“My God, she’s firing on us--the ‘Alliance,’ sir!” And the captain glanced astern where the flashes marked the position of the crazy Landais, firing on his own consort. If ever Paul Jones had an idea of hauling his colors, it must have been at this moment. He had been struck on the head by a splinter, and the blood surged down over his shoulder--but he didn’t know it. Just then a fear-crazed wretch rushed past him, trying to find the signal-halyards, crying wildly as he ran,-- “Quarter! For God’s sake, quarter! Our ship is sinking!” Jones heard the words, and, turning quickly, he hurled an empty pistol at the man, which struck him squarely between the eyes, knocking him headlong down the hatch. Pearson heard the cry. “Do you call for quarter?” he shouted. For answer Paul Jones’s nine-pounder cut away the rail on which he was standing. Then came the turn in the fight. Horrible as had been the slaughter on the “Richard,” the quick flashes from his tops told Paul Jones that his marines had not been placed aloft in vain. He saw the crew on the spar-deck of his enemy fall one by one and men fleeing below for safety. Raising his trumpet, he cheered his topmen to further efforts. In their unceasing fire lay his only hope. One of them in his maintop with great deliberateness laid aside his musket and picked up a leather bucket of hand grenades. Jones watched him anxiously as, steadying himself, he slowly lay out along the foot-rope of the main-yard. His captain knew what he meant to do. He reached the lift, which was directly over the main hatch of the “Serapis.” There he coolly fastened his bucket to the sheet-block, and, taking careful aim, began dropping his grenades down the open hatchway. The second one fell on a row of exposed powder charges. The explosion that followed shook sea and sky, and the air was filled with blackened corpses. The smoke came up in a mighty cloud, and soon the forks of flame licked through it and up the rigging. That was the supreme moment of Paul Jones’s life, for he knew that victory was his. The fire from the “Serapis” ceased as if by magic. The explosion had blown a whole battery to eternity, and, as the smoke cleared a little, he could see the figure of Pearson leaning against the pin-rail, almost deserted, his few men running here and there, stricken mad with fear. Then the English captain stumbled heavily, as though blind, over the slippery deck towards the mizzen, where the flag had been nailed, and with his own hands tore it frantically from the mast.