But some sudden panic seizing them, they fled across Chesapeake Bay to Fortress Monroe, leaving vast quantities of cannons and other munitions of war to fall into the hands of their opponents. They sought to consign the navy-yard, together with a number of ships they could not take away, to the flames, but the destruction was far from complete; and the Southern soldiers appeared upon the scene in time to rescue much precious material from the fire—among their spoils being twelve hundred guns, that were afterwards distributed through their fortifications from the Potomac to the Mississippi, where they did sore damage to their former owners.
Among the war-ships burned and sunk at the navy-yard upon its abandonment was the fine frigate Merrimac, of over three thousand tons, and carrying forty guns. On coming into possession of the establishment, the Confederates raised this vessel and rebuilt her, but not on the same plan as before. Instead of being a handsome three-masted ship, with swelling sails, heavy rigging, and black and white checked sides, she became an extraordinary-looking ironclad, the like of which the world had never seen before, and which was destined to effect a complete revolution in the navies of the nations.
Vague rumours concerning this wonderful construction had found their way northward, and it was in response to the call for a strengthening of the blockading fleet in Chesapeake Bay that the Minnesota had been despatched in hot haste from Boston, and was ploughing her way towards Old Point Comfort, that now showed upon the port bow. At Fortress Monroe, which crowned the Point, she would receive her orders; and the thought of what these might be sent a thrill to the heart of every man and boy on board, from the captain down to the youngest powder-monkey.
The sun had already sunk behind the western hills before the frigate reached the Point; and the navigation of Hampton Roads being somewhat difficult, her captain decided to anchor for the night and take on a pilot in the morning. In the meantime, he himself, accompanied by two of his chief officers, went off in a launch to Fortress Monroe, to be informed of the situation and to receive instructions.
As Terry saw the launch shoot away from the vessel's side, there came over him a wild impulse to spring on board her, that he too might be taken ashore. He had already begged the boatswain to let him go, and had been contemptuously rebuffed; but this, instead of quieting him, only intensified his desire to get off the ship before there should be any fighting. He now saw what seemed to him his only chance, and without pausing to consider the folly of his enterprise, darted past the sailors at the gangway-ladder, bounded down the steps, and as the boat swung clear, gathering all his strength into one supreme effort, he sprang out towards her.
For a mere boy it was a grand attempt, but it failed nevertheless. Just as he leaped, the boatswain shouted, "Give way now;" and, driven by twelve brawny oarsmen, the launch shot forward so swiftly that Terry's spring fell short, and he himself vanished in the swirling water!
But only for a moment. Almost before the spectators realized what had happened, his head appeared above the surface, and with skilful strokes he made for the gangway, where a sailor was awaiting him with a grinning face and a helping hand.
"Well, you are a daisy, and no mistake," he exclaimed, in an unmistakable tone of admiration, as he drew the dripping boy up to the platform. "What on earth possessed you to do that?"
Terry gave a despairing glance at the departing boat, now fifty yards away, whose occupants had taken no more notice of his plunge than if it had been the jumping of a pollack, before replying. Then he said with a bitter sigh, as he blew the brine out of his mouth,—
"I wanted to go ashore in her. The bosun wouldn't let me aboard, bad cess to him, so I thought I'd jump for it."