Editor's note: The following text was originally published on September 21, 1878 in "Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper. Thanks to volunteer researcher George A. Thompson for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. I was awfully glad when a friend proposed a trip to Saratoga. I had been awfully jolly in New York, but New York had gone out of town, leaving nothing but its streets and its tram-cars behind it. In London we have such a perpetual flow of visitors — over one hundred thousand daily — that a fellow doesn't so much miss the "big crowd" as here, consequently when Saratoga was decided upon I felt extremely pleased indeed. I had heard much of the palatial river steamers, and expected much. I was down at Pier 41 at an early hour, and found the whole place occupied by one boat. Such a boat! white as the driven snow, and larger than many an English village. The people kept going into her until I imagined some game was up, and that they were stepping out at the other side. No such thing; there was room for all ay, and more. It was something immense to see the men getting into line for the ticket-office, with as much precision as if they were on parade. No hurry, no crush, the regular "first come, first served" business, not as with us, when the biggest man comes to the front, and muscular Christianity tops over everything. And the luggage! mountains of it, from enormous nickel-bound boxes, fit to carry Cleopatra's Needle, to dainty hand-bags, such as Queen Victoria's take with them when rushing at sixty miles an hour "Upon Her Majesty's Service.' Near the gangway stood a handsome, gentlemanlike man, whose semi-naval uniform looked as though cut by Smallpage, of Regent Street. This, I was informed, was Captain Roe, one of the most courteous and best-respected captains of the sea-like rivers of America. I was instructed by my friend to take a state-room — at home I would have asked for a berth — and, paving paid my money, became intrusted with the key of a charming little bedroom, better fitted up than that of my club, and boasting an electric bell. ... A gong sounded for dinner, and, following a strong lead, as we do at whist, I found myself in a large, brilliantly-lighted apartment, set with several tables. The menu was extensive enough to meet the requirements of the most exacting appetite, while the viands bore witness to skillful cookery. After dinner I went for a stroll, yea, a veritable stroll — always striking against the bride and bridegroom — in a saloon picked out in white and gold, the chandeliers burning gas, and the motion being so imperceptible that the glass drops did not even waggle — on a carpet fit for Buckingham Palace, and in a grove of sumptuous furniture; then for'ard, where many gentlemen in straw hats were engaged in discussing the chances of General Grant for something or other, I know not what; then aft, where many ladies sat in picturesque traveling attitudes, gazing at the soft outlines of the shore on either hand, some alone and some doing the next best thing to flirting. What a sleep I had! No more motion than if I was at the club. No noise, no confounded fume of train-oil and its rancid confrères. I slept like a humming-bird, and next morning found myself at Albany. This place is on a hill, surmounted by a white marble building, and Capitol, which, when competed, will be an awfully imposing affair. I took the train for Saratoga — a drawing-room car — and such a boudoirette on wheels! — I felt as if I was in a club-window all the time. Saratoga is awfully jolly. It is the best thing I have seen, with its main street as wide as the Boulevard Malesherbe or Haussman, and lined for a mile and a half with magnificent elms, which shade hotels as big as some European towns. It is always thronged with carriages just like Rotten Row in the season, and lots of people on horseback. The piazzas of the hotels are crowded with stunningly pretty girls, dressed, all over the place. Overhead is an Italian sky, blue as sapphire, and a golden tropical light falls around, picking out the shadows in dazzling contrast. "I guess," as the Americans say, I'll drive my stakes pretty deep here. 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!
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Editor's note: The following text about a sloop journey up the Hudson River in 1801 was originally published In The Life of Charles Brockden Brown" by William Dunlap, Philadelphia 1815. Thanks to volunteer researcher George A. Thompson for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. p. 50 July 7, 1801 Very suddenly conceived the design of voyaging up the Hudson river, as far as Albany. Had heard much of the grandeur of its shores, but never had gone above ten miles from New York. My friend C. having some leisure was willing to adventure for ten days or a fortnight, and I having still more, and being greatly in want of air and exercise, agreed to accompany him. We found a most spacious and well furnished vessel, captain R.----- in which we embarked at sunset this day. The wind propitious and the air wonderfully bland. p. 51 We bade adieu to our friends B.----- J.----- and D.----. I took my post at the stern, and found much employment for my feelings, in marking through the dusk, the receding city and the glimmering lights; first of quays and avenues, and afterwards of farms and village. It is just three years since my visit to New York in 1798. an interval replete with events, various and momentous. Some of them humiliating and disastrous, but, on the whole leading me to my present situation in which I have reason for congratulation. July 8, 1801 I write this seated in the cabin, from the windows of which, we have a view of wooded slopes, rocky promontories and waving summits. Our attention has been, for some time, fixed upon Stony Point, a memorable post in the late war, a spot familiar to my ears since my infancy, but which I have now seen for the first time. It is a rocky and rugged mass advancing into the river, the sides of which are covered with dwarf cedars, and the summit conspicuous still with some remains of fortification, a general solitude and vacancy around it, and a white cow grazing within the ruinous walls, produce a pleasing effect on my imagination. A craggy eminence, crowned with the ruins of a fortress, is an interesting spectacle every where, but a very rare one in America. I much wished to go ashore and ascend this hill, but it was not convenient. What are called the highlands of the North river, are a mountainous district, through which the river flows for some miles. I had heard much of the stupendous and alpine magnificence of the scenery. We entered it this morning, with a mild breeze and serene sky, and the prospect hitherto has been soft and beautiful. Nothing abrupt, rugged or gigantic. Farms and cultivated fields seldom appear. Six or eight vessels like our own, have been constantly in sight, and greatly enliven the scene. We are now at anchor, have just dined. My companions have gone to sleep. The utmost stillness prevails. Nothing to be heard but the buzzing of flies near at hand, and the (p. 52) cawing of distant crows. We lay surrounded on all hands by loftier ridges, than I ever before saw bordered by water. We have formed various conjectures as to the heights of these summits. The captain's statements of five and six hundred feet are extravagant. Three hundred would be nearer the truth. Few or none of them are absolute precipices, but most of them are steep, and not to be scaled without difficulty. I have gazed at the passing scene from Stony Point to West Point, with great eagerness, and till my eye was weary and pained. how shall I describe them. I cannot particularize the substance of the rock, or the kind of tree, save oaks and cedars. I am as little versed in the picturesque. I can only describe their influence on me. My friend is a very diligent observer, and frequently betakes himself to the pen. Heavy brows and languid blood has made me indolent, and I have done nothing but look about me, or muse for the last two days. On Thursday afternoon with a brisk southward gale and a serene sky, we left the highlands. At the spot where the mountains recede from the river, the river expands into a kind of lake, about two miles wide and ten miles long. The entrance is formed by cliffs, lofty, steep and gloomy with woods, which the borders of the lake itself are easy slopes, checkered with cultivated fields, farms and villages. The highlands from the heights and boldness of the promontories and ruggedness of the rocks, and the fantastic shape the assume, fully answer the expectations which my friends had excited. But the voyage over the lake, exceeded whatever my fancy had pictured of delightful. Three populous villages, Peekskill, New Windsor and Newburg, and innumerable farms decorate its borders. Yesterday we moved but slowly, the wind becoming adverse. At noon we drew into a wharf at Red-hook, and remained there till evening. My friend and I seized the opportunity of wandering. The river bank is lofty, and wooded as usual, but no wise remarkable. p. 53 Some hours before, a waving and bluish line in the horizon reminded us of the Kaats-kill mountains. These are seen very advantageously from Red-hook, distant about twenty miles, and appear of stupendous height. Their elevation has been ascertained, but I do not recollect what it is. We roamed along the shore and among the bushes, highly pleased with the exercise, and concluded our rambles with a bathing in the river. In leaving the sloop, I left most of my sluggish feelings behind me, and walked enough to make the night's repose acceptable and sound. With the tide to favour us we left Red-hook at eight o'clock, but were obliged to anchor again before morning. At six o'clock my friend and I accompanied the captain ashore, in search of milk and blackberries. I have since seated myself on deck, watching the shore, as the breeze carried us along. My friend is busy with his spy glass, reconnoitering the rocks and ay stacks, and surveying the wharves and store houses of Lunenburg and Hudson, villages we have just passed. I have observed but little besides a steep bank, roughened by rocks and bushes, occasionally yielding to slopes of a parched and yellowish soil, with poor cottages sparingly scattered, and now and then a small garden or field of corn. A fellow passenger left us at Hudson. One only remaining, a Mr. H.---- of Albany, a well behaved man, whose attention is swallowed up by Mrs. Bennet's "Beggar Girl." [Editor's Note: A 7 volume work by Anna Maria Bennett in 1797 "The Beggar Girl and Her Benefactors"] The sloop's crew consists of captain, mate, a man and a boy as cook; all orderly, peaceful obliging persons. The cabin being perfectly clean and comfortable, and provisions plentiful and good, we have no reason to regret the delays occasioned by adverse winds, and by calms. I have some vacant moments when a book might amuse. The captain's whole stock consists of a book on navigation, Dillworth's Arithmetic, and Goldsmith's Citizen of the World. I have looked into the last, but it does not please me. The fiction is ill supported, the style smooth and elegant, but the sentiments and observations far from judicious or profound. The mate has been telling me his adventures. A very crude and brief tale it was, but acceptable and pleasing to me. (p. 54) A voyage round the globe is a very trivial adventure, now-a-days. This man has been twice to Nootka, thence to Canton, and thence to Europe and home. He performed one whaling voyage to Greenland, and was fifteen months a seaman in a British seventy-four. His South Sea voyage occupied eighteen months, during which there was neither sickness nor death among the crew. 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!
Editor's note: The following text was originally published in 1831 and 1834 from the newspapers listed below. Thanks to volunteer researcher George A. Thompson for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. Racing of Steamboats. – We are sorry to learn that the practice of putting certain steamboats to a competition of speed, on the North River, has been resumed this season. This practice is in itself highly reprehensible, and in the present state of alarm, in consequence of the late fatal explosion on board the General Jackson, it is an act of disrespect to the passengers, and to those of a more timid make, particularly ladies, an act of absolute cruelty. If the proprietors of the boats engaged in this practice were to give fair notice – if they were to advertise that on such a day there would be a trial of speed between certain boats – that people would not then be landed at Colwell's and West Point, and other usual landing places along the river – that the steam would not be let off at the few places where the boats stopped to leave or take in passengers; and that those only who were willing to risk their lives under such circumstances, were desired to become passengers, then all would be fair. Those who liked to witness the sport, and were willing to run the hazard of being blown up, could then go on board; and those who preferred a safe and comfortable passage, could take some other boat. Besides the alarm and terror of the passengers, there are other inconveniences. A gentleman sets out with his family, on a trip of pleasure, to go to West Point. In spite of his remonstrance, he is carried by West Point, and landed at Newburgh, amidst a mob of people, assembled at the wharf to witness the race between the boats. Here he is obliged to stay in a grog shop for several hours, waiting for a boat to come along and take him down again to his place of destination. In the meantime, his only amusement is to witness the tumultuous excitement which the strife between the boats has created among the people who are divided into regular factions on the subject; and who celebrate, as we are informed, the victory of a favorite boat, with discharges of rockets, and other fire-works. New-York Evening Post, June 27, 1831, p. 2, col. 1 Hyde Park, Sunday, Sept. 14. -- We left Albany at half-past six this morning, in the steamboat "Champlain." There is a violent opposition between two lines of boats. The fare to New York is fifty cents. We were contending with the "Nimrod" all the way down, and for five or six miles before we reached Hyde Part landing, the boats were in contact, both pushing furiously at the top of their speed, and we and our trunks were pitched ashore like bundles of hay. The people at the landing being all in favour of the opposition, except Dr. Hosack himself, nobody would take a line, and we might have drowned without an arm being reached to save . September 16. -- We left Hyde Park and came on board the "Champion," an opposition boat, at half-past twelve o'clock. The "Albany," passed the landing a few minutes in advance, but did not stop. Our boat had three or four hundred passengers, and such a set of ragtag and bobtail I never saw on board a North-river steamboat -- the effect of the fifty-cent system. If the people do not rise up in their might and put a stop to the racing and opposition, it will be better to return to the primitive mode of travelling in Albany sloops. I would rather consume three or four days in the voyage, than be made to fly in fear and trembling, subject to every sort of discomfort, with my life at the mercy of a set of fellows whose only object is to drive their competitors off the river. Philip Hone, The Diary of Philip Hone, 1828-1851, Bayard Tuckerman, ed., N. Y.: Dodd, Mead, 1889, vol. I, pp. 111-12, entries of September 14 & 16, 1834. 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!
On the bitter cold winter night of December 16, 1835 a fire caused by a burst gas pipe ignited by a coal stove broke out in lower Manhattan and burned for hours. The gale-force winds spread the flames rapidly across 17 city blocks. The frozen East River and Hudson River hampered the fire-fighting efforts. More than 600 wood frame buildings were destroyed. The Hudson River Brick Industry flourished during the rebuilding process as more durable brick replaced the former wooden buildings. Watch at www.hrmm.org/lecture-series for upcoming Follow the River Lectures in 2023 to learn more about the Great Fire and the Brick Industry. Come visit the brick exhibit at the Hudson River Maritime Museum. Listen as The History Guy gives more details. 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!
Editor's Note: The following report of the Eastern New York Anti-Slavery Society was found by HRMM research George A. Thompson and transcribed by Sarah Wassberg Johnson. The Eastern New York Anti-Slavery society was based in Albany, NY and founded by Reverend Abel Brown in 1842. Although less well-known than the Western New York Anti-Slavery Society, which counted Frederick Douglass and Sojourner Truth among its members, the Eastern New York Anti-Slavery Society nevertheless did important work with the Underground Railroad. Resources for further reading on this subject are located at the bottom of this post. EASTERN N.Y. A. S. SOC. & FUGITIVE SLAVES. ANNUAL REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE. [1843] In a previous Report of the Committee engaged in aiding fugitive slaves, they endeavored to show the propriety and duty of progressing in this work of mercy and benevolence. Another year has passed, and in the light of its experience the Committee have found additional proofs of the importance of this object, and for still more active zeal in the prosecution of their labors. They have ever deemed it essential that a systemic plan of operations should be sustained for the permanent security and protection of those down trodden outcasts of humanity. Among the many reasons considered by them for engaging in this work of benevolent enterprise, the following presents themselves: 1st. The aiding away of fugitive slaves is producing a beneficial effect on the slaveholder. There are in this nation from 200,000 to 300,000 men who are laboring under an alienation or infatuation of mind which leads them to persist in robbing their fellow men of their dearest rights. They are truly led captive by the devil, at his will, for they not only engage in deeds at which humanity shudders, and which God abhors, but are so perfectly and madly insane that they glory in saying and believing that they understand and correctly appreciate the true principles of our moral, religious and political institutions, that they only in all this generation worship God in spirit and in truth. They steal, lie, blaspheme, rob, murder, commit whoredom -- yes, crimes of which it is even a shame [illegible line] have been stolen and now hold and rob the colored people in this nation. They hold their so called property as any other thief holds his stolen goods, and it is as much the duty of honest men to seize these human goods and restore them to their rightful owners whenever opportunity presents, as to aid in restoring any other stolen property. When a man thief loses the property he has stolen, it affects him in the same manner as thieves in general. A moment’s reflection will illustrate. Suppose a man steals $1000 in cash, and after a few months enjoyment of it, the rightful owner by some artful device gets possession of it - what would be the effect of the loss of the unlawful inheritance upon the mind of the thief? - Would he not be more apt to reflect upon the wickedness of the crime he had committed? Would he be as apt to steal again? And would not the effect upon the man who has stolen $1000 worth of human beings be similar? Certainly no one would for a moment suppose that it is less a criminal offence to steal men than money. A member of the committee lately received a letter from a friend who resides in the family one of those unfortunate men who has lost his slaves. A slave by the name Robert was missing. There were frequent conversations in the family about Robert. The mistress frequently expressed her fears that the servant was suffering in the swamps, and perhaps dying of starvation. The children cried because Robert was gone, while the father swore he would thrash the rascal if he ever caught him. Weeks, and even months elapsed, but no news from Robert. The master had given him up for lost, not only to his owner but also to himself, for it was not possible that he could take care of himself. At length during a pleasant evening, as the family were quietly enjoying themselves in the parlor, a letter was handed in addressed to the master in quite a neat and respectable hand writing. - He opened and after looking a moment, exclaimed in surprise, it is from Robert. He informed his master that he had safely arrived in Canada and found himself very happy - was quite pleasantly situated; thanked his master and the family for all their kindness; spoke of his mistress with great respect for her kindness; sent his kindest regards to all and especially his dearest love to the children, and closed by earnestly urging hist master to call and “take-tea” with him, should he ever pass that way. The effect of the unexpected letter upon the family was electrifying. The children were enthusiastic in their expressions of joy - Robert alive, Robert well, Robert free; I wish I could see him; I wish he would come back. The mother of the family wept. She had often expressed her fears that Robert was suffering in the forests or swamps, and the letter seemed to relieve her; she only said “poor fellow, I am glad he has got to Canada.” A son of about twenty years said “I should like to lick the scoundrel an hour.” The master was evidently much chagrined but sat in silence and heard the rejoicing of the children and saw the tears of his wife, finally he said, “I did not think the fellow knew so much.” “I did not mistrust he would run away, but I would have done just so too.” The conversations about the runaway were frequent, and although the master was evidently enraged and chagrined at the loss of Robert, yet the effect upon him was quite salvatory. He was afflicted with his situation. Mad alike with slavery and abolition, and in a right state of mind to accept of emancipation or any thing that would free him from the curse of slavery. He did not buy other servants to fill the place of his most faithful Robert, but contented himself to hire what was necessary to make up the deficiency of labor. One man in Baltimore has lost six slaves five of whom were aided by the Albany Committee, and such has been the beneficial effect on the afflicted man that he has since that time hired his servants. Indeed, the loss of servants has become so frequent that very few persons in towns and cities as far north as Washington buy slaves for their own use. $1000 worth of property on feet is not as valuable as formerly, and such investments are not deemed very safe, and the committee are happy to know that slave stocks are depreciating in value daily. The numerous Judicial trials which have been brought to notice by the efforts of the committee have been instrumental in teaching slaveholders that they cannot much longer make New York their hunting ground. Indeed they are sorely afflicted by these lawsuits, for they cost them a large amount of money, and after all have the honor and satisfaction of getting beat in every case. The Corresponding Secretary of the Committee has received numerous letters from southern men, which indicate that they are far from being uninfluenced by our efforts. Many of these letters are too vulgar and blasphemous for publication. Although evidently written by men of intelligence, they exhibit a corruption of heart that is indescribable. In June last a most obscene and wicked letter was received enclosing two handbills of which the following is one: - [end of page] Sadly, the second page was not included in this find. Although some of this text may seem distasteful today, it was part of an effort to convince Whites of the value of abolishing slavery. The passage about the contrite family of enslavers was especially designed to tug at the heartstrings and engage guilty consciences. In addition, the last selection indicated (accurately or not) that anti-slavery efforts were having some affect even among those who profited from enslaving others. The reference to New York as a "hunting ground" is referring to the Fugitive Slave Act, which allowed Southern slaveholders to send "slave catchers" north to recapture people who had escaped slavery. Sadly, many free people were captured and sold into slavery, as was the case with Solomon Northup. Reverend Abel Brown died tragically young, at the age of 34, in 1844, just one year after this report. His widow would go on to write his memoir (linked below). Further Reading:
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This song is a bundle of Victorian references which I'll let you look up for yourselves, but is also a uniquely windjammer song. I'd like to focus on those elements, more than the other content, as the song was from the late 19th century, when steam and sail had diverged, but both were still going strong. There's a number of references which all indicate this is a windjammer sailor's song: Setting Sail, of course is obvious, but others are not. Doldrum Grounds are unique to windjamming, as a motor vessel doesn't care if the wind stops. Slacking neither tacks nor sheets is an expression for fast cruising, or maintaining all possible speed, but steamships have none of these parts of square-sail rigging. Rocks and Shoals are dangerous to almost any vessel, but especially to sailing vessels off a lee shore, where the wind can drive a sailing ship on the rocks while a motor ship could employ its engines to move off from the hazard. This remnant of windjamming has survived in several recordings, and uses various years, all from the mid-to-late 19th century, after steam propulsion became common, so it is likely to have been something that differentiated between sailors with the two separate skillsets for the different types of vessels. Regardless, now it is simply a good song in the queue for those of us ashore. LYRICS: 'Twas in the year of '94 and I think of March the 20th day I thought I'd have a little cruise from the Well Street home to Tiger Bay As I rolled through old Wappin street, 'twas there I met a pretty maid She gave me a kiss and she lifted her skirts, her legs were all in fine array [Chorus] Whack fol the looray looray laido whack fol the looray looray lay Whack fol the looray looray lay hurrah for the pilots of Tiger Bay! When we set sail it was quite late, it was the hour of ten at night We never slacked a tack nor a sheet 'til we came to the house of Mother Wright And when I saw that cosy room, I there resolved to stay next day So I took that gal for me harbour dues and she piloted me down to Tiger Bay [Chorus] Then in the morning when I woke, I found myself in doldrum grounds But the madam wouldn't let me go until I had spent twenty pounds Says I to myself: this'll never do, I'll jump this bark without delay So I took a slant for the Well Street home from the rocks and shoals of Tiger Bay [Chorus] Now when I got back to the Well Street home I met my mate in the smoker there He shouted: Jack, where the hell have you been? You seem to be in ballast there I hung my head, not a word I'd say, I got me another ship that day And if I ever go to London again I'll take another cruise down to Tiger Bay [Chorus] To all you young fellers in this room I've only got one word to say Whenever you meet a pretty little maid just lead her gently by the way There's many an ups and downs in the world, and many a pretty girl down the highway But the prettiest ones that you'll ever see are the pilots down in Tiger Bay [Chorus] AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. 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!
Editor's note: The following text was originally published in "Stories. Cobb's Toys. Third Series, No. 7" published in 1835. Thanks to volunteer researcher George A. Thompson for finding, cataloging and transcribing this article. The facts, language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. A Ship is the largest kind of vessel which is used to transport or carry the produce or merchandise of one country or nation across the sea or ocean to another country. A Ship has three masts, which are long poles that stand upright like the body of a tree. The rigging consists of cloth-sails, yards, roped, braces, &c. The body of the Ship is called the hull or hulk. In one part of the hull are the boxes, barrels, &c., containing goods and, in the other part is a cabin or little room where the men on board the Ship eat and sleep. The sails of the Ship are spread out or extended by means of the ropes, yards, &c., and then it is blown along by the wind upon the water. Sometimes it goes eight or ten miles an hour, or more. When the wind is very violent, the Ship is sometimes driven ashore upon the rocks and dashed to pieces. Sailors who navigate Ships are often several years on a voyage, and many months without seeing land. They often undergo great hardships, sometimes being a number of days without food, and also suffer much from the wet and cold, being obliged frequently to work during storms. There can not be a more beautiful and majestick sight than a Ship at sea with all sails full spread. There are various kinds of vessels, of different names, depending on the number of masts and shape of the rigging. Brig has two masts, and, like a Ship, is square rigged. A Schooner has two masts, also, but is not square rigged. A Sloop has but one mast, and is not square rigged. Sloops and Schooners seldom go out to sea. They are, in general, employed in going from place to place, along the seacoast. Sometimes, however, they go to the West Indies and carry pork, flour, &c., and bring back molasses, sugar, coffee, &c. Steam-Boats are used carry passengers, produce, and merchandise, up and down large rivers, lakes, and bays. They are also frequently used to carry passengers and merchandise from one place to another along the seacoast. They are called Steam-Boats because they are moved or forced along the water by the power of steam. The steam engine which moves the wheels is a powerful machine. The men first put a great deal of water into a large boiler, which they heat very hot; and, when the water is thus heated it produces a great deal of steam, which goes into the engine through a pipe. The steam, which is very powerful, tries to escape or force itself out of the engine; and, in doing this, it sets the wheels in motion; and the wheels of the engine, being connected with the two large wheels each side of the Steam-Boat, which are placed in the water, cause them to be turned round in the water which makes the Steam-Boat pass along rapidly from eight to fifteen miles an hour. Steam-Boats are, in general, fitted up very neatly and have a number of rooms for passengers to eat and sleep in. Travelling by Steam-Boat is very pleasant as well as expeditious. There is some danger, however, as the boiler, which contains the hot water, sometimes bursts and scalds the passengers to death. But perhaps it is as safe as to travel in stages; for, they are often upset and the passengers badly hurt. The first Steam-Boat was invented by Robert Fulton in the city of New York. They are now used very extensively on the lakes, rivers, and bays in the United States as well as in Europe; and, we can scarcely imagine how to do without them now, as they will ascend rivers against the tide and current, and the wind also; when sloops, schooners, &c., would not be able to sail at all. Canal-Boats are used to carry produce, merchandise, and sometimes passengers on the Canal. these boats are always drawn by a horse or horses. Canal-Boats or the largest size are drawn by two or three horses, and the smaller ones by one horse. Canals are basins or courses of water, which are made through countries where there are not natural rivers, lakes, or bays, for sloops, schooners, or steam-boats, to pass on. In some places the Canals are cut through rocks; sometimes they are carried over rivers or creeks in aqueducts or over culverts. It is a delightful sight to see a Canal-Boat, loaded with passengers or goods, passing through farms, over rivers, and through wilderness countries. Travelling by Canal-Boat is not as rapid as by Stage-Coaches or Steam-Boats. There are a great many Canals in this country now which are of great importance to commerce, and to those who wish to emigrate or remove from one country to another. The longest Canal in the United States, and the one on which there are the most Canal-Boats used, is the Hudson and Erie Canal, from Albany on the Hudson River, to Buffalo at the foot of Lake Erie. Its length is three hundred and sixty-three miles. This Canal is carried across the Mohawk River twice; and also across the Genesee River at the city of Rochester. If all the produce and merchandise which are now carried on the Canal in boats, should be drawn in wagons by horses as formerly, there would scarcely be room on the Great Western Road for them to pass each other. Canal-Boats move very slowly, from three to five miles an hour. 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!
In the 1850s, the Clipper Ships gained fame as some of the fastest ships to ever float, and the Dreadnought was one of the fastest on the Atlantic. She once set the record for New York to Queenstown in 9 Days and 17 Hours, and averaged a far faster time than most on her packet run. She was 212 feet long, and 1,227 Gross Register Tons, and could carry about 2,000 tons of cargo and 200 passengers. Her fame was known far and wide, and she performed very well for the Red Cross Line, after being built in Newburyport, Massachusetts, and was of course famous enough to have a song written about her at the time. This is a more modern rendition, but still a good one. LYRICS: Oh, there is a flash packet Flash packet of fame She hails from New York And the Dreadnought's her name She's bound to the west Where the stormy winds blow All away to the westward In the Dreadnought we'll go Derry down, down, down derry down With the gale at her back What a sight does she make A skippin' so merry With the west in her wake Her sailors like lions On the jacks to and fro She's the Liverpool packet Oh, Lord let her go! Derry down, down, down derry down Now the Dreadnought's a-sailing The Atlantic so wide While the high roaring seas Move along her black sides With her sails tight as wires And the Black Flag to show All away to the Dreadnought To the westward we'll go Derry down, down, down derry down Here's a health to the Dreadnought And all her brave crew To bold captain (Willy!) And his officers too Talk about your flash packets Swallowtail, Black Ball The Dreadnought's the flyer That out sails them all! Derry down, down, down derry down AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. 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!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. The West Country Ketch Hobah was an English vessel built in 1879, and is typical of her class: Ketch rigged, relatively small at around 80 feet and 60 Net Register Tons, and built with a wide flat bottom, she was designed for use in the South of England. She served as late as 1945, moving coal, general cargo, manure, and stone. The ketch's wide, flat bottom allowed for loading and unloading from beaches where no developed port was available, a common practice with small vessels. The photo above shows this process in action, with the Ketch tied up to the stake on the left, the tide was allowed to recede, while the ship settles into the sand and stays stable while discharging cargo. When high tide returns, the lines can be cast and the ship sails away unharmed. 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. AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. 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!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. NOTE: This week's post is a guest post from the Royal Museums Greenwich in the UK about the Cutty Sark, one of the most famous of the Tea Clippers. To learn more about the Cutty Sark check out the Royal Museums Greenwich website. Cutty Sark is the sole surviving tea clipper ship in the world. It wasn’t the first or the biggest; it wasn’t the fastest or most successful; it wasn’t even its owner’s favourite. But it is the last one left. And it is because of its survival that it has become one of the most iconic ships in the world: a symbol of the romantic ‘age of sail’; of the peak of clipper ship design; of Britain’s identity as a nation of tea-drinkers; of the exploitation and wealth of the British Empire and vital importance of merchant shipping to Britain, both then and now. Cutty Sark was launched in 1869, in Dumbarton, Scotland. It was built exclusively for the China tea trade, in which a fashion had developed for consuming the first of the season’s fresh tea. Thus it paid to be fast and as one of the last tea clippers to be built, Cutty Sark had some claims to be the pinnacle of a design, already at its apex. It is an ‘extreme clipper’, having all the design characteristics of clipper ships but with extra abundance. Clippers, typically, have three main design traits: a long, narrow hull; a sharp bow at the front of the ship for cutting through the waves rather than riding atop and a huge sail area. By the 1860s, composite construction, combining wood and iron to make a ship strong but lighter and with greater cargo space, was the favoured method of construction. Cutty Sark was one of these composite ships. Clipper ships were pioneered by the Americans in the early nineteenth century. These small, fast and agile ships, able to zip along ‘at a clip’, put an emphasis upon speed rather than cargo space. The gold rushes in California and then Australia in the middle of nineteenth century meant that orders for vessels flooded the American market. Spurred by the need to obtain even a slight advantage in speed, American designers were bold and inventive, developing clippers which seemed to turn ship design on its head. Across the Atlantic, British shipping was at risk of stagnation. A series of reforms, including the end of the East India Company’s monopoly on trade in the east prepared the scene. The first British clipper ship, Stornaway, was built in Aberdeen in 1850. Tea first came to Britain in the middle of the seventeenth century. Initially hailed for its medicinal qualities, it was mainly enjoyed by the wealthy. But thanks, in part, to an extensive smuggling network, tea soon became a popular beverage for all. Little more than one hundred years after its introduction, tea was embedded in the very fabric of British life. As a tea clipper, Cutty Sark played its role in converting tea from exotic leaf to national staple. It would deliver over 4.5 million kgs of tea to Britain in just eight years. Yet it never lived up to its promise. In a somewhat poetic twist of fate, the Suez Canal was opened just five days before Cutty Sark was launched. These two feats of engineering, one which would seal the fate of the other were inextricably linked, providing a marker in time, almost a ‘before and after’ in the world of shipping. The canal provided a ‘short-cut’ out to China and back. Rather than having to sail all the way around the continent of Africa, ships could now cut through the Mediterranean and Red Sea reducing the voyage by over 3,000 miles. But the challenging navigation of the Mediterranean and relative windless conditions and expensive tolls on the canal itself meant that it was only viable for steam ships. Ships like Cutty Sark would have to stick to the long route. In 1870, the year of Cutty Sark’s maiden voyage, there were over fifty other sailing ships heading out to China and back. By 1878, there were just nine. Unable to compete, Cutty Sark was forced from the trade for which it had been built after just eight voyages, a tea clipper without any tea. After leaving the tea trade, Cutty Sark spent the next few years tramping: taking whatever cargo it could from port to port. It is not without irony that in this period the ship regularly transported coal for steamships’ coal stations. In fact, in total it transported more coal than tea in its career. While the network of coal and water stations required for the efficient passage of steamers developed around the world, the quickest and most reliable method of getting their fuel to them was by sail. When John ‘White Hat’ Willis, the ship’s owner, elected to place Cutty Sark in the Australian wool trade, it was as if Cutty Sark had found its calling. The trade, at the time, too far away for steamers to contend in, suited Cutty Sark. The route home took the ship around Cape Horn and the ‘roaring forties’, the fastest trade winds in the world, allowing the ship to make full use of its impressive spread of canvas to surge home. Under the confident leadership of Captain Richard Woodget, the ship’s longest serving and most successful master, Cutty Sark consistently broke records. Its best passage was just 73 days back to London, racking up speeds of up to 17.5 knots an hour and enjoying a new reputation as one of the fastest ships afloat. In 1895 an aging Willis, with no heirs to pass his fleet onto, sold Cutty Sark to a Portuguese firm. Renamed Ferreira, the ship became a general cargo carrier – carrying anything from coal to whale bone and fish guano - traversing the Atlantic between Portugal, the West Coast of Africa and the continent of America. In 1922, after departing London, Ferreira was damaged in a storm, had to call in at Falmouth for repairs and experienced astonishing good luck. There was probably not much more working life left in the ship, so when the local retired sea captain Wilfred Dowman, spotted Ferreira, the ship’s fortune was changed forever. In 1895, Dowman had been a 16 year old apprentice, who watched as Cutty Sark surged past his ship, leaving a lasting impression on the young man. Twenty-seven years later, Ferreira was a shadow of its former self yet Dowman’s memory had not dimmed. He knew it was a special vessel. Together with his wife, Catharine, the pair were committed philanthropists who paid well over the odds to bring the ship back to Britain, restore it and rename it Cutty Sark once more. Two years later, it reopened as a cadet training ship and visitor attraction. Following Dowman’s premature death, the ship was given to the Incorporated Thames Nautical College to serve alongside HMS Worcester as a cadet training ship in Greenhithe on the Thames. With the outbreak of the Second World War, the cadets were evacuated and Cutty Sark suffered from a terrible lack of maintenance. By the end of the war, sail-training was no longer deemed necessary and Cutty Sark’s future looked bleak. But befitting of the ship’s story, it was thanks to a passionate individual and a stroke of good luck that it is here today. HMS Implacable had fought at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805 but by the late 1940s, like Cutty Sark, it was in very poor condition. Recognising the ship’s significance, a place in Greenwich was offered to it but its restoration costs were soon deemed to be too expensive in an age of austerity. Instead the ship was scuttled. Understandably, this caused an outcry which Frank Carr, then director of the National Maritime Museum, was able to utilise to save Cutty Sark. He persuaded the London County Council to give the Greenwich site to Cutty Sark; he engaged the support of HRH The Duke of Edinburgh and together they formed a society which raised public funds to restore the ship and create a new dry dock for it. They were also keen that Cutty Sark adopt yet another identity: that of memorial to the Merchant Navy, the days of sail and the 44,000 from the merchant service lost in both world wars. In 1954 the ship was floated into its new dock and final resting place. Three years later, after an extensive restoration, the ship was opened to the public by HM The Queen. In total, more than 650 men from 30 different nations served on Cutty Sark during its years as a British ship. Most would do so only once. On average, just 28 men would serve per voyage but it could be as few as 19. The oldest to serve was 54 and the youngest 14. These men had eleven miles of rigging and 32,000 square metres of sail to contend with in some of the most challenging conditions imaginable. The ship has visited nearly every major port in the world and transported millions of kgs of goods around the globe. Built to last just 30 years, it now sits in Maritime Greenwich, more than 150 years old and an inspiration to a new generation of sailing cargo ships. To find out more, please visit: Cutty Sark AuthorLouise Macfarlane is the Cutty Sark Curator at Royal Museums Greenwich, UK. 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!
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