tack. Beside the nineteen poor
fellows that the Cumberland's guns had mowed down, we now had other
killed and wounded. Commodore Buchanan was badly hurt, and the flag
lieutenant, Minor. The hundred guns thundered against the Merrimac, and
the Merrimac thundered against the Congress. The tall frigate and her
fifty guns wished herself an iron-clad; the swan would have blithely
changed with the ugly duckling. We brought down her mainmast, we
disabled her guns, we strewed her decks with blood and anguish (war is a
wild beast, nothing more, and I'll hail the day when it lies slain). We
smashed in her sides and we set her afire. She hauled down her colours
and ran up a white flag. The Merrimac ceased firing and signalled to the
Beaufort. The Beaufort ran alongside, and the frigate's ranking officer
gave up his colours and his sword. The Beaufort's and the Congress's own
boats removed the crew and the wounded.... The shore batteries, the
Minnesota, the picket boat Zouave, kept up a heavy firing all the while
upon the Merrimac, upon the Raleigh and the Jamestown, and also upon the
Beaufort. We waited until the crew was clear of the Congress, and then
we gave her a round of hot shot that presently set her afire from stem
to stern. This done, we turned to other work.

"The Minnesota lay aground in the North Channel. To her aid hurrying up
from Old Point came the Roanoke and the Saint Lawrence. Our own
batteries at Sewell's Point opened upon these two ships as they passed,
and they answered with broadsides. We fed our engines, and under a
billow of black smoke ran down to the Minnesota. Like the Congress, she
lay upon a sand bar, beyond fear of ramming. We could only manoeuvre
for deep water, near enough to her to be deadly. It was now late
afternoon. I could see through the port of the bow pivot the slant
sunlight upon the water, and how the blue of the sky was paling. The
Minnesota lay just ahead; very tall she looked, another of the Congress
breed; the old warships singing their death song. As we came on we fired
the bow gun, then, lying nearer her, began with broadsides. But we could
not get near enough; she was lifted high upon the sand, the tide was
going out, and we drew twenty-three feet. We did her great harm, but we
were not disabling her. An hour passed and the sun drew on to setting.
The Roanoke turned and went back under the guns of Old Point, but the
Saint Lawrence remained to thunder at the turtle's iron shell. The