This was said, of course, in the presence of the crews of both ships, and had a most demoralizing effect upon them. In a very little while both vessels began beating to and fro in a hesitating, alarmed way, showing no disposition to advance. “We’ll have to attack alone, I think,” said Ethan to the commander. “It looks very much like it,” replied Jones, bitterly. “But we will do it, for there is no halting or turning back now.” And so the Bon Homme Richard bore down upon the fleet alone. As the pilot of the collier had said, the Baltic merchantmen were convoyed by two vessels of war. One of these was the Serapis, a new and splendid ship, mounting forty-four guns on two decks and carrying a crew of three hundred and twenty men. The other was the Countess of Scarborough, armed with twenty-four guns on her main deck and with a ship’s company of one hundred and fifty men. As the Richard came down upon them some of the frightened merchantmen began firing with their light guns. An alarm spread through the fleet at the sound of the guns; the two men-of-war were astern of them all, keeping them in place; but now at the signals of danger they both came to the front with great promptness, while the convoy scurried toward the shore once more. Captain Pearson of the Serapis knew with whom he had to deal; a little time before the bailiff of Scarborough Castle had put off in a boat and informed him that John Paul Jones was operating on the coast. The Englishman trusted to the guns of Scarborough Castle to protect the merchantmen while they stood out to sea and prepared for action. It was night before the Richard came up with them, as the breeze was very light; about eight bells both British ships tacked and stood in for shore; Jones at once altered his course with a view of cutting them off. At sight of this manœuvre the skipper of the Pallas thought the crew of the Richard had mutinied in the face of the foe; so he hauled his wind quickly and stood out. Landais brought the Alliance to a long distance to windward, and most coolly awaited developments, never seeming to trouble himself a moment over the fact that his duty called him to render the Richard all the aid in his power. As the ship of John Paul Jones drew near, a deep voice from the quarter-deck of the Serapis hailed her. “Ahoy! What ship is that?” It was then a quarter past eight; the moon swung like a great disc of silver in the heavens; the sea was scarcely ruffled, so still was the air. It was Richard Dale who answered the hail. “Come a little nearer,” he shouted, “and we’ll tell you!” The tall poop and forecastle of the Richard seemed to excite derision upon the British ship; she stood hugely out of the water with an ark-like loom; and she had a dull, slow-moving air, vastly different from the smart and powerful Serapis. “What are you laden with, old Noah’s ark?” called the voice from the Englishman, and the question was accompanied by contemptuous laughter.