the "Serapis," that few of
the Englishmen knew that the ship had been surrendered. As Mayrant
came aboard, he was mistaken for the leader of a boarding-party, and
run through the thigh with a pike.

Capt. Pearson was found standing alone upon the quarter-deck,
contemplating with a sad face the shattered condition of his once
noble ship, and the dead bodies of his brave fellows lying about the
decks. Stepping up to him, Lieut. Dale said,--

"Sir, I have orders to send you on board the ship alongside."

At this moment, the first lieutenant of the "Serapis" came up hastily,
and inquired,--

"Has the enemy struck her flag?"

"No, sir," answered Dale. "On the contrary, you have struck to us."

Turning quickly to his commander, the English lieutenant asked,--

"Have you struck, sir?"

"Yes, I have," was the brief reply.

"I have nothing more to say," remarked the officer, and turning about
was in the act of going below, when Lieut. Dale stopped him, saying,--

"It is my duty to request you, sir, to accompany Capt. Pearson on
board the ship alongside."

"If you will first permit me to go below," responded the other, "I
will silence the firing of the lower deck guns."

"This cannot be permitted," was the response; and, silently bowing his
head, the lieutenant followed his chief to the victorious ship, while
two midshipmen went below to stop the firing.

Lieut. Dale remained in command of the "Serapis." Seating himself on
the binnacle, he ordered the lashings which had bound the two ships
throughout the bloody conflict to be cut. Then the head-sails were
braced back, and the wheel put down. But, as the ship had been
anchored at the beginning of the battle, she refused to answer either
helm or canvas. Vastly astounded at this, Dale leaped from the
binnacle; but his legs refused to support him, and he fell heavily to
the deck. His followers sprang to his aid; and it was found that the
lieutenant had been severely wounded in the leg by a splinter, but had
fought out the battle without ever noticing his hurt.

So ended this memorable battle. But the feelings of pride and
exultation so natural to a victor died away in the breast of the
American captain as he looked about the scene of wreck and carnage. On
all sides lay the mutilated bodies of the gallant fellows who had so
bravely stood to their guns amid the storm of death-dealing missiles.
There they lay, piled one on top of the other,--some with their
agonized wr