Had it been possible to have landed a few hours earlier not a ship nor a house could have escaped.  But it was the lesson, not the loss, that told.  As it was, enough damage had been done to demonstrate—­as Paul had declared to the wise man of Paris—­that the disasters caused by the wanton fires and assaults on the American coasts, could be easily brought home to the enemy’s doors.  Though, indeed, if the retaliators were headed by Paul Jones, the satisfaction would not be equal to the insult, being abated by the magnanimity of a chivalrous, however unprincipled a foe.

CHAPTER XVII.

THEY CALL AT THE EARL OF SELKIRK’S, AND AFTERWARDS FIGHT THE SHIP-OF-WAR DRAKE.

The Ranger now stood over the Solway Frith for the Scottish shore, and at noon on the same day, Paul, with twelve men, including two officers and Israel, landed on St. Mary’s Isle, one of the seats of the Earl of Selkirk.

In three consecutive days this elemental warrior either entered the harbors or landed on the shores of each of the Three Kingdoms.

The morning was fair and clear.  St. Mary’s Isle lay shimmering in the sun.  The light crust of snow had melted, revealing the tender grass and sweet buds of spring mantling the sides of the cliffs.

At once, upon advancing with his party towards the house, Paul augured ill for his project from the loneliness of the spot.  No being was seen.  But cocking his bonnet at a jaunty angle, he continued his way.  Stationing the men silently round about the house, fallowed by Israel, he announced his presence at the porch.

A gray-headed domestic at length responded.

“Is the Earl within?”

“He is in Edinburgh, sir.”

“Ah—­sure?—­Is your lady within?”

“Yes, sir—­who shall I say it is?”

“A gentleman who calls to pay his respects.  Here, take my card.”

And he handed the man his name, as a private gentleman, superbly engraved at Paris, on gilded paper.

Israel tarried in the hall while the old servant led Paul into a parlor.

Presently the lady appeared.

“Charming Madame, I wish you a very good morning.”

“Who may it be, sir, that I have the happiness to see?” said the lady, censoriously drawing herself up at the too frank gallantry of the stranger.

“Madame, I sent you my card.”

“Which leaves me equally ignorant, sir,” said the lady, coldly, twirling the gilded pasteboard.

“A courier dispatched to Whitehaven, charming Madame, might bring you more particular tidings as to who has the honor of being your visitor.”

Not comprehending what this meant, and deeply displeased, if not vaguely alarmed, at the characteristic manner of Paul, the lady, not entirely unembarrassed, replied, that if the gentleman came to view the isle, he was at liberty so to do.  She would retire and send him a guide.