, he had them filed down a little. He saw to the lanterns and combustibles. Like Peter the Great, he went into the smallest details, while still possessing a genius competent to plan the aggregate. But oversee as one may, it is impossible to guard against carelessness in subordinates. One's sharp eyes can't see behind one's back. It will yet be noted that an important omission was made in the preparations for Whitehaven.

The town contained, at that period, a population of some six or seven thousand inhabitants, defended by forts.

At midnight, Paul Jones, Israel Potter, and twenty-nine others, rowed in two boats to attack the six or seven thousand inhabitants of Whitehaven. There was a long way to pull. This was done in perfect silence. Not a sound was heard except the oars turning in the rowlocks. Nothing was seen except the two lighthouses of the harbor. Through the stilness and the darkness, the two deep-laden boats swam into the haven, like two mysterious whales from the Arctic Sea. As they reached the outer pier, the men saw each other's faces. The day was dawning. The riggers and other artisans of the shipping would before very long be astir. No matter.

The great staple exported from Whitehaven was then, and still is, coal. The town is surrounded by mines; the town is built on mines; its ships moor over mines. The mines honeycomb the land in all directions, and extend in galleries of grottoes for two miles under the sea. By the falling in of the more ancient collieries, numerous houses have been swallowed, as if by an earthquake; and a consternation spread like that of Lisbon, in 1755. So insecure and treacherous was the site of the place now about to be assailed by a desperado, nursed, like the coal, in its vitals.

VOL. IV.-32

Now, sailing on the Thames, nigh its mouth, of fair days, when the wind is favorable for inward bound craft, the stranger will sometimes see processions of vessels, all of similar size and rig, stretching for miles and miles, like a long string of horses tied two and two to a rope and driven to market. These are colliers going to London with coal.

About three hundred of these vessels now lay, all crowded together, in one dense mob, at Whitehaven. The tide was out. They lay completely helpless, clear of water, and grounded. They were sooty in hue. Their black yards were deeply_canted, like spears, to avoid collision. The three hundred grimy hulls lay wallowing in the mud, like a herd of hippopotami asleep in the alluvium of the Nile. Their sailless, raking masts, and canted yards, resembled a forest of fish-spears thrust into those same hippopotamus hides. Partly flanking one side of the grounded fleet was a fort, whose batteries were raised from the beach. On a little strip of this beach, at the base of the fort, lay a number of small rusty guns, dismounted, heaped together in disorder, as a litter of dogs. Above them projected the mounted

cannon.

Paul landed in his own boat at the foot of this fort. He dispatched the other boat to the north side of the haven, with orders to fire the shipping there. Leaving two men at the beach, he then proceeded to get possession of the fort.

"Hold on to the bucket, and give me your shoulder," said he to Israel.

Using Israel for a ladder, in a trice he scaled the wall. The bucket and the men followed. He led the way softly to the guard-house, burst in, and bound the sentinels in their sleep. Then arranging his force, ordered four men to spike the cannon there.

"Now, Israel, your bucket, and follow me to the other fort."

The two went alone about a quarter of a mile.

"Captain Paul," said Israel, on the way," can we two manage the sentinels ?" "There are none in the fort we go to," "You know all about the place, captain ?"

tarily stood for an instant gazing upon the scene. The gray light of the dawn showed the crowded houses and thronged ships with a haggard distinctness.

66

Spike and hammer, lad;-so,-now follow me along, as I go, and give me a spike for every cannon. I'll tongue-tie the thunderers. Speak no more!" and he spiked the first gun. "Be a mute," and he spiked the second. "Dumfounder thee," and he spiked the third. And so, on, and on, and on; Israel following him with the bucket, like a footman, or some charitable gentleman with a basket of alms.

There, it is done. D'ye see the fire yet, lad, from the south? I don't."

Not a spark, Captain. But daysparks come on in the east."

"Forked flames into the hounds! What are they about? Quick, let us back to the first fort; perhaps something has happened, and they are there."

Sure enough, on their return from spiking the cannon Paul and Israel found the other boat back; the crew in confusion; their lantern having burnt out at the very instant they wanted it. By a singular fatality the other lantern, belonging to Paul's boat, was likewise extinguished. No tinder-box had been brought. They had no matches but sulphur matches. Loco-focos where not

then known.

The day came on apace."

66 Captain Paul," said the lieutenant of the second boat, "it is madness to stay longer. See!" and he pointed to the town, now plainly discernible in the grey light.

66 Traitor, or coward!" howled_Paul, "how came the lanterns out? Israel, my lion, now prove your blood. Get mé a light-but one spark!"

"Has any man here a bit of pipe and tobacco in his pocket?" said Israel.

A sailor quickly produced an old stump of a pipe, with tobacco.

"That will do;" and Israel hurried away towards the town.

"What will the loon do with the pipe?" said one. "And where goes he?" cried another.

"Let him alone," said Paul.

The invader now disposed his whole force so as to retreat at an instant's warning. Meantime, the hardy Israel, long experienced in all sorts of shifts and emergencies, boldly ventured to procure, from some inhabitant of Whitehaven, a spark to kindle all Whitehaven's habitations in flames.

There was a lonely house standing somewhat disjointed from the town; some poor laborer's abode. Rapping at the door, Israel, pipe in mouth, begged the inmates for a light for his tobacco.

"What the devil," roared a voice from within; "knock up a man this time of night, to light your pipe? Begone!"

"You are lazy this morning, my friend," replied Israel; "it is daylight. Quick, give me a light. Don't you know your old friend? Shame! open the door."

In a moment a sleepy fellow appeared, let down the bar, and Israel, stalking into the dim room, piloted himself straight to the fire-place, raked away the cinders, lighted his tobacco, and vanished.

All was done in a flash. The man, stupid with sleep, had looked on bewildered. He reeled to the door; but dodging behind a pile of bricks, Israel had already hurried himself out of sight.

"Well done, my lion," was the hail he received from Paul, who, during his absence, had mustered as many pipes as possible, in order to communicate and multiply the fire.

Both boats now pulled to a favorable point of the principal pier of the harbor, crowded close up to a part of which lay one wing of the colliers.

The men began to murmur at persisting in an attempt impossible to be concealed much longer. They were afraid to venture on board the grim colliers, and go groping down into their hulls to fire them. It seemed like a voluntary entrance into dungeons and death.

"Follow me, all of you but ten by the boats," said Paul, without noticing their murmurs. "And now, to put an end to all future burnings in America, by_one mighty conflagration of shipping in England. Come on, lads! Pipes and matches in the van!"

He would have distributed the men so as simultaneously to fire different ships at different points, were it not that the lateness of the hour rendered such a course insanely hazardous. Stationing his party in front of one of the windward colliers, Paul and Israel sprang on board.

In a twinkling, they had broken open a boatswain's locker, and, with great bunches of oakum, fine and dry as tinder, had leaped into the steerage. Here, while Paul made a blaze, Israel ran to collect the tar-pots, which being presently

poured on the burning matches, oakum and wood, soon increased the flame.

"It is not a sure thing yet," said Paul, we must have a barrel of tar."

They searched about until they found one: knocked out the head and bottom, and stood it like a martyr in the midst of the flames. They then retreated up the forward hatchway, while volumes of smoke were belched from the after one. Not till this moment did Paul hear the cries of his men, warning him that the inhabitants were not only actually astir, but crowds were on their way to the pier.

As he sprang out of the smoke towards the rail of the collier, he saw the sun risen, with thousands of the people. Individuals hurried close to the burning vessel. Leaping to the ground, Paul, bidding his men stand fast, ran to their front, and, advancing about thirty feet, presented his own pistol at now tumultuous Whitehaven.

Those who had rushed to extinguish what they had deemed but an accidental fire, were now paralyzed into idiotic inaction at the defiance of the incendiary; thinking him some sudden pirate or fiend dropped down from the moon.

While Paul thus stood guarding the incipient conflagration, Israel, without a weapon, dashed crazily towards the mob on the shore.

"Come back, come back," cried Paul. "Not till I start these sheep, as their own wolves many a time started me!"

As he rushed bare-headed, like a madman, towards the crowd, the panic spread. They fled from unarmed Israel, further than they had from the pistol of Paul.

The flames now catching the rigging and spiralling around the masts, the whole ship burned at one end of the harbor, while the sun, an hour high, burned, at the other. Alarm and amazement, not sleep, now ruled the world. It was time to retreat.

They re-embarked without opposition, first releasing a few prisoners, as the boats could not carry them.

Just as Israel was leaping into the

boat, he saw the man at whose house he had procured the fire, staring like a simpleton at him.

"That was good seed you gave me," said Israel, "6 see what a yield;" pointing to the flames. He then dropped into the boat, leaving only Paul on the pier.

The men cried to their commander, conjuring him not to linger.

But Paul remained for several moments, confronting in silence the clamors of the mob beyond, and waving his solitary hand, like a disdainful tomahawk, towards the surrounding eminences, also covered with the affrighted inhabitants.

When the assailants had rowed pretty well off, the English rushed in great numbers to their forts, but only to find their cannon no better than so much iron in

the ore. At length, however, they began to fire, having either brought down some ship's guns, or else mounted the rusty old dogs lying at the foot of the first fort.

In their eagerness they fired with no discretion. The shot fell short; they did not the slightest damage.

Paul's men laughed aloud, and fired their pistols in the air.

Not a splinter was made, not a drop of blood spilled throughout the affair. The intentional harmlessness of the result, as to human life, was only equalled by the desperate courage of the deed. It formed, doubtless, one feature of the compassionate contempt of Paul towards the town, that he took such paternal care of their lives and limbs.

Had it been possible to have landed a few hours earlier, not a ship nor a house could have escaped. But it was the lesson, not the loss, that told. As it was, enough damage had been done to demonstrate-as Paul had declared to the wise man in Paris-that the disasters caused by the wanton fires and assaults on the American coasts, could be easily brought home to the enemy's doors. Though, indeed, if the retaliators were headed by Paul Jones, the satisfaction would not be equal to the insult, being abated by the magnanimity of a chivalrous, however unprincipled a foe.

STEDINGK remained at the French

Court seven years after his return from America; seven years of almost uninterrupted luxury and charm, whose influence upon most men would have been effeminating. Moreover, he became as much a Frenchman as a Swede; and as we shall presently see, an unconquerable longing for France, although never tainting his loyalty, stood sometimes in the way of a graceful, ready decision in accepting Swedish honors and trusts, which the partiality of his sovereign heaped upon him. Gustavus well understood Stedingk's capacities. They were indeed of a high and brilliant order; but there had been a music in the parting words of Marie Antoinette, which remained long ringing in his ear, and he rose among the most prominent Swedes of the time, almost in spite of himself. Had he not possessed a nicer sense of honor and of loyal duty than some of his contemporaries, and had the Bourbons prospered in their legitimacy, we should have traced his career in a direction different from that in which we are now to follow him. Yielding at last to the wishes and to the counsel of Gustavus, he tore himself from the petit soupers of the queen, and from all those blandishments of her court, which, from his letters, must, indeed, have been seductive.

"Remember, Monsieur de Stedingk," said Marie Antoinette, bidding him farewell,-"remember to depend upon me, and that no misfortune shall befall you!"-Poor queen! Six years after uttering this omnipotent assurance, she was dragged to the scaffold, through every vilest degradation.

Stedingk left France in 1787; and did not again revisit the scenes he loved so well, until, in command of the Swedish army and ambassador of the Swedish king, he repaired to Paris, to sign the gene

ral peace of 1814. Meantime, however, his fortunes were to lead through scenes equally momentous; he was to achieve victories, and sign treaties, which have made marks of greater meaning in Swedish annals, although less conspicuous upon the page of Europe. We must therefore return to 1787, and to Gustavus the Third, who was meditating his dishonorable aggressions upon an unoffending, unsuspecting neighbor. Stedingk had left the king almost an idol of his countrymen. He returned to find him detested. War was believed necessary to stimulate loyalty; and Russia, at war with the Porte, and her Polish frontier lined with troops (for Kosciusko was yet at large)-Russia, weak for the moment, was to be the victim. Without condescending to ordinary formalities, Gustavus secretly ordered his commanding-general in Finland to cross the frontier. The order was secret, because the constitution of Sweden forbade the king to make offensive war without the consent of the Diet. bad faith of Gustavus was practised therefore no less against Russia than against his own people, and the immediate consequence was revolt in his army, and entire defection in the House of Nobles. Thirty of the latter were arrested, and the submission of the remainder was only restored by a powerful demonstration on the part of the burghers and peasants. A story was current that the king had stooped to a trick to deceive his subjects;

The

-that in order to persuade them that the war was a defensive war, he caused a troop of his own cavalry to dress themselves in Cossack costumes (supplied from his own fatal opera house) and to make a false attack upon his advanced guard. The story is questionable, but it served the turn of the conspirators, and chimes in singularly with the theatrical destiny

of the king. Whatever may be the truth of the anecdote, it is beyond question that a stratagem of some sort was resorted to.*

Stedingk rode at the head of his dragoons, second in command of the northern division. His superior officer, Hastfer, fell into disgrace, and Stedingk saved the campaign from ruin. Gustavus found

himself beset with enemies from every quarter, and grateful for the trifling success achieved hy his favorite, we find him at various times writing ejaculations like these: A thousand thanks for your officers and their bravery. For yourself, my dear Stedingk, I embrace you with all my heart. You well know my friendship for you, and your glorious day at Porosalmi redoubles it. It is with extreme pleasure that I name you Grand Cross of the Sword;-you are the first of my soldiers to receive it. I add a pension warrant for a thousand dollars, but I pray you keep this a secret. Í would give you more, "mais le Béarnais est pauvre, although he has a good heart."

A little later again:-"Major Enchjelm arrived yesterday, my dear Stedingk, bringing your glorious news; news no longer of unlucky Stedingk, but of Stedingk the victorious, enriching my arsenal with trophies. To make you Major-General after such exploits is less to recompense you than to give you means to reap new glory. We have sung Te Deum for your victory, and all Sweden will sing it. But you are much too good and gallant, to give your prisoners their baggage. This is

not the way the Russians themselves behave. They burn down my people's houses; they fire upon my flags of truce; they wantonly lay waste our fields, and their empress refuses to call me king.

*

* sk It is time then to lay aside this knightly gallantry. But, after all, I should probably have done the like. If the Russians do not deserve it, it is none the less becoming in us.'

Again, and yet later:-"You ask par

Björnstierna, Tom. 1, p. 101.

+ Letter to Stedingk from the king (July, 14, 1790):

don for attacking the enemy with inferior forces; you know well, my dear Stedingk, that your actions render such apology extremely superfluous."

These were the current rewards of indefatigable and arduous exertion, as well as of consummate gallantry and skill; but the war was so faithless, and its results so little corresponding with its promise, that Gustavus wrote, as it were, in a penury of glory. His nobles revolted. Whole regiments went over to Catherine. The Danes invaded his southern shores; and a campaign, which no one doubted was to result in the fall of St. Petersburg, and the conquest of Livonia, was wellnigh confined to a few gallant, but profitless exploits of Stedingk.

At length, however, in the following year, Gustavus rallied; and, after three years of mortification, the contest was ended by a victory whose trophies were then unrivalled in the annals of war. The Swedish fleet had been driven from the gulf of Viborg, and the king, goaded to desperation, ordered his admiral (the brother of our Stedingk), to turn and face the pursuers. He declared his resolution to retreat no further. At Swensksund he exclaimed, "You shall give me a monument of victory or a tomb." The famous battle immediately followed. The Russians were much superior in force, but the trophies of the victorious Swedes were no less than fifty-three vessels of war, fourteen hundred guns, three hundred officers, and six thousand men, prisoners of war.t The best result of the victory, however, was peace. Gustavus, on leaving Stockholm, had publicly threatened to destroy every monument in Russia save one; he would spare, he said, the statue of Peter the Great, only to engrave his own naine upon the pedestal. He returned, grateful that a lucky act of desperation enabled him again to look his people in the face.

The Empress Catherine, whom Stedingk was presently to know so well, confessed

do.

592 guns.

1088 do.