The CORONA leaving N. N. Co. Dock at Toronto. [page 178]
Immediately on the season closing in October, 1886 the steamer was put into Muir's dry dock at Port Dalhousie and every atom of lining in her hull removed so that the plates could be seen from the inside as well as from the outside. The Government hull inspector, and W. White of Montreal, shipbuilder, were brought over to make the inspection. From the beginning and throughout as well as assisting in traffic matters the charge of the hulls and engines had been my particular care. Led by Webster, the chief engineer of Chicora, we entered the hull. Webster was a quiet sort of fellow, sometimes nervous and at times excitable, perhaps a bit over-intense in his work. He was lean and with a loose waistcoat. It has been said by some that a steamboat engineer, to be successful, should have a decent sized stomach to help steady him through the changing conditions in his running days. The suggestion is well founded.
We went under deck. Webster was striking somewhat lightly on a plate which showed some signs of inner scale when White broke out at him. "Mon ar' ye feart o' goin' through? Gie ma t-hammer." Whereupon he rained his forceful blows upon the plate with such vigor as to make the din ring. "Hoot," said he as he stopped, "I'd 'a got through gin 'a could, but 'a couldn't."
At the end of the afternoon the inspecting party came out. "Well, White," was asked, "what's the verdict?"
Wiping the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt he answered: "Wull, ye may tell Mr. Smith that when he, and I, and you are 'a in our graves Chicora will still be runnin' gin ye keep her off the rocks."
We therefore accepted the position set out by the railway companies and undertook to build a new steamer to be ready for the season of '88, and run the risk of profit on the investment while waiting for more traffic to grow up. We determined that speed was the essential requisite. First to perform the service with ease and regularity. Second to meet any competition which might afterwards arise.
There were then in Canada no builders of fast marine engines of the size we required. These were only to be found on the Clyde, so Mr. John Foy and I sailed the next week on the Lahn of the North German Lloyd for Southampton.
We inspected the principal day boats on the lower Thames, and English Channel, making notes and enquiries. Thence to Liverpool for Isle of Man steamers. Here we called on the head office of "Lairds," the builders of the Chicora, and made enquiries of her from the manager. "Chicora: Chicora, I don't remember any steamer of that name—Ah: did you say the Let Her B? Yes, she was the best ship of her class we ever built. There she is," and raising his hand he pointed to the model of the Let Her B, still hanging on the wall. He said they had built several steamers for service in blockade running into the ports of the Confederate States during the American Civil War. Three of these were named Let Her Go, Let Her Rip, Let Her B. Of all the steamers which they had built the last named and the last turned out was the most successful. Fast, seaworthy, of a model which was a thing of beauty, she had not been surpassed. He was quite enthusiastic about her and added "She had a stronger frame than usual, so that she would be worth replating should it ever be desirable.[4]" He gave us every attention and much information and for the requirements which we detailed to him, advised us to go to the Clyde, giving us letters to some of the best yards there.
In travelling one makes strange acquaintances. On the day express between Liverpool and Glasgow when we were running at high speed down the grades into Carlisle and the carriage was banging from side to side a gentleman, the only other occupant with us, who had never said a word since we started suddenly broke into speech, at the same time throwing his feet up on the seat opposite to him. "Pit yer legs up! Quick!" The necessity for doing this he explained by adding "Gin we leave the line yer legs might be cut off by the seats comin' tegither." A good laugh at his fears and earnestness dispelled the silence which had previously reigned. He was a Scotch shipowner, and finding we were in the same line became communicative.