Finally, on September 16, 1888, Percy again risked his life in making a voyage through the waters of the Gorge near Lewiston. In this trip he narrowly escaped death and the boat was lost.
Elated by his success, Percy now made a wager with Robert William Flack of Syracuse, "for a race through the Whirlpools in life-boats for five hundred dollars a side." The race was set for August 1, 1888, but on July 4th, Flack was first to show that his craft was seaworthy. The boat was of the clinker pattern, had no air-cushions, and was partly constructed of cork. In the presence of an immense concourse of spectators it went first along gaily, but in three minutes the boat was upset and carried into the Whirlpool bottom upwards. It was a frightful spectacle, witnessed by thousands of people. The boat capsized three times; the last time it tossed high in the air. It stood on end for an instant and then it toppled over on poor Flack, who was strapped to the boat helpless and floated about the pool upside down for about an hour, until captured on the Canadian side. Flack's body was only a mass of bruised flesh. Percy meantime, having witnessed the tragedy from the American side, jumped into a trap, and drove to the Whirlpool on the Canadian side where, throwing off his clothes, he leaped into the river and swam for the boat which was now approaching the shore. But he was too late. His courageous feat could not help Flack, who was found dead, hanging on the straps he had placed there to aid him to save his life.
In 1889 Walter G. Campbell tried to make the perilous trip in an open, flat-bottomed boat, which he launched above the Rapids. His only companion was a black dog. Campbell, with a life-preserver about his body, stood up, using his oar as a paddle, and boldly drifted with increasing speed toward the seething pool. The trip took about twenty minutes, but, fortunately, the boat capsized before the worst water was reached, and Campbell just managed to struggle to the shore. The poor black dog paid the penalty of his master's folly.
Peter Nissen, of Chicago, made a successful trip through the Whirlpool Rapids of Niagara on July 9, 1900, being the first man to go through in an open boat and come out unharmed. He entered the Rapids at 5 P.M., the boat gliding down easily bow first, entering the first wave end on, and going partly over and partly under the water, drenched its occupant completely. The second wave struck him with terrific force almost broadside, the boat being partly turned by the first wave, smashing Nissen against the cockpit, knocking off his hat and nearly smothering him. A moment later he entered the frightful mass of warring waters opposite the Whirlpool Rapids station, and for a few moments it looked as though his end had come, the boat being tossed with terrific force out of the water, broadside up, the iron keel, weighing 1250 pounds, being plainly seen. Boat and occupant then disappeared altogether, not being again seen for several seconds until the worst was feared. Suddenly both man and boat reappeared farther down the stream, and the hundreds of onlookers gave vent to their feelings in cheers. The hardy navigator now went under the waters again receiving a crushing blow as he entered every succeeding wave when the staunch craft and its master raced into the Whirlpool. But Nissen was not yet safe. Having no means of guiding or propelling the boat, Nissen was compelled to sit in the water in the cockpit for fifty minutes, being carried around the Whirlpool four times. Once the boat approached the vortex and was sucked down about half its length, the other half standing out of the water in an almost vertical position. It was immediately thrown out, however, and resumed its course around the pool. When at the farther end, where the current has the least strength the boat then being about fifty feet from shore, three young men swam out with a rope and fastened it to the boat, which was then drawn in by very willing hands. Nissen, when questioned, said he was not injured in the least, only feeling cold and weak. He was stripped and given dry clothing, and he then declared he felt all right. In making the trip he wore his usual clothing, pulling on an ordinary life-preserver to aid him if he should be thrown out. He did not intend to fasten himself in the boat, but at the last moment passed a rope over his shoulder, which probably saved his life.
The boat, which he had named the Fool-Killer, was twenty feet long, four feet wide, and four feet deep. The deck was slightly raised in the centre, gently sloping to the gunwales. In the centre of the deck a cockpit four feet long and twenty inches wide extended down to the keel, a distance of four feet. The side-planking of the cockpit was carried above the deck, forming a combing six inches in height; six water-tight compartments were built in the boat, two at each end and one on each side of the cockpit; three hundred pounds of cork were also used, so that the boat was unsinkable. The main feature of the boat was the keel. This was a shaft of round iron, four inches in diameter and twenty feet long, hanging two feet below the bottom of the boat, and held in position by five one-inch iron bars.
Our record of sensationalism at Niagara would be lacking in fulness, at least, if mention were not made of the many gruesome suicides that have occurred here, but we forbear. A story of what a dog endured, however, is quite in place:
A large dog lately survived the passage over Niagara Falls and through the rapids to the whirlpool. He was first noticed while he was within the influence of the upper rapids. As he was whirled rapidly down over the Falls, every one imagined that that was the last of him. Shortly afterwards, however, he was discovered in the gorge below the Falls vainly endeavouring to clamber up upon some of the debris from the remains of the great ice bridge which recently covered the water at this point, but which had nearly all gone down the river. The news spread rapidly through the village, and a large crowd gathered at the shore. Strenuous efforts were made to get the struggling animal on shore, for an animal which had gone safely over the Falls would be a prize worth having, but without success. Finally the dog succeeded in getting upon a large cake of ice, and floated off upon it down towards Suspension Bridge and the terrible Whirlpool Rapids. Information of the dog's coming was telephoned to Suspension Bridge village, and a large crowd collected on the bridge to watch for the coming wonder. In due time the poor fellow appeared upon his ice-cake, howling dismally the while, as if he appreciated the terrors of his situation. An express-train crossing the bridge at the time stopped in order to let the passengers witness the unusual spectacle. Round and round whirled the cake, in a dizzy way, and louder and more prolonged grew the howls of the poor dog. As the influence of the Whirlpool Rapids began to be felt, the cake increased in speed, whirled suddenly into the air, broke in two, and the dog disappeared from view. No one thought that he could possibly survive the wild rush through the rapids. When, therefore, word was received that the dog was in the whirlpool, still living, and once more struggling vainly to swim to land, it was received with marked incredulity. This story was substantiated by several trustworthy witnesses. It seems incredible that an animal could go through the upper rapids, over the Falls, through the Gorge, through the Whirlpool Rapids, and into the whirlpool itself, a distance of several miles, and still be alive. The poor animal perished in the whirlpool.
In various instances dogs have been sent over the Falls and survived the plunge.
As early as November, 1836, a troublesome female bull-terrier was put in a coffee sack by a couple of men who had determined to get rid of her, and thrown off from the middle of Goat Island Bridge. In the following spring she was found alive and well about sixty rods below the Ferry, having lived through the winter on a deceased cow that was thrown over the bank the previous fall. In 1858, another dog, a male of the same breed, was thrown into the Rapids, also near the middle of the bridge. In less than an hour he came up the Ferry stairs, very wet and not at all gay. He was ever after a sadder, if not a better dog.