Can it be possible that this beardless boy fought one of the historic battles of the world? This was the thought of every one as the modest, diffident young Greene was half pushed forward into the circle.
“I cannot add much to the Captain’s story,” he began. “He had cut out the work for us, and we had only to follow his pattern. I kept the Monitor either moving around the circle or around the enemy, and endeavored to place our shots as near her amidships as possible where Captain Worden believed he had already broken through her armor. We knew that she could not sink us, and I thought I would keep right on pounding her as long as she would stand it. There is really nothing new to be added to Captain Worden’s account. We could strike her wherever we chose; weary as they must have been, our men were full of enthusiasm, and I do not think we wasted a shot. Once we ran out of the circle for a moment to adjust a piece of machinery, and I learn that some of our friends feared that we were drawing out of the fight. The Merrimac took the opportunity to start for Norfolk. As soon as our machinery was adjusted we followed her, and got near enough to give her a parting shot. But I was not familiar with the locality; there might be torpedoes planted in the channel, and I did not wish to take any risk of losing our vessel, so I came back to the company of our friends. But except that we were, all of us, tired and hungry when we came back to the Minnesota at half-past 12 P.M., the Monitor was just as well prepared to fight as she was at eight o’clock in the morning when she fired the first gun.”
We were then shown the injury to the pilot-house. The mark of the ball was plain upon the two upper bars, the principal impact being upon the lower of the two. This huge bar was broken in the middle, but held firmly at either end. The farther it was pressed in, the stronger was the resistance on the exterior. On the inside the fracture in the bar was half an inch wide. Captain Worden’s eye was very near to the lookout crack, so that when the gun was discharged the shock of the ball knocked him senseless, while the mass of flame filled one side of his face with coarse grains of powder. He remained insensible for some hours.
“Have you heard what Captain Worden’s first inquiry was when he recovered his senses after the general shock to his system?” asked Captain Fox of the President.
“I think I have,” replied Mr. Lincoln, “but it is worth relating to these gentlemen.”
“His question was,” said Captain Fox, “‘Have I saved the Minnesota?’
“‘Yes, and whipped the Merrimac!’ some one answered.
“‘Then,’ said Captain Worden, ‘I don’t care what becomes of me.’”
“Mr. President,” said Captain Fox, “not much of the history to which we have listened is new to me. I saw this battle from eight o’clock until mid-day. There was one marvel in it which has not been mentioned—the splendid handling of the Monitor throughout the battle. The first bold advance of this diminutive vessel against a giant like the Merrimac was superlatively grand. She seemed inspired by Nelson’s order at Trafalgar: ‘He will make no mistake who lays his vessel alongside the enemy.’ One would have thought the Monitor a living thing. No man was visible. You saw her moving around that circle, delivering her fire invariably at the point of contact, and heard the crash of the missile against her enemy’s armor above the thunder of her guns, on the bank where we stood. It was indescribably grand!
“Now,” he continued, “standing here on the deck of this battle-scarred vessel, the first genuine iron-clad—the victor in the first fight of iron-clads—let me make a confession and perform an act of simple justice. I never fully believed in armored vessels until I saw this battle. I know all the facts which united to give us the Monitor. I withhold no credit from Captain Ericsson, her inventor, but I know that the country is principally indebted for the construction of this vessel to President Lincoln, and for the success of her trial to Captain Worden, her commander.”