“Stop the firing, sir,” cries Lieutenant May-rant, for the Richard’s top-men are still blazing away merrily. “He has struck his flag. Come on board, and take possession!” Lieutenant Dale leaps to the deck of the beaten _Serapis_. He sends Captain Pearson aboard the _Richard_. Downcast, eye full of dejection, Captain Pearson approaches Commodore Paul Jones. “With bowed head, saying never a word, he tenders the conqueror his sheathed sword. Commodore Paul Jones takes it and gives it to Midshipman Potter, who is at his elbow. “I accept your sword, Captain,” says Commodore Paul Jones. “And I bear testimony that you have worn it to the glory of the English navy.” Captain Pearson makes no response. Bowed of head, mute of lip, he stands before Commodore Paul Jones, despair eating his heart. CHAPTER XVIII--DIPLOMACY AND THE DUTCH Commodore Paul Jones goes aboard the beaten _Serapis_. “Cut free that sta’board anchor!” he cries. The piled dead and wounded are lifted aside, and that fatal anchor, which for two hours of blood has been as the backbone of battle, goes splashing into the ocean. The ships rock apart; as they separate, Commodore Paul Jones takes a sharp survey of the _Richard_. The survey brings little hope; his good ship that has fought so well for him lies in the water four smothering feet below its trim. “There are eight feet of water in the hold,” replies Lieutenant Dale, whom he hails. “The pumps choke; there’s no chance to save the ship.” Then arises a sudden rending and tearing aboard the _Serapis_; there is a great swish! and a snapping of cordage. It is the mainmast crashing to port, a tangle of ropes and spars. “Beg pardon, sir,” says a voice at the elbow of Commodore Paul Jones. “I’d have had it down an hour ago, but there was neither wind nor swell to help me. I had to cut it in two shot by shot to drop it, sir.” Commodore Paul Jones breaks into a smile. “Ah, yes; I remember, Mr. Lindthwait! I set you at that mainmast with the three long nines. I wish now that I’d given you another target. However, you did extremely well. It should teach you, too, my lad, that a nine is as good as an eighteen, if you’ll only go close enough. That’s it; there’s the whole secret of success in war. Be sure and go close enough, and you will conquer.” Midshipman Lindthwait salutes respectfully, and lays away that golden rule of the battle art in his memory. The removal of the _Richard_‘s wounded is begun. The calm, windless sea assists; at last no one is left aboard the shot-pierced _Richard_ but the dead. Sixty lionhearts, who gave their lives for victory, are laid side by side on the deck. The petticoat flag flies proudly from the ensign gaff. Commodore Paul Jones, from the deck of the _Serapis_, watches the _Richard_ to the last. The tears dim his sight, and he is driven more than once to dash them away; for a sailor loves his ship as though it were a woman.