That is the way it came about that the two iron ships were being built at once, one at Norfolk and one at New York. And there was a race between the builders, for the first one finished would have the best chance. There was a lively rattle of hammers and tongs at both places, and it turned out that they were finished and ready for service only a few days apart.
It was necessary to tell you all this so that you might know how the great fight came to be fought, and how Washington was saved from the iron dragon of the South. Now we are done with our story of ship-building and must go on to the story of battle and ruin.
On the morning of March 8, 1862, the sun came up beautifully over the broad waters of Hampton Roads. The bright sunbeams lit up the sails of a row of stately vessels stretched out for miles over the smiling bay. There were five of these: the steam frigates St. Lawrence, Roanoke, and Minnesota; the sailing frigate Congress; and the sloop-of-war Cumberland. They were all wooden ships, but were some of the best men-of-war in the United States navy.
All was still and quiet that fine morning. There was nothing to show that there was any trouble on board those noble ships. But there was alarm enough, for their captains knew that the Merrimac was finished and might come at any hour. Very likely some of the officers thought that they could soon decide matters for this clumsy iron monster. But I fancy some of them did not sleep well and had bad dreams when they thought of what might happen.
Just at the hour of noon the lookout on the Cumberland saw a long black line of smoke coming from the way of Norfolk. Soon three steamers were seen. One of these did not look like a ship at all, but like a low black box, from which the smoke puffed up in a thick cloud.
But they knew very well what this odd-looking craft was. It was the Merrimac. It had come out for a trial trip. But it was a new kind of trial its men were after: the trial by battle.
Down came the iron-clad ship, with her sloping roof black in the sunlight. Past the Congress she went, both ships firing. But the great guns of the Congress did no more harm than so many pea-shooters; while the shot of the Merrimac went clear through the wooden ships, leaving death in their track.
Then the iron monster headed for the Cumberland. That was a terrible hour for the men on the neat little sloop-of-war. They worked for their lives, loading and firing, and firing as fast as they could, but not a shot went through that grim iron wall.
In a few minutes the Merrimac came gliding up and struck the Cumberland a frightful blow with her iron nose, tearing through the thick oaken timbers and making a great hole in her side. Then she backed off and the water rushed in.
In a minute the good ship began to sink, while the Merrimac poured shot and shell into her wounded ribs.