But she never "came around," and Captain Raphael Semmes was soon safe upon British soil. He had fought a game fight. The superior gunnery of the sailors of the _Kearsarge_ had been too much for him. Nine of his crew were dead and twenty-one wounded, while the _Kearsarge_ had no one killed and but three wounded; one of whom died shortly afterwards.
Thus,--the lesson is:
If you want to win: Learn how to shoot straight!
Captain Raphael Semmes died quietly at Mobile, Alabama, August 30th, 1877. His ill-fated _Alabama_ had inflicted a loss of over seven million dollars upon the commerce of the United States.
A number of wise men met, many years afterwards, in Geneva, Switzerland, and decided, that, as the British Government had allowed this vessel to leave their sh.o.r.es, when warned by the American minister of her character and intention to go privateering, it should therefore pay for all the vessels which the graceful cruiser had destroyed. England had broken the neutrality laws.
John Bull paid up.
But, --Boys-- it hurt!
EL CAPITAN
"There was a Captain-General who ruled in Vera Cruz, And what we used to hear of him was always evil news: He was a pirate on the sea--a robber on the sh.o.r.e, The Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
"There was a Yankee skipper who round about did roam; His name was Stephen Folger,--Nantucket was his home: And having sailed to Vera Cruz, he had been _skinned_ full sore By the Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
"But having got away alive, though all his cash was gone, He said, "If there is vengeance, I will surely try it on!
And I do wish that I may be hung,--if I don"t clear the score With Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador."
"He shipped a crew of seventy men--well-armed men were they, And sixty of them in the hold he darkly stowed away; And, sailing back to Vera Cruz, was sighted from the sh.o.r.e By the Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
"With twenty-five soldados, he came on board, so pleased, And said "_Maldito_, Yankee,--again your ship is seized.
How many sailors have you got?" Said Folger, "Ten--no more,"
To the Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
""But come into my cabin and take a gla.s.s of wine, I do suppose, as usual, I"ll have to pay a fine: I"ve got some old Madeira, and we"ll talk the matter o"er-- My Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador."
"And, as over the Madeira the Captain-General boozed, It seemed to him as if his head were getting quite confused; For, it happened that some morphine had travelled from "the Store"
To the gla.s.s of Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
""What is it makes the vessel roll? What sounds are these I hear?
It seems as if the rising waves were beating on my ear!"
"Oh, it is the breaking of the surf--just that, and nothing more, My Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador!"
"The Governor was in a sleep, which muddled up his brains; The seventy men had caught his "gang" and put them all in chains; And, when he woke the following day, he could not see the sh.o.r.e, For he was away out on the sea--the Don San Salvador.
""Now do you see the yard-arm--and understand the thing?"
Said rough, old Folger, viciously--"for this is where you"ll swing, Or forty thousand dollars you shall pay me from your store, My Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador!"
"The Captain he took up a pen--the order he did sign-- "O my, but Senor Yankee! You charge great guns for wine!"
Yet it was not until the draft was paid, they let him go ash.o.r.e, El Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.
"The greater sharp will some day find another sharper wit; It always makes the Devil laugh to see a biter bit; It takes two Spaniards, any day, to comb a Yankee o"er-- Even two like Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador."
RETROSPECT
The curtain falls, the plays are done, To roar of sh.e.l.l and shock of gun; The scuttled shipping bobs and sways, In grime and muck of shallow bays.
The tattered ensigns mould"ring lie, As diving otters bark and cry; While--in the lee of crumbling piers, The rotting hulk its decking rears.
Gray, screaming kestrels wheel and sheer, Above the wasted steering gear.
In moulding kelp and mackerel"s sheen, The blighted log-book hides unseen.
Red flash the beams of northern blaze.
Through beaded clouds of Elmo"s haze; While dim, unkempt, the ghostly crew Float by, and chant the lesson true!
Sons of the fog-bound Northland; sons of the blinding seas, If ye would cherish the trust which your fathers left, Ye must strive--ye must work--without ease.
Strong have your good sires battled, oft have your fathers bled, If ye would hold up the flag which they"ve never let sag, Ye must plod--ye must creep where they"ve led.
The shimmering icebergs call you; the plunging screw-drums scream, By shallowing shoals they haul you, to the beat of the walking beam.
The twisting petrels chatter, as ye drift by the waiting fleet, In your towering grim, gray Dreadnought,--a king who sneers at defeat.
While the silken pennons flutter; as the frozen halyards strain; Comes the growling old-world mutter, the voice of the million slain:
_Keep to your manly war games; keep to your warrior"s play._ _Though the dove of peace is dancing to the sounding truce harp"s lay._ _Arbitrate if you have to; smooth it o"er if you must,_ _But, be prepared for battle, to parry the war king"s thrust._ _Don"t foster the chip on the shoulder; don"t hasten the slap in the face._ _But, burnish your sword, ere you"re older,--the blade of the ancient race._ _Hark to the deeds of your fathers; cherish the stories I"ve told,_ _Then--go and do like, if you have to--and die--like a Hero of Old._