On September 2d, Fulton advertised in the _New York Evening Post_ as follows: “The North River Steam Boat Will leave Pauler’s Hook on Friday, the 4th of September, at 6 in the morning, and arrive at Albany, on Saturday, at 6 in the afternoon. Provisions, good berths, and accommodations are provided.”
An announcement of rates followed; three dollars to Newburgh, and seven to Albany, with suitable prices for intermediate stations; the rate of travel was fourteen hours to Newburgh and thirty-six to Albany. It was stated that the boat would leave Albany twice and New York once during the succeeding week, after which further schedules would be published.
This time-table was duly carried out; bright and early, at half past six, on a clear September morning, the fourteen passengers brave enough to venture started on their northward trip. When they arrived, they found Fulton already on board, his actions confident and decided, unheeding the fear of some and the sarcasm of others. His clear tones could be heard above the hum of the voices of the multitude—which had gathered to watch the departure—and the noise made by the escaping steam which leaked from several valves. So we learn from Judge John Q. Wilson, of Albany, one of the fourteen who dared to make the voyage though warned by a prudent Quaker friend: “Wilt thou risk thy life in such a concern? I tell thee she is the most fearful wild fowl living and thy father ought to restrain thee.”
But though a predicted failure, the voyage proved so pleasant an experience that the passengers drew up a statement to record their satisfaction. Gerrit H. Van Wagenen served as timekeeper and Judge Wilson drafted the testimonial which, signed by the entire company, was published in the _Albany Register_ of September 8th.
From Verplanck’s Point to Wappinger’s Creek the wind was favorable but light: after that it was ahead or calm, yet they made the full distance of 150 miles in 28 hours and 45 minutes. Judge Wilson wrote: “The subscribers, passengers on board of this boat on her first passage as a packet, think it but justice to state that the accommodations and conveniences on board exceeded their most sanguine expectations.”
They had an amusing experience at Haverstraw Bay. As the boat steamed along, a man in a skiff lay in wait. His appearance showed him to be a miller, for his hair and clothing were covered with flour. He had evidently dashed forth from his mill on the riverside when he saw the queer boat approaching, had boarded his skiff and rowed out into the stream for a conversation with the captain. He signaled that he would like to come on board, so Fulton ordered that a rope be thrown him to draw his skiff alongside the _Clermont_. He called out that he “did not know a mill could go up-stream, so he came to enquire about it.” One of the passengers, Dennis Doyle, an Irishman who loved a good joke, offered to guide him all over “the mill.” The miller climbed on board, and Dennis showed him all the wheels and machinery and told him in fun that by a simple contrivance one wheel could be thrown out of gear when the mill was to go up-stream. “But show me the grindstones,” said the miller. Dennis kept a straight face and pointing to Fulton answered, “That is a secret which the master has not yet told us: when we come back from Albany with our load of corn, if you come on board then, you will see the meal fly.” The simple-minded miller rowed back to the shore, wondering whether he could really move his own mill up-stream in the same fashion.