James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902.
February 9How We Burned the Philadelphia
By Barrett Eastman (18691910)
By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw swore
He would scourge us from the seas;
Yankees should trouble his soul no more—
By the Prophet’s beard the Bashaw swore,
Then lighted his hookah, and took his ease,
And troubled his soul no more.
And a mist fell soft on the sea,
As we slipped away from the Siren brig
And headed for Tripoli.
Before us the empty night;
And when again we looked behind
The Siren was gone from our sight.
Only the silence and rain,
As the jaws of the sea took hold of our bows
And cast us up again.
Cautious and stealthy and slow,
For we knew the waters were full of those
Who might challenge the Mastico.
Of the ship we had come to see,
Her ghostly lights and her ghostly frame
Rolling uneasily.
And the moon threw off her veil,
And we saw the ship in the pale moonlight,
Ghostly and drear and pale.
“To the bulwarks’ shadow all!
But the six who wear the Tripoli dress
Shall answer the sentinel’s call.”
“No ship,” was the answer free;
“But only a Malta ketch in distress
Wanting to moor in your lee.
To sail into Tripoli town,
And the sea rolls fierce and high to-night,
So cast a cable down.”
Made fast to her unforbid—
Six of us bold in the heathen dress,
The rest of us lying hid.
“Americano!” cried.
Then straight we rose and made a rush
Pellmell up the frigate’s side.
And the heathen were twenty score;
But a Yankee sailor in those old days
Liked odds of one to four.
And then from stern to stem
We charged into our enemies
And quickly slaughtered them.
Of corpses striking the sea,
And the awful shrieks of dying men
In their last agony.
But one by one they fell,
Swept from the deck by our cutlasses
To the water, and so to hell.
Some to the fo’c’s’le fled,
But all in vain; we sought them out
And left them lying dead;
Upon that ship was found;
The twenty score were dead, and we,
The hundred, safe and sound.
The deck a crimson tide,
We fired the ship from keel to shrouds
And tumbled over the side.
With the world as light as day,
And the flames revealed a hundred sail
Of the heathen there in the bay.
And the rain rang out on the sea;
Then—a dazzling flash, a deafening roar,
Between us and Tripoli!
Only the silence and rain;
And the jaws of the sea took hold of our bows
And cast us up again.
He would scourge us from the seas;
Yankees should trouble his soul no more—
By the Prophet’s beard the Bashaw swore,
Then lighted his hookah and took his ease,
And troubled his soul no more.