“Well, I call that going up the ladder at a pretty stiff speed,” the Irishman remarked. “But, sure, it’s nothing more than your due, Mr. Dale; ye can handle men and things better nor any one I ever saw before.” It was one of the qualities of John Paul Jones that he recognized exceptional ability at a glance; and that he possessed this knack was a most fortunate thing for him at this most critical period in his career, for the time was fast approaching when the sterling metal of Richard Dale turned the scale in his favor and snatched victory from the very jaws of defeat. The little squadron left the roads of Groix on the morning of August 14th, 1779, and ventured once more into the narrow seas. The expedition against Liverpool had been abandoned long before, and the further crippling of the commerce of England was now the object of the cruise. After some days out, and the capturing of a number of prizes, the Cerf, because of the insubordination of her crew, returned to France; the Alliance, whose captain, Landais, continued to give Jones trouble whenever he could, parted from the little fleet, and when the Firth of Forth was entered the Bon Homme Richard was accompanied only by the Vengeance and the Pallas. Many prizes were taken and many adventures were met with. Near Flamborough Head one evening the Richard sunk a collier; the Vengeance was near at hand, but the Pallas had borne off to the northeast in chase of a sloop. A pilot taken from the collier gave information regarding a fleet of forty-one sail from the Baltic and under convoy of two British ships of war. This immediately fired the ambition of John Paul Jones; if he could get into the midst of this huge, helpless fleet he could, perhaps, cut out a score of them. Toward daylight next morning he chased two ships for several hours; dawn revealed these to be the Alliance and the Pallas. Captain Jones at once communicated to their commanders the news of the nearness of the fleet of merchantmen. Ethan Carlyle had borne the news to the Alliance, and when the boat was once more hoisted into the Bon Homme Richard he said to Captain Jones: “Captain Landais does not seem at all delighted at the prospect. He seemed to fear that some of the vessels might be armed.” Paul Jones’ eyes flashed scornfully. “He’s of the same kidney as Simpson, then. I fancied as much.” They were still in the latitude of Flamborough Head, about two leagues off the English coast, when the Baltic fleet hove in sight. The great mass of merchantmen came stretching out from behind the Head, bearing northeast from the Richard. “Lay the ship as close to them as you can, Mr. Dale,” directed the commander. Dale put a press of sail upon the flagship and made for the convoy as the Richard passed the Alliance and Pallas, which hung close together. Paul Jones heard Landais call to the commander of the other vessel, “If they have above fifty guns there will be nothing left to do but run for it!”