Having remedied this defect, the “Clermont” continued her voyage during the rest of the day and all night, without stopping, and at one o’clock the next day ran alongside the landing at Clermont, the seat of Chancellor Livingston.  She lay there until nine the next morning, when she continued her voyage toward Albany, reaching that city at five in the afternoon, having made the entire distance between New York and Albany (one hundred and fifty miles) in thirty-two hours of actual running time, an average speed of nearly five miles per hour.  On her return trip, she reached New York in thirty hours running time—­exactly five miles per hour.  Fulton states that during both trips he encountered a head wind.

The river was at this time navigated entirely with sailing vessels, and large numbers of these were encountered by the “Clermont” during her up and down trips.  The surprise and dismay excited among the crews of these vessels by the appearance of the steamer was extreme.  These simple people, the majority of whom had heard nothing of Fulton’s experiments, beheld what they supposed to be a huge monster, vomiting fire and smoke from its throat, lashing the water with its fins, and shaking the river with its roar, approaching rapidly in the very face of both wind and tide.  Some threw themselves flat on the deck of their vessels, where they remained in an agony of terror until the monster had passed, while others took to their boats and made for the shore in dismay, leaving their vessels to drift helplessly down the stream.  Nor was this terror confined to the sailors.  The people dwelling along the shore crowded the banks to gaze upon the steamer as she passed by.  A former resident of the neighborhood of Poughkeepsie thus describes the scene at that place, which will serve as a specimen of the conduct of the people along the entire river below Albany: 

“It was in the early autumn of the year 1807 that a knot of villagers was gathered on a high bluff just opposite Poughkeepsie, on the west bank of the Hudson, attracted by the appearance of a strange, dark-looking craft, which was slowly making its way up the river.  Some imagined it to be a sea-monster, while others did not hesitate to express their belief that it was a sign of the approaching judgment What seemed strange in the vessel was the substitution of lofty and straight black smoke-pipes, rising from the deck, instead of the gracefully tapered masts that commonly stood on the vessels navigating the stream, and, in place of the spars and rigging, the curious play of the working-beam and pistons, and the slow turning and splashing of the huge and naked paddle-wheels, met the astonished gaze.  The dense clouds of smoke, as they rose wave upon wave, added still more to the wonderment of the rustics.

“This strange-looking craft was the ‘Clermont,’ on her trial trip to Albany; and of the little knot of villagers mentioned above, the writer, then a boy in his eighth year, with his parents, formed a part.  I well remember the scene, one so well fitted to impress a lasting picture upon the mind of a child accustomed to watch the vessels that passed up and down the river.