Visit to Sackets Harbor in 1873

 

Image from History of Jefferson County by Samuel W. Durant and Henry B. Pierce. Published by L. H. Everts & Co., Philadelphia, Pa., 1878

Cape Vincent Eagle

July 24, 1873

What May be Seen at Sackets Harbor

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   Sackets Harbor is better known to the world at large for what it was than for it is. During the war of 1813 it was both military and naval head-quarters for operations on the northern frontier and Lake Ontario. Sensible of its importance, the British twice attacked it, and once nearly succeeded in capturing it before they were beaten off. The ruins of the fortifications thrown up at that time, are not yet wholly obliterated. The “oldest inhabitant,” who is a numerous individual, can still point out the bloodiest spots in the fight. In all the region round you will find those who remember hearing the sound of the cannon on one of those eventful days.

   Authentic history relates that upon that particularly day, owing to a peculiar facility in the air for the transmission of sound, the guns were heard as far even as Boonville, Oneida county, a distance of sixty miles. 

   For the accommodation of the army, and the military station which has always been maintained there, the Madison Barracks were erected in 1816. The principal buildings are three long, stone dormitories, enclosing a parade ground beautifully graded and kept with true military neatness, which is open on the fourth side to the cool breezes of the bay and the pleasant vista of the opposite shore. There is room here for several thousand soldiers, but the present garrison is only two companies, under Gen. Ayres. This is a delightful spot in summer, in winter - “your deponent saith - not.

   The Navy Yard remains intact, but unoccupied, save by a single sailor as watchman. This individual - an old “salt,” and a chatty, agreeable fellow - told us the following about Com. Tatnall, the last commandant:

   “Tatnall was one of the old navy men, and a splendid officer, too, sir. But he was a Georgian, you know, sir, and when the rebellion began he had a hard time of it to decide which way to go. Toombs and those fellows kept writing to him every day or two, urging him to join them. Day after day I have seen him facing his sailors yonder, sir, seemingly in the greatest distress. Probably the United States government would never has asked him to fight the South, and he could have stayed here quiet.  His daughter, too, begged him not to go. But those fellows urged so hard that he finally went. Yet I honestly believe the was always sorry, and that in his soul he was a Union man, sir.”

   The principal object of interest about the Navy Yard is the Ship House and its contents. Under its cover stands the unfinished line of battle ship New Orleans, which is remarkable both for its great size and the story of its origin.

   You enter the building on the level of the ground, and find yourself immediately under the bow of the monster. You are obliged to strain your neck and eyes looking up into the gloomy fifty set or more to see the rail of the deck.  You gaze with profound emotion at the gigantic mass and the gigantic proportions of every part - the solid oaken keep eighteen inches thick, the stalwart stem and the equally stalwart stern-post; the six-inch planking, and the great bolts which fasten to the frame.

   Ascending by a staircase of several flights you each the level of the deck. A few planks are laid for you to walk on, but otherwise the whole vast interior is open and is broken only by the huge 15 inch pine beams which cross the hull at frequent intervals. Another staircase take you down into the ship, when you see the beams above you instead of below. It is hard to realize how great the vessel is.

   The watchman informs you that she is 187 feet keel, 212 feet over all, 565 feet wide, 27 feet draft, 3,500 tons burden, and requires 1,400 men for a crew. It is not a difficult task for imagination to people the silent spaces with those 1,400 men; to station at each of those long ranks of dark port-holes a threatening dog of war, and to see the hostile missives crashing this cedar and oaken ribs, carrying destruction and death in their path.

   But how came they to build such a vessel and leave her in such an unfinished condition? At the time of the War of 1812, it became all important to both parties to get control of Lake Ontario. So they set themselves to building, as fast as possible, ships fo war. They kept increasing the size with each successive vessel. The British had two “liners” building at Kingston.

   So our people began two a little larger, of which this was one. The other was named the Chippewa, and was broken up a year ago. Henry Eckford was master builder then, and he promised to have them ready for action in sixty days. The timber was then growing in the forest. They had been at work on this one twenty-eight days, and had brought her to her present stage of completion, with every prospect of having her ready within sixty days, when suddenly news came in of the declaration of peace. Since then not a hammer has been lifted upon her.

   Since then the government has kept her, thinking that she might be wanted. But she would be of no use now, in these modern ways of fighting with steamers and iron-clads. Besides, age tells on her frame. “Rotteness is in her bones.” She will never be “the bride of the gray old sea,” who has been waiting so long for her coming. She is kept as a venerable relic whom anyone hates to touch.