ght than
could be removed by day, the prospect of getting to sea was
unpromising. One afternoon, Captain Vanderbilt joined the crowd of
spectators.

"They are going the wrong way to work," he carelessly remarked, as he
turned to go home. "I could get her out in one day."

These words, from a man who was known to mean all he said, made an
impression on a bystander, who reported them to the anxious agent of
the Society. The agent called upon him.

"What did you mean, Captain, by saying that you could get out the ship
in one day?"

"Just what I said."

"What will you get her out for?"

"One hundred dollars."

"I'll give it. When will you do it?"

"Have a steamer to-morrow, at twelve o'clock, ready to tow her out.
I'll have her clear in time."

That same evening, at six, he was on the spot with five men, three
pine boards, and a small anchor. The difficulty was that beyond the
ship there were two hundred yards of ice too thin to bear a man. The
captain placed his anchor on one of his boards, and pushed it out as
far as he could reach; then placed another board upon the ice, laid
down upon it, and gave his anchor another push. Then he put down his
third board, and used that as a means of propulsion. In this way he
worked forward to near the edge of the thin ice, where the anchor
broke through and sunk. With the line attached to it, he hauled a boat
to the outer edge, and then began cutting a passage for the ship.

At eleven the next morning she was clear. At twelve she was towed into
the stream.

In 1829, after twelve years of service as captain of a steamboat,
being then thirty-five years of age, and having saved thirty thousand
dollars, he announced to his employer his intention to set up for
himself. Mr. Gibbons was aghast. He declared that he could not carry
on the line without his aid, and finding him resolute, said:--

"There, Vanderbilt, take all this property, and pay me for it as you
make the money."

This splendid offer he thankfully but firmly declined. He did so
chiefly because he knew, the men with whom he would have had to
co-operate, and foresaw, that he and they could never work comfortably
together. He wanted a free field.

The little Caroline, seventy feet long, that afterward plunged over
Niagara Falls, was the first steamboat ever built by him. His progress
as a steamboat owner was not rapid for some years. The business was in
the hands of powerful companies and wealthy individuals, an