Just then the Alliance under Captain Landais came up, and Jones believed that the battle was won. But the Alliance instead of firing on the Serapis discharged a broadside at the Bonhomme Richard. In spite of shouts and warnings, Landais continued his dastardly work and many Americans and Frenchmen were killed or wounded by his fire. Then his craft sailed away and was seen no more until after the battle.
It was now known aboard the Serapis what a desperate state of affairs existed on Jones' ship, and the English believed that a few more broadsides would bring them victory. But their hopes were suddenly dashed. An American sailor had crawled along the yardarm of the Richard to the mast of the Serapis and had dropped a hand grenade. The grenade plunged through a hatchway and fell upon some loose powder and a row of charges for the cannon that had been placed on deck. The roar of a terrific explosion followed, and Englishmen, screaming for quarter, could be seen running through the smoke and flame of their own vessel with every vestige of clothing burned from their bodies. The battle was won by the Americans.
Captain Pearson walked aft and struck his colors. American officers boarded the Serapis, and Pearson and his lieutenants were ordered to report to Jones on the Bonhomme Richard. There Captain Pearson surrendered his sword and was placed in confinement by Jones.
The Bonhomme Richard had been so severely damaged in the fight that she was in a sinking condition and it was plain to see that she would not remain above the waves much longer. So, transferring every man to the Serapis, Jones sailed for a Dutch port, accompanied by his other vessels. The Countess of Scarborough had been captured after about an hour's fight, and Jones had more than five hundred British prisoners in his charge, including two captains and a number of lesser officers.
Although many difficulties and dangers still beset him, Jones' fame was now assured. England and France rang with his victory, and while the English drew cartoons of him as a bloody pirate, strutting on a quarter deck that was lined with the bodies of his victims, the French king, Louis the Sixteenth, presented him with a gold mounted sword and the cross of the Order of Military Merit. Congress passed a resolution commending him for his gallantry and he received a complimentary letter from General Washington.
When the war with England ended and the United States had secured their independence, Paul Jones entered the service of the Russian Empire under Catherine the Great with the rank of Rear Admiral. He gave the new country of his adoption the greatest service in their war with the Turks, many of whose vessels Jones sunk or destroyed. But he was disgusted with Russian intrigue, resigned his commission and returned to Paris.
All this time he had remained an American citizen. He considered this the greatest honor of any that had come to him—that he could call himself a citizen of the Republic for which he had fought so often and so well against such great odds. But his health had been failing him and he died in Paris on July 18, 1792. He was given a public funeral by the French National Assembly.
For a long time his body remained in France. At length, however, its resting place was discovered by General Horace Porter, U.S.A., and all that remained of Paul Jones was brought back in state to America on a great steel ship the like of which he had never seen. He was given a national funeral at Annapolis and his body was entombed in the beautiful Chapel of the Naval Academy, which institution Jones himself had urged Congress to found. It is a fitting resting place for America's greatest naval hero,—for while we have many distinguished and noble sailors, there is no name that has the ring of Paul Jones.