THE Confederate frigate, Merrimac, newly arisen from her briny bath in the Norfolk Navy Yards, with her sides new coated in an almost impenetrable mail of iron and rechristened the Virginia, steamed slowly down the river May 8th, 1862, to Newport News, where the Cumberland, the Congress, and the Minnesota of the Union fleet lay at anchor.

The crews of the latter vessels were taking life leisurely that day, and were indulging in various pastimes beloved of seamen. The Merrimac as she hove in sight did not look especially belligerent. Indeed she appeared “like a house submerged to the eaves and borne onward by the flood.”

Notwithstanding her somewhat droll appearance, the Merrimac had herself well in control and was not on a cruise of pleasure bent, as the navies well knew.

With steady determination she came on, until within easy distance of the Congress, a vessel which gave her greeting with a shot from one of her stern guns, and received in response a shower of grape.

Broadsides were then exchanged, resulting in fearful slaughter to the crew of the Congress and damage to the guns. An officer of the Congress was a favorite brother of Captain Buchanan of the Merrimac. But such relation effected naught in the exigencies of war.

Before the Congress could recover herself, the Merrimac headed for the Cumberland. The fires of the Cumberland, as she approached, had no effect upon her armored sides.

Into the Cumberland she ran her powerful iron prow, crashing in her timbers and strewing her decks with the maimed, the dead, and dying.

Again she turned her attention to the Congress, remembering also the frigate Minnesota with her fiery baptisms. Upon the Congress she soon forced a surrender. The Minnesota found refuge in flight.

Her work upon the Cumberland was complete. And albeit the vessel had been rammed and was sinking, her men ascended to the spar deck and fought till the waters engulfed them. The last shot was fired from a gun half submerged in the water.

As the ship settled to the bottom she careened slightly and then righted herself; and the flag, as if defying the fate that threatened its destruction, still flew above the masthead.

There, close to the waves—her colors almost touching the water—the captain, who was absent from his ship, found his flag upon his return. A harbinger as it proved of the issue that was to be.