Sixty feet below the hand-grenade quintette, Commodore Paul Jones is again dealing out profane encouragement to his marines, for their ardor sensibly slackens the moment he takes his eye off them. They do good work, however--these Frenchmen! Under their fire the upper deck of the _Serapis_ becomes a slaughter-pen. One after another, seven men are shot down at the Englishman’s wheel. This does not affect the _Serapis_; since, locked together in the death grapple, both ships are adrift, and have paid no attention to their helms for twenty minutes. Still, it does the Frenchmen good to shoot down those wheelmen. Also, it mortifies the pride of the English; for to be unable to stay at one’s own wheel is in its way a disgrace. While Commodore Paul Jones is uplifting his Frenchmen, and improving their small-arm practice, orderly Jack Downes, who has been forward to Lieutenant Dale with an order, comes rushing aft. “Lieutenant Dale, sir, reports six feet of water in our hold; and coming in fast, sir!” Orderly Jack Downes touches his forelock, face as stolid aw a statue’s, and not at all as though he has just reported the ship to be sinking. Commodore Paul Jones smiles approval on stolid Jack Downes; he likes coolness and self-command. Before he can speak, Lieutenant Mayrant comes aft to say that the _Richard_ is on fire. “Catches from the enemy’s wadding,” says Lieutenant Mayrant. “For you must understand, sir, that when the enemy’s eighteen-pounders are run out, their muzzles pierce through the shot-holes in our sides--we lay that close! As it is, they’ve set us all ablaze.” “But you’ve got the flames in hand?” Commodore Paul Jones puts the question confidently. He is sure that Lieutenant Mayrant wouldn’t be by his side at that moment unless the fire is under command. “Lieutenant Stack, with ten men to pass the buckets, sir, are attending to it. It’s quite easy, the water in our hold being so deep. They have but to dip it up and throw it on the fire.” “Good!” exclaimed Commodore Paul Jones. “Now that’s what I call making one hand wash the other. We put out the flames that are eating us up with the water that is sinking us.” CHAPTER XVII--THE SURRENDER OF THE “SERAPIS” Master-at-arms John Burbank looks over the _Richard_‘s side, and makes a discovery. The ship has settled three feet below its trim. Thereupon he loses his head, which was never a strong head, but somewhat thick, and addled: “The ship is sinking!” he shouts; then, being a humanitarian, he tears off the orlop-hatch, and calls to the two hundred prisoners shut up below to save themselves. At the invitation of Humanitarian Burbank, the prisoners rush up. Fifty of them have gained the deck when Commodore Paul Jones perceives them. Pulling a pistol from his belt, he charges forward. “Who released these prisoners?” he demands. “The ship is sinking, sir,” replies Humanitarian Burbank. “I released them to give them a chance for their lives.”