“Through his influence I went on the Cumberland. She was a wooden vessel, but stanch and trim, with a good commander, {174}Lieutenant Morris, whom we all liked. He was brave, resolute and determined. The Merrimac, under Commander Franklin Buchanan, was trying to raise the blockade, and do us all the harm she could. She was steaming round Hampton Roads, waiting to sink any of the boats that were maintaining that blockade. Commodore Buchanan evidently fancied he had an easy job on hand, but as soon as we sighted the ungainly-looking craft, our hearts were made glad with orders to pour a broadside into her, which we lost no time in doing. We tried our best to destroy her, but her heavy iron plates withstood the assault. Had she been made of wood, we would have made a sieve of her with our charge. We did her some damage, though, for our shot went clear into her open ports, and killed some of her crew. I heard some one say when a man's hit he don't cry out, but I know better, for the shrieks of the wounded on both sides that day, mingled with the roaring of the shells, the crashing of shot against the iron-sheeted monster, and the confusion of voices as orders rang out, sound in my ears yet. “Lieutenant Morris would not say die, and when the rifled shot from the big house, for that's what it looked like, tore our decks fore and aft, the Merrimac's commander followed it up by turning his boat so that he rammed into our gay little vessel's side, and left a huge gash. Our commander's blood was up. We felt the frigate slowly settling beneath our feet, but not a man dreamed of forsaking his gun, but steadily poured fire into the Merrimac. We were willing to die, rather than surrender, and even though the breath came quick and hard, and we may have quailed a little as we looked at our watery grave, yet we waited calmly to hear our leader's orders, while the enemy was dealing us terrible blows with shot and shell. “I felt a sharp pang, a numbness followed. The whole world was growing black, and for a second I thought the night had suddenly settled over us, and I knew no more, until one day I woke up in hospital, and found my right arm and shoulder had parted company. A {175}messmate told me what happened after I fell to the deck. Our brave commander would not surrender; the water rose steadily, or, rather, the Cumberland sank steadily, until the waves washed across her gun deck, when the crew sprang overboard, and the ships boats carried them ashore. [Illustration: 0184] “Tom said it was a sickening sight--they had done us great havoc, but all of our wounded who could be dragged into the boats were saved, myself among the number. Tom said it was a gloomy sight when the trusty frigate keeled over, and sank to the bottom, but she went down game, for her top-masts stood above the water, with her flag flapping in the face of the Merrimac and her commander.”