McClure's Magazine/Volume 11/Number 1/The Destroyers
THE DESTROYERS.
By Rudyard Kipling,
Author of "The Jungle Book." "The Seven Seas," "Captains Courageous," etc.
In a word, the torpedo has brought into the navy a fresh zest, and possibilities more brilliant than were existent before its adoption. Torpedoes and Torpedo Vessels: Lieutenant G. E. Armstrong
The strength of twice three thousand horse
That seek the single goal—
The line that holds the signalled course,
The hate that swings the whole:
The stripped hulls, slinking through the gloom,'
Half guessed and gone again—
The brides of death that wait the groom—
The Choosers of the Slain!
Offshore where sea and skyline blend
In rain, the daylight dies;
The sullen, shouldering swells attend
Night and our sacrifice.
Adown the stricken capes no flare—
No mark on spit or bar,—
Darkling and desperate we dare
The blind-fold game of war.
Nearer the wheeling beams that spell
The council of our foes;
Clearer the anxious guns that tell
Their scattered flank to close.
Sheer to the trap they crowd their way
From ports for this unbarred.
Quiet, and count our fatted[6] prey,
The convoy and her guard!
On shoal with scarce a foot below,
Where rock and islet throng,
Hidden and hushed we watch them throw
Their sweeping lights along. . . .
Not here, not here your danger lies—
(Stare hard, O hooded eyne!)
Save where the dazed rock-pigeons rise
The lit cliffs give no sign.
Therefore—to break the rest ye seek
The Narrow Seas to clear—
Hark to the syren's whimpering shriek—
The driven death is here!
Look to your van a league away,—
What midnight terror stays
The bulk that checks against the spray
Her crackling tops ablaze?
Hit and hard hit! The blow went home
The muffled, knocking stroke—
The steam that over-runs the foam—
The foam that thins to smoke—
The smoke that clokes the deep aboil—
The deep that chokes her throes
Till, streaked with ash and sleeked with oil,
The lukewarm whirlpools close!
A shadow down the sickened wave
Long since her slayer fled:
But hear their chattering quick-fires rave
Astern, abeam, ahead!
Panic that shells the drifting spar,
Loud waste with none to check,
Mad fear that rakes the low-hung[8] star
Or sweeps a consort’s deck.
Now, while their silly smoke hangs thick
Now ere their wits they find
Lay in and lance them to the quick—
Our gallied whales are blind.
Good luck to those that see the end
Good-bye to those that drown—
For each his chance as chance shall send—
And God for all! Shut down!
The strength of twice three thousand horse
That serve the one command:
The hand that heaves the headlong force
The hate that backs the hand:
The doom-bolt in the darkness freed—
The mine that splits the main—
The white-hot wake, the ’wildering speed—
The Choosers of the Slain!
Copyright, 1808, by Rudyard Kipling.
- 1↑ "rending" in Five Nations version (5N).
- 2↑ "At gaze" in 5N
- 3↑ "Girdled" in 5N
- 4↑ "up-flung" in 5N
- 5↑ "barking" in 5N
- 6↑ "laden" in 5N
- 7↑ "anxious" in 5N
- 8↑ "a scornful" in 5N (Wikisource contributor note)
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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