silenced, herself a useless mass of metal. Each quiver of her strong frame seemed to plead with us not to abandon her. 11. The work she had done, the work she was to do, rose before us: might there not be a possibility of saving her yet? Her time could not have come so soon. But we who descended for a moment to the cabin, knew, by the rising water through which we waded, that the end was near. Small time was there for regrets. Rockets were thrown up, and answered by the "Rhode Island," whose brave men prepared at once to lower boats, though, in that wild sea, it was almost madness. 12. The “Monitor” had been attached to the "Rhode Island" by two hawsers, one of which had parted at about seven P.M. The other remained firm; but now it was necessary it should be cut. How was that possible, when every wave washed clean over the deck? What man could reach it alive? "Who'll cut the hawser?" shouted Captain Bankhead. Acting master Stodder volunteered, and was followed by another. Holding by one hand to the ropes at her side, they cut through, by many blows of the hatchet, the immense rope which united the vessels. Stodder returned in safety, but his brave companion was washed over, and went down. 13. Meanwhile the boat launched from the "Rhode Island," had started, manned by a crew of picked men. A mere heroic impulse could not have accomplished this most noble deed. For hours they had watched the raging sea., Their captain and they knew the danger; every man who entered that boat, did it at the peril of his life; and yet all were ready. Are not such acts as these convincing proofs of the divinity of human nature'? We watched her with straining eyes; for few thought she could live to reach us. She neared; we were sure of her, thank Heaven! 14. In this interval, the cut hawser had become entangled in the paddle-wheel of the "Rhode Island," and she drifted down upon us; we, not knowing this fact, supposed her coming to our assistance; but a moment undeceived us. The launch sent to our relief was now between us and her, -too near for safety. The steamer bore-swiftly down, stern first, upon our starboard quarter. we cried, and then first saw she was helpless. 66 Keep off! keep off!" 15. Even as we looked, the devoted boat was caught between the steamer and the iron-clad,-a sharp sound of crushing wood was heard,―thwarts, oars, and splinters flew in air, the boat's crew leaped to the "Monitor's" deck. Death stared us in the face; our iron prow must go through the Rhode Island's side, and then an end to all. One awful moment we held our breath,—then the hawser was cleared, the steamer moved off, as it were, step by step, first one, then another, till a ship's length lay between us, and then we breathed freely. 16. But the boat!—had she gone to the bottom, carrying brave souls with her'? No'; there she lay, beating against our iron sides; but still, though bruised and broken, a lifeboat to us. There was no hasty scramble for life when it was found she floated,-all held back. The men kept steady on at their work of bailing,—only those leaving, and in the order named, whom the captain bade save themselves. They descended from the turret to the deck with mingled fear and hope, for the waves tore from side to side, and the coolest head and bravest heart could not guaranty safety. Some were washed over as they left the turret, and, with a vain clutch at the iron deck, a wild throwing up of the arms, went down, their death-cry ringing in the ears of their companions. 17. The boat sometimes held her place by the "Monitor's" side, then was dashed hopelessly out of reach, rising and falling on the waves. A sailor would spring from the deck to reach her, to be seen for a moment in mid-air, and then, as she rose, fall into her. So she gradually filled up; but some poor souls who sought to reach her, failed, even as they touched her receding sides, and went down. We had a little messenger-boy, the special charge of one of our sailors, and the pet of all; he must inevitably have been lost, but for the care of his adopted father, who, holding him firmly in his arms, escaped, as by a miracle, being washed-overboard, but finally succeeded in placing him safely in the boat. 18. The last but one to make the desperate venture, was the surgeon; he leaped from the deck, at the very instant when the boat was being swept away by the merciless sea. Making one final effort, he threw his body forward as he fell, striking across the boat's side so violently, it was thought some of his ribs must be broken. "Haul the Doctor in !" shouted Lieutenant Greene, perhaps remembering how, a little time back, he himself, almost gone down in the unknown sea, had been "hauled in" by a quinine rope flung him by the Doctor. Stout sailor-arms pulled him in; one more sprang to a place in her, and the boat, now full, pushed off,—in a sinking condition, it is true, but still bearing hope with her, for she was wood. 19. Over the waves we made little progress, though pulling for life. The men stuffed their pea-jackets into the leaks, and bailed incessantly. We neared the "Rhode Island;" but now a new peril appeared. Right down upon our center, borne by the might of the rushing water, came the whaleboat sent to rescue others from the iron-clad. We barely floated; if she struck us with her bows full on us, we must go to the bottom. One sprang, and, as she neared, with outShe passed stretched arms, met and turned her course. against us, and his hand, caught between the two buats, was crushed, and the arm, wrenched from its socket, fell a helpless weight against his side; but life remained. We were saved, and an arm was a small price to pay for life. 20. We reached the "Rhode Island;" ropes were flung over her side, and caught with a death-grip. Some lost their hold, were washed away, and again dragged in by the boat's crew. What chance had one whose right arm hung a dead weight, when strong men with their two hands, went down before him? He caught at a rope, found it impossible to save himself alone, and then for the first time said,-"I am injured; can any one help me?" Ensign Taylor, at the risk of his own life, brought the rope around his shoulder in such a way that it could not slip, and he was drawn up in safety. 21. In the mean time, the whale-boat, which had nearly caused our destruction, had reached the side of the "Monitor;" and now the captain said, "It is madness to remain here longer let each man save himself." For a moment, he descended to the cabin for a coat, and his faithful servant followed to secure a jewel-box, containing the accumulated treasure of years. A sad, sorry sight it was! In the heavy air the lamps burned dimly, and the water, waist-deep, splashed sullenly against the sides of the wardroom. One lingering look, and he left the "Monitor's" cabin forever! 22. Time was precious; he hastened to the deck, where, in the midst of a terrible sea, Lieutenant Greene nobly held his post. He seized the rope from the whale-boat, wound it about an iron stanchion, then around his wrists, and, by this means, was drawn aboard the boat. Thus, one by one, watching their time between the waves, the men filled in, and, at last, after making all effort for others, and none for themselves, Captain Bankhead and Lieutenant Greene took their places in the boat. The gallant Brown pushed off, and soon had his boat-load safe upon the "Rhode Island's " deck. 23. Here the heartiest and most tender reception met us. Our drenched clothing was replaced by warm and dry garments, and all on board vied with each other in acts of kindness. The only one who had received any injury, Surgeon Weeks,* was carefully attended to, the dislocated arm se, and the crushed fingers amputated, by the gentlest and most considerate of surgeons, Dr. Webber, of the "Rhode Island." 24. For an hour or more we watched, from the deck of the steamer, the lonely light upon the " Monitor's "turrets; a hundred times we thought it gone forever,-a hundred times it reäppeared, till, at last, about two o'clock, Wednesday morning, December 31st, it sank, and we saw it no more. An actor in the scenes of that wild night, when the "Monitor" went down, relates the story of her last cruise. Her work is now over. She lies a hundred fathoms deep under the stormy waters off Cape Hatteras; but she has made herself a name, which will not soon be forgotten by the American people. QUESTIONS.-1. When and where was the Monitor lost? 2. What signal service had she rendered? 3. Who was the writer of this account? LESSON XC. RE SPON SI BIL' I TIE$, obligations LA' TENT, secret; hidden. IN IQUI TY, wickedness. EF FECTIVE, powerful; efficient. PEN'E TRA TIVE, entering; piercing. WAN' TON LY, wastefully. SUS' TE NANCE, food; support. *The writer of this account. |