“On the deep is the mariner’s danger,
On the deep is the mariner’s death;
Who, to fear of the tempest a stranger,
Sees the last bubble burst of his breast?
’Tis the sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird,
Lone looker on despair;
The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird,
The only witness there!
“Who hovers on high o’er the lover,
And her who has clung to his neck?
Whose wing is the wing that can cover
With its shadow the foundering wreck?
’Tis the sea-bird, etc.
“My eye in the light of the billow,
My wing in the wake of the wave;
I shall take to my breast for a pillow
The shroud of the fair and the brave!
I’m the sea-bird, etc.
“My foot on the iceberg has lighted
When hoarse the wild winds veer about;
My eye, when the bark is benighted,
Sees the lamp in the light-house go out!
I’m the sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird,
Lone looker on despair;
The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird,
The only witness there!”
One word as to the Corsair’s nationality: Though not a historical fact, the legend, meagre as it is, is explicit enough in regard to his having been originally one of those bold Northmen who roamed the seas in the sixteenth century, though at the opening of the foregoing story he had his stronghold in some more salubrious climate than the North, probably on one of the Grecian Isles. But his early years were doubtless spent in quest of adventure in his native Norway seas. As in ages past, so even now the Norwegian youth who lives near the coast, takes to the sea, though in legitimate pursuits, as naturally as his Berserker ancestors. The Vikings of Norway were the boldest of all ancient mariners of a piratical character. They looked upon the sea as their home;—the tempest was their delight. The ship to them was as a living thing;—they guided it with a spirit as exulting and confident as a rider does his steed. “Blow where thou wilt, O wind,” they cried, “whithersoever thou takest us, the land is ours!”
As regards the obstructions in Hell Gate, we have gathered a few facts which may interest the reader. Though the sources are various, their authenticity may be relied on. The East River, of which Hell Gate forms a part, receives the tide at its two extremities; at the eastern extremity, the Sound tide; at the western, the Sandy Hook tide. The times as well as the heights of these tides are different. To make it still more difficult for the mariner, there are three channels existing at this historic place; that is, between the north point of Blackwell’s Island and Negro Point on Ward’s Island. The eastern channel is six hundred feet wide, and lies between the Astoria shore and the middle reef, parts of which were formerly known as the Indian Flood Rock, Chickens, and Negro Head; then we have the middle channel, between the middle reef and the reef containing Great and Little Mill Rocks, and finally the main ship channel, between the last reef and the New York shore. Formerly, vessels bound eastward on the flood, taking the eastern channel, in the endeavor to get around the reef at Hallet’s Point, ran the risk of being carried upon the Frying Pan, near Ward’s Island, while vessels bound westward on the ebb, were thrown so much off by the reef at Hallet’s Point as to be endangered by the set of the tide directly upon the middle reef. It was obvious, therefore, that the reef at Hallet’s Point and the middle reef constituted the chief obstacles to the safe passage of ships and other craft.
Besides these great barriers, many smaller rocks contributed to increase the dangers awaiting the hapless mariner who boldly sought the waters of the Sound at unpropitious times of tide and weather. More dangerous because hidden, we give the names of a few of these formidable obstructions: Pot Rock, situated in mid channel between Ward’s Island and the Astoria shore, was a pyramidal rock, the depth over it being about eighteen feet. Frying Pan had a depth of nine feet over it. Way’s Reef and Shelldrake, situated in Pot Cove, had depths of water of five and eight feet respectively. In the main channel there were two great obstructions—the Heel Tap Rocks, north of Great Mill Rock, and Rylander Reef, on the New York shore, near 92d street.
Old Dutch chronicles inform us that the unwieldy vessels from the fatherland were sometimes drawn into the vortex of that tremendous whirlpool called the Pot, where they were whirled about in giddy mazes until the senses of their commanders and crews were overpowered by the horror of the scene, and the strangeness of the revolution.
Certain it is, that to the horrific accounts of Dutch navigators may be traced some of the various traditions handed down of this marvellous Strait. It is also true that these ancient mariners gave this pass the name of Helle-gat, or as it has been interpreted, Hell Gate.
For nearly half a century men have been blasting away at the jagged reefs which jut out into the narrow channels which connect Long Island Sound with the Bay of New York. For centuries ships have struck on these same rocks. The average, in years lately passed, has been nearly one vessel a week. Though many of the obstructions were cleared out by the great explosion, planned and executed by Gen. John Newton, U.S.A., some ten years ago, yet the dangerous character of the strait remained. At last, the Government decided to tunnel underneath the middle reef (Flood Rock)—and at one tremendous explosion blow everything skyward. For nearly a decade men worked night and day to accomplish that end. The quantity of dynamite and powder used in charging the mine is said to have been 275,000 pounds.