Aboard the Serapis, Captain Pearson is holding his glass on the Richard, not a cable’s length away. Suddenly the Richard wears and backs its topsail, thereby bringing its broadside to bear upon the Serapis.
“That was a clever manoeuvre!” remarks Captain Pearson, admiringly, to Lieutenant Wright, who stands by his side. “It holds for him the weather-gage, and makes it impossible for me to luff across his hawse, without exposing my ship to be raked.”
“Who is he?” asks Lieutenant Wright; for the Serapis is just home from Norway, and the word that set all England to lighting beacons and doubling coast-guards has not reached it.
“Who is he?” repeats Captain Pearson, soberly. “He is Paul Jones; and, my word for it, Lieutenant, there is work ahead.”
CHAPTER XV—THE “RICHARD” AND THE “SERAPIS”
The ships are slowly closing, watchful as wrestlers striving for holds, the Richard edging down with the wind, the Serapis holding on.
“What ship is that?” hails Captain Pearson.
There is no reply.