rds of promotion and the thanks of
Congress, and passed the remainder of his life unadventurously in the
navy service.

One other battle remains to be recorded--in some respects the most
important in history, because it revolutionized the construction of
battleships, and suddenly rendered all the existing navies of the world
practically useless.

On the eighth day of March, 1862, a powerful squadron of Union vessels
lay at anchor in Hampton Roads, consisting of the Congress, the
Cumberland, the St. Lawrence, the Roanoke, and the Minnesota. It was a
beautiful spring morning, and the tall ships rocked lazily at their
anchors, while their crews occupied themselves with routine duties.
Shortly before noon, a strange object was seen approaching down the
Elizabeth river. To the Union officers, it looked like the roof of a
large barn belching forth smoke. In reality, it was the Confederate
ironclad, Merrimac, under command of Captain Franklin Buchanan.

Buchanan had, in his day, been one of the most distinguished officers in
the United States navy. He had entered the service in 1815, as
midshipman, and won rapid promotion. In 1845, he was selected by the
secretary of the navy to organize the naval academy at Annapolis, and
was its first commandant. He commanded the Germantown at the capture of
Vera Cruz, and the Susquehanna, the flagship of Commodore Perry's famous
expedition to Japan. At the outbreak of the Civil War, he was commandant
of the Washington navy-yard, and, being himself a Baltimore man,
resigned from the service after the attack made in Baltimore on the
Massachusetts troops passing through there. Finding that his state did
not secede, he withdrew his resignation and asked to be restored, but
for some reason, the secretary of the navy, Gideon Welles, refused this
request, and Buchanan was fairly driven into the enemy's service.

The Confederacy was glad to get him, gave him the rank of captain and
put him in charge of the work at the Norfolk, Virginia, navy-yard. The
most important business going forward there was the reconstruction of
the United States frigate, Merrimac. This consisted in building above
her berth-deck sloping bulwarks seven feet high, covered with four
inches of iron, and pierced for ten guns. To her bow, about two feet
under water, a cast-iron ram was attached, and on the eighth of March,
she cast loose from her moorings and started down the river. She was
scarcely complete, her crew had nev