• •
. And Her Survivors sail the goods to the entrance of the canal at the bustling 19th century port of Whitehall, New York, where the lake was frequently choked with boats waiting to enter the first lock. Here, the centerboard was raised, the masts lowered, and the boat moved into the canal , avoiding the damage and delay of transferring cargo from lake to canal carriers. If the cargo was destined fora Hudson River port, the boat humbly followed a team of mules down the length of the Champlain Canal. On reaching the Hudson River, the sailing can a lier would restep his masts and lower the centerboard and, free again, sail downriver to his destination or join a steamboat tow .
* * * * *
Truly, the opening of the Champlain Canal in 1823 revolutionized life in and around Lake Champlain. Products from northern New York and Vermont-iron ore, marble, lumber, foodstuffs-could be transported sw iftly, easily and profitably to New York City, and from there to the far comers of the world. On the return trip the canallers brought back coal and manufactured goods. Although clumsy and boxy, the graceless canal boats dominated commercial maritime activity on Lake Champlain for about half a century. Certainly the most attractive of these "ugly ducklings" were the canal schooners. Their hulls more rounded to allow navigation on the open waters of the lake, their great sails puffed out, they gracefully glided up and down the lake looking for all the world like enormous swans. Ultimately, in the second half of the 19th century the ubiquitous canal boats began to slowly disappear as the railroads made their appearance. Today the clumsy wooden canal boats have passed into hi story, replaced by colorful fleets of 20th century recreational craft. Fortunately for us though, the untimely demi se of the General Butler left us a tangible record of this ebullient period in American history. Truly an underwater "museum," the Butler is an historical resource which should last indefinitely in its underwater environment and continue to give us fresh insights into our maritime past.
Mr. Saxe, a WWII navy veteran and retired IBM executive, is a writer and multimediaproducerandhas extensively cruised the inland waters of the eastern United States. SEA HISTORY 52, WINTER 1989-90
by Arthur B. Cohn
DRAWI NG BY KEVIN C RISMAN
Outside the Burlington breakwater, a small man with a dark beard was struggling feverishly at the stem of the ship while frequently looking ahead to see where the injured vessel was heading. It was midday in the month of December, and the lake was engulfed in a severe early winter gale, the kind that sailors talk about for years. The 14-year-old vessel had been declared uninsurable the previous year, yet it carried a heavy load of marble blocks for the Burlington marble company. Through the bitter cold and winddriven snow , James Wakefield, a Burlington ship chandler and former British seaman, watched from the shore and could see the vessel with its people huddled on deck. It was clear that something would have to be done, and though the harbor was lined with people watching the unfolding drama, none moved to lend assistance. Wakefield and his young son, Jack, commandeered the fourteen-foot Burlington Lighthouse rowboat and began to pull in the direction of the breakwater where it looked like the vessel might strike. The vessel's steering gear was broken , and the captain had dropped anchor to hold his vessel as he attempted to jury-rig a tiller bar. But now he had cut the anchor, and the vessel drifted toward the southern end of the breakwater. For a moment, it looked like the captain might succeed in rounding the barrier to safety.But the force of the storm was too great and the vessel too badly damaged, and it was soon clear that the boat would collide with the breakwater. The waves were so high that they lifted the vessel above the breakwater and dropped it on top of the rough-cut marble stones. The boat then slipped back into the wave's trough until the next crest lifted it once again to crash onto the breakwater. There were five people aboard; the
captain and a sailor to handle the boat, an injured man being transported to the hospital, and two teenage girls, one of whom was the captain's daughter. Each time the vessel was lifted on top of the breakwater, one of the people would make the precarious jump to the icecovered stones. The injured man, the owner of a marble quarry on Isle LaMotte, struck his head upon landing and was knocked unconscious. After seeing the other people safely onto the breakwater, it was now the captain's tum to abandon the doomed schooner. Its bow had struck the breakwater many times already , but once again it crashed down and the captain jumped off. Witnesses say the vessel remained visible not even three seconds longer, then slipped back into the waves and sank. The five survivors were now in danger of freezing to death. Each new wave crashed over them, drenching them again and again . To have come this far and be stranded on the man-made breakwater within a thousand feet of safe land must have tested their beliefs. Then , as iftheir prayers were answered, James Wakefield and his son appeared in the rowboat. They quickly moved the freezing people into the boat and rowed them to the harbor. They were taken to the warm offices of a doctor who shortly pronounced them all out of danger. "It was Miss Montgomery 's first trip on her father 's boat," he reported, "but she showed a goodly degree of Yankee grit, forthe first question she asked on returning to consciousness was that she might be allowed to make the return trip when the schooner should be raised." .t
Mr. Cohn is Vice-Chairman of the Lake Champlain Maritime Museum, Box 746, Burlington, Vermont. The above was adapted from A Report on the Nautical Archaeology of Lake Champlain, 1983, published by the museum.
13