The Sinking of the “Cumberland” and Destruction of the “Congress”—Fight Between the “Merrimack” and “Monitor”—The “Merrimack” and Other Confederate Vessels Enter Hampton Roads and Capture Three of Our Vessels in Broad Daylight—Our Fleet Shell the Confederate Batteries—Bombardment of the Rip-Raps—Adventures of Captain Drake DeKay—The Army of the Potomac Lands at Hampton—Exciting Scenes in the Department.

The Federal naval force present in Hampton Roads and James River, on the 8th of March, 1862, consisted of the “Minnesota,” a steam-frigate, commanded by Captain Van Brunt, carrying fifty guns; the frigate “Congress,” a sailing-vessel of fifty guns, commanded by Captain Smith; the “Roanoke,” a steam-frigate of the same class of the “Minnesota,” carrying fifty guns, commanded by Captain Marston; the “St. Lawrence,” a sailing-frigate, twelve guns; the sloop-of-war “Cumberland,” twenty-four guns. Beside these were two armed tugs, the “Whilden” and “Zouave,” and a small gunboat called the “Dragon.”

The “Minnesota,” “St. Lawrence,” “Roanoke,” and the tugs and gunboat lay off Fortress Monroe, while the “Congress” and the “Cumberland” were anchored in the James; the former nearest the mouth of the river, and the latter about three-fourths of a mile from the shore, and directly opposite the camp at Newport News. Sometime in November, 1861, the “Roanoke” broke her shaft, and was in this disabled condition at this time. The crew of the “Congress” had, early in March, 1862, been discharged, and the vessel manned by three companies of the Naval Brigade.

The war-vessels of the Confederates in these waters were the “Merrimack,” also known in history as the “Virginia,” carrying ten guns, eight broadside and one at each end; the “Patrick Henry,” six guns; the “Jamestown,” two guns; the “Raleigh,” “Beaufort,” and “Teaser,” each one gun.

The “Merrimack” had been raised by the enemy during the summer of 1861, and constructed into a shot-proof steam-battery, with inclined iron-plated sides and submerged ends. “The eaves of the casemates, as well as the ends of the vessel, were submerged, and a ram was added as a weapon of offence.” This novel vessel of war was commanded by Captain Franklin Buchanan, formerly of the United States Navy.

At about two o’clock in the afternoon of the 8th of March, the long roll startled the garrison at Newport News. The men were quickly in line, and in a few minutes the cry of, “The ‘Merrimack’! The ‘Merrimack’!” resounded throughout the camp. A dense volume of black smoke was now seen at the mouth of the Elizabeth River, and in the course of fifteen minutes the dark form of the foe was distinctly seen. The day was bright and warm; not a breeze rippled the surface of the river. The “Congress” being nearest the enemy, began making preparations for the battle. Her masts and spars soon whitened with her sails, and the four thousand soldiers in Camp Butler stood mute, but with intense anxiety, waiting the opening of the contest. The painful silence that brooded over that strange scene was at last suddenly broken by a sharp, angry “bang!” from one of the larboard ports of the “Cumberland.” The shot struck within a few yards of the “Merrimack,” sending the water in silvery spray high into the air. The signal for the assault thus given was quickly followed by a whole broadside from the “Congress.” For a short time both “Congress” and “Merrimack” were veiled from sight by the clouds of curling smoke. To the surprise and alarm of the garrison, the cloud rose, revealing the “Merrimack” still afloat and apparently unharmed, still approaching. The “Congress” now began a rapid and continuous fire upon the enemy. The “Merrimack,” without replying to this fire, passed close alongside the frigate, and when within a few hundred yards of her, across her bows, opened on her with a rifled gun. The shot entered the frigate, raking her from stem to stern, dismounting several of her guns, and killing and wounding many of her crew, among them her brave commander.

The “Congress” was fairly disabled by this shot; her commander was killed, confusion reigned supreme, and now the Stars and Stripes were hauled down, and the white flag of truce run up to masthead. The frigate slipped her cables and floated helplessly away, the “Merrimack” continuing on her course toward the “Cumberland.”

It was reserved for the latter vessel to make the bravest fight of that terrible and eventful day. As soon as the “Merrimack” was within easy range, the sloop-of-war opened with a whole broadside; but the shot glanced harmlessly from the mailed sides of the foe; and now, with full head of steam, the enemy made a desperate and angry plunge toward his plucky antagonist, sending his ugly prow crashing through her timbers. The prow struck the “Cumberland” under her starboard fore-channels, making an enormous hole. For a few minutes, both vessels seemed to be sinking. The prow had wedged itself so firmly in the timbers as to render it difficult for the enemy to withdraw and save himself from the same fate he had designed for the ship. After a few trials, he succeeded, however, and backing off, took up a position directly across the bows of the “Cumberland,” and opened on her at very close range, the two vessels almost touching each other. In this position the “Cumberland” could only use her bow guns (some three or four); but these were worked with great energy, sending their heavy shot directly at the enemy’s ports.

The shell and canister of the “Merrimack” were sweeping the gun-decks of the “Cumberland” with fearful slaughter. At times, nearly every gun was unmanned, but other brave sailors came upon the bloody deck and renewed the unequal contest. The flag of the “Cumberland” was still flying defiantly from her mizzen-mast; the shouts and cries of friend and foe, the angry and excited commands of the officers, could be distinctly heard on shore.

The sick-bay of the “Cumberland” was filled to suffocation with blackened and bleeding victims, and, what added greater terror to the scene, she was now rapidly sinking. Despite the vigorous plying of the pumps, the water rose to the main hatchway in less than ten minutes after she was struck, flooding her forward powder-magazines, and rendering them useless. The noble ship now canted to port. Many sprang to save the wounded, while other brave tars still stood at their guns, delivering their last fire as the inrushing waters closed over them. Like a creature of flesh and blood in the agonies of death, the sloop-of-war trembled and creaked, her bows plunged into the dark water, her stern mounted high into the air, and down she went, with a roaring, rushing sound of the waves.

The water was now filled with struggling men striking for the shore. The beach was lined with enraged and pitying soldiers. Logs and planks were seized by them and thrown into the water, to aid the swimmers, and others rushing into the water to their arm-pits, seized the half-drowned sailors and brought them to the land. Others of the sailors were rescued by the steam-propeller “Whilden,” Capt. William Riggins, which put off to the scene of the disaster in the midst of the fire of the “Merrimack,” and thus saved the lives of many who would otherwise have found a watery grave. About one hundred of the dead and wounded of the “Cumberland” went down with the ship, and among them the Chaplain, the Rev. J. Lenhart.

The land-battery in Camp Butler, which was chiefly manned by members of the Twenty-ninth, and which mounted some five guns,—among them two 42-pounder James rifles,—was very active during the entire contest between the “Merrimack” and “Cumberland.” When the “Cumberland” sunk, the Confederate ram was a fair target for our men, but their shots were wholly powerless to do her harm. The “Merrimack” replied to several of our shots, one of her shells striking the parapet, and throwing the earth in clouds of dust over the gunners.

The river now presented a scene of great interest. The “Jamestown” and “Patrick Henry,” two Confederate steamers, had arrived, and taking up a position about two miles from our camp, began shelling it with great vigor. One of these missiles passed through a barrack of the First New York, while others cut off the tops of the pines about the camp. These two steamers divided their attentions about equally between the camp and the floating “Congress,” firing at the latter with murderous effect, and in shameful and savage violation of the rules of civilized warfare, the “Congress” displaying all the while her flag of truce.

An attempt was now made to capture our frigate, and tow her off, a prize of war. The steam-tug “Zouave” (Union) immediately ran down to her and towed her to our shore, fairly beaching her, before the Confederate steamers “Beaufort” and “Raleigh” arrived. Upon reaching the “Congress,” these steamers immediately hauled alongside. General Mansfield, observing this movement, ordered Captain Howard, with a section of his light battery, and Colonel Brown, with two companies of the Twentieth Indiana Regiment, to open fire upon these steamers. The order was promptly obeyed, and in a few moments our shots were striking the Confederate steamers, and whistling about the ears of their men, as they were attempting to clamber up the sides and into the ports of our ship, causing them to withdraw, and killing and wounding several of their number. Among the wounded were Buchanan, the commander of the “Merrimack,” who received a severe gunshot wound in the thigh, and Lieutenant Minot of the “Beaufort.” The crew of the “Congress,” her dead and wounded, and some of the valuable movable articles on her, were landed under a fire from the Confederate fleet. Early in the afternoon, the steam-frigate “Minnesota,” the “Roanoke,” and “St. Lawrence” (anchored near Fortress Monroe) attempted to come to the relief of our fleet in the James. The machinery of the “Roanoke” was out of order, and she was towed by two tugs; the “St. Lawrence,” not being a steam-vessel, was also towed. In order to enter the James, these vessels were obliged to pass within easy range of a battery on Sewall’s Point, which did them considerable damage. After passing into the mouth of the James, the “Minnesota” and “St. Lawrence” both grounded. The entire fleet of the enemy, headed by the “Merrimack,” now quitted the disabled “Congress” and steamed down to attack the “Minnesota” and “St. Lawrence.” The “Merrimack,” being of deep draught, could not approach nearer than a mile to either of these ships; and her firing being very inaccurate, she only succeeded in striking the “Minnesota” once. For awhile, the small Confederate steamers, armed with rifled cannon, and having the choice of both distance and position, did considerable damage to the “Minnesota,” but eventually the frigate drove them away.

By this time the day was far spent, the sun having already set; and when everybody on shore had begun to consider the sad day’s work ended, the huge monster, the “Merrimack,” was again observed approaching Camp Butler. This time she took the inner channel, and as she came along, her immense chimney towering up among the branches of the trees that overhung the river bank, belching forth volumes of smoke and sparks, her appearance was simply appalling. Arriving at a point where the channel winds in nearest to the shore, the camp was fairly within range of her bow gun. A sudden burst of light, a dismal, deafening roar, and the crashing of boards and timbers were heard almost simultaneously. The large shot passed entirely through the post hospital and the headquarters’ building of General Mansfield, tearing down the chimney of the latter, and nearly burying that venerable officer in the ruins. He was, fortunately, but little hurt, and soon emerged from the house white with plaster. This ended the hostilities of the 8th of March. The “Merrimack” now withdrew, and darkness soon settled down upon both land and water.

The night was one of great gloom and excitement in Camp Butler, as well as in all the Federal camps in the department. Mounted orderlies were riding in every direction, and rumors were rife of a land attack by the enemy’s troops under Magruder. In anticipation of such a movement, the garrison was re-enforced early in the evening by a body of infantry from Camp Hamilton, and every preparation was made to repel the assault.

While the day, which had just closed, had been rendered famous in history by its unexampled occurrences, the night which followed was destined to usher in scenes that will never fade from the memory of those who witnessed them. The frigate “Congress,” which lay hard aground on the sand-beach near the camp of the Twentieth Indiana Regiment, had been set on fire late in the afternoon, and the lurid flames now lit up the bay and strand with a brightness rivaling that of the day itself. Many of her guns were still shotted, and as the fire coiled about them, they began to discharge; a shot from one of them, skimming the surface of the water, entered and sank a schooner lying at our wharf. The flames had mounted each mast and spar, and were leaping out at every port with angry tongues. Heaps of shells, which had been brought from the magazines for the afternoon’s encounter, lay on the gun-decks; these now began to explode, and ever and anon they would dart up out of the roaring, crackling mass, high into the air, and course in every direction through the heavens.

At twelve o’clock, the magazines blew up with a terrific noise. This event had been anticipated by the garrison, and the shores and adjacent camps were crowded with awe-struck gazers. The whole upper works of the frigate had, hours before, been reduced to ashes by the devouring flames; the masts and spars, blackened and charred, had fallen into and across the burning hull; these were sent high into the air with other debris, and as blast succeeded blast, were suddenly arrested in their descent and again sent heavenward. The spectacle thus presented was awfully grand; a column of fire and sulphurous smoke, fifty feet in diameter at its base and not less than two hundred feet high, dividing in its centre into thousands of smaller jets, and falling in myriads of bunches and grains of fire, like the sprays of a gigantic fountain, lighted up the camp and bay for miles.

The yards and rigging of the “Minnesota” and “St. Lawrence” were filled with men armed with fire-buckets, lest the falling sparks should ignite the tarred ropes of these vessels, and unite them in one general conflagration. The sides of the hapless “Congress” were thrown open by the last explosion, and the next morning, all that could be seen of the once proud ship were a few blackened ribs, a short distance above the surface of the water.

When the soldiers of Camp Butler turned away from that scene to retire to their quarters, it was with heavy hearts. The recollection of the harrowing events of the afternoon was still fresh in their minds; they had now witnessed the total destruction of another vessel of our navy, the loss of which gave joy to the South, a new lease of life to the Rebellion, and operated to postpone the day when they would be permitted to doff the blue and return to their homes.

Sunday the 9th of March dawned, finding the frigate “Minnesota” still aground, her consort, the “St. Lawrence,” having more fortunately drifted into deep water. The day broke fair, and so calm was everything upon both water and land, that it seemed very like a preparation for the funeral of the two hundred brave men who had tasted death on the preceding day. The Confederate fleet could be distinctly seen lying at anchor under their batteries at Sewall’s Point. A column of white steam was issuing from the pipes of the “Merrimack”; it was evident that she was preparing to set out on her second day’s exploits, and attempt to deal the final blow to our navy in Hampton Roads. At about seven o’clock, the “Merrimack” was discovered to be moving, and following her were the other vessels of the Confederate fleet. Upon rounding the Point, the iron-clad shaped her course directly towards Fortress Monroe, but she had not proceeded far before she suddenly turned and steered toward the mouth of the James. The drums of the “Minnesota” were heard beating her anxious crew to quarters. When the “Merrimack” had arrived within fair range, she fired a shot from her bow gun. The shot struck the frigate under her counter, doing her not a little damage. The fire was quickly replied to by the frigate, and now Captain Van Brunt, her commander, signalled the “Monitor,” which up to that moment had lain close alongside of the ship, and which had arrived from New York the night before, to attack the enemy.

This diminutive craft had not until this time been seen by our men on shore, although rumors of its arrival had spread through camp; and as it steamed out upon the bay, wonder as to what it was, and what it would be likely to accomplish, seized fast hold upon all. With apparent confidence in its ability to contend with the monster iron-clad of the enemy, the “Monitor” steamed directly toward it, and when within one hundred yards, opened fire. The report of that gun rang out so loud upon the still air of the morning, as to immediately create a feeling of confidence in the ability of the little boat to contend successfully with the enemy. In less than five minutes from that time, the two vessels were hotly engaged with each other, belching out fire and iron in each others’ faces.

The other vessels of the enemy were by this time fairly engaged with the “St. Lawrence,” “Minnesota,” and the Federal gunboats, and were soon put to flight, keeping well off toward the opposite shore. Shortly after the “Merrimack” had fired her first broadside at the “Monitor,” and had seen her shots glance harmlessly from the revolving turret, she tried the experiment of sinking her, and after backing off slowly, ran at her, head on. The prow of the “Merrimack” struck the “Monitor,” but glanced, and the little vessel swung around, delivering in this position several of her most effective shots in rapid succession. After this the combatants parted, and a brief truce followed, at the close of which the two vessels again neared each other, and a second duel, fiercer and more desperate if possible than the first, ensued.

At one time during the battle, the Confederate steamer “Jamestown” ventured to interfere on the side of the “Merrimack,” but received from the “Monitor” a shot that pierced her sides, and disabled her to such a degree as to cause her to haul off. During much of the time that the two iron-clads were actively engaged, they were scarcely visible from the shore, being enveloped in clouds of smoke; but occasionally the garrison were disagreeably reminded of what was going on by a huge shot from one or the other of the vessels missing its mark and reaching the land. Several of these huge missiles went bounding over the long plain, casting the dust high into the air, and plowing up the earth in deep, irregular furrows.

At about twelve o’clock, while the “Monitor” was apparently resting, being separated by the distance of a mile from her antagonist, the “Merrimack” made a sudden movement towards the “Minnesota.” The tide being at its height, it was doubtless supposed by the enemy that he could reach the frigate, and give her a death-blow with his prow. The “Minnesota” opened upon the enemy with all her broadside guns and ten-inch pivot; “a broadside,” says Captain Van Brunt in his report, “that would have blown out of the water any timber-built ship in the world.” The “Merrimack” replied with her rifled bow gun “with a shell which passed through the chief engineer’s stateroom, through the engineer’s messroom amidships, and burst in the boatswain’s room, tearing four rooms all into one; in its passage, exploding two charges of powder, which set the ship on fire.”26... The fire was quickly extinguished; but the alarm of fire having reached the ears of the men, great consternation prevailed for several minutes. A second shot from the ram went through the boiler of the gunboat “Dragon,” which lay near the “Minnesota,” exploding it, and badly scalding and wounding a number of our sailors. The position of the enemy was now such as to enable the “Minnesota” to concentrate upon him a heavy fire from her gun-deck, spar-deck, and forecastle pivot-guns; and it was stated by the marine officer of the frigate, who was stationed on the poop, that at least fifty solid shot struck the slanting side of the “Merrimack” during this fire, but without producing any apparent effect.

By the time the “Merrimack” had fired her third shot at the “Minnesota,” the “Monitor” had reached the scene of action, and immediately ran in between the two vessels, covering by her turret, as far as possible, the already badly-injured frigate. This movement of the “Monitor” caused the “Merrimack” to change her position, in doing which she grounded. Again the frigate, aided by the “Monitor,” poured into the ram every available gun; but the stanch iron-clad withstood the combined fire of both our vessels, and in the course of a few minutes floated, shaping her course down the bay, being closely followed by the “Monitor.” In the course of this pursuit, the “Merrimack” suddenly turned, and with full head of steam, struck the “Monitor” for the second time with her prow; but the blow produced no effect, while the “Monitor” fired a solid shot that plunged into the enemy’s roof. Then followed a cannonade more desperate, if possible, than any which had preceded it. The “Merrimack” brought four of her guns to bear upon the “Monitor’s” turret and pilot-house. In the latter was Lieutenant Worden, watching the progress of the battle. An immense solid shot struck the house with such force as to loosen the cement about the inside of the structure, and set in motion a fragment of it, which struck the gallant lieutenant in one of his eyes. The concussion and the blow completely stunned him, rendered him senseless, and disabled him for further duty during the battle. Soon after this accident, the “Monitor” stood down for Fortress Monroe, when the “Merrimack” and two of her consorts again turned toward the stranded frigate. Captain Van Brunt had nearly expended all his solid shot, his ship was already badly crippled, and his officers and men worn out by their excessive labor. It is no wonder, therefore, that when he saw the near prospect of another terrible struggle with the invulnerable enemy, that the thought of burning his vessel came into his mind, for, to use his language, “I determined never to give up the ship to the rebels.” Fortunately the “Merrimack” was satisfied that her efforts to further cripple our fleet could not succeed, and being herself more or less disabled, headed toward Norfolk, the “Monitor,” to the unspeakable joy of the spectators, starting in pursuit. The chase, which was continued for several miles, and then abandoned, was not attended with any tiring on the part of either vessel. This was the closing scene of this remarkable battle.

The excitement in Camp Butler was not to end just here. The men had hardly swallowed their dinner, before a number of horsemen came riding into camp, their horses flecked with foam and themselves covered with dust. They had come from the outposts to inform General Mansfield that the enemy in large numbers were advancing, and that an attack was imminent. The long roll was again beaten, and the excited men mustered with no less alacrity than on the previous day. The Twenty-ninth Regiment formed in line of battle just inside the breastworks, and as it stood there anxiously gazing in the direction of the forest, Lieutenant-Colonel Barnes, then in command, rode to the front, and uttered these words: “Men, we may be called upon to meet the enemy in battle this afternoon, the most of you for the first time. Remember that you are the only Massachusetts troops in this camp!” The emotion of pride and sense of responsibility which these simple words awoke in the breasts of the men was manifested by a hearty cheer all along the line. Things looked very much like a fight at that moment; the entire garrison was under arms, and General Mansfield, mounted, was moving briskly about the camp, speaking cheering words to the troops. This was his speech to the Twenty-ninth: “My men, Magruder is up the river with ten thousand troops. I have in camp six thousand men with muskets and a million rounds of cartridges; and so long as there is left me a man, a musket, or a cartridge, I’ll keep that flag flying!” pointing to the post flag flying near his quarters.

The Twentieth New York Regiment was despatched to the “Brick House,” where it threw up entrenchments and remained during the night. The enemy expected that our entire fleet would be destroyed in this fight, and with the “Merrimack” on the river and a large force in front, they hoped for an easy victory; but finding that our fleet still existed, they concluded not to attack, and toward night retired.

The repose and quiet which had reigned so constantly during the long winter of 1861-62, in Camp Butler, were ended by the tragic occurrences of these two days. As long as the regiment thereafter continued to remain at Newport News, scarcely a day passed without its exciting incident; and not infrequently the slumbers of the men at night were rudely broken by the ominous sound of the long roll and the sudden screech of a shell thrown from the “Teaser,” an insolent little nondescript of the enemy’s fleet, which sailed down the river occasionally, and amused herself by firing into our camp.

Ever after the 9th of March, the mails were irregular, the “Merrimack” at times blockading the mouth of the river, and rendering water communication between Newport News and Fortress Monroe difficult and hazardous. The passenger-boat “Express,” which had run regularly twice a day between the fort and camp, was obliged to suspend her trips during the time the “Merrimack” remained at the mouth of the Elizabeth, as she could not enter the James without the risk of being blown out of the water by the terrible guns of the iron-clad, and a small boat of light draught was put on the route in her place. Even this little steamer was obliged, in passing the Point, to hug the shore closely in order to avoid the enemy, and to make her trips after nightfall or before daylight in the morning. In the course of a few weeks our naval force in the Roads began to increase considerably, and the Confederate ram withdrew farther up the river, only occasionally showing herself, and then rarely below Craney Island.

An affair occurred on the 11th of April that was very humiliating, and caused great indignation and alarm throughout the North. During the forenoon of this day, the “Merrimack,” “Jamestown,” and “Patrick Henry” steamed slowly down the Elizabeth into Hampton Roads, directly under the guns of Fortress Monroe and some dozen large Federal vessels. Near the mouth of Hampton Creek were anchored a brig and two schooners, supply-vessels. The Confederate steamer “Jamestown” deliberately ran up to these vessels, boarded them, and towed them off toward Norfolk without the slightest opposition being made by the navy or the fort; and while this disgrace was being visited, unrebuked, upon our flag, several of the sailing-vessels of our navy were hoisting sails and making all possible haste seaward, actually running before they were hurt.

A crowd of highly-exasperated soldiers were looking upon this scene from Newport News, filled with amazement by the strange and unexplained conduct of our navy, and of the Commander of Fortress Monroe. It was impossible that men who had witnessed the brave fight which the “Cumberland,” about a month before, had made with the iron monster of the enemy,—who had seen our noble ship go down with the flag flying, and who had exposed their own lives to save those of her crew,—who had themselves manned the land-batteries, and done whatever lay in their power to destroy the foe,—could look upon this scene without having their soldierly pride stung to the quick, and their feelings of love for the flag severely wounded.

The enemy’s fleet lay in the Roads till near dark, inviting an attack from our vessels, but not venturing to make one. Just as the “Merrimack” was leaving, she bade our fleet good night by firing three shots into it, which were replied to by the “Naugatuck” and “Octorora.”

Not long after this, an attack was made by our fleet upon the enemy’s shore-batteries, extending all the way from Ocean View to Sewall’s Point, a distance often miles or more. The shore was heavily wooded, and these works, in which were stationed small bodies of troops, were erected in the edge of the timber, commanding all the available landing-places. At Sewall’s Point, where there was a large Confederate camp, were several very powerful works, containing one or more bomb-proofs. The movement began about one o’clock in the afternoon, and the line of battle, which was led by the “Monitor,” was made up of about twelve vessels. Beginning near Ocean View, the fleet commenced raining a shower of shot and shell upon the beach and woods. Presently a puff of white smoke was seen rising among the trees, and at the same moment a huge shell exploded just over the masts of one of the gunboats. This was followed by another and another in rapid succession; but the fire from the boats was too severe for the little sand-battery: its guns were silenced and its garrison dispersed in less than fifteen minutes.

While this battle was in progress, some of the leading vessels had stirred up several other works, and a fierce contest ensued, ending, as did the first, in the course of a few minutes. In this manner, the fleet continued along the shore, silencing every battery as it was reached, until it came to the end of Sewall’s Point, where it encountered the bomb-proofs, and met with a more determined resistance. Here the chief part of the fighting was done by the “Monitor,” which, being of lighter draught than the other vessels, lay in near the beach, and shelled the forts at comparatively close range, while the other boats shelled the woods and camp.

The view of this battle from “Signal Station Point,” so called (Newport News), was very grand. The large shot of the “Monitor” would strike the sides of the earthworks, and throw up vast columns of dust and sand high into the air, while the shells from the frigates and gunboats were exploding rapidly among the branches of the forest-trees, tearing away great pieces of their trunks, and scattering the fragments in all directions. At short intervals, a long flash of flame and column of smoke would dart out of the embrasures of the hostile works, showing that the enemy was not disposed to yield his position.

After this bombardment had been going on for an hour or more, the “Merrimack” was seen coming down the Elizabeth, and when within a mile of the Point, every vessel of the Federal fleet turned suddenly and went toward the fortress. The ram attempted no pursuit, but sailed down toward the Point and remained stationary for a few moments; when, as suddenly as they had retreated, the Federal vessels began to return, whereupon the “Merrimack” retired, and the bombardment of the land-batteries was renewed, continuing till well into the evening, but with no decisive results.

A few days after this event (April 19), an affair of some interest occurred, being an attempt on the part of the Confederates to shell out the garrison at the Rip-Raps. By means of a gun of remarkable range, stationed on Sewall’s Point, the enemy was able to throw shell entirely over the little island, which he did more frequently than to hit it. The shelling began late in the afternoon, in the midst of a severe thunder-storm, and lasted until some time after dark, the batteries at the Rip-Raps replying with vigor. It is not probable that either party inflicted any injury upon the other; but the display afforded by the passing shells, made visible by their burning fuses, making graceful curves, sometimes almost meeting each other in the heavens, and bursting in the darkness, was grand and startling.

The department of Fortress Monroe had now assumed greater importance than it had ever possessed before. The attention of the whole world had been turned thither because of the great battles of the 8th and 9th of March, which had revolutionized the system of marine architecture, and furnished examples of human bravery unsurpassed in the annals of naval warfare. But the department was to be the starting-point of one of the greatest of our many military expeditions, and for a brief season the rendezvous of one of the finest armies that ever took the field; namely, the Army of the Potomac. “The council, composed of four corps commanders, organized by the President of the United States, at its meeting on the 13th of March, adopted Fort Monroe as the base of operations for the movement of the Army of the Potomac upon Richmond.”27

The first arrival of troops was about the middle of March, and from that time till the middle of April, transports were constantly arriving in the Roads, loaded with soldiers, horses, and all the munitions of war.

Fortress Monroe and Hampton soon assumed the appearance of great mercantile ports; the wharves were filled with vessels and steamers, and long trains were constantly engaged in transporting the cargoes of these vessels to the headquarters of the army, then established in the vicinity of Hampton. The increased activity in the military affairs of the department was manifest at Newport News, for occasionally troops were landed at this camp, and among them the entire division of General Casey, numbering five or six thousand men, and containing several light batteries, which paraded upon the field near the works. On the 2d of April, the transport steamer “Hero” arrived, bringing a Maine and Pennsylvania regiment. As the steamer was nearing the landing, she was fired at from the enemy’s works at Pig Point, and narrowly escaped being hit. About this time, there came several Western regiments, all of which bivouacked on the plain, and later the camp was largely increased by the arrival of other troops. A part of these were destined to go to New Orleans, and during the latter part of April, took passage on the transport steamer “Constitution,” at that time the largest in the service. When the “Constitution” steamed out of the James, she was exposed to a very severe fire from Sewall’s Point. It was broad daylight, and as she approached the hostile shore, being compelled to keep in the main channel because of her great draught, the enemy opened on her with shell, several of which exploded among her rigging and inflicted upon her some damage; but fortunately none of the troops were hurt, though they were all on deck. Events of this nature, and the daring exploits of Captain Drake DeKay, a very gallant young officer of General Mansfield’s staff, furnished abundant material for camp talk, and kept up a constant excitement. DeKay formed a crew from among the members of companies A and B of the Twenty-ninth Regiment, manned one of the large barges of the “Cumberland,” saved from the battle, and made nightly excursions up the river, capturing on one occasion a schooner, and setting her on fire; and at another time landed on the opposite shore, and reconnoitred the enemy’s position. When the Army of the Potomac began to move up the Peninsula, and rumors thick and fast of great battles and severe skirmishes reached the rear, the excitement was increased tenfold. Among these rumors, which no one, however ingenious or industrious, could have traced to their source, especially to any authentic source, were reports, frequently circulated, that the regiment was to cross the river and attack Pig Point, to join the Army of the Potomac, march on Norfolk, and to do a great variety of other things; and, strangely enough, many of these predicted movements were eventually made by the regiment.