The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism (Vol. 1-4). Frederick Whymper
were frigates carrying an aggregate of over 150 guns and nearly 2,000 men. They, however, were wooden vessels; and although, in two cases in particular, defended with persistent heroism, had no chance against the ironclad, hastily as she had been prepared. There is little doubt that the officers of the two former vessels, in particular, knew something of the nature of the “forlorn hope” in which they were about to engage, when she hove in sight on that memorable 8th of March, 1862. It is said that the sailors, however, derided her till she was close upon them—so close that their laughter and remarks were heard on board. “That Southern Bugaboo,” “that old Secesh curiosity,” were among the milder titles applied to her.
THE ORIGINAL “MERRIMAC.”
The engagement was fought in the Hampton Roads, which is virtually an outlet of the James River, Virginia. The latter, like the Thames, has considerable breadth and many shallows near its mouth. The Merrimac left Norfolk Navy-yard (which holds to the James River somewhat the position that Sheerness does to the Thames) hurriedly on the morning of the 8th, and steamed steadily towards the enemy’s fleet, accompanied by some smaller vessels of war and a few tug-boats.
“Meanwhile, the shapeless iron mass
Came moving o’er the wave,
As gloomy as a passing hearse,
As silent as the grave.”
The morning was still and calm as that of a Sabbath-day. That the Merrimac was not expected was evidenced by the boats at the booms, and the sailors’ clothes still hanging in the rigging of the enemy’s vessels. “Did they see the long, dark hull? Had they made it out? Was it ignorance, apathy, or composure that made them so indifferent? or were they provided with torpedoes, which could sink even the Merrimac in a minute?” were questions mooted on the Southern side by those watching on board the boats and from the shore.
As soon, however, as she was plainly discerned, the crews of the Cumberland, Congress, and other vessels were beat to quarters, and preparations made for the fight. “The engagement,” wrote the Confederate Secretary of the Navy, “commenced at half-past three p.m., and at four p.m. Captain Buchanan had sunk the Cumberland, captured and burned the Congress, disabled and driven the Minnesota ashore, and defeated the St. Lawrence and Roanoake, which sought shelter under the guns of Fortress Monroe. Two of the enemy’s small steamers were blown up, and the two transport steamers were captured.” This, as will be seen, must, as regards time, be taken cum grano salis, but in its main points is correct.
The Merrimac commenced the action by discharging a broadside at the Congress, one shell from which killed or disabled a number of men at the guns, and then kept on towards the Cumberland, which she approached with full steam on, striking her on the port side near the bow, her stem knocking two of the ports into one, and her ram striking the vessel under the water-line. Almost instantaneously a large shell was discharged from her forward gun, which raked the gun-deck of the doomed ship, and killed ten men. Five minutes later the ship began to sink by the head, a large hole having been made by the point of the ram, through which the water rushed in. As the Merrimac rounded and rapidly came up again, she once more raked the Cumberland, killing or wounding sixteen more men. Meantime the latter was endeavouring to defend herself, and poured broadside after broadside into the Merrimac; but the balls, as one of the survivors tells us, bounced “upon her mailed sides like india-rubber, apparently making not the least impression except to cut off her flagstaff, and thus bring down the Confederate colours. None of her crew ventured at that time on her outside to replace them, and she fought thenceforward with only her pennant flying.”18 Shortly after this, the Merrimac again attacked the unfortunate ship, advancing with her greatest speed, her ram making another hole below the water-line. The Cumberland began to fill rapidly. The scene on board is hardly to be described in words. It was one of horrible desperation and fruitless heroism. The decks were slippery with human gore; shreds of human flesh, and portions of the body, arms, legs, and headless trunks were scattered everywhere. Below, the cockpit was filled with wounded, whom it would be impossible to succour, for the ship was sinking fast. Meantime the men stuck to their posts, powder was still served out, and the firing kept up steadily, several of the crew lingering so long in the after shell-room, in their eagerness to pass up shell, that they were drowned there. The water had now reached the main gun-deck, and it became evident that the contest was nearly over. Still the men lingered, anxious for one last shot, when their guns were nearly under water.
“Shall we give them a broadside, my boys, as she goes?
Shall we send yet another to tell,
In iron-tongued words, to Columbia’s foes,
How bravely her sons say ‘Farewell?’ ”
The word was passed for each man to save himself. Even then, one man, an active little fellow, named Matthew Tenney, whose courage had been conspicuous during the action, determined to fire once more, the next gun to his own being then under water, the vessel going down by the head. He succeeded, but at the cost of his life, for immediately afterwards, attempting to scramble out of the port-hole, the water suddenly rushed in with such force that he was washed back and drowned. Scores of poor fellows were unable to reach the upper deck, and were carried down with the vessel. The Cumberland sank in water up to the cross-trees, and went down with her flag still flying from the peak.19 The whole number lost was not less than 120 souls. Her top-masts, with the pennant flying far above the water, long marked the locality of one of the bravest and most desperate defences ever made
“By men who knew that all else was wrong
But to die when a sailor ought.”
The Cumberland being utterly demolished, the Merrimac turned her attention to the Congress. The Southerners showed their chivalric instincts at this juncture by not firing on the boats, or on a small steamer, which were engaged in picking up the survivors of the Cumberland’s crew. The officers of the Congress, seeing the fate of the Cumberland, determined that the Merrimac should not, at least, sink their vessel. They therefore got all sail on the ship, and attempted to run ashore. The Merrimac was soon close on them, and delivered a broadside, which was terribly destructive, a shell killing, at one of the guns, every man engaged except one. Backing, and then returning several times, she delivered broadside after broadside at less than 100 yards’ distance. The Congress replied manfully and obstinately, but with little effect. One shot is supposed to have entered one of the ironclad’s port-holes, and dismounted a gun, as there was no further firing from that port, and a few splinters of iron were struck off her sloping mailed roof, but this was all. The guns of the Merrimac appeared to have been specially trained on the after-magazine of the Congress, and shot after shot entered that part of the ship. Thus, slowly drifting down with the current, and again steaming up, the Merrimac continued for an hour to fire into her opponent. Several times the Congress was on fire, but the flames were kept under. At length the ship was on fire in so many places, and the flames gathering with such force, that it was hopeless and suicidal to keep up the defence any longer. The national flag was sadly and sorrowfully hauled down, and a white flag hoisted at the peak. The Merrimac did not for a few minutes see this token of surrender, and continued to fire. At last, however, it was discerned through the clouds of smoke, and the broadsides ceased. A tug that had followed the Merrimac out of Norfolk then came alongside the Congress, and ordered the officers on board. This they refused, hoping that, from the nearness of the shore, they would be able to escape. Some of the men, to the number, it is believed, of about forty, thought the tug was one of the Northern (Federal) vessels, and rushed on board, and were, of course, soon carried off as prisoners. By the time that all the able men were off ashore and elsewhere, it was seven o’clock in the evening, and the Congress was a bright sheet of flame fore and aft, her guns, which were loaded and trained, going off as the fire reached them. A shell from one struck a sloop at some distance, and blew her up. At midnight the fire reached her magazines, containing five tons of gunpowder, and, with a terrific explosion, her charred remains blew up. Thus had the Merrimac sunk one and burned a second of the largest of the vessels of the enemy.
Having settled the fate of these two ships, the Merrimac had, about 5 o’clock in the afternoon, started to tackle