Captain Pearson bowed, and answered:
“Your conduct is most generous—” and hesitated, as if to express surprise at such good treatment.
“You will find, I hope, that all American officers are generous in victory; and should we have the misfortune to be forced to haul down our colors, I trust that we would show the fortitude of the brave who are unfortunate,” said Paul Jones, with dignity—and, with a low bow, he retired from the cabin, leaving Captain Pearson alone.
As soon as the commodore returned to the deck he ordered the lashings to be cut, as the ships continued to catch fire from each other, and there was great danger to the powder on both.
“And both ships must be saved, my lads!” cried he to the men, who were working like Trojans to save the Serapis from the flames.
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered the men heartily.
As soon as they were free, the Bon Homme Richard drifted rapidly off. The Serapis was hailed and ordered to follow.
On board the Serapis Dale was in command. Exhausted by his five hours of work and fighting, he sat down on a dismounted gun near the binnacle. The reaction had come. A profound sadness seized him, and he could almost have wept when he saw the destruction around him. But nothing made him forget his duty for a moment. As soon as the ships parted he ordered the wreck of the mainmast to be cleared away, the headyards braced aback, and the helm put hard down. This was promptly done, but still the ship did not pay off. Imagining that her steering gear was cut to pieces, he ordered it examined, but, to his surprise, found it uninjured. Puzzled by so strange a state of things, Dale jumped from his seat, only to fall his length upon the deck. Bill Green ran to him and helped him up; but Dale could not stand upon his feet.
“And natural you can’t, sir, seein’ as your ankle is wounded,” said Bill.
“Is it?” answered Dale, faintly. “I did not know until this moment I was hurt.”