But at last the veil parted, and they saw the little _Monitor_ lying alongside the _Merrimac_, trim and spiteful, with the Stars and Stripes flying proudly from her stern, and a great cheer arose from every throat. Then they saw the _Merrimac_ bear down upon the little flat cheese, as if to sink her. She struck fair and square, but the iron ram glided up on her low-sheathed deck and simply careened her over; but in so doing the _Merrimac_ showed her unarmed hull below the iron coat of mail, and the _Monitor_ planted one of her shots in a vital place. For four long hours had this strange duel lasted, the _Merrimac_ firing heavily, the _Monitor_ steaming round and choosing her place and time, with careful aim at rudder, screw, and water-line. At last Buchanan, the Commander of the _Merrimac_, was severely wounded, and as his ship began to take in water through three gaping wounds, the helm was put over and the conqueror of yesterday limped away. But her last shot struck point-blank upon the iron grating of the pilot-house just where Lieutenant Worden was looking out. The concussion threw him down senseless, and minute pieces of iron and powder were driven into his eyes, so that he was blinded. When after a time he recovered his consciousness he asked: “Have I saved the _Minnesota_?” “Yes, sir, and whipped the _Merrimac_,” was the reply. “Then I care not what becomes of me,” murmured the Lieutenant. The _Merrimac_ slowly made her way to a safe anchorage under the batteries at Sewell’s Point. Here she signalled for help, and tugs came up, took her in tow, and escorted her to Norfolk. Her injuries were so severe that after months of work upon her she never ventured to quit her retreat, whereas the _Monitor_ seemed but slightly damaged. She had been hit twenty-two times, and only showed slight indentations, but a ball striking full on the pilot-house had bent a huge iron beam. The ram of the _Merrimac_ had torn off some of the plating from the side of the _Monitor_. The latter drew only 10 feet of water, and could go where the _Merrimac_ could not venture. But though the _Merrimac_ had fired her last shot, she gave the North a great fright in the night which followed the battle. At midnight thousands of people along the coast were roused from their sleep by cries that came over the water: “Fire! fire! For God’s sake, save us!” The shore was soon lined by spectators, who stood unable to get a boat to put out or help in any way. There was the gunboat _Whitehall_ roaring with flames, and the dark figures of the crew were plainly visible on her deck, either wrapped in red fire or jumping into the deep water beneath.