A COMING RACE. THE YACHTS NORWOOD AND VAMOOSE LIKELY TO MEET.
In a very few days, arrangements will be completed for a test of speed between Norman L Munro’s steam yacht Norwood and Mr. Hearst’s Vamoose. Since the Vamoose crossed the bow of the Monmouth on Saturday last in a race down the upper bay with the Sandy Hook steamer, Mr. Munro has been anxious for a match between the two yachts, as the Norwood has outsteamed the Monmouth, too.

It is Mr. Munro’s desire to have both yachts start with the steamer Mary Powell from her dock at the foot of West Twenty-second Street and steam up the Hudson fifty miles from the starting point and return, making a hundred-mile trip. Mr. Hearst has given Mr. Heilbron, the chief engineer of the Vamoose, permission to make a satisfactory agreement with Mr. Munro, and Mr. Heilbron will meet Mr. Munro within a few days.

The Vamoose was alongside Tebo’s Wharf, foot of Twenty-third Street, Brooklyn, yesterday to receive a fresh coat of white paint and get her brass polished. Engineer Heilbron and Capt. Stanwood had gone on a picnic, but the assistant engineer was on the boat. He said that Mr. Hearst was anxious for the Vamoose to meet the Norwood in a fair race, but that he wouldn't consent to a race on the Hudson River, for the Vamoose could only race in very deep water. The assistant engineer said that the Vamoose had already made a trip on the Hudson as far up as West Point, and during moderately high speed had “felt the bottom” a number of times, necessitating a slowing down of the engine.

The only course, he said, that would suit Mr. Hearst would be in Long Island Sound, either over one of the American Yacht Club's courses or straight away from Execution Rock to New-London.

Thomas L. Scoville of the American Yacht Club wrote to Mr. Munro on Tuesday, extending the use of the club grounds and landing float of the club in case a race was arranged between the Norwood and the Vamoose. The assistant engineer of the Vamoose said yesterday: "The Norwood could gain a mile an hour over the Vamoose in a race on the Hudson by following the eddy of the tide, while the Vamoose would have to keep in deep water. It makes a great difference in a race whether a boat draws eighteen inches or ten feet. If the Norwood outraced the Vamoose, I believe that Mr. Hearst would give her away."
Mr. Munro was in Long Branch yesterday, but it was stated at his office, 26 Vandewater Street, that he would not rest until he had brought the race about.

The Norwood is at present at Branchport, N. J.

NORWOOD AND VAMOOSE. THE VAMOOSE HAS ALREADY RACED THE MARY POWELL ON THE SLY.
She gained half a mile in a run of fifty miles, but had to cut across lots to do it. - Mr. Munro's proposition for a record race between the Norwood and the [Mary] Powell discussed by the Powell's Captain. - Will Mr. Hearst respond?

Norman L. Munro's proposition to race his little wonder, the Norwood, against the Mary Powell fifty miles up the Hudson and back, is likely to bring about one or more river contests of more than common interest. As Mr. Munro's letter in yesterday's SUN sets forth, his object in proposing the race is to make a record for the Norwood, which he hopes W. R. Hearst will feel compelled to try and beat with his new fast Herreshoff boat, the Vamoose. Mr. Hearst does not think the Vamoose is ready for a contest with the Norwood just yet, because he has not yet found a screw exactly suited to her. The Norwood, however, is all ready for a brush, and, in her owner's language, is “becoming restless and uncontrollable.” Fearing that when the Vamoose is finally ready, a race may in some way fail to come off. Mr. Munro asked THE SUN to assist in arranging a race against time for the Norwood, to come off within two weeks. He has probably selected the Mary Powell to race against because she is beyond question the fastest boat in New York waters and makes regular daily trips up the river.

Mr. Munro says:
“Permit me to suggest, with all due respect to Mr. Hearst and the Herreshoffs, that if the Vamoose starts for the Pacific coast neglecting to make a trial run over the course above mentioned[,] she will have to go with a record of about 19 60-100 [sic, 60/100?] nautical miles per hour, and that for a short distance, too. There will be no excuse of rough weather on the Hudson, as was the case when Mr. Hearst had a brush with the Monmouth. After crossing the Monmouth’s bow opposite Fort Hamilton, she returned to the city on account of the rough weather. I desire to give the Vamoose a fair chance; hence the selection of the Hudson."

Another reason for selecting the Hudson is that Mr. Hearst objected to a race of ten or twenty miles, saying that 100 miles was necessary properly to compare the speed of the two boats. Mr. Munro proposes to accompany the Mary Powell fifty miles up the river, and then return, the record to be made on the trip.

Additional interest will be lent to the contest with the Mary Powell by the fact that it was in a race with her that the famous Stiletto won her spurs on June 11, 1885. She was the first of the Herreshoff fast boats. The model was a novelty then, and the contest aroused widespread interest on account of the diminutive size of the new contestant for the big Powell’s laurels. The little Stiletto made the twenty-eight miles to Sing Sing in an hour and seventeen minutes, beating the steamboat seven minutes. There have been vast improvements since then in boats of the cigar model, however, and the Stiletto, which is now a torpedo boat in Uncle Sam's service, would probably not be in a race with some of the newest wonders. It has long been Mr. Munro’s hope to own the fastest steamboat in the world, and the Norwood is only the last of a series of astonishingly fast boats which he has had built. He believes her to be the fastest in the world, and hence his desire not to allow the much-heralded Vamoose to leave these waters without a contest which will definitely settle the issue between them.

Mr. Munro is probably not aware that the Vamoose has already had a brush with the Mary Powell, and that, too, over the same course which he now proposes. The contest was unannounced. Even the steamboat people received no warning until they perceived that the race was actually on. If the Vamoose had beaten her big rival, the story doubtless would have been told before this. But she only succeeded in holding her own by making cross cuts over shallows which the Powell had to avoid, thus covering less distance than the Powell.

It happened a week ago, last Monday. The Powell left West Twenty-second street a little after 3 1/2 o'clock on her regular trip. She carried 450 passengers and a great deal of baggage. Above Forty-second street she met the Vamoose steaming slowly down stream. Immediately after, the Vamoose turned sharply and followed hot in the Powell's wake. She was then about half a mile astern. From Forty-second street to Cranston’s, which is the Powell's first stop, is counted fifty miles by steam-boat men.

The Powell's passengers did not need to be told that a race was on. There were those aboard who knew the Vamoose by sight and who pointed her out to the others when the two boats met. Hundreds of curious eyes were still upon her when she turned sharply into the steamboat’s wake, and when she at once began to part the water into foamy jets on either side of her sharp nose and to shoot black clouds from her smokestack, there was excitement aboard the steam boat. The passengers crowded eagerly aft to watch the daring little craft's attempt to beat the fastest steamer on the Hudson. The Vamoose kept dead astern, a policy which was favorable to her big rival, for it kept the passengers aft and the steamboat trim. Had the Vamoose followed a course much to either side of that of the Powell, the Powell's passengers would have crowded to that side and given their boat a list which would have hindered her.

The race soon become uninteresting, however, for there was no readily apparent change in the relative position of the boats until Sing Sing was insight. The Vamoose was getting smaller and smaller, and it was evident that the big steamboat was running away from her. Opposite Nyack it was estimated that she was a mile astern.

At Sing Sing the river broadens and swerves to the west. Croton Point juts far out from the east bank, having Haverstraw Bay to the north and Croton Bay to the south. There is shoal water on the ebb tide along the west shore of the river here, and the direction of the ship channel made it necessary for the Powell to hug the eastern shore until nearly into Croton Bay, and then round Croton Point in a long, sweeping curve. Instead of following the Powell over this course, the Vamoose took advantage of her lighter draught and hugged the west shore. Thus she steered a nearly straight course into Haverstraw Bay and lined up behind the Steamer again only half a mile astern. This was a clear gain of half a mile.

The Vamoose made another gain in the same way opposite Peekskill. There is a sharp westward bend of the river here around Jones's Point. Directly off the point a schooner was met. To get around her, the Powell had describe a sweeping curve to the east. The Vamoose, however, took a crosscut through the shoal water between the schooner and the west shore. A short distance north of that the Vamoose made another gain by hugging the shore off Anthony's Nose, while the Powell was compelled to describe a wide curve in rounding the point. It was a nearly straight away course from there to the Powell's first landing at Cranston's. As she put about to go into dock, the Vamoose abandoned the chase, and returned home. She was then close astern of the Powell. She had nearly destroyed the Powell's lead of half a mile at the start, but, as against this, it was estimated that she had stolen over a mile by cutting across shoals. In other words, she had gained a half mile on the Powell, but the Powell had covered over a mile more.

So, if Mr. Munro succeeds in inducing Mr. Hearst to engage the Vamoose in no more satisfactory contest, he can get some satisfaction by racing the Norwood against the Powell from Forty-second street to Cranston’s. He can imitate the cross cuts of the Vamoose, if he chooses, and thus follow a practically identical course, or, if he feels sufficient confidence in his boat, he can take the longer course of the Powell, and, if he beats her, win still greater glory.

But will a Hudson River course afford a fair test of speed between two boats which steam over it at different times? Capt. A. E. Anderson of the Mary Powell says not. This is the way he talked yesterday just before he started on his afternoon trip:

“Unless the Norwood and the Vamoose go up the Hudson together, no fair test can possibly be made. For instance, suppose the Norwood goes up alongside the Powell on an ebb tide, and the Vamoose chooses a day when we start on a flood tide. The Vamoose would have a tremendous advantage. The ebb currents in the Hudson are often particularly swift. But the matter of steaming against a current or with one is not the only difference which differing tide conditions would make. It is well known that a steamer makes better headway with plenty of water under her than with little. The tide falls from the bottom first, and when you travel over shallow, being nearer the bottom, your boat is sucked considerably deeper in the water than when making over water of some depth. Of course, this makes a vast difference in the speed you get from a given steam pressure. There are many shallows in the Hudson after you get up a few miles ~ the bays, for instance. In Haverstraw Bay the Powell requires about 35 pounds pressure to make the same speed at low water that at high water she could get out of 25 pounds. You can thus get some idea of how unfair a test it would be if the two boats were to race the Powell with different tide conditions.

"But," said the reporter, “the Norwood could choose a day to go up with you when the tide conditions were the same as existed on the day when the Vamoose made the race."

"That is true enough,” said Capt. Anderson, but you don’t make allowance for the wind. If the two boats, both of which present very little surface to the wind, were to race strictly against time, without reference to the Powell, the actual wind trust would not make so much difference. But suppose when the Norwood made her race there was a good south wind to help the Powell along, and when tie Vamoose made her race a north wind held the Powell back. It makes good deal of difference, I assure you.

“But the greatest effect of the wind in such a test as this lies in its effect upon the tides. The wind retards or helps the force of the tide in the Hudson River amazingly. A west wind will practically kill a flood tide so far as its effect upon a steamboat is concerned. I have no doubt that, given two days when the start is made on identical tides, a difference in the wind effect on the tides might make a difference of fifteen minutes in time between Forty-second street and Cranstons.

“So there you have it. The Norwood may wait two weeks and start with us on a tide identical with that of the day of the Vamoose race, but how are you going to unite such conditions with identical wind conditions also? I think myself that the only way to have a fair contest between the two boats on the Hudson is to bring them out together.

The Norwood race with the Mary Powell will, however, be exceedingly interesting, in view of the Powell's previous races with the Stiletto and the Vamoose. Capt. Anderson handled the Powell on both occasions. He will be able to recall the tide and wind conditions of each race, and calculations can made of sufficient closeness to make an interesting and more or less instructive comparison possible.

The Mary Powell has a record of twenty-five miles in 1 hour and 1 minute, made in 1882, soon after she was rebuilt. She was built in 1862 for A. L. Anderson, the father of her present Captain, and in 1867 carried 450 passengers to Rondout, a distance of 100 miles, in 4 hours and 23 minutes. When she was rebuilt, the greatest care was taken to retain her lines exactly. Capt. Anderson said yesterday:

"It is, of course, flattering for the Powell to be singled out for these tests, but I would much rather not have them. The Powell is a business and family boat. We have never run her up to her limit of pressure which is 45. We never exceed 35 or 38. Consequently we can never be charged with racing her. A race is always sure to demoralize the passengers, and besides it is never a fair test of speed, because the passengers always crowd to the side on which the other boat lies and make us list in a fashion which interferes with our speed. In the race with the Stiletto there was a very large crowd aboard, and when the little boat got abreast of us, we listed, so that I ordered the engineer to slow up until she got well ahead. Then the passengers crowded forward, the boat righted, and we went ahead again. In other words, it is a contest between a fine racing machine in racing trim and a passenger boat with a business equipment. You might as well match a horse in a silky against another hitched to a light express wagon."

Part 7. The Exodus to Grand River (1783)

In 1783, the Treaty of Paris was signed, effectively ending the American Revolution. Many Esopus Indian families were still living in what was now called the Loyal Village outside of Fort Niagara, with an equal number of families living along Buffalo Creek to the south. The news of Britain’s defeat was devastating for the loyal Native allies of Great Britain, who had been burned out out of their ancestral homelands and who had made huge sacrifices in allying with the British Crown in their attempt to prevent the loss of their land. Rumors soon spread that a huge American army was assembling to invade Indian Country and commit total genocide on the Native allies of the British. Although the rumors were mostly unfounded, the Esopus Indians and their leadership took them seriously. They were the first to leave after hearing the “horrid report.”[1] They paddled across a short stretch of Lake Erie and made their way up the Grand River into what is now Ontario. They had found their new home.

The Grand River, a tributary of Lake Erie, runs through a fertile country that was once a patchwork of lush deciduous forests and wide prairies rich in game animals. The same limestone ridge that crosses through their Ulster County homeland also passes through the Grand River country, supporting many of the same plant medicines. Every spring, huge numbers of fish – especially walleye – ascended the Grand River from Lake Erie, allowing for the reestablishment of traditional spring fishing camps. The Esopus Indians had found a new country for their people. It was a country that, in many respects, was similar to their ancestral Ulster County home, only lacking in dramatic topography. Censuses taken over the 1780s and 1790s reveal a population of close to two hundred individuals, a number which also included a number of related Munsees and Unamis who had intermarried with them. They were soon joined along the Grand River by most of the other loyal contingents of the Six Nations Confederacy. Towns were established for each ethnic group, sometimes several miles apart; the village of loyal Mohicans from Onaquaga/Unadilla, also displaced from the Hudson Valley, would locate about ten miles upstream on the Grand River.

The settlements on Grand River would have government support. As compensation for wartime losses, the British government secured 550,000 acres of land along the river for their loyal Native allies through the Haldimand Proclamation of 1784. The Grand River Reserve, though much diminished, is still the largest reserve in Canada today. From their new home base, and with the war over, small groups of Esopus Indians would attempt to return to the Catskills Region and Ulster County for visits over the following decades. Records reveal that at least one Esopus family that had formerly lived in Otsiningo on the Susquehanna River temporarily moved back for two or three years. Other individuals trickled into the Catskill Mountains region to visit old settler friends and places of importance. Among them was notorious Esopus Indian war captain Benjamin Shanks, whose visits are remembered in a number of local histories.[2] Tragically, sometimes these visits resulted in murders committed by vengeful settlers against any Indians that reappeared in the region. In one account, Benjamin Shanks was almost killed in an ambush. His friend or relative, Canope, was not so lucky, and was shot and killed right next to him while fishing in the Delaware River in 1784. Ben Shanks was then purportedly killed by white settlers while picking apples in an old Indian orchard at Chenango (Otsiningo) Point three years later.[3]

As the war began to fade into a distant memory, it became safer for Esopus Indian families to visit their homeland from the Grand River in Canada. A number of records reveal their summertime visits over the course of the early 19th century. While living at Grand River, they were joined by many families of closely-related refugee peoples, including Munsees and Unamis who had formerly lived in the Delaware Valley and Mohicans from the upper Hudson Valley. Along with the Nanticokes (originally from Chesapeake Bay), these five groups became collectively known as the Delawares of Grand River. The Delawares of the Grand River – including at least one definitively Esopus chief – were instrumental in defending Canada from the American Invasion in the War of 1812. As late as 1820, an eyewitness noted that the Esopus Indians’ government continued to function on the Grand River. There, they would continue to practice their traditional religion through the mid 19th century. Amazingly, the Esopus Indians’ system of hereditary chieftainship – which can be traced back to their first encounters with the Dutch in the 17th century – persisted until the 1930s. Today, the Delawares of the Grand River Reserve number several hundred enrolled individuals.
 
Citations:
[1] Historical Collections, Michigan Pioneer and Historical Society, Volume 20. 117-121
[2] Benjamin Shanks (aka Ben, son of Shanks), whose Esopus name was remembered as Huycon (possibly meaning ‘Big Knife’) was the son of a namesake who was also known in the records as Wesomainso (meaning ‘Black Oak’). Father Wesomainso/Jacob Shanks was involved in the sale of various parts of the Catskills in the Hardenbergh Patent. In the years immediately after the American Revolution, son Ben Shanks may have temporarily joined the Munsee community living with the Senecas at Cattaraugus and fathered one or more children; in the early 19th century, Seneca individuals at Cattaraugus appear with the surname Shanks.
[3] Munsell, W.W. The History of Delaware County, Town of Hancock.

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Editor's Note: This article is from the Hudson River Maritime Museum archives. Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper August 21, 1886.

A Day in the "American Trosachs"

The appellation of the "American Trosachs" has been bestowed upon that lromantic region of river, mountain and lake lying west of the Lower Hudson River, in the States of New York and New Jersey, on account of the resemblance of its natural features to those of the famous Trosachs of Scotland, where are laid the scenes of Scott's "Lady of the Lake." The convenient and charming "round trip" which has been arranged by Mr. John N. Abbott, General Passenger Agent of the Erie Railway, will serve to make the beauties of this region accessible to a large portion of the public who have hitherto known it only by reputation.

Leaving New York city by the day steamer, at nine o'clock in the morning, the tourist enjoys a sail of sixty miles up the Hudson River, passing its chief points of historic and scenic interest – the old forts of the Revolution, the Palisades, Tappan Zee, Stony Point, West Point and the Highlands, with Storm King Mountain, 1,529 feet high, standing at their northern gate.

At Newburgh, which is reached at noon, time is allowed for a brief visit to Washington's Headquarters, before the departure of the on-o'clock train on the Erie Railway for Greycourt. From here the route is continued to Warwick over the Lehigh and Hudson Railroad. This railroad ride, occupying altogether an hour and twenty minutes, unfolds a superb panorama of the Shawangunk and Schunemunk Mountains.

From Warwick there is a stage ride of nearly two hours, over the Bellevale Mountain to Point Peter, at the head of Greenwood Lake. This lovely sheet of water is the Loch Katrine of the American Trosachs. It presents equal attractions to the artist and sportsman, and its bass-fishing is celebrated.

After an hour's stop here, the tourist takes the lake steamer to the point where the lake is intersected midway by the State boundary line between New York and New Jersey.

At this point railroad travel is resumed, the train of the New York and Greenwood Lake Railroad leaving the lake at 5:45 p.m., and arriving in New York at 7:40 in the evening.

​Thus the entire trip is made inside of twelve hours; or, reversing it, one can leave the city at 4 p.m., stop overnight at Greenwood Lake, and, reaching Newburgh in time to connect with the day-line steamer at 2:15 p.m., arrive in New York at half-past five. The fare for the round trip, in either direction, is only $3; and it may be questioned if there is in all the world another day's excursion which can rival this one, either in price or in the pleasure afforded.

FLIERS OF THE OLD DAYS: FAMOUS RACES ON THE HUDSON RIVER COURSE.
HOW THE SWALLOW BEAT THE ROCHESTER — COMMODORE VANDERBILT'S COSTLY BLUNDER — LIQUOR, OIL, AND FURNITURE USED AS FUEL.
With what emotions of interest some of the old steamboat Captains of the Hudson River would come out of their graves to observe the forthcoming race between those modern marvels of speed, the steam yachts Vamoose and Norwood, can easily be guessed. In the old days, when the Hudson River was practically the only highway between New-York and Canada and the West, it was the scene of many a race as exciting as any that ever occurred on the Mississippi. While the Mississippi Captain would boldly venture to take a short cut across the grass if there had been a heavy dew that morning, the Hudson River Captain would not hesitate to flash through rocky channels, and no risk was too great with victory at stake. 

The first of the great races of bygone days on the Hudson was that between the Swallow and the Rochester. The former was designed by Anthony N. Hoffman, and was the type of all modern boats of her class — that is to say, of all boats that are sharp both fore and aft. She was built in 1836 at the yard of Copes & Burtis, on Wallabout Bay, Williamsburg.

There were at this time two great rival New-York and Albany steamboat organizations on the Hudson, the one known as the Hudson River Steamboat Association, controlled by Mr. Hoffman, and the other, known then as now as the People’s Line, controlled by Daniel Drew. The Hudson River Steamboat Association was composed of several steamboat owners whose interests were combined for mutual profit. The steamers which belonged to the association in the order in which they were built, down to the time of the creation of the famous Swallow, were as follows:
The North America, which had a double engine and one walking-beam on either aide. She was under the command of Capt. Lathrop and was controlled by Robert L. Stevens.

The Albany, also owned by Robert L. Stevens, and commanded by Capt. Joseph E. Jenkins.

The De Witt Clinton, owned by Robert Dunlap of Albany.

The Empire, owned and controlled by Le Grand B. Cannon the elder, Richard P. Hart, and others.

The Troy, owned by the same persons.

The Swallow, designed and owned by Anthony N. Hoffman, and launched in July, 1836. She made a trial trip to Albany, but was found to be a trifle too short. The boat did not “stand up well" in the water, and Copes & Burtis added twenty-five feet to her length.

The Swallow was the first clipper steamboat ever built. When her model was first exhibited at the office of Mr. Hoffman, it aroused no small degree of ridicule, and the general prophecy was to the effect that such a shape would never produce a high rate of speed under any circumstances, no matter what the engine power might be. After the Swallow had been lengthened, it was put on the regular route between New-York and Albany, and was thereafter, and until the appearance of the Rochester, the undisputed crack of the river, and was the wonder of the age, its speed being regarded as phenomenal.

Anthony N. Hoffman, designer of the Swallow, then had his office at 71 Dey Street, corner of Washington Street, this city. Mr. Hoffman was born in 1780, at Upper Red Hook Landing, Tivoli-on-the Hudson, and became connected with Robert Fulton through his association with Edward P. Livingston of Clermont, the neighboring town. Fulton had married Livingston’s daughter, and it was through her that he obtained the money that enabled him to pursue his experiments in applying steam to navigation that finally led him to success and enduring fame. Hoffman became Fulton’s secretary at the request of the latter, and was closely connected with him during his association with the Hudson River Steamboat Association, and assumed the business after his death, which occurred in 1815. Besides the Swallow, Hoffman controlled the Independence, the Constitution, the Constellation, and the Ohio. The Independence was afterward withdrawn from the Hudson, and was run from New-York to Amboy, N. J. It was sunk at Jersey City in 1822. All of these boats had cross-head engines, and the Ohio boasted of two smoke-stacks.

Daniel Drew did not relish the idea of holding second place in Hudson River steamboat navigation. He wanted to own the fastest boat on the river and enjoy the prestige and patronage incident thereto. Wallabout Bay was lined with private shipyards in those days, and thither Drew repaired in search of a firm that could build a faster boat than the Swallow. The old man had plenty of money, and he promised a liberal share of it for a boat that could beat the Swallow. Smith & Dimon undertook the task, and in 1837 the Rochester, built on the Swallow’s lines, was launched and added to the People’s Line, the boats of which started from the foot of Liberty Street. The Captain of the Swallow was Alexander McLean and that of the Rochester was A. P. St. John.

From the appearance of the Rochester, the hot rivalry between it and the Swallow began, and was constantly kept up. They raced regularity. The Swallow always enjoyed a slight advantage by reason of the fact that its pier was one block above that of the Rochester, thus enabling it to get out into the current first. Both boats started for Albany every other day at 5 o'clock P. M. This was before the introduction of coal as fuel, and wood alone was burned. The water front was not so valuable or as thickly settled then as now, and for twenty to thirty blocks along West Street the docks were piled high with cord wood, which was carried on board the steamers without being sawed or split and there piled on deck. The Swallow carried the United States mails, and, as this privilege went to the fastest boat, it furnished another incentive for racing.

The first race, between the Swallow and the Rochester, excited much interest. There was a great crowd at the docks. The pilots of the boats watched each other with the eyes of a hawk to discover the first signal given to the engineers to start, and there were men on deck to yell to the engineers at the least move of the walking beams, so that it was impossible for the Rochester to get out ahead of the Swallow and thus make an advantageous start. The boats started together, amid cheers from the crowd on shore. The regular stops on the way to Albany for both boats were Cornwall, West Point, Newburg, Poughkeepsie, Rhinebeck, Hudson, Coxsackie, and Kinderhook. Up the river went the Swallow and the Rochester side by side, the people running along the shore in a vain effort to keep up, and as soon as the boats got fairly under way, gangs of men appeared on deck and began to saw and cut wood.

But cut as fast as they could, the gang on the Rochester could not feed the furnace enough to send their boat ahead of the Swallow, and they went side by side to Caldwell’s Landing, a distance of forty miles, and at that bend in the river the Swallow slowly took the lead. Then was there excitement on the Rochester, and barrels of sperm oil were rolled out and the oil drawn out into five-gallon cans, which were thrown into the furnace. On board the Swallow the same thing was done, and one five gallon package after another was converted into speed, with the result of voluminous clouds of dense smoke from the funnels, which obscured everything in the wake of the racers.

The Swallow gradually increased her lead, and was two miles in advance at Newburg, having covered the distance, sixty-four miles, in 3 hours and 5 minutes. This was at the rate of over twenty miles per hour, and that time has never been much improved on, even at the end of half a century of progress in fast steam navigation.

A favorite point for observing the races between the Swallow and the Rochester was what was then Burnham’s Mansion House, on the Hudson, near the foot of the present Seventy-fifth Street. There it was no uncommon thing for thousands to congregate. At every landing on the river, also, there were crowds, and often cannon[s] were fired, bells rung, and colored lights sent up. Each boat carried hundreds of passengers on every trip, and many were the distinguished citizens of that generation who thus participated in those exciting races. The steamers were shoved out from the docks in New-York and from every landing with long poles, and as soon as the Swallow got ahead of the Rochester, the crew of the former would wrap the ends of the poles in hemp, soak the hemp in sperm oil, set the oil and hemp on fire, and push the flaming poles out through the windows of the engine room on each side of the boat to “light the way” for the Rochester. Although Daniel Drew was often on the Rochester, Hoffman never went up or down the river on the Swallow, but always patronized the day boat from Upper Red Hook.

His standing orders to the Captain of the Swallow were to keep ahead of the Rochester if he got to Albany with nothing left on board but the boiler and the hull, and to go past the landings if necessary. Frequently the mails were not landed at one or another town along the way until the down trip, but the Government fine of $50 for each failure to land mails was usually remitted. The Rochester never beat the Swallow, which was sold to Daniel Drew in 1844, who withdrew her from the Albany Line. On April 7, 1845, at 8 P. M., while running at full speed, in a blinding snowstorm, the Swallow ran on a rock near Athens. Although the boat sank only to the after gangway, 23 passengers out of 200 lost their lives by jumping into the water. The boat was raised and subsequently turned into a barge, and may still be in existence. The engines were taken to Troy, where they can now be seen dally, operating the machinery of the Burden Iron Works, apparently as good as ever.

On the sale of the Swallow, Mr. Hoffman withdrew from the New-York and Albany service. From that time to this, the People’s Line has run the following steamboats between New York and Albany, naming them in their order: The Westchester, the Emerald, the Rochester, the Utica, the (new) North America, the South America, the Knickerbocker, the Hendrick Hudson, the Isaac Newton, the Dean Richmond, the St. John, and the Drew. Of these, only the Dean Richmond and the Drew are now [1891] in active service.

The next great race on the Hudson was between Le Grand B. Cannon's Empire of the Hudson River Steamboat Association and the South America of Drew's People’s Line, after the introduction of coal for fuel. This occurred in July, 1847. The boats started from their perspective piers at 6:40 A. M., having no passengers on board, nor anything that would add weight to the boats and hamper their speed.

On the signal, both boats moved off together, to the cheers of a vast crowd, and ran side by side twenty-five miles, when the Empire forged ahead, and at Kinderhook, eighty miles above New-York, was nine minutes in advance. As the Empire neared Hudson, Engineer Lighthall approached Capt. Stephen R. Roe and said that it would be necessary to put in there to get coal, the supply having almost run out. Now Roe’s orders were to beat the South America or to burn the inside of the boat up, and to put in at Hudson for coal meant sure defeat, so he told the engineer to go ahead. "We are now in shallow water," he said, "the South America can't pass us, and all we've got to do is to keep the old thing going.”

They kept the old thing going. When the last pound of coal was in the furnace, they threw the fenders in after it, and then they burned the chairs and the tables, then they stripped the boat of all the light woodwork and burned that, too. A search was instituted, and a lot of demijohns and champagne baskets was found and sacrificed, and when the Empire reached the Lydius Street wharf in Albany there was literally nothing of her left, but the hull and solid woodwork. The race was so close that, as the Empire turned into her pier, the South America was abreast of the bulkhead. One of those on board the Empire visited the South America and found not a pound of coal in the bunkers or a chair or settee in the cabin. The Captain of the South America was L. W. Brainerd.

The third and last of the great ante-bellum races was that between the C. Vanderbilt and the Oregon, in July, 1860. The C. Vanderbilt was owned by Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt and the Oregon by George Law, father of the present Sixth and Eighth Avenue surface railroad magnate. The stake was $10,000. The start was from a stakeboat off the Battery, and the course was to and around a stakeboat off Sing Sing and return. No passengers or guests were allowed on either boat. The umpire on board the C. Vanderbilt was George Law and the umpire on the Oregon was Capt. Jacob H. Vanderbilt of Staten Island, brother of the Commodore. The Commodore was in the pilot house of the C. Vanderbilt from start to finish, and thus lost his $10,000, as the sequel will tell.

The start was made at 10 A. M., and the C. Vanderbilt got the lead at the outset, and kept it until the stakeboat off Sing Sing was reached. In turning the stakeboat the Commodore, in a fit of excitement and fancying that the boat was not swinging around fast enough, pulled what he thought was the signal for the engineer to increase speed. But he pulled the wrong bell, and, to his horror and to the rage of the pilot, the boat stopped, and the Oregon gracefully swung around and into the lead. The Commodore could swear fluently on all occasions, but the volubility of his profanity on that occasion beat his record.

The C. Vanderbilt was built in 1859 by Sneden at the foot of Tenth Street, East River. The Oregon afterward ran on the Stonington Line through Long Island Sound, and was impaled on a rook at Hell Gate at 2:30 o’clock one morning. [editor's note: around 3:30 and 3:45 a.m., April 18, 1846.] No lives were lost. The boat was got off the rock, but so many heavy keelsons were required in strengthening the frame that the boat never afterward developed great speed.

An appalling casualty marked one of the old-time races on the Hudson. This was the race between the Henry Clay and the Armenia, both boats of the smaller class, in 1850. The Armenia belonged to the People's Line, but is now one of the fleet of the Day Line, which consists of the New-York, the Albany, the C. Vibbard, and the Armenia. Of these, only the New-York and the Albany are in active service. The Henry Clay and the Armenia were racing from Albany, with a full complement of passengers and freight, and the Henry Clay was several miles in advance, when it took fire near the boiler. The boat was headed for the east shore of the river and was beached two miles below Sing Sing at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. The passengers congregated aft, but many of them were driven into the water by the flames, which were swept backward by the wind, and about fifty persons were either burned to death or drowned. Among the lost was Stephen Allen, a prominent citizen of New-York and one of the Croton Aqueduct Commissioners. The Armenia was too far in the rear to render assistance.

The opening of the New-York Central and Hudson River Railroad in 1851 completed the demoralization of the steamboat traffic on the Hudson, begun by the sale of the Swallow and the retirement of Mr. Hoffman. The decline of this branch of travel and transportation is shown by the great decrease in the number of Albany steam boats.

The Dean Richmond sank off Rondout in 1868. Several months and elaborate efforts were required to raise the boat, and this and the repairs cost over $100,000. The St. John was burned at the foot of Canal Street several years ago.

Of the modern Hudson River steamboats, the fastest are said to be the Mary Powell and the New-York. There are many who consider the New-York to be faster than the Mary Powell, but the two boats have never raced. Indeed, although the Mary Powell has long held the name of being the swiftest steamboat afloat — has enjoyed the reputation, indeed, since 1862 — it is asserted by steamboat men that she has never been in an actual race with another steamboat in her long career. In connection with some of the tales of high speed by the Mary Powell and other boats, it should not be forgotten that the tide in the Hudson, in places, runs at the rate of nine miles an hour.

The Utica, one of the old-time racers of the People’s Line, figured incidentally in 1840 in one of the biggest thefts on record. At that time there was no Adams Express, and the business of that kind was controlled by Pomeroy & Co., which firm had its head offices in Wall Street. The firm used black trunks for the transportation of its valuables, and the black trunk was the well-known sign of the business. Models of it were nailed to the tops of wooden posts all over town and all over the country. Most of the money passing between the bank of New-York and those of the West was forwarded by Pomeroy & Co.

In the year in question the Utica reached her pier from Albany at 4:30 o'clock one Monday with a black trunk for Pomeroy & Co., containing $600,000 in gold and notes. On the arrival of the steamer at the dock, a man went on board with a push cart and calmly walked off with the black trunk, which was in front of the Captain's office. When the agent for Pomeroy & Co. went for the trunk at 7 A. M., it was gone, and the whole city was in a hubbub in a few hours. There was no trace of the thief, as no one had paid any attention to him.

A man named Banks, proprietor of Rathbun's Hotel, Buffalo, and Philo N. Rust, proprietor of the Syracuse House, Syracuse, N. Y., and several others, all friends, came to town on the Utica, and the party bought a two-thousand-five-hundred-dollar team of horses, and spent money freely for champagne, and literally ‘‘painted things red.” James Watson Webb, then editor of the New-York Courier and Enquirer, received information that Banks and his friends had stolen the trunk, and he published a long story accusing them of the crime. The information was furnished by a clairvoyant, a woman who knew Rust. They were put under police surveillance for a long time, but were not arrested.

One day a man took a five-hundred-dollar note of the old Merchants’ Bank into that bank for payment, and Teller Felter at once recognized the note by a private mark as one of those in the missing black trunk. The man was detained, and he confessed to getting the note from a man in Baxter Street. This person, who proved to have been the man with the push cart, was arrested forthwith, on the very eve of his departure for the West, and the trunk was recovered, together with all of the $600,000, except $1,500, which had been invested by the thief in Western land warrants at $1.25 per acre. He was convicted and sent to prison. The thief did not know what was in the trunk when he took it.

Editor's Note: This series of blog posts recounts the dramatic story of the Esopus Indian Nation’s Revolutionary War exodus. The original inhabitants of Ulster County, the Esopus Indians successfully maintained their sovereignty and traditional way of life in the face of overwhelming odds for over a century. These blog posts are summaries of a much fuller story that will be published in 2027.

Part 6. Revenge: 1780-1781

Over the course of 1779, the Esopus Indian Nation had become refugees for the fourth time in as many years. With their women, children, and elders now safe on Buffalo Creek, a river that flows into Lake Erie, the warriors of the Esopus Indian Nation continued to return to their ancestral homeland in Ulster County on war expeditions. Due to the devastation of their towns and those of the rest of Indian Country in 1778 and 1779 from the Butler and Sullivan Expeditions, respectively, thousands of warriors were ready for retribution. Early in May of 1780, a small Esopus Indian warparty appeared near Saugerties with the aim of capturing Rebel officials. Led by Benjamin Shanks and John Runnupe, the small mixed expedition of Esopus and Catskill Indian warriors captured Captain Jeremiah Snyder and his son Elias.[1] Capt. Snyder was a militia leader who had recently commanded the fort at Shandaken. The two were busy working in a farmfield when they were taken. They would spend the rest of the war as prisoners in Canada. In July, John Runnupe returned on a second raid with six other Esopus and Catskill Indians, this time to Shawangunk. He intended to capture Colonel Johannes Jansen, but only succedded in taking seven of Jansen’s African slaves. Runnupe never made it back to Fort Niagara: at an unknown location, deep in the wilderness of the Catskill Mountains, the captured slaves waited for an opportune moment and killed Runnupe and three others before returning home to enslavement.[2]

According to British Indian Department records, over the spring and summer of 1780 around twenty five Esopus Indian warriors were involved in at least five expeditions to their ancestral homeland, with targets including the Saugerties area, Shawangunk and the Delaware River around Cochecton.[3] As noted earlier, they seem to have been frequently accompanied by the few Catskill Indian warriors that remained. For many generations, the Catskill Indians had been their close friends and neighbors to the north in what is now Greene County. Later in the summer, thirty four Esopus and Catskill Indians were noted as serving directly under Joseph Brant, likely in a raid against the Mohawk Valley.[4] In the meantime, their wives, children, and other non-combattants survived as best they could on Buffalo Creek, growing corn and other crops, hunting and fishing. In September, Benjamin Shanks returned to Ulster County with three other Esopus warriors to try again and recapture Colonel Johannes Jansen; upon arrival, they were joined by an old friend with Loyalist sympathies, prominent settler Samuel Gonsalus.[5] They failed to capture Col. Jansen, and in their haste to get back to Fort Niagara (in all likelihood, they urgently needed to return to support their families with hunting before winter), they had to kill all the civilian prisoners they had taken, including two of Jansen’s slaves, who may have been among the captives that had killed John Runnupe the year previous.[6]

Winter did not bring a break to the retaliatory raids: with so many thousands of refugees now living in Seneca Country, game animals quickly disappeared, and many of the refugees were on the brink of starvation. Expeditions to their distant Delaware and Hudson Valley homeland removed some mouths to feed while supporting the strategy of weakening Rebel forces by capturing commanders and burning farmland. As often as not, cattle, horses and other livestock captured in the raids were quickly consumed by the starving warriors. In February of 1781, an expedition of fourteen Esopus and Catskill warriors headed towards Ulster and Greene Counties, led by their chief sachem, Philip Houghtaling; they may have been part of the party that captured prominent local Rebel militia captain David Abeel in nearby Coxsackie.[7] According to British Indian Department accounts, in May of 1781 the total number of Esopus Indians living on Buffalo Creek included sixty five men, women and children who, but three years before, had been living in the shadow of the Catskill Mountains. Another 188 men, women and children on the census, who had lived on the Susquehanna River near the town of Chughnut, were also primarily Esopus Indians.[8] Along with Munsees from Chemung and their former Nanticoke and Shawnee neighbors of the Susquehanna, they were organized under Indian Department Lieutenant Henry William Nelles, a former resident of the Mohawk Valley.

In early August of 1781, an expedition of nearly four hundred warriors and Loyalist rangers raided the Rondout Valley. They burned dozens of houses around the settlements of Napanoch and Wawarsing and as far east as Mombaccus – areas that, mere decades earlier, formed the heart of Esopus Indian Country.[9] Although most of the warriors were Seneca, they were piloted by Esopus Indian scouts, who were intimately familiar with the settled parts of Ulster County. The Esopus Indian pilots, which included war captain Ben Shanks, abandoned the expedition as soon as it entered the Rondout Valley. According to one account, the Esopus pilots had been drying some damp black powder by the fire when it accidentally set abalaze, badly burning them.[10] The force of now-mostly Seneca warriors was soon completely lost, but “behaved beyond expectation while in the settlement[s] and on the road, having lost and got their people wounded.”[11] It’s possible that that the Esopus Indian pilots also decided to abandon the Seneca raid into their own homeland because of the failure of the Senecas to distinguish between Loyalists and Rebels, civilians and non-combatants in raids and battles elsewhere. From the early days of the war, the Esopus Indians’ leadership had always shown reluctance to cause unnecessary harm to their former Ulster County settler neighbors, many of whom they had once counted as close friends.
                                                                     To Be Continued…

Citations:
[1] The Catskill Indians were a Mohican-speaking band whose traditional homeland included all of Greene County and parts of Schoharie and Albany Counties to the north of the Esopus Indians. For at least two centuries, the Catskill Indians were the Esopus Indian Nation’s primary allies and the people with whom they shared the Catskill Mountains.
[2] “The Captivity of Jeremiah Snyder… During the Revolutionary War”  in The Ulster Sentinel, Kingston, NY on Wednesday, Jan. 31, 1827; transcribed by Archivist Lisa Bruck.
[3] Haldimand Papers, Reel h1448.1305. National Archives of Canada.
[4] Ibid., Reel h1448.1090.
[5] Quinlan, James Eldridge. History of Sullivan County. GM Beebe & WT Morgans, Liberty, NY: 1878. 395-396.
[6] Gray, John A. The Indians: Or Narratives of Massacres and Depredations on the Frontier in Wawasink and Its Vicinity During the American Revolution. Rondout, NY: 1846. 42.
[7] “Return of the Indian War Parties” in Haldimand Papers 21767 Pt 4. National Archives of Canada.
[8] Haldimand Papers, Reel h1449.55. National Archives of Canada.
[9] Public Papers of George Clinton, Vol VII. Albany, NY: 1900. 198-199.
[10] Gray, John A. The Indians: Or Narratives of Massacres and Depredations on the Frontier in Wawasink and Its Vicinity During the American Revolution. Rondout, NY: 1846. 45.
[11] Smy, William A. The Butler Papers, Part III (1780-1782). Brock University Collections, 1994.

On approaching Albany, three or four miles before we reach the banks of the Hudson, we rise to a considerable elevation, and have a beautiful view of the windings of that river and the Mohawk, through an amazing extent of country, studded with farms and villages, interspersed with the remains of the forest, and ranges of hills.  Far off to the northward, the eye is carried along a range of mountains till they are lost in the mists of the horizon.  Near sun-set, we arrived at Lansingburg, beautifully situated on the banks of the Hudson, opposite the mouth of the Mohawk.  It consists principally of one wide street, about a mile in length; the houses and stores are most of them of brick; it contains 2,000 inhabitants.  Leaving Lansingburg, we proceed three miles along the banks of the Hudson, which is here eight or nine hundred feet wide, and varied with fertile islands, and arrive at Troy, the third commercial town in the State of New York; it has the appearance of rising to importance, being well-built, compact, and at the head of light sloop navigation.  The site of Troy was occupied as a farm, in 1787; now here is a thriving well-built town of 5,000 inhabitants.  Passing through Troy, we crossed the Hudson, and after a drive of six miles, arrived at Mr. Moody's tavern, Market Street, Albany, where we staid.

ALBANY was first settled in 1614, by the Dutch, as a trading post with the Indians.  In 1664, along with the whole country, it passed into the hands of the English, and the settlement and fort, then called Orange, received its present name in honour to the Duke of York; in 1686, it received its city charter, which is the oldest of any in the United States.

Albany is the legislative capital of New York, and may justly be considered as "unrivalled in its situation"; distant from the city of New York, 160 miles, and at the head of the sloop navigation of the Hudson, it commands an extensive back country trade, not only with the most fertile parts of the State, but with parts of Vermont and Upper Canada.  It is laid out in streets extending along the river, and others crossing these; the site of the city rising about two hundred feet, one mile from the river; this street is built throughout with handsome four story brick stores; at the quay, vessels load and unload with the greatest facility.  Court Street and Market Street, are long and handsome, of an irregular width and direction, they are full of good shops.  Pearl Street is a handsome width, with many good houses, but it is disfigured by some old Dutch gables, and red pantiles.  State Street, in the centre of the city, is a noble street, crossing these and some others, it rises up the gentle bank of the river, and is from 100 to 130 feet wide.  The houses of Albany are four-fifths of brick, three or four stories high; the shops are as well stores with goods, and the wharfs present as much proportionate bustle as those of Boston, New York, or Philadelphia.
             "In 1812, 50 large sloops belonging to Albany.
                            60 . . . ditto . . . . ditto . . . .  Troy and Lansingburg.
                             26 . . . ditto . . . . ditto . . . .  New York, & c.
                             70 . . . ditto . . . . ditto . . . .  New Jersey and the Eastern States.
Amounting to   260
Including twenty schooners, paid wharfage duty by the year; besides these, 150
sloops and schooners paid transitory trading visits the same year."  Spafford.
 [Horatio Gates Spafford. A Gazetteer of the State of New-York.  Albany, 1813, p. 118,
col. 1]

The trade, since that time, is very much increased; above 125,000 quarters of wheat are exported yearly, besides every other sort of framing produce to a great amount.  (p.  245)  Manufactures of tobacco, chocolate, cast and wrought iron, and brass, leather, and wood, are in successful operation.  There are five breweries, several distilleries, hatteries, chandlers' works, and ship-yards; and in the neighbourhood, many grist and saw mills, and small manufactures.
***
The streets are well lighted, and mostly well paved, having side walks, but cellars and palisades project in some places, and present numerous pitfalls to the unwary.  That nuisance of some other American towns, "herds of pigs," are permitted, to the
disgrace of the authorities.

The dress, manners, and customs, are as in other principal towns.  The Dutch part of the population are said not to be famous for their hospitality, perhaps it is an unjust slander.  Education is well attended to by individuals and the State; Dutch schools are discontinued.

Albany contained 6,026 inhabitants in 1797; in 1810, the census gave 9,356; in 1813, they had increased to 12,000 [citing Spafford]; and now, 1817, can be little short of 14,000.  ***

The view from Albany across the river, near (p. 247) half a mile wide, is delightful; on the opposite bank are situated two villages about one mile apart, divided by fields studded with neat cottages and seats, and backed by a range of hills, covered with the varied productions of the forest.

The roads from various parts of New England strike through Albany; and I see by the Albany Gazette, that at least five hundred emigrants from the eastward, have passed through the city weekly since the first of September.  The Northern States are now little more than a nursery for the more inviting, temperate, and fertile regions of the West.

16th October, Thursday.  Having parted with Mr. Bent, at nine o'clock this morning, I took passage for New York, in the very fine steam-boat, CHANCELLOR LIVINGSTON, fare seven dollars, and boarded; one dollar is also charged for the State, toward forwarding the great Western Canal, which is to unite the waters of Lake Ontario with the Hudson, and thereby connect all the extensive and populating country round that Lake, and on the upper part of the St. Lawrence with Albany and New York.  This dollar charge appears to be unfair, and operates as a tax on those who travel by steam-boat on the Hudson, whether natives or foreigners; however, when I consider the utility and magnitude of the undertaking, and the ardent spirit for improvement manifested by the citizens of New York, I do not wonder at their passing such a law, and as it is not attached to the common passage boats, but only to the chartered steam-boats, and they are so excellently conducted, and the passage so reasonable, even with this extra demand; I am almost satisfied with it.
       
The CHANCELLOR LIVINGSTON is 526 tons burden, her length on deck 165 feet, breadth 50; she is extremely well fitted up for accommodation.  Fifty ladies can sleep singly, and 150 gentlemen can have the same privilege, besides births for the people employed about the vessel.  There are three gentlemen's cabins; one of them, the largest, is used for meals, in which all the passengers, ladies and gentlemen, dine; there is also one ladies' cabin, on deck; a smoking cabin, baggage-room, wash-room, clerk's office, and kitchen, all on deck.  the ladies are accommodated with female servants.
       
In descending from Albany, the shores of the river are gently rising, and well settled; many of the inhabitants are of Dutch descent.  At about half past twelve we arrived at Hudson, another city which was a wilderness, previous to 1784.  It contains about 5,000 inhabitants, and as a place of trade, ranks the fourth or fifth in the State.  It is distant 130 miles from New York, at the head of the ship navigation.  Several ships and brigs lay at the wharfs.  Hudson is built on a small bay; opposite it, in the river, which is here about one mile wide, is a low marshy island; beyond this, across the river, flourishes the handsome of village of Athens; and one mile lower down in Catskill, a considerable village, that gives its name to the township in which Athens, and two or three other villages are situated.  Here the extensive range of Apallachian Mountains commence, and running a south-west course, divide the middle and southern States from the western.
       
We passed many handsome villages and elegant seats in the course of the day, particularly the seat of the late R. R. Livingstone, forty-five miles below Albany; it is very handsome, and remarkable for having "flocks of near 1,000 sheep on its grounds, all
descended from the celebrated flock of Rambouillet, in France.  They are thought to
have improved in weight.  Six hundred and forty-five of these sheep are at least half-
bloods, many of them much higher grades."  [quoting Spafford]  Poughkeepsie, eighty-five miles from Albany, is romantically seated in a rugged indenture of the river, bounded left and right, by almost perpendicular cliffs.  The population of this village, in 1810, was 2,981, and of the township 4,670.  Towards evening, we reached that interesting part of the river called the high lands.  Here the channel is confined between perpendicular crags and hills, of the most romantic description; not so their names. Butter Hill is 1,432 feet, the Crow's Nest 1,330 feet, Bull Hill 1,391 feet, Anthony's Nose 1,128 feet, above the level of the river."  [quoting Spafford's Gazetteer again]  West Point is situated amongst these hills, and is rendered famous in history by the defection of Arnold, and the unfortunate death of the young and gallant Major André. It is a strong fortress, and contains a United States arsenal, a small garrison, and a military school.  Stony Point is on the other side of the river, below West Point, and was the scene of sanguinary conflicts during the war of independence.  By one next morning, we arrived at New York, performing the distance of 165 miles in sixteen hours, partly against the tide.  We called at six of seven places on our passage, landing and
receiving many passengers and baggage; all which however is done with much expedition; it does not detain the boat altogether ten minutes.

BEATING THE MARY POWELL. EXCITING RACE ON THE HUDSON RIVER. THE BLIND BOAT-BUILDER’S STILETTO AN EASY WINNER — CHAGRIN ON THE MARY POWELL.
Some time ago the steamboat Mary Powell beat Jay Gould's steam yacht, the Atalanta, and won the distinction of being the fastest boat on the Hudson River. Her owners have printed a little pamphlet descriptive of her virtues, in which they claim that she is “the fastest river boat in the world,” and have christened her the “Queen of the Hudson." She makes an average of twenty miles an hour, and, according to this pamphlet, “in the year 1882, she ran at the very fast rate of twenty-six miles an hour between Milton and Poughkeepsie, making the four miles in nine minutes.”

A look of scornful indifference was cast by the Goddess of Liberty on the forward deck of the Mary Powell, at a little mite of a yacht that steamed impertinently up alongside of her yesterday afternoon as she started from her pier at the foot of Twenty-second-st. The little yacht was only ninety-five feet long over all, with a water-line length of but ninety feet, and a beam width of eleven. Her stern declined into almost as narrow a line as her bow. She was built by Herreshoff, the blind boat-builder of Bristol, [R. I.,] and he brought her up the Hudson a few days ago to show her to Franklin Brandreth, of Sing Sing. He calls her the Stilleto [recte Stiletto]. He asserted that she could beat the Mary Powell in a straight-away race of thirty miles. That this question might be fairly tested, he sent word to Captain Anderson, of the Powell, that he might expect to be defeated by the [Stiletto] yesterday afternoon, and warned him to be ready to protect the honor of speed that the Powell had easily won and long carried.

Rumors of the contest got abroad among the Hudson villages and nearly a hundred ladies and gentlemen interested in yachting matters were among the boat’s [Powell's] passengers. When she came up the river, the [Stiletto] was in waiting. The Powell left her pier at precisely 2:38 o'clock. The [Stiletto] was some distance up the stream, and the two boats came abreast of each other near the elevators of the New-York Central Railroad. The contrast between them was extraordinary. The big wheels of one smote [hit] the waters defiantly, clouds of black smoke rolled out of her smokestacks, and her walking-beam plunged up and down with a force that made her decks tremble. The other, lithe and slim, looked like a needle on the waves, through which she slid with an easy, graceful motion, flinging the spray behind her.

Mr. Herreshoff sat on a camp-stool on the Stiletto’s deck. With him were Franklin Brandreth, Ralph Brandreth, Colonel E. A. McAlpin and Frank D. Robinson. The two boats cut the waves nose to nose, and the Powell's pilot eyed his saucy neighbor a trifle anxiously. Soon the firemen began to shovel on the coal, the steam gauge showed a pressure of thirty-six pounds, and the river boat bounded ahead. But the yacht’s smokestack belched out an angry cloud, and she whisked up to her first position bow to bow. The Powell made another effort to win the advantage, and crowded the steam to a pressure of thirty-nine pounds. But the yacht was again equal to the occasion and refused to yield an inch. The passengers began to get excited, and shouted bravos to the blind boat-builder. He answered the salute by rising and shouting: "Good-by! We're off now!"

He was as good as his work. The queer little craft shook with the earnestness of her effort. She swayed to and fro like a sloop beating to windward. Her bow parted the waves with a clean cut, but her screw whipped the water into foam, and threw it out behind, while with each revolution of her engine she shot nervously ahead. It was a great exhibition of speed, and the passengers of the Powell cheered loudly. At Manhattanville the Stiletto had cleared the steamboat and had turned into her course. She kept right on at this pace, passing the  Atalanta, which saluted with a gun shot, and when she drew up off Sing Sing, she had completed twenty-nine miles in one hour and seventeen minutes. She was then just two miles ahead of the Powell. 

The officers of the steamboat were much surprised, and said that it was the first time the Powell had taken another boat's swell. Mr. Herreshoff may sell the stiletto to Mr. Brandreth, who wants a fast boat, but he is strongly inclined to offer her for naval service as a torpedo boat. She shoots along without any other noise than is made by cleaving the water. Her boiler is a beehive coil, with the fire directly under it. He claims that it cannot explode, but even if it could, the danger would not be great, as it never contains more than a gallon of water at a time. She can carry 200 pounds of steam.
​
Just before the Powell came up to her pier, A. E. Bateman's steam yacht, the Skylark, stopped there, and took her owner and a party of ladies and gentlemen aboard. As she moved away, a tugboat with two scows in tow bore down upon her and struck her bowsprit, tearing it completely away and crushing her bow badly. The tug went unconcernedly on its course.

HUDSON RIVER STEAM BOATS.
For the information of the public,
The PARAGON, Capt. Wiswall, will leave New-York every Saturday afternoon, at 5 o'clock.
The CAR OF NEPTUNE, Capt. Roorbach, will leave New-York every Tuesday afternoon, at 5 o’clock.
The NORTH RIVER, Capt. Bartholomew, will leave New-York every Thursday afternoon, at 5 o’clock — and
The PARAGON will leave Albany every Thursday morning at 9 o’clock.
The CAR OF NEPTUNE will leave Albany every Saturday morning at 9 o'clock.
The NORTH RIVER will leave Albany every Tuesday morning at 9 o’clock.
 
                                                PRICES OF PASSAGE.
FROM NEW-YORK,               Dols.                FROM ALBANY,                     Dols.
To Verplanck’s Point,              2                      To Kinderhook,                        1.50
West-Point,                             2.50                 Coxsackie,                              2
Newburgh,                              3                      Hudson,                                  2
Wappinger’s creek,                 3.25                 Catskill,                                   2.25
Poughkeepsie,                        3.50                 Redhook,                                2.75
Hyde Park,                              4                      Esopus,                                   3
Esopus,                                   4.25                 Hyde Park,                              3.25
Redhook,                                4.50                 Poughkeepsie,                        3.50
Catskill,                                   5                      Wappinger’s Creek,                4
Hudson,                                  5                      Newburgh,                              4.25
Coxsackie,                              5.50                 West-Point,                             4.75
Kinderhook,                             5.75                 Verplanck’s Point,                   5.25
Albany,                                    7                      New-York,                               7
 
All other way passengers to pay at the rate of one dollar for every twenty miles.
No one can be taken on board and put on shore, however short the distance, for less than 1 dollar.
Young persons from two to ten years of age to pay half price.
Children under two years, one fourth price.
Servants who use a berth, two thirds price; half price, if none.
Every person entering a name on the book for a passage, shall pay at the time of so doing, otherwise the birth will not be considered as engaged. Any person who having paid, and afterwards declines to go, shall be entitled to a passage in the same boat at any future period, but not to have the money refunded.
One dollar to be paid for each dog or animal, not exceeding the size of a sheep — they are to be tied on deck forward of the foremast.
Every person paying full price, is allowed 60 lbs. of baggage — if less than whole price, 40 lbs — all surplus baggage to be paid for.

An Institution That Is a Model — Mrs. Murdock's Record In Government Service — The Life Saver Who Wears No "Hero" Medals and Refuses to Talk of Himself.
           
A short time ago a brief item in The Freeman announced the resignation of Mrs. Murdock as keeper of the Rondout light house and the appointment of her son to position. At the time of her resignation Mrs. Murdock enjoyed the distinction of being, with one exception, the oldest light house keeper in the service of the government, and in terms of continuous service, the oldest employee of the light house board. One other keeper is older than Mrs. Murdock, but none has served the government so long. In accepting her resignation the light house board wrote to Mrs. Murdock a letter congratulating her on her continuous service of more than 50 years and expressing its satisfaction with her faithfulness during that long period.  By reason of her long and excellent service Mrs. Murdock had before attracted the attention of the light house board and received letters of commendation which are highly prized.  In 1906 she was commended for the excellent order in which the light house was found and verbal commendations from inspectors have been frequent and warm.  Mrs. Murdock resigned August 28, 1907, and her resignation was accepted September 12.

Mrs. Murdock was appointed keeper of the Rondout light in 1856, when Franklin Pierce was president, and has, therefore held office continuously for more than 51 years, under the administrations of twelve of the 21 presidents that the country has had in its entire history.  Changes of administration have sometimes brought temporary anxiety and trouble, as some worthy patriot who yearned to serve his country as a lighthouse keeper would apply for the position, but in every case the government has declined to make a change.  To be in one spot for 51 years -- the "one spot" being so literally exact as in the case of the keeper of the Rondout light whose entire domain is an artificial island so small that one need not be much of an athlete to jump across it -- would seem to most persons a cheerless way of spending half a century, but it has left no indication of despondency or loneliness with Mrs. Murdock and her family.  A Freeman reporter who called at the light house a few days ago found it one of the neatest and most cheerful homes he had ever entered.
           
Mrs. Murdock, who is always described by reporters who visit the light house as "motherly," probably because that word so exactly describes her appearance and manner, bears her 79 years lightly, keeps up with the world's progress by reading The Freeman every evening and is perfectly content and happy in her home.
           
"Lonely? No, indeed." was her reply to a question.  "With all the boats going by and the view over the water why should anyone be lonely here?  But when I am away for a few days I am always ready to come back, for no other place seems like home."
           
Mrs. Murdock, who before her marriage was Miss Catherine A. Parcell, is a native of the town of Esopus and has spent nearly all of her life in that town, the Rondout light house being within the boundaries of Esopus and not in the city of Kingston as is generally supposed. Mrs. Murdock spent her early days at Ulster Park, residing in the house adjoining the school house.  She was married to George W. Murdock, a native of Stone Ridge, who was for a time keeper of the lower light house.  Later he was for a year and a half a guard at Sing Sing prison before being appointed keeper of the Rondout light house.  Within a year of his appointment he was drowned at Ponckhockie while on his way to the light house.  Mrs. Murdock was appointed to succeed him.  For a time, until her children grew up, she was obliged to employ a boy to row the boat, but for many years none outside of the family have shared in the duties of the position.
           
Until 1867 the light house was an old frame building. There were no dykes and boats could land directly at the light house pier. The present stone building was erected in 1867.  It is a comfortable eight-room residence, surmounted by the lantern.  With the building of the dyke came the necessity of lighting the dyke lights, three in number. Many times, Mrs. Murdock says, it has taken her son nearly the whole forenoon to get to the dyke lights to extinguish them when the creek was full of floating ice and he would have to alternately walk on the ice, dragging his boat, and row across the places where the ice was not strong enough to hold him. Often he would return with icicles hanging to his clothing and completely exhausted by the struggle. For a fortnight at a time it has been impossible to reach the shore.
           
With the growth of systematic ways of doing government business has come added work in the way of bookkeeping.  Records are now kept of the weather, the amount of oil burned each night, and the amount of wick burned.  Reports have been sent back because of a discrepancy of a gill in the account of the oil burned.  "It isn't such an easy job as folks think," says Mrs. Murdock, "and everything has to be in order all the time, for you never know when an inspector is coming.  He inspects not only the light, but the whole house, and everything must be in order."
           
That everything has been in order is proved by the long term of Mrs. Murdock's service and the complimentary letters she has received. Certainly no inspector could criticize the house as The Freeman reporter found it.  Aside from its interest as a light house, it has been made a museum of curiosities and mementoes by the family. Probably the most complete collection of pictures of Hudson river craft in existence has been gathered by the present keeper, Mrs. Murdock's son.  It covers Hudson river steamers from Fulton's first crude boat to the magnificent Hendrick Hudson. Another feature is Mr. Murdock's collection of table glasses from the various river boats, it has been added to from time to time.  Mr. Murdock's hobby is known to the river men, and as a result whenever a Hudson river man goes abroad or visits any remote place, he brings away with him a souvenir glass for "Jimmie" Murdock.  Each is labeled and placed in the collection. 
           
Life at the light house has not been without excitement. In the great freshet, when the Eddyville guard lock was washed away, it seemed for hours as though the building must be swept from its foundation. Again, a few years ago, when all of the boats in the creek were swept out by the ice and flood, it was feared that some of them would crash into the house, but it was not touched. At another time, when only one barge broke loose, it struck the light house dock. [editor's note: December 10, 1878 flood]
           
When the Charley Ross excitement was at its height, [1874] Mrs. Murdock's son-in-law bought a boat for her of a man who said he was from Albany.  She did not have the money to pay for it, and did not care to pay cash, as she feared it had been stolen.  The man, who was in the boat anchored along the flats, collected all but $5, and then went away.  Later detectives came, questioned and searched.  It developed that the man with the boat was Mosher, one of the captors of Charlie Ross.  Mrs. Murdock still chuckles over the notion the detective had that she wanted anyone else's children.  "I had enough of my own to take care of," she says, "and I told them so, too." Mosher never came back to collect his $5, and Mrs. Murdock says the detectives told her they believed she was the only person in the world who ever got ahead of Mosher in a business deal.
           
Another feature of life at the light house is the number of persons that have been saved from drowning by the keeper's family.  With the introduction of small motor boats, often sailed by people unfamiliar with the river, accidents have multiplied.  As many as three motor boats have run on the dyke in one week, often at night.  Sometimes the people realize their danger.  Often they do not.  Usually they feel humiliated by their experience, and say nothing about it.
           
Of this interesting feature of life at the light house the reporter sought information from James Murdock, the present keeper, but sought it vain.  The most definite statement he could get was, "Yes, I've pulled quite a lot of them out of the water, but let that go.  I'm not the one that ought to talk about it."  Pursuing the search for information further, the reporter asked a few questions of Mr. Murdock's mother and wife, while the keeper was absent, lighting the dock lights.
           
"I've often told Jimmie that he ought to be written up," said his mother, "but he always says 'Let others do the talking,' and there it ends. The reporters that come here always write about me, and never say anything about him. Once in a while there is a little item in the papers about some life he has saved and I have kept a lot of clippings, but half of the stories do not get printed at all because he never says a word to anybody.  No, I can't begin to tell you how many lives that boy has saved — I can't even give you a guess and he never kept track of it.  And then the risks he takes to oblige people. Why, not long ago he rowed four people over the river in an awful gale at night so they could get to Poughkeepsie by automobile."
           
"Why, I remember when the Glenerie sank," said the younger Mrs. Murdock, "he went out and saved a woman and that man they call Uncle Sam.  Often on dark nights we hear calls for help and he will row out and get people off the dyke, where they have run their motor boats.  In the ten years that I have lived here he has saved half a dozen from drowning, not counting those he has saved from spending a night on the dyke.  Has he ever had a medal?  Well I tell him he ought to have one, more than one, too, but he won't listen to it or do a thing — just says 'let the others do the talking.'"
           
"Oh, I don't know, I never kept a record, and anyway nobody would let a poor fellow drown," was the answer the reporter got from Mr. Murdock to a final appeal for some facts about his career as a life saver.  Then he started in to tell how the ferryboat saved a party stranded on the dyke from spending the night there and brought out a picture of the steamer City of Kingston in Seattle and insisted on changing the subject to anything but life saving.
           
The light house family now consists of representatives of three generations — Mrs. Murdock, the former keeper; her son James, the present keeper, who was born in the light house [editor's note: James, Sr. was born in the 1837 wooden lighthouse]; Mrs. James Murdock, who resided in a city before her marriage, but thinks the light house the finest spot on earth to live, and their son James Jr., born in the light house [editor's note: James Jr. was born in the 1867 bluestone lighthouse].