Jones was delighted.
“Throw out the grappling hooks!” cried he, in shrill tones. “Hold tight to the Britisher and be prepared to board!”
In an instant, many clawing irons spun out into the mizzen stays of the Serapis; but, though they caught, the lines holding them soon parted. The Serapis fell off and the Richard lurched ahead. Neither had been able to bring her broadsides to bear.
“We can’t beat her by broadsiding,” cried Jones. “We’ve got to board!”
Crash! Crash! Crash!
Again the cannon made the splinters fly. Again the two game-cocks spat at each other like angry cats, but, the fire from the Richard was far weaker than before.
Commodore Jones walked hastily to the gun-deck.
“Dick,” said he to Lieutenant Dale, “this fellow’s metal is too heavy for us at this business. He is hammering us all to pieces. We must close with him! We must get hold of him! Be prepared at any moment to abandon this place and bring what men you have left on the spar-deck—and give them the small arms for boarding when you come up.”
Lieutenant Dale saluted.
“All right!” cried he. “I’ll be with you in a jiffy, Commodore.”