By this time night had fallen mild and calm. The moon in her second quarter was just rising over the rippling waters, but her silvery light for those on board the Minnesota paled in the presence of the brilliant illumination proceeding from the burning frigate Congress. As the flames crept up the rigging, every mast, spar, and rope flashed out in fiery silhouette against the dark sky beyond. The hull, aground upon the shoal, was plainly visible, each porthole showing in the black sides like the mouth of a fiery furnace, while from time to time the boom of a loaded gun, or the crash of an exploded shell, gave startling emphasis to the superb spectacle.
Having no duty to perform, the captain and Terry could give themselves up to watching the destruction of the noble vessel, and they stayed at the bow until presently a monstrous sheaf of flame rose from her to an immense height. The sky seemed rent in twain by a blinding flash, and then came a loud, deafening report that told the whole story. The flames had reached the powder-magazine, and their work was complete.
In the silence that followed, Captain Afleck, taking Terry's hand, said with a profound sigh, "Come, Terry, let us get to sleep. It breaks my heart to see a fine ship blown to bits like that."
They went below, and finding a quiet corner, threw themselves down to get what rest they could before facing the dangers of another day.
On going on deck the next morning, Terry's attention was at once attracted by the sailors bending over the bulwarks of the ship, evidently much interested in something that lay alongside. Following their example, he saw below an extraordinary-looking craft, which might not inaptly have been compared to a huge tin can set on a gigantic shingle.
It was none other than the famous Monitor, an even more remarkable vessel than the Merrimac, which had come post-haste from New York, and arrived just in time to do battle with the hitherto irresistible rebel ram.
Little as Terry pretended to know about war-ships, he felt quite competent not merely to wonder but to laugh at this latest addition to the Federal fleet; she seemed so absurdly inadequate to cope with the big powerful Merrimac. A flat iron-plated raft with pointed ends, bearing in the middle a round turret not ten feet high, also plated with iron, and at the bow a small square iron hut for use as a pilot-house; while from the round port-holes in the turret projected the muzzles of two eleven-inch rifled guns, which constituted her entire armament. Such was the Monitor.
He was still engaged in studying this queer-looking craft, and feeling sorely tempted to ask some questions of the men who were busy about her decks getting her ready for action, when the crash of a heavy ball against the other side of the Minnesota told him that the Merrimac had already come over from Sewell's Point to complete her unfinished work.
It was also the signal for the Monitor to move out from her hiding-place behind the lofty frigate. Like some strange sea-monster, she swung round the other's stern, and steaming forward so as to come between her and her assailant, dauntlessly challenged the latter to single combat.
Then there took place right before Terry's eyes a naval conflict without parallel in the history of the world, in every respect the most momentous battle ever waged upon the water. Of course, Terry did not realize this, but that did not in any wise lessen the breathless interest with which he watched every move and manoeuvre of the struggle.