Ready

Phoebe Cary

1861

Loaded with gallant soldiers,
    A boat shot in to the land,
  And lay at the right of Rodman’s Point
    With her keel upon the sand.

Lightly, gayly, they came to shore,
    And never a man afraid;
  When sudden the enemy opened fire
    From his deadly ambuscade.

Each man fell flat on the bottom
    Of the boat; and the captain said:
  “If we lie here, we all are captured,
    And the first who moves is dead!”

Then out spoke a negro sailor,
    No slavish soul had he;
  “Somebody’s got to die, boys,
    And it might as well be me!”

Firmly he rose, and fearlessly
    Stepped out into the tide;
  He pushed the vessel safely off,
    Then fell across her side:

Fell, pierced by a dozen bullets,
    As the boat swung clear and free;—
  But there wasn’t a man of them that day
    Who was fitter to die than he!