Upon the trip across the Atlantic the prediction that the commander had made to Ethan in Portsmouth harbor had been realized. Many defects and weaknesses were discovered in the Ranger, and these he now set about remedying as far as possible. The ship’s trim was altered; her ballast was taken out and restowed; her masts were shortened, also, by some feet. No man ever sailed the ocean who knew more about the small details of seamanship than John Paul Jones; after he had been in a vessel a few weeks it was an assured thing that she had come to do all that there was in her. Many a cranky, slow answering tub had been transformed, by his knowledge, into a speedy, amenable ship. After they had cleared the harbor the Ranger showed marked evidence of improvement in her work. “She’ll answer, now,” said her captain, with satisfaction. Off Cape Clear a British brig was captured and sent into Brest, as was the Lord Chatham, a ship out of London, which they took a little later. While heading up the Irish channel one day during the first dog-watch, Ethan and the commander were pacing the quarter-deck. “Do you intend to head directly for St. Mary’s Isle?” asked the boy. “No; I had thought of a plan by which an attempt might be made upon Whitehaven. There is a great deal of shipping in the harbor there I know; and if it could be destroyed it would be a damaging blow.” “You are quite familiar with that port, are you not?” “I sailed out of it upon my first voyage, and first saw the light of day not many miles from it. Let me once get into the harbor with a fire boat and I’ll forever put a stop to the burnings and ravagings that the British are so free with upon our undefended coast. A blaze that would sweep every hull from Whitehaven would show them that we have the power to retaliate; and after that they would be more apt to hold their savagery in check.” “I think you are right,” agreed Ethan. “There is nothing like a swift retaliation to teach a brutal and insolent enemy to be merciful.” There was a strong wind blowing when the Ranger came in sight of Whitehaven and beat up toward it. The boats had been lowered, manned, and were about to be called away, when the wind suddenly shifted and blew on shore. The position of the American was now most dangerous, so the boats were promptly hoisted in once more and the Ranger beat out to sea. Off Carrickfergus they took a small fishing-boat. The skipper was a hot-tempered little Celt, and he made a great ado about the matter. “Faith, then, captain,” said he to the smiling commander of the sloop-of-war, “I think it’s a shame, so I do, that an honest man can’t cast his nests into the say for the bits of fish that do be swimming about, widout being dragged on board a Yankee that he don’t want to get acquainted wid.” “Well,” replied Captain Jones, “we are not quite so discourteous. We desired your acquaintance and went to some little trouble to make it.”