"While the boat lay at Gorky's repair shop at the point called the 'Gap,' a test was made of the efficiency of the apparatus provided for using the boat as a diving-bell, viz., a watertight hatch placed over a hatchway on the bottom, with valves leading from air-chambers, through which air under pressure was permitted to flow and fill the space occupied by the operators.
"When employing the boat as a diving-bell everything was closed tight and air was admitted to the central space until the external water pressure was exactly balanced, and when the lower hatch might be opened without any risk of water entering. The first man to make a test was Mr. George M. Richards, of Erie, Pennsylvania, my engineer. He sank the boat at high water while she lay at the dock. When she rested on the bottom he opened the test valves to make certain that the external water pressure was balanced by the internal air pressure, admitting an excess of water equal to his weight to hold her on the bottom. This operation did not consume more than a minute. He did not actually go out of the boat, but only dropped his feet on the bottom, passed his hands under the boat, one on either side, and lifted the boat slowly and with little exertion about one foot from the bottom. Had I provided the boat with a diver's outfit he could have gone out and come back again without trouble or risk. On July 3, 1883, we left the 'Gap' in Jersey City in order to do some diving in the deep water of the Narrows.
"The boat went out under its own power, unaccompanied by anybody save a small colored boy who had managed to drop on the turret when we were leaving the dock. The first intimation I had that we were carrying a passenger was shortly after we had passed Robbins's Reef Lighthouse. Then I found my view of Staten Island and Bay Ridge became obscured by what seemed to be a pair of brown rags hanging on either side of the turret and blocking the vision through the side lights. When we passed Robbins's Reef the water became a little rougher, so that the water passed up on the hull and washed over the turret. After the windows had been wet a few times I heard noises that plainly indicated that we were carrying an uninvited and unwelcome passenger. Fearing that the waves would wash him off, I headed the boat upstream, opened the hatch, and invited him to come inside, as I feared running through rough water with him on top. He politely refused my invitation, assuring me that he was 'puffectly safe' where he was, and that he would 'hold on like grim death.' This unfortunate circumstance spoiled my chances of diving in deep water that day, so we were compelled to abandon it. This interruption by the young colored gentleman wasted so much time that it was after sunset when we headed for the Bay Ridge shore, with which I was unfamiliar, to look for a landing place. Seeing through the twilight unmistakable signs that the shore was rocky, I ran the boat out about one hundred yards and then headed her up toward the Bay Ridge Ferry landing, with the intention of leaving her there until daylight the next morning. Before starting north we noticed two boys in a rowboat approaching us from the shore. We stopped until they came alongside and inquired: 'What is this thing?' They came on board and inspected her at our invitation, and expressed great astonishment at the strange boat they had picked up. But what was much more to the purpose was that when they found we had no particular landing place in view they very kindly offered us the hospitality of Mr. Vanderbilt Bergen's dock at Bay Ridge for as long as we wished to stay there for experiments. Then they took our 'painter' and towed us into his dock on the site of the present Crescent Yacht Club station. The two young gentlemen, Tunis Bergen and his cousin Harry Midgley, also contracted to take care of our material and help us out during our stay at their dock. What was of great importance to us was that we learned from Mr. Vanderbilt Bergen, Tunis's brother, that the place we had happened upon was by far the most suitable of any within miles for diving and experiments. We left the boat there over two months, making experiments to determine the value of our devices and to improve them wherever possible.
"Every time we went out we took two or more dives of various lengths, most of these quite across the Narrows, a little below Stapleton. During these dives I always made certain that there was no ship of twenty-five or thirty feet draught passing. Ordinarily we ran at a depth of not less than twenty feet, so that we could afford to ignore excursion steamers, fishing boats, and small yachts. The paddles of excursion steamers we could hear a long distance away, so that we never had any difficulty in avoiding them by changing our course or running at a greater depth until they had passed. We had a rather exciting experience on one occasion when we started to run submerged from Stapleton to Bay Ridge. At starting there was no large vessel in sight, but when about two hundred and fifty yards from shore I distinctly heard the paddle of a steamer. I instantly changed the vessel's course from directly across the Narrows, heading her upstream and running to twenty feet depth so as to eliminate any danger of a collision. Running along I listened for the sound of paddles, but could hear nothing, so I concluded that the steamer must have passed beyond the range of hearing or else had changed her course. Therefore I thought it would be safe to come within fifteen feet of the surface and listen again. I did so, and, hearing no sound, brought the turret above the surface to look around, but I could see no steamer. I then resumed my course back to Bay Ridge. On approaching Mr. Bergen's dock I saw three or four men jumping around and acting as if demented, so on landing I asked Bergen the cause of their hilarity. 'Oh,' he said, 'you frightened the d—— out of the St. Johns, the Long Branch steamer. You remember having come near the surface shortly after you started across and then diving? We didn't see you again until you rose three hundred yards out at this side.' I said that I remembered it. 'Well, when you went down that time your propeller shot a great mass of water out backward, just as big as, or bigger than, any whale could blow. The St. Johns was about two hundred yards astern of you, and she stopped instantly, not being able to tell what the trouble was ahead of her. After a while she started up and headed into the Staten Island shore, keeping on until I thought she would run ashore. She ported her helm and kept close along shore until she passed the Quarantine anchorage, then she headed straight for New York.'
"Experimental runs were made almost every day during the months of July and August, and continued until September, when we returned to the 'Gap' in Jersey City. During our experiments we were never without a considerable crowd of witnesses, sometimes numbering hundreds, especially in our runs from the 'Gap' up the Hudson and return. One morning in July a very patronizing gentleman, who announced himself as a reporter from the New York Sun, requested permission to go into the boat and examine it, but, much to his surprise, I was compelled to refuse him permission. The next morning there appeared in his paper a long report describing the performances of the Fenian Ram, a new name to which I had no objection excepting its incorrectness. Because public curiosity was aroused, the same Mr. Blakely Hall seldom missed reporting every run or experiment we made while at Bay Ridge. He explained to me that I was foolish in not wishing to advertise my invention, because the Government would certainly wish to acquire boats of the same type, as he could see by the newspaper reports that they were already preparing to build them in France.
"Shortly after our return to the 'Gap,' an amusing incident took place which is well worth recording. A number of friends and myself decided to take a trip up the Hudson. There were eight or ten in the party, and, as the submarine could accommodate only four, a small sloop was hired to carry the overflow. When we got under way, the submarine towing the sloop, we found the going rather hard, owing to cakes of ice floating down the river. When we were off Hoboken I slowed down to allow a steamer to cross our bow. This, of course, slackened the towline, with the result that when I got under way again said line fouled the propeller, held for a second, and then broke, sending the sloop adrift among the cakes of ice. The crew of the derelict bark shouted to attract my attention, but I had the hatch closed and could not hear them. I proceeded about a mile upstream from the point of the accident before I discovered that my tow was missing. I turned back and found my unfortunate mariners had been picked up by a passing boat and towed back to Jersey City.
"In November, 1883, while returning from a run through the Narrows, we dove to a depth of sixty feet, remained on the bottom for an hour, and came to the surface with no more trouble or inconvenience than if we dove only eight or ten feet. Shortly after this the Ram's career ended in a rather odd way. I have no intention of advancing any excuses for the incident, as no official explanation was ever made to me concerning it. As a result, I never bothered again with my backers nor they with me, but before recording the more solemn incident I would like to mention a rather amusing one that has just come to mind.
"One morning, on going down to board the boat, I was surprised to find no boat there. I was puzzled for a minute, but, on inquiry of the bystanders, I found that my engineer, Richards, had decided to take the boat out for a run by himself. He had proceeded down stream, but that was about all the witnesses could tell me. I therefore walked along the wharves until I came to a crowd of men standing on a pier and pointing out into the river. My attention was called to a point on the surface about two hundred yards off the pier head. There a great deal of air was coming to the surface in countless little bubbles. The man told me that the Irish Ram had just gone down there, owing to the fact that the conning tower was open when it passed close to a barge and tug. The wash from the tug passed over the little boat, flooded the hatch, and came near catching Richards below. He happened to be just below the hatch, however, and was blown out by the escaping air when the boat went down. He floundered around in the water for a few minutes and was finally picked up by the crew of the tug. A few minutes later Richards appeared, still a bit pale from his rather startling experience. It cost my backers about $3000 to raise the boat and put her in shape again.
"The final history of the boat is told in a few words. She was taken one night from her slip in the 'Gap' and towed to New Haven, Connecticut. During the trip she was in charge of Breslin, one of the trustees of the fund. I received no notice of the contemplated move then, nor was I notified after. I am told that when they arrived in New Haven they attempted to make dives, but handled the boat so awkwardly that the harbor master decided that she constituted a 'menace to navigation' and demanded a bond if any further trials were to be made. As a result she was hauled out of the water on the property of Reynolds, another member of the committee, and there she still is. There is also a rumor that they have tried to sell her to the Russian Government, but failed, as on investigation the prospective buyers found that title to her was not clear.
"After the Ram was taken from me, I had no means of experimenting further or building another boat. After a time I secured a position with the Pneumatic Gun Company as a draughtsman. While employed there I managed to interest some members of the company and some friends of theirs in a design that I had drawn immediately after the loss of the Ram. I allowed these men to examine my plans, and they, approving of them, set about to organize a company, known as the Nautilus Submarine Boat Company.