June 2, 1898.
A few days later, on May 24, 1898, the battleship Oregon arrived at Jupiter Inlet, Florida, after one of the most remarkable voyages in history. On March 9 the ship, then at San Francisco, was ordered to circle South America and join the Atlantic squadron, and the journey of nearly fifteen thousand miles was accomplished without starting a rivet.
THE RACE OF THE OREGON
Lights out! And a prow turned towards the South,
And a canvas hiding each cannon's mouth,
And a ship like a silent ghost released
Is seeking her sister ships in the East.
A rush of water, a foaming trail,
An ocean hound in a coat of mail,
A deck long-lined with the lines of fate,
She roars good-by at the Golden Gate.
On! On! Alone without gong or bell,
But a burning fire, like the fire of hell,
Till the lookout starts as his glasses show
The white cathedral of Callao.
A moment's halt 'neath the slender spire;
Food, food for the men, and food for the fire.
Then out to the sea to rest no more
Till her keel is grounded on Chili's shore.
South! South! God guard through the unknown wave,
Where chart nor compass may help or save,
Where the hissing wraiths of the sea abide
And few may pass through the stormy tide.
North! North! For a harbor far away,
For another breath in the burning day;
For a moment's shelter from speed and pain,
And a prow to the tropic sea again.
Home! Home! With the mother fleet to sleep
Till the call shall rise o'er the awful deep;
And the bell shall clang for the battle there,
And the voice of guns is the voice of prayer!