The loss was severe on both sides, and, in proportion to the respective crews, nearly equal.  The Nymphe, out of a crew of 240, had 23 killed, including her boatswain, a master’s mate (Pearse), and three midshipmen; and 27 wounded, among whom were her second lieutenant, the lieutenant of marines, and two midshipmen.  The Cleopatra lost 63 killed and wounded, out of a crew of 320.  She came out of action, therefore, with 67 effective men more than her conqueror.  It is highly creditable to the Nymphe’s crew, that they beat a ship like the Cleopatra by gunnery, notwithstanding their inexperience; and carried her by a hand-to-hand conflict, notwithstanding their inferior numbers.

Captain Mullon was killed.  A cannon-shot struck him on the back, and carried away great part of his left hip.  Even at that dreadful moment he felt the importance of destroying the signals which he carried in his pocket; but in his dying agony, he took out his commission in mistake, and expired in the act of devouring it;—­a trait of devoted heroism never surpassed by any officer of any nation.  These signals, so valuable as long as the enemy did not know them to be in possession of the British, thus fell into the hands of Captain Pellew, who delivered them to the Admiralty.

Captain Pellew arrived at Portsmouth with his prize on the following day.  He sent the flag under which she fought, and the cap of liberty, to his brother.  This, the first trophy of the kind taken in the revolutionary war, is about seven inches long, made of wood, and painted red; with a round, tapering spear of brass, about three feet and a half long, the lower half being blackened, with a screw at the end to fix it on the mast.  The following letter accompanied these trophies:—­

“DEAR SAM,—­Here we are—­thank God! safe—­after a glorious action with La Cleopatre, the crack ship of France; 40 guns, 28 on her main-deck, and 12 on her quarter-deck, some of 36 pounds, and 320 men.  We dished her up in fifty minutes, boarded, and struck her colours.  We have suffered much, but I was long determined to make a short affair of it.  We conversed before we fired a shot, and then, God knows, hot enough it was, as you will see by the enclosed.[3] I might have wrote for a month, had I entered on the description of every gallant action, but we were all in it, heart and soul.  I owe much to Israel, who undertook with the after-gun to cut off her rudder and wheel.  The tiller was shot away, and four men were killed at her wheel, which I verily believe was owing to him.  I will write again in a day or two, and do all I can for everybody.  We must go into harbour. Cleopatra is fifteen feet longer, and three feet wider than Nymphe—­much larger, Poor dear Pearse is numbered with the slain[4]—­Plane and Norway slightly wounded—­old Nicholls safe.  God be praised for his mercy to myself, and Israel, and all of us! 
                                         “Yours, ever, E.P.”

“Be kind to Susan—­go over, and comfort her; I cannot write to poor
Pearse’s mother for my life—­do send her a note; I really cannot.  I
loved him, poor fellow, and he deserved it.