THE most tantalising story of the week is whether the Bonhomme Richard has really been found at the bottom of the North Sea off Filey Head.

In 1779, the American Revolution must have seemed half a world away to the people of the North-East, but then, off their very own coast, the Bonhomme Richard hove into view, firing wildly.

It was captained by John Paul Jones, a fascinating fellow. A Scot, he was born John Paul, but in 1773, while serving on a British ship, he murdered a mutinous crewman off Tobago in the West Indies, and fled to North America. There, he adopted a new surname.

He rose through the ranks, sinking 40 British warships off America before sailing for Europe. Having caused mayhem up and down the North Sea, the dastardly French gave him one of their spare ships, le Duc de Duras. Jones turned her into an awesome warship and renamed her Bonhomme Richard.

In August, Jones and the Bonhomme Richard sailed once more for Britain's North Sea coast. This time, off Flamborough Head, they encountered a fleet of 41 vessels guarded by HMS Serapis and the Countess of Scarborough. Jones set upon them with such a fury that his canons exploded. Instead of giving up, Jones lashed his ship to Serapis and the fighting became hand-to-hand.

Bonhomme Richard's mast crashed down onto the deck, encouraging a polite English inquiry as to whether he was surrendering. Jones bellowed back: "Sir, I have not yet begun to fight." He sent his men scurrying with renewed vigour into the rigging, and soon the Serapis was overwhelmed. Victorious, Jones sailed her off to Holland.

But the Bonhomme Richard was fatally holed, and at 11am on September 24, 1779, sank to the watery grave. It was the American Navy's first victory over the British in British waters, and it established Jones as "the father of the US Navy".

There is still a USS Bonhomme Richard in the US Navy. Launched in 1998, it is an amphibious assault shipwhose motto is: "Sir, I have not yet begun to fight."

QUEEN Victoria's aversion to coaldust cropped up a couple of weeks ago when it was disclosed that she had all the coal on her 16 Royal trains whitewashed so that no nasty black stuff blew in her delicate eyes.

Last week's Grundy's Wonders programme, tucked away on Tyne Tees at a time that appeals only to drunks and insomniacs, gave a better fact.

It was that, when Victoria officially opened the Central Station in Newcastle in August 1850, there was a bit of a do in the Royal Station Hotel next door. As it drew to a close, the hotel manager sidled up to Her Maj and presented her discretely with the bill.

Needless to say, Victoria was not amused. In fact, she took against Newcastle in such a big way that whenever her Royal train passed through en route to her Scottish castles, she drew down the window blinds so she never had to set eyes on the ghastly place again.