Now that Fulton had attained his heart’s desire,—the great plan for steam navigation,—there was no time to rest upon his laurels. One success is but a key to future opportunity. He reasoned well that the Hudson had provided only the opening chapter, as it were, to a great volume of possible attainments. Every river in the world offered an equal avenue for the march of progress in transportation.

That first voyage of the Clermont revealed many slight imperfections which Fulton’s fertile brain immediately remedied in imagination. He laid the vessel up in dock at New York for two weeks that he might add to her equipment and improve the conditions on board for the comfort of the passengers. He boarded the sides, decked over the boiler, furnished each cabin, fore and aft, with twelve berths, and strengthened the ironwork in many parts. He also had the boat thoroughly calked, and as much rain fell during the time, the work was delayed. Fulton described these improvements in a letter to the Chancellor, and joyously wrote, “The boat will be as complete as she can be made—all strong and in good order and the men well organized; and I hope nothing to do but to run her for six weeks or two months,—I will have her registered and everything done which I can recollect. Everything looks well and I have no doubt will be very productive.”

On September 2d, Fulton advertised in the New York Evening Post as follows: “The North River Steam Boat Will leave Pauler’s Hook on Friday, the 4th of September, at 6 in the morning, and arrive at Albany, on Saturday, at 6 in the afternoon. Provisions, good berths, and accommodations are provided.”

An announcement of rates followed; three dollars to Newburgh, and seven to Albany, with suitable prices for intermediate stations; the rate of travel was fourteen hours to Newburgh and thirty-six to Albany. It was stated that the boat would leave Albany twice and New York once during the succeeding week, after which further schedules would be published.

This time-table was duly carried out; bright and early, at half past six, on a clear September morning, the fourteen passengers brave enough to venture started on their northward trip. When they arrived, they found Fulton already on board, his actions confident and decided, unheeding the fear of some and the sarcasm of others. His clear tones could be heard above the hum of the voices of the multitude—which had gathered to watch the departure—and the noise made by the escaping steam which leaked from several valves. So we learn from Judge John Q. Wilson, of Albany, one of the fourteen who dared to make the voyage though warned by a prudent Quaker friend: “Wilt thou risk thy life in such a concern? I tell thee she is the most fearful wild fowl living and thy father ought to restrain thee.”

But though a predicted failure, the voyage proved so pleasant an experience that the passengers drew up a statement to record their satisfaction. Gerrit H. Van Wagenen served as timekeeper and Judge Wilson drafted the testimonial which, signed by the entire company, was published in the Albany Register of September 8th.

From Verplanck’s Point to Wappinger’s Creek the wind was favorable but light: after that it was ahead or calm, yet they made the full distance of 150 miles in 28 hours and 45 minutes. Judge Wilson wrote: “The subscribers, passengers on board of this boat on her first passage as a packet, think it but justice to state that the accommodations and conveniences on board exceeded their most sanguine expectations.”

They had an amusing experience at Haverstraw Bay. As the boat steamed along, a man in a skiff lay in wait. His appearance showed him to be a miller, for his hair and clothing were covered with flour. He had evidently dashed forth from his mill on the riverside when he saw the queer boat approaching, had boarded his skiff and rowed out into the stream for a conversation with the captain. He signaled that he would like to come on board, so Fulton ordered that a rope be thrown him to draw his skiff alongside the Clermont. He called out that he “did not know a mill could go up-stream, so he came to enquire about it.” One of the passengers, Dennis Doyle, an Irishman who loved a good joke, offered to guide him all over “the mill.” The miller climbed on board, and Dennis showed him all the wheels and machinery and told him in fun that by a simple contrivance one wheel could be thrown out of gear when the mill was to go up-stream. “But show me the grindstones,” said the miller. Dennis kept a straight face and pointing to Fulton answered, “That is a secret which the master has not yet told us: when we come back from Albany with our load of corn, if you come on board then, you will see the meal fly.” The simple-minded miller rowed back to the shore, wondering whether he could really move his own mill up-stream in the same fashion.

At West Point the whole garrison was on the river bank to cheer the boat, while at Newburgh it seemed as though the entire population of Orange County had assembled; the hillside city was all alert. The ferry, a sail-boat from Fishkill, was crowded by a party of ladies, and the captain tacked close to the steamboat, which had just landed a passenger at the dock. The flapping of the near-by sail attracted Fulton’s attention and he raised his eyes to meet a flutter of handkerchiefs and a group of smiling, happy faces. He hurriedly raised his hat in acknowledgment as he gallantly exclaimed, “That is the finest sight we have seen yet!”

The passengers’ statement in the newspaper was a fine advertisement for the new mode of travel and by October the Clermont was well established as a passenger carrier.

Fulton wrote a letter to Captain Brink, on October 9th, which showed a good master of the new enterprise. He expected every man in his employ to do his duty,—there was to be no half-way service. It gives an insight into Fulton’s strength of character and reveals an important factor in his success:

Captain Brink continued in charge of the Clermont during the season of 1807 and was succeeded the following spring by Captain Samuel Wiswall who was employed by Fulton for many years. The boat ran well, with only one accident, when, on November 13th, a cast-iron axletree broke, as the Clermont was setting out from New York and she was obliged to return for repairs. By this time the weather was cool and ice was forming in the river. On the 20th of November Fulton wrote to the Chancellor,—“It is now time to lay her up for the winter. Nothing should be risqued from bad weather—the gain will be trifling, the risque great.” He adds another warning in postscript: “Do not risque the engine in the winds and waves of the season.” He also outlined the changes and enlargements he planned to make in the boat during the winter.

Through the cold weather she was laid up at the north end of the Hudson and underwent extensive repairs and alterations. An interesting letter written by Francis Sayre, of Catskill, describes the changes and gives so many interesting facts that it is here printed. He writes under date of September, 1857:

“I am as far as I know the only person now living who was on board the first steamboat on her trial trip from New York to Albany. I do not refer to the trial trip which was made in 1807, but to the first trip made by the old North River, the first passenger boat propelled by steam.

“The craft employed by Mr. Fulton on the trial trip (called the Clermont, but probably never registered) was taken to what was then called Lower Red Hook and in the winter of 1807 and 1808 was hauled on ways to be enlarged and converted into a commodious steamboat. The alterations and enlargement were made by ship-builders of the city of Hudson during the winter and spring. She was launched about the first of May and called the North River. She was taken down to New York by Captain Samuel Jenkins, who had her in temporary charge, until Captain (afterward styled Commodore) Wiswall should be able to assume command. On arriving at New York she was taken to the dock at the foot of Dey Street (then far up town) where the machinery was put on board, and the cabin and carpenter’s work were completed. This was done with a rapidity which in those days was considered extraordinary, Mr. Fulton himself overseeing and attending to every part. He was usually on board as early as five o’clock in the morning and would be there almost the entire day. I never knew a more industrious, indefatigable, laborious man. Fulton’s new steamboat was the wonder of the day. She was visited daily by hundreds of the curious who asked many queer questions in relation to the operation of the steam and machinery; one of these almost invariably was, ‘Where and how was the steam to be conveyed to the waterwheel?’ The crowd of visitors became in time a great annoyance and hindrance to the workers on board and I recollect a very amusing incident connected with the attempt to prevent intrusion. Mr. Fulton directed a painter to letter a board with the words:

One Dollar for any Person to Come on Board Without Liberty

which was put up in a conspicuous place.

“One day a sailor came along and read the notice. Jack was not long in putting his construction upon it, and with a knowing wink of the eye, jumped on board without ceremony, pointed to the sign, and accosted the man nearest him with, ‘Mister, who pays me that dollar?’

“Mr. Fulton was standing near and laughed heartily, a thing unusual for him, for while among the workmen he was generally rather taciturn and grave, giving his orders and directions in a laconic manner. He would listen, however, to suggestions made by the more practical, and would often modify his orders to accord with such suggestions. During the time these preparations were going forward, trials were made of the working of the machinery by hauling out into the stream, putting on steam, and starting the engine. This was no small affair, for when the engineer gave the notice, ‘All ready,’ all hands were called,—carpenters, joiners, painters, calkers, laborers and crew,—to prevent what is termed ‘catching on the center.’ During one of these trials, when going up the river at the rate of six or eight miles an hour, Mr. Fulton stood looking over the bow of the boat for fifteen or twenty minutes, intently watching the motion and speed of the boat, apparently wholly absorbed. Suddenly he wheeled and addressed a friend who stood near him with great enthusiasm, exclaiming, ‘My good friend, she is a fine boat and our success is certain.’

“Commodore Wiswall was now in command. At the hour appointed, 9 A.M., for her departure for Albany, Chancellor Livingston with a number of invited friends came on board and, after a good deal of bustle and no little noise and confusion, the boat was got into the stream and headed up the river. Steam was put on and sails were set, for she was provided with large square sails attached to masts that were so constructed that they could be raised or lowered as the direction and strength of wind might require. There was at the time a light breeze from the south, and with steam and sails a very satisfactory rate of speed was attained. Fast-sailing sloops were passed with ease, the machinery worked finely and everything seemed to promise well. After a time, however, it was discovered that steam was escaping from the boiler. This boiler was constructed of wood, a cylinder perhaps twenty feet long and ten in diameter, bound with heavy iron bands, with iron tubes extending from the lower part of the furnace. The heat imparted to the iron bands by the steam produced a shrinking of the wood directly under them, while the spaces between them would swell with moisture imparted by the steam so that the edges of the planks would be uneven, leaving open spaces through which the steam escaped. How could the difficulty be obviated? Resort was had to covering the boiler with blankets and carpets which, to some extent, prevented this evil and, as the favorable wind continued, we kept on the even tenor of our way and just before sunrise next morning we were at Clermont, the residence of the Chancellor, who with his friends landed, and the boat proceeded to Albany, where we arrived at 2 or 3 P.M.”

When the boat reached New York, on the return trip, Fulton immediately had a copper boiler made to replace that of wood which had caused the trouble. He was very energetic and ready to take any trouble or incur any expense necessary to perfect the boat.

As soon as the North River of Clermont, as she was enrolled May 14th, 1808, was completed to Fulton’s satisfaction, he began to build a companion boat, thereby establishing a service from each port twice a week. This boat, the Car of Neptune, was followed by a third, the Paragon. The last was, of course, the best, for Fulton improved each model by noting the imperfections of its predecessor. He humorously wrote, in a private letter, of 1812, “My Paragon beats everything on this globe, for made as you and I are, we cannot tell what is in the moon—this Day she came on From Albany 150 miles in 26 hours wind ahead.”[3]

But during these years, busy as they were, Fulton had not forgotten his dream of universal peace through the work of his other invention,—the submarine torpedo-boat. You will remember that when Fulton reached America he laid his plans before Mr. Madison, Secretary of State, and Mr. Smith, Secretary of the Navy. These gentlemen were so impressed that they influenced the government to grant some money for an experiment in the harbor of New York. In the spring of 1807, to prepare the minds of the citizens for the new invention, Fulton invited the mayor and other gentlemen to Governor’s Island, where he showed them his machines and the copper cylinders for his torpedoes.

In time the meeting developed a humorous aspect. The spectators became so interested that they crowded eagerly around him as he explained, “Gentlemen, I have here a charged torpedo with which, precisely in its present state, I mean to blow up a vessel. It contains one hundred and seventy-five pounds of gunpowder, and if I were to allow the clockwork to run for fifteen minutes, I have no doubt that it would blow this fortification to atoms.” His listeners first looked at each other aghast, then the more prudent hastily stepped back, and one by one the others slipped away until Mr. Fulton found himself alone, with only two or three of the bravest of his auditors peering at him from under a distant gateway! None dared to return until he placed the deadly torpedo back in its place in the magazine.

On the 20th of July he blew up a large brig in the harbor of New York, and described this experiment with others in his book, “Torpedo War or Submarine Explosions.” After three attempts the vessel was blown to atoms, only a column of water, smoke and fragments being left to show where she had been floating. The next day Fulton wrote a letter to the governor and magistrates of the city in which he said:

“Gunpowder, within the last three hundred years, has totally changed the art of war; and all my reflections have led me to believe that this application of it will in a few years put a stop to maritime wars, give that liberty on the seas which has been long and anxiously desired by every good man, and secure to America that liberty of commerce, tranquility, and independence which will enable her citizens to apply their mental and corporal faculties to useful and humane pursuits, to the improvement of our country, and the happiness of the whole people.”

So did Fulton dream of peace,—a dream still unfulfilled, yet worthy of our future hope.

In 1810 Congress appointed a committee to decide upon the worth of Fulton’s submarine warfare, and Commodore John Rodgers was told to do all he could to get the sloop Argus ready to resist the attack Fulton was to make upon her. Commodore Rodgers entered the contest with the enthusiasm of a boy. He had a strong wire netting stretched around the bottom of the boat and anchored lashed spars to float at her sides; while grappling irons, hung far out from the rigging, were ready to plunge at any boat approaching with hostile intent. Huge scythes were hinged to her decks, ready to cut off the heads of any sailors who ventured within reach. It takes an American to beat an American! Fulton confessed that, for the time, he had been outwitted but promised the officers of the navy that he would yet find a way to conquer the difficulties.

His method is described in a letter to his old friend Joel Barlow; it says in part:

“I have had some trouble with the torpedo experiments in consequence of the determined opposition of the officers of the navy, for which I now thank them. They had placed splinter nets across the bow of the vessel with weights which held them to the ground; booms were floated in the water and spaced out 20 feet from her sides to guard her sides. Grappling oars with sword blades and ballast in slings, to show how they could sink my boats, made a formidable appearance against one poor torpedo boat and eight poor men. Moreover, all this would not have saved them had the nets not been to the ground; I was not prepared for nets thus arranged. Hence the committee gave me till the 29th of this month to show how I would get through the nets or carry them away. I am now prepared to prove that nets and booms are no better protection than cobwebs. Commodore Rodgers opposes me with much ardor and ingenuity; the reason he says I cannot do it is that I have not practical nautical knowledge; this might be true but reflection for the last 113 days has given me knowledge to the same effect, so that with a log-ship of about two hundred tons burden arranged with torpedoes and without cannon, I will destroy any ship that ever was built, that is, if she dare to lay at anchor, or if in fact she does not run away faster than I can run to overtake her; this fortunately can be done in port, along our coast, or in open sea: I have just finished a model of this log torpedo ship, also a bullet-proof torpedo boat that acts without oars,—thus you see I am on the highroad to success and in good spirits.”

But although Fulton’s system was not then adopted, he had gained the recognition of the United States Navy, and had presented the germ for expansion in other minds for submarine warfare, now practiced by navies throughout the world. Moreover, he had the honor of building, in 1814, the first steam war-ship, the Demologus, meaning “The Voice of the People,” later named Fulton.

This alone gives the inventor high honor, for in time it changed all the navies of the world. Our country has recognized Fulton’s patriotism by naming its first submarine tender to burn oil in her engines, the Fulton (1914), and has retained his name “torpedo” for all its submarine craft.