The Englishman trusted to the guns of Scarborough Castle to protect the merchantmen while they stood out to sea and prepared for action.
It was night before the Richard came up with them, as the breeze was very light; about eight bells both British ships tacked and stood in for shore; Jones at once altered his course with a view of cutting them off. At sight of this manœuvre the skipper of the Pallas thought the crew of the Richard had mutinied in the face of the foe; so he hauled his wind quickly and stood out. Landais brought the Alliance to a long distance to windward, and most coolly awaited developments, never seeming to trouble himself a moment over the fact that his duty called him to render the Richard all the aid in his power.
As the ship of John Paul Jones drew near, a deep voice from the quarter-deck of the Serapis hailed her.
“Ahoy! What ship is that?”
It was then a quarter past eight; the moon swung like a great disc of silver in the heavens; the sea was scarcely ruffled, so still was the air. It was Richard Dale who answered the hail.
“Come a little nearer,” he shouted, “and we’ll tell you!”
The tall poop and forecastle of the Richard seemed to excite derision upon the British ship; she stood hugely out of the water with an ark-like loom; and she had a dull, slow-moving air, vastly different from the smart and powerful Serapis.
“What are you laden with, old Noah’s ark?” called the voice from the Englishman, and the question was accompanied by contemptuous laughter.
“We carry round, grape and double-headed shot,” answered Richard Dale.
And no sooner had he uttered the words than a sheet of red flame burst from the side of the Serapis and she poured her range of upper and quarter-deck guns into the high hull of the Richard.