For some time Pearson had been trying to get his vessel under the stern of the American ship; Jones prevented this by masterly seamanship. But the Richard answered her helm slowly, while the swift Serapis moved like a hawk. At length the Englishman secured the coveted position and the American’s deck was raked murderously by whole broadsides and showers of musketry. Some of the heavy shot went through and through the Richard’s rotten timbers; great holes were blown in her that gaped like windows.
The marines fore and aft were killed in crowds; and at length the French colonel in charge of them withdrew what few remained to safer positions. In spite of the sand which had been thrown about, the decks of the converted Indiaman were slippery with blood; the killed lay upon every side, and the horrid, hopeless cries of the wounded were dreadful to hear. The guns of the Richard were useless while the Serapis held her present position; the only damage that the Americans were doing was by the small arms’ fire from the top.
With his deck reeling beneath him, and the very frame of his crazy old ship almost rent asunder by the shocks of her own guns, the dauntless commander of the Bon Homme Richard sprang along his shot-swept rail into that sleet of death. He had seen the desperate efforts of Ethan Carlyle and Longsword to drag a gun to a position from which it could be brought to bear upon the enemy, and now lent his aid in placing it.
“Warm work, sir!” panted the Irish dragoon.
“Ay,” answered the commander grimly, as he sighted the gun, “and ’twill be hotter still before we are done.”
“They don’t seem to be hulling us with their lower battery as they did some time ago,” said Ethan, who had noted this remarkable fact. Although the ships were within pistol shot of one another and the big guns of the Serapis roared incessantly they seemed to be doing no damage.
“The reason is simple enough,” said the captain coolly, as he took the blazing match from Longsword’s hand. “Dale reports that they have shot six port holes into one on both sides and their balls are passing clear through us without striking.”
As he fired the gun a man sprang upon deck and saluted. It was Richard Dale.
“We are leaking badly, sir,” he said. “They have struck us repeatedly below the water line, and the surgeon has been forced to clear the cock-pit of all the wounded.”