THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS

A cheer and salute for the Admiral, and here's to the Captain bold, And never forget the Commodore's debt, when the deeds of might are told!

They stand to the deck through the battle's wreck, when the great sh.e.l.ls roar and screech-- And never they fear; when the foe is near, to practice what they preach: But, off with your hat, and three times three, for the war-ship's true-blue sons, The men who batter the foe--my Boys--the men behind the guns.

Oh, light and merry of heart are they, when they swing into port, once more, When, with more than enough of the "green-backed stuff," they start for their leave-o'-sh.o.r.e; And you'd think, perhaps, that these blue-bloused chaps who loll along the street, Are a tender bit, with salt on it, for some fierce chap to eat-- Some warrior bold, with straps of gold, who dazzles and fairly stuns The modest worth of the sailor boys,--the lads who serve the guns.

But, say not a word, till the shot is heard, that tells of the peace-blood's ebb, Till the long, low roar grows more and more, from the ships of the "Yank" and "Reb."

Till over the deep the tempests sweep, of fire and bursting sh.e.l.l, And the very air is a mad Despair, in the throes of a living h.e.l.l: Then, down, deep down, in the mighty ship, unseen by the mid-day suns, You'll find the chaps who are giving the raps--the men behind the guns.

--ROONEY (_Adapted_).

RAPHAEL SEMMES

DESPOILER OF AMERICAN COMMERCE

(1809-1877)

"Sit apart, write; let them hear or let them forbear; the written word abides, until, slowly and unexpectedly, and in widely sundered places, it has created its own church."--RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

RAPHAEL SEMMES

DESPOILER OF AMERICAN COMMERCE

(1809-1877)

"We started from Ole England fer to cripple up our foes, We started from Ole England fer to strike some rapid blows, So we coasted to the Azores where we ran a packet down, And then to the Bermudas, where we burned the _Royal Crown_, Then we scampered to Bahia, fer to sink the gay _Tyc.o.o.n_, And to scuttle the _Justina_, before the Harvest Moon.

We hit across the ocean to race by Cape Good Hope And in Madagascar channel towed _Johanna_ with a rope.

Away off at Sumatra, we had lots an' lots uv fun, When we winged the _Pulo Condor_; but say,--we had a run, An' a pretty bit uv fightin', when we took the _Emma Jane_ Off th' heated coast uv India, near th' bendin' sugar cane.

Yes, we did some privateerin', as wuz privateerin', sure, An' we scuttled many a schooner, it wuz risky business pure.

But--stranger--we'd be laughin', jest filled with persiflage, If we hadn't had a seance with that bloomin' _Kearsarge_."

--_Song of the Chief Mate of the Alabama._--1864.

It was off the east coast of South America. The year was 1864, and a little schooner--the _Justina_--bobbed along, with the flag of the United States Government flying jauntily from her gaff.

Suddenly there was a movement on deck. Men rushed hither and thither with some show of excitement. Gla.s.ses were brought out and raised,--smothered cries of excitement were mingled with orders to trim sails. All eyes looked with suspicion and dismay at a long, graceful vessel which was seen approaching from the northward.

"The _Alabama_!" cried one.

"Yes, the cursed _Alabama_!" answered another. "We are lost!"

On, on came the pursuing vessel; a cloud of black smoke rolling from her smoke-stack; her white sails bellying in the fresh breeze; for she was rigged like a barquentine, with a lean body, single smoke-stack, and a polished rifle-gun winking in the sun-rays upon her bow. On, on, she came, and then--_puff! boom!_--a single shot came dancing in front of the slow-moving schooner.

"Pull down the colors!" shouted the Captain of the _Justina_. "We're done for!"

Down came the ensign of the United States, and the little schooner was luffed so that she stood still. The _Alabama_ ranged up alongside, a boat soon brought a crew of boarders, and, before many moments, she was in the hands of Captain Raphael Semmes and his men.

That evening the _Alabama_ steamed southward, the crew of the _Justina_ was on board, her rich cargo filled the hold, and a black curl of smoke and hissing flames marked where the proud, little merchantman had once bobbed upon the rolling water. Raphael Semmes was happy, for his work of destroying the commerce of the United States Navy had progressed far better than he had hoped.

[Ill.u.s.tration: RAPHAEL SEMMES.]

"Men!" cried he, "The cause of the Confederate States of America was never brighter upon the ocean than now. Give three times three for Jeff. Davis--his soldiers and his sailors!"

A rousing cheer rose above the waves, and the proud privateer bounded onward upon her career of destruction and death. The _Alabama_ was in the zenith of her power.

The scene now shifts to the harbor of Cherbourg, upon the western coast of France. The _Alabama_ lay there,--safely swinging at her anchor-chains within the break-water. She had come in to refit, for her bottom was much befouled by a long cruise, which had been successful. Built at Birkenhead, England, for the Confederate States Government, she set sail in August, 1862; and had been down the coast of North and South America; around the Cape of Good Hope to India, and back to the sh.o.r.es of France. Sixty-six vessels had fallen into her clutches, and of these fifty-two had been burned; ten had been released on bond; one had been sold, and one set free. Truly she had had a marvellous trip.

As she slumbered on--like a huge sea-turtle--a black cloud of smoke appeared above the break-water, and a low-bodied United States cruiser slowly steamed into the harbor. She nosed about, as if looking for safe anchorage, and kept upon the opposite side of the little bay.

Immediately all hands clambered to the side of the Confederate cruiser, and gla.s.ses were levelled at this vessel which carried the flag of opposition.

"She's stronger than we are," said one of the crew.

Another grinned.

"Look at her eleven-pounders," said he. "I see her name, now. She's the _Kearsarge_, and about our tonnage, but I reckon that she carries more men."

Captain Semmes, himself, had come up from below, and was examining the intruder with his gla.s.s.

"Boys!" said he, "we've got to fight that ship."

And, as he withdrew into the cabin, all seemed to be well pleased with this announcement.

The _Kearsarge_, commanded by Captain John A. Winslow, had been lying at anchor in the Scheldt, off Flushing, Holland, when a gun roared from the forward part of the ship, warning those officers who had gone ash.o.r.e, to come on board. Steam was raised, and, as soon as all were collected on deck, the Captain read a telegram from Mr. Dayton, the Minister to France from the United States. It said:

"The _Alabama_ has arrived at Cherbourg. Come at once or she will escape you!"

"I believe that we'll have an opportunity to fight her," said Captain Winslow. "So be prepared."

At this, all of his sailors cheered wildly.

The _Kearsarge_ was a staunch craft; she was two hundred and thirty-two feet over all, with thirty-three feet of beam, and carried seven guns; two eleven inch pivots, smooth bore; one thirty-pound rifle, and four light thirty-two pounders. Her crew numbered one hundred and sixty-three men. The sleeping _Alabama_ had but one hundred and forty-nine souls on board, and eight guns: one sixty-eight pounder pivot rifle, smooth bore; one one hundred-pounder pivot, and six heavy thirty-two pounders. So, you see, that the two antagonists were evenly matched, with the superior advantage of the numbers of men on the _Kearsarge_ offset by the extra guns of her opponent.

Most of the officers upon the _Kearsarge_ were from the merchant service, and, of the crew, only eleven were of foreign birth. Most of the officers upon the _Alabama_ had served in the navy of the United States; while nearly all of her crew were either English, Irish, or Welsh. A few of the gunners had been trained aboard the _Excellent_: a British training ship in Portsmouth Harbor. Her Captain--Raphael Semmes--was once an officer in the navy of the United States. He had served in the Mexican War, but had joined the Southern cause, as he was a Marylander. He was an able navigator and seaman.

The _Kearsarge_ cruised about the port of Cherbourg, poked her bows nearly into the break-water, and then withdrew. The French neutrality law would only allow a foreign vessel to remain in a harbor for twenty-four hours.

"Will she come out?" was the question now upon every lip aboard the _Kearsarge_. "Will she come out and fight? Oh, just for one crack at this destroyer of our commerce!"

But she did not come out, and the _Kearsarge_ beat around the English Channel in anxious suspense.