"To return. The Serapis, as I have said, was but just built. She
had been launched that spring. She was one of the first 44-gun
frigates that were ever built in the world. We (the English) were
the first naval power to build frigates, as now understood, at
all. I believe the name is Italian, but in the Mediterranean it
means a very different thing. We had little ships-of-the-line,
which were called fourth-rates, and which fought sixty, and even
as low as fifty guns; they had two decks, and a quarter-deck
above. But just as I came into the service, the old Phoenix and
Rainbow and Roebuck were the only 44s we had: they were successful
ships, and they set the Admiralty on building 44-gun frigates,
which, even when they carried 50 guns, as we did, were quite
different from the old fourth-rates. Very useful vessels they
proved. I remember the Romulus, the Ulysses, the Actæon, and the
Endymion: the Endymion fought the President forty years after. As
I say, the Serapis was one of a batch of these vessels launched in
the spring of 1779.
"We had been up the Cattegat that summer, waiting for what was
known as the Baltic fleet.[I] If there were room and time, I could
tell you good stories of the fun we had at Copenhagen. At last we
got the convoy together, and got to sea,--no little job in that
land-locked sailing. We got well across the North Sea, and, for
some reason, made Sunderland first, and afterwards Scarborough.
"We were lying close in with Scarborough, when news came off that
Paul Jones, with a fleet, was on the coast. Captain Pearson at
once tried to signal the convoy back,--for they were working down
the coast towards the Humber,--but the signals did no good till
they saw the enemy themselves, and then they scud fast enough,
passing us, and running into Scarborough harbor. We had not a
great deal of wind, and the other armed vessel we had, the
Countess of Scarborough, was slow, so that I remember we lay to
for her. Jones was as anxious as we were to fight. We neared each
other steadily till seven in the evening or later. The sun was
down, but it was full moon,--and as we came near enough to speak,
we could see everything on his ship. At that time the Poor Richard
was the only ship we had to do with. His other ships were after
our consort. The Richard was a queer old French Indiaman, you
know. She was the first French ship-of-war I had ever seen. She
had six guns on her lower deck, and six ports on each side
there,--meaning to fight all these guns on the same side. On her
proper gun-deck, above these, she had fourteen guns on each
side,--twelves and nines. Then she had a high quarter, and a high
forecastle, with eight more guns on these,--having, you know, one
of those queer old poops you see in old pictures. She was,
therefore, a good deal higher than we; for our quarter-deck had
followed the fashion and come down. We fought twenty guns on our
lower deck, twenty on our upper deck, and on the forecastle and
quarter-deck we had ten little things,--fifty guns,--not unusual,
you know, in a vessel rated as a forty-four. We had twenty-two in
broadside. I remember I supposed for some time that all French
ships were black, because the Richard was.
"As I said, I was on the main deck, aft. We were all lying
stretched out in the larboard ports to see and hear what we could,
when Captain Pearson himself hailed, "What ship is that?" I could
not hear their answer, and he hailed again, and then said, if they
did not answer, he would fire. We all took this as good as an
order, and, hearing nothing, tumbled in and blazed away. The Poor
Richard fired at the same time. It was at that first broadside of
hers, as you remember, that two of Jones's heavy guns, below his
main deck, burst. We could see that as we sighted for our next
broadside, because we could see how they hove up the gun-deck
above them. As for our shot, I suppose they all told. We had ten
eighteen-pounders in that larboard battery below. I do not see why
any shot should have failed.
"However, he had no thought of being pounded to pieces by his own
firing and ours, and so he bore right down on us. He struck our
quarter, just forward of my forward gun,--struck us hard, too. We
had just fired our second shot, and then he closed, so I could not
bring our two guns to bear. This was when he first tried to fasten
the ships together. But they would not stay fastened. He could not
bring a gun to bear,--having no forward ports that served
him,--till we fell off again, and it was then that Captain Pearson
asked, in that strange stillness, if he had struck. Jones
answered, 'I have not begun to fight.' And so it proved. Our sails
were filled, he backed his top-sails, and we wore short round. As
he laid us athwart-hawse, or as we swung by him, our jib-boom ran
into his mizzen-rigging. They say Jones himself then fastened our
boom to his mainmast. Somebody did, but it did not hold, but one
of our anchors hooked his quarter, and so we fought, fastened
together, to the end,--both now fighting our starboard batteries,
and being fixed stern to stem.
"On board the Serapis our ports were not open on the starboard
side, because we had been firing on the other. And as we ran
across and loosened those guns, the men amidships actually found
they could not open their ports, the Richard was so close. They
therefore fired their first shots right through our own port-lids,
and blew them off. I was so far aft that my port-lids swung free.
"What I said, in beginning this letter, will explain to you the
long continuance of the action after this moment, when, you would
say, it must be ended by boarding, or in some other way, very
soon. As soon as we on our main deck got any idea of the Richard's
main deck, we saw that almost nobody replied to us there. In
truth, two of the six guns which made her lower starboard battery
had burst, and Jones's men would not fight what were left, nor do
I blame them. Above, their gun-deck had been hoisted up, and, as
it proved the next day, we were cutting them right through. We
pounded away at what we could see,--and much more at what we could
not see,--for it was now night, and there was a little smoke, as
you may fancy. But above, the Richard's upper deck was a good deal
higher than ours, and there Jones had dragged across upon his
quarter a piece from the larboard battery, so that he had three
nine-pounders, with which he was doing his best, almost raking us,
as you may imagine. No one ever said so to me, that I know, but I
doubt whether we could get elevation enough from any of our light
guns on our upper deck (nines) to damage his battery much, he was
so much higher than we. As for musketry, there is not much
sharp-shooting when you are firing at night in the smoke, with the
decks swaying under you.
"Many a man has asked me why neither side boarded,--and, in fact,
there is a popular impression that Jones took our ship by
boarding, as he did not. As to that, such questions are easier
asked than answered. This is to be said, however: about ten
o'clock, an English officer, who had commanded the Union
letter-of-marque, which Jones had taken a few days before, came
scrambling through one of our ports from the Richard. He went up
aft to Captain Pearson at once, and told him that the Richard was
sinking, that they had had to release all her prisoners (and she
had hundreds) from the hold and spar-deck, himself among them,
because the water came in so fast, and that, if we would hold on a
few minutes more, the ship was ours. Every word of this was true,
except the last. Hearing this, Captain Pearson--who, if you
understand, was over my head, for he kept the quarter-deck almost
throughout--hailed to ask if they had struck. He got no answer,
Jones in fact being at the other end of his ship, on his quarter,
pounding away at our main-mast. Pearson then called for boarders;
they were formed hastily, and dashed on board to take the prize.
But the Richard had not struck, though I know some of her men had
called for quarters. Her men were ready for us,--under cover,
Captain Pearson says in his despatch,--Jones himself seized a pike
and headed his crew, and our men fell back again. One of the
accounts says we tried to board earlier, as soon as the vessels
were made fast to each other. But of this I knew nothing.
"Meanwhile Jones's people could not stay on his lower deck,--and
could not do anything, if they had stayed there. They worked their
way above. His main deck (of twelves) was fought more
successfully, but his great strength was on his upper deck and in
his tops. To read his own account, you would almost think he
fought the battle himself with his three quarter-deck cannon, and
I suppose it would be hard to overstate what he did do. Both he
and Captain Pearson ascribe the final capture of the Serapis to
this strange incident.
"The men in the Richard's tops were throwing hand-grenades upon
our decks, and at last one fellow worked himself out to the end of
the main-yard with a bucket filled with these missiles, lighted
them one by one, and threw them fairly down our main hatchway.
Here, as our ill luck ordered, was a row of our eighteen-gun
cartridges, which the powder-boys had left there as they went for
more,--our fire, I suppose, having slackened there:--cartridges
were then just coming into use in the navy. One of these grenades
lighted the row, and the flash passed--bang--bang--bang--back to
me. Oh, it was awful! Some twenty of our men were fairly blown to
pieces. There were other men who were stripped naked, with nothing
on but the collars of their shirts and their wristbands. Farther
aft there was not so much powder, perhaps, and the men were
scorched or burned more than they were wounded. I do not know how
I escaped, but I do know that there was hardly a man forward of my
guns who did escape,--some hurt,--and the groaning and shrieking
were terrible. I will not ask you to imagine all this,--in the
utter darkness of smoke and night below-decks, almost every
lantern blown out or smashed. But I assure you I can remember it.
There were agonies there which I have never trusted my tongue to
tell. Yet I see, in my journal, in a boy's mock-man way, this is
passed by, as almost nothing. I did not think so or feel so, I can
tell you.
"It was after this that the effort was made to board. I know I had
filled some buckets of water from our lee ports, and had got some
of the worst hurt of my men below, and was trying to understand
what Brooks, who was jammed, but not burned, thought we could do,
to see if we could not at least clear things enough to fight one
gun, when boarders were called, and he left me. Cornish, who had
really been captain of the other gun, was badly hurt, and had gone
below. Then came the effort to board, which, as I say, failed; and
that was really our last effort. About half-past ten, Captain
Pearson struck. He was not able to bring a gun to bear on the
Alliance, had she closed with us; his ship had been on fire a
dozen times, and the explosion had wholly disabled our main
battery, which had been, until this came, our chief strength. But
so uncertain and confused was it all, that I know, when I heard
the cry, 'They've struck,' I took it for granted it was the
Richard. In fact, Captain Pearson had struck our flag with his own
hands. The men would not expose themselves to the fire from the
Richard's tops. Mr. Mayrant, a fine young fellow, one of Jones's
midshipmen, was wounded in boarding us after we struck, because
some of our people did not know we had struck. I know, when
Wallis, our first lieutenant, heard the cry, he ran
up-stairs,--supposing that Jones had struck to us, and not we to
him.
"It was Lieutenant Dale who boarded us. He is still living, a fine
old man, at Philadelphia. He found Captain Pearson on the lee of
our quarter-deck again, and said,--
"'Sir, I have orders to send you on board the ship along-side.'
"Up the companion comes Wallis, and says to Captain Pearson,--
"'Have they struck?'
"'No, Sir,' said Dale,--'the contrary: he has struck to us.'
"Wallis would not take it, and said to Pearson,--
"'Have you struck, Sir?'
"And he had to say he had. Wallis said, 'I have nothing more to
say,' and turned to come down to us, but Dale would not let him.
Wallis said he would silence the lower-deck guns, but Dale sent
some one else, and took them both aboard the Richard. Little
Duval--a volunteer on board, not yet rated as midshipman--went
with them. Jones gave back our captain's sword, with the usual
speech about bravery,--but they quarrelled awfully afterwards.
"I suppose Paul Jones was himself astonished when daylight showed
the condition of his ship. I am sure we were. His ship was still
on fire: ours had been a dozen times, but was out. Wherever our
main battery could hit him, we had torn his ship to
pieces,--knocked in and knocked out the sides. There was a
complete breach from the main-mast to the stern. You could see the
sky and sea through the old hulk anywhere. Indeed, the wonder was
that the quarter-deck did not fall in. The ship was sinking fast,
and the pumps would not free her. For us, our jib-boom had been
wrenched off at the beginning; our main-mast and mizzentop fell as
we struck, and at day-break the wreck was not cleared away. Jones
put Lieutenant Lunt on our vessel that night, but the next day he
removed all his wounded, and finally all his people, to the
Serapis, and at ten the Poor Richard went to the bottom. I have
always wondered that your Naval Commissioners never named another
frigate for her.
"And so, my dear boy, I will stop. I hope in God, it will never be
your fate to see such a fight, or any fight, between an English
and an American frigate.
"We drifted into Holland. Our wounded men were sent into hospital
in the fort of the Texel. At last we were all transferred to the
French Government as prisoners, and that winter we were exchanged.
The Serapis went into the French navy, and the only important
result of the affair in history was that King George had to make
war with Holland. For, as soon as we were taken into the Texel,
the English minister claimed us of the Dutch. But the Dutch
gentlemen said they were neutrals, and could not interfere in the
Rebel quarrel. "Interfere or fight," said England,--and the first
clause of the manifesto which makes war with Holland states this
grievance, that the Dutch would not surrender us when asked for.
That is the way England treats neutrals who offer hospitality to
rebels."
So ends the letter. I suppose the old gentleman got tired of writing. I
have observed that the end of all letters is more condensed than the
beginning. Mr. Weller, indeed, pronounces the "sudden pull-up" to be the
especial charm of letter-writing. I had a mind to tell what the old
gentleman saw of Kempenfelt and the Royal George, but this is enough. As
Denis Duval scrambles across to Paul Jones's quarter-deck, at eleven
o'clock of that strange moonlight night, he vanishes from history.
* * * * *