The Last Fight

by Lewis Frank Tooker English

That night I think that no one slept;   No bells were struck, no whistle blew, And when the watch was changed I crept   From man to man of all the crew With whispered orders. Though we swept   Through roaring seas, we hushed the clock,   And muffled every clanking block. So when one fool, unheeding, cried   Some petty order, straight I ran, And threw him sprawling o’er the side.   All life is but a narrow span: It little matters that one bide   A moment longer here, for all   Fare the same road, whate’er befall. But vain my care; for when the day   Broke gray and wet, we saw the foe But half a stormy league away.   By noon we saw his black bows throw Five fathoms high a wall of spray;   A little more, we heard the drum,   And knew that our last hour had come. All day our crew had lined the side   With grim, set faces, muttering; And once a boy (the first that died)   One of our wild songs tried to sing: But when their first shot missed us wide,   A dozen sprang above our rail,   Shook fists, and roared a cursing hail. Thereon, all hot for war, they bound   Their heads with cool, wet bands, and drew Their belts close, and their keen blades ground;   Then, at the next gun’s puff of blue, We set the grog-cup on its round,   And pledged for life or pledged for death   Our last sigh of expiring breath. Laughing, our brown young singer fell   As their next shot crashed through our rail; Then ’twixt us flashed the fire of hell,   That shattered spar and riddled sail. What ill we wrought we could not tell;   But blood-red all their scuppers dripped   When their black hull to starboard dipped. Nine times I saw our helmsman fall,   And nine times sent new men, who took The whirling wheel as at death’s call;   But when I saw the last one look From sky to deck, then, reeling, crawl   Under the shattered rail to die,   I knew where I should surely lie. I could not send more men to stand   And turn in idleness the wheel Until they took death’s beckoning hand,   While others, meeting steel with steel, Flamed out their lives—an eager band,   Cheers on their lips, and in their eyes   The goal-rapt look of high emprise. So to the wheel I went. Like bees   I heard the shot go darting by; There came a trembling in my knees,   And black spots whirled about the sky. I thought of things beyond the seas—   The little town where I was born,   And swallows twittering in the morn. A wounded creature drew him where   I grasped the wheel, and begged to steer. It mattered not how he might fare   The little time he had for fear; So if I left this to his care   He too might serve us yet, he said.   He died there while I shook my head. I would not fall so like a dog,   My helpless back turned to the foe; So when his great hulk, like a log,   Came surging past our quarter, lo! With helm hard down, straight through the fog   Of battle smoke, and luffing wide,   I sent our sharp bow through his side. The willing waves came rushing in   The ragged entrance that we gave; Like snakes I heard their green coils spin   Up, up, around our floating grave; But dauntless still, amid a din   Of clashing steel and battle-shout,   We rushed to drive their boarders out. Around me in a closing ring   My grim-faced foemen darkly drew; Then, sweeter than the lark in spring,   Loud rang our blades; the red sparks flew. Twice, thrice, I felt the sudden sting   Of some keen stroke; then, swinging fair,   My own clave more than empty air. The fight went raging past me when   My good blade cleared a silent place; Then in a ring of fallen men   I paused to breathe a little space. Elsewhere the deck roared like a glen   When mountain torrents meet; the fray   A moment then seemed far away. The barren sea swept to the sky;   The empty sky dipped to the sea; Such utter waste could scarcely lie   Beyond death’s starved periphery. Only one living thing went by:   Far overhead an ominous bird   Rode down the gale with wings unstirred. Windward I saw the billows swing   Dark crests to beckon others on To see our end; then, hurrying   To reach us ere we should be gone, They came, like tigers mad to fling   Their jostling bodies on our ships,   And snarl at us with foaming lips. There was no time to spare: a wave   E’en then broke growling at my feet; One last look to the sky I gave,   Then sprang my eager foes to meet. Loud rang the fray above our grave—   I felt the vessel downward reel   As my last thrust met thrusting steel. I heard a roaring in my ears;   A green wall pressed against my eyes; Down, down I passed; the vanished years   I saw in mimicry arise. Yet even then I felt no fears,   And with my last expiring breath   My past rose up and mocked at death.

More poems by Lewis Frank Tooker

All poems by Lewis Frank Tooker →