Most of the cities along the Hudson River, and even some of the villages, at one time had steamboats named in their honor. The old colonial city of Kingston was no exception and for a six-year period in the late 1880's, Kingston was the home port of a sleek and graceful steamboat named “City of Kingston.”

During the post-Civil War years, the Cornell Steamboat Company and the Romer and Tremper Steamboat Company operated freight and passenger steamboats out of Rondout Creek for New York, each company operating a steamer on alternate nights so as to provide daily service.  On March 27, 1882, the Cornell steamboat “Thomas Cornell” was wrecked by running up on Danskammer Paint, north of Newburgh, in a fog.  The “City of Kingston” was built to replace her and was launched at Wilmington, Delaware on March 11, 1884. 

When she first appeared, the “City of Kingston” was a sharp departure from other steamboats of the day.  Almost all steamboats then were wooden hulled side wheelers with walking beam engines, but the “City of Kingston" had an iron hull and a screw propeller powered by a 750 h.p. compound engine.  She was also equipped with 165 electric lights, which in 1884 put her well ahead of almost anything afloat or ashore.  She is generally credited with being the first steamboat of a type that later became standard as overnight freight and passenger carriers out of almost every major city along the Atlantic coast. 

Her First Trip
The “City of Kingston” arrived in New York from her builder’s yard the latter part of May 1884 and on May 31 set out on her first trip to Kingston.  With a group of invited guests, she left New York at about 1:30 p.m. and was escorted through New York harbor by the Cornell tugboats “Hercules,” ‘‘S.L. Crosy” and “Edwin Terry,” all gaily decorated for the occasion with flags and with guests aboard.  She arrived at Rondout shortly after 6 p.m. where she was greeted by a large crowd, including many local dignitaries. 

The “City of Kingston" entered regular service on June 2, 1884.  Her schedule called for her to leave Rondout at 6 p.m. on Monday, Wednesday and Friday with landings at Esopus, Cornwall and Cranston's the later landing being named for the large hotel on the bluff south of the village of Highland Falls.  On Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday she would leave her pier at the foot of Harrison Street, New York at 4 p.m. for the up-river run. 

During the summer, on Saturdays she would leave New York at 1 p.m. and make connections at Rondout at 6 p.m. with a special train of the Ulster and Delaware Railroad for Catskill mountain resorts.  Sunday nights, the train would make connections with the “City of Kingston’’ at Rondout from where she would depart at 11 p.m. for New York.  Arriving in the metropolis at 6 a.m., the steamer would then run right back up river to resume her regular Monday night schedule.  Normally, the steamer would run from the latter part of March until about the middle of December. 

On June 23, 1886 the “City of Kingston” had her first serious accident.  She left her last up-river landing at Cranston’s at about 9:40 p.m. and being somewhat ahead of schedule was proceeding down through the Hudson Highlands at reduced speed.  She had a good passenger list and a large load of freight, the principal item of which was Hudson River Valley strawberries.  It was a hazy night of early summer, the kind when the smoke from passing trains used to lay over the water off Conns Hook, there being no breeze to carry it away. 

Loaded With Cement
All of a sudden off Manitou, directly ahead of the “City of Kingston,” lay schooner the “Mary Atwater,” drifting with the tide.  The “Mary Atwater” had left the James Cement Company, opposite Wilbur, that morning loaded with 550 barrels of cement.  The schooner was displaying no lights, it frequently being the habit of schooner men in those days on a still night to keep all lights out so as not to attract mosquitoes and bugs. 
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They would have a lantern ready in the hold and when they heard the plop, plop, plop — plop, plop, plop of the side wheels of an approaching steamboat, they would then run the lantern up the mast.  On a quiet night, they would normally hear the pounding of steamer's side wheels up to two miles away.  The “City Kingston," however, having a propeller made no noise at all through the water.  Since she made no noise, the “City of Kingston” had become known to sloop and schooner men as ”The Sneak.”

In the haze, the “City of Kingston” was upon the darkened ‘‘Mary Atwater” too late to avoid a collision.  Her knife-like bow cut the schooner in two and the “Mary Atwater” immediately sank.  Although the schooner’s helmsman was saved, her owner and the cook asleep below decks were drowned.  The “City of Kingston" was undamaged. 

Many steamboatmen used to think nothing could surpass a sidewheeler for speed.  So on one of the “City of Kingston's” summer Saturday up-trips — July 2, 1887 — the crew of the smart sidewheeler ‘‘Kaaterskill” of the Catskill Line thought they would give a lesson to the new propeller steamer from Kingston.  The “City of Kingston” left her New York pier a few minutes after 1 p.m. and between there and Rondout was scheduled to make landings at Newburgh and Poughkeepsie.  The “Kaaterskill” got underway a few minutes later from her dock three piers below and was to go straight through to Catskill.

Accepted Challenge
On the “City of Kingston," they could tell by the smoke pouring from the ‘'Kaaterskill's’’ twin smoke stacks and by counting the strokes of walking beam, that her throttle was wide open and she was planning a race.  The “City of Kingston” accepted the challenge and, at the time, it was estimated she had a lead of nine minutes.

All the way up through Tappan Zee and Haverstraw Bay, if one was standing on the shore at Ossining, Rockland Lake or on the Haverstraw steamboat dock they could heard the heavy beating of the “Kaaterskill’s” paddle wheels pounding into the clear waters of the Hudson for more speed.  But try as she might, she could not shorten the distance.

The “City of Kingston" was cutting through the water like an eel and causing hardly any commotion in the water at her bow or stern, while the “Kaaterskill” was causing water fly in all directions from her large paddle wheels. 

The “City of Kingston” lost approximately nine minutes landing at Newburgh and Poughkeepsie which canceled her lead.  Leaving Poughkeepsie, the two steamers were almost abreast of each other, the "City of Kingston" slightly ahead.  Between there and Rondout Light, the "City of Kingston’’ steadily increased her lead and made the 10 mile run from Hyde Park to the mouth of Rondout Creek in exactly half an hour.  As she entered Rondout Creek, her rival, the "Kaaterskill’’ was below Port Ewen and the loser of the race by four minutes.  Many old boatmen told me the “City of Kingston’s” success was due in large measure to the skill of First Pilot William H. Mabie getting her in to her landings and on her way again in minimum time. 

Another Collision
The following year, on June 5, 1888, the “City of Kingston’’ was in a collision in New York harbor with the steam yacht ‘‘Meteor." The steamboat had just left her pier and the yacht was getting underway from her anchorage off 24th Street.  The yacht's bow sprit hit the “City of Kingston” on the starboard side and ripped out considerable joiner work before it broke off.  In the investigation that followed, the ‘‘City of Kingston” was held blameless and the captain of the yacht had his license suspended for 10 days. 
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In 1889, after only six years of service on the Hudson River, the "City of Kingston'’ was sold and went to the Pacific coast.  To get there she had to go all the way around Cape Horn.  

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1878-12-12 Sun (NY) - GREAT DAMAGE BY FLOODS.
Railroad Bridges Swept Away, Passenger Trains Wrecked, Mill Property Destroyed, and Villages Inundated—The Highest Flood Known for Many Years in the Delaware.

Kingston, N. Y., Dec. 11.--The rainstorms of Monday and Tuesday [Dec. 9 and 10, 1878] have terribly affected Ulster County. The heavy mountain snow melted, and the result has been a freshet that has worked frightful damage. Bridges have been swept away on the Wallkill Valley and on the Ulster and Delaware Railroads. The roadbed of the latter is damaged to an extent that cannot be remedied for several days. At 3 o'clock this morning the canal barges on the Rondout broke adrift and went crushing one against the other downstream. Several of them, loaded with coal, were sunk. Nearly all of them had crew aboard, and some of them had entire families. Whether loss of life resulted is yet uncertain. The loss of property along the Rondout Creek will approximate $75,000, $10,000 of which is the value of cement barrelled [sic] and ready for delivery to New York markets. At Saugerties, on the Esopus Creek, the loss is not less than $50,000. Six boats of the steamer MARINA were carried away, and the MARINA left high on the flats. The bulkhead of the dam on the creek was carried away, and much coal, lumber, and wood were lost. From the back country come reports of loss of life. Several wrecked residences have passed down the Esopus. The white lead factory at Glen Erie [sic, Glenerie?] suffered to the extent of $10,000. The loss at Wilbur exceeds $3,000. The mouth of the Rondout was crowded this morning by a confused mass of boats and vessels of every kind, the majority of which were total wrecks.

A rumor was rife this morning that there had been great loss of life at Eddyville, a small village on Rondout Creek, in this county. THE SUN's representative visited that place to investigate. The route was difficult. The wagon wheels were hub deep in mud and water for half the distance. Within three feet of the roadway the current seethed and rushed with a terrible velocity. The creek was fairly crowded with household goods and wrecked buildings from up the stream. Within half a mile of the village the road was washed away. The bridge across the turbulent waters was standing, but the approach to it was cut off by a gulch fifty feet deep. There was but one way to reach Eddyville, and that was by crossing the rushing creek through the débris. It was with difficulty that a boatman was procured willing to risk such  a venture. The streets of Eddyville were still flooded. Not less than twenty houses have been swept away. The guard lock burst last night, and the village has since been at the mercy of the flood. The foundations of every building in the place have been weakened and there is scarcely an outbuilding remaining. The canal stables were flooded, and toward of 100 horses and mules were drowned. One large tenement house was washed from its foundations and carried some distance to the main road, where it is wrecked. The entire place is flooded below the hill. The stables, outhouses, &c. on the “fly" were carried down the creek with the current. The débris is strewn all the way from the lighthouse to Eddyville. The house of Hiram Davis was floated to the upper end of the Island pier, and there lodged, when the furniture drifted away. The barn belonging to Mr. Black was floated to the south dike, with a horse in it. The horse was saved. Stables with pigs, cows, and geese in them went down the creek and were lost. The stores are flooded and the goods damaged. The lumber for Lambert's new ice house was carried away. The steamers MARTIN and EAGLE, of the Newburgh and Albany line, could not enter the creek. After the guard lock broke[,] a boat went over the dam, loaded with upward of 1,000 barrels of cement. The boat parted in the middle, and her cargo went to the bottom. The crew were saved, though one young man is severely bruised. The report of lives lost was unfounded. One boat, however, went down the stream in which was the family of a canal boatman. They are missing. It is possible that they escaped drowning.

Rondout, Dec. 11.—The schooners KATE and MARY and the sloops JAMES GRANT, BEN AIKIN and CHARLES LYNCH, McCausland’s sectional docks. the barges C. R. WORDENDYKE, ScCHUYLER HONESDALE, MARVIN KING, and a large number of canal boats, laden and light, are either piled on the north and south dykes or sunk. The steamers W. B. CRANE, PITTSTON, and A. B. VALENTINE are damaged. The JAMES W. BALDWIN and WILLIAM COOK are uninjured, but cannot leave, owing to the freshet. The extent of the damage is not yet known and cannot be estimated. All the wharves are submerged and everything not secured has floated off.
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Newburgh, Dec. 11.—Some small buildings have been swept away. The tide last night was the highest ever known, the river covering nearly every wharf in this city. The buildings in the lower streets were filled with water, and several serious washouts occurred on the short cut branches of the Erie Railroad. No trains have passed over it since noon yesterday, the trains to and from New York going by way of Newburgh branch. At Cornwall, yesterday, many houses near the river were flooded, and the people rowed over the wharves in boats. One or two small barns were carried away at Highland Falls. Sixty cords of wood floated off the wharf at Fort Montgomery. At Fishkill Landing the Duchess Hat Works were partially inundated. Brundage & Place's storehouse was flooded by the high tide, 300 barrels of lime slaked, and the building narrowly escaped destruction by fire. Loss, $500.
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ALBANY, Dec, 11.—Many cellars and basements on the river front are full of water, and much damage has been done. Among other sufferers are Mr. McCabe, who loses $1,000 worth of lime; Robert Geer, who loses $800 worth of tobacco; Mr. Rork, who had a large amount of lumber swept away; and Messrs. Durant & Elmore, who lose a car load of flour.

1878-12-12 Democrat and Chronicle (Rochester, NY) TORRENTS' TERRORS
Rondout, Dee. 11.—The freshet is the most damaging one in Rondout and Esopus creeks ever known. The schooners KATE, MARY and CANAL, with the sloops JAMES GRANT, BEN AKIN and CHARLES LYNCH, McCausland's sectional docks, the barges C. R. WORDENDIKES, SCHUYLER, HONESDALE, MARVIN, KING OF THE NORTH, and a large number of canal boats laden and light are either piled on the north or south side or sunk. The steamers W. B CRANE, PITTSTON, and A. B. VALENTINE are damaged. Some lives are supposed to be lost on the sunken boats. Tugs cannot assist the vessels on the dikes by reason of the strong current. Six boats and the steamer MARINA were carried away. The MARINA is high on the flats. The bulkhead of the dam on the creek was carried away. Much coal, lumber and wood have been lost. There are fears that there is loss of life on the boats carried out of Saugerties creek. The entire damage in Kingston, Wilbur, Eddyville, Rondout is roughly is estimated at half a million.

​At Eddyville, the water damaged the guard lock on the Delaware and Hudson canal. The water ran over and through it and has flooded what is known as the fly on which there were buildings, five of which are destroyed and many others damaged. One large tenement was washed from the foundations and carried a long distance to the main road, where it is wrecked. The entire place is flooded below the hill. The stables, outhouses, etc., on the fly were carried down the creek with the current. The debris was strewn all the way from the lighthouse to Eddyville. The house of Hiram Davis was floated to the upper end of the island dock and lodged, when the furniture drifted away. The barn of Mr. Black floated to the South Dike with a horse therein. The horse was saved. The stables with pigs, cows and geese therein went down the creek and were lost.  Stores were flooded and goods damaged. The lumber for Lambert’s new ice house was carried away. The steamers MARTIN and EAGLE of the Newburgh and Albany line could not enter the creek. The canal at Eddyville was much damaged.

Bob Williams, a Negro deckhand on the Hudson River Day Line steamer "Robert Fulton", put himself on the roll of heroes on Wednesday, September 13, when he was cheered by eighteen hundred passengers on that boat who witnessed his thrilling rescue of two students from Maryknoll Seminary, Ossining, who were clinging to a capsized canoe in the Hudson off from Ossining.

The students, Christian Fuss and Harold Dunn, had been canoeing, and when they started to change seats in the boat, the canoe shot from under them and they were precipitated into the water. They were in the water an hour and a half, when the "Robert Fulton" passed at full speed. the big steamer was a half mile beyond the struggling men before Captain Magee could stop and reverse engines.

In the meantime, Williams, with two other deckhands, had lowered the stern lifeboat and in the teeth of a strong tide Williams swiftly rowed back to the men. When the two students were pulled into the lifeboat, the eighteen hundred passengers made the highlands on both sides of the river echo with their cheers.

Dunn and Fuss were attended by a physician for ninety minutes before they were put ashore at Yonkers. Dunn paid a tribute to his rescuer by declaring that "I never thought a boat could be launched and rowed such a distance in such a short time. That man Williams is a wonderful oarsman."

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Editor's Note: This account is from the November 1, 1859 issue of the  "Buffalo (NY) Weekly Express". Thank you to Contributing Scholar Carl Mayer for finding, cataloging and transcribing  the article. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written.​

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​On May 23, 1701, my ninth-great-grandfather Captain William Kidd was gruesomely hung at the gallows at Execution Dock in Wapping, East London. The New York sea captain, who knew the Hudson (North) River and New York’s other tidal estuaries like the back of his hand, had been tried two weeks earlier at the Old Bailey on five counts of piracy and one count of premeditated murder. The crimes were allegedly committed during his 1696-1699 Indian Ocean voyage to fight the French and hunt down pirates. Although the piracy charges against the prominent New York sea commander were weak and the death of his fractious chief gunner, William Moore, was accidental when Kidd struck him with an empty wooden bucket while quelling a mutiny, it made no difference in the outcome of the trial.
The courtroom drama proved to be nothing but a sham proceeding to make an example of Kidd and protect England’s trade with the Great Mughal of India, Emperor Aurangzeb Alamgir I, and the East India Company’s profitable monopoly in the region. He was swiftly convicted on all counts based on the perjured testimony of two of his mutinous seamen, both of whom served as the Crown’s star witnesses and received full pardons for their betrayal of their commander. Today, Captain Kidd is known as perhaps the most famous “pirate” of all time, but his notorious legend is built on a bed of lies and he was railroaded by a corrupt English Crown. Thus, instead of indulging in the popular mythology of a villainous cutthroat and treasure-chest burying scoundrel who never existed, we should be celebrating the heroism of this most famous New Yorker with deep Hudson River Valley roots, a man who was called the “trusty and well-beloved Captain Kidd” by the King of England himself.

At the time of his high-profile public execution in 1701, the English-born Captain Kidd was not only a New York war hero in King William’s War against France (1689-1697), successful merchant ship captain, and a licensed private naval commander, or privateer, but a propertied gentleman, widely liked family man, and well-known community leader. He stood as one of the most prosperous citizens of not only he and his wife Sarah’s affluent East Ward neighborhood but all of Manhattan, which at the time had a population of 5,000 souls. His lawfully purchased New York real-estate properties included what are today some of the most expensive real estate holdings in the entire world, worth hundreds of millions of dollars: 90-92 and 119-121 Pearl Street; 52-56 Water Street; 25, 27, and 29 Pine Street; and his Saw Kill farm in Niew Haarlem at today’s 73rd Street and the East River.

For his privateering voyage to the Indian Ocean, Kidd was recruited in 1695 by a group of wealthy London financial backers, who hoped to make a bundle of money for King William III and themselves. Among them was Lord Bellomont, a powerful Whig House of Commons member and soon-to-be royal governor of New York, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire. The plan was for Kidd to not only fight the French but to hunt down the Euro-American pirates of Madagascar, legally seize their ill-gotten riches, and keep them for not only himself and his crew but for the king and other lordly sponsors from the powerful Whig party, who would take a hefty 60% cut of the proceeds. Kidd was to capture these predators of the seas—the “Red Sea Men” as they were known at the time—and seize their freshly plundered riches after they had raided the royal treasure fleets of the Great Mughal and other East Indian shipping between the Malabar Coast of India and Mocha and Jeddah in the Red Sea. Based on the colonial New Yorker’s sterling reputation, the investment group not only issued Kidd two special government licenses but built a 34-gun warship, the Adventure Galley, to his personal specifications.

Unfortunately for Kidd, his nearly three-year-long voyage turned out to be an epic disaster and turned him overnight into a notorious criminal and media sensation. During the hellish voyage that involved biblical storms, a tropical disease outbreak that took the lives of 35 of his crewmen, and constant attacks on his ship by virtually everyone, Kidd lawfully seized two Moorish (Muslim East Indian) ships, the Rouparelle and Quedagh Merchant, that presented authentic French passports and carried gold, silver, silks, opium, and other riches of the East. However, while these wartime seizures were 100% legal and he never once himself committed piracy in the Indian Ocean, he soon thereafter looked the other way during the capture of a Portuguese merchant galliot that presented official papers of a nation friendly to England (at least marginally). His seamen sailing separately from his 34-gun Adventure Galley in the captured Rouparelle seized from the Portuguese vessel two small chests of opium, four small bales of silk, 60 to 70 bags of rice, and some butter, wax, and iron.

It was a measly haul, and if Kidd hadn’t later become such an infamous figure, few would have cared that he had turned a blind eye to his unruly sailors from a separate ship plundering a few foodstuffs from a Catholic merchant vessel crewed by Moors. However, it was technically piracy even though Kidd wasn’t directly involved in the capture. He only allowed the seizure to pacify his unruly and mutinous crew, who had by this time divided into “pirate” and “non-pirate” factions aboard his three separate privateering gunships; and in reprisal for the damage inflicted upon the Adventure Galley and serious injuries sustained by a dozen of his crewmen from two Portuguese men-of-war that had attacked him without provocation months earlier.

Despite the numerous challenges he faced during his grueling voyage and a full-scale mutiny because he refused to go all-in on piracy, Kidd miraculously made it back to the American colonies from Madagascar with around £40,000 ($14,000,000 today) of treasure in his hold and the French passports that proved he had taken the Rouparelle and Quedagh Merchant legally in accordance with his commission. However, when he and his small band of loyalists reached Antigua in the Caribbean on April 2, 1699, they received heartbreaking news. The Crown, at the urging of the East India Company, had sent an alarm to the colonies in late November 1698 declaring them pirates and ordering an all-out manhunt to capture and bring them to justice.

Kidd decided to try to present his case for his innocence and obtain a pardon from his lead sponsor in the voyage, Lord Bellomont, who had by this time taken office as the royal governor of New York, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire. After burying a portion of his legally obtained treasure on Gardiner’s Island in Long Island Sound and distributing a number of goods to trusted community leaders as a precautionary measure, Kidd sailed into Boston on July 3, 1699, to meet with Bellomont, who had promised him a full pardon. However, the treacherous governor had merely lured him into the Puritan stronghold: upon Kidd’s arrival, Bellomont treated him with suspicion and several days later arrested him and his seamen.

After being stripped of all his lawfully seized plunder and enduring six months of incarceration in Boston, Kidd was shipped to England to stand trial, was found guilty, and hung in public shame before a drunken, jeering mob of Londoners. Days later, his corpse was coated with tar and hoisted in a gibbeted iron cage downriver at Tilbury Point near the mouth of the Thames, where it would remain for the next twenty years to serve as the English State’s grisly warning to other would-be pirates of the fate that awaited them if they dared disrupt England’s valuable trade relations with India by pursuing the short but merry life of a marauding freebooter.

                                                                   ΨΨΨ

Today, my ancestor Captain William Kidd stands as one of the three most famous “pirates” of all time, along with Sir Henry Morgan plastered on rum bottles and Edward Thache, better known as Blackbeard. But the truth is he was no pirate at all and was most certainly not “the sinister personification of piratical wickedness” or “most fiendish pirate that ever ravaged the seven seas,” as he has been called by some melodramatic researchers over the centuries. Like so many tall tales of Captain Kidd — especially stories of barbaric cruelty, piratical villainy, and treasure chests overflowing with gold and silver buried up and down the Hudson River and Atlantic seaboard — the Kidd-as-evil-arch-pirate myth has its roots in the anti-piracy propaganda campaign of the English Crown and the East India Company.

Because England failed to arrest and capture the most dastardly and successful pirate of the day, the Englishman Henry Every, the authorities made the colonial American Kidd out to be a Public Enemy #1, even though William III and his powerful Whig leaders in England had commissioned the privateer commander in the first place. Kidd’s biggest crime was disrupting England’s enormously lucrative East Indian trade. Because he followed in the wake of Henry Every during his 1696-1699 Indian Ocean voyage to hunt down pirates, the English State and its largest corporate monopoly launched a massive public relations smear campaign, spinning countless Treasure Island-like yarns of a brutal and mean-spirited Kidd, because they were unable to capture the real pirate Every and needed a scapegoat.

Over the centuries, Captain Kidd has come to define the “pirate” brand even though he was never actually a pirate. In his own lifetime he was a global sensation, and his fame has endured for more than 320 years and shows no sign of letting up. The wildly inflated estimates of his buried treasure have been a huge part of his allure over the centuries and they continue to fuel treasure hunters all over the globe, but they do not explain his longevity as an American icon and his exalted position as a favorite of Washington Irving, Edgar Allan Poe, James Fenimore Cooper, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Robert Louis Stevenson. His unique and captivating life story, his moral ambiguity, and his unfair trial in London have also played a huge role in this most famous New Yorker’s enduring popularity.

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What continues to make Captain Kidd important today is not merely his remarkable rags-to-riches-back-to-rags story but how many people were profoundly affected by his actions and how entrenched his myth has become in popular culture. In Kidd’s own day, he was a luminary of the media and popular culture, the hot topic of “the courtrooms and coffee shops of New York, Boston, London, and India.” He rose to fame, and later infamy, while rubbing elbows with an unbelievably vast network of shipmates, friends, family members, colonial officials, and esteemed peers of the realm, ranging from ordinary seamen, to wealthy merchants and royal governors, to the most powerful English lords of the late seventeenth century.

But what many people don’t know is that Captain Kidd made his mark in America along the Hudson River and that he has deep roots in the Hudson River Valley as a result of American folklore. On two separate occasions in mid-March of 1691, the duly commissioned New York privateer sailed his 16-cannon gunship Antigua from New York Harbor westward around the southern tip of Manhattan, anchored a quarter mile up the Hudson River, and threatened to unleash a blistering fire upon Fort William with his 12-pounders. The fort was occupied by Jacob Leisler, the leader of Leisler’s Rebellion, and his provincial militia, who had seized power from the rightful English government and taken over the city. The fifty-year-old merchant, militia captain, and ultraorthodox Calvinist Protestant of German extraction had capitalized on the unsettled state of affairs in New York in response to the 1688-1689 Glorious Revolution, the ongoing political struggle in Europe between Protestants and Catholics over the English throne that had sent several American colonies into disarray.

On March 17, Captain Kidd forced Leisler’s militiamen to abandon the blockhouse by training his heavy guns on the fort in a raging storm from his upriver position on the Hudson. The next day, he personally ferried the incoming English governor, Richard Sloughter, from Sandy Hook into New York City to assume office and replace the “usurper” Leisler; and on March 19, he again threatened Leisler from the Hudson with his big carriage guns, forcing the tyrannical leader and his army in the fort’s garrison to ground arms and march out. Thanks to Kidd, the leader of the two-year rebellion and his top lieutenants were promptly arrested and tossed into the fort’s prison.

Captain Kidd also played a pivotal role in the building of sacred Trinity Church overlooking the Hudson River. To assist with the construction of the Anglican house of worship in 1696, Kidd lent his runner and tackle from his privateering ship Adventure Galley as a pulley system to help the workers hoist the stones. In return for his community service, Kidd was given Pew Number 4 in the original church, located right up front near the rector and which bore the nameplate inscription “Captain Kidd—Commanded ‘Adventure Galley.’” Unfortunately, the gentlemanly New York privateer would never get the opportunity to pray at the magnificent church he helped build in the New World, but his wife Sarah and daughters Elizabeth and little Sarah would. As one of New York City’s greatest links to its historic past, the latest incarnation of legendary Trinity Church stands today in the exact same spot where Captain Kidd lent his runner and tackle over 330 years ago. Fittingly, Captain Kidd’s wife Sarah is buried today in the churchyard of Trinity Church looking out on the mighty Hudson.

But Captain Kidd’s greatest Hudson River connection comes from his buried treasure mythology. The legend of the colorful outlaw and swaggering pirate, with tens of millions of dollars’ worth of buried treasure still to be found in the northeastern U.S. and throughout the world, began soon after his grisly hanging at Wapping. However, it was the buried-treasure myths in Hudson River Valley lore that by the early nineteenth century secured his place in the pantheon of American folk heroes as our maritime Kit Carson and Jesse James. It is in the Hudson River Valley of authors Washington Irving and James Fenimore Cooper, both of whom were obsessed with Kidd, where his cultural legacy began and where it continues to resonate in unusual ways.

In the 1820s, American newspapers published stories claiming that Captain Kidd had constructed a subterranean hideout in Kiddenhooghten, New York, or “Kidd Heights” along the banks of the Hudson near Dutch Albany, where he stashed away fifty boxes of gold for a rainy day. By mid-century, the myths of his vast hidden caches of gold and jewels had spurred treasure-hunting expeditions from Maryland to Nova Scotia. Fortune hunters claimed to have discovered these long-buried troves of treasure in virtually every state along the Eastern Seaboard, with gold and silver literally washing up on the shores of the Hudson. Others reported to have found sealed bottles containing letters and treasure maps scratched out by Kidd himself. At this time, several companies began scouring the lower Hudson River Valley for Captain Kidd’s lost treasure and his undiscovered fortune became linked with the supernatural.

For the past two hundred years, treasure hunters have claimed an occult connection to the privateer. “Scholars have well established that the prevalent use of folk magic and divining practices in New York and the New England states for the search of buried treasure was motivated by Captain Kidd’s legend.” When one reads the countless tales of Captain Kidd’s unrecovered treasure from the nineteenth-century to the present day—featuring treasure chests guarded by headless men, guardian dogs with red eyes, monster horses, enormous crows, and magical rings that deflect bullets—one cannot help but wonder if all this insanity is my ancestor’s revenge for the miscarriage of justice that brought him to his inglorious demise at Wapping in 1701.

To this day, Captain Kidd stands as one of the most well-known, popular, and controversial figures in world history, with countless books, short stories, articles, ballads, and songs written about him, as well as rock bands, pubs, restaurants, streets, and hotels named after him. There are a large number of websites on the man and the myth, including more than a few with helpful tips on where plucky treasure hunters can find his long-lost fortune. In the U.S. alone, legend still places buried chests of Captain Kidd’s treasure in not only New York’s Hudson River Valley but in Connecticut, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, and New Jersey.

However, Captain Kidd’s contribution to history is not limited to his romantic myth of the flamboyant pirate, or his treasure rumored to be scattered throughout the Hudson River Valley and all over the world. More important is his role in planting the seeds of rebellion against the English Crown that would grow into a full-fledged revolution by 1776. Kidd was not merely a leading New Yorker who helped build Trinity Church, the latest incarnation of which still stands proudly today on Wall Street and Broadway, nor was he just a courageous privateer commander in King William’s War against France and important member of America’s first unofficial Coast Guard. His story—as much as any other between the settling of Jamestown and the American Revolution—symbolized defiance against the English Crown and its Navigation Acts.

The spectacular irony is that Captain Kidd has won a posthumous victory over his English foes who publicly shamed, tried, and hung him for the crimes of Henry Every and the other true Red Sea pirates. The same powerful forces that humiliated and destroyed the American colonial have made him a staple of popular culture and sanctified his historical legacy in a way he never could have imagined. For today, Captain Kidd remains every bit as popular, puzzling, and controversial as he was four centuries ago. The delicious irony of my ninth-great-grandfather, of course, is that, as legendary historian Philip Gosse declared over a century ago, the greatest pirate of all time was “no pirate at all.”
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Instead, he was the consummate New York “Gent” and war hero of the Hudson.

LORE FROM AWAY BACK.
Steamboat Memories of a Man Who Went on the "Powell's" Final Trip.
           
To the Editor of the Sun  — Sir: I have been reading the letters of the Mary Powell and other boats on the Hudson River.  I was born in Hudson, N. Y. in 1836, the son of Henry Hubbel of Hubbel, Clark & Co., owners of the steamer "Fairfield".  Later they bought a boat by the name of "Columbia".  She ran for a number of years and they bought the "Oregon", which was sunk by the steamboat "City of Boston".  The "Oregon" started out from the foot of Harrison street and the "City of Boston" ran from the foot of Vestry street.  The "City of Boston" ran right through the "Oregon's" hull and she sank immediately.  No lives were lost.
           
I wonder if any of the old timers remember the "Hope", which ran from Hudson to Albany?  It took her most all day to make the run between the cities.  There was another line of boats running from Hudson to New York under the firm of Lovett R. Mellen & Co.  They ran the steamboats "Hudson" and "South America".  There was an old boat named "Westchester" that ran from Hudson, but that was before I was born.  The firm of Hubbel, Clark & Co. ran two barges from Hudson, "Nos. 1 and 2".  The firm of Lovett R. Mellen & Co. also ran two barges, the "Lovett R. Mellen" and the "Samuel Leeds".  These boats carried hay and grain and other products.  At the time I speak of there were boats running from New York to Albany.  They were the "Isaac Newton", "Hendrick Hudson" and "Niagara".  I remember well the night of the wreck of the "Swallow".  It was during an awful heavy thunderstorm and she ran on a rock a little north of Athens.  Some lives were lost, but I don't remember the number.
           
I remember the "Mary Powell" when she was built and was on board when she made her trip down the bay and around New York harbor.  I was in the employ of Haviland, Clark & Co. at the time the "Oregon" sank, and also in the employ of George H. Powers when the steamer "Berkshire" burned near Stony Point.  I was also in the employ of the same firm when the "Nupha" was rebuilt from the Berkshire's hull.  She was a propeller.  While she was making her first trip down, the ice stove in her hull — broke the sides right in.  Just where it happened I can't remember.  She was later raised and her named changed to "Metropolitan", and she ran on the East River.  I well remember the "Alida", "Armenia" and "Mattamoras".
           
I remember well the burning of the "Henry Clay" and the "Reindeer".  A friend of mine, Charles Carpenter, now living at Hudson, was aboard when the boiler burst on the "Reindeer".  At the time of the Civil War [1861-1865] the "Connecticut" and "Oregon" ran from Hudson, and the "Utica" and "Washington" ran from Catskill.  I think the "Daniel Drew" and the "Chauncey Vibbard" were the day boats to Albany.  The "Niagara" and "Alida" were later made into towboats and towed from Albany to New York.  The "Connecticut" and "Oswego" also were made into towboats.  I also remember the "Francis Skiddy", a four piped, side wheeled boat, which ran on the Day Line.   John H. Hubbel.

Editor's Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article written by George W. Murdock, for the Kingston (NY) Daily Freeman newspaper in the 1930s. Murdock, a veteran marine engineer, wrote a regular column. Articles transcribed by HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan. ​

                                                                No. 14- Charlotte Vanderbilt
The “Charlotte Vanderbilt” was a wooden-hull boat built by B.C. Terry at Keyport, N.J., in 1857. She was 207 feet long and was constructed as an experiment, but proved a failure.

Because the “Charlotte Vanderbilt” could make no better than 12 miles per hour with her experimental engine, she was laid aside, and it was not until 1862 that she came into regular service, and then only after the installation of a new engine.

In 1861 the “Robert L. Stevens,” and old Hudson river night line boat plying between Saugerties and New York, was condemned and her engine was removed and placed in the unused “Vanderbilt.” Thus in 1862, the “Charlotte Vanderbilt” replaced the “Stevens” on the night line between the two river ports, but her name was changed to the “William F. Russel.” Later she was chartered by the War Department and her name changed to the “John Tucker.” After the Civil War she sailed in southern waters in and around Washington and Baltimore under the original name “Charlotte Vanderbilt.”

In 1877 she was purchased by the Catskill line for service between Catskill and New York, and it was in this service that she met her end.

​On Friday evening, July 14, 1882, the “Charlotte Vanderbilt” headed down the Hudson for New York and at the time about two miles below the Rondout light house collided with Belden’s steam yacht “Yosemite,” which was sailing up the river. The “Vanderbilt” was struck at the forward gangway and was cut in two, sinking immediately. Fortunately there were no passengers or freight aboard at the time, and the crew was rescued. The vessel was never raised.