Adventure Magazine Cover — page 130: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SS ' “Why, the durned thing’s holler!” _ The laughter that greeted this historic re- mark died away at the nearer approach of Jonathan Gifford. Bearded captains, them- selves beginning to turn gray, could not help but feel something of the awe his lean, clean- shaven Yankee face and ice-blue eyes had in- stilled in their souls when they were midship- men under his command. To them he looked unreal in the straight-peaked cap, loose trousers’ and long frock coat of the sixties; Jonathan Gifford’s proper garb was the white silk stock- _ ings and tight knee-breeches, the cocked hat and the spike-tailed coat with its bullion epau- lets and its collar as high as the wearer’s ears, of the three decades that centered in the War of 1812. Though he had long since retired from the service and was now resurrected as the junior of most of the officers present, all in- stinctively saluted the erect old veteran as he joined the group. “Good afternoon, young gentlemen,” he -creaked affably. “I’ve been following the course of the immortal John Paul Jones—the best thing for any American naval officer to do when he’s in doubt and can’t seem to make any headway. Do any of you happen to know how he came to get command of the Bon Homme Richard?” There was a unanimous shaking of heads; the seamen of the Civil War were too busy . making history to remember the minuter de- tails of the past. “He was stranded at Brest, writing letters to French Ministers of Marine and American committeemen in Paris, for month after month, and nothing to show for it but a bellyful of windy promises. Then he happened to clap his eyes on a line in Benjamin Franklin’s ~ almanac— ““Tf you want anything done, go and do it yourself—otherwise, send.’ “Paul Jones took the hint and the first coach for Paris, where he soon got them to give him the old East Indiaman, the Duras. Out of gratitude to Franklin he changed her name to the Poor Richard—or the nearest he could come to it in French. ‘For the past year and more I’ve been writing from my home in New Bedford, offering my services to the government. Last week it came to me to do what Paul Jones had done. Down I came by train and bore straight for the Secretary of the Navy. Before the young whippersnappers in his office could head me off _ I was alongside his desk. | “What do you want?’ he asked through more whiskers than I’d ever supposed could grow on one human face at the same time. ‘“““T want a. fight,’ ” I told him. ‘I’ve been fifty years in the Navy, man and boy, and never been in action yet. They said I was too young to go to sea in 1812, and all I got in the Adventure =: aS Z ee aa ~ = - Mexican War was yellow fever off Vera on uz. Now I want a ship and a chance to do some- thing with her. Pil take anything that can = float and carry a gun.’ 3. “ ‘Very well, captain,’ said the Secretary afte he’d seen what manner of man I was. Vv you a vessel and put you on the blockade. = guess an eighteen-twelver ought to know how — ae to make prize-money out of the Britishers.’ > “So here I am, gentlemen, with my com=" | mission and orders in my pocket.”’ ase There was a chorus of congratulations. “What ship did he give you, captain?” asked several voices. “The gunboat Hoboken. sters acquainted with her? my time.” = “Why, yes, I’ve voyaged on her more thane’ once,” anid Hallett while the rest snorted more _ or less violently with suppressed emotion, — “She’s a very good craft indeed—for the legal blockade.” “Just what d’ye mean by that—the egal blockade?” demanded Jonathan Gifford, sensing — a joke at his own expense and glaring his Any of you young- She’s new since 4 3 5 tts, f hes =P. Sige fiercest. Hallett, towering high above him, smiled benignly. He was having the time of his life, instructing and patronizing the master of his_ ie boyhood. = rt is like this, captain. The best way ioe xs uS to capture the fast British blockade-runners that have been slipping into the Southern ports _ with munitions and out again with cotton is to — intercept them on the open sea between our coast and Nassau. That has been.the run Re ground for our swiftest ships, like mine yonder.” HALLETT pointed to the trim sloop: of-war Plattsburg, lying in the Potomac ~ | with a red flag at her main, taking “aq afer her powder and shell from the lighter — moored alongside. The fleetest cruiser in the | whole United States Navy, she was worth com-_ = manding in those days when a richly laden — _ blockade-runner brought a small fortune in prize-money to her captors. Hallett command- ed her for two reasons: First, because he was a skilled and capable officer; and second, be- cause his wife’s uncle was a skilled and capable = politician. “Having a relationship by marriage with the Senate Committee on Foreign Affairs, the captain had become a wardroom and Navy | a authority on diplomacy and international aw “Johnny Bull’s been protesting that his ships aren’t lawful prizes and our blockade a real one unless we’ve got’something like a continuous line of craft all up and down the rebel coast. It isn’t enough to have a fleet off Charleston. and another off Mobile, and so on—the law sharks say we’ve got to nail ‘No Trespass’ signs along the whole fence. Otherwise whenI sight comichooks.ceta