The Boss's Boy

by Roy F. Chandler

  Eventually, a canal boat would be able to travel all the way to Pittsburgh—or so engineers claimed, although few could see how a canal could cross the high mountains in between.

  The Matt Millers knew how the boats would cross the heights of the Allegheny Mountain, and that scheme had, in part, inspired Big Matt's launching of his son on his steam engine examinations.

  Crossing the mountains would probably not involve the Miller companies, at least directly, but knowing what was coming and how things were done offered opportunity.

  When they arrived at the great mountains, canal boats would encounter a railroad that angled up the major mountain. The loaded canal boat would be floated onto a railcar and a huge steam engine at the top of the rail line would attach a new kind of rope called a cable to the car. The engine would turn, and the car would rise. At the top end of the rail line, a new cable would be attached, and a steam engine higher on the mountain would take over and haul the load up a second inclined railroad. Those engines burned wood, but even the great mountains were getting chopped out. Eventually coal might do better.

  The inclined-plane railroad lifting procedure would continue until the canal boat reached the top where it would descend on the Pittsburgh side much as it had risen. The scheme was revolutionary, but both the Captain and China Smith believed it would work.

  The cable being used was of special interest. Instead of twisted strands of hemp rope, the new cable was to be made from lengths of metal wire twisted until the mass became large and stunningly strong. The word cable would be forever changed to mean wire rope, and Miller and Smith could see a thousand uses for the extremely strong line that did not stretch like ordinary rope. The world they had all known was changing in marvelous ways, and it would profit them to know and be ready to take advantage of the changes.

  The Boss's boy knew Alex Donovan. Donovan was the foreman who had thrown him into the canal when he and Mickey McFee were trying to settle things once and for all.

  When China turned him over to Donovan for the day and probably longer, Matt took careful measure of the man. There would be no fist fighting or any other uncooperative actions from the Boss's Boy. He was not being guided around to show off how smart or tough he was. Donovan knew almost everything about everything the Millers undertook, and little Matt was sent to learn. He was hungry to discover all that the foreman knew, but it was natural for any man to judge how he would make out if he and the bull of the towpath came to blows.

  Not so good, Matt estimated. Alex Donovan had fists the size of splitting mauls and the body to go with them. Donovan was more than forty years old, and he had been running work gangs for big Matt for nearly twenty years. That meant Donovan was smart and tougher than a hickory plank. The Boss's Boy perked up and paid complete attention.

  Donovan asked, "So what do you know about canals, Matt?" There was no suggestion in the foreman's voice that the Boss's Boy was any more than any other young man trying to learn.

  "I know how they work, sort of, and I know where and why they go where they go, Mister Donovan. I'm afraid I do not know much about building canals, if that is what you mean."

  "That is what I mean. To make sure that we don't miss anything, I'll pretend that you never saw a canal before, and as I think of things, I'll describe them to you. If you've got questions, ask ‘em. That's what you are here for, and that is what I've been pulled off serious work to explain."

  Oh, oh, Alex Donovan was not exactly thrilled by his assignment. Matt resolved to stay humble and interested. Actually, he was interested, so that part should be easy. Humble? Listening to a man as knowledgeable as Donovan, humility should come naturally.

  Donovan began on Duncan's Island.

  "A canal can be no better than its surveying, Matt. The trick is to lay out long runs of canal where the water level will be flat. That means that the canal neither rises nor falls, and it has no current. Because we are following a river, the canal must move either uphill or downhill. When we have canal as long as can be done, we raise the canal water level to a new height by building a stone box with a wooden door on each end. The box is large enough to hold a boat."

  They had arrived at the familiar lock on the island that boats entered leaving the canal to cross the Susquehanna or returning from that river to proceed up the Juniata.

  Donovan introduced details Matt had been unaware of. "For some reason I have never understood, this part of Duncan's Island—here on the west bank—belongs to Dauphin County that is, otherwise, all on the east shore of the Susquehanna.

  "Common sense would say that a county line should run at the center of a river, but this lock, all of the Clark's Ferry Bridge, and the dam below the bridge, are in Dauphin County.

  "So, this lock belongs to the Dauphin canal section although it stands on what should logically be Perry County ground. From here on past Newport, about twenty miles, I would guess, the canal runs flat, and the next lock is at Old Ferry almost at Millerstown. Canal builders like those long runs, as do the boatmen. Canals running through flats like these are easiest to build and fastest to move through."

  They examined the lock, and Donovan resumed his description as though Matt lacked eyes and had little brainpower. The foreman had apparently forgotten that Matt had hauled stone and mixed mortar, helping to build this very lock.

  Or, maybe Donovan was just continuing his explanation pretending that Matt did know nothing and needed everything from the beginning—to make sure that nothing was overlooked.

  The foreman said, "We call this stone box a lock, and once through a lock, the canal and the boat are either higher or lower than before the lock." Matt wanted to groan.

  Donovan paused to adjust a tobacco chew and to spit aside. He resumed his explanation in a resigned tone that indicated he was aware that Matt understood these simplest of descriptions that had to be covered anyway.

  "So, if a boat is going upriver via a canal, it will eventually reach a lock. The lower lock gate is opened, and the canal boat is floated inside. The lower door is then closed and the upstream door is eased open allowing water from the higher canal to flow in and fill the box. When the water level in the box reaches the new canal height, the boat is floated out and continues on upstream in the flat water."

  Matt suspected everybody in the whole world knew all of that, but Donovan continued as if his student were the most uninformed child ever talked to.

  "Now, the flat water is the important part, Matt. That is the real canal. The locks are just gimmicks to lift or lower. Because the canals never rise or fall but just run perfectly flat, a team of horses or mules on the towpath never has a harder or easier pull. The boat always slides along as easy or as heavily as ever. Animals pulling level on the smoothed out canal towpath can work for years where the same team pulling loads up and down roads would wear itself out in a few seasons, and a canal team can easily move a gigantic load on a boat that it could never budge if it were on a wagon."

  Donovan chose to sit on an immense flat-topped log placed near the lockmaster's building for resting, and Matt was pleased to sit alongside his instructor.

  "Canals move goods cheap and they move steadily, so a man can make a reasonable guess of when his purchases will arrive. Canal boats are gentle on manufactured things, and people like to ride on them because they do not beat you half to death the way a horse or carriage does."

  "They are slower than molasses, though, Mister Donovan. A horse can make better time even on bad roads."

  Donovan nodded. "Mostly true, although fast packet boats will go long distances moving whole groups of people—as they will between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh when we are done— better than any teams of horses pulling coaches ever could. The people will arrive rested and comfortable, and the horse teams pulling the boats will hardly raise a sweat. The canal teams will be moving on flat ground and at an unchanging pace. That makes for speed and comfort, young Matt."

  Matt Miller agreed with everything the foreman said. The canals would
open the mountain communities to the outside world as never before. A farmer raising grain deep in the middle of Pennsylvania could have his crop safely to market in the nation's biggest cities within a week or two. The world was moving ahead at an amazing pace.

  Donovan chose to rest himself on a sitting-log closer to the canal edge.

  "When the diggers hollowed out the canal we are looking at here on Duncan's Island they encountered mountains of Indian bones. Seems that some of the tribes had a huge battle here about the time we whites were moving in. It's said that the island was littered with skeletons and broken weapons. The most interesting and mysterious find was a large, stone Christian cross buried about three feet deep that looked to be very old. Where it came from nobody knows, but . . ."

  Matt interrupted, "Where is the cross now, Mister Donavan? I would like to see it."

  The foreman sighed. "At the bottom of the Susquehanna. Some professors down in Philadelphia wanted to study it, so the cross was put on a supply boat and shipped down, but the boat had a load of black powder aboard that blew up on the way. The whole rig is on the bottom somewhere down river."

  Donovan got back to his history. "The point I was making is that this land is not the untouched soil we like to think it is. A lot of generations of people have lived here, and when we look close, their marks show. The canal diggers raked the Indian bones into piles and buried them in the canal banks. Now, they'd be hard to find."

  Donovan chose a stick and swiped a clear space on the flat ground at their feet.

  "I know you've seen canals full and empty, Matt, but I doubt you've studied them closely. Canal shape doesn't just happen, and some shapes are better than others."

  The foreman drew in the dirt with his stick.

  "A canal cannot be straight-sided. Any numbskull will know that straight sides will cave in and have to be dug out again.

  Most canals have banked sides and almost flat bottoms. Like this:

  "The trick is to have slanted sides on the canal that match the slant of a canal boat's sides. That way, when a boat scrapes a side it just slides along and does not gouge holes in the canal walls.

  "Unfortunately, there are only loose rules on boat shapes, and box-ended boats get launched that just eat the hell out of canal banks. The reason we worry about that is because a lot of the ground in this part of Pennsylvania has shale in it, and shale does not hold water well. So, we have to line the canals with a few inches of clay. Lining canals is expensive and takes time. Having the sides ripped open by cheap boats costs a lot, and the Commonwealth does not like having to provide those kind of repairs when they should not be necessary."

  Donovan appeared thoughtful before continuing. "I hear that you and China are going to build canal boats out at Benvenue, is that right?"

  Matt was surprised that the idea had spread.

  "Well, it is China's idea, but I would like to be part of it. I don't think the plan is for certain yet, but it sounds profitable to me."

  Donovan nodded approval. "Boat building will make some money for a while, but for the long run, boat repair will make more. A proper boatyard ought to have handy skids where boats can be easily drawn from and relaunched into the canal so the repair can be more or less overnight. That way, canal traffic that develops leaks or needs work can plan ahead and get it done without delay."

  A thought popped into Matt's mind. "Then, our boatyard should be along the canal and not in Benvenue. Maybe right up against the turning basin just past the aqueduct would be the place."

  The thinking prompted another concept and Matt added, "You know, Mister Donavan, we could dig a length of canal off the basin and put our skids and maybe a dock or two along it. As I recall, there is a run of water off the mountain right along in there that just might give us enough fall to run a sawmill for our river logs, and . . ."

  Donovan asked, "What logs?"

  "Oh, I suggested that we could salvage free logs from the river by towing them in behind Halderman's Island for our own sawing. Then . . ."

  Donovan was clearly amazed. "Matt, boy, you're just full of ideas, aren't you." He again pondered. "I like the log claiming idea, but I don't remember any stream coming down near the basin. Could be, though, and any stream can be dammed."

  Flooded with enthusiasm, Matt said, "Oh we wouldn‘t have to put in much of a dam, Mister Donovan. We could just channel the flow into a chute and put an overshot waterwheel under it. All we would need would be enough weight of water to turn the wheel at a good rate."

  The foreman held up a restraining palm. "All right, Matt. You take that up with your father. Let's get back to the canal building.

  "Now, here's a trick we've been using where shale ground is the worst. What we do is put a sort of bustle in the bottom edge of the canal. When one of those brick–shaped boats touches, it just digs into the bustle and doesn't start leaks. Seems to work pretty well, and it keeps all but the best-shaped boat from scraping along the sides. Boat pilots get lazy and let their crafts ram the banks all of the time.

  "Your Pa has a team employed full time repairing those kind of accidents. Pilots tell the repair crews where the damage is—that's always claimed to have been caused by some other boat, of course—and Miller Men go fix the leaks. Steady money and regular employment for that crew—paid for by the Commonwealth, which is the most certain money there is these days."

  A workboat came off the Clark's Ferry Bridge (the new Susquehanna river covered-bridge crossing) and resumed its walking pace up the canal. Donovan hailed the pilot who knew the Miller foreman and welcomed them aboard for the remainder of the journey to the turning basin.

  As they waited out the canal lock's cycle, Donovan kept explaining. "Now, Matt, a boat like we are on is made for easy maneuvering. I'd judge this craft to be about forty feet in length, and it only needs a single animal to move it along. The boat has a rudder-man who is also the captain to keep the boat in line and a horse or mule handler who controls the towpath.

  "In this case, we have a mule, which I favor, incidentally. Mules pull heavier loads and last longer. The only special thing to know about mules is that they are smarter than horses, so they can be stubborn and downright pestiferous in nature—especially if foolish demands are placed on them. A cantankerous mule should be traded away.

  "Mules also tend to choose their own pace. Hurrying a mule is not often profitable, but if you let the mule use his good sense, he will probably get you and your cargo there just as fast with a lot less wear on himself.

  "Canal boats vary a lot in length, and we will have a few that will be one hundred feet long, and many as short as twenty-five feet. Most boats do not long haul, and their cargoes do not travel to the sea. As a practical matter, canal boats must be short enough to fit in a lock, which limits them to less than ninety feet long on most canals, and they must be able to pass each other in the canals.

  "A canal boat is rarely more than ten feet wide, and a typical canal is forty-five feet wide. There is a square footage rule involved in these measurements. A canal should be six times the square footage of a cross section of a boat. We tend to add a few inches of canal width just to make sure.

  "The area rule is important as it helps control boat momentum and currents within the canals. The waves, even the little ones created by the slowest moving boats, force other boats out of line and encourage canal wall erosion."

  Donovan's sketch of a boat's cross-section and a canal shape demonstrated the square footage rule.

  Most of the details were new to Matt, and he believed them important. He spoke his appreciation.

  "I never knew this stuff, Mister Donovan. Even this much makes me feel ignorant and not ready to go ahead with some of the plans I have been dreaming up."

  "There is nothing earthshaking to know, Matt. It is small knowledge that once heard is remembered, and you will automatically apply it whenever you need it.

  "How much water a boat draws is also controlled, and it is important. By drawing, I mean, how deep in t
he canal the boat sinks when fully loaded. As a rule of thumb, the Commonwealth requires a boat to have eighteen inches of water beneath her bottom. A canal bottom being passed over creates drag on the boat, unless about a foot and a half of water separates the two. Most canals are dug for boats that draw four feet. That means that most of them have a five and one half foot water depth.

  "That sounds shallow, but men can drown in water that deep." Donovan chuckled in memory.

  "When we threw you and Mickey McFee into the canal those years ago, we took note that the ditch was still refilling, and there was about four feet of water for you to wallow around in."

  Matt was amused by the revelation, but he was looking ahead to examining the Petersburg side of the turning basin where he thought he remembered a small stream trickling down and where he could visualize a working sawmill and their boatyard.

  Matt asked, "If we put in a sawmill, could we float our logs through the basin to the mill do you think, Mister Donovan?"

  Donovan snorted disdain. "Not a prayer, Boss's Boy. If you were allowed, everyone would try dragging something. Canals are for paying customers, and there are no exceptions. State inspectors would shut you down in a minute—or less."

  Matt Miller was not dismayed. So, they would build a pair of flatboats that would draw less than four feet and use "A" frame hoists to load their logs onto the crafts. Coming out from behind Halderman's Island, they could simply turn their loaded boats into the river-level canal, ease through the lock, and tow them to the mill. Of course, that would cost locking fees.

  There was another way that Matt had seen while in Philadelphia. It was called warping, and great ships were moved to docks using the method. He could float his logs from behind Halderman's Island to the mouth of the Juniata. He could place an anchor or a piling upstream in the Juniata. A rope attached to the front of his log and around a pulley on the piling would run to an ox on the shore. The log would be pulled to the piling, and then reattached to a piling further upriver. It might even be possible to loop the rope through a pulley and back to his rowing boat that would head downstream. Aided by the current and by rowing powerfully, they might propel the log upstream until it was positioned to haul from the river and used in the mill.