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R. E. Colston, Brigadier-General, C. S. A.
In March, 1862, I was in command of a Confederate brigade and of a district on the south side of the
James River, embracing all the river forts and batteries down to the mouth of
Nansemond River.
My pickets were posted all along the shore opposite Newport News.
From my headquarters at
Smithfield I was in constant and rapid communication through relays of couriers and signal stations with my department commander,
Major-General Huger1 stationed at
Norfolk.
1
About 1 P. M. on the 8th of March, a courier dashed up to my headquarters with this brief dispatch: “The
Virginia is coming up the river.”
Mounting at once, it took me but a very short time to gallop twelve miles down to
Ragged Island.
I had hardly dismounted at the water's edge when I descried the
Merrimac approaching.
The
Congress.
was moored about a hundred yards below the land batteries, and the
Cumberland a little above them.
As soon as the
Merrimac came within range, the batteries and war-vessels opened fire.
She passed on up, exchanging broadsides with the
Congress, and making straight for the
Cumberland, at which she made a dash, firing her bow-guns as she struck the doomed vessel with her prow.
I could hardly believe my senses when I saw the masts of the
Cumberland begin to sway wildly.
After one or two lurches, her hull disappeared beneath the water, guns firing to the last moment.
Most of her brave crew went down with their ship, but not with their colors, for the Union flag still floated defiantly from the masts, which projected obliquely for about half their length above the water after the vessel had settled unevenly upon the river-bottom.
This first act of the drama was over in about thirty minutes, but it seemed to me only a moment.
The commander of the
Congress recognized at once the impossibility of resisting the assault of the ram which had just sunk the
Cumberland.
With commendable promptness and presence of mind, he slipped his cables, and ran her aground upon
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the shallows, where the
Merrimac, at that time drawing twenty-three feet of water, was unable to approach her, and could attack her with artillery alone.
But, although the
Congress had more guns than the
Merrimac, and was also supported by the land batteries, it was an unequal conflict, for the projectiles hurled at the
Merrimac glanced harmlessly from her iron-covered roof, while, her rifled guns raked the
Congress from end to end.
A curious incident must be noted here.
Great numbers of people from the neighborhood of
Ragged Island, as well as soldiers from the nearest posts, had rushed to the shore to behold the spectacle.
The cannonade was visibly raging with redoubled intensity; but, to our amazement, not a sound was heard by us from the commencement of the battle.
A strong March wind was blowing direct from us toward Newport News.
We could see every flash of the guns and the clouds of white smoke, but not a single report was audible.
The
Merrimac, taking no notice of the land batteries, concentrated her fire upon the ill-fated
Congress.
The latter replied gallantly until her commander,
Joseph B. Smith, was killed and her decks were reeking with slaughter.
Then her colors were hauled down and white flags appeared at the gaff and mainmast.
Meanwhile, the
James River gun-boat flotilla had joined the
Merrimac.
Through my field-glass I could see the crew of the
Congress making their escape to the shore over the bow. Unable to secure her prize, the
Merrimac set her on fire with hot shot, and turned to face new adversaries just appearing upon the scene of conflict.
As soon as it was known at
Fort Monroe that the
Merrimac had come out, the frigates
Minnesota,
Roanoke, and
St. Lawrence were ordered to the assistance of the blockading squadron.
The
Minnesota, assisted by two tugs, was the first to reach the scene, but the
Cumberland and the
Congress were already past help.
As soon as she came within range, a rapid cannonade commenced between her and the
Merrimac, aided by the
Patrick Henry and the
Jamestown, side-wheel river steamers transformed into gun-boats.
The
Minnesota, drawing nearly as much water as the
Merrimac, grounded upon a shoal in the
North Channel.
This at once put an end to any further attacks by ramming; but the lofty frigate, towering above the water, now offered an easy target to the rifled guns of the
Merrimac and the lighter artillery of the gunboats.
A shot from her exploded the
Patrick Henry's boiler, causing much loss of life and disabling that vessel for a considerable time.
In the meantime the
Roanoke and
St. Lawrence were approaching, aided by steam-tugs.
As they passed
Sewell's Point, its batteries opened fire upon them, and they replied with broadsides.
Just at that moment the scene was one of unsurpassed magnificence.
The bright afternoon sun shone upon the glancing waters.
The fortifications of Newport News were seen swarming with soldiers, now idle spectators of a conflict far beyond the range of their batteries, and the flames were just bursting from the abandoned
Congress.
The stranded
Minnesota seemed a huge monster at bay, surrounded by the
Merrimac and the gun-boats.
The entire horizon was lighted up by the continual flashes of the artillery of these combatants, the broadsides of the
Roanoke and
St. Lawrence and the
Sewell's Point batteries; clouds of white smoke rose in spiral columns to the skies, illumined by the evening sunlight, while land and water seemed to tremble under the thunders of the cannonade.
The
Minnesota was now in a desperate situation.
It is true that, being aground, she could not sink, but, looking through the glass, I could see a hole in her side, made by the
Merrimac's rifle shells.
She had lost a number of men, and had once been set on fire.
Her destruction or surrender seemed inevitable, since all efforts to get her afloat had failed.
But just then the
Merrimac turned away from her toward the
Roanoke and the
St. Lawrence.
These vessels had suffered but little from the distant fire of the
Sewell's Point batteries, but both had run aground, and had not been floated off again
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without great difficulty, for it was very hazardous for vessels of deep draught to manoeuvre over these comparatively shallow waters.
When the
Merrimac approached, they delivered broadsides and were then towed back with promptness.
The
Merrimac pursued them but a short distance (for by this time darkness was falling upon the scene of action, the tide was ebbing, and there was great risk of running aground), and then steamed toward
Norfolk with the
Beaufort, leaving her wounded at the
Marine Hospital.
And now followed one of the grandest episodes of this splendid yet somber drama.
The moon in her second quarter was just rising over the waters, but her silvery light was soon paled by the conflagration of the
Congress, whose glare was reflected in the river.
The burning frigate four miles away seemed much nearer.
As the flames crept up the rigging, every mast, spar, and rope glittered against the dark sky in dazzling lines of fire.
The hull, aground upon the shoal, was plainly visible, and upon its black surface each port-hole seemed the mouth of a fiery furnace.
For hours the flames raged, with hardly a perceptible change in the wondrous picture.
At irregular intervals, loaded guns and shells, exploding as the fire reached them, sent forth their deep reverberations.
The masts and rigging were still standing, apparently almost intact, when, about 2 o'clock in the morning, a monstrous sheaf of flame rose from the vessel to an immense height.
A deep report announced the explosion of the ship's powder-magazine.
Apparently all the force of the explosion had been upward.
The rigging had vanished entirely, but the hull seemed hardly shattered; the only apparent change in it was that in two places two or three of the port-holes had been blown into one great gap. It continued to burn until the brightness of its blaze was effaced by the morning sun.
During the night I had sent an order to bring down from
Smithfield to
Ragged Island the twelve-oared barge that I used when inspecting the river batteries, and at the first dawn of day I embarked with some of my staff, and rowed in the direction of the
Minnesota, confident of witnessing her destruction or surrender; and, in fact, nothing could have saved her but the timely arrival of the anxiously expected
Monitor.
The sun was just rising when the
Merrimac, having anchored for the night at
Sewell's Point, headed toward the
Minnesota.
But a most important incident had taken place during the night.
The
Monitor had reached
Old Point about 10 o'clock; her commander had been informed of the events of the day, and ordered to proceed at once to the relief of the
Minnesota.
As soon as the
Merrimac approached her old adversary, the
Monitor darted out from behind the
Minnesota, whose immense bulk had effectually concealed her from view.
No words can express the surprise with which we beheld this strange craft, whose appearance was tersely and graphically described by the exclamation of one of my oarsmen, “A tin can on a shingle!”
Yet this insignificant-looking object was at that moment the most powerful war-ship in the world.
The first shots of the
Merrimac were directed at the
Minnesota, which was again set on fire, while one of the tugs alongside of her was blown up, creating great havoc and consternation; but the
Monitor, having the advantage of light draught, placed herself between the
Merrimac and her intended victim, and from that moment the conflict became a heroic single combat between the two iron-clads.
For an instant they seemed to pause, as if to survey each other.
Then advancing cautiously, the two vessels opened fire as soon as they came within range, and a fierce artillery duel raged between them without perceptible effect, although the entire fight was within close range, from half a mile at the farthest down to a few yards.
For four hours, from 8 to 12 (which seemed three times as long), the cannonading continued with hardly a moment's intermission.
I was now within three-quarters of a mile of them, and more than once stray shots came near enough to dash the spray over my barge, but the grandeur of the spectacle was so fascinating that they passed by unheeded.
During the evolutions, in which the
Monitor had the advantage of light draught, the
Merrimac ran aground.
After much delay and difficulty she was floated off. Finding that her shot made no impression whatever upon the
Monitor, the
Merrimac, seizing a favorable chance, succeeded in striking her foe with her stem.
Soon afterward they ceased firing and separated as if by common consent.
The
Monitor steamed away toward
Old Point.
Captain Van Brunt, commander of the
Minnesota, states in his official report that when he saw the
Monitor disappear, he lost all hope of saving his ship.
But, fortunately for him, the
Merrimac steamed slowly toward
Norfolk, evidently disabled in her motive power.
The
Monitor, accompanied by several tugs, returned late in the afternoon, and they succeeded in floating off the
Minnesota and conveying her to
Old Point.
