hief among them the _Congress_ and the _Cumberland_, tall
and stately, with every line and spar clearly defined against the blue
March sky, their decks and ports bristling with guns, while the rigging
of the _Cumberland_ was gay with the red, white, and blue of sailors'
garments hung out to dry.

As we rounded into view the white-winged sailing craft that sprinkled
the bay and long lines of tugs and small boats scurried to the far
shore like chickens on the approach of a hovering hawk. They had seen
our black hulk which looked like the roof of a barn afloat. Suddenly
huge volumes of smoke began to pour from the funnels of the frigates
_Minnesota_ and _Roanoke_ at Old Point. They had seen us, too, and were
getting up steam. Bright-colored signal flags were run up and down the
masts of all the ships of the Federal fleet. The _Congress_ shook out
her topsails. Down came the clothes-line on the _Cumberland_, and boats
were lowered and dropped astern.

Our crew was summoned to the gun-deck, and Buchanan addressed us:
"Sailors, in a few minutes you will have the long-looked-for opportunity
of showing your devotion to our cause. Remember that you are about to
strike for your country and your homes. The Confederacy expects every
man to do his duty. Beat to quarters." Every terse, burning word is
engraved on my memory, though fifty years have passed since they were
spoken.

Just as he had finished, the mess caterer touched my elbow and
whispered: "Better get your lunch now, Mr. Ramsay. It will be your last
chance. The galley-fires must be put out when the magazines are opened."

On my way I saw Assistant-Surgeon Garnett at a table laying out lint and
surgical implements. I had no appetite, and merely tasted some cold
tongue and a cup of coffee. Passing along the gun-deck, I saw the pale
and determined countenances of the guns' crews, as they stood
motionless at their posts, with set lips unsmiling, contrasting with the
careless expression of sailors when practised at "fighting quarters" on
a man-of-war. This was the real thing.

As we approached the Federal ships we were met by a veritable storm of
shells which must have sunk any ship then afloat--except the _Merrimac_.
They struck our sloping sides, were deflected upward to burst harmlessly
in the air, or rolled down and fell hissing into the water, dashing the
spray up into our ports.

As we drew nearer the _Cumberland_, above the roar of battle rang the
voice of Buchan