Lieutenant Dale leaps to the deck of the beaten Serapis. He sends Captain Pearson aboard the Richard. Downcast, eye full of dejection, Captain Pearson approaches Commodore Paul Jones. “With bowed head, saying never a word, he tenders the conqueror his sheathed sword. Commodore Paul Jones takes it and gives it to Midshipman Potter, who is at his elbow.
“I accept your sword, Captain,” says Commodore Paul Jones. “And I bear testimony that you have worn it to the glory of the English navy.”
Captain Pearson makes no response. Bowed of head, mute of lip, he stands before Commodore Paul Jones, despair eating his heart.
CHAPTER XVIII—DIPLOMACY AND THE DUTCH
Commodore Paul Jones goes aboard the beaten Serapis. “Cut free that sta’board anchor!” he cries. The piled dead and wounded are lifted aside, and that fatal anchor, which for two hours of blood has been as the backbone of battle, goes splashing into the ocean. The ships rock apart; as they separate, Commodore Paul Jones takes a sharp survey of the Richard. The survey brings little hope; his good ship that has fought so well for him lies in the water four smothering feet below its trim.
“There are eight feet of water in the hold,” replies Lieutenant Dale, whom he hails. “The pumps choke; there’s no chance to save the ship.”
Then arises a sudden rending and tearing aboard the Serapis; there is a great swish! and a snapping of cordage. It is the mainmast crashing to port, a tangle of ropes and spars.
“Beg pardon, sir,” says a voice at the elbow of Commodore Paul Jones. “I’d have had it down an hour ago, but there was neither wind nor swell to help me. I had to cut it in two shot by shot to drop it, sir.”