The Story of Paul Boyton Part 10

Question after question followed; but Paul was unable to convince the coast-guard that he had left the s.h.i.+p voluntarily and had landed in safety. The guard could not understand why any man should leave a vessel and come in on the coast of Ireland in such a gale unless he was s.h.i.+pwrecked. He thought Paul's brain had been injured by concussion with the rocks and a pitying expression came over his face as he said:

"Well, me poor fellow, 'ts no matther where ye're frum. It's me duty to help ye and yure mates an' if ye'll only tell me phere they air Oi'll collect the b'ys an' have thim out. Now tell me as calmly as ye can, how many is drohwned besides yureself?"

Paul saw his mistake and positively a.s.sured the guard that he was the only person to land, and that there had been no wreck and that the steamer had proceeded on her way to Queenstown. Notwithstanding all his protestations the coast guard could not realize the situation. The man before him was, however s.h.i.+pwrecked and in distress, so with the proverbial hospitality for which the Irish are famous, the guard said:

"Niver moind me lad how ye came ashure. Ye look tired enough. Come in here an' lay near the fire."

When Paul entered the warm room he removed his uncouth costume. He was thoroughly worn out buffeting the waves and with his long tramp down the road, so he gladly accepted the proferred bunk close to the fire and was soon in a sound sleep from which he was awakened by a kindly voice saying:

"Here me poor fellow, take this, 't will do ye good."

Before Paul could realize it he had poured a gla.s.s of whiskey down his throat, the strength of which raised every individual hair on his head.

It was then about eight o'clock in the morning and the coast guard house was full of the villagers, men and women who curiously crowded around his bunk. They were a wild looking lot. Paul noticed the women particularly. They looked strong and rosy. They all wore long cloaks with a hood covering the head, and their feet were naked and as red as a pigeon's. From the expressions he overheard, he concluded that the coast-guard man had drawn on his imagination in explaining the stranger's appearance in the station.

"Did he railly swim from New York?" he heard time and again.

"Oh, thin he's not human if he could do that," and many other exclamations of like nature greeted the astonished Paul as he drowsily turned out of the bunk.

The coast-guard man now approached and driving the curious villagers out of the station, he invited him to breakfast in a little tavern across the way. The entire village was out. Crowds blocked their way as they crossed the street. While eating breakfast Paul learned that the most of the excitement was created by a report that he had swam all the way from New York. In conversation with the guard, he found out that the village was called Baltimore, a little coast town about thirty miles from where he had left the steamer; and also that there was no telegraph office nearer than Skibbereen, a distance of nine miles. There was but one conveyance in the village and as the driver was a very eccentric character, it was doubtful if he could be induced to go out on such a stormy morning. Paul requested that this man be sent for. Soon afterward he appeared pus.h.i.+ng his way through the villagers. He was a strange looking man. The coast guard introduced him:

"Here is Andy," said he.

The latter acknowledged the introduction, by pulling his head forward with a lock of hair and exclaiming, as he eyed Paul curiously:

"Did ye railly swim from New Yark'"

Paul laughed, saying: "I hear you have a horse and I am anxious to get over to Skibbereen and send off a telegram. I would like to have you take me over there."

"It's no ha.r.s.e Oi have," he solemnly responded, "but Oi've wan av the finest mares in the south av Ireland an Oi'll drive ye over for six s.h.i.+llin'. But did ye railly swim from New Yark? Shure it's not natural."

Paul urged him to get his animal as quickly as possible and the driver rushed through the door only to be surrounded by a group of wild looking villagers, who questioned him both in Irish and English. Soon after Andy re-appeared coming down the village street driving a sorry looking nag. As he approached the tavern and saw Paul and the guard at the door, he shouted loudly to the crowd to separate, as though wis.h.i.+ng to show Paul the blood in his favorite mare. He punched her with a little stick from which the sharp point of a nail protruded and by a dexterous movement dodged the flying hind feet that were aimed at his head.

"Phat de ye think o' that, sur? There's blood fur ye." A murmur of admiration stirred the crowd.

"But where is your cart? Hurry up and get her hitched," urged Paul.

Soon after Andy drove up to the door of the coast guard station with his jaunting car. The mare was. .h.i.tched to the car with a curious combination of harness composed of twisted hay, rope, cords and leather.

As nearly every one knows, a jaunting car is a two-wheeled affair.

Over each wheel runs a seat, fore and aft, and in the centre is a little receptacle for small baggage, called the well. A car generally carries four pa.s.sengers, two on each side. On such occasions, the driver sits on a little seat over the well, looking to the front, while the pa.s.sengers' backs are turned toward each other. Having only one pa.s.senger, Andy decided to sit on the opposite side of the car to ballast her evenly. After Paul bid good-bye to the coast guard and thanked him for his hospitality, he placed his rubber suit on the forward part of the seat and sprung up behind. Andy seemed in no hurry to get under way. A mult.i.tude of knots in the harness required attention and he carefully scrutinized every part of the car while the villagers kept up a volley of comments such as: "Shure it's a quare customer ye have this mornin', Andy my b'y. The Lord betune ye an'

harrum, Andy avick. Shure it's no human bein' ye're drivin' away wid."

And many other remarks made in Irish, no doubt, of the same encouraging character.

"Come, come," exclaimed Paul impatiently, "let us get off?"

Andy reluctantly clambered on the opposite seat and commenced driving slowly up the village street, followed by a loud huzza. He seemed ill at ease and was loth to leave, driving so slowly that Paul had to urge him on. Reaching the last house on the straggling village street, he stopped the car and turning to Paul said: "Oi want to get a light fur my pipe, sur."

After a little time, during which Paul heard a vehement conversation going on inside, Andy re-appeared holding a coal of fire on the bowl of his clay pipe. He remounted again and slowly drove away followed by the shrill blessings and good wishes of the barefooted woman that stood at the door. Their way now lay along the cliff-road and squall after squall came bearing in from a roaring sea outside. At times Andy would reach across when the booming of the breakers could be heard coming up through ravine on the cliffs and say:

"Shure no human bein' could live in that sea, sur. Did ye come on top of the wather er under?"

"Oh, drive on, drive on," was the impatient response, "never mind."

Seeing one more than usually severe squall coming down on them from the sea, Paul, who was facing windward, thought he would be more comfortable if he would slip the rubber tunic over his head and shoulders. This he did without attracting the attention of Andy and he leaned forward pointing the comical shaped head-piece to the rapidly advancing squall. The head-piece not being inflated, the aperture for the face hung down like a great mouth. The car suddenly gypped and Paul felt his side sink a little. Turning around find the cause and pulling the head-piece from over his eyes, he saw the affrighted Andy about twelve yards away in a ditch. His eyes filled with terror, seemed to protrude from his head while he rapidly made the sign of the cross over his face and breast.

"What's the matter? What are you doing there?" thundered Paul. "Come on, get up, get up. What's the matter with you?"

"Och, shure, it's well Oi knew that it was no christian Oi had wid me this mornin'."

"Come on now, or I'll drive on without you," angrily exclaimed Paul, "don't you see that this is only a rubber dress that I put on to protect me from the rain."

After considerable persuasion, Andy was induced to remount and they continued through the heavy rain in silence. Soon after Paul asked:

"Andy, how far is it yet to Skibbereen?"

"About fure miles, ye're honor, and Oi wish it was only fure feet," In, added in an audible undertone.

Shortly after the houses on the outskirts of Skibbereen began to appear and Andy brightened up wonderfully and became quite communicative. He informed Paul that a friend of his had a hotel there and that it was a good one and that he would drive straight to it.

"Con Sullivan kapes the foinest hotel that mon er beast iver shtoped at," he concluded.

There were few on the streets as they drove up to the hotel. Paul dismounted and taking his suit into the hotel, asked for a private room.

He then inquired of the landlord where the telegraph office was and started for it. He wrote a telegram, one to the captain of the Queen and one to the English office of the "New York Herald," Fleet Street, London. The lady operator scanned over the dispatch to London, then closely scrutinized Paul. Seeing her hesitation about accepting the telegram, Paul demanded to know what was the cause of it. "Excuse me, sir," said she, "but we have to be very careful about the nature of the telegrams we send out from here. I must first call the superintendent, before I can accept this."

When that individual appeared he looked it over and asked Paul if the contents were all true and correct.

"They a.s.suredly are," impatiently exclaimed Paul, "I want you to get it off as quickly as you can," and he followed this up by several remarks not over complimentary to their methods of doing business.

Paul then returned to the hotel where he found Andy surrounded by a crowd to whom he was relating his adventures and giving a history of his eccentric pa.s.senger in his own way. When they saw Paul he was an object of the wildest curiosity. The crowd poured into the hotel after him and invaded the dining room, so he had to remonstrate with the landlord who unceremoniously shouldered-them out. The news of Paul's arrival on the coast seemed to have spread with the rapidity of a prairie fire all over Skibbereen, and people commenced gathering from all parts of the town around the hotel. One of the gentlemen who insisted on coming in was the superintendent of the telegraph, Mr.

Jolly. He apologized for his seeming discourtesy at the office and a.s.sured Paul that the dispatch he had written seemed so improbable that he could not in justice blame them for not receiving it. He proved to be a very friendly, sociable gentleman and gave Paul all the a.s.sistance and information he desired. He informed him that he would have to leave Skibbereen by stage which would depart in a couple of hours. This stage would convey him to the first railway station, some ten or twelve miles away where he could get a train in the afternoon for Cork. He urgently requested him to remain over for a few days and enjoy the hospitality of Skibbereen. Paul, being anxious to reach Cork, declined. He requested the landlord to send Andy in to settle up. As the hero was ushered in, it was easy to observe that the people had been filling him as well as pumping him.

"Here are your six s.h.i.+llings, I believe that is what you asked me."

"That's roight, sur," said Andy as he reached his hand, "that's fur meself, but how about me mare?"

"What have I got to do with your mare?"

"Shure, sur, ye don't want the poor baste to starve to death."

"Certainly not, she is yours and you ought to feed her."

"But, sur, Oi niver had a traveller yet as didn't pay fur the mare's eatin' an' drinkin' as well as moine."

Paul was amused at this new rule, but was informed by Mr. Jolly that such was the custom in that part of Ireland.

"Well, Andy," said he, "how much do you think it will take to keep your mare from starving until you get back to Baltimore? Here's your two s.h.i.+llings more."

Andy accepted the two s.h.i.+llings with evident satisfaction on behalf of the mare.