Commodore John Paul Jones and the Battle at Flamborough Head

Relevant History welcomes Michael C. McCloskey, who has spent the last ten years studying American History at Millersville University and received his MA in 2013. His focus is on the colonial Atlantic world, and the development of American identity. Currently courting several doctorial programs, Michael looks forward to the day he will have a classroom of his own. He has also been active in Public History programs serving as historic interpreter at the Army Heritage Education Center during their time line events and guest lecturing on revolution and its causes, bringing alive the past for the next generation. For more information, connect with him on his web site at Millersville University.

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In looking at the American War for Independence, one of the more uncommon aspects is that of the United States Navy, and no one was more famed of that arm than Commodore John Paul Jones. Perhaps most famous for uttering the immortal words “I have not yet begun to fight…” in the Battle at Flamborough Head on the eastern coast of England touching the North Sea.[1] The war had not been going well for the colonists in 1779, and they needed a victory to help bolster their spirits and carry them on to fight until Cornwallis was defeated in 1781 at Yorktown, Virginia. That victory came in the form of Commodore Jones at the Battle of Flamborough Head. Outgunned and even in the face of treachery by one of his captains, he managed to escape what could have been an ignominious end and emerge the hero in a contest which seemed mismatched once the engagement began.[2]

The Engagement Begins
On the afternoon of 23 September 1779, a flotilla of supply troops arriving from the mouth of the Thames River was ferrying material from England for the war effort against the Americans.[3] It was just such a prize that Commodore Jones was waiting for. In the small squadron commanded by Commodore Jones was the Alliance commanded by Captain Pierre Landaise, the Pallas commanded by Captain Henry Lundt, and the cutter Vengeance. Coming around the cape was the H.M.S. Serapis of 50 guns commanded by Captain Richard Pearson RN. The Countess of Scarborough was not far along and commanded by Captain Thomas Piercy with a large number of ships in tow carrying supplies for the British.[4]

By 6:00 p.m. the battle began with Commodore Jones having the Stars and Stripes hoisted up the mainmast revealing his true intent. Even though the Bonhomme Richard was outgunned and facing a much more maneuverable enemy (the Serapis had a copper lined hull making her much faster and maneuverable than the Richard), Jones was relying on his squadron to help even the odds.[5] In the case of the Alliance, that was a trust misplaced, as we shall see. The other two vessels did what they could against the Countess of Scarborough keeping her busy while the Richard and Serapis faced off for the next three to four hours. Early on in the engagement, the Richard wound up running her bowsprit into the hull of the Serapis while maneuvering to gain advantage. Captain Pearson asked Commodore Jones if he was going to strike his colors. To which the immortal words were uttered “I have not yet begun to fight!” At which point the engagement renewed.[6]

A Questionable Alliance
While the Richard and Serapis were dancing with each other in the waters off the coast of England, the Alliance was keeping her distance, waiting to cut in, but not with the expected party. Meanwhile the Pallas engaged the convoy and the Countess of Scarborough, and the Vengeance could do little but watch the battle unfold. With the Richard and Serapis now locked, broadside to broadside, the Alliance began to maneuver closer, but instead of firing on the H.M.S. Serapis, Captain Landaise fired on the Richard! Not just once, but three times. It turns out, according to historian Samuel Eliot Morison, the commander of the Alliance had designs of sinking the Richard and taking the Serapis as a prize for himself and getting Commodore John Paul Jones out of the way in the same move, a shrewd but treacherous act indeed.[7] This act seemed to be a streak through many of the foreign commanders subordinated under Jones’s command throughout his life and demonstrates the complexity of the politics he had to navigate throughout his career and most especially during his final command in Russia.

The Alliance notwithstanding, Commodore Jones and Bonhomme Richard held on to the Serapis and both railed away at one another. Jones’s iron determination and sheer will seemed to keep the Richard afloat as the engagement got hot. Even many under the command of Jones on the Richard itself were ready to call for quarter and ask for terms. Commodore Jones did not allow for such an action. Finally at 10:30 in the evening, the mainmast of the Serapis began to give way, and Captain Pearson struck his colors. No easy task, as Morison relates that he nailed his colors to the mast, and owing to the loss of men to killed and wounded, he had to climb up top to strike them himself.[8] When Commodore Jones received Captain Pearson upon the deck of the Bonhomme Richard to accept his surrender, the ceremonies of war during the period were well observed, honor being done to both sides in the battle, much in contrast to the reputation of John Paul Jones as a pirate, rapacious and without mercy.

Consequences
After the battle, the Bonhomme Richard was so damaged that she wound up sinking the next morning, giving her last full measure to provide Commodore Jones with his victory that day. But what did that victory demonstrate? It lay plain to the people and government of England that a war fought an ocean away can be brought to their own back yard. The world was no longer as large as many thought it was. Also, while this convoy did have the good fortune to escape to a safe port while the Serapis and the Countess of Scarborough did their job engaging Jones and his small fleet, England’s merchant fleet ran the same risk as American colonial merchant ships, that of being taken as a prize of war. As a result the merchant fleets cried for naval protection.[9] England now had to reevaluate where to place its resources when mapping out a strategy. The war became “not so distant” anymore.

Footnotes
1. Barbara W. Tuchman, The First Salute, (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1988), p. 83
2. Samuel Eliot Morison, John Paul Jones, (New York: Time Incorporated, 1959), pp. 234, 235; Tuchman, The First Salute, p.110
3. Gardner W. Allen, A Naval History of the American Revolution, Vol 2, (New York: Russell & Russell Inc, 1962), pp. 456, 457
4. Morison, pp. 224-226
5. Ibid, pp. 226, 227
6. Tuchman, p. 83; Morison, p. 231
7. Morison, p. 235
8. Tuchman , p. 83; Morison, p. 237

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A big thanks to Michael McCloskey!

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The title “Father of the US Navy” (i.e., the progenitor of a fighting tradtion, and/or organizational founder) seems in retrospect to have evolved by fits and starts, with no guarantee that Jones would take the honors; to begin with his relationship with the Continental Congress was always that of an often-rejected supplicant, his largest command accruing through Benjamin Franklin in Europe. Decisive fleet action? In a strategic sense, that would be Benedict Arnold at Valcour Island – but, that involves Arnold. Washington’ schooner flotilla off Boston? Too much to expect the US Army and Navy to share joint lineage. Esek Hopkins and the 1775 New Providence expedition – certainly the first combined USN-USMC operation, but Hopkins was unlucky later on and lies buried beneath layers of historians’ antipathy. The privateer captains? Certainly they did the most damage to British shipping, but are tainted by commercialism. John Barry? Many single-ship victories, but none as dramatic as Flamborough Head. Joshua Humphreys, the Navy’s congressional advocate in 1775? Can’t really celebrate politicians as military innovators. Further on, Oliver Hazard Perry? Freshwater fights too esoteric a category. Stephen Decatur? His bloody end in a duel with a fellow captain a bit hard to explain. USS Constitution captains? After a spike in popularity in 1815, the ship was largely neglected until its 20th-century restoration, a bit late for myth-making. William Farragut? Mobile Bay arguably the USN’s biggest decisive victory until the Spanish War, but you really can’t celebrate sectional conflict heroes as effective national icons.

Jones’ slave trading past, killing of mutinous crew, and Russian service probably did him no favors during the 19th century. But, by the 1900’s Theodore Roosevelt was A. Mindful of the national pride boost Britain received by iconizing Horatio Nelson on the centennial of the Napoleonic Wars (plus the useful fetishization of the ‘Nelson touch’ by the Royal Navy); B. oversaw a spanking-new USN capacity to meet the European navies on equal terms for the first time; and C. was a sufficiently assiduous student of naval history to apply his own winnowing process, discerned the unique drama of Flamborough Head, and hence – the locating of Jones’ Paris grave, the destroyer escort back from
France, and the crypt at Annapolis.

Probably a bit late in the game; the age of the hard-charging broadsides captain peaked in World War I and closed with the Battle of Leyte Gulf in WW II. So, Jones as anything other than antiquarian inspiration probably never took hold at Annapolis, the careers of Nimitz, Halsey and Burke perhaps providing something more tangible for today’s seagoing service members to fixate on. (The 1950’s Robert Stack biopic of Jones being an interesting anomaly.) A trend which will doubtless continue as sea war turns more to stealth ships, submarines, and missile weaponry (John Keegan’s ’empty ocean’).

So, I am pessimistic about the future of Jones as national icon, but I am strongly influenced by the failures of the 1976 Bicentennial. For younger readers, the opportunity then to rediscover Revolutionary-era figures was largely squandered in a national fit of revulsion over Vietnam and Watergate, and no effort made at a flagship commemoration. The nearest equivalent, a floating parade of vintage sailing ships in New York, made no discernible mention of Jones, the Revolution at sea, or indeed demonstrated much connection to the events of 1776 at all. But, hope springs eternal
for the approaching 250th and the 2075 Tricentennial – looking at the rejuvenated interest caused by the recent recovery of the USS Monitor’s turret and the CSS Hunley, a locating and raising of the Bonhomme Richard in this century might put some wind back in Jones’ sails.

– Tate Jones, Executive Director, Rocky Mountain Museum of Military History, Fort Missoula, Montana

Comments

Commodore John Paul Jones and the Battle at Flamborough Head — 1 Comment

Tate Jones on December 10, 2014 at 7:35 AM said:

The title “Father of the US Navy” (i.e., the progenitor of a fighting tradtion, and/or organizational founder) seems in retrospect to have evolved by fits and starts, with no guarantee that Jones would take the honors; to begin with his relationship with the Continental Congress was always that of an often-rejected supplicant, his largest command accruing through Benjamin Franklin in Europe. Decisive fleet action? In a strategic sense, that would be Benedict Arnold at Valcour Island – but, that involves Arnold. Washington’ schooner flotilla off Boston? Too much to expect the US Army and Navy to share joint lineage. Esek Hopkins and the 1775 New Providence expedition – certainly the first combined USN-USMC operation, but Hopkins was unlucky later on and lies buried beneath layers of historians’ antipathy. The privateer captains? Certainly they did the most damage to British shipping, but are tainted by commercialism. John Barry? Many single-ship victories, but none as dramatic as Flamborough Head. Joshua Humphreys, the Navy’s congressional advocate in 1775? Can’t really celebrate politicians as military innovators. Further on, Oliver Hazard Perry? Freshwater fights too esoteric a category. Stephen Decatur? His bloody end in a duel with a fellow captain a bit hard to explain. USS Constitution captains? After a spike in popularity in 1815, the ship was largely neglected until its 20th-century restoration, a bit late for myth-making. William Farragut? Mobile Bay arguably the USN’s biggest decisive victory until the Spanish War, but you really can’t celebrate sectional conflict heroes as effective national icons.

Jones’ slave trading past, killing of mutinous crew, and Russian service probably did him no favors during the 19th century. But, by the 1900’s Theodore Roosevelt was A. Mindful of the national pride boost Britain received by iconizing Horatio Nelson on the centennial of the Napoleonic Wars (plus the useful fetishization of the ‘Nelson touch’ by the Royal Navy); B. oversaw a spanking-new USN capacity to meet the European navies on equal terms for the first time; and C. was a sufficiently assiduous student of naval history to apply his own winnowing process, discerned the unique drama of Flamborough Head, and hence – the locating of Jones’ Paris grave, the destroyer escort back from
France, and the crypt at Annapolis.

Probably a bit late in the game; the age of the hard-charging broadsides captain peaked in World War I and closed with the Battle of Leyte Gulf in WW II. So, Jones as anything other than antiquarian inspiration probably never took hold at Annapolis, the careers of Nimitz, Halsey and Burke perhaps providing something more tangible for today’s seagoing service members to fixate on. (The 1950’s Robert Stack biopic of Jones being an interesting anomaly.) A trend which will doubtless continue as sea war turns more to stealth ships, submarines, and missile weaponry (John Keegan’s ’empty ocean’).

So, I am pessimistic about the future of Jones as national icon, but I am strongly influenced by the failures of the 1976 Bicentennial. For younger readers, the opportunity then to rediscover Revolutionary-era figures was largely squandered in a national fit of revulsion over Vietnam and Watergate, and no effort made at a flagship commemoration. The nearest equivalent, a floating parade of vintage sailing ships in New York, made no discernible mention of Jones, the Revolution at sea, or indeed demonstrated much connection to the events of 1776 at all. But, hope springs eternal
for the approaching 250th and the 2075 Tricentennial – looking at the rejuvenated interest caused by the recent recovery of the USS Monitor’s turret and the CSS Hunley, a locating and raising of the Bonhomme Richard in this century might put some wind back in Jones’ sails.

– Tate Jones, Executive Director, Rocky Mountain Museum of Military History, Fort Missoula, Montana