The United States Navy Department had been informed that the
Confederate authorities had raised the hull of the fine frigate
Merrimac, which had been burned at the Navy Yard at Norfolk, at the
breaking out of the civil war, and had erected a huge iron casemate
upon her.
With her engines in good working order, it was confidently expected by
the Confederates that this novel and formidable craft would be able
to capture or destroy the Union fleet, in Hampton Roads, raise the
blockade at the Capes of Virginia, and proceed to Washington, when the
Capitol would be at the mercy of her powerful battery. This battery
consisted of ten heavy rifled guns.
In those days nothing was known about ironclads, and as week after week
passed, and the monster, so often spoken of by the Norfolk papers,
which was to clear out Hampton Roads, and to brush away the “insolent
frigates” which were blockading the James River at Newport News did not
appear, people began to regard her as a bugbear. At any rate, the Union
frigates were very sure that, if they could once get her under their
broadsides, they would soon send her to the bottom.
About the 1st of March, 1862, a Norfolk newspaper contained a violent
attack upon the Confederate authorities for their bad management in
regard to the Merrimac, or “Virginia,” as they had re-christened her.
The paper declared that her plating was a failure, that her machinery
was defective, and that she very nearly sank when brought out of dock.
This was all a ruse, for she was then making trials of machinery, and
had her officers and crew on board and under drill.
The Navy Department was better informed than those in the immediate
vicinity, and hurried up the means it had created to meet the ironclad.
In Hampton Roads, at that time, were the Minnesota, a fine
steam-frigate, the Roanoke, of the same size, but crippled in
machinery, and several other vessels of much less power, together with
numerous transports, coal-ships, and others.
A few miles above, at Newport News, lay the Congress, a sailing frigate
of 50 guns, and the Cumberland, a heavy sloop of 24 guns. These were
the “insolent frigates” which, during many preceding months, had
entirely prevented the Confederates from using the water communication
between Richmond and Norfolk. The danger in leaving these vessels,
without steam, in such a position, was fully recognized, and they were
to be replaced by others about the middle of March.
On shore, at Newport News, was a camp of about four thousand men; and
the Congress and Cumberland lay just off this camp, in the fair way of
the channel, and about a quarter of a mile apart; the Cumberland being
the furthest up the James river.
On Saturday, the 8th of March, the Merrimac at last appeared,
accompanied by two or three tugs armed with rifled guns, and joined,
eventually, by two armed merchant steamers from up the James. The
Merrimac moved with great deliberation, and was seen from the vessels
at Newport News, coming down the channel from Norfolk, towards
Sewell’s point, at about half-past twelve. She could not then be seen
from Hampton Roads, but when she did at last show herself clear of the
point, there was great commotion there. But she turned up, at a right
angle, and came up the channel toward Newport News. It is said by some
that she came by a channel not generally known, or, at least, not
commonly used.
The tide had just turned ebb, and the time selected was the best for
the iron-clad, and the worst for the vessels at Newport News, for their
sterns were down stream, and they could not be sprung round.
The Merrimac approached these ships with ominous silence and
deliberation. The officers were gathered on the poops of the vessels,
hazarding all sorts of conjectures in regard to the strange craft,
and, when it was plain she was coming to attack them, or to force the
passage, the drum beat to quarters. By about two o’clock the strange
monster was close enough to make out her ports and plating, and the
Congress fired at her from a stern gun. The projectile, a 32-pound
shot, bounced off the casemate as a pebble would.
The ironclad threw open her forward ports, and answered with grape,
killing and wounding quite a number on board the Congress. Then she
steamed up past that frigate, at a distance of less than two hundred
yards, receiving a broadside, and giving one in return. The shot of
the Congress had no effect upon the Merrimac; but the broadside of the
latter, upon the wooden frigate, had created great destruction. One of
her shells dismounted an 8-inch gun, and either killed or wounded every
one of the gun’s crew. The slaughter at other guns was fearful. There
were comparatively few wounded, the shells killing, as a general rule.
After this broadside the Merrimac passed up the stream, and the
Congress’ men, supposing she had had enough of it, began to cheer;
and for many of them it was the last cheer they were ever to give.
The iron-clad went up stream far enough to turn at right angles, and
ran into the Cumberland with her ram. The Cumberland began to fill,
at once, and in a few minutes sank, her flag flying, and having kept
up her fire as long as her gun-deck was above water. Her mizzen-top
remained out of water, but it was deeper under her forward part,
and her fore and main top went under. A small freight boat, of the
quartermaster’s department, and some tugs and row-boats put off from
the wharf at the camp, to save the lives of her crew. These were fired
at by the Rebel gun-boats, and the boiler of the freight boat was
pierced, and the wharf itself damaged, but the greater part of those in
the water were saved.
The Cumberland lost one hundred and seventeen out of three hundred on
board. Buchanan, the Captain of the Merrimac, hailed Morris, the First
Lieutenant of the Cumberland, and temporarily in command, saying,
“Do you surrender?” “No, Sir!” shouted back Morris, whose ship was
then sinking. The last gun was fired by acting Master Randall, now in
the navy, but retired. The ship heeled suddenly as she sank, and the
ladders were either thrown down, or became almost perpendicular, so as
to render it difficult to get on deck. The Chaplain was drowned, on
this account. One of the gunners’ mates got up safely, however, all the
way from the magazine, and swam to the mizzen-top. The marine drummer
boy was pushed and hoisted up by some of the men, holding fast to his
drum, which he saved, and creating laughter, even at that terrible
moment, by the way in which he clung to it.
[Illustration: ENGAGEMENT BETWEEN THE MONITOR AND MERRIMAC, IN HAMPTON
ROADS.]
When the survivors of the Cumberland reached the shore they were
enthusiastically received by the soldiers, and flasks of whisky, plugs
of tobacco, and other soldiers’ and sailors’ luxuries, forced upon
them. Captain Radford, of the Cumberland, now Admiral Radford, was at
Hampton Roads, sitting on a court-martial, when the Merrimac ran out.
He went on shore, got a horse, and rode madly, in hopes of reaching
Newport News in time; but he only got there to see his pendant waving
from the truck, and sweeping the water which had swallowed up so many
of his fine crew.
In ramming the Cumberland the Merrimac had twisted her prow or beak,
but the leak it occasioned was not noticed at once. She then turned
down stream, to renew her attack upon the Congress. The latter ship
had been set on fire by the shell of the first broadside, and one of
the seats of fire was aft, near the after magazine; this was never
extinguished, and was the eventual cause of her destruction.
Seeing the fate of the Cumberland, which sank in deep water, the
Congress slipped her chains, set the top-sails and jib, and with the
help of the tug Zouave, ran on the flat which makes off from Newport
News point. Here she heeled over, as the tide continued to fall,
leaving only two 32-pounders which could be fought, and these were in
the stern ports, on the gun-deck.
The Minnesota and one or two other vessels had started up to the relief
of the Congress and Cumberland, but they got on shore before they had
achieved half the distance. It turned out to be well, for they would
otherwise probably have shared the fate of the Cumberland, in which
case the lives of their crews would have been uselessly jeopardized.
It was about half-past two when the Merrimac came to attack the
Congress once more. She took up a position about one hundred and fifty
yards astern of her, and deliberately raked her with rifled shells,
while the small steamers all concentrated their guns upon the same
devoted ship. A great many were now killed on board the Congress,
including two officers. The ship kept up a fire from her two stern
guns, having the crews swept away from them repeatedly. At last they
were both dismounted. Nearly all the men in the powder division,
below, were killed by this raking fire. This division was in charge of
Paymaster Buchanan, who was a brother of the Captain of the Merrimac.
Those now fared best whose duty kept them on the spar-deck. Even the
wounded in the cockpit were killed, and the shells were momentarily
setting fire to new places, rendering it necessary to drench the
quarters of the wounded with ice-cold water. The commanding officer,
Lieutenant Joseph B. Smith, was killed by a shell at this time.
The Congress had now borne this fire for nearly an hour, and had no
prospect of assistance from any quarter, and was unable to fire a shot
in return.
Under these circumstances there was nothing to do but to haul down
the flag. A small gun-boat came alongside, the commanding officer of
which said he had orders to take the people out, and burn the vessel.
But before many could get on board the steamer she was driven off by
the sharp-shooters of a regiment on shore. They now all opened on
the Congress again, although she had a white flag flying, and could
not be responsible for the actions of the soldiers on shore. After
about fifteen minutes more, however, they all went down to attack the
Minnesota, which ship was hard and fast aground. Fortunately they could
not approach very near her, on account of the state of the tide, and
night now drawing on, the whole flotilla withdrew, and proceeded up
the Norfolk channel.
It was now necessary for the survivors of the Congress to get on shore
as soon as possible, and this was done, by about dark, by means of the
two boats which had the fewest shot-holes in them. These made repeated
trips, taking the wounded first, and the officers last, and the wearied
and exhausted people were hospitably received in the camp.
The poor old ship, deserted by all but the dead, who were left lying
just as they fell, burned till about midnight, when she blew up, with a
report that was heard for many miles.
The next morning was fine, but hazy, but it soon became clear, as if to
afford an uninterrupted view of the first ironclad fight.
The camp was early astir; the regiments drawn up in line of battle,
while the survivors of the two ships’ companies manned the howitzers
and field pieces in the earthworks to the west of the camp. For it was
certain the Merrimac would return that morning, to complete her work,
while information had been received that General Magruder, with a large
force, was marching over from Yorktown, to take the camp in the rear,
and thus, in conjunction with the ironclad, force a surrender.
About six o’clock the Merrimac was seen, through the haze, coming down
again, apparently intending to attack the Minnesota, which ship was
still aground. Her proceedings were watched with breathless interest by
thousands, on all sides of the broad sheet of water, which formed an
amphitheatre, so to speak, on the southern side of which the spectators
were filled with hope and confidence, while to the north well-grounded
apprehension was felt. Passing up the James River channel again, the
Merrimac opened fire upon the Minnesota with her bow guns, hulling her
once or twice, when, suddenly, there darted out from under the shadows
of the huge frigate a little raft-like vessel, almost flush with the
water, and bearing on her deck a round, black turret.
At first no one in the camp seemed to know what it was, or how it came
there, but at last it was conceded that it must be the strange, new
ironclad, which was said to be building in New York, by Ericsson.
It was indeed the “Monitor,” and although too late to prevent a
terrible loss, she was in the nick of time to prevent much more serious
disaster.
And now for a few words about this remarkable vessel, whose exploits
were the cause of a revolution in the building of ships-of-war,
throughout the world.
And first, as to her name. Ericsson proposed to call her Monitor,
because she would prove a warning to the leaders of the Southern
rebellion, as well as to the authorities of other countries who should
be inclined to break our blockade, or otherwise interfere in our
affairs.
Captain Ericsson was a native of Sweden, and in his youth had served
in both the army and navy of that country. Thence he went to England,
to pursue his profession as an engineer, and came out to America,
to superintend the construction of the United States screw steamer
Princeton, in 1839. Here he remained, dying in 1895, far advanced in
years. In 1854 he planned a shot-proof iron-plated vessel, the drawings
for which he forwarded to Louis Napoleon, saying, among other things,
that his invention would place an entire fleet of wooden vessels at its
mercy, in calms and light winds. Louis Napoleon politely declined to
accept his proposition to build such a vessel for the French Navy.
When it became evident that a long and arduous struggle was before
us, at the opening of the Civil War, certain gentlemen entered into
a contract to build such a vessel for our Government, on Ericsson’s
plans, and under his superintendence. The ironclad was contracted for
in October, 1861, to be ready in the shortest possible space of time.
The contract price paid for her hull was seven and a half cents a
pound, and Ericsson and his backers were to forfeit payment for the
whole, unless she was found to work in a satisfactory manner.
His plans were only partly drawn, and it is said that he frequently
made his drawings, to overcome difficulties, the same day they were to
be worked from.
The hull was built by Rowland, at Green Point, Long Island; the turret
at the Novelty Works, New York; the machinery and mechanism of the
turret at Delamater’s, in New York; while the massive port-stoppers,
which swung down by machinery, as the guns fired and the turret
revolved, were forged in Buffalo.
Wonderful to relate, this entirely novel structure was finished in one
hundred days from the time the plates for her keel were laid. She was
launched on the 30th of January, 1862, having large wooden tanks under
her stern, to prevent her from running under water, as she went off the
ways.
She was delivered to the naval authorities, at the New York Navy-yard,
on the 19th of February, following. After two trial trips it was
found to be necessary to hurry this novel and almost untried piece of
complicated machinery down to Hampton Roads, to meet the formidable
ironclad whose doings we have just been relating.
The officers and crew were in circumstances entirely new to them.
“Calmly and terribly heroic,” says Dorr, “was the act of manning this
coffin-like ship,” in which the crew was, as it were, hermetically
sealed.
Lieutenant John L. Worden, of the Navy, having been ordered to the
command, proceeded to select a crew from the receiving ships North
Carolina and Sabine. He stated fairly to the men the difficulties
and dangers which they might expect to encounter, and yet many more
volunteered to go than were required. The officers were ordered in
the usual way, except the First Lieutenant, S. D. Greene, who was a
volunteer. Chief Engineer Stimers, of the navy, who had been employed
as an inspector of some of the work, and who was interested in the
performance of the vessel, went down in her as a passenger, and took
part, as a volunteer, in her first action.
The Monitor’s orders to Hampton Roads were issued on the 20th of
February, but necessary work detained her; and on March 4th Admiral
Paulding, the Commandant at New York, directed Worden to proceed the
moment the weather would permit; and informed him that a tug would be
sent to tow him, and two small steamers would attend.
On the afternoon of March 6th the Monitor left Sandy Hook, with a
moderate westerly wind, and a smooth sea. The “Seth Low” was hired to
tug her, and the Currituck and Sachem formed the escort. At midday of
the 7th she was off the Capes of the Delaware, with a strong breeze
and a rough sea. Water came freely in at the hawse-pipes, around the
base of the turret, and in other places. At 4 P. M., the wind still
increasing, the water broke over the smoke and blower pipes, which were
six and four feet high, respectively. This wet the blower bands, which
slipped and broke. A failure in the machinery to supply air must soon
be fatal, in such a craft, to all on board. The blowers being stopped
there was no draft for the furnaces, and the fire and engine rooms soon
filled with gas.
The engineer in charge, Isaac Newton, U. S. N., met the emergency
promptly, but his department was soon prostrated by inhaling the gas,
and they had to be taken up into the turret, to be revived.
The water was coming in rapidly, and the hand-pumps could not discharge
it fast enough. Matters looked very gloomy, and the tug was hailed,
and directed to head for the land. This she did at once, but made slow
progress against wind and sea; but by evening she had got the Monitor
into much smoother water; repairs were made, the gas had escaped,
and at 8 o’clock she was on her course again. At midnight fears of
disaster were again aroused by very rough water, in passing over the
Chincoteague Shoals; and, to add to their troubles, the wheel-ropes
jammed, and the vessel yawed so that the towing hawser was in danger of
parting.
These difficulties were in turn overcome by the stout hearts and
skillful hands on board; and at four in the afternoon of the 8th
of March she passed Cape Henry. Heavy firing was now heard to the
westward, which Worden at once conjectured to be the Merrimac fighting
the vessels in the Roads. He at once prepared the Monitor for action,
and keyed up the turret. A pilot boat which came out to meet them soon
put them in possession of the news, and of the damage done to the ships
at Newport News, as well as the position of the Minnesota. Reporting to
the senior officer in Hampton Roads, Worden’s first care was to find a
pilot for that place. None being found, acting Master Howard, who had a
knowledge of the locality, volunteered to act as pilot.
The Monitor then went up, and anchored near the Minnesota, at one
o’clock on Sunday morning. Worden went to see Captain Van Brunt, and
informed himself, as well as he could, of the state of affairs, and
then returned to the Monitor, after assuring the Captain that he would
develop all the qualities of that vessel, both for offence and defence.
We now return to the moment when the Merrimac came down again, and
the Monitor went out to meet her, Worden’s object being to draw her
away from the Minnesota. The contrast between the opposing ironclads
was most striking, the Monitor seeming a veritable pigmy by the side
of the Merrimac. The two vessels met on parallel courses, with their
bows looking in opposite directions. They then exchanged fire. Worden
and the engineers had been very anxious about the effect of heavy
shot striking the turret, and causing it to jam. The heavy shot of
the Merrimac, _did_ strike the turret, and, to their great relief,
it continued to revolve without difficulty. Thus one great source of
anxiety was removed. Moreover, it was plainly to be seen that the
11-inch solid shot of the Monitor made a very considerable impression
upon the Merrimac’s plating. The Monitor, though slow, steered well,
and was much more agile than her long and heavy opponent, and she now
ran across the Merrimac’s stem, close to her, in the hopes of damaging
her propeller or rudder, but in this she did not succeed.
After passing up on her port side, she crossed the Merrimac’s bow, to
get between her and the Minnesota again. The Merrimac put on steam,
and made for the Monitor, to ram her. Finding that she would strike
her, Worden put his helm hard-a-port, and gave his vessel a sheer,
so that the blow glanced off from the quarter. The Monitor was now
obliged to haul off for a few minutes, to do some repair or other,
and the Merrimac turned her attention to the Minnesota, hulling her,
and exploding the boiler of a steam-tug lying alongside of her. The
Minnesota’s battery was brought to bear, and her 8-inch shot must have
hit the Merrimac more than fifty times, but glanced from her sloping
roof without inflicting damage.
The gallant little Monitor now came up again, and interposed between
the two. Her shot soon caused the Merrimac to shift her position,
and in doing so she grounded for a few minutes, but was soon afloat
again. The fight had now lasted for a long time, and just before
noon, when within ten yards of the Merrimac, one of her shells struck
the pilot-house, just over the lookout hole or slit. Worden had just
withdrawn his face, which had been pressed against it. If he had been
touching it he would probably have been killed. As it was, he was
stunned, and blinded by the explosion, and bears the indelible marks of
powder blast in his face to this day.
The concussion partly lifted the top of the pilot-house, and the helm
was put a starboard, and the Monitor sheered off. Greene was sent for,
from the turret, to take the command, but just at that time it became
evident that the Merrimac had had enough of it; and, after a few more
shots on each side she withdrew, and slowly and sullenly went up to an
anchorage above Craney Island. Greene did not follow her very far, and
was considered to have acted with good judgment; it not being necessary
to enter into the reasons for his action here. He returned, and
anchored near the Minnesota, where he remained until that vessel was
extricated from her unpleasant predicament, on the following night.
It is probable that the Monitor would, in firing at such close
quarters, have completely broken up the Merrimac’s armor plates, if a
knowledge had existed of the endurance of the Dahlgren gun. The fear
of bursting the 11-inch guns, in the small turret, caused the use of
the service charge of fifteen pounds of powder. After that time thirty
pounds were often used. Then we must remember that the crew had only
been exercised at the guns a few times, and that the gun and turret
gear were rusty, from having been kept wet during her late passage from
New York.
The Monitor was 124 feet long, and 34 feet wide in the hull. The armor
raft was 174 feet long, and 41 feet wide. Her stern overhung 34 feet,
and her bow 15 feet. Her side armor was of five one-inch plates,
backed by twenty-seven inches of oak. Her deck armor consisted of two
half-inch plates, over seven inches of plank. The turret was twenty
feet in inside diameter, covered with eight one-inch plates, and was
nine feet high. The top of the turret was of railroad bars, with holes
for ventilation. The pilot-house was built of bars eight inches square,
and built up log-house fashion, with the corners notched. She was very
primitive in all her arrangements, compared with the monitors Ericsson
afterwards produced.
She carried two 11-inch guns, which threw spherical cast-iron shot,
weighing 168 pounds. The charge of powder has been mentioned.
In this engagement she was struck twenty-one times; eight times on the
side armor; twice on the pilot-house; seven times on the turret, and
four times on deck.
The Merrimac carried ten heavy guns; sixty-eight-pounders, rifled. One
of these was broken by a shot from the Cumberland, which shot entered
her casemate, and killed seven men. Captain Buchanan was wounded on
the first day, by a musket-ball, it is said; and the Merrimac was
commanded, in her fight with the Monitor, by Lieutenant Catesby Jones,
formerly of the United States Navy, as were, indeed, all her other
officers. On the second day the Monitor injured many of her plates,
and crushed in some of her casemate timbers.
From the day she retired before the Monitor to the 11th of May, when
she was blown up by her own people, the formidable Merrimac never did
anything more of note. There was, indeed, a plan concocted to capture
the Monitor, as she lay on guard, in the Roads, by engaging her with
the Merrimac, while men from two small steamers boarded her, and wedged
her turret. Then the crew were to be driven out, by throwing balls of
stinking combustibles below, by her ventilators. But nothing came of it.
The end of the Monitor must be told. After doing good service up the
James River, during the eventful summer of 1862, she was sent down to
Beaufort, South Carolina. On the night of the 30th of December, when
off Hatteras, she suddenly foundered. About half of her officers and
crew went down in her; the rest making their escape to her escort.
The cause of her sinking was never known; but it was conjectured that
the oak timbers which were fitted on the top rim of her iron hull had
shrunk under the hot summer sun of the James River, and when she once
more got into a rough sea, admitted the water in torrents.
Before we quit the subject of the Merrimac and Monitor, it may be of
interest to mention that just about the time the Merrimac retired from
the contest the head of Magruder’s column appeared on the river bank.
But the camp at Newport News was too strong and well entrenched to be
attacked without aid from the water. Magruder was just a day too late,
and had to march back again. His troops were the same which, a few
weeks later, were opposed to McClellan, in the earthworks at Yorktown.