In view of it all, and our Cuban War still on, all now happily over as I write, I thought that my dear friend's recollections would be of interest, as that of an eye-witness of that great first battle between armored ships.
Here is what he says:
"One of my earliest recollections is of the United States frigate, Merrimac, which anchored off Norfolk in 1855 before making her first voyage. Like most small boys, I was deeply interested in anything that would float, and when one of the officers took me on board and showed me everything to be seen, explaining, so far as was possible to make a child understand, the workings of a warship, I was perfectly happy. I asked many questions, and ever afterward I felt a peculiar interest—almost a sense of ownership—in that vessel.
"At the beginning of the war the Merrimac was again in Hampton Roads, undergoing repairs at the navy yard, just across the river from Norfolk. One Saturday night early in April, 1861, Norfolk was abandoned by the Federal forces. The next day the dry dock was blown up, the navy yard, all the smaller crafts, the Pennsylvania, perhaps the largest vessel in the service—too large, in fact, to be seaworthy, but which had been for years used as a training-ship at the port—and the Merrimac were set on fire.
"I can never forget the scene on that Sunday morning. Words cannot describe the excitement of the people. The harbor was dotted with burning vessels; the ear was startled by repeated explosions, and the whole scene was backed by a mass of roaring flame devouring shops, storehouses, and sheds about the navy yard.
"The fires were brightly burning when, with hundreds, I found myself on the ground, which was still hot, picking out nails from the touch-holes of the heavy guns hastily abandoned. Some were properly spiked, nails had been simply dropped into others, and many had not received even this attention. But the thing that interested me more than all else was the flames still licking the black sides of the huge Pennsylvania, and the graceful form of 'my ship,' the Merrimac, now burning to the water's edge.
"The Confederate Government was quick to take advantage of the situation. The navy yard was rebuilt, and the dry dock repaired. The plan of rebuilding the Merrimac was proposed, but was found impracticable on account of the expense, although her hull was almost uninjured. Lieutenant John Mercer Brooks and Joseph L. Porter then presented a plan for converting her into a floating battery, which was accepted. A high fence was built around the dock and the work began. Great secrecy was maintained, but I was able to gain admission two or three times, and to look with wondering eyes on the strange structure. The hull was cut down to the water-line, a low deck was built out at the bow and stern, heavy oak timbers were set up like the rafters of a house inclined at an angle of about 45 degrees, and these were covered with several thicknesses of railroad iron, which extended into the water. When finished, the vessel looked like a long, black roof with the top cut off so as to be flat. Around this ran a light iron rail, a wide funnel rose about the middle, and a low pyramidal structure pierced with small sight-holes served to protect the pilot. As I recall her, she carried two guns forward and three aft on each side, and one or two at both bow and stern. She had no mast, except a short one at the stern for the flag. The bow was pointed without curving, and an oak ram, protected by a heavy iron shoe, extended forward under water. Her name was changed to the Virginia, but every one spoke of her still as the Merrimac. One day it was announced that she was ready to go out, and the next that she was a failure. For weeks reports of the most conflicting character were in circulation, and no one could find out anything definite.
"The report of her failure had, however, generally been credited, when on Saturday morning, March 8, 1862, the news came that she was going out. It spread like wildfire, and soon every one in the city was wrought up to the highest pitch of excitement. Slowly she steamed down the river, looking like a floating shed, and with her went the Jamestown, the Patrick Henry, and several other vessels that made up the Confederate fleet. The town was wild; whistles blew, bells rang, guns were fired, people shouted, the air was full of flags and hats and cries. Every one who could do so hastened toward Sewell's Point to see the expected battle. Vehicles of every description were pressed into service, and those who could not ride set out to walk through the sand.
"The Congress and the Cumberland rode at anchor a few hundred yards from shore, and not far away the Minnesota and the Roanoke. These vessels were a part of the United States blockading fleet. As the Merrimac drew near, we on the shore could see the preparations making on the wooden ships to receive their strange foe. The guns of the Congress roared out, and those of the Cumberland joined in the chorus, but although fired at short range, their shot fell harmless from the iron sides of the Merrimac. The flash of cannon, and the exploding shells, were clearly seen when the smoke would lift.
"As if in disdain of the puny weapons turned against her, the ironclad went slowly on till she seemed to bury herself in the side of the Cumberland. She had rammed the big ship. The guns roared again and again, but without effect, and lurching forward, the Cumberland sank in fifty feet of water, her masthead, from which floated the flag, remaining visible above the waves.