While very typical of her class, the Hobah's career is especially long, spanning 66 years. She was engaged on trade routes which were fully developed by the 17th century, and active through the early 20th. Those routes have been mapped by Oliver Dunn and a team of historians, and span the entirety of the British coast. Like many other late sail freighters, she carried mostly bulk cargos around areas with underdeveloped land transportation networks before the introduction of fossil-fueled trucks, and was quite successful.​

You can read more about the Hobah's career here. ​

So, sit back and enjoy the sounds of a satirical farewell to the first age of sail, and an ode to the harder, harsher, near-unsurvivable, tough old days of the "Real Navy" only remembered by Senior Chief Petty Officers who are nearing retirement.

LYRICS (From David Coffin's version):

Well my father often told me when I was just a lad
A sailor's life is very hard, the food is always bad
But now I've joined the navy, I'm aboard a man-o-war
And now I've found a sailor ain't a sailor any more

Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast
If you see a sailing ship it might be your last
Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore
A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore

Well the killick of our mess he says we had it soft
It wasn't like that in his day when we were up aloft
We like our bunks and sleeping bags, but what's a hammock for?
Swinging from the deckhead, or lying on the floor?

Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast
If you see a sailing ship it might be your last
Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore
A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore

They gave us an engine that first went up and down
Then with more technology the engine went around
We know our steam and diesels but what's a mainyard for?
A stoker ain't a stoker with a shovel anymore

Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast
If you see a sailing ship it might be your last
Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore
A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore

They gave us an Aldiss Lamp so we could do it right
They gave us a radio, we signaled day and night
We know our codes and ciphers but what's a sema for?
A bunting-tosser doesn't toss the bunting anymore

Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast
If you see a sailing ship it might be your last
Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore
A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore

Two cans of beer a day and that's your bleeding lot
And now we've got an extra one because they stopped The Tot
So we'll put on our civvy-clothes find a pub ashore
A sailor's still a sailor just like he was before

Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast
If you see a sailing ship it might be your last
Just get your civvies ready for another run ashore
A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore

​

​Today's Windjammer is the Preussen, the only five-masted full rigged cargo ship ever built, and the largest of the early 20th century windjammers. 482 feet long and carrying up to 8,000 tons of Nitrates from Chile to Germany per voyage, she was designed to round Cape Horn and return at great speed, making up to 20.5 knots under up to 73,000 square feet of sails. She was the pinnacle of the sailing vessel, and was in service for 8 years carrying nitrates and general cargo.

An account of the collision from the Preussen's Helmsman is available here. It includes a detailed description of the ship's equipment and accommodations, as well as the account of the collision and grounding. ​

                                                                             Belle Horton
                                                                        
Constructed as a replacement for a steamboat that had been destroyed by fire, the “Belle Horton” was in service for 25 years on various routes and finally was also the victim of the flames which brought to a close the careers of many of the Hudson river steamboats.

The wooden hull of the “Belle Horton” was built by Van Loan and Magee at Athens, New York, in 1881, and her engine- a vertical beam type with a cylinder diameter of 32 inches with a seven foot stroke- was the product of Fletcher, Harrison and Company of Hoboken, New Jersey. The vessel’s hull measured 135 feet, six inches in length, with a breadth of beam listed at 25 feet five inches, and a depth of hold of seven feet five inches. Her gross tonnage was listed at 305, and her net tonnage at 224.

The “Belle Horton” was built for the Citizens’ Line of Troy to take the place of the steamboat “Golden Gate,” which had been destroyed by fire during the summer of 1880. Due to the shallow water in the upper Hudson river between Troy and Albany, the larger night boats, “City of Troy” and “Saratoga,” sometimes experienced difficulty in navigating the river between these two cities, and the “Belle Horton” was often used as a tender to these two larger vessels. Because of her fine lines and graceful appearance the “Belle Horton” became a favorite with the river-minded public and she was used frequently for excursion parties on the upper Hudson river during the summer months.

The year of 1894 marked the end of the steamboat “Belle Horton” in excursion service, and she was then chartered out to run between Newark and New York. The following two years, 1895 and 1896, found the “Belle Horton” in service between Keyport, N.J., and New York on the route formerly traversed by the steamboat “Magenta,” which had been chartered to run between the Battery, in New York city, to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

During the time of the Spanish-American War, 1897-1898, the “Belle Horton” was running between New York city and Norwalk, Conn., and in 1899 she was returned to Troy where she was again used for excursion purposes. For one month during this period in her career the “Belle Horton” was in service between Peekskill and New York, replacing the steamboat “Chrystrah,” which was laid up for repairs to a broken shaft.

The beginning of the 20th century closed the career of the “Belle Horton” on the waters of the Hudson river. The trim little steamboat was sold and taken to Norfolk, Va., where she was placed in service as an excursion boat on the James river. She sailed the James river between Norfolk and a place called Pine Beach, and the name “Belle Horton” disappeared from her sides- giving way to the name “Pine Beach.” In 1906, after a quarter of a century of service, the “Pine Beach” was destroyed by fire- thus erasing from active service the steamboat which had been known to travelers of the Hudson river as the “Belle Horton.”

The Hudson River Maritime Museum has an extensive collection of oral histories interview of Hudson River commercial fisherman, including fisherman Edward Hatzmann, who was interviewed on April 25, 1992. Below, Hatzmann recalls a story told to him by fellow fisherman Charlie Rohr, about a prison break from Sing Sing Prison in Ossining, New York.

Unlike some fishermen's tales, this one was really true! Fisherman Charlie Rohr really did have to deal with the prisoners. He was interviewed for the Yonkers, NY Herald Statesman in an article published April 14, 1941. The article is transcribed in full below:

"'We're Going To Bump You Off!' Killers Promise Charlie Rohr. But Shad Fisherman, Who Rowed Fugitives Across Hudson, Talks Them Out of It and Escapes Alive"

OSSINING - Charlie Rohr is alive today, but from now on he feels he's living on borrowed time. Rohr is the shad fisherman who rowed two desperate escaped convicts across the Hudson River and then talked himself out of being their third victim.

"It was pretty tough sitting there with two guys holding guns to you," Rohr reported, "but it didn't do any good to lose your head."

Rohr and another fisherman were getting their equipment together in their shack shortly before 3 A.M., preparatory to rowing out to their weirs. A series of shots broke the pre-dawn stillness but the men didn't pay much attention to it.

"I thought it was just a brawl," Rohr said.

The other fisherman went upstairs for a minute, and Rohr stepped to the door of the shack on Holden's Dock. Two men, white-shirted and in the gray trousers unmistakably of Sing Sing Prison, confronted him. Two guns were held against his stomach.

"Is this your boat?" one growled.

"Yes," said Rohr.

"Get going then," he was told. "And fast - we've just killed a cop."

Rohr wasn't having any. "You take the boat," he urged.

"You're rowing," he was told. "Get going."

The trip across the river took an hour - the longest hour of Charles Rohr's life. The thugs sat in the center and stern seats of the boat, and trained their guns upon him during the entire trip. Rohr worked the oars, and then men whispered back and forth.

The fisherman pulled up at a point near Rockland Lake on the west bank. The convicts prepared to leave the boat.

"Now," said one in an expressionless voice, "we're going to bump you off."

"Listen," said Charlie Rohr, his mind working faster than it ever had before, "that won't do you no good."

The men paused.

"I'm well known around here, see? Everyone knows my boat. And if you knock me off, and the boat's around here, everyone is going to know what happened and where you guys got away."

They were still listening, so Rohr kept on.

"What you'd better do is let me go back. Then no one's going to know anything about this."

Four eyes regarded him coldly. Then the pair whispered together for a minute. 

Charlie Rohr held his breath, and then his heart leaped. The men jumped from the boat and ran into the woods on the shore of Rockland County. He rowed back across the river with shaking knees. 

Joseph Riordan and Charles McGale were caught in Rockland County and returned to prison. Charlie Rohr went back to fishing.

​If you'd like to hear more stories from Edward Hatzmann, check out his full oral history interview, available on New York Heritage. For more fishermen's oral history interviews, check out our full collection.

​If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!​

The size and number of ships on the Mediterranean Sea in this period began to increase, as cities grew in population and trade increased. Grain, wine, and olive oil from Egypt and Syria, as well as Spain and North Africa, were essential to keeping Rome fed, and the voyage could take weeks against contrary winds, resulting in the need for a large fleet with seasonal availability. It also meant that the ships had to be tough and seaworthy, which they were, but they weren't necessarily fast: Some made an average of barely 2 knots per hour when sailing against the wind. Downwind, they could make average speeds of just over 6 knots. 

These sailing craft were the result of many generations of development and cultural exchange between the Greeks, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Iberians, Romans, and Latins, ideally suited to their environments and available materials. Without them, the cultural and material exchange which allowed these cultures to flourish would have been impossible, as would many of the future developments in navigation and shipbuilding which are discussed in this series. Unfortunately, they also had a profound ecological impact: Despite their being built of wood, a renewable resource, the demand for ship timbers and fuel was higher than the forests growth rates at many points, and led to deforestation and desertification which still has effects on the local ecosystems today. With a modern understanding of forest management, this can be avoided, but there is a limit which must be worked within to keep both a healthy forest, and a healthy fleet.

If you're interested in these ancient ships, their construction, and use, I recommend starting with Sailing From Polis To Empire, available free as an E-Book at the link. 

By William O. Benson as told to Ann Marrott

SLEIGHTSBURGH — Labor Day on the Hudson signified the last runs of the excursion steamers for the summer — especially for the people who had come up from New York City to spend the summer around the Catskill Mountains and Kingston. 

It always seemed that on Labor Day, people didn’t appear so happy — especially the children.  When you saw the boats come up in early June or July, the children would be so happy. But when getting on the boats going back Labor Day Weekend, they would all be nice enough, but there would be no joy. 

Labor Day was one holiday I hated as a boy, because the next day I had to go to school. The Hudson River Day Line would run extra boats on Saturday and Sunday and Labor Day.  And if you were out on Kingston Point on that holiday there would be a number of boats coming out of New York to bring the people back.  Everyone wanted to get home the day before school started. All those boats would be loaded going to Bear Mountain. The Central Hudson Line would be running boats up to Beacon, Newburgh and Poughkeepsie. Labor Day was also the last excursion of the “Homer Ramsdell” and it would be advertised in the papers. 

Now, if you brought the New York World back then you would see two whole pages full of steamboat listings.  There would be steamboats listed there that people today have probably never heard of, such as the “Grand Republic,” the “Commodore,” the “Benjamin Franklin” and the “Sea Gate.” The “Sea Gate” could carry 500 to 600 people.  But the bigger boats you would see would be the “Benjamin E.  Odell,” the “Robert Fulton,” the “Albany,” the “Onteora,” and the “Clermont.” Some of the big Day Line boats could carry 3,000 or 4,000 people.  The “Washington Irving” could carry 6,000 people. 

I remember one Labor Day on the “Albany.”  A lot of people got off her at Bear Mountain and this poor, stout woman came rushing down the pier, screaming and yelling.  Her children were on the boat and it was already leaving.  So the mate yelled back to her, “We'll put them off at Newburgh in charge of the dockmaster there. You'll have to get them at Newburgh.” Anyway, the purser took them under his wing and when they got to Newburgh the dockmaster took care of them.  I’m not sure how they made out, but I’m sure they were fine.  You used to see that all the time!!

The[n] after Labor Day the boats would get back to their regular schedules.  Most of the captains on those boats, especially George Greenwood, the captain of the “Benjamin B. Odell,” were always glad to see Labor Day come.  George was always worried with so many people on the boat during the summer excursions, of a fire starting in the staterooms.  Some of the boats did run after Labor Day on a Saturday or a Sunday to carry passengers to Bear Mountain or an excursion out of Kingston, but they wouldn’t have the big crowds. 

I looked forward to Labor Day, too, when I worked on the boats.  You knew the boats were going to only run another day or two.  Then she was headed for the Rondout Creek to tie up for the winter and you could go home.  All during the summer you never got home much on those boats. 

Whatever boats were the most expensive to run were tied up first — right after Labor Day.  The Day Line, after the holiday, operated only two boats.  Sometimes for two weekends in September they would have, for example, the “Robert Fulton” ready to come out for a fall excursion to see the Hudson River fall foliage. 

When the boats were tied up we worked on them until the first of November cleaning the boat and painting her.  Then of course you were laid off for the winter. In those days if you saved $150 to $200 during the summer you would have it made. You could live very comfortably all winter long.  Some of us would get jobs ashore, which I used to do.  I always looked forward to spring, when I could get back on the boats.

After Labor Day — during the fall and winter — was the busiest time for workmen in the  Cornell Steamboat Company shops.  When the river was freezing over and navigation was closing, that’s when they started to repair and clean up the boats.  Sometimes they would employ 400 or 500 men during the winter.  They had the boiler gang, machinists, sawyers, painters, blacksmiths, the coaling gang and the bull gang—they did all the heavy work.  They also had a lot of white collar workers.  Everyone worked to get the boats ready for the next season.

In honor of the attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, we are sharing one of our favorite and most poignant documentary films about that day, "Boatlift." 

"Boatlift" chronicles the marine evacuation of lower Manhattan during the attacks. Narrated by Tom Hanks, this short film highlights the ordinary people who stepped up to help strangers in a time of crisis. 

If you would like to learn more about the evacuation and the people involved, read Jessica DuLong's book Saved at the Seawall: Stories from the September 11 Boat Lift or catch up on her 2021 lecture for the Hudson River Maritime Museum, "Heroes or Human: September 11th Lessons on the 20th Anniversary," as recorded below. 

​If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!​

{letter from S. Howard, addressed to the Mayor] Being born in the city of London, and having had many opportunities of being an eye-witness to the amazing effects of the FLOATING ENGINES, it surprises me that you are without them, as no city in the world is better situated for water.  Two Engines would be sufficient for the purpose, which may be brought from London, and here fixt in proper Barges: the cost I will answer will not be more than 800..  Proper moorings be laid down for them, one opposite the Fly-Market, in the East River, the other opposite in the North-River, they will then be ready to move to any part where the fire should break out, and in that situation they will be able with the assistance of leather pipes of sufficient length, to meet and jointly play to the top of any house in William street.  . . . if the fire should break out near the water side, as was the case at Murray's wharf, the whole block of houses would have been saved. . . .  You will want no buckets, nor need you fear the want of water as long as there is water in the Rivers.  The Barges are constructed with wells like those of your Fishing Boats. . . .  ***
            D Advertiser, January 4, 1796, p. 2, col. 1.  The fire at Murray's wharf started December 9, 1796.
 
            The Engines lately brought from England is ordered for public inspection THIS DAY, at 1 o'clock, opposite the Tontine Coffee-house.  The Floating Engine cannot be worked till the barge is built; which will take up one month; it will then be exhibited for the inspection of the public.
            N-Y Gazette & General Advertiser, November 10, 1800, p. 3, col. 1.
 
            [letter advocating a floating fire-engine]  . . . even in this severe season, when there is almost an impossibility of getting water from the quantity of ice that surrounds the city: -- say the Barge that the Engine is in being fixt in the ice . . . , yet still there is no danger that the Engine will not work, as it draws the water from the bottom of the river. . . .  ***
            ***
            I have observed that when a fire unfortunately happens, the bells are set to work, which sounds are really terrifying -- to the fair sex I am sure it must be shocking -- and serves the purpose of calling together a set of people whose business, I am sorry to say, is too frequently nothing but plunder. . . .  THOMAS HOWARD.
            N-Y Gazette & General Advertiser, January 18, 1797, p. 2, col. 4.
 
            [two floating fire engines arrive from London]
            N-Y Gazette & General Advertiser, October 28, 1800, p. 3, col. 1.
 
            By desire of several gentlemen, the Fire Engines lately imported into this city, are to be tried to-morrow, 12 o’clock, at Burling-slip (if fair weather.)  The Firemen are respectfully desired to attend in order that they may have a fair trial, both by suction from the wet, and by the leaders into Pearl-street.
            Commercial Advertiser, November 20, 1800, p 3, col. 1.
 
            [store belonging to Mr. Saltus, Front-street, burns; $100K in damages]
            Commercial Advertiser, December 15, 1800, p,. 3, col. 2;
            [praise for  "the new modelled Engines lately brought to this city"]  The great utility and advantage of these new engines was very conspicuous; for they not only supplied other engines with water without the aid of a single bucket, but were likewise eminently useful in throwing a much larger quantity of water on the flames than any other engines in this city were capable of doing.
            Commercial Advertiser, December 17, 1800, p. 3, col. 2.
 
            On Friday evening last the ship Thomas, owned by Thos. Jenkins, of Hudson, laden with 1700 hhds flax seed, and a quantity of flour and pot ashes, drifted on shore at Corlaer's Hook and bilged; she was freighted and cleared out for Londonderry, and has now 6 or 8 feet water in her hold; but it is expected she will be got off with part of her cargo.  The fate of this ship is very singular: she was formerly the Admiral Duncan, of Liverpool, and was burned to the water's edge at this port, with a valuable cargo, after being cleared for Europe, precisely a twelve month previous to her present disaster.
            Commercial Advertiser, January 19, 1801, p. 3, col.  1

            Last evening about 9 o'clock fire was proclaimed from all directions.  The armed ship Admiral Duncan, laying at the [illegible] wharf near Coenties Slip, took fire, and in a few minutes after the discovery, was enveloped in flames -- she was cut loose and towed into the stream, where she continued till [about] 2 o'clock this morning, when, in spite of every effort, she drifted back, (the wind being high at N. E.,) and fortunately lodged on the rocks on the point of the battery, where she burnt to the water's edge.  ***
            Commercial Advertiser, January 18, 1800, p. 2, col. 5
 
                        Ship THOMAS -- late ADM. DUNCAN.
            WE, the owners of the above ship, return our thanks to the Mayor and Corporation for the loan of the late imported Fire Engine, to raise the said ship; which, with every possible assistance, we have accomplished.  At the same time, we are sensible of the service and assistance of Mr. Howell, who was directed by the Corporation to take charge of the same. . . . It is a pleasing circumstance to learn from the above letter, that we are now in possession of Engines that are found to be useful on more occasions than extinguishing fires.  It was never before suggested that they might be applied to the raising of ships or vessels sunk, but of which the circumstance above mentioned gives a most decided proof of their utility. . . .
            Commercial Advertiser, January 28, 1801, p. 3, col. 1