"Have you surrendered?" he shouted across the water to Commodore Jones.
"I have not yet begun to fight," was the famous answer of the brave Paul Jones.
Surrender, indeed! I doubt if that word was in Paul Jones' dictionary. He would rather have let his vessel sink. The ships now drifted together, and by Jones' order the jib-boom of the "Serapis" was lashed to his mizzen-mast. This brought the ships so close side by side that the English gunners could not open their ports, and had to fire through them and blow them off. And the gunners on both sides had to thrust the handles of their rammers through the enemy's port holes, in order to load their guns.
Affairs were now desperate. The "Bon Homme Richard" was on fire in several places. Water was pouring into her through a dozen rents. It seemed as if she must sink or burn. Almost any man except Paul Jones would have given up the fight. I know I should, and I fancy most of you would have done the same. But there was no give up in that man's soul.
One would think that nothing could have been worse, but worse still was to come. In this crisis the "Alliance," one of Jones' small fleet, came up and fired two broadsides into the wounded flagship, killing a number of her crew. Whether this was done on purpose or by mistake is not known. The French captain did not like Commodore Jones, and most men think he played the traitor.
And another bad thing took place. There were two or three hundred English prisoners on the "Bon Homme Richard," taken from her prizes. One of the American officers, thinking that all was over, set these men free, and they came swarming up. At the same time one of the crew tried to haul down the flag and he cried to the British for quarter. Paul Jones knocked him down by flinging a pistol at his head. He might sink or burn—but give up the ship? never!
The tide of chance now began to turn. Richard Dale, the master's mate, told the English prisoners that the vessel was sinking, and set them at work pumping and fighting the fire to save their lives. And one of the marines, who was fighting on the yard-arms, dropped a hand grenade into an open hatch of the "Serapis." It set fire to a heap of gun cartridges that lay below, and these exploded, killing twenty of the gunners and wounding many more, while the ship was set on fire. This ended the fight. The fire of the marines from the mast-tops had cleared the decks of the "Serapis" of men. Commodore Jones aided in this with the 9-pounders on his deck, loading and firing them himself. Captain Pearson stood alone, and when he heard the roar of the explosion he could bear the strain no longer. He ran and pulled down the flag, which had been nailed to the mast.
"Cease firing," said Paul Jones.
The "Serapis" was his. Well and nobly had it been won.
Never had there been a victory gained in such straits. The "Bon Homme Richard" was fast settling down into the sea. Pump as they would, they could never save her. Inch by inch she sank deeper. Jones and his gallant crew boarded the "Serapis," and at nine o'clock the next morning the noble old craft sank beneath the ocean waves, laden with honor, and with her victorious flag still flying. The "Serapis" was brought safely into port.