We Were There at the Opening of the Erie Canal (The USA Back Then Series - Book 1): The USA Back Then Series, #1

By Janice Schmidt and Enid LaMonte Meadowcroft

Chris Martin ducked through the waiting crowd to peer down into Lockport's Deep Cut, that fateful autumn evening in 1825. Then in the silence came the sound of Lake Erie waters lapping through the cut to fill the last stretch of the Erie Canal!

 

Cannon boomed, people cheered, and Chris grinned with pride. The canal was finished, and he had been a part of it! Chris thought of the boats on which he had worked his way from Albany to Lockport - the packet Fast and Fair, the freighter Honest Lad, and the Polly Ann. Then he had pitched in to help dig the last link in the canal that was to span the breadth of New York State, from Albany to Buffalo.

 

The year before, Chris, his twin sister Kathy, and their two younger brothers had come to live with their great-aunt Jane. But the Martins' welcome in the bustling Hudson River town had soon been marred by the loss of two fifty-dollar notes. Pat O'Malley, the town bully, had found them. Then both he and the purse disappeared. And so Chris had set out for the west, following the canal in search of Pat.

 

Those were exciting days, and two startling adventures still awaited Chris before he would be reunited with his family when the triumphant eastbound Seneca Chief reached the Albany basin, bringing Lake Erie water to mingle with the Hudson River.

 

This USA Back Then book is an exciting story about the building of the Erie Canal in 1825. It is based on true historic events, and it provides an entertaining way to learn more about the amazing history of the United States of America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Storyhour Publishing
• Release date: Sep 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215997772

Book preview

I. A Stormy Welcome

A RAW OCTOBER WIND blew over the steamship dock in Albany, nearly sweeping Christopher Martin’s new hat into the Hudson River. Holding the hat tightly to his head, Chris looked anxiously toward the street.

I don’t believe Aunt Jane’s ever coming, Kathy, he said to his sister, who stood beside him. Father told us she’d be waiting for us when we got off the boat, but we’ve been here long enough for me to grow a beard.

At the thought of her thirteen-year-old twin with a beard, Kathy couldn’t help smiling. Yet at the same time she wished with all her heart that she were safe at home in New York instead of waiting in a strange city for a great-aunt she had never seen.

Glancing over her shoulder, she looked across the dock to see what her two younger brothers were doing. They were watching a boatman polish the railing of the paddle-wheel steamer, James Kent, which was moored to the pier.

Perhaps Aunt Jane got the days mixed up, Kathy said, turning back to Chris. Or maybe she didn’t get Father’s last letter. Anyway, it’s going to rain soon, and it’s getting dark, Chris. What do you think we’d better do?

Chris eyed the sky, which was black and forbidding. Once more he looked in the direction of the city. Smoke curled from the chimneys of the houses and shops which covered the side of a steep hill. Pigeons, buffeted by the wind, were fluttering above the many warehouses along the river.

On piers and wharfs at the river’s edge, men were hastily loading or unloading sloops, moving piles of lumber, heavy sacks of wheat, boxes, bales, and big baskets of coal. Two bronzed sailors were walking along the steamship dock. But nowhere was there any sign of Aunt Jane.

Sticking his hands into the pockets of his gray pantaloons, Chris began to whistle softly, just to prove to himself that he wasn’t worried. Suddenly he asked, What’s the name of the street where the old lady lives?

North Pearl, Kathy replied, clutching her blue velvet bonnet as another gust of wind swept over the dock. And don’t call Aunt Jane an old lady.

Father did, Chris answered with a little grin. Then he grew serious. Listen, Kathy, he said, you stay with the boys and the trunk and the bags, and I’ll find someone who can take us to Aunt Jane’s house. Don’t fret now. I’ll be back in a jiffy.

He started toward the street. Kathy hurried after him and caught his arm.

Is the money safe? she asked under her breath.

Chris nodded as his hand closed over the purse in his pantaloons pocket. It contained two fifty-dollar bills which his father had told him to give to Aunt Jane, and some silver coins of his own.

Couldn’t be safer, he boasted. You’d better keep an eye on the boys.

Kathy turned around quickly. With a little cry of dismay she ran to the end of the dock, her long blue cloak and her copper-colored braids flying behind her.

Nine-year-old Danny was still watching the boatman. But Peter, who was not quite six, was hanging on to a mooring post and leaning far out over the water. Grabbing him by the edge of his short green coat, Kathy pulled him back and gave him a little shake.

Peter, she scolded, I’ve told you three times to keep away from the edge of the wharf. Come right over here now and sit down on the trunk beside me.

I was just looking at a big fish, Peter protested.

Well, come along anyway, Kathy told him, and, catching him by the hand, she led him to their round-topped leather trunk.

Danny tagged along, too, and all three of them sat down. For a moment no one spoke. Then Danny asked, Where did Chris go, Kathy? I’m getting tired of waiting for that old Aunt Jane. And I’m hungry enough to eat a whale.

Me, too, Peter agreed, kicking his heels against the trunk. Will Father eat whales in England, Kathy?

Of course not, Kathy replied, glancing anxiously at the sky. People don’t eat whales in England any more than they do here in New York State. And Father will be too busy in London even to think about whales. He’s going to learn to be the very best doctor in all the world.

Kathy sighed, remembering the unhappy day when Dr. Martin had told his motherless children that he must leave them for a year. He said he had decided to go abroad to study with a great surgeon in London.

And while I am away, he had added, you four will stay in Albany with my old Aunt Jane, who looked after me when I was a boy.

Now Dr. Martin was aboard a big sailing ship on his way to England, and his children were in Albany.

But where was Aunt Jane? And where, for that matter, was Chris?

Glancing toward the street again, Kathy gave a little sigh of relief and slid from the trunk. For an old cart had just rattled onto the dock, and Chris, looking very much pleased with himself, was seated beside the driver.

It’s all right, he announced, jumping from the cart before it had come to a stop. Mr. Maloney knows where Aunt Jane lives, and he’ll take us there for a shilling. Won’t you, Mr. Maloney?

If you’ll not be wasting time talking, the redfaced driver declared as he clambered down from the cart. It’s going to rain snakes and frogs in a minute, and my horse is skittish in storms. Come on, young fellow. Give me a hand here.

He reached for the trunk and, with Christopher’s help, he hoisted it into the cart. Chris set their two leather bags beside it. Then everyone climbed in hastily, and Mr. Maloney picked up the reins.

Get up, Maggie! he said. And Maggie headed for the street with her hoofs making a hollow sound on the wooden dock and the cart clattering along behind her.

Leaving the warehouses and wharfs, Mr. Maloney turned at once into State Street, which ran straight up a hill to the Capitol, where the laws for the state were made.

It was rapidly growing dark, and lights were already appearing in the shops and houses along either side of the wide street. Men hung on to their tall hats, and women clutched their big bonnets as a stiff wind swept over the city. Anxiously scanning the sky, everyone was hurrying, eager to reach shelter before the storm began.

Wagons and carriages clattered over the cobblestones, with drivers shouting orders at their horses. A stagecoach rattled past Mr. Maloney’s little cart, nearly running over two pigs which squealed and scurried for safety. Peter squealed, too, as a huge covered wagon, pulled by four big white horses with jangling bells on their collars, came rumbling toward them.

Hey, Mr. Maloney, what’s that? he cried excitedly.

But Mr. Maloney did not even hear him.

Bother all this traffic, he muttered, guiding his horse over to the right. This city’s gone crazy since the canal opened up here. Steady there, Maggie.

He pulled on the reins as a loud clap of thunder startled the old mare. Maggie broke into a gallop, and they rounded the corner so sharply that Kathy had to cling to a trunk strap to keep from losing her seat.

Here’s North Pearl Street, the driver called over his shoulder. We’ll get to where we’re going afore the storm breaks—if we’re lucky.

But the storm was almost upon them. Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled again, and there was a quick spatter of rain.

Worrying about her velvet bonnet and wondering which house belonged to Aunt Jane, Kathy tried to look at both sides of the street at once. They were passing fine homes now, set close to the sidewalks. She could see servants lighting lamps and pulling curtains, or closing shutters against the fast-coming rain.

Then the fine homes were left behind. The cobblestoned street became a wide dirt road with houses set far apart. A white church loomed up in the dusk. They passed a cornfield, a meadow, and a tumble-down farm. More rain spattered down. And just as Kathy thought Mr. Maloney was never going to stop, he pulled his horse up sharply before a small gray house set back from the road.

Here you be! he cried, jumping down from the cart. "It’s Miss Martin’s house. Give me my