While the guns of the battle were yet echoing over the waters of the harbor, this strange little craft, a floating iron cheese box, was slowly steaming into the Virginia capes. At nine o'clock that night Ericsson's _Monitor_ was beside the panic-stricken _Roanoke_. When C. S. Bushnell took the model of this strange craft to Washington, he was referred to Commander C. H. Davis by the Naval Board. When Davis had examined it he handed it back to Bushnell with a pitying smile: "Take the little thing home, and worship it. It would not be idolatry, because it's made in the image of nothing in the heaven above or the earth beneath or in the waters under the earth." Wiser councils had prevailed, and the floating cheese box was completed and arrived in Hampton Roads in time to put its powers to supreme test. The _Merrimac's_ crew ate their breakfast at their leisure and prepared to drive their ugly duckling into the battle line again and finish the work of destroying the battered Federal squadron. The _Merrimac_ had fought the battle of the day before under the constant pounding of more than one hundred guns bearing on her iron sides. Her armor was intact. Two of her guns were disabled by having their muzzles shot off. Her nose had been torn off and sank with the _Cumberland_. One anchor, her smoke stacks and steam pipes were shot away. Every scrap of her railing, stanchions, and boat davits had been swept clean. Her flag staff was gone and a boarding pike had been set up in its place. With stern faces, and absolutely sure of victory, her crew swung her into the stream, crowded on full steam and moved down on the _Minnesota_. Close under the ship's side they saw for the first time the cheese box. They had heard of the experiment of her building but knew nothing of her arrival. Her insignificant size was a surprise and the big _Merrimac_ dashed at her with a sullen furious growl of her big guns. The game little bulldog swung out from the _Minnesota_ and made straight for the onrushing monster. The flotilla of gunboats had been signaled to retire and watch the duel. From the big eleven-inch guns of the _Monitor_ shot after shot was hurled against the slanting armored walls of the _Merrimac_. Broadside after broadside poured from her guns against the iron-clad tower of the _Monitor_. The _Merrimac_, drawing twenty feet of water, was slow and difficult to handle. The game little _Monitor_ drew but twelve feet and required no maneuvering. Her tower revolved. She could stand and fight in one spot all day. The big black hull of the _Merrimac_ bore down on the _Monitor_ now to ram and sink her at a blow. The nimble craft side stepped the avalanche of iron, turned quickly and attempted to jamb her nose into the steering gear of the Southerner--but in vain. For two solid hours the iron-clads pounded and hammered each other. The shots made no impression on either boat.