ground into the enemy's weather quarter-gallery. For the Richard's
rigging was much cut away, and she was crank at best. So we backed and
filled once more, passing the Englishman close aboard, himself being
aback at the time. Several of his shot crushed through the bulwarks in
front of me, shattering a nine-pounder and killing half of its crew. And
it is only a miracle that I stand alive to be able to tell the tale.
Then I caught a glimpse of the quartermaster whirling the spokes of our
wheel, and over went our helm to lay us athwart the forefoot of the
'Serapis', where we might rake and rush her decks. Our old Indiaman
answered but doggedly; and the huge bowsprit of the Serapis, towering
over our heads, snapped off our spanker gaff and fouled our mizzen
rigging.

"A hawser, Mr. Stacey, a hawser!" I heard the commodore shout, and saw
the sailing-master slide down the ladder and grope among the dead and
wounded and mass of broken spars and tackles, and finally pick up a
smeared rope's end, which I helped him drag to the poop. There we found
the commodore himself taking skilful turns around the mizzen with the
severed stays and shrouds dangling from the bowsprit, the French marines
looking on.

"Don't swear, Mr. Stacey," said he, severely; "in another minute we may
all be in eternity."

I rushed back to my guns, for the wind was rapidly swinging the stern of
the Serapis to our own bow, now bringing her starboard batteries into
play. Barely had we time to light our snatches and send our broadside
into her at three fathoms before the huge vessels came crunching
together, the disordered riggings locking, and both pointed northward to
a leeward tide in a death embrace. The chance had not been given him to
shift his crews or to fling open his starboard gun-ports.

Then ensued a moment's breathless hush, even the cries of those in agony
lulling. The pall of smoke rolled a little, and a silver moonlight
filtered through, revealing the weltering bodies twisted upon the boards.
A stern call came from beyond the bulwarks.

"Have you struck, sir?"

The answer sounded clear, and bred hero-worship in our souls.

"Sir, I have not yet begun to fight."

Our men raised a hoarse yell, drowned all at once by the popping of
musketry in the tops and the bursting of grenades here and there about
the decks. A mighty muffled blast sent the Bon homme Richard rolling to
larboard, and the smoke eddied from our hatches and lifted out of th