Stories of Our Naval Heroes Part 21

Something had to be done, and right away, too. It would not do to wait for a monster like the _Merrimac_. So Captain John Ericsson, a famous engineer of New York, was ordered to build an iron s.h.i.+p-of-war as fast as he could. And he started to do so after a queer notion of his own.

That is the way it came about that the two iron s.h.i.+ps were being built at once, one at Norfolk and one at New York. And there was a race between the builders, for the first one finished would have the best chance. There was a lively rattle of hammers and tongs at both places, and it turned out that they were finished and ready for service only a few days apart.

It was necessary to tell you all this so that you might know how the great fight came to be fought, and how Was.h.i.+ngton was saved from the iron dragon of the South. Now we are done with our story of s.h.i.+p-building and must go on to the story of battle and ruin.

On the morning of March 8, 1862, the sun came up beautifully over the broad waters of Hampton Roads. The bright sunbeams lit up the sails of a row of stately vessels stretched out for miles over the smiling bay.

There were five of these: the steam frigates _St. Lawrence_, _Roanoke_, and _Minnesota_; the sailing frigate _Congress_; and the sloop-of-war _c.u.mberland_. They were all wooden s.h.i.+ps, but were some of the best men-of-war in the United States navy.

All was still and quiet that fine morning. There was nothing to show that there was any trouble on board those n.o.ble s.h.i.+ps. But there was alarm enough, for their captains knew that the _Merrimac_ was finished and might come at any hour. Very likely some of the officers thought that they could soon decide matters for this clumsy iron monster. But I fancy some of them did not sleep well and had bad dreams when they thought of what might happen.

Just at the hour of noon the lookout on the _c.u.mberland_ saw a long black line of smoke coming from the way of Norfolk. Soon three steamers were seen. One of these did not look like a s.h.i.+p at all, but like a low black box, from which the smoke puffed up in a thick cloud.

But they knew very well what this odd-looking craft was. It was the _Merrimac_. It had come out for a trial trip. But it was a new kind of trial its men were after: the trial by battle.

Down came the iron-clad s.h.i.+p, with her sloping roof black in the sunlight. Past the _Congress_ she went, both s.h.i.+ps firing. But the great guns of the _Congress_ did no more harm than so many pea-shooters; while the shot of the _Merrimac_ went clear through the wooden s.h.i.+ps, leaving death in their track.

Then the iron monster headed for the _c.u.mberland_. That was a terrible hour for the men on the neat little sloop-of-war. They worked for their lives, loading and firing, and firing as fast as they could, but not a shot went through that grim iron wall.

In a few minutes the _Merrimac_ came gliding up and struck the _c.u.mberland_ a frightful blow with her iron nose, tearing through the thick oaken timbers and making a great hole in her side. Then she backed off and the water rushed in.

In a minute the good s.h.i.+p began to sink, while the _Merrimac_ poured shot and sh.e.l.l into her wounded ribs.

"Do you surrender?" asked one of the officers of the _Merrimac_.

"Never!" said Lieutenant Morris, who commanded the _c.u.mberland_. "I'll sink alongside before I pull down that flag."

He was a true Yankee seaman; one of the "no surrender" kind.

Down, inch by inch, settled the doomed s.h.i.+p. But her men stuck grimly to their guns, and fired their last shot just as she sank out of sight.

Then all who had not saved themselves in the boats leaped overboard and swam ash.o.r.e, but a great many of the dead and wounded went down with the s.h.i.+p.

She sank like a true Yankee hero, with her flag flying, and when she struck bottom, with only the tops of her masts above water, "Old Glory"

still fluttered proudly in the breeze.

That was the way it went when iron first met wood in naval warfare. The victor now turned to the _Congress_ and another fierce battle began. But the wooden s.h.i.+p had no chance. For an hour her men fought bravely, but her great guns were of no use, and a white flag was raised. She had surrendered, but the Confederates could not take possession, for there were batteries on sh.o.r.e that drove them off. So they fired hot shot into the _Congress_ and soon she was in a blaze.

It was now five o'clock in the afternoon, and the _Merrimac_ steamed away with the Confederate flag flying in triumph. She had finished her work for that day. It was a famous trial trip. She would come back the next and sink the vessels still afloat--if nothing hindered.

For hours that night the _Congress_ blazed like a mighty torch, the flames lighting up the water and land for miles around. It was after midnight when the fire reached her magazine and she blew up with a terrific noise, scattering her timbers far and near. The men on the _Merrimac_ looked proudly at the burning s.h.i.+p. It was a great triumph for them. But they saw one thing by her light they did not like so well.

Off towards Fortress Monroe there lay in the water a strange-looking thing, which had not been there an hour before. What queer low s.h.i.+p was that? And where had it come from?

The sun rose on the morning of Sunday, March 9, and an hour later the _Merrimac_ was again under way to finish her work. Not far from where the _Congress_ had burnt lay the _Minnesota_. She had run aground and looked like an easy prey. But close beside her was the floating thing they had observed the night before, the queerest-looking craft that had ever been seen.

Everybody opened their eyes wide and stared as at a show when they saw this strange object. They called it "a cheese box on a raft," and that was a good name for its queer appearance. For the deck was nearly on a level with the water, and over its centre rose something like a round iron box. But it had two great guns sticking out of its tough sides.

It was the _Monitor_, the new vessel which Captain Ericsson had built and sent down to fight the _Merrimac_. But none who saw this little low thing thought it could stand long before the great Confederate iron-clad. It looked a little like a slim tiger or leopard before a great rhinoceros or elephant. The men on the _Merrimac_ did not seem to think it worth minding, for they came steaming up and began firing at the _Minnesota_ when they were a mile away.

Then away from the side of the great frigate glided the little _Monitor_, heading straight for her clumsy antagonist. She looked like no more than a mouthful for the big s.h.i.+p, and men gazed at her with dread. She seemed to be going straight to destruction.

But the brave fellows on the _Monitor_ had no such thoughts as that.

"Let her have it," said Captain Worden, when they came near; and one of the great eleven-inch guns boomed like a volcano. The huge iron ball, weighing about 175 pounds, struck the plates of the _Merrimac_ with a thundering crash, splitting and splintering them before it bounded off.

The broadside of the _Merrimac_ boomed back, but the b.a.l.l.s glanced away from the thick round sides of the turret and did not harm.

Then the turret was whirled round like a top, and the gun on the other side came round and was fired. Again the _Merrimac_ fired back, and the great battle was on.

For two hours the iron s.h.i.+ps fought like two mighty wrestlers of the seas. Smoke filled the turret so that the men of the _Monitor_ did not know how to aim their guns. The _Merrimac_ could fire three times to her one, but not a ball took effect. It was like a battle in a cloud.

"Why are you not firing?" asked Lieutenant Jones of a gun captain.

"Why, powder is getting scarce," he replied, "and I find I can do that whiffet as much harm by snapping my finger and thumb every three minutes."

Then Lieutenant Jones tried to sink the _Monitor_. Five times the great iron monster came rus.h.i.+ng up upon the little Yankee craft, but each time it glided easily away. But when the _Merrimac_ came up the sixth time Captain Worden did not try to escape. The _Monitor_ waited for the blow.

Up rushed the _Merrimac_ at full speed and struck her a fierce blow.

But the iron armor did not give way, and the great s.h.i.+p rode up on the little one's deck till she was lifted several feet.

The little _Monitor_ sank down under the _Merrimac_ till the water washed across her deck; then she slid lightly out and rose up all right again, while the _Merrimac_ started a leak in its own bow. At the same moment one of the _Monitor's_ great guns was fired and the ball struck the _Merrimac_, breaking the iron plates and bulging in the thick wood backing.

Thus for hour after hour the fight went on. For six hours the iron s.h.i.+ps struggled and fought, but neither s.h.i.+p was much the worse, while n.o.body was badly hurt.

The end of the fight came in this way: There was a little pilot-house on the deck of the _Monitor_, with a slot in its side from which Captain Worden watched what was going on, so that he could give orders to his men. Up against this there came a sh.e.l.l that filled the face and eyes of the captain with grains of powder and splinters of iron, and flung him down blind and helpless. Blood poured from every pore of his face.

The same shot knocked an iron plate from the top of the pilot-house and let in the daylight in a flood. When the light came pouring in Captain Worden, with his blinded eyes, thought something very serious had happened, and gave orders for the _Monitor_ to draw off to see what damage was done.

Before she came back the _Merrimac_ was far away. She was leaking badly and her officers thought it about time to steam away for home.

That was the end of the great battle. Neither side had won the victory, but it was a famous fight for all that. For it was the first battle of iron-clad s.h.i.+ps in the history of the world. Since then no great wars.h.i.+p has been built without iron sides. Only small vessels are now made all of wood.

That was the first and last battle of the _Monitor_ and the _Merrimac_.

For a long time they watched each other like two bull-dogs ready for a fight. But neither came to blows. Then, two months after the great battle, the _Merrimac_ was set on fire and blown up. The Union forces were getting near Norfolk and her officers were afraid she would be taken, so they did what the Union officers had done before.

The _Monitor_ had done her work well, but her time also soon came. Ten months after the great battle she was sent out to sea, and there she went to the bottom in a gale. Such was the fate of the pioneer iron-clads. But they had fought a mighty fight, and had taught the nations of the world a lesson they would not soon forget.

In that grim deed between the first two iron-clad s.h.i.+ps a revolution took place in naval war. The great frigates, with their long rows of guns, were soon to be of little more use than floating logs. More than forty years have pa.s.sed since then, and now all the great war-vessels are clad in armor of the hardest steel.

CHAPTER XXIII

COMMODORE FARRAGUT WINS RENOWN

THE HERO OF MOBILE BAY LASHES HIMSELF TO THE MAST

AN old friend of ours is David G. Farragut. We met him, you may remember, years ago, on the old _Ess.e.x_, under Captain Porter, when he was a boy of only about ten years of age. Young as he was, he did good work on that fine s.h.i.+p during her cruise in the Pacific and her last great fight.

When the Civil War began Farragut had got to be quite an old boy. He was sixty years of age and a captain in the navy. He had been born in the South and now lived in Virginia, and the Confederates very much wanted him to fight on their side.