Steamboats were notorious 

 for one thing — boiler explo- 

 sions. If their fires were stoked 

 too high, the pressure in the 

 boiler would become too great 

 and sometime,) explode. Such 

 explwioiw were common on 

 rivers juch as the Miss iss ipp i 

 and Ohio, and many passengers 

 were lee/y of traveling aboard 

 theje hot-headed boats. 



Only one mcb explosion 

 ignited the history of the Black 

 River. The Delta exploded at 

 2:30 a.m., April 19, 1887, three 

 miles above Point Caswell at 

 Patrick j Landing, awakening 

 people for several miles up and 

 down the river. When the Delta 

 passed the Point Caswell bridge 

 tender only 30 minutes before, 

 her angiy captain was heard to 

 say: "I'm going to be at the 

 Delta (Landuig) by daybreak 

 or I'll blow her to hell. " 



Aid that he did, killing a 

 fireman and a deckhand. A a 

 testimony to the tragedy, story 

 has it that a tatter from the 

 fireman's shirt hung in a 

 nearby cypress tree until it 

 rotted away, and the twisted 

 boiler remained lodged in the 

 swamp until it was claimed 

 for scrap metal during World 

 War II. 



control the river and the federal govern- 

 ment planned how to improve it, inde- 

 pendent steamboat operators provided 

 the service that kept the river thriving. In 

 1886, four steamers were operating on 

 the Black River; the same number were 

 plying the Cape Fear River between 

 Fayetteville and Wilmington. 



Although shallow-draft steamers 

 continued to reach upriver to Lisbon and 

 Clear Run during high-water months, 

 travel was treacherous. But in Novem- 

 ber 1887, the Wilmington Morning Star 

 reported that federal work on the river 

 "has already made it possible for steam- 

 ers to run regularly from this port (Point 

 Caswell) to Clear Run, in Sampson 

 County, on any stage of water." 



Three years later, Capt. Charles 

 Humphrey, the government engineer in 

 charge of the Black River project, re- 

 ported that commerce and steamer traf- 

 fic on the river had increased. River 

 trade, still principally naval stores, 

 wood, cotton, rice and livestock, now 

 totaled almost $1.2 million, and at least 

 nine steamers, with names such as 

 Maggie, Frank Sessoms and A J. John- 

 son, operated at various times during the 

 1890s. 



Federal work on the Black River 

 ended in 1895. The project's budget had 

 been substantially decreased as work 

 progressed, and all planned improve- 

 ments above Clear Run were deleted. 

 The government did, however, approve 

 a yearly $2,000 maintenance plan. 



During this heyday of steamboat 

 traffic, towns such as Point Caswell and 



Clear Run flourished and peaked in 

 population. In 1 884, Point Caswell 

 boasted three blacksmith and wheel- 

 wright shops, three building and con- 

 tracting firms, two turpentine distiller- 

 ies, a wagon works, a shingle plant, a 

 brick manufacturing facility, three 

 mills, eight merchant firms, a school 

 and one boarding house. And in its 

 shipyards were built many of the 

 steamboats that worked the river. 



Upriver, Clear Run, population 65, 

 supported a shipyard, a turpentine dis- 

 tillery, a cotton gin, three general stores 

 and a large sawmill. 



But as Point Caswell and Clear 

 Run peaked, Lisbon died. With the 

 demise of the railroad-steamboat 

 plan and the failure of the government 

 to improve navigation above Clear 

 Run, the town's hope for expansion 

 evaporated and people abandoned it. 

 By 1895, Lisbon's population had 

 dwindled to 25. 



Perhaps Lisbon's death at the head 

 of Black River spoke of things to come 

 downriver. As the century turned with 

 hope for the future, the ways of the past 

 slowly faded away. The pine forests, 

 once thought to be an unlimited source 

 for naval stores, were drained dry. Rail- 

 roads stole from the river its trade. And 

 gasoline-powered tugs replaced whis- 

 tling steamers as the workhorses of the 

 river. 



But even the tugs couldn't fight 

 the lure of the highway and the mobil- 

 ity of the truck — the ultimate nails in 

 the Black River's coffin of commerce. 



Gradually the river quieted. Rafts 

 no longer rode the currents. Sawmills 

 no longer whined. Steamers were 

 docked. Riverboat captains retired. 

 Tugs moved to more prosperous loca- 

 tions. Point Caswell and Clear Run 

 languished and died. 



Some thought the Black River 

 died too. 



Economically, it did. 



But in the Black River's demise as 

 a commercial thoroughfare came the 

 rebirth of a river guided not by the hand 

 of man but by the whisper of nature. 



Sources for this story included: 



The Lower Cape Fear in Colonial 

 Days by Lawrence Lee, 



Riverboating in Lower Carolina 

 by F. Roy Johnson, 



The Heritage of Sampson County, 

 North Carolina published by the 

 Sampson County Historical Society, 



An Historical Oven'iew of the 

 Black River in Southeastern North 

 Carolina by Wilson Angley. 



People wanting to board a 

 steamer or load it with cargo 

 would signal boats in one of two 

 ways from the many landings 

 that lined the river. During the 

 day, a white handkerchief was 

 luied to flag the steamboat. At 

 night, lanterns, torches or large 

 fires beckoned the riverboat 

 captains. 



COASTWATCH 15 



