"That 'somebody' is probably ourselves," answered the commodore uneasily, "if she's a British frigate as you think. She's likely out on scout duty, and has a squadron of sister ships somewhere nearby." Signal lanterns were raised to the foremasthead, asking the _Cabot_, as the ship nearest the stranger, to engage the attention of the latter. But before the captain of the _Cabot_ could comply it was seen that the distant ship had come about and was making straight for the two American vessels. The decks of the _Alfred_ and _Cabot_ were immediately cleared for action. No drums were beat, or other unnecessary noise made. The men worked swiftly, went silently to their quarters; the batteries were masked and lights placed behind, while ammunition was hurried up from the magazine-room by the powder-monkeys, the youngest members of the crew. The stranger bore down upon them. Presently came a hail from her deck: "Who are you, and whither are you bound?" The _Cabot_ made answer: "This is the _Betsy_, from Plymouth. Who are you?" Every ear was strained to catch the answer. It came ringing over the clear water through the still night air: "His Majesty's ship _Glasgow_, of twenty-four guns!" As the _Alfred's_ battery consisted of the same number of long 9-pounders on the gun deck and six 6-pounders on the quarter-deck it was apparent that, if the stranger had not lied, her strength in guns must be at least a match for the Britisher. In addition to this, the American flag-ship had the support of the little _Cabot_, with her own fourteen guns and crew of two hundred. Commodore Hopkins felt a great relief when he noted this. The American crews thought they would make short work of the enemy. But not so Paul Jones. He had already seen too much incompetence displayed on that cruise to feel anything but serious misgivings. It was now two-thirty in the morning. The moon had gone down. Evidently in the darkness that prevailed the _Glasgow_ was ignorant of the fact that there were other American ships in the little squadron, else she would have approached with greater caution. As it happened they did not come up during the fray which ensued, and took practically no part at all in it. The _Cabot_ had now got very close to the lee bow of the enemy, and suddenly poured a broadside into her. Instantly the British ship seemed to wake up to her danger. She wore around with all haste, and ran off to clear for action. In twenty minutes she bore down again, this time with a grimness of purpose that there was no mistaking. Paul Jones was in command of the gun deck. The _Alfred_ was so heavily laden with war trophies that she was down in the water almost to her portsills; but the sea was calm and her lowness in no wise prevented the free use of both her batteries, which were used with the utmost ferocity.