The Battle of Cape Henry, March 16, 1781, occurred just outside the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay off the Cape of Henry. Though the French fleet of eight ships-of-the-line and one frigate under Admiral Charles Destouches inflicted far greater damage as they bested the seven ships-of-the-line under British Vice Admiral Mariot Arbuthnot, Destouches did not realize the full extent of his advantage. Rather than pursue the injured British fleet and renew the attack, the Frenchman allowed Arbuthnot to sail into the Chesapeake Bay. Meanwhile Destouches conservatively returned to his base at Newport, Rhode Island to repair his ships.
The battle was considered tactically indecisive; however, it was a strategic victory for the British. Both forces had sailed from northern postings (French from Rhode Island and British from the tip of Long Island) to claim possession of the Chesapeake Bay. When the French withdrew back to Rhode Island, leaving the British to occupy the Bay, Destouches basically accepted the failure of his objective, leaving Arbuthnot the victor by default.
When news of Destouches’ decision to return to Newport reached General George Washington, he was enflamed. The commander-in-chief of American forces had already ordered General Lafayette’s large detachment south to Head of Elk where the Marquis awaited French ships to transport him to Portsmouth, Virginia. There he was to attack and capture the hated turncoat, Benedict Arnold, who had pillaged the colony and was establishing a British port on the Bay. With Admiral Destouches’ failure to beat off the British fleet and claim the Chesapeake, the hope of seeing Arnold swing at the end of a rope had vanished. Though Arnold would escape Washington, there was yet a far larger prize in store for America, His Excellency just had to wait another seven months for Yorktown.
Washington Determined to Capture Benedict Arnold
On December 21, 1780, turncoat General Benedict Arnold, three months into wearing the uniform of the British Crown, departed New York City on the HMS Charon, a 44-fun frigate somewhat symbolically named for the ferryman of Greek mythology who transported souls of the dead to Hades. With him were transports of 1,700 British troops, all bound for the Chesapeake Bay. British Supreme commander General Henry Clinton sent Arnold to establish a British Port at Portsmouth, Virginia, near Norfolk and the Hampton Roads at the mouth of the James River. From there, raiding parties would penetrate the interior, driving a wedge across the colony to the Blue Ridge Mountains. The object was to cut off all communication and supplies to American General Nathanael Greene, commander of the Southern Continental Army in the Carolinas who was staging a campaign against British General Lord Charles Cornwallis.
Arnold arrived on December 31, 1780, and began operations fortifying a base at Portsmouth. But so too, immediately sailed 100 miles up the James River on a path of destruction to Richmond. Before the colony could muster any militia resistance, Arnold was intent on disrupting all communications between the north and south while capturing the Virginia legislature, including lackluster Governor Thomas Jefferson. Though Jefferson escaped Arnold’s grasp by hiding in the woods, the traitor pillaged and left Richmond in flames, including all factories and magazine stores. With some legislators in tow, Arnold’s exhausted troops marched back to Portsmouth, arriving on January 20th.
Washington, wintering in the Hudson Highlands at New Windsor, New York was enraged. The thought of the hated ‘arch traitor’ freely plundering and torching his home state while fortifying a British navy base at the southern end of the Chesapeake Bay was too much for His Excellency to swallow. He would do all in his power to capture the turncoat and watch him swing from the gallows. For that, he needed infantry and a fleet of war ships. He had the land force; a large detachment of Continental troops ready to march south, led by his young prodigy, General Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. He just needed to convince a difficult and condescending French admiralty to pry their fleet out of Newport and set sail for the Chesapeake. But for Washington, it would prove to be yet another long and arduous path of frustration.
Storm Wrecks Part of British Fleet and Feeble French Attempt to Attack Arnold
At the start of 1781, the French, under the command of Admiral Destouches after the recent death of Admiral de Ternay, had a slight disadvantage in number of ships-of-the-line battleships, ships carrying 50 or more guns; 7 Frenchmen to 9 British. On January 20, 1781, three French ships sailed from Newport, RI. British Admiral Thomas Graves,’ commander of the nine British line ships at Gardiners Bay at the end of Long Island (his superior Admiral Arbuthnot was in New York City) assumed the ships were destined for Virginia to attack Benedict Arnold at Portsmouth. He ordered three ships to challenge the three Frenchmen; 74-gun ships Culloden and Bedford, and 64-gun America. One of the worst storms in memory hit just as the ships sailed. The Bedford lost all her masts had to be towed in. The Culloden was wrecked at Montauk. And the America was blown clear to Virginia. It turned out that the three Frenchmen were sent out to escort a convoy from Boston and had returned prior to the storm.
The storm gave the French a huge opportunity as three ships-of-the-line were removed from the British fleet giving Destouches a one ship advantage. Washington was ecstatic. With the French at an advantage, he could now officially request they sail the whole fleet to Virginia to capture Arnold. By mid-February, Washington had already dispatched 1,200 Continental troops under Lafayette to march to Head of Elk, Maryland to await transport south to Portsmouth. He now just had to wait for a positive response from his letter to Destouches. That response never came. It seemed Congress by-stepped Washington to directly request French help. Without Washington’s knowledge or input, and based solo on a Virginian legislator’s advice, the request and resulting action proved to be a farse.
Upon hearing of the wrecked British ships, Richard Henry Lee, Virginia legislator and former delegate to Congress, wrote Congress advising that just one French ship-of-the-line and two frigates were enough to attack and capture Arnold. Congress wrote directly to Admiral Destouches requesting he send the recommended three ships to Portsmouth to apprehend the traitor. Destouches, who had yet to get Washington’s letter requesting he send his whole fleet, did as Congress asked and on February 9th, dispatched Captain Le Gardeur de Tilly in the 64-gun Eveille along with frigates Gentille and Surveillante. The Eveille’s draft proved too deep to head up the Elizabeth River to get at Arnold and the two frigates would have been cut to pieces by British gun boats had they tried on their own. Frustrated, Tilly turned back, but not before burning 4 British transports and capturing the 44-gun HMS Romulus which the French put into service.
French Fleet Sails after Frustrating Delay
Tilly’s failure, as Washington would have predicted had he been asked by Congress, gave the British time to regain the advantage in ship numbers It was the end of February when Tilly returned to Newport. By then, the British had nearly repaired the Beford by removing masts and rigging from the wrecked Culloden. So too, HMS America had returned to Long Island, placing the British once more with the advantage in numbers; 8 battleships to France’s 7. Destouches finally received Washington’s letter requesting the entire fleet sail for the Chesapeake. Even though he had lost the opportunity in numbers, Destouches decided to act on Washington’s recommendation. But it took Washington’s personal appearance to get the French in motion for as he had learned early when dealing with his allies, agreeing did not necessarily mean doing.
On March 2, 1781, Washington and aides crossed the Hudson on their way to Newport, 180 miles over the wintery landscape. On March 6th, four days since starting and after a blistery ride (one day covered sixty miles) the American commander was rowed out to Destouches’ flagship, the Duc de Bourgogne. News of the Washington anticipated presence had been forwarded and instead of viewing French warships cruising out into the Atlantic, they were all decked out in elaborate ceremonial magnificence. Destouches insisted Washington join him in his splendid barge as they glided the harbor; the cannons of the assembled ships erupting in thirteen-gun salutes. Later, he would suffer through time consuming meetings, dinners, balls, troop reviews, more salutes; realizing with each hour the French delayed sailing, gave the British more time to finish their repairs and ready their fleet.
Washington’s allies that included French army General Jean-Baptiste Rochambeau, finally put lavish etiquette aside and got down to business during a two-hour council of war. The Newport squadron would transport 1,200 French troops to the James peninsula. While French troops were offloaded, Washington hoped frigates would sail up the Chesapeake to bring Lafayette’s Continentals down to Portsmouth. Lafayette had already advanced the bulk of his Continentals to Annapolis, Maryland while he carried on toward Portsmouth to join American forces stationed outside the town. The plan’s success depended on the French fleet arriving at Cape Henry and the mouth of the Chesapeake before the British. Last reports placed Admiral Arbuthnot still at Gardiners Bay, sixty miles southwest. However, Destouches was determined to slug it out with the British fleet if needed to finish his mission.
After two days of pompous, celebratory delays, the French fleet pulled anchor and on mid-day, March 8th, set sail; 7 ships-of-the-line, the newly converted frigate Romulus, three other frigates, ship transports, and a tender. But not before one more thumb-twisting delay tore at Washington’s nerves; the troop ship Fantasque ran aground, causing the fleet to wait until dusk before she was set free and all could spread sail in a light northwesterly breeze. Washington knew that if Arnold was to be caught, he had given Destouches specific instructions to hang his once best general on the spot without a trial, then speed was everything. He also knew that the British fleet’s ships’ hulls were copper coated, allowing them to surpass wooden French hulled ships by ‘half as fast again,’ especially in high winds and rough seas. As Washington watched the sail sink into the sea, he had learned through years of biting experience, “there is no accounting for the delays and accidents of the sea.” Two days had been lost in setting out; two days that proved to mean all the difference.
Race to the Chesapeake
Admiral Arbuthnot was in his seventies and fed up with his station at Gardiners Bay, 100 miles east of New York City at the end of Long Island, which he described as “an uninhabited land [of] a few Indians.” He also wrote to Lord Sandwich, head of the Admiralty, that he was done feuding with General Henry Clinton; the two had been at each other’s throats for over a year. He had lost the sight of one eye and as he explained, “have lately been seized with very odd fits, resembling apoplexy…I faint, remain senseless and speechless…with cold sweats for two or there days after…” He wanted to be relieved. But he was also a British admiral, dedicated to his assigned duty, and who’s over fifty years’ experience had taught him a thing or two of seamanship. When spies informed him that the French had set sail for the Chesapeake on the 8th, he did all he could to finish repairs to his fleet. Two days later, on the 10th, eight ships-of-the-line and four frigates filled sails and headed south.
On the 12th, two days from Long Island, Arbuthnot was about thirty miles off New Jersey, just south of Sandy Hook, laboring under a light and variable breeze. He came upon a packet (mail carrier designed with finer hulls for speed) from Ireland and spoke with the captain. He explained that he had crossed a French fleet the day before and had been chased by one of its frigates. The captain reported that the fleet was twenty-four leagues west and south (about 72 nautical miles). As providence would have it, “Immediately after this man was dismissed,” Arbuthnot wrote to Lord Sandwich, then “a smart wind sprung up at north-north-west.” He steered a course “as would best enable me to intercept the enemy…” The race to the Chesapeake was on.
Once Destouches had cleared Rhode Island, he had done what Baron von Closen (aide-de-camp to Rochambeau) termed ‘a great turn’ out into the Atlantic. Some speculation assumed he did so to avoid discovery, or caution against a sudden spring gale that hazarded being driven onto a lee shore. By sailing southeast, the extra distance out to sea placed them on the 10th only 35 nautical miles south from where the British would set off that same day. When the Frenchman swung his fleet into a more southernly direction, he steered directly into the Gulf Stream. This flow of warm water that shoots up from the Caribbean and hugs the North American coastline before bending towards Europe was first mapped in 1735 by an American tobacco merchant, Walter Haxton, naming it the ‘Northeast Current.’. Most Americans seamen who regularly sailed to Europe were aware of it, including Ben Franklin who sketched it in a map in which he named it the ‘Gulf Stream.’ He published and made it available to anyone of interest. Problem, the French were not interested.
For the next four days, Destouches fought a current of more than three knots that flowed in the opposite direction. Though he had a thirty-six-hour head start on the British, by the time Destouches arched his fleet southwest towards the Chesapeake, that advantage was gone. Added to the Frenchmen’s doldrums, the fleet had become separated in a dense fog on the 12th with only three ships accompanying Destouches’ flagship. He spent half the morning plying the waters firing cannon to ‘rally his fleet.’ Unable to find his missing ships, Destouches carried on, hoping by the time he approached the Chesapeake, the fleet would be reunited.
Three factors played out that allowed the British to not only catch up to the French, but beat them to the prize; copper-plated hulls, Destouches fighting the Gulf Stream, and lastly – pure luck. All the British had faster copper hulls, but only a few French ships had been plated meaning Destouches’ fleet could only sail as fast as its slowest ships. While the French struggled in the Stream, Arbuthnot’s fleet had been pushed along the coast by a violent northwester. Bows dipped and spray covered upper decks as the British caught up to the French. But when Destouches turned west to make a straight shot toward the Chesapeake entrance, luck in a change of wind played out for the British.
On March 14th, with Cape Henry and the entrance to the Chesapeake about to come into view, Destouches missing ships appeared. It took six days to reach the Bay, two days longer than Tilly’s previous sail, but finally, Destouches was about to proceed with his mission and land troops. Then fate stepped in. He was met with a sudden, strong upwind out of the southwest, placing the fleet directly in the face of the wind and the entrance to the Bay. Square rigged ships could not sail effectively against the wind. It required multiple, time-consuming tacks which delayed progress, or, as in this case, blew the ships back. With land almost in sight, Destouches was blown further to the east as he tried over the next two days to weave his way back toward the bay entrance.
On the morning of March 16th, both fleets were about 40 miles off the coast of Cape Henry. The cape was named in 1607 by the settlers of Jamestown, Virginia, for Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales, the eldest son of King James I of England. At 6:30 AM, in a rainy mist and heavy seas on yet another frustrating port tack to the Maryland shore, the French frigate Hermione signaled that sail was sighted at the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay. And almost simultaneously, from the HMS Iris, Arbuthnot received a report that five sail of the line were in the haze astern to the north, north-east of their position. The race was over. The British had won. English ships now stood between the French and the bay entrance. Arbuthnot must have smiled while his fleet piled on more sail. For he had the French exactly where he wanted them.
Opposing Fleets
The British would have a forty-four gun advantage (equivalent to one frigate)
British
- Vice-Admiral Marriot Arbuthnot – Flag Ship Royal Oak 74-gun
- Rear-Admiral Thomas Graves – London 98-gun
- Bedford & Robust – Each 74-guns
- America, Prudent, & Europe – Each 64-gun
- Adamant – 50-gun
- Iris & Pearl – Each 32-gun
- Medea & Guadeloupe – Each 28-gun
French
- Admiral Charles Destouches – Flag Ship Duc de Bourgogne 84-gun
- Conquerant & Neptune – 74-gun
- Provence, Ardent, Jason, & Eveilli – Each 64-gun
- Romulus – 44-gun
- Fantasque – 38-gun
- Hermione – 36-gun
- Gentille – 32-gun
Fleets Jockey for Position
Eighteenth Century enemy fleets did battle like two Sumo wrestlers; jockeying for position before colliding with the force of a three-ton head-on collision. Bow to stern, like floating forts, both formed line-of-battle with the admiral’s flagship centered. Maneuvers by the fleet’s two admirals could take hours as the ships countered each other to take advantage of the wind and reduce the distance between the two. Eventually facing each other within pistol shot, fifty yards or less, cannons erupted in sudden, explosive violence; far closer than any field artillery. The most concentration of power in the world, one first class ship-of-the-line, carrying cannon up to ten feet in length, belched enough metallic death and destruction equal to all the firepower of the entire Continental Army’s artillery.
The British under Arbuthnot shot towards the French who had been struggling to make headway against the wind. But for Arbuthnot, the wind was a God-send. Even though the weather was so thick that he could not discern his entire line of battle, the English commander owned the coveted prize sought by every admiral in battle, the naval equivalent of a general’s high ground; the weather-gage. His ships were windward, or closer to the direction from where the wind blew. In other words, Arbuthnot was upwind of his enemy with a stiff breeze behind his back, and as such, could maneuver his ships for a direct stab at the heart of his foe.
Arbuthnot may had come to fight a naval battle, Destouches had not. His mission was to land troops and capture the large British raiding force that had created havoc in Virginia. Once the turncoat Benedict Arnold was hanged and his troops dealt with, Destouches had every intention of sailing back to Newport before any confrontation with his naval counterpart. But with the British between him and Portsmouth, Destouches decided he had no choice but to abandon the mission. Even if he was able to get by the British, he could not disembark troops under the enemy’s guns. As such, there was nothing to gain by battling a faster and stronger force. Destouches had over a five-mile advantage in distance from his enemy. He turned and made a run for it.
Over the next two hours, Arbuthnot’s faster ships ran with the wind and the distance between opponents decreased. But every sailor knows, when dealing with the wind, luck can quickly escape your grasp. Wind out of the southwest that blew the British towards their foe, did a complete 180 degrees reverse. It began to blow out of the northeast, directly into the face of the English ships. Now the French had the weather-gage while the British struggled to continue the pursuit in forced, multiple tacks. Destouches used the change in wind direction not to attack, but to gain time. He swung his fleet onto a starboard tack, with a beam reach wind coming over his ship’s right side. While Arbuthnot had to continue time-consuming tacks to shorten the distance (each tack taking up to 15 minutes), Destouches could stay on course without tacking. He hoped to remain upwind of his enemy before nightfall when the Frenchman could make his escape.
But luck once more swung in British favor. During the French tack to starboard, two ships (Eveille and Ardent) working their way through the eye of the wind, damaged the spars (yards) of their maintopsails, causing the ships to lose ground. Arbuthnot soon ordered his ships on the same tack as the French and piled on sail. In what the log of the HMS Royal Oak reported as a “drilling rain,” the British “gained sensibly upon the rear of the French fleet.” Destouches wrote that the two ships “made me lose hope of keeping upwind of the enemy, whose sailing capacity was infinitely superior to that of my squadron.”
While Destouches kept his squadron in an orderly line, Arbuthnot allowed his three fastest ships, Robust, Prudent, and Europe, full rein to speed ahead towards their prey. This created a large gap in the British fleet that according to Guillaume de Deux-Ponts (commander of Bavarian troops attached to General Rochambeau),“The inequality of the speed in the enemy’s ships separated them into two divisions.” Having to slow the fleet to accommodate the damaged ships, the French commander knew the British would catch up, leaving no alternative but to fight. While racked by squalls and driving rain, both sides prepared for action.
Battle of Cape Henry
Sailors’ hammocks were brought up from below and stuffed into netting over the sides of ships against small arms fire. Thin walls in officers’ cabins were removed as well as furniture for aft guns. Boatswains secured yards with extra ropes. Carpenters prepared plugs for cannon shot below water lines. Gunners ran up an adequate supply of ammunition and powder. And surgeons, in the bowel of ships, laid out the necessary tools to lob off what was left of arms and legs after a 24-pound ball tore through.
By 1 pm, the two fleets were on the same tack with the British vanguard a mile and a half behind and coming fast. Arbuthnot signaled the 74-gun HMS Robust to draw near, not from the windward position, but from the more favored leeward. A ship attacking from windward (or upwind) has the wind at its back and tilts towards the enemy; therefore, its lower gun ports are buried beneath the waves. While a ship attacking from downwind, or the leeward position, facing the wind, tilts away from the enemy, exposing lowered gun ports that allows all cannon to bear. Of this Arbuthnot wrote, “Nothing could bear a more pleasing prospect than my situation.” But at the last moment, Destouches pulled a fast one.
The HMS Robust continued to bare down on the starboard stern of Destouches’ squadron and rear ship Provence of 64 guns. Destouches owned the weather gage, but he gave it up, intent on claiming the leeward position before Arbuthnot. The Frenchman signaled his fleet’s lead ship, Conquerant, to jib to starboard (the right side) and come about in a wide arch, followed by each ship in succession. In a brilliant move, Destouches did an about face, changed direction, and sailed towards the British fleet in the now favored leeward position. All rows of French cannon were fully exposed. This left the English ships’ lower decks buried beneath an angry sea, leaving the French with a two to one advantage in firepower. Destouches recorded his pleasure writing that his maneuver “threatened to batter the head of [the English] line against two scythes.”
As the two fleets approached each other, the gap between the British three-ship vanguard and the rest of the squadron remained dangerously large. At 2 PM Arbuthnot, fourth in line in his Royal Oak flagship, signaled Captain Phillips Cosby of the Robust. Cosby was to pass just windward of the leading French ship and attack, allowing the rest of the British fleet to follow in his wake and run the length of the enemy line. And with that signal, control of the British column was lost. Instead, Cosby drew away from the wind, perhaps to regain the leeward position. Instead, he pointed his bow directly at the lead French ship, Conquerant. To avoid a collision, the Conquerant bore away, sailing with the wind. The rest of the French squadron were trailing him and turned likewise. The quick maneuver resulted in Conquerant’s starboard side guns facing the bow of the leading British ship. Cosby found himself facing a battleship captain’s worst fear. The Robust’s T had been crossed. And the French instantly took full advantage of the fatal mistake.
Conquerant unleashed a massive and devastating broadside that raked the Robust from front to back. Instead of running parallel to his enemy where shells passed from port to starboard, or reverse, with his bow to ship’s side, every French shot bore down the entire length of the ship. From bow to stern, single solid shots, and canister (cluster shot of smaller balls of lead) took out multiple spars, decking, and chunks of hull while ripping through bodies along the entire length of the ship. Langridge, shot made up of bolts, nails, and scrap, tore through the sails and upper rigging.
In one frightful moment, the Robust lay in ruins from which it would not fully recover. But worse, the other two ships in the British vanguard thought Cosby was following Arbuthnot’s orders and bore off, following the Robust to similar destruction. The Jason and Ardent, the next two ships in Destouches’ line, bore past the British bows. They raked both Prudent and Europe, blasting and gouging long, splintered chunks of hull and decking, along with the bloody remains of mangled bodies. “For a long while,” wrote Destouches, “three vessels from their van were in a head on position athwart of our line, which took advantage of this by brisk, sustained fire.”
With control of the battle gone, Arbuthnot decided there was no choice but to carry on in his vanguard’s wake and attack the nearest French ship. Both fleets were sailing downwind at this point. But before engaging his enemy, Arbuthnot signaled the rest of his fleet to remain in line of battle. Instead of doing as he was about to do, immediately draw close and attack, the captains of his rearguard were confused. Should they continue windward or bear away as the vanguard had done. By now the British flagship was in the middle of the same horrendous fire that had laid waste to the Robust and two other vanguard ships. Led by Destouches’ flagship, the Duc de Bourgogne of 84 guns, that included the Neptune and the smaller Romulus, the Royal Oak was pounded. Arbuthnot wrote, “My ship’s foresail was so torn with shot that it hung to the yard by four cloths and earings [small ropes that attached sail corners to yards] …maintopsail halyards, braces, ties, also the foretop and fore braces and bowline [were damaged] …for a little space…the ship was ungovernable.”
At this stage of the battle, both fleets had drawn up parallel to run with the wind. But the large gap between the vanguard of three British ships and the rearward vessels remained large. Robust got back into the fight drawing up close, within fifty yards, to its original nemesis, the Conquerant. Both ships blasted broadsides at point blank range with the Robust recovering to hold its own. For the next forty-five minutes, the French vanguard dreadfully pounded the Robust, Prudent, and Europe who responded by inflicting heavy punishment upon their French counterparts. Shots tore through planking and crowded gun decks, splattering bloody masses of what were once flesh and bone. Amidst the smoke and carnage men cheered, shrieked, and died. While on quarterdecks, immaculately dressed officers attempted to maintain a serene calm amidst the bedlam; noting nonchalantly the occasional shell that decapitated one with whom they were just conversing.
At around 3 PM, Destouches noted that the last ships of the enemy line were still out of range of the French rear. Before the fight could extend along his entire line, Destouches decided to withdraw. But first, he had time to maneuver his ships so the entire squadron could swing around and deliver a final blow on Arbuthnot’s vanguard. Destouches wrote, “I gave the signal to reestablish the line of battle on port tack, without regard for position.” The French looped past the British vanguard, whose rigging was so damaged, evasive maneuvers were impossible, and delivered a classic kick in the gut. Five French ships drew close. Massive broadsides within pistol range tore into the vessels who could only offer a feeble response. The Robust received the worst with Destouches noting “the Neptune placed itself in musket range of [the Robust] poop and raked it with its entire broadside, while [the British ship] was unable to respond with a single gunshot.”
Some of the British rear guard finally got into the action as the tail end of the French fleet that followed in the wake of the leading ships came within range. Even this last-ditch attempt to damage the French did not go well for the British. As the largest ship in Arbuthnot’s squadron, the 98-gun London bore down on the Romulus of 44 guns, one of the French gunners got off a lucky shot. The maintopsail yard was splintered, leaving the ship floundering to make headway. This left one English captain to comment to “disable and beat our London of 90 guns [was a fitting end to a] very dishonorable humiliating day’s disgrace.”
Casualties
At 4:30, the French faded into the haze. Destouches’s fleet had suffered little damage but for the Conquerant. She had dueled with the Robust and had come under the guns of Arbuthnot’s flag ship, sustaining the most casualties while losing temporary control of the rudder. With his frigates keeping watch, Destouches prepared for another possible British attack, that did not come.
Meanwhile Arbuthnot sent his frigates to shadow his enemy while he assessed the damage to his fleet. After a relentless two hour or more pounding, the Robust and Prudent were unable to do more than lay-to. The Europe could maneuver, but just barely. His flagship Royal Oak sustained damage to spars and rigging. Because of Romulus’ lucky shot, the London needed major repairs to the mainsail before it could be effective. Arbuthnot gathered his fleet and headed for the Chesapeake to guard against French ships entering the bay. At 7 PM he ordered repairs and the next day, entered Lynnhaven Bay with the Robust and Prudent under tow by the America and Adamat respectively.
French gunners tended to fire high, resulting in extensive damage to spars and rigging with less casualties among enemy crewmembers. Whereas British went for the kill and fired into the hull and across deck, optimizing sailor casualties. Therefore, even though the French sustained less damage to their vessels and decimated three British line ships, French numbers in dead and wounded were nearly double that of the British. In recording casualties, due to the extensive wounds of lost and mangled limbs, plus limits in medical science, often half or more of those wounded later succumbed to their injuries. The British had 103 total casualties with 30 killed and 73 wounded. The French suffered 184 casualties with 72 dead and 112 wounded.
Aftermath
Admiral Arbuthnot limped his squadron into the Chesapeake Bay, saving Brigadier General Benedict Arnold’s neck while establishing England’s claim to the bay. Meanwhile, though Destouches beat the British fleet, he failed in his mission to land French troops to help American forces capture and hang the turncoat Arnold. He sailed back to Newport, Rhode Island, arriving on March 30th. It would be several months before the squadron at Newport sailed, under a new commander: Jacques-Melchior Saint-Laurent, Comte de Barras.
British officers were upset by Arbuthnot’s performance writing: “If Admiral Arbuthnot tells the truth, he must confess to the eternal disgrace of our navy, that with a much superior fleet both in number and size of ships, he behaved as shamefully ill as the French behaved gallantly well.” He allowed his vanguard of three ships to spring ahead and attack the full French fleet before he could bring the rest of his squadron to bare. It was an elemental mistake to separate his command in the face of the enemy, allowing the destruction of his squadron in piecemeal. Arbuthnot would soon be replaced by Rear-Admiral Thomas Graves who, six months later, would fair no better against a French fleet, in fact, far worse.
The Battle of Cape Henry was a French victory that became a British win by default. Destouches later claimed he was unaware of the damage he had inflicted on the British and considering the damage his fleet suffered, called off the fight. Author Nathaniel Philbrick summed it best writing “…all that Destouches had to do was resume the fight and he would have, in all likelihood, destroyed the British fleet. Instead, he chose to, in [Admiral] de Barras’s words [who replaced Destouches] ‘retreat with honor after punishing the enemy’s arrogance…’ Unfortunately, that did nothing to further the war effort. Even though the British had been soundly trounced, they were the ultimate victors…was free to continue into the Chesapeake the following morning. Thus, a battle that might have resulted in the capture and hanging of Benedict Arnold had come to what has been called a farcical end.”
Washington was furious with Destouches when he learned of the battle specifics. He penned a letter to his cousin Lund, expressing his frustrations with the French admiral, that unfortunately was intercepted and fell into British hands. The British of course published the letter in the loyalist New York Gazette which further strained American/French relations. Lafayette had taken a small craft down the Chesapeake and joined American forces surrounding Arnold’s force at Portsmouth. All was in preparation for French troops to join them to take Arnold’s position by force. He was heartbroken when British ships, not Frenchmen, anchored in the Bay on the 17th. Ten days later, on March 26th, Benedict Arnold happily greeted the safe arrival of Captain Hudson’s convoy from New York transporting two thousand troops to reinforce the traitor’s corps. The Americans had choice but to withdraw into the interior of Virginia await another day. It was a day that would take another seven months at a small hamlet on the James; Yorktown.
RECOMMENDED BOOKS FOR FURTHER READING
OF SIMILAR INTEREST ON REVOLUTIONARY WAR JOURNAL
RESOURCE
Desmarais, Norman. The Road to Yorktown: The French Campaigns in the American Revolution, 1780-1783. 2021: Savas Beatie, Eldorado Hills, CA.
Hiscocks, Richard. “Battle of Cape Henry – 16 March.” May 18, 2017. More than Nelson, The Royal Navy 1776-1815.
King, Dean. A Sea of Words. 1995: Henry Holt and Company, Markham, Ontario, Canada.
McGrath, Tim. Give me a Fast Ship: The Continental navy and America’s Revolution at Sea. 2015: Penguin Publishing, New York, NY.
Philbrick, Nathaniel. In the Hurricane’s Eye: The Genius of George Washington and the Victory at Yorktown. 2018: Penguin Random House, New York, NY.
Willis, Sam. The Struggle for Sea Power: A Naval History of the American Revolution. 2015: Atlantic Books, Bloomsbury, London, UK.