And the ships drew nearer--nearer. In a moment the dogs of war would be loose. Presently a sound broke the silence, a hail from the English ship. A man leaped up on her rail and a cry came faintly up through a hollowed hand against the gentle breeze: "What ship is that?" The Richard had been kept skillfully end on to the Serapis, and the commander of the latter ship had still some lingering doubts as to her nationality. Measuring the distance between the two ships, Jones quickly motioned to the watchful quartermaster beneath him. With eager hands the men began, spoke by spoke, to shift the helm to starboard. As the American ship began to swing to port it would be but a moment before her broadside would be revealed and concealment at an end. That precious moment, however, Jones would have. He sprang on the taffrail to starboard, and, catching hold of the backstay, leaned far out and called loudly: "I do not understand you." The Richard was swinging still more now. The English caught a glimpse of a lighted port forward. From it a huge gun thrust its muzzle out into the night. Quick and sharp came the hail once more: "What ship is that? Answer at once or I fire!" With what breathless silence the two ships listened for the reply! The helm was hard over now, the quartermasters holding it down with grim determination, sweat pouring from their foreheads, the ship swinging broadside in to, and a little forward of, the Englishman. Bending over toward the quarter-deck, in a clear voice heard throughout his ship, Jones called out a sharp word of command. Even as he spoke a line of fire lanced out into the night, followed by the roar of one of the 12-pounders. It was an answer not to be mistaken. Immediately the whole broadside of the Richard was let go. Simultaneously the iron throats on the Serapis belched forth their rain of hell and destruction, and the great battle was on! It was perhaps a quarter after seven. Side by side the two ships, covered with blinding smoke, sailed in the still night, broadside answering broadside, the roar of the great guns sounding in one horrible continuous note vibrating over the ocean. The thunderous diapason was punctuated by the sharp staccato rattle of the small arms.