However, having learned afterward that the contention of the French admiral was correct, Jones determined to accept the indicated return, realizing with his usual keenness that the gist of the matter lay in receiving any salute rather than in the number of guns which it comprised; so the Ranger got under way late in the evening of the 14th, and beat in toward the harbor. It was almost dark when she drew abreast the great French flagship. Backing his main-topsail, the 6-pounders on the main deck of the Ranger barked out their salute of thirteen guns, which was promptly returned by the French commander with nine heavy guns from the battle ship. It was the first time the Stars and Stripes had been saluted on the high seas. It was, in fact, the first official recognition of the existence of this new power by the authorized military representatives of any civilized nation. A Dutch governor of St. Eustatius, a year before, had saluted an American ensign--not the Stars and Stripes, of course--on one of our cruisers, but the act had been disavowed and the governor promptly recalled for his presumption. As this little transaction between Paul Jones and La Motte Piquet had occurred so late at night, the American sent word to the Frenchman that he proposed to sail through his line in broad daylight on the morrow, with the brig Independence, a privateer temporarily attached to his command, and salute him in the open light of day. With great good humor and complaisance, La Motte Piquet again expressed his intention of responding. Accordingly, the next morning, Jones repaired on board the Independence, which had been lying to during the night outside of signal distance, and, having made everything as smart and as shipshape as possible on the little vessel, with the newest and brightest of American ensigns flying from every masthead, the little brig sailed past the towering walls of the great ships of the line, saluting and receiving their reply. There were no doubts in any one's mind as to the reality of the salute to the flag after that! It must have been a proud moment for the man who had hoisted the pine-tree flag for the first time on the Alfred; for the man who had been the first officer of the American navy to receive promotion; for the man who had first flung the Stars and Stripes to the breeze from the masthead of a ship; for the man who, in his little vessel, trifling and inconsiderable as she was, was yet about to maintain the honor of that flag with unexampled heroism in the home waters and in the presence of the proudest, most splendid, and most efficient navy of the world. That 15th of February, that bright, cold, clear winter morning, is one of the memorable anniversaries in the history of our nation. Writing to the Marine Committee on the 22d of February, 1778, he says: