 A portion of the first page of the 1843 Annual Report of the Eastern New York Anti-Slavery Society. 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.  "Hobah Falmouth. C. Lamey, Master" Unknown Artist, C. 1879. Royal Museums Greenwich, via Wikimedia Commons. 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.  Unloading coal from a collier on East Beach in the town of Cromer. Norfolk, England. 8 March 1912. Kolforn Collection, via Wikimedia Commons. 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.  Map of Coastal Trading Routes from: Dunn, Oliver. “A Sea of Troubles? Journey Times and Coastal Shipping Routes in Seventeenth-Century England and Wales.” The Journal of Transport History 41, no. 2 (August 2020): 184–207. 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 in her current state at Royal Museums Greenwich. PetraDraha, 2017. 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.  S1717: A painting of "Cutty Sark" by Frederick Tudgay in 1872, commissioned by owner John Willis. Courtesy of Royal Museums Greenwich. 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.  E8980: The Suez Canal in the early 1880s. Courtesy of Royal Museums Greenwich. 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.  A5473: Crew and guests on Cutty Sark in Sydney in 1887. Captain Richard Woodget is in the back row, third from right wearing a Tam O’Shanter hat in honour of the ship’s name. Courtesy of Royal Museums Greenwich. 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!
Editor's note: "Three Years in North America" by James Stuart, Esq. was originally published as a two volume travelogue in Edinburgh, Scotland in 1833 describing a journey taken in the late 1820s. In this section the British travelers describe meals on the steamboat "North America" as they travel up the Hudson River. Many thanks to volunteer researcher George M. Thompson for finding and transcribing this historic travelogue.  Steamboat "North America" b/w photograph of painting by Bard Brothers. There were two steamboats named "North America". The one described in the travelogue is the first and ran for 10 years. This may be an image of the second "North America" built in 1839. Donald C. Ringwald Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum (p. 40) The North America is splendidly fitted up and furnished; the cabinet work very handsome; the whole establishment of kitchen servants, waiters, and cooks, all people of colour, on a great scale. *** (p. 41) We had breakfast and dinner in the steam-boat. The stewardess observing, that we were foreigners, gave notice to my wife some time previous to the (p. 42) breakfast-bell at eight, and dinner-bell at two, so that we might have it in our power to go to the cabin, and secure good places at table before the great stream of passengers left the deck. Both meals were good, and very liberal in point of quantity. The breakfast consisted of the same article that had been daily set before us at the city hotel, with a large supply of omelettes in addition. The equipage and whole style of the thing good. The people seemed universally to eat more animal food than the British are accustomed to, even at such a breakfast as this, and to eat quickly. The dinner consisted of two courses, 1. of fish, including very large lobsters, roast-meat, especially roast-beef, beef-steaks, and fowls of various kinds, roasted and boiled, potatoes and vegetables of various kinds; 2. which is here called the dessert, of pies, puddings, and cheese. Pitchers of water and small bottles of brandy were on all parts of the table; very little brandy was used at that part of the table where we sat. A glass tumbler was put down for each person; but no wine-glasses, and no wine drank. Wine and spirits of all sorts, and malt liquors, and lemonade, and ice for all purposes, may be had at the bar, kept in one of the cabins. There is a separate charge for every thing procured there; but no separate charge for the brandy put down on the dinner-table, which may be used at pleasure. The waiters will, if desired, bring any liquor previously ordered, and paid for to them, to the dining-table. p. 43 Dinner was finished, and most people again on deck in less than twenty minutes. They seemed to me to eat more at breakfast than at dinner. I soon afterwards looked into the dining-room, and found that there was not a single straggler remaining at his bottle. Many people, however, were going into and out of the room, where the bar is railed off, and where the bar-keeper was giving out liquor. The men of colour who waited at table were clean-looking, clever, and active, -- evidently picked men in point of appearance. We had observed a very handsome woman of colour, as well dressed, and as like a female of education, as any of those on board, on deck. My wife, who had some conversation with her, asked her, when she found that she had not dined with us, why she had not been in the cabin? She replied very modestly, that the people of this country did not eat with the people of colour. The manners and appearance of this lady were very interesting, and would have distinguished her anywhere. James Stuart. Three Years in North America. Vol. 1. Edinburgh, 1833. 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: Many thanks to volunteer researcher George A. Thompson for finding and transcribing these articles describing early commuting. These articles were originally published in the Rockland County Journal. FACILITIES FOR TRAVEL. The facilities for travel along the Hudson next season will, by the addition of the trains of the West Shore road, be very large. We have only to refer to some of them to show that travel must indeed be very large in order that all the lines can be made to pay. In the lower Hudson there will be three lines of steamers between Peekskill, Nyack and New York, a steamer will run as usual between Haverstraw and Newburgh, a steamer will run two or three times a day between West Point and Newburgh, a steamer will run between Newburgh and Poughkeepsie, two steamers will run between Newburgh and Albany, three steamers will run between Poughkeepsie and New York, three steamers will run between Rondout and New York, one steamer will run between Saugerties and New York, two between Catskill and New York, two between Catskill and Albany, two between Coxsackie and New York, four between Troy, Albany and New York, also in addition the two day boats between New York and Albany. These make twenty-seven steamboats that will run night and day, saying nothing about handsome barges. Add to these twenty six trains on the N. Y. C. & H. R. R. R., and twenty trains on the West Shore R. R., making forty-six trains in all. The twenty seven steamboats have a carrying capacity of 10,000, and the trains, taking six cars to a train, a carrying capacity of 10,560, making a grand total of carrying capacity, by both cars and boats of 26,650 people. — Poughkeepsie Eagle. Rockland County Journal (Nyack, N. Y.), February 24, 1883  Drawing of railroad station at Kingston, N.Y. Hudson River Maritime Museum Collection. THE TRAVEL INCREASING. COMMUTERS ARE NOW COMING BACK TO NYACK. The Saturday Half Holiday Train Will Be Put on the Latter Part of May. Traveling is steadily increasing to and from Nyack, and in a few weeks at the most the trains and boats will be carrying their full quota of passengers. "The travel on the Northern Railroad," said Mr. William Essex, station agent at Nyack, to a reporter, "is now slightly increased over that of last year at this time, and I think the prospects are good for an increased number of passengers during the season. A number of commuters are already back from the city in their Nyack homes, and most of them travel up and down daily. A little later more cars will have to be put on the trains to accommodate the passengers. "I have not yet heard of any change in the time-table," continued Mr. Essex, "and I do not anticipate any. The present time table appears to give general satisfaction. The Saturday half-holiday train will be put on the latter part of May." Travel in other directions is also on the increase. The Chrvstenah carries a goodly number of passengers to and from the city daily, and the number is steadily growing larger. There are more daily passengers to and from the West Shore station at West Nyack than there have been during the past season, and the Nyack and Tarrytown ferry is also doing an increased business. Soon the tide of Summer travel will set in in every direction, and Nyack will probably have its full share of those who come and go. Rockland County Journal (Nyack, N. Y.), May 4, 1895 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: Many thanks to volunteer researcher George A. Thompson for finding and transcribing article describing a cruise on a Hudson River House-boat. This article was originally published as "A Cruise on a Hudson River House-boat" written by Jesse Albert Locke in the Godey's Magazine on August 5, 1893.  A CRUISE ON A HUDSON RIVER HOUSE-BOAT. By Jesse Albert Locke ["Tom Perkins" invites "J. S. Wellington" to join him and two other friends on a cruise on a house-boat he has designed and built; Wellington declines, supposing it won't be much fun.] Two years ago a young physician in New York was trying to puzzle out the problem of his summer holiday, Where should he spend the two or three weeks he could take for recreation? On a certain hot afternoon in July, as he sat in his office thinking of the matter and longing for a breath of country air, an invitation to a decision arrived. It was in the form of the following note, characteristically laconic, from a friend who lived a few miles up the Hudson: Riverview-on-Hudson, July 20, 1893 Dear Wellington: I start August 5th on a house-boat cruise. Party of four. Will you join us? Say yes and say it soon. Come up here the night before. Yours cordially, Tom. This brought an immediate reply. "Riverview-on-Hudson, "July 22d. "My Dear Wellington: I am not at all willing to count me out. You must join us on our trip. You know how I hate letter-writing, so a proof of my desire for your company will be the long and full explanation which follows. In fact, I thought I had told you all about it before, but you are quite in the dark, I see. "I am inviting you to no experiment. I built my house-boat and made a trial-cruise in her last summer. It was a howling success. Jack Dunham, who went with me, is wild to go again. Let me tell you how I worked out my idea. "Living in a Hudson River town, I have been on the water a great deal ever since I was able to walk. I have had numerous sail-boats of different sizes, but for some time I had been wishing I had some sort of a craft roomy enough to cruise in with a small party of friends. A large yacht I could not afford, and so I conceived the idea of a house-boat, which I finally worked out to my satisfaction. "I found that to be a complete success my boat must have five points of advantage. First, it must be adapted to these waters. The English house-boats might do on a quiet stream like the Thames, but they would not be suitable for traversing the Hudson. The second thing to be secured was sufficient room. I wanted enough space to allow four or five persons to live aboard comfortably. Next, the boat (whatever it was) must be safe. I could not ask friends to sacrifice pleasure and peace of mind on a really dangerous craft. "It must also be, in some degree at least, self-propelling. This would enable me both to take advantage of the opportunities for being towed, and on the other hand to be independent of towing, when I wished. I wanted to be able to leave the channel and run into shallow water alongshore whenever desired. "Lastly, my boat (if it came into being at all) must be inexpensive. Some very costly house-boats have been built for Florida waters. One is said to have cost $40,000. It is rumored that a syndicate has been formed to build and rent house-boats for summer use, each boat to cost from $5,000 to $15,000. But these are not to be self-propelling. They must be towed to some one place and anchored there. Besides, I had to reckon in hundreds -- not thousands -- of dollars.  "As to my success in realizing my ideal, I am happy to say that I have secured every one of these five points. My boat, Satan, only cost me $600, and it is roomy, safe, self-propelling, and easily navigated. Let me describe its construction in detail. "I first build a large flat hull, 27 feet 9 inches long, and 9 feet wide. Its draught of water is only 27 inches. An 18-inch heel runs the full length. On this hull I built the cabin, leaving deck-room fore and aft. There are six feet of head-room in the cabin. A heavy guard-rail or buffer, a foot wide, runs all around the boat to protect it in the necessary impact against canal-boat or dock. There are two spars, the mainmast having a lateen-sail, and the jigger the ordinary fore and aft rig. The steering is done by a tiller in the usual way. Under the forward deck slides an ice-box which will hold three hundred pounds of ice. Two large lockers also slide in like drawers. Under the stern deck is a bunker for charcoal on one side, and on the other a storage locker for tools, rope, putty, etc. The roof of the cabin forms an upper deck, and an awning is stretched over it while at anchor. There are two awnings also for the fore and after decks. "The Satan really could no be upset. The only danger, practically, is that of being becalmed in the channel at night, and so being in the way of the great steamers and the tows, which are constantly going up and down. But this can be avoided by a little forethought. It requires only one man beside the sailing-master to manage the boat. "You see how much I have secured. I have the cabin space of an eighty-foot yacht at the cost of only $600 instead of $5,000. I can go where yachts cannot go, in the swallow waters and lagoons alongshore. On the other hand, I am not bound to stay in any one place when circumstances make it desirable to more. If, for example, a cloud of mosquitoes settles upon us., we heed not suffer mild martyrdom because we cannot get towed off, as would be the fate of persons on one of the permanently anchored house-boats. We simply put up sail and go elsewhere. All the pleasures of out-door life -- the air, scenery, sport, etc. -- are ours, with enough novelty and change to keep up the interest. "If the wind fails it is very easy to get towed. There are three regular towing lines (besides some smaller ones) which start from New York every day on their way up the Hudson, and are due at certain places at certain definite hours. There are also steam canal-boats that will take one on. "There is quite a choice in routes. My boat is adapted to any large river like the Hudson, or to any lake or canal. In a canal, of course, the spars must be taken out. I intend this time to go up the Hudson to Troy, through the Champlain Canal to Lake Champlain and back again. "Think over all this, take a good look at the photographs of the Satan which I send, and then let me know whether we may expect you on the 5th. I feel sure you will come. "Yours cordially, "Tom Perkins," The doctor telegraphed his acceptance and went to buy some outing clothes. He left town, promising his medical chum (who was to look after his practice for him) some account of his new experience if he felt like writing. These were Dr. Wellington's letters. "Somewhere up the Hudson. "August 8, 1893. "Dear Chummy: You see how prompt I am. This is only our third day out. We are lying at anchor this morning will all the awnings spread. I don't know exactly where we are -- geographically -- but the little cove with its pebbly shore, the restful green of the wooded point, the shimmering river beyond, and above all, the delicious sense of its not making any difference in the world where we may be -- all this is enough to make it Elysium. City life and bricks and mortar belong to a stage of inferno from which we have escaped. "We have a jolly, tight little home in the Satan. Why Perkins, captain and owner, dubbed his craft thus is not apparent. There are no satanic qualities about the boat. Perhaps he had the Oriental idea of casting an anchor to windward, propitiating the genius of the underworld by an outward show of respect as a security against disaster. "Our cabin is one large room, from which a small corner has been cut off for a kitchen. There is a door at each end, one opening upon the fore and the other upon the after deck. Everything is very 'ship-shape.' The captain has mastered thoroughly the necessary nautical science of stowing things snugly. On the partition which cuts off the kitchen is a buffet where every cup and plate has its own place in a rack. Our dining-table is a folding affair, like a lady's cutting table, and is fastened flat against the wall between meals. There are two windows on each side, all having dark-green shades and dotted Swiss curtains. Between each set of windows is an upright locker, and above the latter a swinging brass yacht-lamp. The floor is covered with linoleum, and Japanese rush mats. Silk yachting flags, photographs, and Japanese fans adorn the walls. There are four camp-chairs -- with backs, fortunately. "The kitchen is a multum in parvo wonderfully worked out. Our stove is a miniature range, such as is made for boats, and has all the conveniences. It works to perfection. The fuel is charcoal, which costs a dollar a barrel. The captain says that it takes from one and a half to two barrels a week. The bunker holds four barrels. It is a great improvement upon an oil-stove, which is usually very disagreeable. The odor of the oil generally pervades the boat, and everything is covered with soot. "The kitchen utensils hang on hooks against the wall, and underneath them is canvas stuffed with cotton, so that when the boat is in motion one's nerves are not irritated by rattling and banging noises. Rows of canisters for flour, coffee, tea, etc., and a good assortment of canned goods find places on the corner shelves. "I am cook. We debated at first whether the office should be hold in rotation or not, and concluded that things would run more smoothly if each man had his own duties and stuck to them during the trip. I have had some experience in camp-cooking, and I took a few additional lessons from my landlady before I left town. I also invested in one of the simple cook-books intended for 'young housekeepers,' I have done very well.  After an ineffectual attempt to make an impression upon one, the captain moved that they be reserved for ammunition in case we should be attacked by river pirates. This was quickly seconded and carried. That, however, has been my only failure. Otherwise I am a culinary success. "It is very easy to get provisions. We started with three hundred pounds of ice, and we can renew our supply at any time from the ice-houses along the river, or from the floating ice-barges which are constantly floating up and down. Fresh meat can be obtained at the villages and small town where we stop frequently for a little excursion ashore.  "As to the rest, we need never want anything very long before three toots from a steam-whistle announce the approach of a 'bum-boat.' A bum-boat (should you not know the term) is really a country general store afloat -- a small steam-tug which cruises about, supplying the wants of the canal-boat men. The whistle has hardly died away before the bum-boat is fastened alongside, and we are invited aboard. All around the walls of the cabin are doors which, when flung open, reveal a complete stock of groceries neatly arranged on shelves. There are also miscellaneous articles and plenty of fresh vegetables which the bum-boat traders have obtained by barter from the farmers along the river. There is always a large stock of 'wet goods,' which the canal-men buy in great quantities. This, however, need not alarm the temperance enthusiasts, as the supply consists almost exclusively of ginger-ale and sarsaparilla. "Now for our daily routine. Breakfast is a movable feast. The rising hour means when the cook gets up, which is generally somewhere in the neighborhood of eight o'clock. We sleep on woven-wire cots, two feet two inches wide. Solid immovable berths are less comfortable and take up too much cabin-room. While I light the fire and begin to cook breakfast, 'Rocks" (as we have nicknamed Jack Dunham, who is always imagining that we are running on a reef) puts the cabin in order. The four cots, folded up and laid one upon another make a comfortable divan during the day. Four cretonne-covered pillows give it a cozy look. "After breakfast, the captain and Henry (the two assigned to outside work) wash the decks, hoist sail, get up the anchor, and we are off. Meantime I as chef, take my ease, while 'Rocks' washes the dishes and sweeps the cabin-floor. "If there is a good wind we then sit out on deck and take a morning smoke, while we bother the captain with ignorant nautical questions as to why he should point his course in such a direction, or where he expects to take us. If there is no wind, we lie at anchor, spread the awnings, read, talk, and amuse ourselves in various ways. "Lunch comes at one or two -- a cold meal if we happen to be sailing at the time. Then, generally, a siesta. At four o'clock all are overboard for a swim. Supper is always eaten by day-light, lest the lighting of lamps should draw in mosquitoes. We never sail at night, but always anchor near the shore before sundown. Supper sometimes has an elaborate dinner menu, and sometimes it is a very simple meal. You have no idea what delectable things I have been able to concoct on a chafing dish. 'Rocks' sighs daily for Welsh rabbits, but the captain is insistent about some things and will allow no cheese on board. He contends that it has such a penetrating quality that a single piece will make its presence felt for the rest of the voyage. "At night we sit on the upper deck, smoke, sing, listen to Henry's guitar, watch the night-boats on the river, and commiserate the poor devils like you who are sweltering in town. At 9:30 p. m. the cots go up, and all hands turn in for the night. "The cruise is a grand success. Vive le Satan! "Yours fraternally, "J. S. Wellington." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "In the Champlain Canal, "August 21, 1893. "Dear Chummy: My career has not come to a watery end in spite of my long silence. 'Time was made for slaves.' A holiday cruise without a lofty disregard for time would be as flat as an unsalted dish. "The last two weeks have been full of novel experiences. The life of the anal-boat people is full of picturesque interest. I had never come in contact with it before. On our way to Albany, the captain of the canal-boat by which we were being towed invited us to dinner. We found him, as we found most of the others of his class, somewhat bluff and rugged, but as manly, honest, and good-hearted a fellow as one could wish to meet. I was surprised to find that some of the canal-boat captains are women, who own their boats and manage them well. "At Albany a permit must be obtained at the Capitol for taking a pleasure-craft through the canal. There is no difficulty in obtaining this, however, and no charge is made. We are now on our way back, having been through the Champlain Canal, and having spent a few days in Lake Champlain. "The canal begins at West Troy, and the distance to Whitehall, where it enters the lake, is sixty-eight miles. There are twenty-six locks to pass through. The scenery was really very beautiful at times. In Lake Champlain we had some good fishing, taking a number of small bass, pickerel, and perch. We were only sorry that we had so little time to spend there. if our trip could have been a longer one, we could have passed through the Chambly Canal (at the upper end of Lake Champlain) into the Richelieu River and then into the St. Lawrence and on to the Thousand Islands. Next year we hope to go through the Erie Canal to Buffalo, which will give us the scenery of the beautiful Mohawk Valley, and then on as far, perhaps, as Montreal. "We had several very amusing experiences while we were in the canal. One evening we had laid up against the heel-path (the side opposite the tow-path) and the cabin-door had been closed for the night but not locked. 'Rocks' and Henry were asleep, while the captain and I were nearly ready for bed. "Suddenly there was a thud on the deck, the door was flung open, and in burst a thin, wiry, bustling little Yankee. With no more introduction than 'Hello, boys!' and without waiting to say another word, be began a tour of the whole boat, opening every locker, examining critically everything he came across, spelling out the names of the brands of canned goods, and commenting rapidly to himself on what he saw. His examination finished, he looked at the captain, remarked upon the thinness of the latter's legs, and with a 'Well, good-night, boys!' he disappeared in the darkness, and we never saw him again. We had been too utterly astonished during his brief, whirlwind-like visit to do or say anything whatever. We simply stared, motionless, until he had gone. "We are now approaching Troy. The canal runs along an upper level around the side of a hill, giving us a far-extended view over the Mohawk Valley and River, some five hundred feet below, and the Erie Canal stretching off to the west. I shall be sorry when our trip ends in a few days hence. It has been the most enjoyable outing I ever had. I shall probably tire you with my enthusiasm after I return. "Till then, believe me, "Yours, as ever, "J. S. W." The best part of this story of a summer outing is that none of it (except the names and dates) is fictitious. The Satan was built exactly as described, and is now ready for her third summer cruise. What Captain Perkins has accomplished is within the reach also of any other lover of life on the water, at the same modest expenditure and with the same happy results.  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: Many thanks to volunteer researcher George A. Thompson for finding and transcribing this pair of fantastic stories of ballooning in 19th century New York. The first article was originally published as "A Night in the Air" in the New York Herald on July 26, 1874. The New York Tribune followed with "A Successful Balloon Voyage" on July 27, 1874. The articles follow the exploits of balloonist or "aeronaut" Washington Harrison Donaldson.  "The Future of the Balloon" half page cartoon depicting all the possible ways ballooning might be used in everyday life, from the "Daily Graphic," July 26, 1873. A NIGHT IN THE AIR. Twelve Hours Between Heaven and Earth. Balloon Experience Extraordinary CAMP LIFE IN CLOUD-LAND A Lady Passenger Among the Stars. As the representative of the Herald clambered over the edge of the basket attached to Donaldson’s balloon that rose from the Hippodrome on last Friday evening he was conscious of that peculiar tingling sensation of the nerves which comes but thrice in this life - when you are up for your first class examination, when are are being married, and when you make a balloon ascension. It was not fear, but that fluttering feeling about the heart which is rather delightful than otherwise. To add to the excitement of the scene there was a more than usually good audience present watching the equestrian performances upon the track. The spectators seemed the ordinary joyous holiday makers, but when they turned their gaze to where the five journalists who accompanied Donaldson sat, in the wicker basket beneath the bellying, struggling, gassy monster, anchored to earth with bags of sand, there came that saddened expression in their eyes which is always noticed to be a proper part of the make-up of a deputy sheriff at an execution. The ladies were particularly sympathetic in their glances, and seemed to have made up their minds, individually and collectively, that five innocent journalists and one daring aeronaut were going straight to a cloudy grave. This added to the thrilling nature of the occasion, and gave a man an opportunity to imagine himself a martyr to the cause of science, and to entertain a much higher opinion of himself than if he were doomed to tread the dull earth all his life.  Photograph portrait of Washington Harrison Donaldson, courtesy Findagrave.com. Time, which does not wait for any man or any balloon accession, stole around to four o’clock. By that hour the balloon had been gorged with its gaseous lunch, and acted as if it were pretty full, plunging, rearing and cavorting in so enthusiastic a manner that it was evident to the practiced eye of Donaldson that it could not be held in leash much longer. There was the rush of a race around the track, and the blare of the band gave a brassy éclat to our departure. Donaldson sprang into the ropes, and in an instant all eyes were centered on the swaying wicker car. The moment had come. There was just time to see the air grow white with the premonitory kerchiefs, and clear and distinct rang out Donaldson's voice, "Let her go!" In an instant we flashed seven hundred feet, straight as an arrow's course, into the air, and hung over the opening in the canvas roof of the Hippodrome, through which we had ascended. But only of a moment. There was just time to respond to the waving adieux by friends and spectators, and to listen to the cheers of the populace who densely packed the neighboring streets -- cheers which came up to us with a faint and far-away suggestion, when we began to drift toward the Hudson in a southwesterly direction. Then we fully realized the fact that our aerial ship was launched for its uncertain cruise. No one wanted to make notes then, no one cared a cent for the barometer or the direction of the current. The whole being was wrapped up in an indescribable feeling of delight. Beneath lay New York like a city of toy blocks, filled with a tremulous noise that came up clearly and yet softly to us. We could trace every street its entire length, could see the people moving to and fro like black specks, could hear alike the hoarse murmur of the populace, the twinkle of the street car bells, and the bark of a dog. Central Park lay spread out like a piece of delicate velvet embroidery, slashed within the silver of its lake and serpentine stream. Far away was the ocean, a sheet of glass, on which moved a multitude of white winged craft. with here and there a black plumed steamer. We could see the many-steepled city of Brooklyn and the glistening Sound beyond, smoky Jersey City and the picturesque villages of the Hackensack valley, all of fair Westchester, and far up the Hudson to where the mountains raised a purple barrier against the sight. Under such circumstances it is not surprising that one's nature expanded, and thoughts woven of the sunlight in which the balloon floated stole into the brain. Then the mystic chain was broken; then they looked around, asked each other how he felt, and producing note book and pencil fell steadily to work measuring enchantment and surveying the airy dream. At nineteen minutes past four o'clock we were on a line with the colosseum and rising rapidly. Forty-second street and Seventh avenue was reached at twenty minutes past four, the barometer showing an elevation of 1,800 feet. At twenty-four minutes past four the balloon was 2,200 feet above the level of the sea. Twenty-seven minutes past four o'clock the balloon's shadow fell on the waters of the Hudson, our elevation being 2,450 feet. From this point handfuls of colored circulars, taken along as part of our ballast, were thrown out, which slowly fluttered downward like A FLOCK OF GORGEOUSLY TINTED BUTTERFLIES. At half-past four o'clock we were 2,500 feet high. Then we began to descend until an elevation of 1,800 feet was taken at thirty-three minutes past four. By this time we had reached the Jersey shore and began to drift over Weehawken. Busy as the party were, there was plenty of time to note the charming effect produced by the green fields, dotted with villages, that lay unrolled beneath us like a gigantic panorama. Through the broad expanse of the country, rivers and streams of small size crawled like serpents, their silver scales GLISTENING IN THE SUN. Union Hill was passed at twenty minutes to five o'clock; elevation 2,250 feet. A moment later the Midland Railroad was crossed, and the balloon was greeted by a cheering whistle from the engine of a train of cars that scurried along beneath it, the passengers, leaning out of the windows of the carriages, enthusiastically waving their handkerchiefs. When the watch marked fifty-three minutes past four o'clock Donaldson came down from the ring of the balloon, where he had been perched with his sun umbrella, and notified the five journalists who accompanied him to draw lots to determine in what order they should be dropped, as it was necessary, to insure the success of his trip, that the airship should be lightened, gradually. Five pieces of paper were numbered one, two, three, four and five respectively, thrown into a high white hat, and the drawing began, the understanding being that the men should get out in the order determined by their ballots. The result was as follows: Herald, 1; World, 2; Sun, 3; Graphic, 4; Tribune, 5. We were then at an elevation of 1,600 feet. AT THREE MINUTES OF FIVE WE PASSED OVER THE HACKENSACK RIVER, with Hackensack lying to the west. At eleven minutes past five the balloons had fallen so low that the barometer only measured 250 feet, and the drag rope, 350 feet in length, could be heard clashing around among the tree tops. Half of a bag of sand was emptied over the edge of the basket, and we shot up 300 feet, passing over a clearing in the forest where some school children were having a picnic. They saluted the voyagers right royally, and entreated them enthusiastically to descend. But Donaldson was forced to decline the invitation. At twenty minutes past five Paterson hove into view, the elevation being 625 feet. We fell again, being only 150 feet high at thirty-five minutes past five, with our drag rope raising havoc among the forest foliage. Our course was then north by west. At forty minutes past five, and when at an elevation of 250 feet, one of the party who had brought a life preserver along, calculating upon an ocean trip, offered to sell it at half price. No takers. SKIMMING OVER A HILLTOP, so near the surface that the trees nearly touched the basket, we were enabled to ask a rustic, at forty-three minutes past five, how far we were from New York city, and were told twenty-six miles. More ballast was thrown out here, and the balloon ascended rapidly. At fifty-five minutes past six our course was north-northwest. The first landing made was at half-past six o'clock, in Muncy township, Bergen county, on Garrett Harper's farm. The ladies of the house, who at first took the party for surveyors of the new State line, and had retreated within their domicile with a rapidity of movement not excessively complementary to the surveyors, were prevailed upon to furnish us a drink of milk, and even got over their timidity so far as to clamber over a couple of fences and visit the field where the BALLOON WAS ANCHORED. They told us we were twenty-five miles from New York city. At eight minutes of seven o'clock we rose again and set steadily toward a mountain range, behind which the sun was declining with a true Italian pomp. At twenty-five minutes past seven, when a mile from the mountains, there came a dead calm -- that evening hush so apt to surround the mystery of the day's death. At thirty-five minutes past seven a landing was made in Ramapo township, upon the farm of  Charlotte Thompson as Jane Eyre, 1874. Billy Rose Theatre Collection, New York Public Library. MISS CHARLOTTE THOMPSON, the charming actress, whose "Fanchon" is as familiar as a household word. Calling upon the lady, we were received most cordially, and when Donaldson invited her to take a short ride in the balloon she clapped her hands in girlish delight, excused herself for a moment, and soon reappeared, shawled and bonneted for the trip. We carried her about two miles, her carriage following the balloon, and left her at last waving her dainty cambric at us as we sped away in the gathering gloom. It was then eighteen minutes past eight o'clock. From this out until half-past nine o'clock we sailed over a scene of savage beauty, lit up by the magic illumination of the moon, whose silver fringes had woven a veil of luminous haze, with which all nature was draped. Deep and darksome ravines, frowning bluffs, 1,500 feet high; shadowy valleys, in which twinkled the farm-house light, and from whose depth came up the lowing of cattle, were all passed, and suddenly the Hudson, surpassingly lovely as it toiled in THE GLEAMING ARMS OF THE MOON burst upon our sight, a dream of spectral light, backed by a haunting nightmare of gloomy hills. We were low enough to speak the steamers, which acknowledged our presence with the shrillest of whistles. Our rope trailed in the water and left a wake of diamond sparks. West Point was passed at ten minutes to ten. Crossing the river above the town Cold Spring was reached, sixty miles from New York. At twenty minutes past ten Cornwall was left behind, and then we took the middle of the stream, arriving at Newburgh at twenty-five minutes to eleven. Following the Hudson in all its graceful bending we came at twenty minutes to eleven o’clock to Fishkill, where some favoring breezes harnessed themselves to our chariot and galloped inland with us. The balloon was still TRAILING ITS DRAG ROPE over the surface of the earth, and the effect produced by our passage over a town must have been startling to the slumbering citizens. The long-drawn hiss of the rope as it struck a roof, followed by the rat-a-plan chorus it played upon the shingles, and the fantastic farewell salutes it gave to crazy chimney tops were all the eerie stuff of which weird legends are made, and we felt positively assured that many a ghost story was left on our trail. Particularly attentive was the party to Wappinger’s Falls, over whose rooftrees the rope SHRIEKED AND DANCED WITH SATANIC GLEE. This place was passed at twenty minutes past eleven o’clock, and then began the serious business of the night, the watching for the dawn, as the moon had left us. To sleep was a matter of impossibility. Leaving two on watch, with no more serious business than to report such and such a star on the port bow, the balance of the air travellers curled up in the bottom of the basket, with sand bags for pillows, and silently composed themselves to a contemplation of their situation. There was absolutely no sound save the croaking of the frogs and the hiss of the drag rope. It was a strange scene, THAT BIVOUAC BENEATH THE STARS, that camp in mid-air. So we drifted, drifted on until the east began to show the carmine upon its pallid cheek, until rosy flashes shot up the sky and the miracle of the sunrise was enacted once again. This was at half-past four o’clock, and from a sleepy ploughboy, whom we froze in an attitude of open-mouthed astonishment, we learned that we were in Columbia county. We landed on the farm of Mr. J. W. Coon, in Germantown, four miles from the city of Hudson, and about ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY MILES FROM NEW YORK at twenty-four minutes past five o’clock, but not without some difficulty, having to resort at last to the valve rope and the anchor. Here the aeronauts were treated with courtesy, and after a hearty breakfast the party, minus the Herald and World representatives, who had drawn numbers one and two in the “get-out lottery,” and the Graphic man continued their jaunt, rising again at fifteen minutes past seven o’clock. After nearly describing a circle around the city of Hudson, the BALLOON STRUCK A SOUTHWESTERLY CURRENT at a high altitude and floated rapidly toward the Catskill Mountains. At half-past eleven it was within half a mile of the Mountain House, and the rope being within reaching distance it was taken hold of by a man and a conversation held with the aeronauts. They then threw out more ballast and arose to an immense elevation, still keeping a southwesterly course, which they were holding when last seen. Professor Donaldson has informed the Herald representative that this was the most brilliant voyage he had ever made, and if he continues it as successfully as it was conducted up to the time the balloon landed in Columbia county yesterday morning the trip will cover the daring aeronaut with that glory which his skill and coolness deserve.  Stereocard of "Donaldson's Ascension" in balloon "Barnum," undated, in Michigan. Designed for use in a stereopticon. Detroit Public Library. A SUCCESSFUL BALLOON VOYAGE. Twenty-Six Hours in the Air – Events of a Trip from New-York to Saratoga. Saratoga, N. Y., July 26. -- It is safe to say that the balloon-trip in W. H. Donaldson's new air-ship The Barnum, which terminated nine miles from this city last evening, was the finest that ever began in New-York, and one of the most prosperous and enjoyable ever made in the country. A little after 4 p. m. on Friday the five journalists who were to accompany Mr. Donaldson stepped into the willow basket, and with the latter's signal, "Let go all," were shot rapidly upward. Almost in an instant they were 700 feet high. Union and Madison-squares, and the streets around the Hippodrome, were thronged with people, balconies and housetops, nearly as far as could be distinguished, were crowded, and sending up shouts of applause or farewell. Blocks of houses looked no larger than single buildings ordinarily appear, and the street cars, which could be dimly seen, appeared about the size of bricks. At 4:30 the balloon was hovering over the Hudson at an altitude of 2,500 feet. Long Island looked like a large straggling village, a little thickest along the East River, and the Sound was filled with fairy-looking craft. Staten Island seemed a part of New-Jersey. Northward was the Hudson. The Palisades were plainly visible, and so were the towns along the river. Where the Hackensack and Passaic Rivers empty into Newark Bay a pair of dentist's nippers was plainly see marked out by the curving courses of the streams, and a few miles to the east was a gigantic foot, formed by cuttings on a forest, with every curve as true as if it had been made by one of the "anatomical" foot makes. Mr. Donaldson, about 4:30, suggested that it would be necessary to leave one of the party now and then, in order to make the trip as long as possible, the journalists should draw lots to decide who should get out first. Numbers were written on separate slips of paper, tossed into a hat, and shaken, and the following is the order in which they were drawn: Herald, 1; World, 2; Sun, 3; Graphic, 4; Tribune, 5. At 5:11 the balloon had sunk to an altitude of 250 feet. Prof. Donaldson explained that the sinking was caused by the setting of the sun. The drag-rope, 350 feet long, the letting out and pulling in of which was like throwing out and putting in ballast, trailed along the ground. It cracked branches of trees like pipe stems, tore boards from fences, left a narrow path through fields of grain which it crossed, and seemed to be resistless. When it drags over a house, a fence, or along the ground, a sound like the roar of an enormous buzz-saw is produced. At 6.30 the rope caught and the balloon was made to descend, and the party landed near a farm house and got some milk. The balloon ascended again at 6:52, crossed the Piermont branch of the Erie Railroad, in the township of Ramapo, and landed on a farm in the township near the Summer residence of Charlotte Thompson, the actress, who was visited. She accepted readily an invitation to ascend, and in half an hour the party were off again with Miss Thompson in company. After going about two of three miles she was landed, and returned home in her carriage which had followed. At 10 p. m. the air-ship was over the Hudson, opposite West Point, and only 40 feet above the ground. During the night only eight pounds of ballast were thrown out. At 5:24 on Saturday the grappling hook was thrown out and in a few seconds the party were landed on the farm of William Cooms, in Greenport. The Graphic, Herald and World representatives then got out and left for Hudson. The anchor was then loosened, and in three minutes the balloon was 2,200 feet in the air. At 9 o'clock it was 8,300 feet, nearly a mile and three quarters. The sun was very hot, and the thermometer registering 70. The balloon drifted slowly southward towards New-York. The City of Hudson was almost directly below, and a little off to the east, across the river, was Catskill, and beyond the Catskill Mountains. Four stratas [sic] of clouds were distinctly to be seen. The first or lower strata was of a dirty gray color; the second, a pure, gleaming, silvery white; the third, a beautiful deep azure, darker than the clear blue vault overhead; and the fourth or upper, a dark brown, almost the color of amber. Albany and Greenbush came in sight, with Troy beyond. Ballast was thrown out and the balloon rose rapidly to 9,000 feet -- so fast that the party had to shout to make one another hear. Then they descended. For three hours and a half the balloon was nearly a mile and three-quarters high. All this time it was in sight of Hudson City. At 11 it arose over the first span of the Catskills. After several hours of travel the balloon sailed over a deep valley which Donaldson said would be good for a landing, and the anchor was dropped. It grappled readily, gas was let out, and the party descended among some small trees at 6:07 p. m. The place of landing was E. R. Young's farm, in Greenfield, Saratoga County, nine miles north of the place. The journey of 400 miles had been accomplished in 26 hours.  Front page of the Daily Graphic (New York), 7 October, 1873, showing the ascent of Washington Donaldson's unsuccessful attempt sponsored by the newspaper to cross the Atlantic. Wikimedia Commons. W. H. Donaldson had preceded his balloon flight up the Hudson with a botched attempt to balloon across the Atlantic. Later in 1874, he helped a Cincinnati couple marry in mid-air, and in 1875 attempted to balloon from Chicago across Lake Michigan when a storm came up, with fatal results. To learn more about Donaldson and his exploits, check out the additional resources below!
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