There, to silence the foe, Moving grimly and slow, They loomed in that deadly wreath, Where the darkest batteries frowned,-- Death in the air all round, And the black torpedoes beneath! And now, as we looked ahead, All for’ard, the long white deck Was growing a strange dull red,-- But soon, as once and again Fore and aft we sped, (The firing to guide or check,) You could hardly choose but tread On the ghastly human wreck, (Dreadful gobbet and shred That a minute ago were men!) Red, from mainmast to bitts! Red, on bulwark and wale, Red, by combing and hatch, Red, o’er netting and vail! And ever, with steady con, The ship forged slowly by,-- And ever the crew fought on, And their cheers rang loud and high. Grand was the sight to see How by their guns they stood, Right in front of our dead, Fighting square abreast-- Each brawny arm and chest All spotted with black and red, Chrism of fire and blood! Worth our watch, dull and sterile, Worth all the weary time, Worth the woe and the peril, To stand in that strait sublime! Fear? A forgotten form! Death? A dream of the eyes! We were atoms in God’s great storm That roared through the angry skies. One only doubt was ours, One only dread we knew,-- Could the day that dawned so well Go down for the Darker Powers? _Would_ the fleet get through? And ever the shot and shell Came with the howl of hell, The splinter-clouds rose and fell, And the long line of corpses grew,-- _Would_ the fleet win through? They are men that never will fail, (How aforetime they’ve fought!) But Murder may yet prevail,-- They may sink as Craven sank. Therewith one hard fierce thought, Burning on heart and lip, Ran like fire through the ship; _Fight_ her, to the last plank! A dimmer renown might strike If Death lay square alongside,-- But the old Flag has no like, She must fight, whatever betide;-- When the War is a tale of old, And this day’s story is told, They shall hear how the _Hartford_ died! But as we ranged ahead, And the leading ships worked in, Losing their hope to win, The enemy turned and fled-- And one seeks a shallow reach! And another, winged in her flight, Our mate, brave Jouett, brings in;-- And one, all torn in the fight, Runs for a wreck on the beach, Where her flames soon fire the night. And the Ram, when well up the Bay, And we looked that our stems should meet, (He had us fair for a prey,) Shifting his helm midway, Sheered off, and ran for the fleet; There, without skulking or sham, He fought them gun for gun; And ever he sought to ram, But could finish never a one.