s business. He is hammering us all to pieces. We must
close with him! We must get hold of him! Be prepared at any moment to
abandon this place and bring what men you have left on the
spar-deck--and give them the small arms for boarding when you come
up."

Lieutenant Dale saluted.

"All right!" cried he. "I'll be with you in a jiffy, Commodore."

As Jones walked hastily to the main deck--the Lieutenant ran to the
store-room and dealt out cutlasses, pistols and pikes, to the eager
men. The deck was red with blood.

The worst carnage of all was at "number two" gun of the forward,
starboard division. From the first broadside until the quarter-deck
was abandoned, nineteen different men were on this gun, and, at this
time, only one of the original crew remained. It was the little
Indian, Antony Jeremiah; or, as his mates called him, "Red Cherry."

"Let me join you," he cried, as he saw Mayrant's boarding party.
Seizing a cutlass and dirk, he stood beside the cluster of men, eager
and keen to have a chance at the enemy. A soul of fire was that of the
little savage--and now he had a splendid opportunity to indulge in the
natural blood-thirst of his race, for an Indian loves a good fight,
particularly when he is upon the winning side.

The vessels swung on slowly--the fire from the _Serapis_ still strong
and accurate; the sputtering volleys from the _Richard_ growing weaker
and weaker. Only three of the nine-pounders on the starboard
quarter-deck were serviceable; the entire gun-deck battery was silent
and abandoned.

"We have him," cheerfully cried Captain Pearson to one of his aides.
"But, hello"--he continued, "what sail is that?"

As he spoke the _Alliance_ came bounding across the waves, headed for
the two combatants, and looking as if she were to speedily close the
struggle.

"The fight is at an end," said Jones, jubilantly.

Imagine his astonishment, chagrin, and mortification! Instead of
pounding the English vessel, the French ally discharged a broadside
full into the stern of the _Richard_, ran off to the northward, close
hauled, and soon was beyond gun-shot.

"Coward!" shouted John Paul, shaking his fist at the retreating ally.
"I'll get even with you for this if it takes me twenty years!"

No wonder he was angered, for, with his main battery completely
silenced, his ship beginning to sink, nearly half his crew disabled,
his wheel shot away, and his consort firing into him, there remained
but one chance