On, onward, still the vessel went
Till, with a sudden shock,
Like one that's clutched by unseen Death,
She struck upon a rock.
She filled. Not hours, not minutes left;
Each second a life's gone:
Drowned in their berths, washed overboard,
Lost, swimming, one by one;
Till, o'er this chaos of despair
Rose, like celestial breath,
The law of order, discipline,
Obedience unto death.
The soldiers mustered upon deck,
As mute as on parade;
"Women and children to the boats!"
And not a man gainsayed.
Without a murmur or a moan
They stood, formed rank and file,
Between the dreadful crystal seas
And the sky's dreadful smile.
In face of death they did their work
As they in life would do,
Embarking at a quiet quay—
A quiet, silent crew.
"Now each man for himself. To the boats!"
Arose a passing cry.
The soldier-captain answered, "Swamp
The women and babes?—No, die!"
And so they died. Each in his place,
Obedient to command,
They went down with the sinking ship,
Went down in sight of land.
The great sea oped her mouth, and closed
O'er them. Awhile they trod
The valley of the shadow of death,
And then were safe with God.
My little girlies—What! your tears
Are dropping on the grass,
Over my more than "fairy" tale,
A tale that "really was!"
Nay, dry them. If we could but see
The joy in angels' eyes
O'er good lives, or heroic deaths
Of pure self-sacrifice,—
We should not weep o'er these that sleep—
Their short, sharp struggle o'er—
Under the rolling waves that break
Upon the Afric shore.
God works not as man works, nor sees
As man sees: though we mark
Ofttimes the moving of His hands
Beneath the eternal Dark.
But yet we know that all is well
That He, who loved all these,
Loves children laughing on the moor,
Birds singing in the trees;
That He who made both life and death,
He knoweth which is best:
We live to Him, we die to Him,
And leave Him all the rest.