The ship was cleared for action, and as she passed out, the Shannon was waiting for her on an easy bowline. Both ships proceeded under a good breeze until about thirty miles beyond Boston Light. They then came together under short fighting canvas, and in the manœuvring for a few moments Lawrence was in position to rake his enemy; but whether it escaped him, or he preferred to fight it out alongside, is not known.
A few minutes before six, the ships being fairly alongside, and not more than fifty yards apart, the Shannon fired her first broadside, and was immediately answered by the Chesapeake. The effect of these first broadsides in smooth water and close range was terrific. Three men at the Chesapeake's wheel were shot down one after another. Within six minutes her sails were so shot to pieces that she came up into the wind and was raked repeatedly. In a short while Captain Lawrence was shot in the leg, but kept the deck. Mr. White, the sailing-master, was killed, and Mr. Ludlow, the first lieutenant, Lieutenant Ballard, Mr. Brown, the marine officer, and the boatswain were all mortally wounded. The Shannon had not escaped scatheless, although the execution aboard of her was not to be mentioned with the Chesapeake's. Some of the British frigate's spars and sails being shot away, she fell aboard her antagonist, and the two ships were prevented from drifting apart by the fluke of an anchor on the Shannon hooking in the Chesapeake's rigging. Captain Broke immediately ordered the ships lashed together. This was done by the Shannon's boatswain, who had his arm literally hacked off in doing it, but who did not flinch from his task.
As soon as Captain Lawrence saw the ships were fast, he ordered the boarders called away. But instead of this being done by the boatswain, the bugler, a negro, was called upon to sound his bugle. The man, in a paroxysm of terror, had hid under a boat, and when found was perfectly unable to sound a note. The remaining officers on the Chesapeake's deck shouted for the boarders, and at this moment the gallant Lawrence, conspicuous from his commanding figure, and wearing his full uniform, fell, shot through the body. As he was being carried below, he uttered those words which are a part of the heritage of the American navy, "Don't give up the ship."
The carnage on the Chesapeake's deck was now frightful, and the men began to flinch from their guns. Captain Broke, seeing this, gave the order to board, and, himself leading the boarders with great intrepidity, sprang upon the Chesapeake's quarterdeck. At this the Portuguese mate and some other mercenaries threw the berth-deck gratings overboard, and ran below, crying, "So much for not paying men prize money!"
A young lieutenant, coming up from the gun-deck, was seized with a panic, and, throwing his pistol down, ran below in a cowardly manner.[21] But there were still gallant souls left upon the unfortunate frigate's deck. Mr. Livermore, the chaplain,—the only officer on deck when the British entered the ship,—advanced boldly, firing his pistol at Captain Broke, and made a brave defence, although his arm was nearly cut from his body by Broke in defending himself. The few marines who were left fought desperately, and severely wounded Captain Broke. All of these men were Americans, and were cut down to a man. The officers of the gun-deck tried to rally the men below, and succeeded in inducing the few Americans to follow them above; the brave Ludlow, in fearful agony from his wounds, struggled up the hatchway. But it was too late, and they were soon overpowered. The flag had been hauled down by the triumphant enemy; the ship was theirs. The battle lasted only about fifteen minutes, and seldom in the history of naval warfare has there been more dreadful slaughter. The Chesapeake suffered most, her captain and three lieutenants, her marine officer, her sailing-master, boatswain, and three midshipmen being killed, and her few remaining officers wounded. She lost, besides, one hundred and thirty-six men killed and wounded. The Shannon had her captain badly wounded, and lost several officers, and had seventy-five men killed and wounded.
The English ensign was immediately hoisted over the American, and as soon as possible sail was made for Halifax. Lawrence and his wounded officers lay together in the ward room of the Chesapeake, the cabin having been much shattered. For four days Lawrence lingered in extreme anguish. He bore his sufferings with silent heroism, and it is remarkable that he never spoke except to make known the few wants that his situation required. On the Shannon Captain Broke lay, raving with delirium from his wounds, and only occasionally rational. At these times he would ask anxiously after Lawrence, muttering, "He brought his ship into action in gallant style," and other words of generous admiration. When it was known that Lawrence was no more, it was thought best to keep it from Broke, as it was known it would distress him greatly.
On Sunday, the 6th of June, the two ships entered Halifax harbor, the body of Lawrence wrapped in the battle flag of the Chesapeake, and lying on her quarterdeck. The people took the Chesapeake for the President, and shouting multitudes lined the shores and docks. But when it was known that it was Lawrence's ship, and her brave commander lay dead upon her, an instant silence fell upon the people. They remembered Lawrence's kindness to the officers and men of the Peacock, and they paid him the tribute of silent respect.
The funeral was arranged for the 8th of June, and was one of the most affecting ever witnessed. The British naval and military authorities omitted nothing that could show their esteem for a brave and unfortunate enemy. The garrison and the fleet turned out their whole force, the officers wearing crape upon the left arm. The coffin, wrapped in the Chesapeake's flag, with the dead officer's sword upon it, was brought ashore in an admiral's barge, the men rowing minute strokes, and amid the solemn booming of minute guns. It was followed by a long procession of man-of-war boats. It was landed at King's Wharf, where six of the oldest British captains acted as pall-bearers. The procession to the churchyard of St. Paul's was very long. The American officers were chief mourners, followed by the officers of the Shannon; and the presence of the wounded among both the American and English officers was touching in the extreme. Admiral Sir Thomas Saumerez, one of Nelson's captains, and the officers of the fleet, and the general of the forces, with the officers of the garrison, came next in the procession, followed by a large number of the most respectable citizens of Halifax. The route was lined with troops, and the funeral was like that of a great and distinguished British admiral,—so great is the respect all generous minds must feel for a character like Lawrence's.
His young first lieutenant, Ludlow, survived several days after landing; but he, too, soon followed his captain to a hero's grave. Great honors were also paid him at his interment.
The Americans, however, could not allow the British to pay all the honors to the dead Lawrence, and in August his remains and those of his faithful lieutenant were transferred to Salem, in Massachusetts, where they were temporarily buried until they could be transferred to New York. Lawrence's pall was carried then by six American captains, among whom were Hull, Stewart, and Bainbridge,—all men who had known Lawrence, and served with him when he was a dashing and brilliant young midshipman. Eventually, both Lawrence and Ludlow were buried in Trinity churchyard, New York, where they still rest. Lawrence left a young wife and two children, for whom the country provided.