"Fee at the treasury on receiving permission to ship the engine to America, £2 14s 6d."
Fulton had no little trouble in raising the money for his boat. Livingston contributed the larger share, while Joel Barlow and David Dunham gave the next larger shares. The remainder of the sum was collected among personal friends by personal solicitation, and that was work that tried the soul of the man. The fact that the engine lay on the pier where it was landed for a period of six months because Fulton could not raise the money to pay the freight is significant.
By courtesy of American Industries
The new ship was named Clermont, the name of Livingston's home on the Hudson. At noon on Monday, August 17, 1807, she was lying near the old State prison which stood on land now bounded by Washington, West Tenth, West and Charles streets, and thousands of people gathered to gaze at the remarkable vessel because it had been announced that she was to make a trial trip some time during the day. They observed that Brown, the builder, was working at some sails stretched to a mast standing at each end of the hull, although the sails were not set. A man named Maxwell (he had been brought from the shop of the London makers) was tinkering around the boiler—stopping leaks with melted lead, very likely, as he did, at any rate, later. Another man, Van Lea, was adjusting what is called a harpoon gun in the records. Harpoon guns, as the American whalers know them, were not yet invented, but swivels had previously been used for throwing harpoons, and this was, perhaps, such a gun. What it was to be used for is not recorded. The spectators were naturally cynical, and the humorists of the class that in modern days write the jokes for newspapers, shouted to Fulton: "God help you, Bobby!" "Bring us back a chip of the north pole!" "A fool and his money are soon parted!" The small boys whistled, and also yowled like cats. Fulton's correspondence shows that his sensitive soul was cut to the quick.
At 1 o'clock, as the start was described by the Evening Post, everything seemed ready, and Fulton told Captain Moses Rogers[[6]] to cast off the lines. The order was given to the engineer, Stevens Rogers, a relative of the captain, to start the machinery. A long blast was blown on a big tin horn as a warning to near-by boats, and then there was a "strange creaking, whirring, churning sound, a hiss of the escaping steam; the awkward-looking wheels, towering full seven feet above the deck on either side, began to turn, and we were really started on the first steamboat voyage on the Hudson." The next moment, however, the spectators saw the machine come to a sudden stop, and, supposing it had failed, they gave a derisive shout. The captain of a passing river-sailing packet sheered his boat close in to the pier line, and "made a sarcastic offer" to "throw us a line and tow us to Albany."
Perhaps the jeering at this time did not hurt Fulton so much as that previously mentioned, for he had ordered the engine stopped in order to readjust the boards or floats on the paddle-wheels. He had noted that they dipped too far into the water. An hour or more passed while the crew did this work. When it was done and the throttle was again opened, there was less strain on the machinery, and the Clermont moved smoothly away from the landing.
"The jeers of the ignorant, who had neither sense nor feeling enough to suppress their contemptuous ridicule and rude jokes, were silenced for a moment by a vulgar astonishment which deprived them of the power of utterance till the triumph of genius extorted from the incredulous multitude which crowded the shores shouts and acclamations of congratulation and applause." (Colden's Life of Robert Fulton.)
Heading across to the west side of the river to escape the main current of the tide, the Clermont passed the sloop whose captain had jeered her (the passengers on the Clermont yelled ecstatically at him when they saw his look of wonder), and then steamed along under the shadows of the Palisades. Night came on as she entered the Tappan Zee, and because it was a dark night the crews of a number of river-sloops saw a vision that they remembered vividly the remainder of their lives. For while they gazed down the river, knowing nothing of an experiment in steam navigation, they saw far away through the darkness the flame and sparks that poured from the smokestack of the Clermont—a cloud of fire moving along between heaven and earth like that which had guided the Children of Israel in the desert. Then, as it drew near, a hoarse growling was heard and a frightful form was seen coming up the river directly against the tide. In abject terror many crews jumped into small boats and fled ashore. Others sought shelter in the holds of their boats and drew the hatches tight, while others still fell upon their knees "and besought Providence to protect them from the horrible monster."