Broadside

Sail ho was the look out's cry
that they all shipped aboard to hear,
this initial sight of the enemy
was a thrill that turned to fear.

Drums beat them to quarters
when they closed to cannon range,
giddy with excitement
familiar voices sounded strange.

Marines all scrambled topside
and powder monkeys ran,
guts churned in anticipation
that gripped each and every man.

When the enemy hoisted his colors
they knew there'd be a fight,
be it Spaniard, Frenchman or pirate
to be sunk 'ere came the night.

Maneuver up to windward
put the enemy in your lee,
trim all sails and cannon wicks
to fight a war at sea.

Officers on the gundecks
listened for the sound,
of the order to open fire
as the ship was brought around.

Chock the wheels of the carriages
open the gun doors wide,
wait now boys for the order
then give 'em a full BROADSIDE!

The ship heels with the recoil
of a clap of thunder and fire
rolling decks and gun smoke
couldn't take you any higher.

But returning shots wreak havoc
on a wooden sailing ship,
cannon balls and splinters
through flesh and bone will rip.

Shipmates torn to pieces
unnerve the strongest men
each knowing that it comes to all
the only question is when.

Sails and spars masts rain down
as fires leaped to the rigging,
while the gunners smiled grimly
at the deep blue grave they were digging.

Marines took aim and muskets rattled
clearing enemies from their decks,
such ferocity and finality
was sufficient to settle all bets.

Smoke would clear and ships would sink
men would drown and hang,
and about their deeds in battle
the victors proudly sang.

Rows of cannon ran out and fired
when the gun ports opened wide,
a man 'o war is a terrible thing
when it fires a full broadside.

Man's largest weapons at the time
wielded with deadly skill,
calm courage needed a steady hand
when going to sea to kill.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved