that after the battle was over they
picked up more than twelve hundred solid shot of different sizes, and
many thirteen-inch shells. Most of the shells that fell within the
fort fell into a large pool of water, which extinguished their fuses,
thus robbing them of their power for evil.

In his report of this battle, Admiral Parker fell into a queer error.
He reports that a large party of men entering the fort met a man going
out, whom they straightway hanged to a neighboring tree, in full view
of the fleet. From this the admiral concluded that there was an
incipient mutiny in the fort, and the ringleader was hanged as an
example. Col. Moultrie, however, explained this by stating that the
man hanging in the tree was simply the coat of a soldier, which had
been carried away by a cannon-shot, and left hanging in the branches.

CHAPTER VI.

THE CAREER OF PAUL JONES. -- IN COMMAND OF THE "PROVIDENCE."
-- CAPTURE OF THE "MELLISH." -- EXPLOITS WITH THE "ALFRED."
-- IN COMMAND OF THE "RANGER." -- SWEEPING THE ENGLISH
CHANNEL. -- THE DESCENT UPON WHITEHAVEN.

We have already spoken of the farcical affair between the fleet under
Ezekiel Hopkins and the English frigate "Glasgow," in which the
English vessel, by superior seamanship, and taking advantage of the
blunders of the Americans, escaped capture. The primary result of this
battle was to cause the dismissal from the service of Hopkins. But his
dismissal led to the advancement of a young naval officer, whose name
became one of the most glorious in American naval annals, and whose
fame as a skilful seaman has not been tarnished by the hand of time.

[Illustration: Captain John Paul Jones Quelling The Mob At White
Haven, Scotland, Nov., 1777.]

At the time of the escape of the "Glasgow," there was serving upon the
"Alfred" a young lieutenant, by name John Paul Jones. Jones was a
Scotchman. His rightful name was John Paul; but for some reason, never
fully understood, he had assumed the surname of Jones, and his record
under the name of Paul Jones forms one of the most glorious chapters
of American naval history. When given a lieutenant's commission in the
colonial navy, Jones was twenty-nine years old. From the day when a
lad of thirteen years he shipped for his first voyage, he had spent
his life on the ocean. He had served on peaceful merchantmen, and
in the less peaceful, but at that time equally respectable,
slave-trade. A small inheritance