“It is nothing,” answered Paul Jones calmly.
The ships were now made firmly fast, but in the smoke and darkness it was not perceived on board the Serapis. Captain Pearson gave orders to drop an anchor under his bow, thinking his bold adversary would drift away.
The tide was strong, and both wind and tide were in the same direction, so that the ships drifted rapidly together. Their spars, spare anchors, and every possible object became interlocked, and soon the ships were fast in a mortal embrace. As the Serapis swung round, with her stern to the bows of the Bon Homme Richard, her portlids were lowered to prevent the Americans from boarding her through her ports. The guns were then fired behind the closed portlids, blowing everything before them. The British gunners would then have to lean forward into the shattered sides of the Bon Homme Richard to pass the rammers in the muzzles of their own guns. The ships caught fire repeatedly from each other, and so terrible was the smoke and flame upon the lower decks of the Bon Homme Richard that the men were forced above. They assembled on the foks’l, where they did good service with muskets and hand grenades.
The Serapis now appeared to have the Bon Homme Richard at her mercy. She had completely cleared everything out on the gun deck, and the fire was rapidly gaining on the ship in spite of Dale’s heroic efforts. On the spar deck Paul Jones still worked the two or three nine-pounders, but they were nothing against the tremendous metal of the British ship.
But the forcing of the American gunners to the upper deck enabled them to make it as hot for the British above as the British made it hot for them below. An awful fusillade was kept up on the spar deck of the Serapis, and so terrible was it on the quarter-deck that the brave Pearson, although remaining himself and giving his orders coolly, ordered all the men below. So effectually were the lower-deck batteries of the Serapis worked that the Bon Homme Richard was cut entirely to pieces between decks, especially from the mainmast to the stern. The rudder and stern frame were cut completely off, and soon the shot began to pass clear through the ship without finding anything to strike.
The moon was now bright, and the wind having caused the smoke to drift, Paul Jones perceived the Alliance approaching to windward. He turned to Dale, who had come on deck. “Thank God,” he said, “the battle is now over! Yonder is the Alliance.”
The Alliance came on under a fair wind, but, to the consternation of every one on the Bon Homme Richard, on passing close to leeward she deliberately fired a broadside into the stern. Immediately every voice on the commodore’s ship was raised:
“For God’s sake,” they shouted, “stop firing into us!”
The Alliance, though, as she sailed by, fired into the side and the head of the ship as well as the stern. In vain were three lanterns shown—the signal of reconnoissance; the Alliance paid no attention to the signal, and her fire dismounted one or two guns, killed and wounded several men, and cut the ship up aloft a good deal. One of the men on the Bon Homme Richard yelled:
“The crew has mutinied, and they are taking the ship to the British!” This induced several of the faint-hearted to leave their quarters.