The Civil War_ Fort Sumter To Perryville Part 9

"Not that. Not that exactly," McClellan told him. "But we must bear in mind the necessity of having everything ready in case of a defeat, and keep our lines of retreat open."

After this, they let him go in disgust. When he had gone, Chandler turned to Wade and sneered. "I don't know much about war," he said, "but it seems to me that this is infernal, unmitigated cowardice."

Wade thought so, too, and as chairman he went to see Lincoln about it. McClellan must be discarded, he cried. When the President asked who should be put in his place, Wade snorted: "Anybody!"

"Wade," Lincoln replied sadly, "anybody will do for you, but I must have somebody."

Already that week he had made one replacement in a high place. For months now there had been growing reports of waste and graft in the War Department; of contracts strangely let; of shoddy cloth, tainted pork, spavined horses, and guns that would not shoot; of the Vermont jobber who boasted at Willard's, grinning, "You can sell anything to the government at almost any price you've got the guts to ask."

Simon Cameron was responsible, though there was no evidence that the Secretary had profited personally except in the use of his office to pay off his political debts and strengthen his political position. Lincoln could understand this last, having himself done likewise-in point of fact, that was how Cameron got the job-and he knew, too, that much of the waste and bungling, much of the greed and dishonesty, even, was incident to the enormous task of preparing the unprepared nation for war and increasing the army from 16,000 to better than half a million men in the process. All the same, the Pennsylvanian was unquestionably lax in his conduct of business affairs, and when Lincoln warned him of this, resisting the general outcry for his removal, Cameron made his first really serious mistake. He made it, however, not through any ordinary brand of stupidity-Cameron was a very canny man-but rather through his canniness in trying to safeguard his position in the cabinet by strengthening his position in the public eye and in the minds of the increasingly powerful radicals in Congress. He fell because he did what many men had done before and what others would do in the future, after he himself was off the scene. He underestimated Lincoln.

Despite the example of Fremont, or perhaps because he thought that the furor which had followed Fremont's dismissal would have taught Lincoln a lesson, Cameron reasoned that by ingratiating himself with the Jacobins he would insure himself against any action by the President, who would not dare to antagonize them further by molesting another man who had won their favor. Any attack on slavery was the answer. Emanc.i.p.ation was the issue on which Lincoln was treading softest, since it was the one that cut sharpest along the line dividing the Administration's supporters and opponents. Accordingly, with the help of his legal adviser Stanton, Cameron drafted and included in his annual Department report a long pa.s.sage advocating immediate freedom for southern slaves and their induction into the Union army, thereby adding muscle to the arm of the republic and weakening the enemy, who as "rebellious traitors" had forfeited their rights to any property at all, let alone the ownership of fellow human beings. Without consulting the President-though it was usual for such doc.u.ments to be submitted for approval-the Secretary had the report printed and sent out to the postmasters of all the princ.i.p.al cities for distribution to the press as soon as it was being read to Congress.

So far all was well. Even when Lincoln discovered what had been done and recalled the pamphlet by telegraphic order, for reprinting without the offensive pa.s.sage, things still went as Cameron had expected. Critics of the President's tread-easy policy, comparing the original with the expurgated report-some copies of course escaped destruction, so that both versions appeared in the papers-were harsh in their attacks, charging Lincoln simultaneously with dictatorship and timidity. The Jacobins reacted as expected by taking the Secretary to their bosoms and p.r.o.nouncing him "one of us." Other praises came his way, less vigorous perhaps, but no less pleasant. "You have touched the national heart," a friend declared, while another, in a punning mood, wrote that he much preferred the "Simon pure" article in the Tribune Tribune to the "bogus" report in the to the "bogus" report in the World World. From Paris a member of the consulate, hearing of the dissension in the President's official family, wrote home asking: "Are Cameron and Fremont to be canonized as martyrs?"

Cameron might be canonized, at any rate by the antislavery radicals, but it did not appear that he would be martyred by anyone, least of all by Lincoln, who seemed to have learned a dearly bought lesson in martyring Fremont. The report had been published in mid-December, and now in January he still had made no further reference to the matter. Outwardly the relationship between the two men remained cordial, though Cameron still felt some inward qualms, perhaps because he sensed that Lincoln's measure was not so easily taken. The thing had gone too too well. well.

Then on January 11, a Sat.u.r.day-the date of the second of the three conferences with McDowell and Franklin, none of which Cameron had been urged to attend, despite his position as Secretary of War-he learned that he had been right to feel qualms. He received a brief note in which Lincoln informed him curtly, out of the blue: "I...propose nominating you to the Senate next Monday as Minister to Russia." Almost literally, he was being banished to Siberia for his sins.

The sins were political, and as a politician he could appreciate the justice of his punishment. He suffered anguish, though, at the manner in which it was inflicted. To be rebuked thus in a brief note, he complained, "meant personal as well as political destruction." So Lincoln, who cared little for the manner of his going, just so he went, agreed that Cameron might antedate a letter of resignation, to which he would reply with a letter of acceptance expressing his "affectionate esteem" and "undiminished confidence" in the Secretary's "ability, patriotism, and fidelity to the public trust." It was done accordingly and Cameron's name was sent to Congress for confirmation as Minister to Russia. There, however, he encountered opposition, not only from members of his own party, the Democrats, but also from some of the radical Republicans who so lately had cl.u.s.tered round him and proclaimed him "one of us." At last the nomination was put through; Cameron was on his way to St Petersburg, having earned not martyrdom and canonization, as some had hoped or feared, but banishment and damage to a reputation already considered shaky. One senator, a former colleague, remarked on his departure: "Ugh! ugh! Send word to the Czar to bring in his things of nights."

In this case Lincoln engaged in no fruitless search for "somebody" to replace him. The somebody was ready and very much at hand: Edwin McMasters Stanton, who as his predecessor's legal adviser had helped to charge and fuse the bomb that blew him out of the War Department and the Cabinet, while Stanton himself was sucked into the resultant vacuum and sat ensconced as successor before all the bits of wreckage had hit the ground. Whether he had proceeded with malice aforethought in this instance was not known; but it was not unthinkable. Stanton had done devious things in his time. A corporation lawyer, he delighted also in taking criminal cases when these were challenging and profitable enough. His fees were large and when one prospective client protested, Stanton asked: "Do you think I would argue the wrong side for less?" For a murder defense he once took as his fee the accused man's only possession, the house he lived in. When he had won the case and was about to convert the mortgage into cash, the man tried to persuade him to hold off, saying that he would be ruined by the foreclosure. "You deserve to be ruined," Stanton told him, "for you were guilty."

And yet there was another side to him, too, offsetting the savagery, the joy he took in fixing a frightened general or pet.i.tioner with the baleful glare of his black little near-sighted eyes behind small, thicklensed, oval spectacles. He was a bundle of contradictions, his father a New Englander, his mother a Virginian. In private, the forty-seven-year-old lawyer sometimes put his face in his hands and wept from the strain, and if his secretary happened in at such a time he would say, "Not now, please. Not now." He was asthmatic, something of a hysteric as well, and he had more than a touch of morbidity in his nature. His bushy hair was thinning at the front, but he made up for this by letting it grow long at the back and sides. His upper lip he kept clean-shaven to expose a surprisingly sensitive mouth-a reminder that he had been considered handsome in his youth-while below his lower lip a broad streak of iron-gray ran down the center of his wide black beard. His body was thick-set, bouncy on short but energetic legs. His voice, which was deep in times of calm, rose to piercing shrillness in excitement. One pet.i.tioner, badly shaken by the experience, described a Stanton interview by saying, "He came at me like a tiger."

He came at many people like a tiger, especially at those in his Department who showed less devotion to work than he himself did. Soon after he took office he received from Harpers Ferry an urgent call for heavy guns. He ordered them sent at once. Going by the locked a.r.s.enal after hours, he learned that the guns were still there: whereupon he ordered the gates broken open, helped the watchmen drag the guns out, and saw them loaded onto a north-bound train. Next morning the a.r.s.enal officer reported that he had not found it convenient to ship the guns the day before; he would get them off this morning, he said. "The guns are now at Harpers Ferry!" Stanton barked. "And you, sir, are no longer in the service of the United States Government."

He would engage in no secret deals. Whoever came to him on business, as for instance seeking a contract, was required to make his request in the sight and hearing of all. Stanton would snap out a Yes or No, then wave him on to make way for the next pet.i.tioner. He did not care whose toes he stepped on; "Individuals are nothing," he declared. To a man who came demanding release for a friend locked up on suspicion of treason, Stanton roared: "If I tap that little bell, I can send you you to a place where you will never hear the dogs bark. And by heaven I'll do it if you say another word!" He brought to the War Department a boundless and bounding energy. "As soon as I can get the machinery of the office working, the rats cleared out, and the rat holes stopped," he told an a.s.sistant, "we shall to a place where you will never hear the dogs bark. And by heaven I'll do it if you say another word!" He brought to the War Department a boundless and bounding energy. "As soon as I can get the machinery of the office working, the rats cleared out, and the rat holes stopped," he told an a.s.sistant, "we shall move." move." Lincoln himself was by no means exempt from Stanton's scorn. Asked when he took office, "What will you do?": "Do?..." he replied. "I will make Abe Lincoln President of the United States." Lincoln himself was by no means exempt from Stanton's scorn. Asked when he took office, "What will you do?": "Do?..." he replied. "I will make Abe Lincoln President of the United States."

The government could use such a man, despite his idiosyncrasies, his sudden judgments and hostile att.i.tude. So could Lincoln use him in his official family, despite the abuse he knew that Stanton had been heaping on him since they first met in Cincinnati, when the big-time lawyer referred to the country one as "that long-armed creature." More recently he had been employing circus epithets; "the original gorilla," he called him, "a low, cunning clown," and "that giraffe." Lincoln knew of some of this, but he still thought he could use him-provided he could handle him. And he believed he could. Stanton's prancing and bouncing, he said, put him in mind of a Methodist preacher out West who got so wrought up in his prayers and exhortations that his congregation was obliged to put bricks in his pockets to hold him down. "We may have to serve Stanton the same way," Lincoln drawled. "But I guess we'll let him jump a while first."

The bricks were applied much sooner than anyone expected. One day the President was busy with a roomful of people and Stanton came hurrying through the doorway, clutching a sheet of paper in his hand. "Mr President," he cried, "this order cannot be signed. I refuse to sign it!" Lincoln told him calmly, "Mr Secretary, I guess that order will have to be signed." In the hush that followed, the two men's eyes met. Then Stanton turned, still with the order in his hand, and went back to his office and signed it.

Whether or not McClellan could handle him, too, was one of the things that remained to be seen. At the outset, the general had good cause to believe that the change in War Department heads would work to his advantage. For on the evening of January 13-the one on which he rose from his sickbed to confront the men who had been conferring behind his back-Stanton came by his quarters and informed him that his nomination as Secretary of War had gone to the Senate that afternoon. Personally, he went on to say, he considered the job a hardship, but the chance of working in close harness with his friend McClellan persuaded him to undergo the sacrifice involved. If the general would approve he would accept. McClellan did approve; he urged acceptance on those grounds. Two days later the nomination was confirmed. Stanton took the post the following day. And almost immediately, from that January 16 on, McClellan found the doors of the War Department barred to him. The Secretary, suddenly hostile, became at once the Young Napoleon's most outspoken critic. McClellan had been given another lesson in the perfidy of the human animal. One more had been added, at the top, to that "set of men...unscrupulous and false."

What he did not know was that, all this time, Stanton had been working both sides of the street. While his name was up for approval in the Senate, Charles Sumner was saying: "Mr Stanton, within my knowledge, is one of us." Ben Wade thought so, too. And on the day the new Secretary moved into office their opinion was confirmed. After saying that he was going to "make Abe Lincoln President," Stanton added that as the next order of business, "I will force this man McClellan to fight or throw up." Later that same day he said baldly, "This army has got to fight or run away. And while men are striving n.o.bly in the West, the champagne and oysters on the Potomac must be stopped."

Formerly he had run with the fox and hunted with the hounds. Now he was altogether with the latter. On January 20, at his own request, he appeared before the Joint Committee, and after the hearing its members were loud in his praise. "We are delighted with him," Julian of Indiana exclaimed. In the Senate, Fessenden of Maine announced: "He is just the man we want! We agree on every point: the duties of the Secretary of War, the conduct of the war, the Negro question and everything." In the Tribune Tribune Horace Greeley hailed him as the man who would know how to deal with "the greatest danger now facing the country-treason in Washington, treason in the army itself, especially the treason which wears the garb of Unionism." Horace Greeley hailed him as the man who would know how to deal with "the greatest danger now facing the country-treason in Washington, treason in the army itself, especially the treason which wears the garb of Unionism."

Treason was a much-used word these days. For Greeley to use it three times within a dependent clause was nothing rare. In fact it was indicative. The syllables had a sound that caught men's ears, overtones of enormity that went beyond such scarehead words as rape or arson or incest. Observing this, the radicals had made it their watchword, their cry in the night, expanding its definition in the process.

Many acts were treasonous now which had never been considered so before. Even a lack of action might be treason, according to these critics in long-skirted broadcloth coats. Delay, for instance: all who counseled delay were their special targets, along with those who favored something less than extermination for rebels. Obviously, the way to administer sudden death was to march out within musket range and bang away until the serpent Rebellion squirmed no more. And as a rallying cry this forthright logic was effective. Up till now the Administration's opposition had been no more than an incidental irritant. By mid-January of this second calendar year of the war, however, so many congressmen had discovered the popular value of pointing a trembling finger at "treason" in high places that their conglomerate, harping voice had grown into a force which had to be reckoned with as surely as the Confederates still intrenched around Mana.s.sas.

Lincoln the politician understood this perfectly. They were men with power, who knew how to use it ruthlessly, and as such they would have to be dealt with. McClellan the soldier could never see it at all, partly because he operated under the disadvantage of considering himself a gentleman. For him they were willful, evil men, "unscrupulous and false," and as such they should be ignored as beneath contempt, at least by him. He counted on Lincoln to keep them off his back: which Lincoln in fact had promised to do. "I intend to be careful and do as well as possible," McClellan had said. "Don't let them hurry me, is all I ask." And Lincoln had told him, "You shall have your own way in the matter, I a.s.sure you." Yet now he seemed to be breaking his promise to McClellan, just as he had broken his word to Fremont, whom he had told: "I have given you carte-blanche. You must use your own judgment, and do the best you can." Fremont had used his judgment, such as it was, and been flung aside. McClellan was discouraged.

That was something else he never understood: Lincoln himself. Some might praise him for being flexible, while others called him slippery, when in truth they were both two words for just one thing. To argue the point was to insist on a distinction that did not exist. Lincoln was out to win the war; and that was all he was out to do, for the present. Unfettered by any need for being or not being a gentleman, he would keep his word to any man only so long as keeping it would help to win the war. If keeping it meant otherwise, he broke it. He kept no promise, anyhow, any longer than the conditions under which it was given obtained. And if any one thing was clear in this time when treason had become a household word, it was that the conditions of three months ago no longer obtained. McClellan would have to go forward or go down.

On January 27, without consulting anyone-least of all McClellan-Lincoln himself composed and issued over his signature, as Commander in Chief of the nation's military forces, General War Order Number 1, in which he announced that a forward movement by all land and naval units would be launched on February 22, to celebrate Washington's Birthday and also, presumably, to disrupt the Confederate inaugural in Richmond. It was not a suggestion, or even a directive. It was a peremptory order, and as such it stated that all commanders afield or afloat would "severally be held to their strict and full responsibilities" for its "prompt execution." Lest there be any misunderstanding as to whether this applied to the general-in-chief and his army around Washington, Lincoln supplemented this with a Special Order four days later, directing that on or before the date announced an expedition would move out from the capital, leaving whatever force would insure the city's safety, and seize a point on the railroad "southwestward of...Mana.s.sas Junction."

McClellan was aghast. He had counted on the President to keep the hot-eyed amateurs off his back: yet here, by a sudden and seemingly gleeful leap, Lincoln had landed there himself, joining the others in an all-out game of pile-on. Besides, committed as he was to the Urbanna Plan for loading his army on transports, taking it down the Potomac and up the Rappahannock for a landing in Johnston's rear, the last thing he wanted now was any movement that might alarm the enemy at Mana.s.sas into scurrying back to safety. So he went to Lincoln and outlined for the first time in some detail the plan which would be spoiled by any immediate "forward" movement. Lincoln did not like it. It would endanger Washington, he said, in case the rebels tried a quick pounce while the Federal army was making its roundabout boat-trip to Urbanna. McClellan then asked if he could submit in writing his objections to the President's plan and his reasons for favoring his own. Lincoln said all right, go ahead. While the general was preparing his brief he received from Lincoln a set of questions, dated February 3: "Does not your plan involve a larger expenditure of time and money than mine? Wherein is a victory more certain by your plan than mine? Would it not be less valuable in that yours would not break a great line of the enemy's communications, while mine would? In case of disaster, would it not be more difficult to retreat by your plan than mine?"

In asking these questions Lincoln was meeting McClellan on his own ground, and McClellan answered him accordingly, professionally ticking off the flaws in Lincoln's plan and pointing up the strong points of his own. At best, he declared, the former would result in nothing more than a barren and costly victory which would leave still harder battles to be fought all the way to Richmond, each time against an enemy who would have retired to a prepared defensive position, while the Federal supply lines stretched longer and more vulnerable with every doubtful success: whereas the latter, striking at the vitals of the Confederacy, would maneuver Johnston out of his formidable Bull Run intrenchments by requiring him to turn in defense of his capital and give battle wherever McClellan chose to fight him, with control of all Virginia in the balance. Supply lines would run by water, which meant that they would be secure, and in event of the disaster which Lincoln seemed to fear, the army could retreat down the York-James peninsula, an area which afforded plenty of opportunity for maneuver because, "the soil [being] sandy," the roads were "pa.s.sable at all seasons of the year." Nor was this all. Besides its other advantages, he wrote, his plan had a flexibility which the other lacked entirely. If for some reason Urbanna proved undesirable, the landing could be made at Mob jack Bay or Fortress Monroe, though admittedly this last would be "less brilliant." As for the question as to whether victory was more certain by the roundabout route, the general reminded his chief that "nothing is certain in war." However, he added, "all the chances are in favor of this project." If Lincoln would give him the go-ahead, along with a little more time to get ready, "I regard success as certain by all the chances of war."

There Lincoln had it. In submitting the questions he had said, "If you will give me satisfactory answers...I shall gladly yield my plan to yours." Now that the Young Napoleon had given them, Lincoln yielded; but not gladly. Though he liked McClellan's plan better now that the general had taken him into his confidence and explained it in detail, he was still worried about what Johnston's army-better than 100,000 men, according to the Pinkerton reports-might do while McClellan's was in transit. Confederates in Washington might win foreign recognition for their government, and with it independence. However, since McClellan had come out so flatly in favor of his own plan and in rejection of the other, Lincoln had no choice except to fire him or sustain him. And that in fact was no choice at all. To fire Little Mac would be to risk demoralizing the Army of the Potomac on the eve of great exertions. All the same, Lincoln did not rescind the order for an advance on the 22d. He merely agreed not to require its execution.

Whereupon the radicals returned to the charge, furious that their demands had gone unheeded. Lincoln held them off as best he could, but they were strident and insistent. "For G.o.d's sake, at least push back the defiant traitors!" Wade still cried. Lincoln saw that something had to be done to appease them-perhaps by clearing the lower Potomac of enemy batteries, or else by reopening the B & O supply line west of Harpers Ferry. Either would be at least a sop to throw the growlers. So he went again to McClellan: who explained once more that the rebels along the lower Potomac were just where he wanted them to be when he made his Urbanna landing in their rear, forcing them thus to choose between flight and capture. It would be much better to have them there, he said, than back on the Rappahannock contesting his debarkation. Lincoln was obliged to admit that as logic this had force.

As for the reopening of the B & O, McClellan remarked that he had it in mind already. What he wanted to avoid was another Ball's Bluff or anything resembling the fiasco which had resulted from making a river crossing without a way to get back in event of repulse. He was bringing up from downriver a fleet of ca.n.a.l boats which could be lashed together to bridge the upper Potomac. Across this newfangled but highly practical device he would throw a force for repairing and protecting the railroad, a force that would be exempt from disaster because its line of retreat would be secure. Lincoln liked the notion and was delighted that something at last was about to be done. Then came word from McClellan that the project had had to be abandoned because the boats turned out to be six inches too wide for the lift-locks at Harpers Ferry. Once more Lincoln was cast down, his expectations dashed, and Secretary Chase, a solemn, indeed a pompous man, got off his one joke of the war. The campaign had died, he said, of lockjaw.

Washington's Birthday came and went, and the Army of the Potomac remained in its training camps, still awaiting the day when its commander decided that the time had come for it to throw the roundhouse left designed to knock Virginia out of the war. In the West, meanwhile, Thomas had counterpunched Crittenden clean out of East Kentucky, and Grant had delivered to Sidney Johnston's solar plexus the one-two combination that sent him reeling, all the way from Bowling Green to northern Alabama. Burnside, down in North Carolina, had rabbit-punched Huger and Wise, and even now was following up with a series of successes. Everywhere, boldness had been crowned with success: everywhere, that was, except in Virginia, where boldness was unknown.

Stanton could see the moral plainly enough, and when Greeley came out with an editorial praising the new Secretary and giving him chief credit for the victories-he had been in office exactly a month on the day Fort Donelson fell-Stanton replied with a letter that was printed in the Tribune Tribune, declining the praise and making a quick back-thrust at McClellan in the process: "Much has been said recently of military combinations and 'organizing victory.' I hear such phrases with apprehension. They commenced in infidel France with the Italian campaign, and resulted in Waterloo. Who can organize victory? We owe our recent victories to the spirit of the Lord, that moved our soldiers to rush into battle and filled the hearts of our enemies with terror and dismay.... We may well rejoice at the recent victories, for they teach that battles are to be won now, and by us, in the same and only manner that they were ever won by any people, since the days of Joshua-by boldly pursuing and striking the foe. What, under the blessing of Providence, I conceive to be the true organization of victory and military combinations to win this war was declared in a few words by General Grant's message to General Buckner: 'I propose to move immediately upon your works.'"

Lincoln, too, could praise Grant and the Lord for victories in the West, but the news came at a time when there was sickness in the house and, presently, sorrow. Robert was at Harvard; "one of those rare-ripe sort," his father called him once, "that are smarter at about five than ever after." It was Willie, the middle son and his mother's favorite, who was the studious member of the family; Tad, the youngest, could still neither read nor write at the age of nine. Now Willie lay sick with what the doctor said was "bilious fever." He got better, then worse, then suddenly much worse, until one afternoon Lincoln came into the room where one of his secretaries lay half-asleep on a couch. "Well, Nicolay," he said, "my boy is gone. He is actually gone!" And then, as if having spoken the words aloud had brought their reality home to him, he broke into tears and left.

Hard as it was for Lincoln to absorb the shock in this time of strain, the blow was even harder on his wife. All her life she had been ambitious, but in her ambition she had looked forward more to the pleasures than to the trials of being First Lady-only to discover, once the place was hers, that the tribulations far outnumbered the joys. In Richmond, Varina Davis could overlook, or anyhow seem to overlook, being referred to as "a coa.r.s.e Western woman," which was false. Mary Lincoln could not weather half so well being criticized for "putting on airs," which was true. A fading Kentucky belle, she clung to her gentility, already sorely tried by two decades of marriage with a man who, whatever his political attainments, liked to sit around the house in slippers and shirtsleeves. She punctuated her conversation with "sir" and spent a great deal of money on dresses and bonnets and new furnishings for the antiquated White House. Washington was not what she had expected, its former social grace having largely departed with the southern-mannered hostesses whose positions had been taken over by Republican ladies whose chief virtues were not social.

Yet these disappointments were by no means the worst she had to bear. Her loyalty was undivided, but the same could not be said of her family, which had split badly over the issues that split Kentucky and the nation. A brother and a half-sister stayed with the Union; another brother and three half-brothers went with the South, while three half-sisters were married to Confederates. This division of her family, together with her Bluegra.s.s manner, caused critics to say that she was "two-thirds slavery and the other third secesh." The rumors were enlarged as the war continued. The President's enemies sought to make political capital with a whispering campaign, accusing Mrs Lincoln of specific acts of treason, which at last reached such proportions that the matter was taken up by a congressional investigating committee. One morning her husband came unexpectedly into one of its secret sessions to announce in a sad voice: "I, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, appear of my own volition before this committee of the Senate to say that I, of my own knowledge, know that it is untrue that any of my family hold treasonable communication with the enemy."

That removed her from the reach of the committee, but it did not spare her the ridicule being heaped upon her almost daily in the opposition papers, which struck at the husband through the wife. And now, with all this burden on her, to lose her favorite child was altogether more than she could bear. She wept grievously and was often in hysterics. She could neither accept nor reject her sorrow, and between the two she lost her mental balance. Lincoln had Tad, whom he took more and more for his own and even slept with. He had, too, the daylong, sometimes night-long occupation of running the country. She had nothing, not even Lincoln: who did not help matters by leading her one day to a window and pointing to the lunatic asylum as he said, "Mother, do you see that large white building on the hill yonder? Try and control your grief, or it will drive you mad and we may have to send you there."

A distracted wife was one among the many problems Lincoln faced. His main problem was still McClellan. During the weeks since the general first outlined the Urbanna plan, much of what he called its brilliance had worn off, at least for Lincoln, who still had fears that it would expose the capital to capture. Again he told McClellan his doubts, and once more McClellan sought to allay them, this time by proposing to submit the plan to his twelve division commanders for a professional decision. They a.s.sembled March 8, many of them hearing details of the plan for the first time. When the vote was taken they favored it, eight to four, and repaired in a body to the White House to announce the result to the President, whose objections thus were effectively spiked again. As he told Stanton, who shared his mistrust, "We can do nothing else than accept their plan and discard all others.... We can't reject it and adopt another without a.s.suming all the responsibility in the case of the failure of the one we adopt."

One thing he could do, and did, that same day. The members of the Joint Committee had called on him the week before with a plan for reorganizing the Army of the Potomac into corps. This, they saw, would not only gain prestige for certain generals who had their favor-McDowell, for example-but would weaken McClellan's authority as general-in-chief, since, as the committeemen saw it, corps commanders would take orders directly from Stanton. Lincoln saw other merits in the plan. For one thing it would simplify the transmission of orders and lessen the burden on the Young Napoleon. Besides, he was anxious to placate Wade and the others wherever he could. When he went to McClellan, however, to urge that it be effected and to get the general's recommendations for the appointments, McClellan told him that he had already thought it over and had decided that it would be best to wait until all the division commanders had been tested in combat before making his recommendations. Once more Lincoln had been shown that he would lose in any face-to-face encounter with the general over military logic. So the following week, when he decided to act on the matter, he did so without consulting McClellan. Later that day, after having reported their vote on the Urbanna plan, the division commanders learned that four of their number had been appointed to corps command: McDowell, E. V. Sumner, S. P. Heintzelman, and E. D. Keyes. Notification came in the form of a paper headed "President's General War Order Number 2."

Whatever elation this doc.u.ment produced in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the men thus elevated, it came as a terrible shock to McClellan, even though the earlier General War Order's being numbered had indicated that there might well be others. The shock was mainly due to the fact that among the four who were raised to corps command-and would therefore have the princ.i.p.al responsibility, under McClellan himself, for executing the Urbanna plan-three had voted against it in the balloting that morning. The officers he wanted had been held back. Franklin, for instance, who had spoken in favor of the sea route at the conference held while McClellan was in bed with fever, was not appointed, nor were any of the others among his proteges; "gentlemen and Democrats," he called them, who thought of war and politics as he did. He felt himself hobbled at the outset, held in check by a high council of Republicans friendly toward the enemies who were working for his ruin.

If he had ever doubted that they were out to wreck him, any such doubts had been dispelled during the early morning hours of that same busy March 8. He learned of whispered charges, touching his honor as a soldier, and he learned of them from Lincoln himself, who had sent for him to come over to the White House after breakfast. As McClellan told it later, he found the President looking worried; there was "a very ugly matter," Lincoln said, which needed airing. Again he hesitated, and McClellan, seated opposite, suggested that perhaps it would be best to come right out with it. Well, Lincoln said, choosing his words cautiously at first, there was an ugly rumor going round, to the effect that the Urbanna plan "was conceived with the traitorous intent of removing its defenders from Washington, and thus giving over to the enemy the capital and the government, thus left defenseless." He added that the whole thing had a sound and look of treason.

The word was out, and it brought McClellan straight up out of his chair, declaring that he would "permit no one to couple the word treason with my name," and demanding an immediate retraction. No, no, Lincoln said hastily; he did not believe a word of it; he was only repeating what had been told him. Somewhat calmer, McClellan suggested "caution in the use of language," and reemphasized that he could "permit no doubt to be thrown upon my intentions." Lincoln again apologized, and let the matter go at that. McClellan left to round up his division commanders for a vote that would prove that the proposed campaign was militarily sound, then brought them back to announce their eight-to-four support in Lincoln's presence.

As far as McClellan was concerned, that settled it. He had shown him, once and for all. But then, as soon as he turned his back, War Order 2 came dropping onto his desk, and he was upset all over again. The day had opened with charges of treason and closed with the appointment of unsympathetic officers to head the corps of the army he was about to take into battle. As he saw it, Lincoln had gone over to the scoundrels, bag and baggage; or, in McClellan's words, "the effects of the intrigues by which he had been surrounded became apparent."

He did not see, then or ever, that he had helped to bring all this trouble on himself by not taking Lincoln into his confidence sooner. And if he had seen it, the seeing would not have made the end result any easier to abide; McClellan was never one to find ease in admission of blame. Nor did he see that Lincoln had not called him to the White House merely to insult him by repeating ugly rumors, that what he was really trying to tell him was that Wade and the others were powerful and vindictive men who would hurt him all they could, and with him the cause, if they were not dealt with in some manner that would take some of the pressure off their anger: whereas the Young Napoleon, who had been before them and heard them accuse him of cowardice, was determined to yield them not a single military inch of the solid ground he stood on. Whatever they took from him they must take by force, with Lincoln's help. Already they had taken much, including his trust of Lincoln, and he could see that they were after more, with an excellent chance of getting it.

Present troubles were grief enough; but as if they were not, there was added, the following morning, news of what had happened at Hampton Roads on the afternoon of that same crowded Sat.u.r.day, March 8. A single Confederate ten-gun vessel, steaming out of Norfolk on what had been planned as a trial run, made obsolete the navies of the world. Between noon and sunset of that one day, the strange craft-which resembled, some said, "a terrapin with a chimney on its back"-served graphic notice that the proud tall frigates and ships of the line, with their billowing sails and high wooden sides that could flash out hundred-gun salvos, would soon be gone in all their beauty and obsolescence.

She herself had been one of them, once: the 350-ton, forty-gun U.S. steam frigate Merrimac Merrimac, burned and scuttled in her berth when the Union forces abandoned Gosport Navy Yard the previous spring. She sank so quickly her hull and engines were saved from the fire, and Lieutenant John M. Brooke, C.S.N., went to Secretary Mallory with a plan for converting her into a seagoing ironclad, wherewith the tightening Federal blockade might be lifted. Mallory approving, she was plugged, pumped out, and raised, the salt mud swabbed out of her engines and her hull cut down to the water's edge. While some workers were attaching a four-foot iron ram-beak to her prow, others were building amidships a slope-walled structure, 130 feet long and seven feet tall, in which to house her guns, two 6- and two 7-inch rifles and six 9-inch smoothbores, the two lightest pieces being bound at the breech with iron hoops, shrunk on like the tires on wagon wheels, to strengthen them for firing extra-heavy powder charges: another Brooke innovation. Finally, they covered her all over, down to two feet below the waterline, with overlapping plates of two-inch armor rolled from railroad iron at the Tredegar Works in Richmond. She was finished. What she lacked in looks, and she was totally lacking there, she made up for in her ability to give and take a pounding.

However, she had faults more serious than her ugliness: faults which caused head-shakings and predictions that she would be "an enormous metallic burial-case" for her crew. For one, the weight of all that iron made her squat so low in the water, 22 feet, that she had to confine her movements to deep-water channels. Not that she was much at maneuvering in the first place; "unwieldy as Noah's ark," one of her officers called her. Her top speed was five knots, and what with her great length and awkward steering, it took half an hour to turn her in calm water. This was mainly because of her wheezy, antiquated engines, which had been condemned on the Merrimac' Merrimac's last cruise and had scarcely been improved by the fire and the months of immersion. Nevertheless, Mallory and her builders expected great things of her: nothing less, in fact, than the raising of the blockade by the destruction of whatever attempted to enforce it. They renamed her the Virginia Virginia, recruited a large part of her 300-man crew from the army, and placed her in the charge of Commodore Franklin Buchanan, the sixty-two-year-old "Father of Annapolis," so called because, under the old flag, he had been instrumental in founding the Naval Academy and had served as its first superintendent. Some measure of Mallory's expectations of the Virginia Virginia was shown by the fact that he had given command of her to the ranking man in the whole Confederate navy. was shown by the fact that he had given command of her to the ranking man in the whole Confederate navy.

When she steamed down Elizabeth River on her trial run at noon that Sat.u.r.day, her inherent faults-low speed, deep draft, and sluggish handling-were immediately apparent. Her guns had not yet been fired, and workmen still swarmed over her superstructure, making last-minute adjustments. But as she came in sight of open water, Buchanan saw across the Roads five warships of the blockade squadron lying at anchor, three off Fort Monroe and two off Newport News. The three were the Minnesota Minnesota and the and the Roanoke Roanoke, sister ships of the Merrimac Merrimac, and the fifty-gun frigate St Lawrence St Lawrence. The two were the Congress Congress, another fifty-gun frigate, and the thirty-gun sloop c.u.mberland c.u.mberland. It was more than the commodore could resist. He hove-to off Craney Island, sent the workmen ash.o.r.e, cleared the Virginia' Virginia's decks for action, and set out north across the Roads with his crew at battle stations. The "trial run" would be just that-all-out.

On the southern sh.o.r.e, from Willoughby Spit to Ragged Island, gray-clad infantry and artillerymen lined the beaches. They saw his intention and tossed their caps, cheering and singing "Dixie." Across the water, from Old Point Comfort westward, men in blue observed it too, but with mixed emotions. They had heard that this strange new thing was being built, and now they saw her coming slowly toward them. To an Indiana volunteer, watching her across five miles of water, she "looked very much like a house submerged to the eaves, borne onward by a flood."

It was washday aboard the Federal warships, sailor clothes drying in the rigging. Yet there was plenty of time in which to get ready for what was coming so slowly at them. The Congress Congress and the and the c.u.mberland c.u.mberland cleared for action, and when the cleared for action, and when the Virginia Virginia came within range, the former gave her a well-aimed broadside: which broke against the sloping iron with no apparent effect at all. Ports closed tight, she came on, biding her time as she closed the range, unperturbed and inexorable. Another salvo struck her, together with shots from the coastal batteries: with no more effect than before. Then her ports came open, swinging deliberately upward on their hinges to expose the muzzles of her guns. Turning, she raked the came within range, the former gave her a well-aimed broadside: which broke against the sloping iron with no apparent effect at all. Ports closed tight, she came on, biding her time as she closed the range, unperturbed and inexorable. Another salvo struck her, together with shots from the coastal batteries: with no more effect than before. Then her ports came open, swinging deliberately upward on their hinges to expose the muzzles of her guns. Turning, she raked the Congress Congress with a starboard broadside and rammed the with a starboard broadside and rammed the c.u.mberland c.u.mberland at near right-angles just under her fore rigging, punching a hole which one of her officers said would admit "a horse and cart"-except for the iron beak which broke off in her when the Confederate swung clear. The at near right-angles just under her fore rigging, punching a hole which one of her officers said would admit "a horse and cart"-except for the iron beak which broke off in her when the Confederate swung clear. The c.u.mberland c.u.mberland began to fill, firing as long as a gun remained above water. Called on to surrender, her captain shouted, "Never! I'll sink alongside!" began to fill, firing as long as a gun remained above water. Called on to surrender, her captain shouted, "Never! I'll sink alongside!"

Presently he did just that, his flag still flying from the mainmast, defiant above the waves after the ship herself struck bottom. Horrified, the captain of the Congress Congress slipped his cable and tried to get away before the ironclad could complete its ponderous turn, but ran aground in the attempt. The slipped his cable and tried to get away before the ironclad could complete its ponderous turn, but ran aground in the attempt. The Virginia Virginia, held at 200-yard range by her deeper draft, raked the helpless ship from end to end until, her captain dead and her scuppers running red with blood, a lieutenant ran up the white flag of surrender.

Buchanan ceased firing and stood by to take on prisoners, but the coastal batteries redoubled their fire under command of Brigadier General Joseph K. Mansfield, West Point '22. When one of his own officers protested that the enemy had the right to take possession unmolested once the Congress Congress struck her flag, the crusty old regular replied, "I know the d.a.m.ned ship has surrendered, but struck her flag, the crusty old regular replied, "I know the d.a.m.ned ship has surrendered, but we we haven't!" Two Confederate lieutenants were killed in this unexpected burst of artillery and musketry, and Buchanan himself was wounded. So were many of the Union sailors on the decks of the surrendered ship-including Buchanan's brother, a lieutenant who had stayed with the old flag and who presently died in the flames on the quarterdeck when the haven't!" Two Confederate lieutenants were killed in this unexpected burst of artillery and musketry, and Buchanan himself was wounded. So were many of the Union sailors on the decks of the surrendered ship-including Buchanan's brother, a lieutenant who had stayed with the old flag and who presently died in the flames on the quarterdeck when the Virginia Virginia dropped back and retaliated by setting the dropped back and retaliated by setting the Congress Congress afire with red-hot cannonb.a.l.l.s that started fires wherever they struck wood. afire with red-hot cannonb.a.l.l.s that started fires wherever they struck wood.

By now the three frigates off Old Point Comfort had started west to join the fight. Hugging the northern sh.o.r.e to avoid the rebel guns on Sewell's Point, however, the Roanoke Roanoke and the and the St Lawrence St Lawrence ran aground, and presently the ran aground, and presently the Minnesota Minnesota, left alone to deal with the iron monster, did likewise. It was well for her that it happened so, for the Virginia Virginia, having finished with the Congress Congress, turned to deal with her erstwhile sister ship and found that, the tide being on the ebb, she could not come within effective range. So she drew off across the Roads to unload her wounded, survey her damage, and wait for the flooding of the tide tomorrow morning, when she intended to complete this first day's work by sinking the three grounded frigates.

Her 21 killed and wounded, including Buchanan, were removed, after which the officers surveyed the effects of the fight on the ship herself. The damage, though considerable, was not vital. In spite of having been exposed to the concentrated fire of at least one hundred guns, her armor showed only dents, no cracks, and nothing inside the sh.e.l.l was hurt. Outside was another matter. She had lost her iron beak, and two of her guns had had their muzzles blown off; besides which, one of her crew later wrote, "one anchor, the smoke-stack, and the steam pipes were shot away. Railings, stanchions, boat-davits, everything was swept clean."

All this seemed a small enough price to pay for the victory they had won that afternoon and the one they had prepared for completion tomorrow. Officers and men stayed up on deck, too elated to sleep, and watched the Congress Congress burn. She lit up the Roads from across the way and paled the second-quarter moon, which came up early. From time to time, another of her loaded guns went off with a deep reverberant boom, but the big effect did not come until 1 o'clock in the morning, when her magazine blew up. After that, the Confederate crew turned in to get some sleep. Ash.o.r.e, a Georgia private, writing home of the sea battle he had watched, exulted that the burn. She lit up the Roads from across the way and paled the second-quarter moon, which came up early. From time to time, another of her loaded guns went off with a deep reverberant boom, but the big effect did not come until 1 o'clock in the morning, when her magazine blew up. After that, the Confederate crew turned in to get some sleep. Ash.o.r.e, a Georgia private, writing home of the sea battle he had watched, exulted that the Virginia Virginia had "invented a new way of destroying the blockade. Instead of raising it, she sinks it. Or I believe she is good at both," he added, "for the one she burned was raised to a pretty considerable height when the magazine exploded." had "invented a new way of destroying the blockade. Instead of raising it, she sinks it. Or I believe she is good at both," he added, "for the one she burned was raised to a pretty considerable height when the magazine exploded."

A telegram reached Washington from Fort Monroe within two hours of the explosion of the Congress Congress, informing the War Department that the Confederates' indestructible "floating battery" had sunk two frigates and would sink three more tomorrow before moving against the fortress itself-after which there was no telling what might happen.

Lincoln had his cabinet in session by 6.30, the prevailing gloom being broken only by the Secretary of War, who put on for his colleagues a remarkable display of jangled nerves. The jaunty Seward was glum for once; Chase was petulant; the President himself seemed quite unstrung; but Stanton was unquestionably the star of the piece. According to Welles, who did not like him, he was "inexpressibly ludicrous" with his "wild, frantic talk, action, and rage" as he "sat down and jumped up...swung his arms, scolded and raved." The Virginia Virginia would "change the whole character of the war," the lawyer-statesman cried. "She will destroy, would "change the whole character of the war," the lawyer-statesman cried. "She will destroy, seriatim seriatim, every naval vessel; she will lay all the cities on the seaboard under contribution." He would recall Burnside, abandon Port Royal, and "notify the governors and munic.i.p.al authorities in the North to take instant measures to protect their harbors." Then, crossing to a window which commanded a long view of the Potomac, he looked out and, trembling visibly, exclaimed: "Not unlikely, we shall have a sh.e.l.l or a cannonball from one of her guns in the White House before we leave this room."

Welles, who recorded with pride that his own "composure was not disturbed," replied that Stanton's fear for his personal safety was unfounded, since the heavily armored vessel would surely draw too much water to permit her pa.s.sage of Kettle Bottom Shoals; he doubted, in fact, that she would venture outside the Capes. This afforded at least a measure of relief for the a.s.sembly. Besides, Welles said, the navy already had an answer to the rebel threat: a seagoing ironclad of its own. Monitor Monitor was her name. She had left New York on Thursday, and should have reached Hampton Roads last night. "How many guns does she carry?" Stanton asked. Two, the Naval Secretary told him, and Stanton responded with a look which, according to Welles, combined "amazement, contempt, and distress." was her name. She had left New York on Thursday, and should have reached Hampton Roads last night. "How many guns does she carry?" Stanton asked. Two, the Naval Secretary told him, and Stanton responded with a look which, according to Welles, combined "amazement, contempt, and distress."

The gray-bearded brown-wigged Welles spoke truly. The Monitor Monitor had arrived the night before. She had not only arrived; she was engaged this Sunday morning, before the cabinet adjourned to pray in church for the miracle which Stanton said was all that could save the eastern seaboard. And in truth it was something like a miracle that she was there at all. Coming south she had run into a storm that broke waves over her, down her blower-pipes and stacks, flooding her hold; pumps were rigged to fight a losing battle-and the wind went down, just as the ship was about to do the same. The fact was, she had not been built to stand much weather. She was built almost exclusively for what she was about to do: engage the former had arrived the night before. She had not only arrived; she was engaged this Sunday morning, before the cabinet adjourned to pray in church for the miracle which Stanton said was all that could save the eastern seaboard. And in truth it was something like a miracle that she was there at all. Coming south she had run into a storm that broke waves over her, down her blower-pipes and stacks, flooding her hold; pumps were rigged to fight a losing battle-and the wind went down, just as the ship was about to do the same. The fact was, she had not been built to stand much weather. She was built almost exclusively for what she was about to do: engage the former Merrimac Merrimac, rumors of which had been coming north ever since work on the rebel craft began in mid-July.

There was a New York Swede, John Ericsson, who thought he had the answer, but when he went before the naval board with his plan for "an impregnable steam-battery of light draft," the members told him that calculations of her displacement proved the proposed Monitor Monitor would not float. He persisted, however; "The sea shall ride over her, and she will live in it like a duck," he said; until at last they offered him a contract with a clause providing for refund of all the money if she was not as invulnerable as he claimed. Ericsson took them up on that and got to work. Her keel was laid in October, three months behind the beginning of work on her rival, and she was launched within one hundred days. would not float. He persisted, however; "The sea shall ride over her, and she will live in it like a duck," he said; until at last they offered him a contract with a clause providing for refund of all the money if she was not as invulnerable as he claimed. Ericsson took them up on that and got to work. Her keel was laid in October, three months behind the beginning of work on her rival, and she was launched within one hundred days.

As Welles had said, she had only two guns; but they were hard-hitting 11-inch rifles, housed in a revolving turret (another Ericsson invention) which gave them the utility of many times that number, though it caused the vessel to be sneered at as "a tin can on a shingle" or "a cheese-box on a raft." Her armor was nine inches thick in critical locations, and nowhere less than five, which would give her an advantage over her thinner-skinned opponent. The factors that made her truly the David to meet Goliath, however, were her 12-foot draft and her high maneuverability, which would combine her heavy punch with light fast footwork. Her sixty-man crew, men-of-war's men all, had volunteered directly from the fleet, and "a better one no naval commander ever had the honor to command," her captain said. His name was John L. Worden, a forty-four-year-old lieutenant with twenty-eight years in the service. He had been given the a.s.signment-admittedly no plum-after seven months in a rebel prison, the result of having been captured back in April while trying to return from delivering secret messages to the Pensacola squadron. Obviously he was a man for desperate ventures, and perhaps the Department heads believed his months in durance would make him extra-anxious to hit back at the people who had held him. If they thought so, they were right. Nine days after the Monitor Monitor was commissioned he took her south for Hampton Roads. was commissioned he took her south for Hampton Roads.

Having weathered the storm, Worden rounded Cape Henry near sundown Sat.u.r.day and heard guns booming twenty miles away. He guessed the cause and cleared for battle. But when he pa.s.sed the Rip Raps, just before moonrise, and proceeded up the brightly lighted roadstead-each wave-crest a-sparkle with reflections of the flame-wrapped Congress- Congress-all he saw of the Virginia Virginia was the damage she had done: one ship sunk, another burning, and three more run ingloriously aground. An account of what had happened quickly told him what to do. Believing the was the damage she had done: one ship sunk, another burning, and three more run ingloriously aground. An account of what had happened quickly told him what to do. Believing the Virginia Virginia would head first for her next morning, he put the would head first for her next morning, he put the Monitor Monitor alongside the alongside the Minnesota Minnesota, kept his steam up, and waited.

Dawn came and at 7.30 he saw the big rebel ironclad coming straight for his stranded charge: whereupon he lifted anchor, darted out from behind the screening bulk of the frigate, and steamed forward to the attack. The Monitor' Monitor's sudden appearance was as unexpected as if she had dropped from the sky or floated up from the harbor bottom, squarely between the Virginia Virginia and her intended prize. "I guess she took us for some kind of a water tank," one of the and her intended prize. "I guess she took us for some kind of a water tank," one of the Monitor Monitor crewmen later said. "You can see surprise in a ship just as you can see it in a man, and there was surprise all over the crewmen later said. "You can see surprise in a ship just as you can see it in a man, and there was surprise all over the Merrimac." Merrimac."

He was right, or almost right. Instead of a water tank, however, "We thought at first it was a raft on which one of the Minnesota' Minnesota's boilers was being taken to sh.o.r.e for repairs," a Virginia Virginia midshipman testified, "and when suddenly a shot was fired from her turret we imagined an accidental explosion of some kind had taken place on the raft." midshipman testified, "and when suddenly a shot was fired from her turret we imagined an accidental explosion of some kind had taken place on the raft."

This mistake was not for long. Rumors of work-in-progress had been trickling south as well as north, and the Monitor Monitor was recognized and saluted in her own right with a salvo which broke against her turret with as little effect as the ones that had shattered against the armored flanks of the was recognized and saluted in her own right with a salvo which broke against her turret with as little effect as the ones that had shattered against the armored flanks of the Virginia Virginia yesterday, when the superiority of iron over wood was first established. Now it was iron against iron. The yesterday, when the superiority of iron over wood was first established. Now it was iron against iron. The Monitor Monitor promptly returned the fire, swinging her two guns to bear in rapid succession. The fight was on. promptly returned the fire, swinging her two guns to bear in rapid succession. The fight was on.

It lasted four hours, not including a half-hour midway intermission, and what it mainly showed-in addition to its reinforcement of what one of them had proved the day before: that wooden navies were obsolete-was that neither could sink the other. The Monitor Monitor took full advantage of her higher speed and maneuverability, of her heavier, more flexible guns, and particularly of her lighter draft, which enabled her to draw off into the shallows for a breather where the other could not pursue. The took full advantage of her higher speed and maneuverability, of her heavier, more flexible guns, and particularly of her lighter draft, which enabled her to draw off into the shallows for a breather where the other could not pursue. The Virginia' Virginia's supposed advantages, so impressive to the eye, were in fact highly doubtful. Her bigness, for example-the "Colossus of Roads," one northern correspondent dubbed her-only made her more sluggish and easier to hit, and her eight guns were limited in traverse. The effectiveness of her knockout punch, demonstrated yesterday when she rammed the c.u.mberland c.u.mberland, was considerably reduced by the loss of her iron beak. Also, she had come out armed for the destruction of the frigates; her explosive sh.e.l.l shattered easily against an armored target, and she had brought only a few solid rounds to be used as hot shot. Worden's task, on the other hand, was complicated by the need for protecting the grounded Minnesota Minnesota, which the Virginia Virginia would take under fire if he allowed her to get within range. Then too, his gun crews were disconcerted by whizzing screwheads that flew off the inner ends of the armor bolts and rattled about inside the turret whenever the enemy scored a direct hit. would take under fire if he allowed her to get within range. Then too, his gun crews were disconcerted by whizzing screwheads that flew off the inner ends of the armor bolts and rattled about inside the turret whenever the enemy scored a direct hit.

Buchanan gone, command of the Virginia Virginia had pa.s.sed to her executive, Lieutenant Catesby ap R. Jones. He gave the had pa.s.sed to her executive, Lieutenant Catesby ap R. Jones. He gave the Monitor Monitor everything he had given the wooden warships yesterday, and more: to no avail. When he tried to ram her, she drew aside like a skillful boxer and pounded him hard as he pa.s.sed. After a few such exchanges, the crews of his after-guns, deafened by the concussion of 180-pound b.a.l.l.s against the cracking railroad iron, were bleeding from their noses and ears. Descending once to the gundeck and observing that some of the pieces were not engaged, Jones shouted: "Why are you not firing, Mr Eggleston?" The gun captain shrugged. "Why, our powder is very precious," he replied, "and after two hours' incessant firing I find that I can do her about as much damage by snapping my thumb at her every two minutes and a half." everything he had given the wooden warships yesterday, and more: to no avail. When he tried to ram her, she drew aside like a skillful boxer and pounded him hard as he pa.s.sed. After a few such exchanges, the crews of his after-guns, deafened by the concussion of 180-pound b.a.l.l.s against the cracking railroad iron, were bleeding from their noses and ears. Descending once to the gundeck and observing that some