the river, a British
frigate lay there waiting to convoy a fleet of merchantmen to the
north. Jones tried to lure the frigate out with a signal that the
pilots revealed to him; but, though she weighed anchor, she was driven
back by strong head-winds that were blowing. Disappointed in this
plan, Jones continued his cruise. Soon after he fell in with the
"Alliance" and the "Vengeance;" and, while off Flamborough Head, the
little squadron encountered a fleet of forty-one merchant ships, that,
at the sight of the dreaded Yankee cruisers, crowded together like a
flock of frightened pigeons, and made all sail for the shore; while
two stately men-of-war--the "Serapis, forty-four," and the "Countess
of Scarborough, twenty-two"--moved forward to give battle to the
Americans.

Jones now stood upon the threshold of his greatest victory. His bold
and chivalric mind had longed for battle, and recoiled from the less
glorious pursuit of burning helpless merchantmen, and terrorizing
small towns and villages. He now saw before him a chance to meet the
enemy in a fair fight, muzzle to muzzle, and with no overpowering odds
on either side. Although the Americans had six vessels to the
Englishmen's two, the odds were in no wise in their favor. Two of the
vessels were pilot-boats, which, of course, kept out of the battle.
The "Vengeance," though ordered to render the larger vessels any
possible assistance, kept out of the fight altogether, and even
neglected to make any attempt to overhaul the flying band of
merchantmen. As for the "Alliance," under the erratic Landais, she
only entered the conflict at the last moment; and then her broadsides,
instead of being delivered into the enemy, crashed through the already
shattered sides of the "Bon Homme Richard." Thus the actual combatants
were the "Richard" with forty guns, against the "Serapis" with
forty-four; and the "Pallas" with twenty-two guns, against the
"Countess of Scarborough" with twenty-two.

It was about seven o'clock in the evening of a clear September
day--the twenty-third--that the hostile vessels bore down upon each
other, making rapid preparations for the impending battle. The sea was
fast turning gray, as the deepening twilight robbed the sky of its
azure hue. A brisk breeze was blowing, that filled out the bellying
sails of the ships, and beat the waters into little waves capped with
snowy foam. In the west the rosy tints of the autumnal sunset were
still warm in the sky.