ind anything wrong."
Such was Catesby Ap. R. Jones, the executive officer of the _Merrimac_.

When it was fully evident that there was to be a suspension of
hostilities, and these details had all been attended to, several of the
officers went to stand beside Buchanan on the upper grating.

The whole scene was changed. A pall of black smoke hung about the ships
and obscured the clean-cut outlines of the shore. Down the river were
the three frigates _St. Lawrence_, _Roanoke_, and _Minnesota_, also
enveloped in the clouds of battle that now and then reflected the
crimson lightnings of the god of war. The masts of the _Cumberland_ were
protruding above the water. The _Congress_ presented a terrible scene of
carnage.

The gunboats _Beaufort_ and _Raleigh_ were signaled to take off the
wounded and fire the ship. They were driven away by sharpshooters on
shore, who suddenly turned their fire on us, notwithstanding the white
flag of the _Congress_. Buchanan fell, severely wounded in the groin.

As he was being carried below he said to Executive Officer Jones: "Plug
hot shot into her and don't leave her until she's afire. They must look
after their own wounded, since they won't let us"--a characteristic
command when it is remembered that his own brother, McKean Buchanan, was
paymaster of the _Congress_ and might have been numbered among the
wounded.

We had kept two furnaces for the purpose of heating shot. They were
rolled into the flames on a grating, rolled out into iron buckets,
hoisted to the gun-deck, and rolled into the guns, which had been
prepared with wads of wet hemp. Then the gun would be touched off
quickly and the shot sent on its errand of destruction.

Leaving the _Congress_ wrapped in sheets of flame, we made for the three
other frigates. The _St. Lawrence_ and _Roanoke_ had run aground, but
were pulled off by tugs and made their escape. The _Minnesota_ was not
so fortunate, but we drew twenty-three feet of water and could not get
near enough to destroy her, while our guns could not be elevated owing
to the narrow embrasures, and their range was only a mile; so we made
for our moorings at Sewall's Point.

All the evening we stood on deck watching the brilliant display of the
burning ship. Every part of her was on fire at the same time, the
red-tongued flames running up shrouds, masts, and stays, and extending
out to the yard-arms. She stood in bold relief against the black
background, lighting up the Roa