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, gaily they came to shore,
And never a man afraid;
When suddenly 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
Was fitter to die than he!