ðæt nˈaɪt ðə ɹˈɪvɚ ɹˈoʊz, flˈoʊɾɪŋ ðɪ ˈaɪɚŋklædz, ænd ðə dʒˈeɪmz ɹˈɪvɚ skwˈɑːdɹən tɹˈaɪd tə ɹˈʌn ˌʌndɚ ðə kˈʌvɚɹ ʌv dˈɑːɹk.
That night the river rose, floating the ironclads, and the James River Squadron tried to run under the cover of dark.