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THE DESTROYER OF DESTROYERS
by Rice, Wallace de Groot Cecil [1859- ]

From Santiago, spurning the morrow,
Spain's ships come steaming, big with black sorrow:
Over the ocean, first on our roster,
Runs Richard Wainwright, glad on the Gloucester.
Boast him, and toast him!
Wainwright! The Gloucester!
Great ships and gaunt ships, steel-clad and sable,
Roll on resplendent, monsters of fable:
Crash all our cannon, quick Maxims rattle.
Red death and ruin rush through the battle;
Red death and dread death
Ravage and rattle.
Speed on Spain's cruisers, towers of thunder:
Calm rides the Gloucester, though the waves wonder;
Morro roars at her, enemies looming
On their wakes heave her, vast through the glooming;
Thunders and wonders
Speak from the glooming.
Sped are Spain's cruisers; then 'mid the clangor
Dart her destroyers, lurid with anger;
Shouts Richard Wainwright, quivers the Gloucester:
Where the Furor goes Wainwright has crossed her.
Boast him, and toast him!
Wainwright! The Gloucester!
Wide to the westward El Furor flutters;
Hid in bright vapors there Wainwright mutters;
Under Socapa races the faster,
Smiles at Spain's gunners, laughs at disaster;
Aiming and flaming
Faster and faster.
Wide to the westward El Pluton plunges;
At her with rapiers now Wainwright lunges!
Swords of fierce scarlet, blades blue as lightning;
Rapid guns snapping, little guns brightening;
Four-pounders, six-pounders,
Lunging like lightning.
Done the destroyers, blazing and bursting;
Berserker Wainwright rides to their worsting;
Seethe the Pluton's sides, soon to exhaust her;
Flames the Furor's deck, doomed by the Gloucester.
Boast him, and toast him!
Wainwright! The Gloucester!
Where the Pluton lies lifts the red leven—
Fire-clouds prodigious dash against Heaven;
Where the Pluton lay void swells the ocean;
Shattered and sunken, spent her devotion;
Waves where wet graves were,
Deep in the ocean.
Shrieking toward Cuba, agonized, broken,
El Furor's hasting, her fate bespoken;
There in the shallows 'mid the white surges
Her guns, deserted, moan out their dirges;
Swelling and knelling
Through the white surges.
Wainwright in mercy does his endeavor:
Some he shall rescue; more rest for ever—
Say a prayer for them, one kindly
Ave
.
Spain weeps her wounded, wails a lost navy;
Fails them, bewails them,
Says them an
Ave
.
Off Santiago, when from beleaguer
Rushed forth Cervera, daring and eager,
Who stood Spain's onset? Who met and tossed her?
[636]
Wainwright, the Maine's man, glad on the Gloucester!
Boast him, and toast him!
Wainwright! The Gloucester!
Wallace Rice.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg