The people, seeing the fleet piloted by the English vessel, supposed the visit to be a friendly one. So they sent a boat out to the _Richard_, asking for powder and shot to defend the town from the visit of "Paul Jones the pirate." Jones sent back a barrel of powder with the message that he had no suitable shot. It was not until the vessels were nearing the harbor that the object of the visit was suspected. The people, in their fright, ran to the house of the minister. He had helped them when in trouble at other times, and could surely do something now. The good man, with his flock following him, ran to the beach, where he made a strange prayer. He told the Lord that the people there were very poor, and that the wind was bringing to the shore that "vile pirate," Paul Jones, who would burn their houses and take away even their clothes. "I canna think of it! I canna think of it! I have long been a faithful servant to ye, O Lord. But gin ye dinna turn the wind aboot and blaw the scoundrel out of our gates, I'll nae stir a foot, but will just sit here till the tide comes in." Just then a violent gale sprang up, and by the time it had abated the squadron had been driven so far out to sea that the plan was given up. Long afterward, the good minister would often say, "I prayed, but the Lord sent the wind." X.--THE GREAT FIGHT WITH THE SERAPIS. Paul Jones next cruised up and down the eastern coast of England, trying to capture some merchant ships that were bound for London. About noon, on September 23, 1779, he saw not far from the shore an English fleet, sailing from the north. It was convoyed by two new war ships, the _Serapis_ and the _Countess of Scarborough_. Paul Jones at once signaled to his ships to form in line of battle. Captain Landais disobeyed. The sight of the American squadron seemed to cause confusion in the English fleet. They let fly their top gallant sails and fired many signals. The _Serapis_ and the _Countess_ drew up in line of battle and waited for the enemy, while the merchant ships ran into port. It was a clear, calm afternoon. The sea was like a polished mirror, with scarcely a ripple on its surface. The vessels approached each other so slowly that they scarcely seemed to move. The decks had all been cleared for action, and the captains were full of impatience. Word had gone from town to town along the shore, that a great battle was soon to be fought. The people along the shore gathered on the high cliffs, eagerly hoping to see the dreaded Paul Jones crushed forever. The sun had gone down behind the hills before the ships were within speaking distance of each other. The harvest moon came up, full and clear, and shed a soft light over the dreadful battle that followed.