by Jim Musgrave
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The dreary night of March 8 dragged slowly on; the officers and crew were up and alert, ready for any emergency. At daylight on Sunday the Merrimack and her consorts were discovered at anchor near Sewall's Point. At about half-past seven o'clock the enemy's vessels got under way and steered in the direction of the Minnesota. At the same time the Monitor got under way, and her officers and crew took their stations for battle. Captain Van Brunt officially reported, "I made signal to the Monitor to attack the enemy," but Captain Worden required no signal.
The pilot house of the Monitor was situated well forward, near the bow; it was a wrought iron structure, built of logs of iron nine inches thick, bolted through the corners, and covered with an iron plate two inches thick, which was not fastened down, but was kept in place merely by its weight. The sight- holes or slits were made by inserting quarter-inch plates at the corners between the upper set of logs and the next below. The structure projected four feet above the deck, and was barely large enough inside to hold three men standing. It presented a flat surface on all sides and on top. The steering wheel was secured to one of the logs on the front side.
Captain Worden took his station in the pilot house, and by his side were Howard, the pilot, and Peter Williams, quartermaster, who steered the vessel throughout the engagement. Lieutenant Greene's place was in the turret, to work and fight the guns; with him were Stodder and Stimers and sixteen brawny men, eight to each gun. John Stocking, boatswain's mate, and Thomas Lochrane, seaman, were gun- captains. Engineering Officer Isaac Newton and his assistants were in the engine and fire rooms, to manipulate the boilers and engines. Webber had charge of the powder division on the berth-deck, and Joseph Crown, gunner's mate, rendered valuable service in connection with this duty.
The physical condition of the officers and men of the two ships at this time was in striking contrast. The Merrimack had passed the night quietly near Sewall's Point, her people enjoying rest and sleep, elated by thoughts of the victory they had achieved that day, and cheered by the prospects of another easy victory on the morrow. The Monitor had barely escaped shipwreck twice within the last thirty-six hours, and since Friday morning, forty-eight hours before, few if any of those on board had closed their eyes in sleep or had anything to eat but hard bread, as cooking was impossible; she was surrounded by wrecks and disaster, and her efficiency in action had yet to be proved.
Worden lost no time in bringing it to test. Getting his ship under way, he steered direct for the enemy's vessels, in order to meet and engage them as far as possible from the Minnesota. As he approached, the wooden vessels quickly turned and left. Captain Worden, to the astonishment of Captain Van Brunt (as he stated later in his official report), made straight for the Merrimack, which had already commenced firing; and when he came within short range, he changed his course so as to come alongside of her, stopped the engine, and gave the order, "Commence firing!" Lieutenant Greene moved up the port, ran out the gun, and, taking deliberate aim, pulled the lockstring. The Merrimack was quick to reply, returning a rattling broadside (for she had ten guns to the Monitor's two), and the battle fairly began. The turret and other parts of the ship were heavily struck, but the shots did not penetrate; the tower was intact, and it continued to revolve. A look of confidence passed over the men's faces, and they believed the Merrimack would not repeat the work she had accomplished the day before.
The fight continued with the exchange of broadsides as fast as the guns could be served and at very short range, the distance between the vessels frequently being not more than a few yards. Worden skillfully maneuvered his quick-turning vessel, trying to find some vulnerable point in his adversary. Once he made a dash at her stern, hoping to disable her screw, which he thought he missed by not more than two feet. Shots ripped the iron of the Merrimack, while the reverberation of her shots against the tower caused anything but a pleasant sensation. While Stodder, who was stationed at the machine, which controlled the revolving motion of the turret, was incautiously leaning against the side of the tower, a large shot struck in the vicinity and disabled him. He left the turret and went below, and Stimers, who had assisted him, continued to do the work.
As the engagement continued, the working of the turret was not altogether satisfactory. It was difficult to start it revolving, or, when once started, to stop it, on account of the imperfections of the novel machinery, which was now undergoing its first trial. Stimers was an active, muscular man, and did his utmost to control the motion of the turret; but, in spite of his efforts, it was difficult if not impossible to secure accurate firing. The conditions were very different from those of an ordinary broadside gun, under which the crew had been trained on wooden ships. The only view of the world outside of the tower was over the muzzles of the guns, which cleared the ports by a few inches only. When the guns were run in, heavy iron pendulums, pierced with small holes to allow the iron rammer and sponge handles to protrude while they were in use, covered the portholes. To hoist these pendulums required the entire gun's crew and vastly increased the work inside the turret.
* * *
Later, Dana Greene wrote in his letter to John Ericsson:
The effect upon one shut up in a revolving drum is perplexing, and it is not a simple matter to keep the bearings. White marks had been placed upon the stationary deck immediately below the turret to indicate the direction of the starboard and port sides, and the bow and stern; but these marks were obliterated early in the action. I would continually ask the captain, ‘How does the Merrimack bear?’ He replied, ‘On the starboard-beam,’ or ‘On the port-quarter,’ as the case might be. Then the difficulty was to determine the direction of the starboard-beam, or port-quarter, or any other bearing. It finally resulted, that when a gun was ready for firing, the turret would be started on its revolving journey in search of the target, and when found it was taken ‘on the fly,’ because the turret could not be accurately controlled. Once the Merrimack tried to ram us; but Worden avoided the direct impact by the skillful use of the helm, and she struck a glancing blow, which did no damage. At the instant of collision I planted a solid one-hundred-and-eighty-pound shot fair and square upon the forward part of her casemate. Had the gun been loaded with thirty pounds of powder, which was the charge subsequently used with similar guns, it is probable that this shot would have penetrated her armor; but the charge being limited to fifteen pounds, in accordance with peremptory orders to that effect from the Navy Department, the shot rebounded without doing any more damage than possibly to start some of the beams of her armor-backing. The Merrimack, also, had only shells—no solid shot— and had either of us had such ammunition; the result would have been quite different!
* * *
During the battle, Chip was called to the pilot house to deliver a message to Captain Worden. Chip's imagination took off as he braved his way on deck. He could see the giant enemy ironclad looming above them, like a fantastic metal horror from his dreams, and he could hear the cannons firing at them, shells hitting nearby and whizzing on top of the water toward him. Oh Lord, if you get me out of this, I swear, I will go to church with Momma and Daddy every Sunday! Chip thought, as he neared the hatch leading into the pilot house. It was at that moment, when he was just about to enter that a large shell from the enemy hit the top of one of the slits in the pilot house bulkhead. Chip could hear a scream from inside, and when he entered, and the smoke cleared, he saw a sight that would haunt his memory forever after. Captain John Worden, his protector, the protector of Freedom for his race, was blinded—covering his eyes, dripping with blood—yelling, like a man possessed!
* * *
Later, Dana Greene wrote about the event, in more detail, in his letter to Ericsson:
When that vessel rammed the Cumberland her iron ram, or beak, was broken off and left in that vessel. This ram was ‘of cast-iron, wedge-shaped, about fifteen hundred pounds in weight, two feet under water, and projecting two and a half feet from the stem.’ A ram of this description, had it be
en intact, would have struck the Merrimack at that part of the upper hull where the armor and backing were thickest. It is very doubtful if, under any headway that the Merrimack could have acquired at such short range, this ram could have done any injury to this part of the vessel That it could by no possibility have reached the thin lower hull is evident from a glance at the drawing of the Monitor, the overhang or upper hull being constructed for the express purpose of protecting the vital part of the vessel
The battle between us continued at close quarters without apparent damage to either side. After a time, the supply of shot in the turret being exhausted, Worden hauled off for about fifteen minutes to replenish. The serving of the cartridges, weighing but fifteen pounds, was a matter of no difficulty; but the hoisting of the heavy shot was a slow and tedious operation, it being necessary that the turret should remain stationary, in order that the two scuttles, one in the deck and the other in the floor of the turret, should be in line. Worden took advantage of the lull, and passed through the porthole upon the deck outside to get a better view of the situation. He soon renewed the attack, and the contest continued as before.
Two important points were constantly kept in mind: first, to prevent the enemy’s projectiles from entering the turret through the port-holes, — for the explosion of a shell inside, by disabling the men at the guns, would have ended the fight, there being no relief gun's crews on board; second, not to fire into our own pilot-house. A careless or impatient hand, during the confusion arising from the whirligig motion of the tower, might let slip one of our big shot against the pilot house. For this and other reasons, I fired every gun while I remained in the turret.
Soon after noon a shell from the enemy’s gun, the muzzle not ten yards distant, struck the forward side of the pilot house directly in the sight-hole, or slit, and exploded, cracking the second iron log and partly lifting the top, leaving an opening. Worden was standing immediately behind this spot, and received in his face the force of the blow, which partly stunned him, and, filling his eyes with powder, utterly blinded him. Only those in the pilot house and its immediate vicinity knew the injury. The flood of light rushing through the top of the pilot house, now partly open, caused Worden, blind as he was, to believe that the pilot house was seriously injured, if not destroyed; he therefore gave orders to put the helm to starboard and sheer off. Thus the Monitor retired temporarily from the action, in order to ascertain the extent of the injuries she had received. At the same time Worden sent for me, and leaving Stimers the only officer in the turret, I went forward at once, and found him standing at the foot of the ladder leading to the pilot house.
He was a ghastly sight, with his eyes closed and the blood apparently rushing from every pore in the upper part of his face. He told me that he was seriously wounded, and directed me to take command. I assisted in leading him to a sofa in his cabin, where he was tenderly cared for by Doctor Logue, and then I assumed command. Blind and suffering as he was, Worden’s fortitude never forsook him; he frequently asked from his bed of pain of the progress of affairs, and when told that the Minnesota was saved, he said, ‘Then I can die happy.’
When I reached my station in the pilot house, I found that the iron log was fractured and the top partly open; but the steering gear was still intact, and the pilot house was not totally destroyed, as had been feared. In the confusion of the moment resulting from so serious an injury to the commanding officer, the Monitor had been moving without direction. Exactly how much time elapsed from the moment that Worden was wounded until I had reached the pilot house and completed the examination of the injury at that point, and determined what course to pursue in the damaged condition of the vessel, it is impossible to state; but it could hardly have exceeded twenty minutes at the utmost. During this time the Merrimack, which was leaking badly, had started in the direction of the Elizabeth River; and, on taking my station in the pilot house and turning the vessel's head in the direction of the Merrimack, I saw that she was already in retreat. A few shots were fired at the retiring vessel, and she continued on to Norfolk I returned with the Monitor to the side of the Minnesota, where preparations were being made to abandon the ship, which was still aground. Shortly afterward Worden was transferred to a tug, and that night he was carried to Washington.
* * *
At the end of the day, both sides believed they had won. However, in New York City, Inventor John Ericsson had received a cable from Assistant Naval Secretary G. V. Fox. In it, the details of the battle were observed, but it was also stated that it had been the poor construction of the pilot house by Captain Ericsson that led to blinding of Captain Worden and the resulting escape of the Merrimack.
Ericsson, afraid that his contract for more Monitor-class ships would be lost, and with it the return of his Amelia, dashed off a letter explaining the real reason for the Monitor turning tail after the Captain was blinded. In it, Ericsson offered up his innocent lamb, Lieutenant Samuel Dana Greene:
My Dear Sir:
No one knows better than yourself the shortcomings of that fight, ended at the moment the crew had become well trained, and the machinery got in good working order. Why? Because you had a miserable executive officer, one Lieutenant Samuel D. Greene, who, in place of jumping into the pilot house when Worden was blinded, ran away with his impregnable vessel. The displacements of the plate of the pilot house, which I had designed principally to keep out spray in bad weather, was really an advantage, by allowing fresh air to enter the cramped iron walled cabin—certainly that displacement offered no excuse for discontinuing the fight.
John Ericsson, New York City
* * *
When Dana Greene received word of the letter from Ericsson, he was crestfallen. He was now the captain of the Monitor, but he was also gradually retreating back into his private world of Whitman and the Transcendentalists. One evening, he called Chip into his cabin and read to him his new philosophy of life. "Son, I want you to understand that all of the eternal heavens are contained inside you! Isn't that fantastic? Wherever we go, the entire universe goes with us. Listen to this passage about it from the poet, Walt Whitman, as he teaches us: 'Abstract yourself from this book; realize where you are at present located, the point you stand that is now to you the centre of all. Look up overhead, think of space stretching out, think of all the unnumbered orbs wheeling safely there, invisible to us by day, some visible by night . . . Spend some minutes faithfully in this exercise. Then again realize yourself upon the earth, at the particular point you now occupy . . . Seize these firmly in your mind, pass freely over immense distances. Turn your face a moment thither. Fix definitely the direction and the idea of the distances of separate sections of your own country, also of England, the Mediterranean Sea, Cape Horn, Easter Island, the North Pole, and such like distant places.'"
Chip stared at his new captain for a moment, and then he smiled. "Thank you, Mister Greene. I think I understand you. I have been doing that since I was a little slave boy. You see, we needed to keep our imaginations on higher things than in this here life."
Greene closed the book, put his arm around the youth's shoulders, and they both went to dinner. Chip, in contrast, was thinking, Now I know you're a crazy man, and I'll be keeping my eye on you! You ran away from battle, and now you’re talking crazy about the stars. I want Captain Worden - Ishmael—not you, Mister Starbuck!
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Accidental Meeting
New York City, April 2, 1862.
Penelope and Amelia landed at New York Harbor on the H.M.S. Europa, of the Cunard Steamship Line, and immediately took a Hansom cab to Columbia University. They chatted continuously all the way there, wondering about John's health, speculating as to the whereabouts of Walter, and gazing out the window at the wartime streets of America. When they arrived at St. Luke's, Penelope was going on about a man on the voyage who kept spitting brown tobacco juice in her presence during dinner. "It was quite disgusting! When I told the gentleman to desist, he simply twirled his mustaches, winked, and sa
id, T sell tobacco to all your countrymen, Madame. If I were to desist, then I would not be an ambassador tradesman of the Carolinas!' I wanted to report him to Captain Early, but then I recalled that Walter was running tobacco for those men in the South, and thus I kept to myself."
Inside the hospital, they discovered that John had checked out two days prior, and he was now back at his lodgings on Beech Street near Canal, and they told their driver as much. He took off in a flurry of hooves and dust. Amelia was distressed about John leaving the hospital without waiting for her. He knew she was to be arriving, as her ship was on schedule, and she wondered whatever could have caused him to leave so abruptly.
On the ride over, the cab passed a tavern on Broadway called the Union Blockade. Penelope noticed a man coming out of the front entrance, and she shouted up at the driver, "Stop! Driver! It's Walter, my fiancé! Oh, please, stop!"
