91. The Little Monitor and the Merrimac
By CHARLES MARTIN (1862)
COMPANIONS: I will tell you what I saw at Newport News
when the Merrimac destroyed the Congress and the
Cumberland, and fought with the Monitor. It
was a drama in three acts, and twelve hours will elapse between
the second and third acts.
"Let us begin at the beginning"— 1861. The North Atlantic
squadron is at Hampton Roads, except the frigate Congress and
the razee Cumberland; they are anchored at Newport News,
blockading the James River and Norfolk. The Merrimac, the
rebel ram, is in the dry dock of the Norfolk navy-yard.
The Monitor is building in New York City. It is determined to
keep the Merrimac in the dry dock, wait the arrival of the
Monitor, send her out to meet her, and in the action it is
positive that an opportunity will offer to pierce and sink her.
The ram is a terror, and both sides say, "When the Merrimac
comes out! "The last of February, 1862, the Monitor is ready
for sea; she will sail for Hampton Roads in charge of a steamer.
There is a rumor that she has broken her steering gear before
reaching Sandy Hook. She will be towed to Washington for
repairs. The Rebel spies report her a failure— steering defective,
turret revolves with difficulty, and when the smoke of her guns
in action is added to the defects of ventilation, it will be
impossible for human beings to live aboard of her. No Monitor
to fight, the Southern press and people grumble ; they pitch
into the Merrimac. Why does she lie idle ? Send her out to
destroy the Congress and the Cumberland, that have so long
bullied Norfolk, then sweep away the fleet at Hampton Roads,
starve out Fortress Monroe, go north to Baltimore and New
York and Boston, and destroy and plunder; and the voice of
the people, not always an inspiration, prevails, and the ram is
floated and manned and armed, and March 8th is bright and
sunny when she steams down the Elizabeth
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The Merrimac had been a wooden vessel in the old navy, but was cut down—and built up
with sloping bow plates.
River to carry out the first part of her programme. And all
Norfolk and Portsmouth ride and run to the bank of the James,
to have a picnic, and assist at a naval battle and victory. The
cry of "Wolf ! "has so often been heard aboard the ships that
the
Merrimac has lost much of her terrors. They argue : "If she
is a success, why doesn't she come out and destroy us.? "And
when seen this morning at the mouth of the river: "It is only a
trial trip or a demonstration."But she creeps along the opposite
shore, and both ships beat to quarters and get ready for action.
The boats of the Cumberland are lowered, made fast to each
other in line, anchored between the ship and the shore, about
an eighth of a mile distant.
Here are two large sailing frigates on a calm day, at slack water,
anchored in a narrow channel, impossible to get under weigh
and manœuvre, and must lie and hammer, and be hammered,
so long as they hold together, or until they sink at their
anchors. To help them is a tug, the Zouave, once used in the
basin at Albany to tow canal boats under the grain elevator.
The Congress is the senior ship; the tug makes fast to her. The
Congress slips her cable and tries to get under weigh. The tug
does her best and breaks her engine. The Congress goes
aground in line with the shore. The Zouave floats down the
river, firing her pop-guns at the Merrimac as she drifts by her.
The command of both the ships devolves on the first
lieutenants. On board the Cumberland all hands are allowed to
remain on deck, watching the slow approach of the Merrimac,
and she comes on so slowly, the pilot declares she has missed
the channel; she draws too much water to use her ram. She
continues
to advance, and two gun-boats, the Yorktown and the Teaser,
accompany her. Again they beat to quarters, and every one
goes to his station. There is a platform on the roof of the
Merrimac. Her captain is standing on it. When she is near
enough, he hails, "Do you surrender? ""Never! "is the reply.
The order to fire is given ; the shot of the starboard battery
rattles on the iron roof of the
Merrimac. She answers with a
shell; it sweeps the forward pivot gun, it kills and wounds ten of
the gun's crew. A second slaughters the marines at the after
pivot gun. The Yorktown and the Teazer keep tip a constant
fire. She bears down on the Cumriand. She rams her just aft the
starboard bow' The ram goes into the sides of the ship as a
knife goes into a cheese. The
Merrimac tries to back out; the
tide is making; it catches against her great length at a right
angle with the
Cumberland; it slews her around; the weakened,
lengthened ram breaks off; she leaves it in the
Cumberland. The
battle rages, broadside answers broadside, and the sanded deck
is red and slippery with the blood of the wounded and dying;
they are dragged amidships out of the way of the guns ; there is
no one and no time to take them below. Delirium seizes the
crew; they strip to their trousers, tie their handkerchiefs round
their heads, kick off their shoes, fight and yell like demons, load
and fire at will, keep it tip for the rest of the forty-two minutes
the ship is sinking, and fire a last gun as the water rushes into
her ports.
The Merrimac turns to the Congress. She is aground, but she
fires her guns till the red-hot shot from the enemy sets her on
fire, and the flames drive the men away from the battery. She
has forty years
of seasoning; she burns like a torch. Her commanding officer is
killed, and her deck strewn with killed and wounded. The wind
is off shore; they drag the wounded under the windward
bulwark, where all hands take refuge from the flames. The
sharpshooters on shore drive away a tug from the enemy. The
crew and wounded of the
Congress are safely landed. She
burns the rest of the afternoon and evening, discharging her
loaded guns over the camp. At midnight the fire has reached her
magazines— the
Congress disappears.
When it is signalled to the fleet at Hampton Roads that the
Merrimac, has come out, the Minnesota leaves her anchorage
and hastens to join the battle. Her pilot puts her aground off the
Elizabeth River, and she lies there helpless. The Merrimac has
turned back for Norfolk. She has suffered from the shot of the
Congress and the Cumberland, or she would stop and destroy
the Minnesota; instead, with the Yorktown and Teazer, she
goes back into the river. Sunday morning, March 9th, the
Merrimac is coming out to finish her work. She will destroy the
Minnesota. As she nears her, the Monitor appears from behind
the helpless ship; she has slipped in during the night, and so
quietly, her presence is unknown in the camp. And David goes
out to meet Goliath, and every man who can walk to the beach
sits down there, spectators of the first iron-clad battle in the
world. The day is calm, the smoke hangs thick on the water, the
low vessels are hidden by the smoke. They are so sure of their
invulnerability, they fight at arm's length. They fight so near the
shore, the flash of their guns is seen, and the noise is heard of
the heavy shot pounding the armor. They haul out for
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The Merrimac never tried another fight and was at last destroyed by the rebels.
breath, and again disappear in the smoke. The
Merrimac
stops firing, the smoke lifts, she is running down the
Monitor,
but she has left her ram in the
Cumberland. The
Monitor slips
away, turns, and renews the action. One P.M.—they have
fought Since 8.30 A.M. The crews of both ships are suffocating
under the armor. The frames supporting the iron roof of the
Merrimac are sprung and shattered. The turret of the
Monitor
is dented with shot, and is revolved with difficulty. The
captain of the
Merrimac is wounded in the leg; the captain of
the
Monitor is blinded with powder. It is a drawn game. The
Merrimac, leaking badly, goes back to Norfolk; the
Monitor
returns to Hampton Roads.