A laugh had erupted amongst the chaos. 

It belonged to no other than John Paul Jones. He stood on the deck, knowing that the ship was taking water fast, not only that but it had been set aflame. 

He only examined the deck, his eyes ablaze much like the building flames. 

The poor souls had made the wrong choice when they decided to take on John Paul and his crew. 

Jones's P.O.V

I took my knife from its hilt, and I couldn't do much more but grin. The British think they have us where they want us, the foolish bunch. I stood atop a crate and made eye contact with the opposing captain. 

"Jones! Surrender now, and your life shall be spared!" 

I laughed only once more. "Surrender? How can I surrender when I have not yet begun to fight?" 

The captain shot a glare and I only smiled in return. 

I could take these morons easily. 

I grabbed a rope, one that had formerly been used to hoist the sail. Placing the knife's grip between my teeth, I climbed to the crow's nest, ordering my crew to ready themselves. 

A cheer rang out amongst them and I glared back at the opposing crew. 

They too had begun to ready themselves. 

Too simple... 

... 

Watching as the Ole' Bonhomme was taken by the sea, I couldn't help but be glad that we had gotten onto the opposing ship. The Brits weren't all that happy, but who would be? I am one of the most feared captains, and I won't surrender without a fair fight.

Though, speaking of fighting...

I know we had been fighting for a couple of hours now, but that is no issue. We fought until we got what we wanted. (They were practically just Patriotic Pirates.) 

Shots rang out all around, but I doubt one member of my crew would be all that damaged. The worse that could happen is fatalities. And those men shall be honored. 

Jumping a member of the opposing, I quickly began holding him in a choke-hold. 

"Where's yer captain?" 

The lad was desperate to break away from my grip, only to fail. Flailing about has never quite worked, only lead men to snap their own neck in the process. 

The boy had finally pointed to a portion of the ship that held the cabin. 

Hiding away, in the cabins, their captain was acting all the cowardly.

Grabbing the boy by his hair, I forced his chin up and I slit his throat. Throwing his body overboard, I laughed, moving towards the cabin. 

At least two of my men had joined my side as I kicked the door open. 

"Ahoy, Captain..." I sneered, moving forward. The man stood, drawing his knife. 

"Jones. You have won many fights, and you have pillaged many towns... But, fighting me, you will fail. This is where you surrender to the British!" 

"You have high assumptions for a Captain so cowardly..." 

The opposing Captain threw his knife, and I could care less. His accuracy had been way off. Way to the left. 

"You know, it might help if you practiced your accuracy..." I smirked, moving forward. I placed my knife back in the hilt, and I grabbed the captain by his ear, throwing him to the floor. "Now stand up and fight. If you are to die, you will die an honorable death. No running. If you lose, well, you'll simply be used in exchange for American sailors from the British. That is if I let you live..." 

Next thing known, the Captain had stood, a shake in his stature. 

"You're pitiful." I insulted, shoving the man. He stumbled back, catching himself on the wall. I noticed he had grabbed his knife, so with quick retaliation, I drew mine. 

The British captain ran forward, slashing at my face. I could only smile when the warm blood began to drip down my cheek. I wiped the blood with my shirt sleeve and I shot a glare at the man. 

I couldn't help but notice the fear that had arisen in the captain's eyes as I charged forward tackling him to the floor, launching his knife across the floor. Problem was, I had dropped mine as well. Regardless, I drew my fist back, hurling it forward to bust the man's nose. 

A sickening crack signaled that I had succeeded, and perhaps had broken his nose completely.

My arms were soon grabbed as the captain fought to get the upper hand, but the kicking and flailing barely caused pain. I tore my arm away, swinging at the man's face once more. 

He cried out in pain. 

"Are you ready to surrender yet?" I hissed, pulling him up to face me. 

"No, never! Not to you!" He sputtered, a bloody lip telling me all the otherwise. 

My breath caught in my throat as the man had suddenly grabbed my neck, forcing me back. I only left a glare on him as I attempted to tear his hands away. Moving one hand slowly to the side, I took hold of my knife, slashing at the man's neck. 

It had only caused bleeding. 

Damn it!

"Just surrender, Jones!! It's not worth fighting anymore!!" 

It's always worth fighting. For independence, for the United States, I am not losing this battle. 

Bringing my knee up, I forced it roughly against the man's stomach. His grip weakened, and I kicked him backward. His back met the floor, and his breath had practically left his body. I stood, walking over. This time, I took my pistol, and I pointed it to the man's head. 

He had started to get up when his forehead met with the cold steel. 

The captain couldn't help but finally admit that he was not strong enough to fight me. He put his hands behind his head as he got to his knees. He left a glare as he stared up, tears rolling down his face. I could only think him pathetic. A captain does not cry, not in front of his crew. Not when someone is taking over. 

You don't cry in the midst of battle. 

"Surrender," I demanded. 

He nodded, standing. I kept the pistol to the back of his head as he walked from the cabin. This could be an act, after all, and I will not take chances. 

When on the deck, the captain quivered, stalling his walking. 

Men were being thrown over the bow of the ship, many were lying dead. The Brits were failing.

It was a beautiful sight, in my eyes. 

I shoved the Captain forward slightly, pressing the pistol firmly against his scalp.

"Boys! Surrender!" The British man called, his voice breaking as he finally started crying. The crew, those that hadn't been killed or captured, turned. They followed the captain's orders, kneeling down, and placing their hands behind their head. They had finally given in after hours of battle.

They fought hard, but my men are quite the fighters. We're not ones to be beaten. 

And a crew, much larger than mine, seemed to be so much smaller now. 

I tied the British captain's wrists, forcing him up. "Take him to the bottom deck with the others. Lock them away." I ordered one of my men. Those of the British that had been killed were thrown overboard, and my men, those who were injured, are now getting treatment from the others.

This was a proud victory. 

Staring out among my men, I called their attention. "I am now in command of this ship! With the captain and the crew calling defeat, we are left to claim this ship as ours! The Serapis is ours!!" 

The men cheered, fists shooting into the air. I smiled, staring out along the sea. 

I can't help but ponder...

Which bastard wants to challenge us next?