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, | 5 |
| And troubled his soul no more. | |
| |
| The moon was dim in the western sky, | |
| And a mist fell soft on the sea, | |
| As we slipped away from the Siren brig | |
| And headed for Tripoli. | 10 |
| |
| Behind us the hulk of the Siren lay, | |
| Before us the empty night; | |
| And when again we looked behind | |
| The Siren was gone from our sight. | |
| |
| Nothing behind us, and nothing before, | 15 |
| Only the silence and rain, | |
| As the jaws of the sea took hold of our bows | |
| And cast us up again. | |
| |
| Through the rain and the silence we stole along, | |
| Cautious and stealthy and slow, | 20 |
| For we knew the waters were full of those | |
| Who might challenge the Mastico. | |
| |
| But nothing we saw till we saw the ghost | |
| Of the ship we had come to see, | |
| Her ghostly lights and her ghostly frame | 25 |
| Rolling uneasily. | |
| |
| And as we looked, the mist drew up | |
| And the moon threw off her veil, | |
| And we saw the ship in the pale moonlight, | |
| Ghostly and drear and pale. | 30 |
| |
| Then spoke Decatur low and said: | |
| “To the bulwarks’ shadow all! | |
| But the six who wear the Tripoli dress | |
| Shall answer the sentinel’s call.” | |
| |
| “What ship is that?” cried the sentinel. | 35 |
| “No ship,” was the answer free; | |
| “But only a Malta ketch in distress | |
| Wanting to moor in your lee. | |
| |
| “We have lost our anchor, and wait for day | |
| To sail into Tripoli town, | 40 |
| And the sea rolls fierce and high to-night, | |
| So cast a cable down.” | |
| |
| Then close to the frigate’s side we came, | |
| Made fast to her unforbid— | |
| Six of us bold in the heathen dress, | 45 |
| The rest of us lying hid. | |
| |
| But one who saw us hiding there | |
| “Americano!” cried. | |
| Then straight we rose and made a rush | |
| Pellmell up the frigate’s side. | 50 |
| |
| Less than a hundred men were we, | |
| And the heathen were twenty score; | |
| But a Yankee sailor in those old days | |
| Liked odds of one to four. | |
| |
| And first we cleaned the quarter deck, | 55 |
| And then from stern to stem | |
| We charged into our enemies | |
| And quickly slaughtered them. | |
| |
| All around was the dreadful sound | |
| Of corpses striking the sea, | 60 |
| And the awful shrieks of dying men | |
| In their last agony. | |
| |
| The heathen fought like devils all, | |
| But one by one they fell, | |
| Swept from the deck by our cutlasses | 65 |
| To the water, and so to hell. | |
| |
| Some we found in the black of the hold, | |
| Some to the fo’c’s’le fled, | |
| But all in vain; we sought them out | |
| And left them lying dead; | 70 |
| |
| Till at last no soul but Christian souls | |
| Upon that ship was found; | |
| The twenty score were dead, and we, | |
| The hundred, safe and sound. | |
| |
| And, stumbling over the tangled dead, | 75 |
| The deck a crimson tide, | |
| We fired the ship from keel to shrouds | |
| And tumbled over the side. | |
| |
| Then out to sea we sailed once more | |
| With the world as light as day, | 80 |
| And the flames revealed a hundred sail | |
| Of the heathen there in the bay. | |
| |
| All suddenly the red light paled, | |
| And the rain rang out on the sea; | |
| Then—a dazzling flash, a deafening roar, | 85 |
| Between us and Tripoli! | |
| |
| Then, nothing behind us, and nothing before, | |
| Only the silence and rain; | |
| And the jaws of the sea took hold of our bows | |
| And cast us up again. | 90 |
| |
| 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, | 95 |
| And troubled his soul no more. | |
| |
