The Merrimac then challenged the Congress, a Federal sailing frigate, of 1,867 tons, but was also refused a surrender. This refusal was replied to by the guns of the rebel vessel, and after a short contest, when it became hopeless to continue resistance, the Congress surrendered, and was fired and abandoned. The evening was clear, the air still, the water without a ripple, and the scene was magnificent, as the noble vessel became wrapped in its fiery shroud. When entirely enveloped in flame, the fire reached the magazine, and an explosion took place which scattered the burning wreck in one vast upheaving of fragments and cinders, kindling up the sky with its glare, and throwing portions of the wreck the distance of a mile. The Merrimac having succeeded in sinking the Cumberland and compelling the Congress to surrender, withdrew for the night, evidently confident that in the morning she would sweep away the rest of the fleet. As the day closed, sadness and gloom filled the hearts of the Federal officers in the fleet and Fortress. They felt assured that the powerful enemy that had just made such murderous work had only retired for the night to recruit, and then return to complete the destruction she had commenced, having the sailing vessels at her mercy. While despondency settled on many brows, and conjectures were rife as to where the Merrimac would direct her attention the next day, a gleam of hope arose. At eight o’clock in the evening a bright, movable light was discovered seaward, coming from the direction of Cape Charles beacon. It being known that the Ericsson Battery had left New York two days previous, surmises were rife that this light might proceed from her deck. The best night telescopes were brought into requisition, and in less than half an hour after it first hove in sight, the fact was circulated that the Ericsson Battery was coming up the Roads. The news spread like wildfire, and the ramparts in the fort were soon lined with troops. At nine o’clock the Monitor anchored off Fortress Monroe. The next day, (Sunday, the 9th,) dawned fair and calm. The sun rose with almost cloudless splendor, a soft haze alone hung upon the water, so silvery and transparent that it hardly intercepted the view.