on us. At this
time we lost two officers, both elderly men. One was an acting master,
who was killed on the quarter-deck by a small rifle-bolt which struck
him between the shoulders, and went right through him. The other was
our old coast pilot, who was mortally wounded by a fragment of shell.
We kept up as strong a fire as we could from our two stern-guns; but
the men were repeatedly swept away from them, and at last both pieces
were disabled, one having the muzzle knocked off, and the other being
dismounted. Rifles and carbines were also used by some of our people
to try to pick off the 'Merrimac's' crew when her ports were opened to
fire, but of course the effect of the small-arms was not apparent to
us.

"It is useless to attempt to describe the condition of our decks by
this time. No one who has not seen it can appreciate the effect of
such a fire in a confined space. Men were being killed and maimed
every minute, those faring best whose duty kept them on the spar deck.
Just before our stern-guns were disabled, there were repeated calls
for powder from them; and, none appearing, I took a look on the
berth-deck to learn the cause. After my eyes had become a little
accustomed to the darkness, and the sharp smoke from burning oak, I
saw that the line of cooks and wardroom servants stationed to pass
full boxes had been raked by a shell, and the whole of them either
killed or wounded,--a sufficient reason why there was a delay with the
powder. (I may mention here that the officer who commanded our powder
division was a brother of the captain of the 'Merrimac.') The shells
searched the vessel everywhere. A man previously wounded was killed in
the cock-pit where he had been taken for surgical aid. The deck of the
cock-pit had to be kept sluiced with water from the pumps, to
extinguish the fire from the shells, although dreadfully wounded men
were lying on this deck, and the water was icy cold; but the
shell-room hatch opened out of the cock-pit, and fire must be kept out
of there at all hazards, or the whole of us would go into the air
together. In the wardroom and steerage, the bulkheads were all knocked
down by the shells, and by the axemen making way for the hose,
forming a scene of perfect ruin and desolation. Clothing, books,
glass, china, photographs, chairs, bedding, and tables were all mixed
in one confused heap. Some time before this, our commanding officer, a
fine young man, had been instantly killed by a fragm