Her tower revolved. She could stand and fight in one spot
all day.
The big black hull of the _Merrimac_ bore down on the _Monitor_ now to
ram and sink her at a blow. The nimble craft side stepped the avalanche
of iron, turned quickly and attempted to jamb her nose into the steering
gear of the Southerner--but in vain.
For two solid hours the iron-clads pounded and hammered each other. The
shots made no impression on either boat.
Again the _Merrimac_ tried to ram her antagonist and run her aground.
The nimble foe avoided the blow, though struck a grinding, crushing
side-swipe.
The little _Monitor_ now stuck her nose squarely against the side of the
_Merrimac_, held it there, and fired both her eleven-inch guns against
the walls of the Southerner.
The charge of powder was not heavy enough. No harm was done. The impact
of the shots had merely forced the sloping sides an inch or two.
The captain of the _Merrimac_ turned to his men in sharp command.
"All hands on deck. Board and capture her!"
The smoke-smeared crew swarmed to the portholes and were just in the act
of springing on the decks of the _Monitor_, when she backed quickly and
dropped down stream.
After six hours of thunder in each other's faces the _Monitor_ drew
away into the shoal waters guarding the _Minnesota_.
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