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Just as the words were out of his mouth the quartermaster turned suddenly and saw Paul Jones’s stern eyes fixed on him. The first lieutenant, on making his last round, had come unexpectedly upon Bill, who knew better than to express such opinions about the commodore.

A dead silence followed. Paul Jones did not speak, but the look in his eye commanded discretion to Bill, who immediately began fumbling about the lanterns and instructing Danny in his duty.

The incident, though, made a deep impression upon Paul Jones. “If that is the feeling among the men, there is little hope of capturing the British ship,” he thought bitterly to himself.

He then went above, and just as his foot touched the deck he heard the frigate, which was now close upon them, hail the black brig.

“Who are you, and where are you bound?”

The black brig answered: “This is the Betsy, from Plymouth. Who are you?”

Every ear was strained to catch the answer. It came ringing over the smooth water:

“This is His Majesty’s ship Glasgow, of twenty-four guns.”