How the Flag Became Old Glory Part 9

Every waft of the air Was a whisper of prayer, Or a dirge for the dead.

Ho! brave hearts that went down in the seas!

Ye are at peace in the troubled stream; Ho! brave land! with hearts like these, Thy flag, that is rent in twain, Shall be one again, And without a seam!

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

THE MONITOR

TWO old Spanish ships had, prior to the sinking of the _c.u.mberland_, met a like fate at the hands of the Confederates; and the signal success of the _Merrimac_ now augured well for the break of the blockade.

The South was greatly elated. The North was disquieted.

Twenty-four hours later the trend of events was changed.

There appeared in Hampton Roads a strange new craft, called the _Monitor_. It was unlike any vessel before seen, having a revolving round tower of iron, that enabled the gunners to train the guns on the enemy continuously, without regard to the position of the ship. The hull had an "overhang," a projection constructed of iron and wood, as a protection against rams.

The inventor and builder of this little giant was John Ericsson.

His,

"The master mind that wrought, With iron hand, this iron thought.

Strength and safety with speed combined."

The vessel had been launched in less than a hundred days after the laying of the keel, in an effort of the Federal government to have her in service before the completion of the _Merrimac_ (the _Virginia_.)

The new warship attracted the attention of the navies of Europe and brought about a change in the construction of war vessels.

As if indignant at the actions of the _Merrimac_ in preceding her, and in attacking the Union fleet, the _Monitor_ bore down upon her like some live thing bent upon retribution, and at once engaged her in a terrific encounter.

With the hope born of confidence in the strength of the Confederate ironclad, and her ability to overpower completely the Union flotilla, boats filled with sight-seers had gone out from Norfolk, but with the first terrible onset of the armored combatants speedily made their way back to safety.

In this battle of the waters two old Naval Academy comrades fought on opposite sides, Lieutenant Green and Lieutenant b.u.t.t, both well-known names.

For five long awful hours the strength of the two iron monsters was pitted against each other for supremacy on the seas, without apparent serious injury to either vessel.

At last the _Merrimac_ ended the gigantic contest by turning her prow and withdrawing to Norfolk.

THE CRUISE OF THE MONITOR

Hampton Roads, Virginia, March 9, 1862

OUT of a Northern city's bay, 'Neath lowering clouds, one bleak March day, Glided a craft,--the like I ween, On ocean's crest was never seen Since Noah's float, That ancient boat, Could o'er a conquered deluge gloat.

No raking masts, with clouds of sail, Bent to the breeze or braved the gale; No towering chimney's wreaths of smoke Betrayed the mighty engine's stroke; But low and dark, Like the crafty shark, Moved in the waters this novel bark.

The fishers stared as the flitting sprite Pa.s.sed their huts in the misty light, Bearing a turret huge and black, And said, "The old sea serpent's back Carting away, By light of day, Uncle Sam's fort from New York bay."

Forth from a Southern city's dock Our frigates' strong blockade to mock, Crept a monster of rugged build, The work of crafty hands, well skilled-- Old _Merrimac_, With an iron back Wooden ships would find hard to crack.

Straight to where the _c.u.mberland_ lay The mail-clad monster made its way; Its deadly prow struck deep and sure, And the hero's fighting days were o'er.

Ah! many the braves Who found their graves With that good ship beneath the waves.

Flushed with success, the victor flew, Furious, the startled squadron through; Sinking, burning, driving ash.o.r.e, Until the Sabbath day was o'er, Resting at night, To renew the fight With vengeful ire by morning's light.

Out of its den it burst anew, When the gray mist the sun broke through, Steaming to where, in clinging sands, The frigate _Minnesota_ stands, A st.u.r.dy foe To overthrow, But in woeful plight to receive a blow.

But see! beneath her bow appears A champion no danger fears; A pigmy craft, that seems to be, To this new lord that rules the sea, Like David of old To Goliath bold-- Youth and giant, by scripture told.

Round the roaring despot playing, With willing spirit helm obeying, Spurning the iron against it hurled, While belching turret rapid whirled, And swift shots seethe With smoky wreathe, Told that the shark was showing his teeth.

The _Monitor_ fought. In grim amaze The Merrimacs upon it gaze, Cowering 'neath the iron hail, Crashing into their coat of mail, They swore, "this craft, The devil's shaft, Looked like a cheese box on a raft."

Hurrah! little giant of '62! Bold Worden with his gallant crew Forces the fight; the day is won; Back to his den the monster's gone, With crippled claws And broken jaws, Defeated in a reckless cause.

Hurrah for the master mind that wrought, With iron hand, this iron thought!

Strength and safety with speed combined, Ericsson's gift to all mankind; To curb abuse, And chains to loose, Hurrah for the _Monitor's_ famous cruise!

GEORGE H. BOKER.

THE NIGHT OF CHANTILLY

IN March, 1862, McClellan set out from Washington to capture the Confederate capital. At Yorktown he was held in check for a month by an inferior force of Confederates. It was the last of May before he reached Fair Oaks (Seven Pines), seven miles from Richmond. The Confederates here attacked him, and a furious battle of two days' duration ensued, when the Confederates were driven back. A notable event of this engagement was the appointment of General Robert E. Lee, as commander in chief of the Confederate armies; in place of General Joseph E. Johnston, who was severely wounded.

One of the most conspicuous figures of this battle of Fair Oaks was General Philip Kearney.

In the words of Stedman:--

"When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn:-- He rode down the length of the withering column, His sword waved us on and we answered the sign."

"Kearney was the bravest man and the most perfect soldier I ever saw,"

said General Scott. "A man made for the profession of arms," says Rope.

"In the field he was always ready, always skillful, always brave, always untiring, always hopeful, and always vigilant and alert."

He distinguished himself in the War with Mexico, and lost an arm while he was leading cavalry troops in close pursuit of the retreating Mexicans, at the battle of Churubusco, when they retreated into the city of San Antonio itself.

Mounted upon his great gray steed, "Monmouth," he spurred through a rampart, felling the Mexicans as he went. A thousand arms were raised to strike him, a thousand sabers glistened in the air, when he hurriedly fell back, but too late to escape the wound which necessitated the amputation of his left arm.