Steam-ships

When once the ability of steam-ships to make open-sea passages such as those between Liverpool, Belfast, and Glasgow had been demonstrated, shipowners began to turn their attention to the possibility of steamers crossing the Atlantic. The first steam vessel which is known to have made the crossing is the Conde de Patmella. Unfortunately very little is known about this boat. She sailed from Liverpool on October 20, 1820, for Lisbon, and arrived there in the remarkably short time of four days. Thence she sailed for the Brazils, being the first steam vessel to cross the Atlantic from east to west. In the year 1819 the Savannah, a sailing vessel using an auxiliary steam-engine, crossed the Atlantic, but as this vessel sailed nearly the whole of the way and scarcely used her engines except when leaving or entering port, she cannot be described as having made the first steam crossing, although this claim is often put forward by American writers. But this voyage of the Savannah is of great historical interest, as it proved what many had doubted, viz., the possibility of a sailing vessel with steam auxiliary crossing the Atlantic, and carrying enough coals for her purpose. This boat when built was not intended for a steamer. Messrs. Scarborough and Isaacs of Savannah thought that a sail-plus-steam crossing could be made, and they accordingly instructed Moses Rogers (who, it has already been mentioned, had made the first sea trip by steamboat from New York to the Delaware in 1807 with Stevens’ Phœnix) to look out for a hull in which an engine could be placed for the experiment. He found the Savannah then being built by Francis Ficket, of the firm of Ficket and Crocker, at New York, and she was accordingly purchased for Scarborough and Isaacs. Her engine is stated to have been built at Morristown, New Jersey, by Stephen Vail, though Daniel Dod[45] of Elizabeth, New Jersey—one of the foremost marine engineers of America at that time—who built the boilers and paddle-wheels, is sometimes said to have been responsible for the engines also. The paddle-wheels were constructed with eight radii, which were hinged at the axle, so that they could be folded and removed from the paddle-shaft, and stowed on deck in dirty weather. She was a full-rigged ship of 350 tons burden, 130 feet in length by 26 feet beam, and 16¹⁄₂ feet depth. Her trial trip in New York Bay in March 1819 was considered satisfactory, although the steam pressure employed was only 2 lb., while the estimated pressure was 10 lb. On March 28, 1819, she sailed for Savannah. Her engines were not used until April 2, when her wheels were placed on the paddle-shafts. They were shipped and unshipped at intervals, until the conclusion of the voyage on April 6. At Charleston, South Carolina, President Monroe, of “Doctrine” fame, visited her. She then returned to Savannah, and sailed thence for Liverpool on May 24 carrying neither passengers nor cargo.

On this first voyage to Savannah, which occupied 207 hours, the engines were running for only 4¹⁄₂ hours. On June 17 she arrived off the coast of Ireland, where the revenue cruiser Kite pursued her, under the impression that she was a ship on fire, and three days later she was off Liverpool. The voyage occupied 29 days 11 hours, and according to the record kept by Rogers, which is now preserved in the United States National Museum, steam was raised six times on the voyage and the engines were run for a total of 80 hours. The reason the engines were used so little was that she had a very insufficient supply of fuel. She steamed up the Mersey, her arrival—the arrival of the first vessel under steam from America—being witnessed by thousands of persons, some of whom could hardly believe their eyes, so often had the voyage been described as impossible of accomplishment.

Extracts from the Savannah’s log read:

“Saturday, May 22, 1819.—These twenty-four hours begins with fresh breezes at N.E. at 7 A.M. got steam up, winded ship, and hove up the anchor, at 9 A.M. started with the steam from Savannah, at 12 A.M. anchored at Tybee stowed the boat and spars and lashed them. Latter part light breezes at S.E. and flying clouds.

“Sunday, May 23, 1819.—These twenty-four hours begins with fresh breezes at east and clear, latter part light breezes and clear.

“Monday, May 24, 1819.—These twenty-four hours begins with light breezes and clear at 5 A.M. got under way off Tybee Light and put to sea with steam and sails, at 6 A.M. left the pilot, at 8 A.M. took off the wheels in twenty minutes, middle part pleasant. Course E.N.E., wind S.S.E., the ship going 6.7.8. to 9 knots, and without her wheels.

“Tuesday, May 25, 1819.—These twenty-four hours begins with light breezes and pleasant, all sail set to the best advantage at 12 A.M. Tybee Light bore W. 6 S. 8 leagues distant from which I take my departure.”

The ship continued under canvas until May 30, when at 8 A.M. steam was got up for ten hours. And on June 18 the captain entered: “4 P.M. Cork bore W. 6 S. 5 leagues distant. At 2 A.M. calm, no cole to git up steam.”

A later entry on Sunday, June 20, 1819, reads: “5 P.M. shipped the wheels, frld. the sails, and running to the River Mercer at 6 P.M. came to anchor off Liverpool with the small bower anchor.”

The voyage was not without its humorous side. The sailing master, Rogers, communicated to the New London (Connecticut) Gazette an account of their experiences. The Cape Clear telegraph station had reported a ship on fire, and the Admiral at Cork despatched a cutter to her relief.

“Great was their wonder at their inability,” says the paper, “with all sail in a fast vessel, to come up with a ship under bare poles. After several shots were fired from the cutter the engine was stopped, and the surprise of her crew at the mistake they had made, as well as their curiosity to see the singular Yankee craft, can be easily imagined. They asked permission to go on board and were much gratified by the inspection of this naval novelty. On approaching Liverpool hundreds of people came off in boats to see her. She was compelled to lay outside the bar till the tide should serve for her to go in. During this time she had her colours all flying, when a boat from a British sloop of war came alongside and hailed. The sailing master was on deck at the time and answered. The officer of the boat asked him—‘Where is your master?’ to which he gave the laconic reply, ‘I have no master, sir.’ ‘Where’s your captain, then?’ ‘He’s below; do you wish to see him?’ ‘I do, sir.’ The captain, who was then below, on being called, asked what he wanted, to which he answered—‘Why do you wear that pennant, sir?’ ‘Because my country allows me to, sir.’ ‘My commander thinks it was done to insult him, and if you don’t take it down he will send a force that will do it.’ Captain Rogers then exclaimed to the engineer—‘Get the hot-water engine ready.’ There was no such machine on board, but the order had the required effect and the boat sheered off.”

From Liverpool the Savannah sailed for St. Petersburg, calling at Elsinore and Stockholm. This voyage lasted thirty-three days, on ten of which the vessel was under steam; and twice the machinery was run for a spell of fifty-two hours. Eighteen hours was her longest spell while crossing the Atlantic. The homeward voyage was made in the stormy months of October and November. The paddles were unshipped throughout that voyage and were not again used until November 30, when she arrived at Savannah, the ocean journey having been made under sail only. The cost of purchasing and fitting out the Savannah for this experimental voyage was £10,000. In December she returned to New York, her machinery was removed, and she was then used as a sailer between New York and Savannah until 1822, when she left her bones on the shores of Long Island.

One of the earliest steamers to cross the Atlantic in a west-bound direction was a little vessel called the Rising Star.[46] It was decided in 1818 that she should be built, but it was not until 1820 that her construction was begun. It has even been disputed that this vessel made the voyage at all, and many of the principal books of reference do not mention her; nevertheless, it appears to be indisputable that she existed, that she made the voyage to Chili, and that she had an eventful career which lasted several years, and was finally wrecked; and that the circumstances under which she left this country for Chili in connection with the Chilian revolution in favour of independence, and the events subsequent to her arrival as far as paying for the steamer is concerned, reflect as little credit upon the Chilian Government as upon that of Great Britain. Early in the last century the relations between Chili and Spain became strained to breaking-point. The Chilian people determined to free themselves from the yoke of Spain and to establish a republic. Whatever may be the case now, there is little question that one of the characteristics of all the South American States at that time and for many years afterwards was an extraordinary ingratitude towards those who had in any way helped them. The history of that revolution and of the prominent part which Lord Cochrane played in bringing it to a successful issue are too well known to need recapitulation, but a short reference to it is not out of place in considering the circumstances under which the Rising Star was sent on her journey.

In a recent letter to the writer Lord Dundonald says: “In 1817, when my grandfather, the tenth Earl of Dundonald, was engaged by the Chilian Government to create and take command of the Chilian Navy, he made a stipulation that a steamboat should at once be constructed and sent out to Chili to take part in the war, his opinion being that the great disparity in numbers between the Chilian Navy and the Spanish Navy in the Pacific would be neutralised by the advantage obtained in utilising a steam vessel for purposes of war. The vessel was constructed on the Thames at Rotherhithe, and my grandfather had anticipated going out in her, but as she took longer in construction than was expected, he went out with his wife and two children in the Rose merchantman of 300 tons.

“It appears that the Rising Star was taken out by my great-uncle, Major the Hon. William Cochrane, but apparently she arrived in Chili when my grandfather had practically swept the seas of the Spanish fleet; a revolution had just taken place on her arrival and there was no money available to pay for the Rising Star. The history of the claim made against the Chilian Government by Major the Hon. William Cochrane of course need not be gone into except in a word or two; as you will understand, Chili was at that time a prey to revolution and a poor country with little money and little credit; she repudiated obligations at that time and would be much ashamed of her action now.”

Don José Alvarez, the Chilian agent, in a communication to Lord Cochrane, had called attention to the “unfortunate delay,” and urged him to embark immediately with his family in the ship Rose to proceed to Chili. The agent’s letter contained “the assurance that I will attend to the affairs of the Rising Star, and take care that everything is done to her.”

The memorial of the Hon. William Erskine Cochrane to the President of the Chilian Republic many years later, in reciting the circumstance, states that Mr. Edward Ellice, then an eminent English merchant and a well-wisher to the independence of Chili, undertook the completion and equipment of the Rising Star, but after having expended £8000 and the machinery being found defective, he declined making any further advance, and being unable to obtain repayment of the sum he had expended or the funds requisite for the necessary alterations and equipment he advertised the vessel for sale. Don Alvarez then wrote to Lord Cochrane on April 18, 1820, announcing Messrs. Ellice and Co.’s intentions and solicited his assistance and added: “I shall, on the part of the Government of Chili, agree to the following terms: The ship, engines and stores to be sold or made over to any one of your nomination for £6000; by that person and at his expense, the engines must be altered in the following manner, viz., the pipes which convey the steam from the boilers to be removed and larger ones provided. Alterations to be made in the condensers. The paddle-blades to be altered. The smoke apparatus to be completed and fitted, and the effect of the engines tried. The ship must then undergo any necessary repairs in her hull and rigging, when she must be manned, victualled, insured, and conveyed to Chili at the expence of the purchaser; boats and pumps of which she is now deficient must also be provided. The amount of these various items, together with the interest of money and profit, to be calculated at nine thousand pounds, so that on the arrival of the vessel at Chili she will be purchased by Government at fifteen thousand pounds.[47] In addition to which the licences formerly granted to Messrs. Ellice for the importation of goods to the amount of 40,000 dollars[48] of duties shall be made over and transferred to the person who undertakes this matter, and all property conveyed out in the Rising Star shall be admitted into Chili free of duties.”[49]

The Rising Star was completed, and arrived at Valparaiso in April 1822. But Lord Cochrane’s work was practically over and she was therefore not required for the purpose originally intended of enabling the Chilians to cope with the Spanish Navy. In June 1823 there was a sudden change of government in Chili, and the O’Higgins Cabinet was overthrown. The change was accompanied by the restless outbreaks which have often marked political differences in the South American States, and a good many of the papers relating to the building of the Rising Star and sending her to Chili were destroyed.

The new Chilian Government, being very short of money, took advantage of the destruction of the papers and repudiated the obligation to Lord Cochrane. It would take too much space to go into the details of this lamentable affair, but it is sufficient to say that the vessel was sold, that the Cochrane interest in her vanished, and the Hon. Wm. E. Cochrane was called on for payment of a considerable additional sum solely in consequence of the vexatious delay of the Chilian Government in saying whether they would or would not fulfil their engagement.

From a journal kept by Major W. E. Cochrane it appears that on May 31, 1820, he made his first payment of £50 on account of the vessel to Mr. Kier, engineer. He seems to have visited very frequently the yard at Deptford where the vessel was built, sometimes with the Chilian agent, and payments on account of construction of £50 or so are frequent. By the 14th of the following September the engines were sufficiently advanced to undergo a trial, with what result is not stated. On October 6, he paid Mr. Ellice £2000 on account of the price of the ship. On the 17th he paid her another visit, when the engines were tried, and on the 18th he went again and tried the open paddles. Extensive alterations to the engines were necessary, for on November 11 there appears the item that he paid the balance of Kier’s account for that work, £163 4s. 11d. On January 30, 1821, he went and took dimensions for the smoke-burning apparatus.

The Rising Star left the dock on February 5, when the engineers received £1 for working on Sunday. On the 7th, the wheels were tried and one of them broke, and on the 8th he ordered the wheels to be brought to town. On the 16th, a payment was made of £79 19s. “for the deeds relating to the purchasing of the Rising Star.” On the 21st, he paid a bricklayer for constructing the smoke-burning apparatus in the flues of the boilers. Presumably the repairs were effected after the ship had been returned to dock, for on February 22 she was taken out of dock again. On March 20, the name of Captain Scott, as master, first appears. On the 24th, Major Cochrane “went to the ship and got the balance wheels fixed,” and on the 26th “tried the wheels, which did not propel.” The weights were taken off the paddles on the following day and reversed, and another trial was made of which the result is not stated, and there was yet another trial on the 11th of the following month. In April he paid to Mr. Brent, the builder, for docking the Rising Star, £120 15s. 3d. On May 9 he ordered “my new vertical paddles,” which were erected on the 29th. On this date there is a curious entry: “Steward and boat 6s. 6d.,” which is probably the first recorded instance of a ship’s steward receiving a tip. The wheels were tried while the vessel was in dock on June 8, and were found to act well, and Don José Alvarez visited her the next day.

On the 11th of that month the first real trial of the ship took place, for the entry reads: “Tried the ship with my vertical paddles. She went from 5 to 6 knots, (standard broke).” A new standard was ordered and on July 5, “tried my new paddles, went 20 miles at the rate of 5³⁄₄ knots an hour.” On the 18th of that month he paid Brent’s bill for alterations and repairs, £193 3s. 8d. On September 4 the ship was taken five miles down the river, and on the 11th he “ordered her into dock to have her paddle-case closed (on account of insurance).” The paddle-cases were fitted on the 13th, and on October 17 she went down to Gravesend. Then comes a series of entries which are interesting as showing the rates of pay at the time.

They are as follows, and are dated October 18:

The Rising Star sailed from Gravesend on October 22, 1821. Numerous heavy bills came in shortly afterwards, among which are “Insurance on ship £800,” and Mr. Brown’s account, in which is included the heavy expenses at Cork, when the ship put in there in distress, having sprung a leak off the coast of Portugal, £913 9s. 1¹⁄₂d.

Altogether the actual outlay in cash amounted to £13,295 4s. 4¹⁄₂d. The sum agreed upon in the arrangement with Don Alvarez was £15,000, to which was added the interest to the year in which the claim was made thirty-four years later, bringing the total amount of the claim of the Cochrane family on account of this little steamer to £40,500.

Mr. W. Jackson went to Chili to join Lord Cochrane as secretary, and remained with him in that capacity until his lordship’s return to England. Mr. Jackson wrote on June 20, 1856, from Melton Mowbray: “I sailed in her [the Rising Star] to Valparaiso, having been appointed joint agent with Mr. Barnard, already at that place, for her transfer to the Chilian Government. She arrived there in April 1822 in excellent condition, having proved herself a very superior sea-boat, frequently going twelve knots an hour. She was then tendered to the Government on the terms of the contract, but they first claimed her in virtue of a partial advance they had made for the building of the hull, and failing to obtain possession on that ground they repudiated the contract with Alvarez altogether, without assigning any valid reason for so doing. The sum agreed to be paid on her delivery was £15,000, no part of which was there received.”

Unfortunately, little is known as to the nature of her machinery or means of propulsion. An illustration of the Rising Star, published in 1821, represents her as a full-rigged ship and carrying two funnels placed abreast and situated between the main and fore masts; but she seems to have neither paddle-boxes nor uncovered paddle-wheels. The description attached to the picture states that the Rising Star was “built under the direction of Lord Cochrane upon the principle of navigating either by sails or by steam, the propelling apparatus being placed in the hold and caused to operate through apertures in the bottom of the vessel.”

From this it may be conjectured either that the paddles were discarded or that she was also fitted with some modification of the jet system.

Although no further attempt was made to send a steamer across the Atlantic for many years, the project was not lost sight of, and schemes innumerable were formed and abandoned. Ten years after the Savannah’s voyage some Dutch merchants purchased the Curaçoa, a Clyde-built vessel of 320 tons, and despatched her to the West Indies from Antwerp. Her engines were of 100 horse-power, and consumed slightly over seven pounds of coal per indicated horse-power per hour, but there is no record of her having attempted to make the voyage under steam.

The first steamer to cross the Atlantic from west to east depending largely though not entirely on her own steam was the Royal William, built by James Goudie for the Quebec and Halifax Steam Navigation Company at Quebec, in the shipyard of Black and Saxton Campbell, upon the lines of an early Clyde steamer, the United Kingdom, built by Steele of Greenock in 1826 for the London and Leith service. She was 176 feet long, and 146 feet between perpendiculars. Her beam was 27 feet, and outside the paddle-boxes 43 feet 10 inches, and her depth 17 feet 9 inches. Her tonnage is variously given as 830 gross[51] and 1370 B.M.[52] She had side-lever engines of 180 horse-power[53] or 200 horse-power,[54] by Boulton and Watt. She was engined at St. Mary’s foundry, Montreal. Her launch took place on April 29, 1831, and after trading for a time between Quebec and Nova Scotian ports she was sold to another company, which ultimately tried the experiment of sending her across the Atlantic. Mr. Samuel Cunard was one of the directors of this company, but there is nothing to show that he assisted in the promotion of the scheme to send her over the ocean.[55] Nevertheless it is a fact that “the idea of starting a line of steamers to connect the two countries had occurred to his mind as early as 1830.”[56] On August 4, 1833, the Royal William sailed from Quebec, coaled at Pictou, and began her journey. She is said to have steamed the greater part of the way, some writers say the whole of it, and arrived at Gravesend on September 11 after calling at Cowes. Probably owing to there being another vessel of the same name a few years later, some misconception has arisen as to her performance, for as a matter of fact, the first Royal William did not steam all the way, but made a considerable portion of the voyage under sail alone. It is to the credit of Canadians, however, that this steamer was despatched, and it is upon this particular enterprise that the claim of the Canadians to have made the first steam-ship voyage across the Atlantic is founded. The subsequent history of this vessel is interesting. She stayed in the Port of London for a few weeks, after which she was chartered by the Portuguese, and while in their service her speed attracted the attention of the Spanish Government. The Spaniards purchased her towards the end of 1833 at the time of the first Carlist rebellion and changed her name to the Ysabel Secunda. It was shortly after this that she obtained the doubtful honour of being the first steamer to fire a gun in war, the Spaniards having armed her with six cannon. Her eventful career ended when she went to pieces on the Santander rocks.

These two voyages stand in a class by themselves, and both mark a distinct step forward in the progress of the modern mercantile marine. The earliest steamboats, whether European, British, or American, were smooth-water vessels only, and were admitted to be of an elementary and experimental character. The Charlotte Dundas and Comet in Scotland and the Clermont and Phœnix in America were much beyond anything that had preceded them, and were significant as indicating a perception of the possibility of extending the activity of steam-propelled boats from the placid waters of canals or rivers to the greater waters of harbours, ports, and estuaries. The four vessels first named demonstrated, each in her own way, that it was necessary to build the hull to suit the engine, instead of acquiring a hull and putting an engine into it and trusting to luck. The Phœnix showed in 1807 that a vessel constructed to carry a steam-engine of a suitable size could be trusted on the open sea, by steaming from New York to the Delaware. A few years later, the Clyde shipbuilders showed that they could construct steamers which should go down the Clyde estuary and even essay the journey to Ireland.

It is true they used sails whenever possible, but when winds or tides were against them the engines alone were depended on. Vessels with two and three masts were employed, and as marine engines were made of greater size, power, and weight, vessels of greater dimensions were equipped with them, and the coastal service was inaugurated. By this time the engine had become a powerful auxiliary to sail on short voyages for which large bunker space was not required. The maintenance of the coastal voyages in all weathers proved the thorough seagoing qualities of the steamers. In estimating the value of the Savannah’s voyage and its place in the history of steam navigation, it must not be forgotten that she was a sailing vessel, was built to be one, that the form of her hull was not altered in any way when she was engined, and that on her return, when her machinery was taken out of her, she resumed her place in her country’s trade as a sailer. Quebec’s Royal William, on the contrary, was designed and built to be a steam auxiliary vessel, and it was not until she had established herself in that capacity that her voyage to the Mother Country was decided upon. The performances of these two ships were thus of great importance; they demonstrated, in the case of the Savannah, that a little sailing ship could carry a small auxiliary engine which might help her in and out of port, and at other times if it were necessary and fuel permitted; and in the case of the Royal William that a steam packet could essay an ocean voyage and depend both upon her sails and steam-engines to enable her to reach her destination in good time.

No further attempts were made, however, until 1838, which was destined to become a memorable year.

Before this, various companies had been proposing to build steamers, but nothing had been done. In 1828 an Act of Parliament was obtained for the incorporation of the Valentia Transatlantic Steam Navigation Company, which was to run a line of steamers from the west coast of Ireland to America. The company proposed to build a steamer at a cost of £21,000. She was to carry fifty cabin passengers and as many in the steerage, and 200 tons of cargo in her hold. It was suggested that she should be of about 800 tons displacement, with engines of 200 horse-power, and her speed was to be such that she could make six voyages each way in twelve months. The company announced in 1828 that it would commence operations immediately, but the public held aloof, and seven years later matters were no further advanced.

Then the project was revived, and considerable interest was taken in it because it was suggested that the enterprise should be worked in connection with the new railway from London, the new Post Office packets and the Valentia Railway.

It was at this time that Dr. Lardner, a man of recognised scientific attainments, made his remarkable assertion regarding the impossibility of establishing steam navigation between New York and Liverpool. According to a report of a meeting at which Dr. Lardner was present, that gentleman pointed out that “the only difficulty would be as to the run from Valentia to St. John’s.” He continued: “As a last resource, however, should the distance between Valentia and St. John’s prove too great they might make the Azores a stage between, so there remained no doubt of the practicability of establishing a steam intercourse with the United States. As to the project of making a voyage directly from New York to Liverpool, it was, he had no hesitation in saying, perfectly chimerical, and they might as well talk of making a voyage from New York or Liverpool to the moon.”[57]

While England was listening to the depressing remarks of Dr. Lardner, America was at work.

In 1835 Junius Smith[58] from Massachusetts began to consider the navigation of the ocean by steamers, and in 1836 he proposed to form the British and American Steam Navigation Company. The company was actually established in 1837 by Mr. Macgregor Laird with a capital of £1,000,000, but Smith’s connection with the scheme ceased, as he saw himself unlikely to make as much out of the enterprise as he had anticipated.

Mr. Kennedy’s “History of Steam Navigation,” however, states that Doctor Julius Smith organised in 1836 “a transatlantic steam-ship company bearing the title of the ‘British Queen Steam Navigation Company,’ with a capital of £1,000,000, and Mr. Macgregor Laird as secretary.” The most remarkable event in the annals of this company is the voyage of the Sirius from London to New York in 1838. “The Sirius! The Sirius! The Sirius! Nothing is talked of in New York but about the Sirius. She is the first steam vessel that has arrived here from England, and a glorious boat she is.... Lieutenant Roberts, R.N., Commander, is the first man that has navigated a steam-ship from Europe to America.”[59] The Sirius was sent across the Atlantic really as a desperate remedy against competition.

The Transatlantic Company had placed a contract as early as 1836 with Messrs. Curling and Young of Blackwall, London, for the construction of the British Queen steam-ship, but the bankruptcy of Messrs. Claude Girdwood and Co. of Glasgow, who had contracted to build the engines, caused considerable delay. Enterprising rivals at Bristol, seizing the opportunity, formed the Great Western Steamship Company to build and equip the Great Western, which they determined to put on the service before the British Queen could be got ready. In this they were successful, and to save the honour of their own company the British Queen directors hired the Sirius from the Cork Steamship Company. It was known at the time that she was too small to be employed as a regular transoceanic trader, and even before she started on her first voyage the announcement was made that she would make two voyages only.

She was 178 feet long, 25¹⁄₂ feet broad, 18¹⁄₄ feet deep, and of 703 tons register. Her engines, like those of all other vessels of her time, were of the side-lever type; their cylinders were of 60 inches diameter, and had a stroke of 6 feet, and she carried a surface condenser similar to those now in use. She was a two-masted vessel, carrying three square sails on the foremast, her aftermast being fore-and-aft rigged only. She had one funnel situated abaft the paddle-boxes, which were about amidships. A picture of the vessel is in existence which represents her as three-masted, and with her paddles rather far forward, but this is inaccurate. She was almost a new ship at this time, and it is not likely that a mast would have been taken out of her between her launch and her Atlantic voyage. Her schooner bows bore as figurehead a dog with a star between his front paws.

The Sirius left London, sailing from East Lane Stairs, on March 28. She took no goods, as she was intended to be a passenger steamer only. On going down the river she overtook the Great Western “with a respectable pleasure party on board,” and a trial of speed was the consequence. When the Sirius had reached Gravesend she was upwards of a mile ahead of her rival. She had made the distance from Greenwich to Gravesend against a strong tide in one hour and fifty-six minutes. Both ships had their colours hoisted, and the banks of the river were thronged with spectators. Soon after the departure of the Sirius the American Line packet-ship Quebec came down the river in tow, and wagers were freely laid that the Quebec would arrive before the Sirius at New York. But those who backed the Quebec lost their money.

The Ocean, a vessel belonging to the Irish Company, acted as tender to the Sirius when the latter called at Cork, and arrived there from Liverpool on April 3, with mails and passengers for the venturesome little craft. At a few minutes after ten o’clock on the morning of the 4th, the Sirius proceeded on her voyage. The day was beautifully fine, every vessel in the harbour was decked with flags in honour of the event, a salute was fired from the battery on shore, and every boat which could be pressed into service was crowded with enthusiastic sightseers when, accompanied by the Ocean, the vessel left the harbour. The Ocean went with her as far as the entrance to the bay.

The Watt, which arrived at Liverpool on April 8, reported having sighted on April 5, in latitude 51° N. and longitude 12° W., the Sirius bound for New York, bravely encountering a westerly gale. “When it is considered,” the Liverpool Standard of the day naively remarked, “that this is the first steam vessel to cross the Atlantic, this information may not be altogether unimportant.”

New York was reached at ten o’clock in the evening of April 22, not without some adventure. Lieutenant Roberts, her commander, was determined to carry the voyage through, but it was only “thanks to stern discipline and the persuasive arguments of loaded firearms” that he brought the crew round to his way of thinking, as they became somewhat demoralised by continuous head-winds and declared that it was utter madness to proceed in so small a vessel. There were 94 passengers on board, of whom 30 were in the state-cabin, 29 in the fore-cabin, and 35 were steerage passengers.[60]

The passage occupied sixteen and a half days, and the average speed was 8¹⁄₂ knots per hour; about twenty-four tons of coal per day being consumed. Her arrival at New York was hailed with delirious enthusiasm, and the excitement was yet further intensified when it became known on the morning of the 23rd, only a few hours after the Sirius had anchored off the Battery, that another steam-ship was sighted making its way to the port, and that the approaching vessel was greater than any steam-ship ever seen in American waters.

This was the Great Western, and New York celebrated the double arrival with that strenuous abandon attainable only in the Empire City.

The Great Western was built at Bristol by Patterson. She was brought round to London and left London again for the western port on March 31. Off Southend she was discovered to be on fire, and the heat and smoke were so great that all the engine-room staff had to take refuge on deck. Fortunately they had forgotten to stop her engines, and the vessel was beached on the Chapman Sands, her decks were cut into, and volumes of water were poured upon the flames. The fire was soon extinguished, and the damage was found to be much less than was feared. She floated on the tide and resumed her voyage under her own steam to Bristol. The fire was due to the ignition of the felt packing round the boilers. Owing to this adventure the Great Western did not sail from Bristol for New York quite as early as was expected, and it was this delay which enabled the Sirius to gain pride of place. The Great Western left for New York three days after the departure of the Sirius from Cork. Her average speed to New York was 208 knots per day, and she used 655 tons of coal on the voyage. Another account, published in 1840, says that of her 660 tons of coal only 452 were used when she reached New York. On her homeward voyage her speed was nearly 9 knots an hour as against the 8·2 knots outward, but she burnt only 392 tons of coal, the difference being accounted for by the fact that on the outward voyage she experienced very rough weather. Although she made a much faster passage than her little rival, it is but fair to remember that she was nearly twice her size, and with engines developing more than twice the horse-power.

A contemporary writer thus describes the Great Western: “The officers, crew, and engineers are about sixty in number. The saloon is 75 feet long, 21 feet broad, exclusive of recesses on each side, where the breadth is 34 feet and the height 9 feet. The decorations are in the highest degree tasteful and elegant, and the apartment may vie with those of the club-houses of London in luxury and magnificence. The splendour of a saloon is, however, a matter of very inferior consequence, and it is higher praise to state that the more essential parts of the vessel and all her machinery are examples of mechanical skill and ingenuity which cannot be surpassed.”

The saloon was decorated with about fifty panels, the larger ones, according to a contemporary description, representing “rural scenery, agriculture, music, the arts and sciences, interior views and landscapes, and parties grouped, or engaged in elegant sports and amusements; the smaller panels contained beautifully pencilled paintings of Cupid, Psyche, and other aerial figures.”[61] Every berth and cabin had a bell communicating with the stewards’ room, the method of communication being described as follows for the instruction of travellers: “When the attendance of the steward is required, the passenger pulls the bell-rope in his berth, which rings the bell in the small box (in the stewards’ room) and at the same time by means of a small lever forces up through a slit in the lid a small tin label with the number of the room painted requiring the services of the steward, and there remains, until the steward has ascertained the number of the room and pushed it down again. Thus, instead of an interminable number of bells there are only two. This arrangement, which is alike ingenious as it is useful, is deserving the notice of architects.”[62]