The Story of Paul Boyton Part 19

"The left."

The next one told him to take the right, and at last he was advised to keep in the middle.

Finding he could gain no reliable information, he stood upright and looked about to see, if possible, what the danger was. Ahead of him was a rapid, running amid big, black rocks and crossed by a bridge which was crowded with people. It was too late to think of stopping himself and be swept into and through it like an arrow; but at the bottom he was carried against a wall of rock and nearly blinded. He hung there for a few moments to recover himself, and again felt the current bearing him away almost as fast as he approached. He was kindly received all along, and had he accepted one-third of the invitations to entertainments, some months would have been required to finish the voyage. On one lonely stretch, he saw a solitary countryman standing on the bank.

"Ho, ho; my good friend," he shouted.

"Who is there?" asked the startled farmer.

"The devil."

"Where are you going?"

"To Lyons."

"Well, get along, then; you are going home."

Probably the farmer had visited Lyons, and was not pleased with that city.

Paul entered Lyons at two o'clock, having been twenty-four hours under way. He was tendered a splendid reception and presented with several rich souvenirs. Resuming the journey, he traveled at the rate of fifteen miles an hour and many people accompanied him in boats for quite a distance down the stream. At places along the route, the banks were broken, the river flooded the lowlands, and he was frequently carried among groves of trees, requiring no little exertion to keep from being pounded against them by the force of the current. He paddled that night and all the next day and night without meeting unusual adventure, when he reached Pont St. Esprit, with its long stone bridge, through one arch of which, the river rushes with much force. The next day ended this rapid voyage, as he landed at Arles in safety. The entire population was out to receive him. Not thinking of his exhausted condition, a force of gendarmes who had been sent by the Mayor to escort him to the hotel de Vine, turned a deaf ear to his demands for a carriage, but insisted on his marching through the hot, dusty street, encased in the heavy rubber dress, carrying his little boat and paddle so the people would have a good chance to see him. The gendarmes meant everything in kindness; but in that case, kindness coupled with ignorance, resulted in Paul's arriving at the hotel barely able to walk; he expressed his grat.i.tude in rather vigorous terms.

From Arles, Boyton visited Monaco on the invitation of Monsieur Blanc, who was then at the head of the great gambling inst.i.tutions of that place. At the instance of this world-famous gambler, Paul gave an exhibition for which he was presented with two-thousand-five-hundred francs by his host and his agent received five-hundred francs. The evening after the exhibition, Monsieur Blanc escorted the voyager through the sumptuous gambling palace. Thinking to please Monsieur, who had been so generous with him, Paul thought he would wager a few francs at one of the numerous rouge et noir tables and was proceeding to put down a Napoleon, when he was observed by his host whose attention had been distracted for a moment.

"Don't you do it," said he quickly, grasping Paul by the arm, "there are fools enough here without your becoming one."

Monsieur drew his guest away from the table and took him into the private office where rouleaux of gold were stacked in great piles about the walls.

One of the queer superst.i.tions of gamblers was vividly impressed on Boyton at this place. Leaving Monsieur Blanc's office he sauntered about through the rooms, deeply interested in the exciting scenes before him. It became noised around that he was in the place, and some one pointed him out. He was immediately besieged at almost every step by ladies who had been playing with ill success. They represented almost every nationality, French, American, Russian, English and Italian. Looking upon him as a lucky man, they tried to persuade him to play for them.

"Ah, Captain Boyton," one would say, "you are a man of great luck. If you put this bet down for me, I know I shall win."

That was the request made by several, when they had an opportunity to speak to him. One or two a.s.sistants would have been needed to accommodate all of them.

Leaving Monaco, Paul gave successful exhibitions in the princ.i.p.al cities of southern France and was honored with several decorations. At Lyons he gave an entertainment for the benefit of the poor in the Park of the Golden Head, at which fifteen thousand francs were realized. One of the handsomest ladies of the city, donned a suit and went into the water with him. As a mark of appreciation, the people presented him with a magnificent poinard, sheathed in a richly carved scabbard, ornamented with a handle of artistic design, weighing, with the exception of the blade of fine steel, ten pounds solid silver.

Exhibitions were given through Belgium until November 15th, 1877, In Brussels they took one thousand dollars a day for four days, and at a benefit for the poor given in the lake of the Bois de Cambrai, under the patronage of King Leopold, at which the Royal family was present, an enormous sum resulted. The king bestowed on Paul the medal of the First Order of Life Savers of Belgium.

November 17th, he began a voyage down the Somme, which occupied two days. He started at Amiens. On the evening of the first day, just before reaching Ponte Remy, where he intended to stop for the night, he was surprised at receiving a charge of shot. While he was drifting around a point above that place, a duck hunter who was concealed in the bushes mistook his feet for a pair of ducks and fired at them. Luckily the shot struck the heavy rubber soles of his dress and no damage was done. Boyton rose up in the water with a torrent of forcible comments in English, and the frightened sportsman rapidly disappeared in the darkness.

Starting early next morning, he arrived at Abbyville in the evening, where the customary generous reception awaited him. Next day he returned to Amiens where he gave an entertainment, and thence to Paris.

He had a new tender built in the latter city, in antic.i.p.ation of a voyage down the Loire. He christened the new tender the Isabel Alvarez du Toledo, in honor of a fair maid of Italy. He began the voyage of the Loire, December 8th, 1877, at Orleans, to make a run to Nantes, a distance of four hundred and nine miles. The weather was cold and miserable. The river is bad, numerous s.h.i.+fting sand bars making it difficult to keep the channel, and added to this are many beds of treacherous quicksands. The lowlands, through which the course of the river runs, leave a free vent for the wind to strike its surface, making it desirable for sail boats to navigate. They are mostly wood and provision boats, flat bottomed and built somewhat on the plan of ca.n.a.l boats. They carry an enormous square sail on a single mast, larger than any sail used on the greatest s.h.i.+ps.

At nine o'clock in the morning the start was made from Orleans and Paul arrived at Blois in the evening, where he came very near having his arm broken by coming in contract with a pile as he was leaving, so instead of running all night as he had intended doing, he hauled up and remained at Blois, much to the satisfaction of the citizens who entertained him in the most pleasant manner.

The following afternoon he started for an all night run, in order to make up for lost time. At nightfall the weather grew intensely cold and ice soon covered all exposed parts of his dress. A small, but powerful lamp on the bow of the tender, gave him plenty of light and that evening furnished the means of some amus.e.m.e.nt. Along the frozen road which follows the river bank for quite a distance, he heard the clattering of the sabots of a belated peasant, who was singing to keep his courage up. Paul darkened the lamp by putting a piece of rubber over it, and when the profile of the peasant stood clear between him and the sky, he suddenly removed the rubber and turned, the light full on the man, at the same time sounding an unearthly blast on his bugle. The startled peasant uttered no sound; but the distant clinking of his sabots down the road, told how badly he was frightened.

About four o'clock that morning, Paul felt his dress touching bottom, the current slackened, and he knew he had wandered into a false channel.

With some difficulty, he a.s.sumed an upright position and the moment he did so, found his legs grasped as in a vise.

He was caught in the quicksand.

With a feeling of horror he felt himself settling, settling in the treacherous sands, until he was slicked down nearly to the neck, his face almost even with the surface, the dark water gliding by him like some slimy serpent into the night.

The tender swung round with her bow pointing toward him, the strong light from the bull's eye glaring him in the face with its blinding rays. The little boat seemed to realize the awful situation and she tugged at the cord which fastened her to the dress, as though struggling to free him. From the moment the sands were felt, he' had worked to free himself, only to find that the effort sunk him deeper. He began to think he was not going to get out; that his time had come and not a trace on earth would be left to tell of his dreadful end. But his was not a nature to give up until the last gasp. The thought struck him that there was some chance for life by fully inflating the dress which, would have a tendency to lighten and give him more buoyancy. He seized the air tubes and in the desperation of a final hope, he blew for his life. He could feel himself lighting as the chambers filled. He had the dress inflated almost to bursting and with a powerful effort, he threw himself on his back. He was lifted clear and moved away on the gliding water, continuing the lonely journey with a prayer of thanksgiving in his heart.

At ten o'clock next morning he arrived at Tours, with nerves considerably shattered, and he accepted the invitation of that munic.i.p.ality to stop for refreshments. The kindness of the citizens and the officials was overwhelming, but he remained only long enough to become thoroughly rested when he again sought the river.

At every village during the entire trip, he was given a warm reception.

The weather being cold, the mayors insisted on his drinking hot, highly spiced wine, and he was also invariably greeted with the question asked in all countries and all towns, American as well as European: "Are you not cold?"

The little boat was loaded down with supplies and invitations were continuous from chateau and cottage to stop and partake of refreshment. Sometimes he would run far into the night before hauling up, but usually his rest was broken by bands of music turning out to serenade him, and at one place, where there was no band, an enthusiastic admirer blew a hunting horn most of the night under his window. It was a frightful but well intended serenade.

When he reached Ancenes he was met by a crowd, headed by the mayor with a liberal supply of hot wine. From this point a boatman who was employed in placing stakes indicating the changes of current, for the guidance of navigators, insisted on accompanying Paul. He had been on a protracted spree and proved annoying.

"I know the river well," he said, "and will pilot you down."

"I a.s.sure you there is no necessity for a pilot," Paul answered, "I have journeyed so far without one and can go the rest of the way."

He could not get rid of the fellow that easily, so he concluded to try some other plan. After they had proceeded a short distance Boyton asked the persistent boatman to have a drink, at the same time handing him a bottle of very strong wine that had been given him to use in case he needed a stimulant. The fellow, already half intoxicated, absorbed most of the contents and was soon maudlin. He ran his boat around and across Boyton to the latter's great annoyance. He became drowsy, however, and finally fell into a deep sleep. That was the opportunity Paul desired.

He seized the anchor that was in the bow of the fellow's boat and dropped it in the stream. The boat swung around and hung there, and Paul paddled away. When quite a distance down he heard faint cries of "Captain, Captain, where are you?" The boatman thought he was drifting; but Boyton never saw him again.

Below Ancenes Paul was met by Jules Verne, the distinguished novelist, who came up the river on a boat rowed by some of his sailors. He accompanied the voyager all the way to Nantes, where the trip terminated. The two men became great friends, the navigator enjoying the novelist's hospitality on his yacht and also at his residence in Nantes. Monsieur Verne afterward made use of the life-saving dress to ill.u.s.trate scenes in a novel ent.i.tled "The Tribulations of a Chinaman." Nantes was reached eight days from the time of starting. Excursion steamers met them and fired salutes, The Hospitaliers des Sauveteurs Bretons, the leading life-saving society of France, elected Paul an officer of the first rank and gave him diplomas and medals.

CHAPTER XV.

Until January 15th, Paul remained in Nantes, then he went to Madrid. The weather was very cold. It was his intention to make a voyage on some of the Spanish rivers. On looking over the country, he selected the Tagus as being the least known and promising more adventure than any of the others. When it was announced that he was going to attempt that river, several of the-leading residents of Madrid endeavored to dissuade him; he received letters from many prominent people telling him that the river was not navigable, running as it did, through a wild, mountainous country, and full of waterfalls. He concluded to take a look at the stream himself and so form his own opinion. For this purpose he went to Toledo and found there a narrow, turbulent river, rus.h.i.+ng over great ma.s.ses of rock. He hired a mule and rode several miles down its banks and discovered no improvement. In making inquiries of the natives about the character of the river, the invariable answer was, "Mucho malo, Senor; mucho malo." "Very bad, sir; very bad."

Boyton was far from liking the looks of the river; but made up his mind to try it anyhow, especially as everyone told him he could not do it.

After deciding on a course, he returned to Madrid and witnessed the fetes attending the marriage of King Alfonso and Queen Mercedes. The young King took great interest in the proposed voyage; he sent word over the country that the American was the guest of all Spain, and requested his people to receive him hospitably. Before leaving Madrid to begin the perilous undertaking, the Minister of the Interior gave Boyton maps of the river and all the information concerning it he possessed, which was surprisingly little: The maps were glaringly incorrect, as was afterward learned. Many towns that the maps located on the river were not near it.

When all was ready Paul's agent and baggage were sent to Lisbon to await the termination of the voyage. Paul returned to Toledo to make final preparations for the trip, which was one never before attempted. In fact, as far as was known, the river had never been navigated from source to mouth. It is three thousand five hundred feet above sea level at Toledo, which accounts for its rapid descent. On his return to the famous old city, Boyton was met by an aid-de-camp of the governor, who tendered the hospitality of that official, which was gratefully accepted for one day. That day was spent in visiting interesting points. The next morning, Thursday, January 31st, 1878, Paul drove to the river through the Gate of the Sun, and found a crowd of people a.s.sembled to see him start. In a few moments he was in the water, and the people cheered l.u.s.tily as he began energetically to ply his paddle.

As he turned the bend at the end of the first half mile, he took his last look at the stately Alcazar, away on the Crest of the hills, and at the ruins of the Moorish mills on the riverside below. Onward, and the bright, sunlit vision faded from his view.

"Now that I was started," said Paul, detailing an account of the wondrous journey, "I felt easier and stopped at noon to partake of a light dinner. I knew I was in for a tough job and made up my mind to go through with it. The river ran all over the country and was as changeable in temper as a novelist's heroine. Sometimes it was a mile wide, running slowly, with as calm and smooth a surface as a lake.

Again, at the next bend it would dart toward a range of hills, and instead of going around them as its previously erratic course led me to expect, it would plough straight through the solid rocks. Then it would become as narrow as a ca.n.a.l, deep and rapid as a mill race, and in some places hurried along with the speed of an express train. The country was utterly wild, and it was not an unusual thing to paddle from morning until night without seeing a human being. As I knew nothing of the river except that I was bound for Lisbon, it may be imagined that I was not perfectly easy in my mind, I did not know but that the next angle in a canyon might land me in a whirlpool or over a fall.

"A great majority of the peasants do not read and were therefore ignorant of my undertaking. They are somewhat superst.i.tious and my first adventure was with two of them. It was some hours after I left Toledo that I spied these men. They were great, hulking fellows, engaged in rolling a large stump up the steep hill, rising from the bank of the river. Slipping quietly along the surface, I got close behind them without their seeing me. When I hailed them, they gave me one startled look, released their hold on the stump which crashed down to the river, while they ran up and disappeared in the recesses of the hill. They never stopped to look the second time.

"I thought I would reach Peubla the first night; but owing to the extraordinary bends of the river, nightfall found me in a terribly rough portion of the country. I kept das.h.i.+ng from waterfall to waterfall, from rapid to rapid, until two o'clock in the morning, when the barking of a dog caused me to haul in. It was intensely cold and I was very tired. I blew a blast on my bugle and some very rough looking men came down to the bank. They proved to be shepherds and very kindly took me to their hut, which was not far from the water. They had the queerest way of keeping fire I ever saw. It was made of straw, the embers banked in such a way that there appeared to be only a black ma.s.s; but when they blew on the ma.s.s, a red glow would blush from it, throwing out considerable heat. Over this fire, they cooked a little soup for me. I remained in the hut until morning, stretching out on the floor for a little rest, while they stood about, speaking their mountain patois which I could not understand. I left them early in the morning, pa.s.sing through wild mountain scenery and seeing no signs of habitation. No railroad or telegraph lines cross the river until near Lisbon and there was no way for me to get word to my friends. I arrived at Peubla at twelve o'clock and owing to the fact that I ran on to an old, broken bridge which cut my dress, I was compelled to haul up. The Alcalde was out in his high, picturesque cart, drawn by a tandem team of mules. I accepted his invitation, and was driven up through the olive groves to his house, followed by crowds of people. That night there was a sort of entertainment given in my honor and having no clothing with me except the heavy suit of underwear; I had to borrow a suit from the Alcalde in order to be presentable. The women of that place were most gracious and the girls as pretty as pictures. The Alcalde's little daughter took an interest in me. She talked to me a great deal, and in fact I could understand her Spanish much better than I could the adults. What a pretty little thing she was--a perfect type of Spanish beauty. She tried her best to deter me from continuing my voyage; but next morning she went to the river to see me start. In fact the entire village was there. When I was about to step into the water and was bidding her adieu, she pressed a small religious medal into my band, saying:

"Oh, I am so afraid you will never get to Lisbon. Take this, it will help you through, The Blessed Madonna will protect you from danger."

"I kissed the little one good bye and slipped into the water amid the vivas of the crowd. I was much grieved to hear, on reaching Lisbon, that the little girl died a few days after my departure.

"Nothing of interest occurred during the day except that it was very cold and rough and a snow storm was raging. On Sunday morning I arrived at Talavera, where the kindness of the people was so great I was compelled to leave the water and rest for awhile. From there the river ran through a lower country; but wound about so that I could never see more than a quarter of a mile ahead anywhere. There was a continual change of current, now very rapid and again sluggish and smooth. Just below the town is a water fall of considerable proportions and a great crowd had gone down there to see me shoot over. In a spirit of bravado, I stood up when near the brink and was hurled over head first. Had I hit a rock, it would have killed me. The people cheered, thinking that was the way I always went over them, but I tell you I made up my mind never to try the experiment again.