University of San Francisco - USF Don Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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THE PIRATE 31 Files of soldiers and men of the sea. They followed our pathway south; They picked our track in ships burnt black, wherever our standard flew And we laughed and sang as we sought our lair For the trap was set and ready there And the line fleets ran from the black corsair, As we cleft the ocean blue. We fled to the cove whence the pirates rove, anchored and sped ashore; And crouched in the grove of the treasure trove, till into the bay the frigate hove Then inland, silently, swift, to move, while their long boats bend the oar. Seven miles we draw a track, Twice a hundred marching wide Into the hills: then double back And crouch in a canyon’s side. Their musket sheen is in between; they’re man to man or more; There’s a cautious stir in the ambuscade, The flash and roar of a fusillade, A slither of pikes on cutlass blade And the soldiers are no more. We strip the dead from heel to head and don their trappings gay; Right well we wed their coats of red; their hats tilt well on the pirate’s head; We let them lie in their grassy bed, and turn to the shore away. Cheering and shouting we reach the sound ; The frigate greets us with rocket showers, For we’ve draped the pirates’ kerchiefs round The heads on the pikes that were meant for ours. And they’d never a hint why our heads were bent when under their lee we lay,

Page 32 text:

M) run jgx.it .lx That Sant Marie, its men and maids, should taste of our wrath at last. There was a mansion upon the hill. W hose silence we never had broke, A village of lying spies to kill, A host for our fire and smoke. Aye, we swore that day they would pay and pay. however the fates should cast; Their blood should wash the stain away. From the mansion hill to the reeking bay Or all that stood on our deck that day W ould swing from a frigate mast. We schemed and planned and gathered a band, a stanch two hundred strong. Tron of heart and steel of hand, the hawks of whatever warrior land, Till the barque of the corsair at last was manned to avenge the corsair’s wrong. Into the fortressed gate we ran. But their guns roared long and true And crumpled the swarthy rover man As their iron missies flew. Out of the bay we dragged our way. crippled we limped along: Stern wards, red ran the reeling tide W here the scuppers dripped from our sundered side Till, distant, the fire of the foeman died. Like a red triumphant song. T ong months more, while safe ashore, we built our shattered crew, And wakened again our cannon’s roar, the beacons on many a far-off shore, Writing again the pirate lore, the merchant’s cruisers knew. Then they fitted a frigate at Sant Marie, Four long rows of cannon mouth.

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THU I (i X AT I AS U Till strange, fierce faces above them laughed, And my foot was into the battle craft And my hanger plunged to the reeking haft In a breast that barred the way. They wake to the crash and the cutlass clash and the pikehead’s reddening shaft A bloody minute their weapons flash as into the dumbstruck ranks we dash And clear our way in a gory slash to the foot of the frigate’s mast. Reels the struggle as to and fro The fighting, swearing sailors sway. And dying, answer, blow for blow. The corsairs’ cutlass play. Till the last go: better they know, to fight to the vengeful last, Than to feel the plank with your burden spring and see the sharks in a raven ring. Or wait in a sullen line, to swing From the sprit of a pirate craft. And now. can’st see? 'Pis Saint Marie that widens on our sight: The Union Jack is flying free above our mast in victor} :— The Jolly Roger dips the sea where the sternward spume is white— The crowds along the shoreline cheer The corses tiiat the yardarms bear Our red coats crowd, the bulwarks near. To greet the cannon’s blare. Were past the fort! We’re in the port! Our naked blades are bright: Xow, Sea-dogs, drink your sword-length’s fill Show them the corsairs’ lust to kill— The mansion beckons from the hill— Lord! It shall be a night! 1'incait William Hall bunt.