“Fate seems to fight against us,” laughed Captain Jones. “Now for Whitehaven once more, and let us hope for a favorable wind.” They reached that port once more about eight in the evening upon the twenty-second of the month; but the boats were not called away until after midnight. There were two of these, and were manned by crews of heavily-armed volunteers. Ethan and Longsword had volunteered for the captain’s boat. “I will advance and attack the forts,” said the commander to Lieutenant Wallingford, who was in charge of the other boat. “Your share in the enterprise is to get well in among the shipping and set fire to it.” These were all the instructions given. Day began to dawn as they reached the outer pier of the harbor. “Take the north side,” directed Captain Jones, “and pull hard.” “Ay, ay, sir,” answered the third officer; his boat drew away from the other and made into the harbor. “There are the forts upon the south side, are they not?” asked Ethan. “Yes,” said John Paul Jones, “and they are likely to be slimly manned. I know the custom here, you see.” “It reminds me of old times, faith,” whispered Longsword to Ethan, as he sat in the stern with his great brass-hilted blade between his knees. Captain Jones was right; the first fort was garrisoned by about a half dozen heavy-eyed soldiers. Ethan, Longsword and a few of the more daring seamen scaled the wall and overpowered these without trouble. “Into the guard house with them,” ordered Ethan, “and fasten them in.” When the gate was thrown open and Jones and the remainder of the boat’s crew entered, the former said briskly, “Spike the guns; we may have them roaring about our ears soon if we don’t.” Longsword drove the plugs of iron into the vents of the cannon with swift and hearty blows. “Now, Mr. Browne,” continued the captain, “station a few men to guard the approaches from the town. Mr. Carlyle, come with me.” While Browne, middy, was stationing the men, Ethan hurried away with the captain toward the point where they had landed. “That is Wallingford’s boat that I see advancing,” said the commander, pointing to a craft slowly emerging from a wall of mist. “And I see no indications from the harbor that he has carried out my orders.” As a matter of fact there was no blaze among the shipping and Ethan saw that the face of the commander was set and stern. Wallingford’s boat touched and the lieutenant sprang ashore. “Well, sir,” rapped out the captain. “My lights went out, sir, just as I was about to begin work, and so I could not carry out my orders.” This was long before the day of “brimstone” matches. The two boats carried lanterns in which were placed lighted candles, and to these most uncertain things they had to trust for the success or failure of a most brilliantly planned expedition. “You will find lights in my boats there, I think,” said Captain Paul Jones. “Take them and try once more; there may yet be time.”