The sun was going down and the tide was running out rapidly. The deep draught of the "Merrimac" made the risk of grounding, if she closely engaged the "Minnesota," a serious matter. So Buchanan signalled to the gunboats to cease fire, and, accompanied by them, steamed over to the south side of the Roads, where he anchored for the night under the Confederate batteries, intending to complete the destruction of the Federal fleet next morning. The first day's fight was over. It had been a battle between the old and the new--between a steam-propelled armoured ram and wooden sailing-ships. The "Cumberland" had been sunk, the "Congress" forced to surrender and set on fire, and the "Minnesota" was hopelessly aground and marked down as the first victim for next day. The Federals had lost some two hundred men. The Confederates only twenty-one. Buchanan was wounded, not severely, but seriously enough for the command of the "Merrimac" to be transferred to Lieutenant Jones. As night came on the moon rose, but the wide expanse of water was lighted up, not by her beams only, but also by the red glare from the burning "Congress." The flames ran up her tarred rigging like rocket trails, masts and spars were defined in flickers of flame. At last, with a deafening roar that was heard for many a mile, she blew up, strewing the Roads with scattered wreckage. At ten o'clock that evening, while the "Congress" was still burning, a strange craft had steamed into the Roads from the sea, all unnoticed by the Confederates. She anchored in the shallow water between the "Minnesota" and the shore. Her light draught enabled her to go into waters where less powerful fighting-ships would have grounded. To use the words of one who first saw her as the sun rose next day, she looked like a plank afloat with a can on top of it. She was Ericsson's ironclad turret-ship, the "Monitor."