Today while waiting for the computer to reboot, I was reading the FORT MORGAN SELF-GUIDED TOUR and discovered an interesting character, Commander Tunis Craven, commanding officer of the U.S.S. Tecumseh at the Battle of Mobile Bay on August 5, 1864. I was intrigued by his name because last week on our trek to Talbot County, Maryland to find the grave of the C.S.S. Tennessee commanding officer, Admiral Franklin Buchanan, Buchanan's grave was located near Tunis Mill Road so I wanted to see if there was some sort of ironic connection. There wasn't other than both men were officers in the U.S. Navy at the same time. What I DID DISCOVER was the following poem dedicated to Craven's bravery while the U.S.S. Tecumseh sank in Mobile Bay. Tunis Craven's remains may still be inside the wreckage of the U.S.S. Tecumseh that presently rests at the bottom of Mobile Bay off Mobile Point.

Craven by Henry Newbolt
(Mobile Bay, 1864)
Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower,
Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame;
Gun to gun he had battered the fort for an hour,
Now was the time for a charge to end the game.

There lay the narrowing channel, smooth and grim,
A hundred deaths beneath it, and never a sign;
There lay the enemy's ships, and sink or swim
The flag was flying, and he was head of the line.

The fleet behind was jamming; the monitor hung
Beating the stream; the roar for a moment hushed,
Craven spoke to the pilot; slow she swung;
Again he spoke, and right for the foe she rushed.

Into the narrowing channel, between the shore
And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank;
She turned but a yard too short; a muffled roar,
A mountainous wave, and she rolled, righted, and sank.

Over the manhole, up in the iron-clad tower,
Pilot and Captain met as they turned to fly:
The hundredth part of a moment seemed an hour,
For one could pass to be saved, and one must die.

They stood like men in a dream: Craven spoke,
Spoke as he lived and fought, with a Captain's pride,
"After you, Pilot." The pilot woke,
Down the ladder he went, and Craven died.

All men praise the deed and the manner, but we---
We set it apart from the pride that stoops to the proud,
The strength that is supple to serve the strong and free,
The grace of the empty hands and promises loud:

Sidney thirsting, a humbler need to slake,
Nelson waiting his turn for the surgeon's hand,
Lucas crushed with chains for a comrade's sake,
Outram coveting right before command:

These were paladins, these were Craven's peers,
These with him shall be crowned in story and song,
Crowned with the glitter of steel and the glimmer of tears,
Princes of courtesy, merciful, proud, and strong.
 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tunis_Craven