The stone fleet, not, however, with pomp or banners sailed from New London, Ct., Nov. 20th. Twelve or fifteen vessels departed from this port, all bound south and all laden with stone. The crafts were old whalers, some of the largest size, but a hard-looking set. They have spent their lives nudging the icebergs, and have been industrious in their vocation of seeking material to illuminate the world and to make life tolerable at night to those who slept not. An immense quantity of midnight oil have they gathered in their day. They go now to illustrate the ideas of commerce which prevail in the darker portion, girt with sandbars, of our disturbed republic.
A screw is fixed in their bottom which can be worked from the deck. When it is screwed out, the water, in a stream as big as a man’s leg comes in, and the vessel is sunk. The stone anchors it at the bottom. Our fleet is to be joined outside by a like one from New Bedford, which will make the whole number of the vessels about thirty. Six thousand dollars each have been paid by the government for some of the best of these vessels. The fleet will be under the command of an old sea-dog of whaling propensities, who has been appointed commodore.
Raftsman’s Journal, Clearfield, PA