steamed toward the Congress and the Cumberland, the black smoke
rising from her funnels, and the great ripples running from each
side of her iron prow as she drove steadily through the still
waters. On board of the Congress and Cumberland there was eager
anticipation, but not a particle of fear. The officers in
command, Captain Smith and Lieutenant Morris, were two of the
most gallant men in a service where gallantry has always been too
common to need special comment. The crews were composed of
veterans, well trained, self-confident, and proud beyond measure
of the flag whose honor they upheld. The guns were run out, and
the men stood at quarters, while the officers eagerly conned the
approaching ironclad. The Congress was the first to open fire;
and, as her volleys flew, the men on the Cumberland were
astounded to see the cannon-shot bound off the sloping sides of
the ram as hailstones bound from a windowpane. The ram answered,
and her rifle-shells tore the sides of the Congress; but for her
first victim she aimed at the Cumberland, and, firing her bow
guns, came straight as an arrow at the little sloop-of-war, which
lay broadside to her.

It was an absolutely hopeless struggle. The Cumberland was a
sailing-ship, at anchor, with wooden sides, and a battery of
light guns. Against the formidable steam ironclad, with her heavy
rifles and steel ram, she was as powerless as if she had been a
rowboat; and from the moment the men saw the cannon-shot bound
from the ram's sides they knew they were doomed. But none of them
flinched. Once and again they fired their guns full against the
approaching ram, and in response received a few shells from the
great bow-rifles of the latter. Then, forging ahead, the Merrimac
struck her antagonist with her steel prow, and the sloop-of-war