Ah! many a weary day
With our Leader there we lay.
In the sultry haze and smoke,
Tugging our ships o'er the bar,
Till the spring was wasted far,
Till his brave heart almost broke.
For the sullen river seemed
As if our intent he dreamed,—
All his sallow mouths did spew and choke.
But ere April fully passed
All ground over at last
And we knew the die was cast,—
Knew the day drew nigh
To dare to the end one stormy deed,
Might save the land at her sorest need,
Or on the old deck to die!
Anchored we lay,—and a morn the more,
To his captains and all his men
Thus wrote our old commodore
(He wasn't Admiral then):—
"General Orders:
Send your to'gallant masts down,
Rig in each flying jib-boom!
Clear all ahead for the loom
Of traitor fortress and town,
Or traitor fleet bearing down.
"In with your canvas high;
We shall want no sail to fly!
Topsail, foresail, spanker, and jib
(With the heart of oak in the oaken rib),
Shall serve us to win or die!
"Trim every sail by the head
(So shall you spare the lead),
Lest if she ground, your ship swing round,
Bows in shore, for a wreck.
See your grapnels all clear with pains,
And a solid kedge in your port main-chains,
With a whip to the main yard:
Drop it heavy and hard
When you grapple a traitor deck!
"On forecastle and on poop
Mount guns, as best you may deem.
If possible, rouse them up
(For still you must bow the stream).
Also hoist and secure with stops
Howitzers firmly in your tops,
To fire on the foe abeam.
"Look well to your pumps and hose;
Have water tubs fore and aft,
For quenching flame in your craft,
And the gun crew's fiery thirst.
See planks with felt fitted close,
To plug every shot-hole tight.
Stand ready to meet the worst!
For, if I have reckoned aright,
They will serve us shot,
Both cold and hot,
Freely enough to-night.
"Mark well each signal I make
(Our life-long service at stake,
And honor that must not lag!),—
Whate'er the peril and awe,
In the battle's fieriest flaw,
Let never one ship withdraw
Till the orders come from the flag!"
* * * * *
Would you hear of the river fight?
It was two of a soft spring night;
God's stars looked down on all;
And all was clear and bright
But the low fog's clinging breath;
Up the River of Death
Sailed the great Admiral.