At twelve o’clock, the magazines blew up with a terrific noise. This event had been anticipated by the garrison, and the shores and adjacent camps were crowded with awe-struck gazers. The whole upper works of the frigate had, hours before, been reduced to ashes by the devouring flames; the masts and spars, blackened and charred, had fallen into and across the burning hull; these were sent high into the air with other _debris_, and as blast succeeded blast, were suddenly arrested in their descent and again sent heavenward. The spectacle thus presented was awfully grand; a column of fire and sulphurous smoke, fifty feet in diameter at its base and not less than two hundred feet high, dividing in its centre into thousands of smaller jets, and falling in myriads of bunches and grains of fire, like the sprays of a gigantic fountain, lighted up the camp and bay for miles.
The yards and rigging of the “Minnesota” and “St. Lawrence” were filled with men armed with fire-buckets, lest the falling sparks should ignite the tarred ropes of these vessels, and unite them in one general conflagration. The sides of the hapless “Congress” were thrown open by the last explosion, and the next morning, all that could be seen of the once proud ship were a few blackened ribs, a short distance above the surface of the water.
When the soldiers of Camp Butler turned away from that scene to retire to their quarters, it was with heavy hearts. The recollection of the harrowing events of the afternoon was still fresh in their minds; they had now witnessed the total destruction of another vessel of our navy, the loss of which gave joy to the South, a new lease of life to the Rebellion, and operated to postpone the day when they would be permitted to doff the blue and return to their homes.
Sunday the 9th of March dawned, finding the frigate “Minnesota” still aground, her consort, the “St. Lawrence,” having more fortunately drifted into deep water. The day broke fair, and so calm was everything upon both water and land, that it seemed very like a preparation for the funeral of the two hundred brave men who had tasted death on the preceding day. The Confederate fleet could be distinctly seen lying at anchor under their batteries at Sewall’s Point. A column of white steam was issuing from the pipes of the “Merrimack”; it was evident that she was preparing to set out on her second day’s exploits, and attempt to deal the final blow to our navy in Hampton Roads. At about seven o’clock, the “Merrimack” was discovered to be moving, and following her were the other vessels of the Confederate fleet. Upon rounding the Point, the iron-clad shaped her course directly towards Fortress Monroe, but she had not proceeded far before she suddenly turned and steered toward the mouth of the James. The drums of the “Minnesota” were heard beating her anxious crew to quarters. When the “Merrimack” had arrived within fair range, she fired a shot from her bow gun. The shot struck the frigate under her counter, doing her not a little damage. The fire was quickly replied to by the frigate, and now Captain Van Brunt, her commander, signalled the “Monitor,” which up to that moment had lain close alongside of the ship, and which had arrived from New York the night before, to attack the enemy.