Quick we man the barge, and quicker plunge into that devil’s-brew-- “An official call,” and Tattnall went in state: Trenchard’s hurt, our flag in ribbons, and the lunging boat shot through, Hart, our coxswain, dies beneath the Chinese hate; But the cheers those English give us as we gain their Admiral’s ship Make the shattered barge and weary arms seem light-- Then the rare smile from “Old” Tattnall and Hope’s hearty word and grip, Bleeding though he was, and brave in hell’s despite. Tattnall nods and we go forward, find a gun no longer fought-- What is peace to us, when all its crew lie dead? One bright English lad brings powder and a wounded man brings shot, And we scotch that Chinese dragon, tail and head. Hands are shaken, faith is plighted, sounds our captain’s cheery call; In a borrowed boat we speed us fast and far, And the _Toey-Wan_ and Tattnall down the ebb-tide slide and fall To the launches lying moaning by the bar. Eager for an English vengeance, battle light on every face, See, the Clustered Stars lead on the Triple Cross! Cheering, swinging into action, valiant Hope takes heart of grace From the cannons’ cloudy roar, the lanyards’ toss. How they fought, those fighting English! how they cheered the _Toey-Wan_, Cheered our sailors, cheered “Old” Tattnall, grim and gray! And their cheers ring down the ages as they rang beneath the sun O’er those bubbling, troubled waters far away. Ebbs and flows the muddy Pei-Ho by the Gulf of Pechi-Li, Idly floats beside the stream the dragon-flag; Past the batteries of China, looking westward still you see Lazy junks along the lazy river lag. Let the long, long years drop slowly on that lost and ancient land, Ever dear one scene to hearts of gallant men: There’s a hand-clasp and a heart-throb, there’s a word we understand-- “Blood is thicker, sir, than water,” now as then. WALLACE RICE. (By special permission of the author.) 18 BETHEL We mustered at midnight, in darkness we formed, And the whisper went round of a fort to be stormed; But no drum-beat had called us, no trumpet we heard, And no voice of command but our colonel’s low word-- “_Column! Forward!_” And out, through the mist and the murk of the morn, From the beaches of Hampton our barges were borne; And we heard not a sound save the sweep of the oar, Till the word of our colonel came up from the shore-- “_Column! Forward!_” With hearts bounding bravely and eyes all alight, As ye dance to soft music, so trod we that night; Through the aisles of the greenwood, with vines overarched, Tossing dew-drops like gems from our feet, as we marched-- “_Column! Forward!_”