“Oh, sir, the boat has broken in pieces and gone to the bottom of the river!”
Fulton arose in dismay, hastily dressed, and rushed to the scene. The news was all too true! The boat, too weak in structure to bear the heavy machinery, buffeted by the high waves and heavy winds, had broken in the middle, depositing the valuable engine and other machinery in the river. Nothing was in sight above the water!
Fulton later confessed to a dismay never felt at any other time. Many a man, at this point, would have given up the whole project in despair. But this crisis of apparent failure was the moment for Fulton’s strength of character to assert itself. After months of labor the borrowed engine and Mr. Livingston’s money seemed forever lost. But Fulton set himself to the task of making the best of this disappointment. He wasted not a moment in vain regret, but without going back to his home for breakfast, he began, with his own hands, to try and rescue the boat. For twenty-four hours he worked, without food or rest, until—wet and weary but triumphant—he recovered the machinery and engine. They were found to be little hurt, although the boat itself was a total wreck. But, alas, Fulton paid a heavy penalty for over-taxing his strength; for a permanent weakness of the lungs, from which he never fully recovered, resulted from the exposure and long struggle in the water to save his precious invention. At no moment in his life did he display such fine courage as at this time of apparent failure.
Fulton immediately began to build another boat, in which he placed the recovered machinery. By the month of July he was again ready to show his friends and the French scientists the working-power of his invention.
Mr. Fulner Skipwith was then our Consul-General in Paris. He was interested in the idea of steam navigation, and during the preceding year had sent a letter of inquiry regarding it to Robert Fulton, who gladly answered his questions. Mr. Skipwith had married in Paris, while Fulton was busy with his torpedo experiments on the French coast, and the Consul-General’s first child was born during the spring of 1803. This accounts for the merry letter of invitation which Fulton sent him on July 24th.
Mr. Skipwith;
My dear Friend,
You have experienced all the anxiety of a fond father on a child’s coming into the world. So have I. Your little cherub, now plump as a partridge, advances to the perfection of her nature and each day presents some new charm. I wish mine may do the same. Some weeks hence, when you will be sitting in one corner of the room and Mrs. Skipwith in the other learning the little creature to walk, the first unsteady step will scarcely balance the tottering frame; but you will have the pleasing perspective of seeing it grow to a steady walk and then to dancing. I wish mine may do the same. My “boy,” who is all bones and corners, just like his daddy and whose birth has given me much uneasiness, or rather, anxiety,—is just learning to walk and I hope in time he will be an active runner. I therefore have the honour to invite you and the ladies to see his first movements on Monday next from 6 till 9 in the evening between the Barriere des Bons Hommes and the steam-engine. May our children, my friend, be an honour to their country and a comfort to the grey hairs of their doting parents.
Yours,