Molly Elliot Seawell

Molly Elliot Seawell

Summary

Portrait of Molly Elliot Seawell Molly Elliot Seawell Paul Jones

A poor Scotch gardener’s son, shipping as a common sailor boy because there were so many mouths to feed at home—coming, at thirteen, to this new country that I have learned to love so well—left a modest fortune, and rising to the command of a ship before I was twenty, I determined to cast my fate with these people, to whom I owe all the kindness I ever knew, and I was proud to be among the first to raise my arm in the defense of these colonies against tyranny. All those I loved as a child in Scotland are dead, and all that is now dear to me is in my adopted country.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Molly Elliot Seawell Molly Elliot Seawell Paul Jones

The Drake’s fore and main topsail yards were completely shot away, the main topgallant mast and mizzen gaff hanging up and down the mast, her jib hanging over her lee into the water, her sails and rigging in rags, and she had been hulled repeatedly. Twice had her ensign been shot away, and twice the gallant British tars had hoisted it, but just as the sun was sinking, when the captain and first lieutenant of the Drake and forty of her officers and men lay killed or wounded upon her decks, the ensign was dragged down from the shattered spar to which it hung, and a cry for “Quarter! quarter!”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Molly Elliot Seawell Molly Elliot Seawell Paul Jones

But as the jib boom of the Serapis touched the mizzen rigging of the Bon Homme Richard, Paul Jones himself, without waiting for the hawser, seizing the ropes that hung to the bowsprit, with his own hand lashed the two ships together. In another moment Stacy came running up with a hawser. In the midst of the uproar, the smoke, the flame, and the confusion, Stacy bungled with his work, and an oath burst from his lips.
“Don’t swear, Mr. Stacy,” said Paul Jones. “In another moment we may all be in eternity, and this is no time for blaspheming our Maker.”
Source: Gutenberg

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