On the eighth of March, a lovely spring day, the Merrimac made her trial trip by going into action with her wheezy old engines, lubberly crew, and the guns she had never yet fired. She shoveled along at only five knots; but the Confederate garrisons cheered her to the echo. Seven miles north she came upon the astonished fifty-gun Congress and thirty-gun Cumberland swinging drowsily at anchor off Newport News, with their boats alongside and the men's wash drying in the rigging. Yet the surprised frigates opened fire at twelve hundred yards and were joined by the shore batteries, all converging on the Merrimac, from whose iron sides the shot glanced up without doing more than hammer her hard and start a few rivets. Closing in at top speed--barely six knots--the Merrimac gave the Congress a broadside before ramming the Cumberland and opening a hole "wide enough to drive in a horse and cart." Backing clear and turning the after-pivot gun, the Merrimac then got in three raking shells against the Congress, which grounded when trying to escape. Meanwhile the Cumberland was listing over and rapidly filling, though she kept up the fight to the very last gasp. When she sank with a roar her topmasts still showed above water and her colors waved defiance.
An hour later the terribly mauled Congress surrendered; whereupon her crew was rescued and she was set on fire. By this time various smaller craft on both sides had joined the fray. But the big Minnesota still remained, though aground and apparently at the mercy of the Merrimac. The great draught of the Merrimac and the setting in of the ebb tide, however, made the Confederates draw off for the night.
Next morning they saw the "tin can on the shingle" between them and their prey. The Monitor and Merrimac then began their epoch-making fight. The patchwork engines of the deep-draught Merrimac made her as unhandy as if she had been water-logged, while the light-draught Monitor could not only play round her when close-to but maneuver all over the surrounding shallows as well. The Merrimac put her last ounce of steam into an attempt to ram her agile opponent. But a touch of the Monitor's helm swung her round just in time to make the blow perfectly harmless. The Merrimac simply barged into her, grated harshly against her iron side, and sheered off beaten. The firing was furious and mostly at pointblank range. Once the Monitor fired while the sides were actually touching. The concussion was so tremendous that all the Merrimac's gun-crews aft were struck down flat, with bleeding ears and noses. But in spite of this her boarders were called away; whereupon every man who could handle cutlass and revolver made ready and stood by. The Monitor, however, dropped astern too quickly; and the wallowing Merrimac had no chance of catching her. The fight had lasted all through that calm spring morning when the Monitor steamed off, across the shallows, still keeping carefully between the Merrimac and Minnesota. It was a drawn battle. But the effect was that of a Northern victory; for the Merrimac was balked of her easy prey, and the North gained time to outbuild the South completely.
Outbuilding the South of course meant tightening the "anaconda"system of blockade, in the entangling coils of which the South was caught already. Three thousand miles of Southern coastline was, however, more than the North could blockade or even watch to its own satisfaction all at once. Fogs, storms, and clever ruses played their part on behalf of those who ran the blockade, especially during the first two years; and it was almost more than human nature could stand to keep forever on the extreme alert, day after dreary day, through the deadly boredom of a long blockade. Like caged eagles the crews passed many a weary week of dull monotony without the chance of swooping on a chase. "Smoke ho!" would be called from the main-topgallant cross-tree. "Where away?" would be called back from the deck. "Up the river, Sir!"--and there it would stay, the very mark of hope deferred.
Occasionally a cotton ship would make a dash, with lights out on a dark night, or through a dense fog, when her smoke might sometimes be conned from the tops. Occasionally, too, a foreigner would try to run in, and not seldom succeed, because only the fastest vessels tried to run the blockade after the first few months. But the general experience was one of utter boredom rarely relieved by a stroke of good luck.
The South could not break the blockade. But the North could tighten it, and did so repeatedly, not only at sea but by establishing strong strategic centers of its own along the Southern coast. We have seen already how Hatteras Island was taken in '61, five weeks after Bull Run. Within another three weeks Ship Island was also taken, to the great disadvantage of the Gulf ports and the corresponding advantage of the Federal fleet blockading them; for Ship Island commanded the coastwise channels between Mobile and New Orleans, the two great scenes of Farragut's success. Then, on the seventh of November, the day that Grant began his triumphant career by dealing the Confederates a shrewd strategic blow at Belmont in Missouri, South Carolina suffered a worse defeat at Port Royal (where she lost Forts Beauregard and Walker) than North Carolina had suffered at Hatteras Island. Admiral S. F. Du Pont managed the naval part of the Port Royal expedition with consummate skill, especially the fine fleet action off Hilton Head against the Southern ships and forts. He was ably seconded by General Thomas West Sherman, commanding the troops.
