Many accounts have been written over the past two centuries of John Paul Jones’ celebrated victory at the Battle of Flamborough Head, the 23 September 1779 engagement fought between Jones’ American-French squadron—the Bonhomme Richard, Alliance, Pallas, and Vengeance—and a pair of Royal Navy ships—HMS Serapis and Countess of Scarborough—escorting a fleet from the Baltic, principally carrying naval stores.
Historians have had access to a handful of well-known shipboard reports. From the Bonhomme Richard come the accounts of Jones (in several slightly different versions written over the years), Midshipman Nathaniel Fanning, Quarter-Gunner John Kilby, and First Lieutenant Richard Dale. From the Alliance come the lengthy defensive declarations of her controversial French captain, Pierre Landais (who had clashed repeatedly with Jones and whose performance in this battle came under scrutiny); from the Pallas, a short statement from her captain, Denis de Cottineau. These were augmented by affidavits written by the crews of the Bonhomme Richard and Alliance as well as by comments included in the logbook of the former vessel, continued after the battle on board the captured Serapis by Second Lieutenant Henry Lunt and another hand (possibly Midshipman Beaumont Groube).
On the British side, however, accounts have been limited to the understandably terse, strictly factual reports of Captains Richard Pearson of the Serapis and Thomas Piercy of the Countess of Scarborough, written that October from captivity at the Texel in the neutral Netherlands, where Jones’ squadron ended its voyage.
Now, however, two more British accounts have come to light during the author’s research into the circumstances surrounding the battle. Neither of these accounts has been quoted or referenced in any previous work, leading to the assumption that they have remained forgotten until now.
The longer of the two was written on 14 October 1779 by one of the Serapis’ six midshipmen, David Jordan (1757–91), while imprisoned on board the Alliance. Jordan was a native of the small port of Sandwich in the English county of Kent, and his letter appeared solely in the local paper, the Kentish Gazette, on 20 November 1779, probably submitted by a proud family member. It was not republished subsequently.
The second rediscovered account was written by First Lieutenant Richard Sainthill (1739–1829) of the Countess of Scarborough and published in The United Service Journal and Naval and Military Magazine, 1830, part 1, 32–37, then republished verbatim by Sainthill’s numismatist son in An Olla Podrida; or Scraps, Numismatic, Antiquarian, and Literary (London: Nichols & Son, 1844, 292–339).
Although the narratives do not conflict with the two British captains’ accounts, the unearthed documents do provide much detail, which effectively means that a definitive account of the battle is yet to be written.
Bonhomme Richard vs. Serapis—Midshipman Jordan’s Account
On the 23rd of September, at daylight, we made the land, Scarborough Castle very near and Flamborough Head more to the southward of us; under our convoy, at this time, about 45 sail of vessels. . . . The wind being contrary, our convoy stood in there and anchored under Scarborough Castle. We and the Countess of Scarborough (a 20-gun ship in government service) stretched off the land, in order to get to windward of the hindmost of our convoy. . . . At noon came on board a customhouse boat from Scarborough . . . to give us intelligence of American vessels that had much pestered their coast. . . . The boat departed, and we kept a good lookout from the mast head.
I dined with the lieutenants in the ward room; our chief topic was these Americans. As the signal guns were very brisk, and very near, we conceived it must be John Paul (known by the name of Paul Jones) and his squadron, the man that plundered Lord Selkirk’s house about 12 months since, and set fire to Whitehaven, which town he came from, and his father a gardener of Lord Selkirk’s. Before we had drank our toast ’round, we were disturbed with the beat for all hands to quarters as four vessels just hove in sight, three appearing very large; we immediately made the signal for the Countess of Scarborough to close under our stern, and we hoisted English colours.
We soon perceived they had all the sail they could crowd, coming right down to us; and, then by squareness of their yards, were certain they were men of war, but of what nation could not form any judgment. There being but little wind they came up very slow. Just after sun set, their fastest sailing ship (this very frigate I write from) came within random shot, and perceiving our force lay to for the other vessels. . . . About half past seven, their ships being all near us, the largest, Paul Jones’s ship, bore close to us, and hoisted American colours; but it being so dark, we thought them St. George’s. . . . Our captain, to be certain, hailed her. . . . We hailed again and told him, if he did not tell us from whence he came we would fire into him (at this time we were very close, within half pistol shot, but being so dark could not distinguish his colours); immediately we saw the flash of one of his lower-deckers; by that flash I saw he was an American, the first I ever saw.
No sooner was the flash from his gun, but we gave him a broadside instantaneously, and he as soon. He was so close that every shot told; only a few yards distance; no time to be lost; we hauled the dead and wounded from the guns and fired as fast as we could load for some time.
We at this time were laying to; but perceiving Jones’s intention was to lay us on board our bow, the guns being all loaded at this time, we filled on our ship, clapped the helm hard a-port, and threw him with his bow on our beam, and raked him fore and aft a long time.
He then dropt on our quarter; our great guns not being able to bear upon him, there was great execution done with the musquetry on both sides. We then fell off from him, and up close alongside, his yardarms just touching and short ahead; but as he passed, there was bloody work on both sides; as we were [so close he attempted to run his ship into our] bow; and so very near effecting it, that he carried away our jib-boom.
Our best men (the boatswain and one midshipman including with them) kept up an incessant fire on Jones’s ship, whose bow touched ours; their forecastle men being all killed, wounded, or deserted from their guns, we had the play in our own hands for more than 15 minutes, till at last poor fellows, but fine fellows, they were all killed, except one man, 13 in number. As soon as the ships cleared forward, we shot close alongside each other, the ships touching all the way; and as fast as we, or they, could bring guns to bear we fired and had every advantage we could wish.
I must tell you, when Jones carried away our jib-boom for fear we should get too far off, he took a turn with our jib-stay round his mizzenmast. Their ships being a number of feet higher than ours, and three of their lower-deckers bursting, and the rest silenced, their upper deck guns just raked our boats, booms, &c., the men on our upper-deck guns (being most part killed and wounded by the hand-grenades and musquetry from their tops which were lined with people) did but little execution, two or three excepted, which kept up a constant fire on her stern post and rudder; our lower-deckers playing through and through, every shot taking between wind and water on the upper side, and the two foremost eighteens, with the two foremost nine-pounders, knocked her stern post, rudder and transom entirely away, and the wads, sticking in her side, set her on fire in many places.
Her upper-deck guns being close to our barricado of hammocks, &c, set them all on fire, they communicated to our shrouds, so that both ships at times were on fire fore and aft, and it was enough to do to extinguish it, as they played on us from their tops as we hove in sight. We lost many bold fellows by it. Our first lieutenant I saw fired at from all parts of Jones’s ship as he was putting the fire out in the main shrouds; not one shot hurt him; they shot every part of his clothes, cap &c.
About three quarters of an hour before we struck, the fire from one of their guns came in at one of our lower deck ports at the same time as a man was putting a cartridge into the gun, which blew up, and communicated to many more on the same deck, which blew up also, with about 40 seamen. The flame went into our cockpit and blew up the two surgeon’s mates, from whence the fire went into the magazine-passage and fortunately no further (or I should never have told you the story).
This was a terrible stroke on us, losing so many men at once. Some people . . . who thought the ship was on fire and . . . would blow up, jumped overboard. . . . Jones’s ship . . . was sinking alongside of us, and the people coming on board to save themselves; we not knowing the meaning of this, being very deaf, piked them as fast as they came on our gunwale, and they dropped overboard; they that were on board immediately cried, “We have struck [colors], the ship’s a’sinking.” We took no notice, as they had not ceased firing—for Jones would have sunk ship, men, and himself before he would have struck. When they told him his ship was sinking, [Jones said] “Let her sink and be damn’d, she cannot [sink] in a better place than alongside an English man-of-war.”
. . . The boatswain went on board [the Bonhomme Richard] to take possession of her; he was received with a Frenchman’s smallsword in his groin and another lunge in his breast; he came on board again and died instantly.
. . . Immediately I took a large cutlass and jumped on the gunwale of [the Bonhomme Richard’s] quarterdeck, I was received with pikes and fixed bayonets at my breast, but perceiving them before they lunged, . . . [I] jumped off her gunwale backwards, and then sprang into our waste among some steering sails that were on fire, never hurting myself but a little in my arms and legs.
Full of spleen, I immediately went to the captain on the quarterdeck and informed him of my repulse, which surprised him much; we then fired our lower-deckers, the ships being so close. . . . After engaging this ship about two hours and a half, the Alliance had worked up under our stern, and began to rake us very hot, so much, that the men on our upper deck at the after guns, were obliged to lie on their faces.
Seeing this, and considering the number of men blown up, with the number killed and wounded . . . and [that] our yardarms [were] locked in with the Bonhomme Richard’s [and] could not bring one gun to bear on her, Pearson struck [our colours]—like a Captain Pearson—not a Jones who would have suffered himself and crew to have gone in one grave; no, Pearson loved his men too well to sacrifice them to obstinacy.
Pearson, as soon as struck, went on board of Jones and gave himself up as prisoner of war, with this salute to Jones, “I hope you will use us as well as we have fought you well.” He answered he would.
I went into the cockpit of our ship, and such a scene I never beheld or conceived; the dead all lying on the living, and the contrary; some without arms, and some without legs, bleeding to death for want of dressing, there being many, and two doctors out of three blown up, could not be served fast enough. The terrible appearance the blown-up men had, I never shall forget.
I went to the doctor’s cabin and got a drink of grog, for I was almost famished, and then went to my berth in the main hatchway. . . . My best companion and friend, [Midshipman William] Brown, shook his head and held out his hand . . .; curiosity led me to look at his wound. I saw it was mortal; his insides hung out of a shot hole in his belly. He shook hands again, and I put a pillow under his head, which was an old jacket. He’s gone, with many more, and if anyone has right to hope for happiness, I conceive he has, for he was what I wish to be.
I took out of my trunk what trifles I had, with my watch, and went up on deck, there I saw young [George Edward] Roby, [second lieutenant of marines]. He informed me he had just parted with my messmate, [Midshipman] George Ludwig, who had received a ball in his breast; he took Roby by the hand, wished he might not come to that, and died. I looked a little about me, and there I saw my own boy (for so I must call him, he used always to call me father), the sweetest child I ever beheld, lie dead with a shot through his heart. This child was a midshipman, and in my berth and mess, put in by Captain Pearson, and under my care. His name was [William] Bunting.
. . . Our engagement lasted about three hours, or three and a quarter. We lost no captain or lieutenants, nay not one wounded. . . . My berth mate [Midshipman William Popplewell], who was stationed on the upper deck with me, is shot through one arm, and through his back, I am in hopes he will live. [He subsequently died of his wounds.] Every man was killed or wounded at the five guns I was stationed at, except two and myself. . . .
Captain Jones has shifted his American colours on board the Serapis. Good God, I have forgot to inform you of the Bonhomme Richard’s fate. You remember I told you she was shot through and through to a degree (though all her pumps was going, which was but three, for we shot one through) that they could scarce keep her above water.
The next day, being little wind and no sea, the Serapis was towed off by this ship [the Alliance], and the Bonhomme Richard had all the assistance possible from her fleet. Notwithstanding all their carpenters and mechanics of all sorts, assisted by calm weather, to the great joy of all us prisoners, down she went.
Alas, Poor Richard! For she was named from an almanack of [Benjamin] Franklin’s called the Poor Richard, and then altered to the Bonhomme Richard, the “Good Man Richard.” I have since conversed with the carpenter of this ship concerning her, an old experienced man. He said never did he see or hear of a ship shot in such a manner. Her decks were shot through and through so much that her midshipman [Nathaniel Fanning, who used the same phraseology in his memoir] told me “you might drive a coach and six through.” There were whole planks knocked out of her sides. We passed very near as she was sinking. I never beheld anything so battered.
Pallas vs. Countess of Scarborough—Lieutenant Sainthill’s Account
In addition to the main ship-on-ship fight between the Bonhomme Richard and Serapis, the Battle of Flamborough Head also included the engagement fought between the Serapis’ smaller consort, HMS Countess of Scarborough, and the French frigate Pallas, a converted merchantman in Jones’ squadron. Apart from the short post-battle report by the Countess of Scarborough’s captain, the newly rediscovered letter written by First Lieutenant Richard Sainthill is the only account surviving from a member of her crew.
The letter, most likely written to his future father-in-law, was composed during Sainthill’s short captivity (probably on board the Pallas) at the Texel. His correspondence adds valuable details on the prelude to the battle, the ships involved, and the aftermath to the sinking of the Bonhomme Richard:
Dear Sir,—I have no doubt of your having heard long before this of our misfortune in being taken, the particulars of which are as follows. On the 23d ult., being then in company with his Majesty’s Ship Serapis and the convoy from Elsineur, about four o’clock in the afternoon, several of the merchant ships to windward hoisted their colours at the masthead and fired guns; and soon after we spoke with one of them, who acquainted us that a boat had been aboard of him, and informed him that the ships which were then in sight off Flamborough Head, were a French squadron, consisting of two ships of 40 guns, one of 36, and a snow [a vessel with a square-rigged foremast and mainmast and a third small “snow-mast” carrying a fore-and-aft gaff sail].
The Serapis being then about four miles to leeward, we immediately bore away, made the signal to speak with her, and cleared the ship for action. About half past five, our captain went on board to receive directions from Captain Pearson, and soon returned with orders to keep in a close line of battle astern of the Serapis. We then backed our main-topsail and laid by for the enemy’s ships, which were coming down with all their sail set, there being little wind.
We afterwards found them to be the Bonhomme Richard, of 40 guns, commanded by Paul Jones, who was the commodore; the Alliance, of 36 guns, an American frigate commanded by a Frenchman; the Pallas, a French frigate under American colours; and a snow, of 12 guns.
About half-past seven, the Bonhomme Richard began the engagement with the Serapis; at the same time the Alliance fired her broadside into us, which we returned, and continued engaging her about half an hour, when she got so far astern, that our guns could not be brought to bear on her, nor did she seem desirous of again coming up.
By this time the Pallas, which sailed heavily and had not yet been able to come up, was near us, and in a few minutes came under our stern and gave us her broadside. We then continued to engage her nearly one hour and a half, when our ship—being much damaged in her hull, mast, and rigging, the braces, bowlings, &c. being shot away, seven of our guns dismounted, and 25 men killed and wounded—we struck to this ship, which had behaved nobly.
The Alliance, which had all this time kept astern, now came up and hailed our ship, and then stood under an easy sail towards the Serapis, which had from the beginning been literally yardarm-engaged with Jones, the ships being lashed alongside each other so that the lower-deck guns of each could not be run out, and both ships were several times on fire.
In this situation, the Serapis, having engaged both ships for some time, was also under the necessity of striking, and soon after her mainmast went overboard. The Bonhomme Richard was almost torn to pieces, had seven feet of water in her hold, and was on fire near the magazine at this time. Captain Pearson was in this dreadful situation a great part of the night, in danger of being blown up or sinking, which certainly would have happened if the weather had not been very fine.
The following day they got out the powder and all the men, except a few of the wounded; and we had the satisfaction to see the Bonhomme Richard go down. The number of killed and wounded it is impossible to give you any account of at present, but you must suppose it is very considerable; perhaps, near 300 in this ship; and upwards of 100 in the Serapis; in the Pallas 16 or 18, who are all dead.
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