WE were ordered to Samoa from the coast of Panama, | |
| And for two long months we sailed the unequal sea, | |
| Till we made the horseshoe harbor with its curving coral bar, | |
| Smelt the good green smell of grass and shrub and tree. | |
| We had barely room for swinging with the tide— | 5 |
| There were many of us crowded in the bay: | |
| Three Germans, and the English ship, beside | |
| Our three—and from the Trenton where she lay, | |
| Through the sunset calms and after, | |
| We could hear the shrill, sweet laughter | 10 |
| Of the children’s voices on the shore at play. | |
| |
| We all knew a storm was coming, but, dear God! no man could dream | |
| Of the furious hell-horrors of that day: | |
| Through the roar of winds and waters we could hear wild voices scream— | |
| See the rocking masts reel by us through the spray. | 15 |
| In the gale we drove and drifted helplessly, | |
| With our rudder gone, our engine-fires drowned, | |
| And none might hope another hour to see; | |
| For all the air was desperate with the sound | |
| Of the brave ships rent asunder— | 20 |
| Of the shrieking souls sucked under, | |
| ’Neath the waves, where many a good man’s grave was found. | |
| |
| About noon, upon our quarter, from the deeper gloom afar, | |
| Came the English man-of-war Calliope: | |
| “We have lost our anchors, comrades, and, though small the chances are, | 25 |
| We must steer for safety and the open sea.” | |
| Then we climbed aloft to cheer her as she passed | |
| Through the tempest and the blackness and the foam: | |
| “Now, God speed you, though the shout should be our last, | |
| Through the channel where the maddened breakers comb, | 30 |
| Through the wild sea’s hill and hollow, | |
| On the path we cannot follow, | |
| To your women and your children and your home.” | |
| |
| Oh! remember it, good brothers. We two people speak one tongue, | |
| And your native land was mother to our land; | 35 |
| But the head, perhaps, is hasty when the nation’s heart is young, | |
| And we prate of things we do not understand. | |
| But the day when we stood face to face with death, | |
| (Upon whose face few men may look and tell), | |
| As long as you could hear, or we had breath, | 40 |
| Four hundred voices cheered you out of hell. | |
| By the will of that stern chorus, | |
| By the motherland which bore us, | |
| Judge if we do not love each other well. | |
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