p204  XV.

Munitions and Mutineers

Greeted at L'Orient, on March 9, 1781, with word that the Marquis de Castries, French Minister of Marine, was expected that night, John Laurens delayed his journey Parisward to the morrow. He did dash off a note to Franklin, remarking that the brief interval between debarkation and departure of the post allowed him "only a moment to apprise Your Excellency of my arrival at this place."

While the colonel wrote, probably at a desk in the counting house of Moylan and Gourlade, hard by the water-front, John Barry questioned young James Moylan as to public goods for America.That subject related closely to the Captain's orders for the return voyage. The Board of Admiralty had instructed him to hold the frigate available at L'Orient for four or five weeks to receive public stores on board or to convoy storeships to Philadelphia. Should neither stores nor storeships be ready by then, he had permission to make a cruise.

Moylan, acting Continental agent in the port, gave him a quick résumé of commercial matters. The only public goods for Congress were being loaded on the Marquis de La­fayette, an old 1200 ton French Indiaman chartered by Jonathan Williams, Dr. Franklin's nephew. They consisted of great quantities of munitions and uniforms, the value of the cargo totalling more than a million livres. Williams was at Nantes, and had secured permission from M. de Castries for the vessel to join the first convoy going out with supplies for the French army in Rhode Island. Moylan understood such a convoy would leave Brest in about a week, and expected the Marquis de La­fayette would be ready to sail with other vessels ordered from L'Orient to join it. A visit to the dock confirmed the agent's optimism. The big merchantman was swarming with  p205 men trundling bales on board. More out of curiosity than from any other motive, Barry and Laurens examined some of the clothing and "found the Cloth Good."

Polite Capitanº de Galatheau greeted his visitors and pointed with pride to his ship's armament of forty guns — 18 and 6 pounders. He was a bit boastful, implying that, if necessary, the Marquis de La­fayette could fight her way single-handed to America.

"I would advise you, Captain, to go to Brest and sail with the convoy," was Barry's dry suggestion as the visit concluded.

Thereafter, he and Laurens paid a formal call upon M. de Thevenard, that Intendant whose praise of the Alliance is already in the record. Before returning to the frigate for the night, the Captain arranged with Moylan and Gourlade for condemnation procedure against the prize schooner and for provisions for the return voyage. The colonel informed the partners that bills for the frigate's disbursements forwarded to his attention at Paris would be promptly paid — a necessary assurance as securing Continental reimbursement was a problem for merchants.

By early morning sunlight streaming through the cabin windows, on March 10, Barry composed a letter to Dr. Franklin. He was glad to report his arrival with Colonel Laurens, who would be the bearer of his missive. In outlining his orders from the Board of Admiralty, the Captain pointed out that it was essential the Alliance be cleaned and fitted immediately for sea. She was a fine frigate, but Congress's expectations of "great things" from her were frustrated, in some measure, "by being obliged to Clean her bottom so often." If she could be copper bottomed at L'Orient, it would render the Continent a great service and prove eventually an act of economy.

"I can assure your Excellency that it will cost in this place one third as much to Clean her as it will to Copper her," he argued, "and every time she is cleaned in America it will Cost full as much besides the hauling Ships along side of Wharfs, the pilfering & Stealing out of them Amount to double the Sum."

Would Dr. Franklin weigh the suggestion seriously and advise him? He was troubling his Excellency because he knew of no one in authority at L'Orient. The new consul, William Palfrey,  p206 to whom he had been consigned, had not arrived, and probably had been lost or taken. A true surmise, as Palfrey and the ship bearing him to France vanished after clearing the American coast in December, 1780.

Ordering out the barge, Barry set off for L'Orient at eight o'clock that morning. On shore, Laurens was in a quandary. M. de Castries had not arrived. Torn between the urgency of reaching Paris and desire to press upon the Minister of Marine the necessity of French naval dominance on the American coast, the colonel finally decided to wait another twenty-four hours. He gave it up on the morning of March 11, and Barry saw the young envoy and his retinue off in a coach hired for the occasion.

For several days, the Captain engaged in a fruitless quest for American seamen. None were to be found in L'Orient, nor across the harbor in Port Louis. He heard of fifty on board a French privateer at Nantes, and suspected others were concealed on French merchantmen. In his dilemma, he appealed to Franklin.

How badly he needed trustworthy hands is evidenced by what was happening on the Alliance. She was, by now, anchored off Port Louis, where, on March 12, she had saluted the Intendant with thirteen guns. Seaman Martin Crooks was put in irons, on March 13, "for Gitting drunk & Abusing the Officers, & Daming the Congress." A few hours later, Landsman Daniel Dunnewell joined Crooks in the brig, having gone on a spree and laid open the skull of Seaman Hugh Mallady with a club. Several days later, Quarter-gunner Patrick McDaniel was confined "for Gitting Drunk & Fighting." Barry had the culprits brought before him. The contrite McDaniel was forgiven, but not Crooks nor Dunnewell. With the crew mustered to witness the punishment, the pair were given twelve stripes each at the gangway, and sent to their duty. The lash was an effective way, in those days, to deal with misbehavior.

 p207  The Captain secured condemnation of the privateer Alert and sold her. Distribution of prize money, he reported, pleased the crew, "as it was more than they ever received from the Alliance before." Perhaps this accounts for Matthew Parke's eulogy of his commanding officer. To Franklin, in a plea for the prize shares due them from the previous cruise under Landais, the marine captain wrote, that "we are exceedingly happy in our present Commander who is disposed to do everything in his power for the Honor of the United States & his Officers & Men." Parke's enthusiasm, as events will show, did not survive his services on the Alliance.

That polite Captain de Galatheau had been causing James Moylan concern. Instead of expediting the loading and departure of the Marquis de La­fayette, he had, for some inexplicable reason, loaned his men to help cargo other merchantmen destined to join the Brest convoy. Barry's reaction, when Moylan consulted him, was that "the Capt Shewd Constantly a Reluctance in preparing to Sail." At any rate, the Marquis de La­fayette remained behind, when, on March 16, the other ships cleared for Brest. On top of this came a letter from De Galatheau addressed jointly to Barry and Moylan. His crew had been returned to him, he announced, and he was making all possible haste to leave for Brest.

"That is nothing but rank effrontery," Moylan said in exasperation. "His ship is not ready to sail and he knows it."

"Can you have my provisions and powder on board in a week?" the Captain asked. It was Sunday, March 18. "If you can," he continued, "I'll give this gentleman a better escort than he bargains for."

Moylan promised and fulfilled his promise. On March 23 with full water-casks, the magazine stored with well-dried powder, and most of the provisions received, Barry addressed a terse letter to De Galatheau. Enclosed the recipient would  p208 find a paragraph from the Captain's instructions from the Board of Admiralty, directing him to convoy storeships to Philadelphia.

The French captain took it with ill grace. He would comply, but he insinuated that it would have been far better had the Alliance convoyed him to Brest as he had first suggested. He ignored entirely the fact that even as he wrote, on March 23, he was not ready to sail. If by Monday, March 26, the day set by Barry for departure, the winds changed and caused delay, the expense of such delay would be a heavy burden upon his owner, and one which, in De Galatheau's opinion, said owner should not be obliged to assume.

John Barry's decision to sail had been taken upon receipt of a letter from Franklin. The latter had no word from Congress regarding the Alliance, had no authority to order her sheathed in copper, and did not propose to issue directions of any nature. Behind this letter was the good Doctor's admission, although not to Barry, that every time he meddled in marine matters he became involved in disputes. The Captain was keenly disappointed by Franklin's attitude. He replied, on March 23, that his Excellency's letter "leaves me intirely in the dark." As he could find nobody in authority, he had determined, he wrote, to act solely upon the Board of Admiralty orders, take the Marquis de La­fayette under convoy, and clear for Philadelphia as soon as he could get ready.

He gave passage to three gentlemen. One was young Samuel Bradford, son of John Bradford, Continental agent at Boston. As Samuel was a medical student, Barry rated him as a surgeon and enlisted him for the return voyage. The others were Captain Samuel Gerrish, of Portsmouth, and a Mr. Trent, who wanted "to serve as a volunteer in the American army."

Contrary winds, on Monday, March 26, held the Alliance and Marquis de La­fayette in port, although the latter moved  p209 out into the stream. Tuesday dawned, cloudy and with fresh breezes from the east. Barry ordered a gun fired, to apprise De Galatheau to be in readiness, and hoisted a signal for a pilot. Then he went ashore, leaving Lieutenant Hacker to get "the Ship in Order Redy for Sea."

To Franklin, he sent a last minute note, with a list of the prisoners taken in the privateer Alert. He was sorry he could not wait for any dispatches the Doctor might be forwarding to L'Orient, but the captain of the Marquis de La­fayette seemed determined to sail, "and she being of such Consequence to the United States that I think I am in Duty bound to Convoy her Safe if in my Power." Barry, having long before despaired of getting Franklin's help in securing American seamen, did not refer to that subject in his farewell note. His own efforts had procured only four Americans, found on French vessels in the harbor.

In the late afternoon, he returned to the Alliance. All boats save the barge were hoisted in. Moorings were cast off. On the point of sailing, the wind veered sharply around to the northward. The Captain gave over the attempt and moored again. A signal from shore induced him to return in the barge to L'Orient. Moylan greeted him at the wharf and introduced a companion, Jonathan Williams, just arrived from Nantes. Franklin's nephew had hastened up to L'Orient, disturbed over the delayed sailing of his merchantman.

Williams explained his worries. On board the Marquis de La­fayette were 450 tons of public stores, consisting of 100 tons of saltpetre, twenty‑six iron 18‑pounders, 15,000 gun barrels, some sole and harness leather, uniforms for 10,000 men and cloth for 6,000 more uniforms. The ship seemed to be deeply laden as she lay in the stream — more deeply than the 450 tons of public goods warranted. He had suspicions that someone had shipped a lot of freight not shown on her cockets. Congress had been advised to watch for fraud, but there was always possibility of letters miscarrying. Would Barry keep an eye on De Galatheau enroute; have an examination made when the vessel unloaded? Goods shipped clandestinely could be held until freight was paid. As the Captain also had suspicions, he agreed to the request, and, by midnight, was again on the Alliance.

The wind continued strong from the northeast during March  p210 28, so the French pilot would not venture to tackle the narrow pass leading to sea. Amid continual rain and some hail, Barry ordered the topgallant yards taken down and the barge hoisted in. By late afternoon, the wind had lessened and had swung around a little more from the eastward. The pilot agreed the pass could now be negotiated. The Captain hoisted a red and white pennant to the mizzen-peak — the signal to get under way previously arranged with De Galatheau.

"The Marquis did not Comply with the Signal," Barry later reported, "but remain'd at her moorings."

Shortly after dawn on March 29, he again gave her the signal for sailing. Again it was ignored. He fumed thereafter until about noon, hoping to see some signs of activity on the big merchantman. For the third time, early in the afternoon, the red and white pennant rose to the Alliance's mizzen-peak. De Galatheau seemed oblivious of its purport.

"Hoist out the barge," Barry ordered. "I'll find out why he doesn't comply."

The Alliance's boat swung alongside the Marquis de La­fayette, and the Captain went up the gangway ladder with fire in his eye. What he said to the French captain is not in the record. That he said aplenty, we deduce from later comments by Captain William Robeson, of South Carolina, a mariner who had consigned his trunk home under Barry's care, but had elected to entrust his own safety to the merchantman. Results were apparent immediately. De Galatheau was under way by the time Barry had gotten back to the frigate, and the barge had been hoisted in.

With fresh breezes whipping up the roadstead, the Alliance slipped her moorings and stood out after the Marquis de La­fayette. Toward dusk, the pilot was set ashore, and the frigate again made sail, letting a reef out of each topsail, unbending the cables, and setting up the back stays. Darkness closed in and with it a commotion and splash astern, followed by the cry, "Man overboard." Barry hove the ship to, but there was no sign of the unfortunate seaman, one Patrick Duggan, who had fallen to his death when a tail tackle gave way. They resumed sail, and, at seven o'clock, the Isle of Groix hove off to the southeast about eight miles. With a light in the poop  p211 lantern for the guidance of the convoy, the frigate ploughed south by west through a squally, rainy night.

On the berth deck, consternation had seized the little group of British seamen whose plans for a mutiny had taken on fresh purpose with the departure from L'Orient. Duggan, who had been lost overboard, had been one of the prime movers. To their superstitious souls, his death seemed an ill‑omened warning. The faint-hearted demanded they give over the attempt. Threats and pleas by the three remaining ringleaders could not restore their courage. The round-robin, which they had signed with much bluster on the outward cruise, now seemed a death warrant. They clamored for its destruction. Before morning, its pieces had fluttered overboard. With it, they were sure, went all evidence of the conspiracy. The mutineers breathed easier, but their confidence was short-lived.

On the afternoon of March 30, an Indian, one of the forecastle men, came aft with a request to speak to the Captain. To Barry he unfolded as much of the story as he knew. There was a plot afoot to take the frigate. Three men had invited him to join in the venture. He named them — John Crawford, a quarter-master, and Patrick Shelden and William McElhaney, able seamen.

With characteristic vigor, Barry acted at lightning speed. Officers off duty were assembled in the cabin, heard the tale, and were instructed to assemble and arm all men in whom they could have confidence. Captain Parke and his lieutenants, with a strong marine detail, descended to the berth deck and seized Crawford, Shelden and McElhaney. That night, while the three ringleaders lay below in irons, the Captain and those whose loyalty was assured, formed an armed guard on deck.

Boatswains piped all hands at dawn of March 31. Sleepy tars came up the ladder from the berth deck to see a cordon of armed men stretched across the main deck forward of the mainmast. Marines lined the quarter-deck, their muskets resting on the rail.

"Keep forward, there," Lieutenant Hacker warned. "Stay on the forecastle deck and the booms 'til we're done."

Tense and fearful, the crew watched as the three ringleaders were brought up to the quarter-deck and relieved of their irons.

 p212  "You are charged with mutiny," Barry told them. "Confess and name your accomplices, and your punishment will be lighter."

Sullen silence greeted him. He eyed the trio calmly, and motioned to a boatswain. Stalwart hands seized Crawford. In a trice, stripped to the waist, he dangled by his thumbs to the mizzen-stay. The cat-o‑nine-tails whistled through the air and coiled around his bare back. Again and again it was laid on, until blood spurted from the welts, and his cries rose to shrieks of agony.

How many times the lash rose and fell before Crawford named any accomplices, the record does not show. John Kessler, who gave more details than anyone, contented himself with saying that all three "underwent a very severe whipping before either would make any confession." We know the morning was well along before the lash made them speak. Barry's journal entry states, "At 11 found out a number more that were Concer[ned] in the Mutiny."

As Crawford, Shelden or McElhaney moaned out the name of an accomplice, Lieutenant Hacker called that conspirator to the quarter-deck. There he was stripped and tied to the ridge rope of the netting. Eight men were seized and whipped in that manner, among them being Martin Crooks, the seaman who had gotten drunk and damned the Congress a few weeks earlier and Hugh Mallady, whose head had been cut open in a drunken brawl.

Thus John Barry purged his ship. Brutal it seems in the telling, yet justified by all the law of the sea in the Eighteenth Century. The mutineers were desperate men. Had they succeeded, by their own confessions, they would have killed every officer in the middle-watch — the time originally selected to seize the ship — save Lieutenant Patrick Fletcher. He had been chosen to navigate the Alliance to some port in Ireland, "or on failure to be destroyed." Actually, the Captain showed forbearance toward these wretches, probably because, as their stories were whipped from them, he learned that the conspiracy had been abandoned the night before.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon of March 31, when the punishment ceased. The ringleaders were again placed in irons and sent below. The other eight, jackets covering their lacerated  p213 backs, were lined up before the Captain. Barry gave them a stern lecture, secured their solemn declarations to conduct themselves well, and permitted them to return to duty.

So ended that event­ful month of March, 1781. With the Marquis de La­fayette still in company, the Alliance that night slipped from the Bay of Biscay out into the Atlantic. Poorly manned, three mutineers in irons in the brig, young Samuel Bradford, acting surgeon, under arrest in his cabin for an offense not disclosed, and a tricky French captain for a consort — such was John Barry's portion as the frigate continued on a homeward cruise that would make history.

* * *

April dawned auspiciously — clear weather and pleasant breezes — but Barry did not like the way the Alliance labored in a fairly heavy swell. Off to leeward, the Marquis de La­fayette, despite her age, seemed to make better going of it. The big Indiaman maintained a position about a mile and a half distant, and was about that far off, when, through a cloudy dawn on April 2, in latitude 45° 6′ north, and longitude 12° 3′ west, a masthead lookout reported two sail in the northwest. The Captain ordered pursuit, signaling his consort to join in chase.

Much to everybody's surprise, the supposed quarry evinced no inclination to flee. Instead, both vessels bore down upon the Alliance. With the crew at quarters, Barry permitted the oncoming enemy — for they were discernible as a very large and a very small brig under British colors — to stand as close as they desired. He sensed they were under the impression the frigate was a merchantman, and he did nothing to disillusion them. The brigs discovered their mistake when too late to avoid an encounter. Between the devil and the deep blue sea, in the most literal sense, they veered to leeward, passed the Alliance within easy gunshot, omitted the usual amenities of a hail, and let the frigate have their broadsides as they drew abreast.

The smaller brig, in the van, fled eastward. The other had no such opportunity. She kept to her course, but, as she received Barry's return broadside, there was not a man on her deck. Gun crews had fled below with their first discharge. For the second time the Alliance's 12‑pounders poured in their fire, the "Double fould" broadsides, as the Captain termed them, cutting  p214 away most of the brig's rigging. She struck, heaving to amid a tangle of rope and canvas.

Mad as a hornet at the brig's unprecedented action, "firing at us with no intention of bravely fighting," Barry signaled the Marquis de La­fayette, still aloof to leeward, to take charge of her while he pursued the smaller enemy. Bow guns popping away, the Alliance soon overhauled the other brig, whose flag came down on the run. Barry surveyed the damage from the single broadside of the heavier brig, and found, to his disgust, that it was considerable. A 12‑pound shot had passed through the fore-topmast steering sail boom and lodged in the foreyard, inflicting a dangerous wound. Numerous other balls had cut away a main and two fore shrouds, the main topmast stay and back stay, and severed several other lines. There were shot holes in the main and fore sails, the main topmast steering sail and the mizzen staysail. That one broadside had been decidedly unpleasant, but, fortunately, being aimed high, had not injured a soul on board.

Through an afternoon which continued fair, the Captain was employed with repairs to the Alliance, taking possession of the prize, and fitting a jury rig on the larger brig. She was the Mars out of Guernsey, captain John Proveaux, launched less than two years before, and considered "the fastest Sailing Privateer in Europe." Of 350 tons burthen and with a shelter deck, she had a length of •eighty‑six feet and a beam of •twenty-nine feet. Her armament consisted of twenty 12‑pounders, two 6‑pounders and twelve 4‑pound cohorns. Her crew totalled 111 men. The latter were brought on board the Alliance, and "all put in irons without distinction," Barry considering them "as not meriting other treatment" because of their conduct in firing and then refusing to fight. There were four exceptions, as a quartet of British seamen forswore allegiance to their king and entered on board the frigate. Lieutenant Patrick Fletcher, with Master's mate Thomas Bowen and fifteen hands transferred to the Mars as a prize crew. Fletcher's instructions were to keep with the frigate, but, in case of unavoidable separation, to make for Philadelphia.

The smaller brig was the Minerva, out of the Isle of Jersey, Captain John Lecoster, mounting eight 4‑pounders and carrying fifty-five men. To avoid further depletion of his own crew,  p215 Barry directed De Galatheau to man the Minerva. The Captain, in his pinnace, was back and forth between the prizes and the Marquis de La­fayette several times. Evidently giving De Galatheau charge of one of the vessels filled him with uneasiness. Hence, he was most specific in telling the French prizemaster to make for Philadelphia in case of separation. He could have spared himself the pains for that worthy already had orders from his own captain to choose the first opportunity and bear away for a French port.

Thereafter, the Alliance, her convoy augmented by the two brigs, encountered "Continual Gales of Wind." There were occasional clear days, but Barry's journal of the westward passage is filled with such entries as "Very Heavy Squalls with Some Rain," "a large Sea from the North ward," and "The Ship Labouring very much." Something was happening constantly aloft to delay progress. One day they carried away the main topsail sheets. A week later, they had to lower the mizzen gaff to mend the mizzen sail. Another few days and Barry "found one fore Shroud & Ditto Main Gone." Forty-eight hours later, he discovered the foremast sprung •four feet above the gun deck. Scarcely had the carpenters finished it, when they happened upon "an Other wound a little above the Fore Castle rather worse than the former." Tragedy stalked on board, when, in bending a new main topmast steering sail to replace one that had split, John Burke, a landsman, pitched off the main topsail yard, and disappeared in the swirling waters of a "Ruff Sea."

Through it all, John Barry maintained vigilant watch day and night over the Marquis de La­fayette and the two brigs. In the main, they kept positions astern of the frigate; sometimes too far astern to suit him, and peremptory signals would order them to close in. At daybreak each morning, he would heave a sigh of relief to find his consorts in sight. "Fleet in Company" would be his first journal entry of that day. Once, on April 9, the smaller brig failed to wear and stand after the Alliance on a new tack. A warning gun from the frigate brought her into line, the French prizemaster concluding that was not the time to perform his disappearing act. Three days later, with the weather slightly moderated, Barry sent the pinnace across to the Mars with slops for the prize crew. It returned  p216 with twelve cohorns and two of the Marquis de La­fayette's seamen, who had been left on board when first taken.

By mid‑April, with the sea more boisterous than before, the Captain burned false fires at half-hour intervals through the night. Despite this precaution, the Mars lost the convoy during the night of April 17‑18, and the Minerva vanished the following night. Neither reappeared. Lieutenant Fletcher had found the separation unavoidable. The French prizemaster had found it convenient. On the morning of April 19, with the Atlantic a trifle calmer, Barry sent the pinnace on board the Marquis de La­fayette with her two hands taken from the Mars, and a request to De Galatheau to keep within hailing distance. For once, the Frenchman complied. For six days, he clung close by, a model of obedience, and Barry felt a bit of relief. The relief was premature.

A hard gale struck the Alliance and her consort at daybreak of April 25. The wind leaped to high velocity, splitting the frigate's foresail. Before it could be unbent, the spring of the fore topmast stay was carried away, and the staysail was rent from head to foot. Through this misfortune, the Alliance was unable to bring to. Here was the chance for which De Galatheau had been waiting. He was under foresail and promptly shot ahead. As he passed, Barry hailed, but received no reply. Neither did the Frenchman acknowledge signal flags nor several guns. Within an hour, the Marquis de La­fayette had disappeared into the storm.

Even then, Barry did not believe the desertion deliberate. After repairs had been made, he ordered continuous watch, reporting regret­fully at noon that his consort was "not to be Seen from the T[op] M[ast] head." Through that night, the Alliance showed false fires hourly, but dawn of April 26 disclosed no Marquis de La­fayette. For two days, the frigate stood back and forth, searching in vain for the ship so valuably freighted with munitions of war.

"We did all our endeavours," Barry recorded, so, on the afternoon of April 28, he gave up the quest, and resumed his westward course. The weather had cleared, and remained fair with fresh breezes. Under considerable canvas, the Alliance sailed along with no mishaps, and the Captain's good spirits returned. May 1 was delight­ful and it was also St. Tammany's  p217 day. The jocular patron saint of the American Revolution was honored with mention in the Alliance's journal — "St Tamney's Day," Barry wrote it. To the superstitious this entry must have been responsible for the ensuing good luck.

Two sail were sighted upon the Alliance's weather bow early on May 2. A hot pursuit followed. The nearer, a brig, was overtaken before noon. Two shots from the bow guns brought her to. Midshipman Edward Kirby and six hands went on board as prize crew, and back to the frigate came the captured Britons. The brig was the Adventure, Thomas Morgan master, from Jamaica, bound for Bristol, loaded with 250 hogsheads of sugar, and had been separated the day before from the eastbound Jamaica fleet. Continuing the chase, Barry overhauled the other, a snow, in the early afternoon — a second Jamaicaman and with a cargo of 300 hogsheads of sugar. Master's-mate Henry W. Jackson and nine men boarded her. From the prisoners, Barry recruited four hands — a seaman and three boys.

Later that afternoon came a hail from the masthead. A fleet of more than a hundred vessels, including ten ships‑of-the‑line, was some leagues off to the west, and headed toward them. Frigate and prizes stood northward in a hurry. Until after ten o'clock that night, the distant fleet was visible, but showed no interest in the Alliance and her consorts. When dawn of May 3 disclosed a gray, barren ocean, Barry signaled the brig and snow to follow, and resumed his voyage. He knew that, by the greatest good fortune, he had escaped the heavily convoyed, homeward-bound spring fleet from Jamaica.

* * *

The polite Captain de Galatheau had not sailed away in the storm, on the morning of April 25, without the violent protests of his passenger. Captain William Robeson had remonstrated in vain. The Frenchman had borne off "Contrary to every Argument I could use," Robeson wrote later.

Five days afterwards came the climax to the rash and foolish abandonment of the Alliance. On April 30, De Galatheau ran afoul of that same Jamaica fleet Barry was to spot two days later. But the Frenchman was too close to avoid detection and consequent pursuit. After him went the Endymion, of forty- p218 four guns, with the Egmont, of seventy-four, hard on her heels. For three hours, he fled and for two of the three waged a "smart, running fight." Even Captain Robeson paid a reluctant tribute to De Galatheau's courage and the way he fought his ship. When he surrendered, with the Egmont coming up abreast for the coup-de‑grâce, the old Indiaman was "reduced to a perfect hulk." Only a small crew, with sixty of them sickly, and many prisoners on board, finally induced the Frenchman to haul down his flag. Twenty of his men had been killed or wounded and the ship so badly battered she had to be towed for thirteen days.

They took her into Edinburgh on June 23, where there was jubilation over the capture of a vessel worth "not less than 300,000 £ sterling." The inexplicable caprices of an erratic French sea captain had robbed the Continent of a badly needed cargo of munitions. Nor would John Barry hear the end of his experiences with De Galatheau and the Marquis de La­fayette for many a long month.

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