Chapter XIV: The First Ironclads (1862)

Will they sink or swim?--Captain Ericsson, the Swede--The
_Merrimac_ raised and armoured--The _Monitor_ built by private
venture--_Merrimac_ surprises Fort Monroe--The _Cumberland_
attacked--The silent monster comes on--Her ram makes an
impression--Morris refuses to strike his flag--The _Cumberland_
goes down--The _Congress_ is next for attention--On fire and
forced to surrender--Blows up at midnight--The _Minnesota_ aground
shows she can bite--General panic--Was it Providence?--A light
at sea--Only a cheese-box on a raft--Sunday’s fight between two
monsters--The _Merrimac_ finds she is deeply hurt, wounded to
death--The four long hours--Worden and Buchanan both do their
best--Signals for help--The fiery end of the _Whitehall_ gunboat.

The War of Secession between the Federals and Confederate States gave rise to a new kind of warship--the ironclad. The _Merrimac_ was converted into such a vessel by the South, and the _Monitor_ was built by the North, or Federals, in the space of 100 days.

Most people, experts and others, predicted a watery grave for a ship cased in iron. Very few ventured on board at the launching of the _Monitor_, and even the builders provided a steam-tug to save the passengers in case she went to the bottom. But the _Monitor_, after the first graceful dip, sat like a wild duck on a mere, being flat-bottomed, having a turret 9 feet high, capable of revolving, with two circular portholes to fire from. Captain Ericsson, a Swede, was her architect.

The South had seized all the forts and dockyards below Chesapeake Bay, and had struck great consternation into the Federal hearts. When the Federals burnt and evacuated the Norfolk Navy Yard they scuttled the steam frigate _Merrimac_; but the Confederates raised her, plated her with railroad iron, and fitted her with a slanting roof to serve as a shield. The _Merrimac_, when finished, did not take the water so gracefully as the _Monitor_, for her weight was so enormous that she nearly broke her back in launching. It was known that both sides were at work upon some monster of the deep, but which would be ready first no one could predict.

However, on the 8th of March the _Merrimac_ left Norfolk, accompanied by two other war vessels--the _Jamestown_ and _Yorktown_--and followed by a little fleet of armed tugs. She was heading for Newport News, where there was a Federal garrison, guarded by the sailing frigates the _Cumberland_ and the _Congress_, which rode at anchor within half a mile of the shore battery. Their boats were hanging at the booms, and the week’s washing fluttered in the rigging--as peaceful a scene as could be imagined.

But the look-out on Fortress Monroe caught sight of a monster vessel ploughing the waves, and signalled to the war-ships to get under way. The _Minnesota_ had her steam up and soon went off towards Newport News, where the _Cumberland_ and _Congress_ lay on blockading duty. The crew of the _Cumberland_, seeing a strange ship come round Craney Island, recognized her as the expected ironclad. All hands were beat to quarters, and the _Cumberland_ swung across the channel in order to bring her broadside to bear. The slanting roof of the _Merrimac_ puzzled them, and the long iron ram churned up the water as she advanced relentlessly and in silence. At the distance of a mile the _Cumberland_ began to use her pivot guns, but the _Merrimac_ made no reply, only steamed majestically on, though broadside after broadside was poured upon her like hail; but the heavy shot glanced off harmlessly, and ever the _Merrimac_ came closer and closer.

As she passed the _Congress_ the _Merrimac_ fired one broadside, and then, leaving her to the tender mercies of the _Jamestown_ and the _Yorktown_, made straight for the _Cumberland_. Both the Federal ships discharged their broadsides against the armoured monster. She just quivered under the blow and came on in silence. The National battery at Newport News opened upon her at point-blank range, and every man on board the _Cumberland_ drew a breath of relief. “Now,” they thought, “our massive guns will teach her a lesson.” But it seemed as if the _Merrimac_ had received no damage. Not a soul could be seen on her decks, not a splinter on her sides; but she was coming towards them--coming madly, as it seemed, to destruction.

What did the _Merrimac_ mean? Why did she not fire her guns? The crew on the _Cumberland_ soon found out, when the great ram struck their frigate amidships with a shock that threw every man down on the deck, crushed in the ribs, and heeled the ship over till her topsail yards almost splashed the water. The _Merrimac_ reversed her engines and backed away under a murderous broadside, replying as she too turned her broadside with a deadly volley of shot and shell, which swept her enemy’s decks of guns and men. Meanwhile the water was pouring into the terrible gaping wound in the side of the _Cumberland_; but Lieutenant Morris, who was in command, fought her to the last with unflinching courage. Yet once again the _Merrimac_ turned her prow and crushed in close upon the old wound, and the great oak ribs snapped like twigs under the weight of iron. The _Cumberland_ began to ride lower in the water, but still aimed with calm accuracy at the _Merrimac_, riddling her smoke-stack and bending her anchor. But the _Merrimac_ lay off a little and poured a storm of shot into the sinking frigate, dealing death and mutilation. Yet Morris refused to yield, and the whole crew in their desperate plight thought of nothing but saving the honour of the flag. One sailor, with both his legs shot off, hobbled up to his gun on bleeding stumps and pulled the lanyard, then fell in a swoon by the gun.

“She is sinking!” was the cry; but they still fought on, though the frigate was settling deeper every minute. Then the water came gurgling into the portholes, and choked the guns and drowned the gunners. The last gunner was knee-deep in water when he fired the last shot, and then the _Cumberland_ careened over on her side. Down she sank amid a whirl of circling waters, a caldron of wave and air--caught in one, and vomiting steam all around and over the dying vessel, and in a moment 400 men were on the verge of death, some being carried down into the revolving vortex, some being cast up on the outside, some swimming frantically towards the shore, or reaching desperately for fragments of wreck. About 100 went down with the ship. The chaplain went down with the wounded who were below deck.

It took forty-five minutes for the _Merrimac_ to finish off the _Cumberland_, and she now turned her ram towards the _Congress_, which spread all sail and endeavoured to get clear away.

But at this moment the _Congress_ grounded and became helpless. The gunboats of the Confederates were still firing heavily at her from a respectful distance, but as they saw the _Merrimac_ approaching they too drew near under her protection.

The _Merrimac_ chose her position at about 100 yards’ range, despising the guns of the _Congress_, and raked her fore and aft, dismounting guns and covering her deck with mangled limbs. In three places the _Congress_ burst into flames, and the dry timber crackled and blazed and smoked like a volcano. The men could not stand by the guns for the fervent heat. The wounded were slowly burned alive. The officers could not bear this sight, and hauled down the flag.

A tug was sent by the Confederates to take off the prisoners from the burning wreck, but, unfortunately, some sharpshooters from the shore still kept up a hot fire upon the Southern vessels. In consequence of this the _Merrimac_ fired another broadside into the sinking _Congress_, and killed many more of her crew. The _Congress_, being deserted, still burned on till darkness fell, and the ruddy glare lit up the moving waters as if they had been a sea of blood. At midnight the fire reached her magazine, and with a thunder of explosion the _Congress_ blew up into a myriad fragments. The Northern warship _Minnesota_ had also grounded, so had the frigate _St. Lawrence_, and the _Merrimac_, while it was still light enough to aim a gun, steamed towards them to see what little attention she could bestow upon them. The _Merrimac_ was, perhaps, a little overconfident in her coat of mail. Anyhow, she risked receiving a broadside at very short range from the heavy guns of the _Minnesota_.

A shot seems to have entered her porthole and damaged her machinery, for she hesitated, put about, and returned to safe anchorage behind Craney Island.

Meanwhile, a very natural terror was gnawing at the hearts of the Federal crews and garrison in Hampton Roads.

They had listened to the sounds of the conflict and seen the dire results in wonder, almost in despair. The _Merrimac_, they said, was invulnerable. Not a shot could pierce her. On Sunday morning she would return and destroy the whole Federal fleet at her leisure. She would shell Newport News Point and Fortress Monroe, at the entrance of Hampton Roads, set everything on fire, and drive the garrisons from their guns. Nay, as the telegraph wires flashed the news to Washington, it was foreseen with an agony of horror that the _Merrimac_ might ascend the Potomac and lay the capital in ashes. Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Boston, were in a state of panic. No one knew what might not follow. It was a blind horror of a new and unknown danger. For the experience of one hour had rendered the shipbuilding of the past a scorn and a laughing-stock. Wooden frigates might go to the scrap-heap now. With the _Cumberland_ had gone down morally all the great navies of Europe. A new order had to be found for ship and battery, and steel must take the place of planks of oak.

Such a night of anxiety and alarm the Northern States had never experienced. It was ten o’clock at night when the look-out in the garrison thought he saw lights out at sea in Chesapeake Bay. He called his mate. By-and-by they made them out to be two small steamers heading for Old Point Comfort. An eye-witness from Fort Monroe thus describes what happened:

“Oh, what a night that was! I can never forget it. There was no fear during the long hours--danger, I find, does not bring that--but there was a longing for some interposition of God and waiting upon Him, from whom we felt our help must come, in earnest, fervent prayer, while not neglecting all the means of martial defence. Fugitives from Newport News kept arriving. Ladies and children had walked the long ten miles from Newport News, feeling that their presence only embarrassed their brave husbands. Sailors from the _Congress_ and _Cumberland_ came, one of them with his ship’s flag bound about his waist, as he had swum with it ashore. Dusky fugitives came mournfully fleeing from a fate worse than death--slavery. These entered my cabin hungry and weary. The heavens were aflame with the burning _Congress_. But there were no soldiers among the flying host. The sailors came only to seek another chance at the enemy, since the _Cumberland_ had gone down in deep waters, and the _Congress_ had gone upward, as if a chariot of fire, to convey the manly souls whose bodies had perished in that conflict upward to heaven.

“The heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o’er,”

but the night was not half so heavy as our hearts, nor so dark as our prospects. All at once a speck of light gleamed on the distant wave. It moved; it came nearer and nearer, and at ten o’clock at night the _Monitor_ appeared.

“‘When the tale of bricks is doubled, Moses comes!’

“I never more firmly believed in special Providence than at that hour. Even sceptics for the moment were converted, and said: ‘God has sent her!’ But how insignificant she looked! She was but a speck on the dark blue sea at night, almost a laughable object by day. The enemy call her ‘a cheese-box on a raft,’ and the comparison is a good one. Could she meet the _Merrimac_? The morrow must determine, for, under God, the _Monitor_ is our only hope now.”

Lieutenant Worden, the Commander of the _Monitor_, on arriving at Fort Monroe was instructed to lie alongside the _Minnesota_, to guard her in case of a night attack. At eleven o’clock she set out, and her arrival was hailed with delight by the men on board the frigate, though some shook their heads at the strange unshapely toy which a private individual had constructed to save the Federal fleet. But few slept that night. The odds against the _Monitor_ seemed too great. She mounted but two guns, while the _Merrimac_ carried ten. Sunday morning broke sunny and beautiful, and the sea was peaceful and calm. Near Sewell’s Point, opposite Hampton Roads, three vessels were at anchor, one of them the _Merrimac_.

About nine o’clock glasses showed a stir amongst them, and instantly the _Monitor_ awoke to life and action, closing her iron hatches and putting on the dead-light covers. The _Monitor_, like a great girdle-cake, only stood 2 feet out of the water; her smooth surface was broken only by the turret and pilot-house.

Then they saw the _Merrimac_ coming, looking like a submerged house, with roof only out of the water. After her came the _Jamestown_ and _Yorktown_, and a fleet of tug-boats crowded with ladies and gentlemen from Norfolk eager to see the fun.

The _Merrimac_, entirely unconscious of the new enemy she had to encounter, steamed slowly along and fired upon the _Minnesota_, which was still aground. The _Minnesota_ replied with a broadside and the usual result; but the _Monitor_ steamed out from behind and boldly advanced to meet her antagonist, and when at a distance of half a mile Lieutenant Worden from the pilot-house gave the order to fire. The ball, weighing 170 pounds, rattled against the mailed side of the _Merrimac_. She staggered under the force of the concussion, and at once seemed to realize that in this floating turret she had no mean antagonist. At the range of only a few yards she poured in a terrible broadside. To her disgust, the shots seemed to have glided off and done no harm. Then the two vessels closed and poured a hail of heavy metal upon each other. The _Monitor_ being the quicker, would circle round the _Merrimac_, while the turret, turning with ease, always presented the guns to the foe.

Worden in his pilot-house could speak through tubes to Lieutenant Green, who commanded the gunners in the tower. Once Green trained his guns on the _Merrimac’s_ water-line, and the shot penetrated.

“Splendid, sir! splendid!” roared Worden. “You have made the iron fly.”

But the spectators who lined the ramparts of Fort Monroe could not see what was happening for the clouds of smoke, and they stood, silent and wretched, almost afraid to look.

But at last the veil parted, and they saw the little _Monitor_ lying alongside the _Merrimac_, trim and spiteful, with the Stars and Stripes flying proudly from her stern, and a great cheer arose from every throat. Then they saw the _Merrimac_ bear down upon the little flat cheese, as if to sink her. She struck fair and square, but the iron ram glided up on her low-sheathed deck and simply careened her over; but in so doing the _Merrimac_ showed her unarmed hull below the iron coat of mail, and the _Monitor_ planted one of her shots in a vital place.

For four long hours had this strange duel lasted, the _Merrimac_ firing heavily, the _Monitor_ steaming round and choosing her place and time, with careful aim at rudder, screw, and water-line. At last Buchanan, the Commander of the _Merrimac_, was severely wounded, and as his ship began to take in water through three gaping wounds, the helm was put over and the conqueror of yesterday limped away. But her last shot struck point-blank upon the iron grating of the pilot-house just where Lieutenant Worden was looking out. The concussion threw him down senseless, and minute pieces of iron and powder were driven into his eyes, so that he was blinded. When after a time he recovered his consciousness he asked:

“Have I saved the _Minnesota_?”

“Yes, sir, and whipped the _Merrimac_,” was the reply.

“Then I care not what becomes of me,” murmured the Lieutenant.

The _Merrimac_ slowly made her way to a safe anchorage under the batteries at Sewell’s Point. Here she signalled for help, and tugs came up, took her in tow, and escorted her to Norfolk. Her injuries were so severe that after months of work upon her she never ventured to quit her retreat, whereas the _Monitor_ seemed but slightly damaged. She had been hit twenty-two times, and only showed slight indentations, but a ball striking full on the pilot-house had bent a huge iron beam. The ram of the _Merrimac_ had torn off some of the plating from the side of the _Monitor_. The latter drew only 10 feet of water, and could go where the _Merrimac_ could not venture.

But though the _Merrimac_ had fired her last shot, she gave the North a great fright in the night which followed the battle. At midnight thousands of people along the coast were roused from their sleep by cries that came over the water: “Fire! fire! For God’s sake, save us!”

The shore was soon lined by spectators, who stood unable to get a boat to put out or help in any way. There was the gunboat _Whitehall_ roaring with flames, and the dark figures of the crew were plainly visible on her deck, either wrapped in red fire or jumping into the deep water beneath.

The _Whitehall’s_ shotted guns were going off here and there through the thick crowds or clustering houses, and one shell struck the hospital, making the inmates believe that the _Merrimac_ had returned. It transpired that a red-hot shot had been thrown from the _Merrimac_ during the day and had lodged between the _Whitehall’s_ timbers, where the fire smouldered until late at night.

The general conclusion from this momentous fight between the first ironclads was that “England’s naval supremacy is gone for ever.” But men are more potent than masses of metal. America and England have navies now in comparison with which the _Merrimac_ and _Monitor_ are but tin kettles. Yet we must remember that Russia, too, a few months ago possessed a strong navy as far as metal goes. But once again the Japanese proved to the world that it is in the hearts of brave men, the science of clever men, and the enduring patience of patriotic men, that the issues of victory or defeat are mainly determined.