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The Story of Paul Boyton: Voyages on All the Great Rivers of the World

by Paul Boyton · English · Gutenberg #19230 · 838,324 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Story of Paul Boyton: Voyages on All the Great Rivers of the World

Author: Paul Boyton


        
Release date: September 9, 2006 [eBook #19230]
                Most recently updated: January 8, 2016

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19230

Credits: Produced by Jerry Kuntz as part of the Lawson's Progress Project. Digitization effort dedicated to Enid Fiatte


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF PAUL BOYTON: VOYAGES ON ALL THE GREAT RIVERS OF THE WORLD ***




Produced by Jerry Kuntz as part of the Lawson's Progress
Project. Digitization effort dedicated to Enid Fiatte.






THE STORY OF PAUL BOYTON

VOYAGES ON ALL THE GREAT RIVERS OF THE WORLD, PADDLING OVER TWENTY-FIVE
THOUSAND MILES IN A RUBBER DRESS

A RARE TALE OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE

THRILLING EXPERIENCES IN DISTANT LANDS, AMONG STRANGE PEOPLE. A BOOK FOR
BOYS, OLD AND YOUNG.

To my beloved and gentle wife, whose patience and help have enabled me
to present the public the story of my life. --Paul Boyton


CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.-On the Allegheny. First Attempt at navigation. The Grey
Eagle. Voyage on a coal fleet.

CHAPTER II.-College days. Bruce's dam. The Fort of the Wild Geese.

CHAPTER III.-In the U. S. Navy. A voyage to the West Indies. Diving for
treasure.

CHAPTER IV.-Wrecking with Captain Balbo. In the hull of a slaver. A
swarm of sharks. Joining the Mexican revolutionists.

CHAPTER V.-Entering the life saving service. Grateful people. In the
Franco-Prussian war. Failure of the Cuban expedition.

CHAPTER VI.-As a submarine diver. The Diamond fields of Africa. A
floating Hell. An escape at Malaga.

CHAPTER VII.-The rubber dress. Overboard from the steamer Queen. Landing
on the coast of Ireland.

CHAPTER VIII.-Arrival in Queenstown. The first lecture. In Dublin.
Appearance before Queen Victoria.

CHAPTER IX.-Voyage across the English Channel. Pigeon dispatches.
Landing in England.

CHAPTER X.-In Germany. A voyage down the Rhine. Through the whirlpool of
Lurlei. The press boat.

CHAPTER XI.-A short run on the Mississippi. The funny Negro pilot. Down
the Danube and the Po. Attacked by fever. Lucretia Borgia's castle.

CHAPTER XII.-Voyage on the Arno from Florence to Pisa. Narrow escape
over a fall. Down the Tiber to Rome. Across the bay of  Naples. Knighted
by King Victor Emmanuel.

CHAPTER XIII.-The Straits of Messina. Attacked by sharks. Whirlpools of
Scylla and Charybdis. Lake Trasimene.

CHAPTER XIV.-Quick voyage down the Rhone. The smugglers' chain. The
gambling palaces of Monte Carlo. Down the Loire. In the Quicksands.

CHAPTER XV.-On the mysterious Tagus from Toledo to Lisbon. Over great
falls and through dark canons. Ancient Moorish  masonry.  The villianous
brigands.

CHAPTER XVI.-From Europe to Africa, across the Straits of Gibraltar.
Preparing for sharks. Contrary currents and heavy  overfalls.  Landing
at Tangier.

CHAPTER XVII.-Paddling in the ice floes on the Allegheny. Down the Ohio
to Cairo. Queer characters. On  the  Mississippi.  Strange  sights  and
sounds. The comical darkies. Alligators. "Dead man in a boat."

CHAPTER XVIII.-Voyage on the Merrimac. Some peculiar people. A rough
trip down the Connecticut. Lost in a Snow Storm. A winter in Florida.

CHPATER XIX.-Off for South America. An officer in the Peruvian service.
Placing torpedoes. Caverns of the  sea.  Inca  Tombs.  An  escape  from
prison and rescue from a lonely island.

CHAPTER XX.-The Upper Mississippi. The German Doctor and the negro
boatman. Arrival at Cairo. Hunting and fishing.

CHAPTER XXI.-The longest voyage. Down the Yellowstone and Missouri.
Thrilling adventures through the  western  wilds.  In  the  tepees  of
the Indians. Caving banks, snags and mud sucks. Camp of the Rustlers.
Arrival in St. Louis.

CHAPTER XXII.-Hunting in Southern bayous. An interesting voyage down the
Arkansaw. Haytien insurgents. Down the Sacramento. A  night  on  Great
Salt Lake. Down the Hudson. In the ice on Lake Michigan. Catching seals.

CHAPTER XXIII.-Boyton to-day.




CHAPTER I.

One bright day in July, 1858, two women carrying well filled market
baskets, were crossing the old Hand Street bridge that spans the
Alleghany River between Pittsburgh and Alleghany City, Penn.

"Oh, Mrs. Boyton, do look at that child in the middle of the river
paddling around on a board."

"Well," said the one addressed as Mrs. Boyton, "I'm glad it is none of
mine. My son Paul, loves the water dearly, but I took the precaution  to
lock him up before I started for market."

After observing the child, who was evidently enjoying his aquatic sport,
for some time, the two women proceeded on their way. On reaching home,
Mrs. Boyton, with a feeling of remorse for keeping her young son so long
in captivity, went up stairs to release him, and to her  consternation
found that he had escaped. Three minutes later an excited woman stood on
bank of the Alleghany, vigorously waving  her  hand  and  hailing  the
youthful navigator. The forward end of the one by twelve inch board was
reluctantly headed for shore, and slowly idled in. As the child reached
land, he was grasped by the angry and anxious mother, who beat a merry
tattoo on a tender portion his body with a shingle.

This was not the first time that the young hero had received punishment
for loving the water. His home was within one block of  the  clear  and
swift flowing Alleghany; and whenever he could escape the vigilant eye
of his mother, he was found either on the bank or in the water. One day,
Mrs. Boyton, who had a continual dread of his being drowned, was going
on a visit, and she determined to secure Paul against accident. She took
him upstairs, undressed him and removed his clothes from the room. She
locked the door and went away content.

The day was lovely; the water lay clear and blue in sight and Paul could
hear the delighted  cries  of  the  boys  as  they  plunged  into  its
refreshing depths. The temperature was too strong. Paul searched the
room carefully and to his joy, discovered a pair of his father's
drawers. He got into them and tied the waist-string around his neck.
Then forcing a window, he slid down the  convenient  lightning  rod like
a  young monkey, and was found in his usual haunt by his astonished
mother some hours later. From this time on, she gave him more liberty to
follow  his natural bent. From early May until late in October, when not
at school, Paul spent most of his time in the water.

In those days, driftwood, consisting of slabs, logs and boards, were
continually floating down the river from the headwaters, where  the
great forests were being cut down. When he saw a nice piece of wood,
Paul would cut through the water like a young shark, and swim with it
ahead  of him to the shore, where his lumber pile was a goodly sized
one. He kept his mother's cellar well supplied with firewood and sold
the surplus to the neighbors; the proceeds of wich were devoted to
gingerbread and even at that early age to the abominable  roll  of
tobacco  known  as  the "Pittsburgh Stogie."

Great rafts of lumber were coming down the river daily and a favorite
amusement when he saw one, was to run up the river bank about  a quarter
of a mile, swim off and board it. In this way he became acquainted with
many of the hardy "buck-tail" boys who piloted the huge rafts down  the
river. His knowledge of the different bars that were formed by the
bridge piers was utilized, and often  proved  of  great assistance  to
his friends, the raftsmen. One day, he boarded a raft, the captain of
which was evidently a stranger to the channel in the vicinity of
Pittsburgh, and Paul saw that it was certain to run aground. He told the
captain and was so earnest in his manner, the course  was  ordered
changed.  Less than 500 yards further down, the ugly bar showed up not
five feet from the side of the raft, as it went gliding by. The
raftsman  insisted  on keeping the little fellow by his side until he
was safely moored to the Pittsburgh shore; then as a reward for  his
services,  presented  Paul with a little flat boat about twelve feet
long by five feet wide and ordered two of the crew to tow it with a
skiff to the Alleghany side.

The generous present was most joyfully and thankfully received, for
Paul's sole and only ambition for a long time had been to own  a  boat.
As the two sturdy oarsmen with the boat in tow, neared the Alleghany
shore, Paul stood erect in the stern,  his  eyes  shining  with  triumph
and satisfaction, and loudly hailed his playmates to come and see his
prize. It is safe to say, that no commander of  a  vessel,  ever  viewed
his craft with more pride, than Paul did his little flat-bottom boat. He
named her "Gray Eagle." He was ever tired of  overhauling,  scrubbing
and cleaning her. All the money realized by the capture of drift-wood,
was devoted to the purchase of paint. He selected and shipped  a  crew
from among his playmates. They were soon able to drive her where they
liked upon the river with long poles and paddles, and many a successful
battle royal was fought with their old enemies across the river, the
Pittsburgh boys. The "Gray Eagle" was generally  half  loaded  with
nice,  round stones that served as ammunition.

The "Eagle" would be carefully poled up the Alleghany shore against the
current, then headed out and vigorously paddled towards the  Pittsburgh
side. Nearing the enemies' headquarters a skirmish would be opened by a
shower of stones sent into their ranks. If the Pittsburghers  were  not
sufficiently numerous to repel the invasion, the "Gray Eagle" was
landed. The majority of the  crew  pursued  the  flying  enemy  up  the
back streets, while the balance remained and hastily loaded up the best
of the driftwood from the piles gathered by their  antagonists.  When
their cargo was secured, the skirmishers were called in. All leaped
aboard, and the "Eagle" headed  for  Alleghany,  where  the  wood  was
carefully stored, far beyond the reach of a probable invasion by the
Pittsburghers.

About this time a new enterprise opened for the commander and crew of
the "Gray Eagle." The city commenced to pave the streets with large
round stones called "Pavers," many of which were found in pockets at the
bottom of the river. One day a contractor met Paul on the bank and said:

"Say, son, could not you boys gather a lot of pavers? I will buy them
from you and give you thirty cents per hundred."

The offer was eagerly accepted. Next day the "Eagle" was anchored with a
piece of rail-road iron, over a pocket, and the crew engaged in diving
through the transparent water to the bottom, where they would gather one
or two pavers, return to the top, and drop them into  the  boat.  Paul
had much difficulty in teaching his companions to keep their eyes open
while under water. This occupation  was  pursued  with  varying  success
during the summer months of '59. The contractor came down every week to
cart the "pavers" away; and many a dispute the boys had with  him  over
the count. The dispute was generally decided by the carts driving off,
and the contractor paying whatever he pleased.  The  boys  discovered  a
rich pocket right near the old Aqueduct bridge. They worked it
enthusiastically and were loath to leave such a find, until they had
overloaded the Eagle. When all the divers climbed aboard, the additional
weight almost swamped her. The strongest swimmers were compelled to go
overboard and resting their hands gently on the gunwale, they propelled
her by swimming toward the shore. They had not proceeded far when the
bottom  of the well-worn "Eagle" fell out and the cargo disappeared.
While the boys hung on to the framework of their wrecked craft, their
enemies  across the river observed their predicament and sallied forth
in a skiff to chastise them. The Alleghany boys swam for their own shore
as  rapidly  as possible. On gaining shallow water, they faced about on
their assailants and a battle was fought that was long remembered by the
inhabitants on both sides of the river. In the meantime, the wreck of
the "Gray Eagle" floated gently down to the Ohio, where the powerful
current  caught  it and hurried it off to the southward.

After the loss of the "Eagle" the boys resumed their old sport of
swimming and  gathering  wood.  About  this  time,  owing  no  doubt  to
the complaints of the riverside inhabitants, the city authorities
determined to stop all further rows and displays of nudity.  The  orders
against naked bathing were strictly enforced by a constable named Sam
Long. Before the boys got thoroughly acquainted with him, he  often
captured  an offender's clothing, which he detained until the boy came
ashore. Then Sam would escort him to the Mayor's office to receive a
stern reprimand, or his parents would be compelled to pay a small fine.
Paul was never caught, for he was always on the outlook for the watchful
Sam.  On  the constable's approach he would swim rapidly to his wardrobe
which always lay conveniently close to the water. As  it was  neither
weighty  nor large, he would pile it on his head, tie it with a string
under his chin; then swim swiftly off to the first pier of the bridge.
This was fully fifty yards out in the stream, and here Paul would sit on
the abutment rocks until Sam's patience was worn out and he would
depart.  Then  Paul would swim leisurely to the shore, dress himself and
go home.

Paul's elder brother, Michael, was a studious sedate boy who took no
pleasure in the sports and adventures of his aquatic brother.  But
Paul's glowing descriptions of the pleasures of plunging and paddling in
the cool, clear river, at last induced Michael to join in the watery
gambols. One warm afternoon he accompanied his brother to the riverside.
Paul slipped out of  his  clothes  and  was  soon  disporting  himself
in  the refreshing water, while he shouted encouraging remarks to his
hesitating brother to follow his example. Michael slowly disrobed and
cautiously stepped into the water. He was no swimmer; but being
surrounded by Paul and his companions, he grew bolder, waded farther out
from shore, where he was soon enjoying himself as heartily as any of
them.

Suddenly the cry of "Sam Long" was raised. Many of the boys seized their
clothing and disappeared in the direction of their homes. The  hardier
swimmers, with Paul, struck out for the abutment on the pier in their
usual way and poor  Michael  was  left  alone.  Sam  gently  gathered up
Michael's clothes, and retired to a lumber pile where he leisurely
seated himself and waited for the owner to land. Michael had often heard
of the terrible Sam Long so he did not go ashore, though Sam called him
frequently. At last growing weary, the  constable  walked  away  with
the captured wardrobe. As he disappeared, Michael started on a dead run
for home. His clothes were recovered; but it was some time  before
Michael was inclined to calculate how many cubic feet of bread Paul
would consume in a week, or to reckon how much time he lost  from  his
studies  by going into the water, as had been his custom. It is needless
to add that it was many moons ere Michael went swimming again.

It was the custom then, as it is at present, to run enormous tows of
coal barges, propelled by a powerful tug, from Pittsburgh to New
Orleans. These grim and heavily loaded fleets had an intense fascination
for young Paul. Many and many a day he spent in assisting the inland
sailors in lashing boat to boat and diving overboard after spars, etc.,
that had slipped into the river. He often dreamt of the  time  when  he
would  be large enough to go down the mighty Ohio and the great
Mississippi. He made many friends among the coal men and eagerly
devoured  their  stories of danger, of voyages down the river and of the
comical "darkies" in the far off south. Time after time he implored
permission from his  mother to go away on one of those barge trips, but
she would never consent. One day while assisting as usual on a fleet
that was about  to  depart,  a great, dark whiskered man named Tom, who
was his particular friend, said: "Why don't you come with us, Paul? We
will take good care of you  and bring you safe hme again."

The temptation was strong, but the thought of his anxious mother
deterred him. Tom  still  urged  and  the  wonderful  stories  he  told
about brilliant New Orleans and the mighty "Father of Waters" rapt
Paul's attention so that he did not at first notice that the tug  "Red
Lion"  was driving the huge fleet of barges ahead of her. Would he jump
into the river and swin ashore or would he go ahead?

"He who hesitates, is lost."

"Paul remained on board. Tom took him to the lookout far ahead on the
tow and Paul forgot all about home and gave himself up to the delight of
watching the swiftly passing banks while he listened to the swish, swish
of the water as it beat against the bows of the barges. He was seated
with the men on the watch, who passed the time telling stories and
laughing at rough jokes. When it was getting late his big friend Tom,
said:

"Now Paul, it's time you turned in. There's your bunk," pointing to a
shelf in the dark and damp look-out house. Paul prepared to retire while
the men continued their stories. The river-men of that time were rather
given to profanity, so their yarns were freely interspersed with oaths.
Suddenly Tom said in a loud whisper:

"Dry up! Don't you see the youngster is saying his prayers?"

A hush fell on the group, all looked around. Paul, kneeling on the damp,
dirty beam alongside his bunk, was repeating the  prayers  learned  at
his mother's knee.

With the return of daylight, the remorseful feeling of a runaway boy
came strongly upon him and Paul thoroughly realized how cruel he had
been to his dear mother. He begged his friend Tom to get him back or to
send a letter home. Tom dissuaded him from returning, but helped him
write a letter which was posted at Wheeling, Va. This informed his
mother that he was safe and would be taken good care of. Much relieved
in mind, Paul was soon enjoying again the beautiful scenery and bright
sunshine along the Ohio. His work was to carry the coffee to the forward
men  on  the lookout, and to help in many other little ways.

When nearing Evansville, Indiana, about seven hundred miles below
Pittsburgh, a great shock was felt on the fleet, and a  shower  of  coal
was sent flying into the air. The cry "Snag! Snag!" was heard on all
sides, the big engines of the "Red Lion" were stopped  and  reversed and
the headway of the fleet was checked, as it slowly swung to the shore.
All hands rushed to the damaged barge and found that a snag, a sunken
log, had penetrated the bottom. Fearing that she would go down and drag
other barges with her, she was detached and a line passed to the shore,
then luckily near. A crew shoveled the coal from the ugly rent. The snag
was cut away and vain attempts were made to pass a tarpaulin under  and
so stop the hole. Paul stood near his friend Tom, and suggested that he
dive under, take a rope with him, and so enable them  to  pass  a
canvass below.

"Do you think you can do it without drowning?" said Tom.

"I am certain," was the response.

Tom handed him the end of a rope. Without hesitation Paul sprang into
the water and dove under the then sinking barge. The rope was  hauled up
and another passed to him with which he repeated the operation. Two
ropes were fastened to the  tarpaulin,  two  more  fastened  to  the
other corners. The canvas was lowered into the river and the men on the
opposite side hauled it under the ragged hole. As the canvas covered it,
the inflow of water was instantly checked. With a loud cheer, the crew
sprang to the pumps. When the water got low enough,  the  carpenters
nailed planks over the hole. The barge and the valuable cargo of coal
were saved. In less than three hours from the time  the  snag  had
struck,  the injured barge was again lashed to the fleet and on her way
down the Ohio. Paul was the hero of the hour. The Captain of the "Red
Lion" solemnly transferred him from his damp and grimy quarters on the
head to the comfortable cabin and pilot house. He confessed to the kind
Captain that he had run away from home and how anxious he was about his
mother. That day the Captain wrote a glowing letter to Mrs. Boyton  and
posted  it  at Paducah, Kentucky. From that time, he took great pleasure
in teaching Paul how to steer, and many  other  arts  in  river  craft.
Paul  keenly enjoyed this first voyage down the Mississippi. The strange
scenes on the river were of deep interest; but  he  never  tired  of
watching  the slaves, either at work in the fields, or at play on the
banks of an evening.

At last the "Red Lion" and her tow were safely moored at New Orleans.
The Captain found a letter waiting from Mrs. Boyton requesting that Paul
be sent back by the first mail packet. While waiting her departure, the
Captain took Paul out to see the  great  city.  Among  many  places of
interest they visited that day, the slave mart at the foot of the fine
statue erected in honor of Henry Clay,  lived  long  in  Paul's memory.
Numbers of slaves were to be sold. The Captain and Paul pushed their way
well to the front, so  that  they  stood  near  the auctioneer.  With
feelings hard to describe, Paul saw slaves disposed of, singly and in
parties. Fathers, mothers, sons and daughters were bid for and sold,
and the critical purchasers examined them as if they were prize cattle.
While the sale proceeded, Paul spelled out the inscription on the
monument which said "that if he (Henry Clay,) could be instrumental in
eradicating this deepest stain, slavery, from our country, he  would  be
prouder than if he enjoyed the triumphs of a great conqueror." Even to
his childish mind this seemed sadly inconsistent  with  the
surroundings.  The auction concluded with the sale of three boys, who
seemed to be brothers, or at least close friends for they wept bitterly
when parted. As they moved away, Paul's eyes were full of tears at the
agony of the unhappy creatures, and turning to the Captain he said:

"Do you think this is right?"

"No," responded the Captain, "I'm darned if I do. It is an outrage and a
shame that human beings should be sold like cattle,  but--Great Scott!
Did you notice what big prices they brought?" then added reflectively;
"I'm blessed if it wouldn't pay me better to run a cargo of them down
from Pittsburgh, than a tow of coal barges!"

Late that evening the Captain and Paul returned. As they approached,
they saw an excited crowd, pushing their way through near the  boat.
They met the mate on the gang-plank keeping the people back.

"What's the matter?" demanded the Captain.

The mate explained that there had been a fight on the levee, and that
big Tom had been stabbed, he feared fatally. Paul rushed into  the cabin
where his friend lay helpless and gasping.

"Tom, Tom!" he wailed.

"Ah! Paul, my boy," faintly responded Tom, "I fear I'm about to slip my
cable. I want you lo help me say a few prayers. Just ask the good  Lord
not to be hard on me. I've been rough and careless all my life, but I
never meant to be really bad. You talk for me."

The doctor came in and pushed the weeping Paul aside. One half hour
later Tom had quietly floated out to eternity.

No one knew his full name or where his people were, so next day they
buried him, the entire crew attending the funeral, and  fervent  were
the prayers poured out then and often afterwards by little Paul for the
friend so much beloved and so deeply mourned.

The Captain secured passage for Paul on a Northern bound boat and bought
him many little presents ere wishing him God  speed.  Among  them  and
prized most highly, were two red birds and a young alligator. At five
o'clock that evening came the order: "All  aboard!  Haul  in  your gang-
planks!" Just then a weird musical chant was struck up by the slaves
working on the levee, which was answered by the boat's crew, as she
backed out into the river and headed away on her long northern trip.
Paul had snug quarters and spent much of his  time  feeding  the  red
birds  and playing with his alligator. He saw great fun ahead in the
tricks he hoped to spring on his sisters and friends with the cunning
little reptile. Whenever the boat made a landing, he was always on deck
watching the negroes, as they rolled bales of cotton down the steep
bluffs or struggled with the refractory hogs who refused to come aboard.
The loud commands and fierce oaths of the mate made him feel very
grateful that he was not a roustabout. About five weeks from the time he
had so thoughtlessly embarked on the coal fleet, he stood hesitatingly
half a  block  from  his mother's home, holding in his hand the cage
containing his red birds, while snugly stowed away in the bosom of his
shirt was his much cherished pet, the alligator. He was not sure of the
reception he would receive; but at length he steeled his nerves for
whatever was in store and made a rush for the house. The delighted
mother folded him in her arms and covered his face with kisses. His
brothers and sisters grouped around  with words of welcome for the
prodigal.

"Thank God that you are safe home again, dear Paul," exclaimed his
mother, as she embraced him again and again.

"But what's this?"

She started back, for she had felt something squirming inside of his
shirt.

"Oh, that's my dear little alligator," and Paul put in his hand and
pulled out his pet. His  sisters  ran  screaming  away.  His  mother
gazed sternly at him and said:

"Put out that ugly reptile!" Paul placed it tenderly on the floor beside
the red birds' cage and received from his fond mother a  well  merited
castigation. That evening, however, all was forgotten and Paul
entertained his family with stories of his adventures and was
doubtlessly looked upon by the little group, as a wonderful traveler or
a hardened young liar.

Paul's father, a traveling man, came home a few days after this. He had
a long consultation with his  wife  regarding  the  escapade  of  their
venturesome son. They came to the decision that they had better move
from the vicinity of the river and so wean him from his unnatural love
of the water. A week later found the family at the head of Federal
Street, about as far as they could get away from the river and still
remain  in the city. Paul spent his last night before moving on one of
his friends' woodpiles; (his own had been pirated during his absence,)
and bitterly bemoaned the fate that took him so far away from his
beloved element.

A rigid discipline was now pursued in regard to Paul. He was given a
certain space of time to go and return from  school.  After  that  he
was expected home and made to stay there. He studied hard all winter and
advanced rapidly. But he had to cross a bridge going to  and  coming
from school. He would always stop to gaze into the water he loved so
well, even if had to run to make up for lost  time.  Spring  came  on
and  the longing increased to enjoy again the piney smell of the newly
arrived rafts, to dive into the clear depths, and revisit  his  old
friends  the "pavers." He took off his shoes and felt the water's
temperature. "In two weeks," he thought with rapture, "In two weeks I
can take a plunge."

In less than two weeks he enjoyed this plunge and finally remembering
that he had to be at home by four o'clock, he scrambled onto a  raft and
discovered that his body was covered with some unknown, greasy, tar-like
substance. He could not get it off, and at last asked a raftsman, who
stood by, what it was:

"Why, son," answered the lumberman; "That is petroleum. Don't you know
that they struck oil at the head of the river and great  quantities  are
pouring into the Alleghany above. It will be a long time before the
river will be as clear as she used to be, and you, my little man, will
have a nice job getting that off your skin."

When Paul reached home, his mother's scrutiny revealed the fact that
something was wrong.

"Have you been swimming again, despite your promise?"

Paul murmured something that might be either "yes" or "no." His hat
removed, showed his hair quite damp further investigation revealed the
fact that his shirt was on wrong side out, while round his neck was a
well defined dark line from the oil cakes he struck while swimming
against the stream. His sister Teresa revenged herself that evening for
many a raid on her dolls by scrubbing him into the appearance of a
boiled  lobster, so that he would be neat and presentable for school
next day. Even this lesson did not teach him. One warm day while on his
way to  school,  he lingered so long on the bridge that the tower clock
struck ten, and then he argued that it would be useless to go until the
afternoon  session, when he could easily hoodwink his teacher with an
excuse. But the afternoon came, and  the  wild  boy  was  still  in  the
water,  too  deeply interested in the navigation of a plank to realize
that he was playing "hookey" and risking its shady consequences. About
two o'clock he  heard loud cries from the St. Clair Street bridge.
Looking up, he saw an excited crowd gathering. The object of their
excitement was a little boy who had waded out on a shallow bar above the
bridge until he had stumbled into deep water and was being carried away
by the  strong  current.  Paul caught one glimpse of him as he
disappeared and springing from his plank he swam out with a strong,
steady stroke to his assistance. The  crowd on the bridge shouted loud
cries of encouragement. As Paul reached the spot where the body went
down, he could find no traces of him. A man  on the bridge shouted:

"A little farther down! A little farther down! I can see him at the
bottom."

Paul swam in the direction indicated and at the cry, "there, there,"
dove to the bottom like a seal. He came directly on  the  body  which
was doubled up against a large boulder. He grasped it by the arm and
rose with it to the  surface.  Loud  ringing  cheers  from  the  crowd
above, encouraged him. He swam with one arm, supporting the body with
the other. They were being rapidly carried away down the  stream,  when
a  boat which had been sent out, reached the almost exhausted boy. Paul
and the unconscious boy were taken ashore and conveyed to the back  room
of  a saloon where a doctor soon revived both. He then proposed that,
some token of recognition should be presented by the  assembled  crowd
to  the brave little fellow who had made the rescue. Paul's hat was
taken and soon filled to the brim with silver. Then the two boys were
loaded  into an express wagon and escorted by a policeman, they started
for home. When the wagon reached the house of the boy  who  had  been
rescued,  the policeman lifted him out carefully and carried him in,
while the mother's affrighted cries alarmed the neighborhood. The
officer  assured  her that there was no danger, so she grew calmer and
helped to roll her son into a warm blanket and tuck him snugly in bed.
The  old  grandmother, who was blind, heard the story and asked that
Paul be brought to her. Her trembling hands were passed over his face
and head. She  blessed  him fervently and then to the delight of the
grinning urchins, looking in at the door and to Paul's intense
embarrassment, she kissed  him  several times. At last the policeman
told him to come on and Paul and his silver continued their homeward
journey. When Mrs. Boyton saw her truant  son under police escort, she
turned pale, but the officer called out, "Don't be frightened, ma'am,
he's all right. You ought to be  proud  of  this boy," and he told her
the story of the rescue and handed over the silver. The mother's eye's
beamed with pleasure as she listened. She  praised her gallant little
son and thanked the officer for his kindness. After he was gone she put
the silver carefully away and interviewed the  hero, as often before,
with a shingle.

"Not only for playing hookey," she said; "but for going into the water
at all."

The little fellow rescued that day is Thomas McCaffery, now a member of
the Alleghany City Fire Department. Many years afterwards he gave  Paul
a gold medal in remembrance of their first meeting.

In vacation Paul started out to look for work, for with all his wildness
he was industrious. He secured a place in a paper box factory  at  the
princely salary of fifty cents a week. His business was to lower great
packages of boxes from the upper story to the ground floor.  He  thought
how delightful it would be to go down himself on the rope. One day he
induced a small boy who worked near, pasting, to mind the windlass while
he descended by hanging on above the usual pits of boxes. The sensation
was novel and pleasing and it became exciting when the boy above leaned
over and shouted: "The boss is coming, look out for yourself. I'll have
to go." An instant later Paul and the boxes  crashed together  on  the
bottom floor. The proprietor dragged him out of the ruin he had made and
assisted him energetically to the street, without even the hint  of  a
recommendation.

As Paul slowly and painfully wended his way home, a lady called him:
"Little boy, do you want a job?" Paul said he did and was put to work.
He had to sprinkle the street and keep the brick sidewalk clean in front
of her house. He was happily aided by a long hose, so that he thoroughly
enjoyed his new work and gave entire satisfaction. About ten days after,
Mrs. C., his employer sent him to escort her son to  the house  of  a
relative living in Lawrenceburg, a village a few miles up the river from
Pittsburgh. She warned Paul to be careful of her little boy, who was a
delicate child about his own age and gave him street car fare to pay his
way up and down. Her last instructions were to  leave Harvey  at  his
aunt's and return as soon as possible. When Paul was about to take the
car back, he thought of a pleasanter way, one in which he could save his
car fare, too. So he went to the river where he selected a large sized
plank and a piece of driftwood for a paddle. Then  he  piloted  himself
down in safety and was back in time. A few days later, the trusty little
messenger was sent to Lawrenceburg to bring Harvey  home.  Instead  of
taking the cars as instructed, Paul induced his charge to go with him to
the river. The little boy was very timid and refused to  embark  on  a
steering oar that Paul found near the shore. A steering oar consists of
a plank securely pinned into a spar about thirty feet long and used  on
stern and bow of a raft to guide it. Paul at last half forcibly seated
him on a block of wood on the steering oar and  procuring  a  pole  they
started on their voyage. All went well until they had passed under the
old Aqueduct Bridge. Then a crowd of Pittsburgh boys who were in a skiff
recognized Paid as the leader of their enemies from Alleghany and opened
up hostilities. Paul bravely kept them off with his pole and  whenever
the chance offered propelled it nearer and nearer to his own side of the
river. When almost ashore they rammed the steering oar with the bow of
their skiff, struck Paul with the oar and tumbled poor Harvey into the
river. Paul never thought  of  himself;  but  seizing  the  son  of  his
aristocratic mistress, he swam in for the shore, then only a few feet
away. The Pittsburgh boys were satisfied with the prize they had
captured in the steering oar and towed it away to their own side of the
river. They were followed,  however,  by  a  shower  of  rocks  hurled
by  the infuriated Paul. A sad looking pair greeted the maid who
answered their ring. Paul turned young Harvey over to her, then sneaked
around to  the alley to await developments. Hearing loud lamentations
coming from the direction of Mrs. C.'s room, he started  for  home
where  he  told  his mother that the work was too severe for him and
fearing the lady would refuse to let him go, he left without bothering
her for a reference.

About this time the war of the rebellion broke out and the fever burned
fiercely in Pittsburgh and vicinity. Paul  longed  to  join  the  great
bodies of troops that were being hurried to the front, especially so,
when he saw boat loads of his old friends, the gallant  "buck-tail" boys
coming down the river to enlist. He spent all his spare time hanging
around the headquarters of the forming  regiments.  One  day  he asked
a recruiting officer if he needed a drummer boy. "You are pretty small,
sonny," said the soldier, "can you drum?" "No," said  Paul,  "but I  can
learn mighty quick." Pleased with the answer, the soldier took him to
his headquarters and said: "Here is a little volunteer." Paul was
closely questioned and untruthfully assured the officers in charge that
his mother would be glad to get rid of him.  That  night  he  was
enrolled  in Colonel Cass' Regiment. Next day he began his drum
practice, an exercise that was rudely interrupted by the appearance of
his mother, who  lead the "warrior bold" home by the ear.




CHAPTER II.

His parents now decided to send Paul away to school. The college they
selected was situated in the heart of the Alleghany Mountains about four
miles from the Pennsylvania Railroad. It was far from any water course
or river, and surrounded by a  dense  forest  of  pines.  Paul's mother
accompanied him to the college. She told the faculty of his peculiar
passion for the water and the dread she had of losing him. Mrs. Boyton
was assured that her boy would be taken good care of. Paul was permitted
to escort her as far as the village where she took the stage for the
rail road again. Their farewell was most affectionate. Paul cried
bitterly, not only for the parting from his mother whom he loved so
well, but  for the feeling that he was being exiled for all his crimes
and misdemeanors. The fall session had not yet begun so he had ample
time  to  become acquainted with the few boys who were already at the
college and to explore the dark pine woods that seemed a new world to
him.  Paul  inquired eagerly if there was any water in the vicinity. The
boys told him there was a place called  the  "swimming  hole"  about two
miles  from  the college. Next day he coaxed some of his companions to
show him the way. He found a pond,  little  larger  than  a  hole,
surrounded  by  heavy vegetation and inhabited by a colony of frogs. He
was soon swimming in its depths and had induced two or  three  of  the
boys  to  follow  his example. Day after day he visited the hole and
made out to enjoy a swim; but he always thought longingly of the far
off, bright Alleghany.

One day a teamster who sometimes came to the college, told Paul of a
sheet of water that was much larger than the swimming hole. He  called
it "Bruce's Dam." Next morning Paul and a Philadelphia boy named
Stockdale, who was his particular chum, obtained permission to go out of
bounds. They had managed during breakfast to appropriate a sufficient
supply of bread and butter for all day. They started out to find Bruce's
dam.  A long and weary tramp they had over the mountains. They turned
aside often to chase the gray squirrels that abounded in that country,
and  they wasted much time in a fruitless attempt to dig out a red fox,
that had crossed their path and shot down a hole in the ground. They
were so long reaching the dam that they thought they must have been
misdirected. They were about to return, when Paul suddenly said, "Hark!
I think  I  hear water!" They listened intently for a few seconds. A
sound again came through the woods. They struck out a little to the
right and were soon  at the long-sought, dam. It was a body of water
about one hundred yards wide and five hundred yards long. Enormous pine
stumps  protruded  through the surface. There was a miserable looking
saw-mill situated at the lower end. Two men were employed in drawing out
logs and  ripping  them  up into boards. Paul tittered a joyful cry as
he perceived that the water was both clear and deep. Hastily he divested
himself of his clothing and "Stockie" slowly followed his example. As
they stood naked on the bank, before their plunge, a snake shot out
almost from under then feet,  and swam gracefully over the surface to a
stump a little distance off. That was enough for "Stockie," who resumed
his clothes. Paul  did  not  like the idea of snakes in the water, still
he had traveled far for a swim and he was resolved to have it and so he
plunged headlong in.  Round  and round among the stumps he swam. He saw
several snakes and also a number of water lizards. After his bath, Paul
and "Stockie" went down  to  the mill and had some talk with the men
engaged there. The latter assured them that the snakes and water lizards
were  perfectly  harmless.  This restored "Stockie's" courage. He agreed
to try the water before leaving, provided Paul would go  in with  him.
The  two  chums  had  a  long, delightful swim and finally, as sunset
approached, they suddenly thought that they might be needed at the
college. It was dark  when  they  got back. They both received a severe
lecture for their long absence. Bruce's dam was several times revisited
and always with great  enjoyment.  At last vacation was over and these
pleasant pilgrimages came to an end. Paul kept the promise made to his
mother. During study  time  he  applied himself with all his energies to
the task before him and so rapidly increased his store of knowledge;
but, he was  also  learning  many  things outside the school room. The
loneliness and surroundings of the college increased the natural
wildness of  his  nature.  When  recreation  time approached, Paul would
pass the sign to the ever ready "Stockie." Then he would obtain
permission to leave the room on some  pretext,  and  the other, by some
clever maneuver, would soon be after him. Then down to the dark, cool
pine woods to visit their "figure four" traps  which  they had set in
different places to catch squirrels. This trap consisted of a square box
placed on a piece of board and set  with  a  little  wooden trigger.
When a squirrel would enter to get the walnut fastened inside, he would
spring the trap and would not succeed in cutting his  way  out before
his young captor's arrival. They would slip a pillow-case, furnished
unconsciously by the college, under one corner of the box,  turning it
off the bottom board until a little opening was made into the bag. The
squirrel of course would jump in, and was grabbed and  twisted  until it
was squeezed down to one corner. Then his captors would get a firm grip
on the back of his neck. If the squirrel proved to be a  young  one,
they would put on a collar and little chain, that they had always ready,
and keep him to train for a pet. Once  Paul  caught  a  gray  squirrel
kitten so small and young that he had to feed it on milk and crushed
walnuts. He called it May. The tiny creature lived in his pocket and
desk and shared his bed at night. It would sit on the off page of his
book whilst he studied and comb its little whiskers  and  brush  its
tail  in perfect contentment. Every one marveled at the affection of his
pet and at the control he had over it. Paul would let it loose in the
woods, it would run up a tree and at his call, "Come May," it would
return at once and with a chuckle drop into his pocket. Paul kept this
squirrel until after he had left college. The crowded streets of the
city seemed to bewilder it, and it jumped from his pocket to the
sidewalk. A man  passing struck it with a cane and killed it. Paul
grieved long over his pet; but from this experience he acquired a  great
control  over  animals  and always had a supply in hand to train. He
carried snakes and bugs and mice and lizards in his pockets and at one
time had a white rat that  came very near to filling the place of the
lost May. If the boys captured an old squirrel, they generally let it
go; but sometimes it  was  retained for another purpose.

It would be taken back to the college and that evening put down through
a knot hole in the study-hall floor. The hole was carefully covered  by
a small piece of board with the leg of Paul's desk to keep it down. Next
morning when all would be deep in their studies and a profound silence
filled the hall, Paul would quietly slip the board away from the hole.
Attracted by the light, the squirrel would soon come out.  The  studious
(?) boys who were posted, kept one eve on their books and one on the
hole. When the squirrel appeared, as it usually did in a short time
these would start up with well feigned cries of alarm. In a moment the
entire study-hall was in an uproar, all pursuing the bewildered
squirrel.  The first or second time this occurred, the staid professor
took active part in the exciting chase. The frequent recurrence of
squirrel  hunts  in the study-hall awakened suspicion in the minds of
the faculty. An investigation was made, Paul and Stockie were called to
the president's  room and interviewed regarding squirrels and their
habits. After this, the study-hall was no longer  disturbed  by  these
little  denizens  of  the forest.

About the last time that Paul went swimming to Bruce's dam, a decayed
thorn was driven into his foot, a portion  of  which  he  was  unable to
remove. This troubled him occasionally. During the month of November the
foot commenced to swell in an alarming manner. He had to remain in the
dormitory for over a week. While he was still an invalid, a box arrived
from home full of cakes, candies, preserves and many other goodies dear
to a school-boy's heart. In the box was also a present from his younger
brother. It had been packed in without the knowledge of his mother.  It
was a large Chinese firecracker. Paul carefully concealed this precious
gift until a grand occasion would come to fire it. At recess  many  of
the boys came up to see him, and incidentally to share in the delicasies
he had received. Stockie came also and told Paul that their crowd  had
discovered a tale-bearer in the person of a youth from Johnstown, Penn.
He wound up by adding:

"And how are we to fix him?"

Paul answered mysteriously: "Leave it to me. I have it; bring me all the
string you can find."

From day to day Stockie produced liberal supplies of the desired
article. No doubt most of it belonged to the boy whose  innocent pastime
was that of flying kites during recess. Paul wound this string firmly
and tightly around the Chinese cracker  until  it  had  assumed
considerable proportions. He argued on the principle that, if paper
resisted the force of the explosion, the additional binding of string
would cause a much louder one. The bomb was at last completed and
Stockie received a hint to keep his ears open for music that night. The
little iron bed  of  the doomed talebearer was not far distant from
Paul's, and between them was a stove in which burned a brisk fire every
night to drive out the chill mountain air. When all were asleep, Paul
slipped from his bed, and touched the fuse to the red hot side  of  the
stove.  Then  he  placed  the ignited bomb under the tell-tales bed and
hastily scrambled back to his own. He had just time to roll himself up
in the  blankets,  when  there was a flash and terrible explosion. The
bed of the tell-tale turned a  complete  somersault,  while  the  entire
building  trembled  with  the concussion and a shower of broken glass
was scattered around. No serious damage was done; but Paul was horrified
and frightened half  to  death at the result of his first essay with
explosives. The boys in the dormitory were only too glad of an excuse
for  excitement.  They  immediately began the usual battle with pillows
accompanied with the wildest yells and whoops, until they were suddenly
quieted  by  the  entrance  of  the officials. No one could find out the
culprit, so the investigation was postponed until morning. Classes were
suspended next day. Every student, including the invalid, was present in
the study-hall. The entire faculty sat in judgment. The  president
opened  the  meeting  with  a  severe lecture, during which he quoted
that it "was better that ten guilty ones should escape rather than that
one innocent person should suffer."  He called urgently upon the guilty
ones to stand up and declare themselves. His invitation was not
accepted.

"Now boys, you know that it is a strict dormitory rule that no one there
shall speak above a whisper. The noise you made last night  was  heard
distinctly in the village a mile away. All of you who did not break the
rule last night put up your hands."

Every boy's hand in the study hall was at once raised. The president
looked perplexed, and said: "Perhaps you  misunderstood  me.  To  make
it plain to you, I want every boy who did not raise his voice above a
whisper after retiring last night to stand up."

The first on their feet were Paul and Stockie, whose good example was
followed without any exception by every boy in the school. The president
was dumbfounded. He shook his head sadly. After a brief consultation
with the professors  he  remarked.  "The  young  men  now before  me
are grievously lacking either in understanding or veracity." Numerous
were the mishaps that befell Paul and his companion Stockie, owing  to
their love of wandering through the woods. When they were missed, a
professor was generally sent after the  fugitives.  In visiting  their
squirrel traps they often separated, Stockie examining one trap, Paul
another. They would appoint a place of rendezvous, close to some well
known  giant pine. The one to arrive first would call the other by a
loud whistle in close imitation of a  quail.  The  other would  answer
by  a  similar whistle. One day when about to mount the tree and give
his usual signal of recall, Paul discovered the professor, who had been
sent after them, approaching. Quickly he climbed into the tree and
concealed himself in the dense foliage. At this moment he heard
Stockie's  familiar  signal quite near the rendezvous, and to his
dismay, the professor, hidden behind a  tree  close  by,  repeated  the
quail  call,  thus  leading  the unsuspecting Stockie to his doom. As
Stockie neared the tree in which Paul was hidden, he  shouted:  "I've
got  two!"  The  professor  stepped forward and said: "I have one!"

Paul could distinctly over-hear the professor question Stockie in regard
to his chum's whereabouts, all knowledge of which the  latter  loyally
but untruthfully denied. He had grasped the situation at a glance. The
professor with his captive remained a long  while  and  the  latter  was
compelled to repeat the quail call time after time in hopes that the
other victim would respond. But the moaning of  the  pines  was  the
only answer. Finally the professor and his prisoner started for the
college. Paul slid down the tree and taking a shorter cut, was deep in
his books when they entered. Though strongly suspected, he escaped that
time, the poor captive receiving a double dose. Stockie was generally
unfortunate enough to get more than his share of punishment, but he was
thoroughly loyal to his friends and never murmured. It was customary,
when  a  boy had misbehaved himself or broken any rule, to send him to
the president's room where either reprimand or a thrashing awaited  him.
One  day  a professor called Stockie during recess and said:

"As you are a good, swift runner, I want you to go over to the
President's room and ask for his letters. I want to put them in  the
mail  bag. The coach will be starting in a few minutes."

The president was not in his room and Stockie availed himself of the
chance to view the pictures hanging around the walls.  The  president
had just made the discovery that several of the boys had utterly ruined
some growing tobacco that he had been experimenting on, so he  was  in
bad humor when he entered his sanctum.

"What! You here again?"

And without permitting the astonished Stockie to speak he began to
administer a severe thrashing. The door was  opened  by  the  professor
who wanted the mail.

"Has he been in mischief already? Why I told him a few moments ago to
come here and get  your  letters."  "Oh,"  exclaimed  the  president, "I
thought he had been sent here as usual, for punishment. Well, if he does
not deserve it now, he certainly will before the week is out."

Paul had organized a company of choice spirits who were known by the
title of the 'Wild  Geese'.  Each  member  named  himself  after  his
own particular hero, such as Dick Turpin, Jack Shepard, Capt.  Kidd  and
other  distinguished  gentleman  freebooters.  The  headquarters  of the
association was in an abandoned log house about three miles from the
college. On half holidays the  company  would  escape  out  of  bounds
by different ways and assemble at headquarters. The cabin consisted of
one large earthen floor room with a loft above. The stairs  leading  up
to this loft had been cut away and a light ladder that could be easily
hauled up, substituted. The aperture closed down by a rough trap door
made for the purpose. This was done to afford concealment, in case any
of the professors should come looking for them, or protection against a
rival organization of larger boys, known as the "Wild Hens." When the
company assembled, it was customary for Paul, who was their  chosen
chief,  to detail parties to different duties. While some would be
cutting and collecting wood to burn in the huge fire-place in the lower
story,  others would be off through the surrounding farms on a forage
for chickens, potatoes, apples, etc., etc.  All  the  money  in  the
society  would  be entrusted to a committee of the most reliable
members. These would be dispatched to the village store to  purchase
cheese,  crackers,  ginger-bread and other delicacies for the banquet.
The village store was owned by an old fellow by the name of Philip
Hardtsoe. He had  expelled  both Paul and Stockie from his territory on
account of an incident which had happened some time previous. The two
chums went in one day to buy a few cents worth of candy. They were
difficult to please and insisted that Philip should hand them some from
a jar on an upper shelf. While his back was turned Paul reached far into
a barrel where a few nice, red apples lay on the bottom. As he balanced
on his stomach over the chime  of  the barrel, Stockie saw his
opportunity for mischief and gave him a push that toppled him down on
his head. The noise caused  old  Philip  to  turn around. He thought the
lads only intended to fool him when they asked for the candy. He rushed
from behind the counter, easily capturing  Paul, who was helpless in the
barrel, while Stockie dashed through the door roaring with laughter.
This was the reason that Philip would never  allow either boy in his
store, so Paul and Stockie had to buy their candy by proxy.


But to return to the "Wild Geese." As the various committees reported,
they would find a roaring fire and everything  ready  for  cooking.  The
banquet table was generally prepared in the upper story or loft and
consisted of two long boards on trestles. The seats were  round  blocks
of wood. The chief luxuries of the banquet itself, besides the store
supplies, were chicken and  potatoes.  The  chickens  had  been prepared
by rolling them in mud; then baking them. When fully cooked the feathers
came off. A sharp knife ripped them open  and  the  baked entrails  were
easily removed. The potatoes were simply roasted in the hot ashes. The
commoner articles of the banquet menu, such as bread, butter,  salt  and
pepper were always appropriated from the college table. The first
banquet that ever took place in the old log cabin followed  the
election  of officers. Paul was unanimously elected chief and escorted
to the head of the table. Stockie and Billy O'Meara,  of Washington,  as
first  and second lieutenants, sat on either side. It is doubtful if
ever a pirate captain looked with more pride on  his gallant  crew,  or
if  a  real banquet was ever more thoroughly enjoyed by the
participants.


Several times during the winter the "Wild Geese" were attacked by the
"Wild Hens." They were always repulsed excepting one day when the latter
were re-enforced by an alien crowd. The "Wild Geese" defended their
cabin bravely, but, were driven foot by foot, until they wore compelled
to retreat to the loft and draw up the ladder. The lower portion of the
cabin was in full possession of the besiegers, who demolished
everything they could lay their hands on, with much gusto. They did
their utmost to pry up the trap door, but were beaten  back. Suddenly
to  the  "Wild Geese's" surprise, the lower part of the cabin was
abandoned by the Hens. They thought it a ruse to draw them out, so I
they lay quiet for some time. There were no windows in the loft. Bye and
bye Paul knocked a hole through the shingles of the roof. Protruding his
head he saw the  Hens in a wild flight towards the forest. He could see
no cause for this until he knocked a hole through the other side of the
cabin roof.  What  he beheld was not calculated to cheer his heart.
Eight or ten of the professors were almost on the cabin. There was no
time or chance  to  escape. Paul commanded all hands to lie down and
keep still while himself and lieutenants sat on the trap door. The house
was quickly  entered  by  the professors. Remarks such as "They must be
here," "The fire is still burning," "See the chicken feathers," etc.,
etc. ascended to the  trembling urchins above.


"Is there no loft or upper story?" said one finally.


"I don't think so," responded another; "There is no means of getting up
there. They have all left. Here is their trail in the snow  leading  to
the woods."


All would have been well with the "Wild Geese" had not the unlucky
Stockie at this moment, given a loud sneeze. At  which  some  of  the
minor members of the company giggled. The chief looked sternly at the
culprit. He saw Stockie about to repeat the involuntary sneeze and
grabbed  him by the nose and throat. Too late! The noise had been heard
below and the imperative command was given to "come down." Slowly the
trap-door  was opened and the ladder descended. Then a scuffle ensued to
see who would go down last. The consequence was that two or three of the
Geese  went down at the same time. Slowly and sorrowfully the prisoners
marched to the college where to add to their misery they beheld the
faces  of  the smiling and triumphant "Wild Hens." These had regained
"bounds" without being discovered and their loud cackling  grated
discordantly  on  the nerves of the late banqueters. That evening,
singly and in pairs were the "Wild Geese" called over and interviewed by
the president.  On  their return to the study hall their flushed faces
and reddened eyes accompanied by rapid, mysterious signals, gave warning
to the  waiting  ones  of the wrath to come. Paul and Stockie were the
last to be summoned. They found the president and the prefect of studies
in the star chamber.


"Be seated" was the brief command. "Do either of you know anything about
a secret organization called the 'Wild Geese'?"


The culprits saw that the customary denial of everything would not
answer in this case. They  acknowledged  that  they  had  heard  of such
a society. The President was satisfied that he had learned from the
other members about all the information that he needed, and that the
present interview would not add much to his knowledge, so he turned to
the two boys with a kindly smile and gave them a fatherly lecture on the
error of their ways. He urged them to promise that in the future they
would be more faithful  to  study  and  more  obedient  to  the rules
of  the institution. His kind tones made Paul and Stockie feel ashamed
and inspired them with the hope that this gentle lecture  would be
their  only punishment. They glanced congratulations at each other out
of the corners of their eyes.


"Now boys," said the president in conclusion, "you have promised me
faithfully to mend your conduct. To keep this promise fresh in your
memory, I have something to give you. My motto is to leave the best for
the last,  so  Master  Paul  will  retain  his  seat.  Take  off  your
jacket, Stockdale."


Disappointment and dismay were depicted on the two faces. Stockie made
many fruitless attempts to unbutton his jacket, unbuttoning two  buttons
and buttoning one. At last the president's patience gave out and he
rushed on his victim with the strap. Now, in the room was an  old-
fashioned bed, in which ropes were fastened from side to side, in lieu
of slats. To escape the strap, Stockie dove under this bed. The
president, who was somewhat rheumatic, could not reach him very well, so
he called upon the prefect and Paul to assist him in removing the bed.
They moved it from side to side around the room in vain, for Stockie was
holding on to the bed cords. Paul felt like an executioner to his
friend;  but  life  is sweet. He glanced furtively at the prefect and
saw him convulsed with smothered laughter. The  president  made  frantic
attempts  to  dislodge Stockie and Paul dashed through the door to
liberty. Later, Stockie appeared and cheered Paul with the information
that  his  punishment  would come when he had gone to bed. Paul looked
the situation over and at last thought of a plan of escape. He sent
Stockie into the hall to call out an unsuspicious youth whom he named.
This boy soon appeared and Paul told him all about the tribulations of
the "Wild Geese." He  said  he  was certain he knew the informer, the
villain who had brought all this dire disaster. He had a plan to punish
the tale-bearer.  He  would  like  to exchange beds that night with his
listener, so that he would be near the villain's bed. Then he would put
a handful  of  red  pepper  over  the mouth and nose while he snored.
Was his friend willing? His friend thought the cause a just one and
readily agreed to the proposed arrangement. That night the innocent
youth slipped into Paul's bed and the avenger joyfully nestled in his,
at the other side of  the  dormitory.  About  an hour after the boys had
retired, a tall figure, with stealthy step passed in the direction of
Paul's bed. There was a  suppressed  scuffle  and the clear sound of a
strap coming in contact with its victim, while a low, stern voice was
heard saving: "Not a word sir;  not  a  word.  Don't dare to raise your
voice above a whisper. You deserve it all and more." After a few moments
Professor Justice retired with  the  same  stealthy step. There was
convulsive sobbing in Chief Paul's bed, and the other boys covered their
heads with  their  blankets  in  dread  of  a  similar visitation.


The boy who suffered that night is now a brilliant judge and well known
politician. But he always  believed  that  he  had  been  punished  for
changing beds and wondered not a little that his companion had escaped
similar castigation.


The boys were obliged to rise very early in the morning. The first duty
of the day was to proceed to the  chapel  for  prayers,  and  religious
instruction. But many of the lads preferred to gather around the red hot
stove of the study hall where they could tend to their devotions  with
more liberty and comfort than in the chilly chapel. If they were missed,
a professor was sent to ascertain their whereabouts. He was  generally
discovered in time by the boy detailed by his companions as look out.
The study hall and dormitories formed a building separate from  the rest
of the college. As the professor approached from the main building, the
boys would leap from the low windows of the study hall into  the snow.
Sometimes the professor was suspicious and would reconnoiter outside the
study hall; but the boys were alert and as he passed around a corner,
they would get around another and so they often escaped to the chapel.
One morning the president missed  several  of  his jewels  and  started
himself for the study hall determined	to capture them. As usual, the
boys clambered through the windows and  escaped  in different
directions always keeping the hall between them and their pursuer.
Stockie, Billy O'Meara and Paul adopted the old rule of sneaking away
from  one  corner of the hall, while the president advanced around
another. The pursuit was very close, for the president was sure from the
tracks in  the  snow, that some of the boys were dodging him.


Stockie and O'Meara broke for the shelter of another building; but Paul
continued to dodge around the study hall. Once the president failed  to
appear at the expected corner. Paul feared that he might be doubling on
him and so crept cautiously on all fours back to the corner he had left
to take a look around that side of the building. As he warily put his
head out to take the observation it came in hard contact with that of
the president, who had adopted Paul's own tactics to catch him. The
situation was so ludicrous that even that austere gentlemen burst out
laughing and Paul scampered away to the chapel.


A favorite resort for the boys during winter weather was a barn where
they had rare sport tumbling over the great  quantities  of  hay  in the
loft. A party of them were one day enjoying this pastime, when a stern
voice below commanded them to "descend immediately," supplemented by the
ominous and oft repeated expression, "I know you all, I, have your
names." Some of the boys descended, but Paul and four  companions
clambered out on the roof of a wagon shed. This roof was very steep and
was covered with about three feet of snow. Here they squatted  down  and
awaited results. The professor took the names of the boys who had
descended and ordered them to the study hall. This gentleman, by the
way,  was  very successful in discovering culprits, and was known
facetiously by the boys as the "blood-hound." He was sure he had not
found all  the  truants, but he saw they were not in the loft, so he
began a tour outside of the barn to ascertain how they had escaped.
Slowly  he  walked  around  the wagon shed carefully scrutinizing every
place in which he thought they might be concealed. The snow, loosened by
the heat and extra  weight  of the unlucky boys, gave way and
precipitated them over the head and shoulders of the astounded
professor.


One form of punishment inflicted by the faculty was termed "corrence."
The culprit was deprived of his meals mid compelled to remain  at  study
in the hall while the others enjoyed their repast. This was a severe
punishment to healthy, growing boys, whose appetites were whetted by the
keen mountain air. On the "corrence" list one day appeared the names of
William O'Meara and Paul Boyton. This  was  no  infrequent occurrence.
These boys did not seem much distressed. There was a secret
understanding among the then suppressed "Wild Geese"  that  none  of
their  number should suffer the pangs of hunger while provisions could
be  obtained  from  the  table.  The  faculty  must  have  found  out
this  fraternal understanding, for on the day in question every boy was
examined as he left the refectory and everything eatable in his
possession confiscated. The day was hard for Billy and Paul. By night
they were wild with hunger and vowed to make a raid  on  the  kitchen or
die.  The  kitchen  in question was in the deep basement of the main
building, lit up by small windows fully six feet above the floor. When
the  cooks  had  retired, Billy and Paul made their way to one of these
windows. They pried it open. Paul persuaded his companion to crawl into
the  window  head  first, while he lowered him by holding on to his legs
and feet. He instructed Billy that when the floor was reached he could
with the aid of  a  chair easily pass out the much needed supplies.
Billy began his descent. When lowered as far as Paul could reach he
said:


"I can't feel the floor, pull me up."


Just then there was a deep growl heard in the kitchen and footsteps
approaching from the outside. Paul did not have time or  strength  to
haul Billy up again, so letting him go by the run, he started to his
feet and disappeared in the darkness. Billy was seized by a large
Newfoundland dog that held him fast until discovered by the cooks who
came down to find out the cause of the noise.


The refectory of the college was a long, narrow room with a table
extending its entire length. Each boy was supposed to stand in his place
with folded hands and bowed head, while grace was being said by the
professor at the end of the table. But such keen appetites could hardly
wait for the blessing to be called. While one hand was devoutly raised,
in case the professor would look down along the table, the other grasped
a  fork and all eyes were fixed of the dishes of meat. Smothered
exclamations of "That's my piece with the fat;" "The middle piece is
mine,"  "I  like the lean," etc., passed along the line. As the amen
rang out, every fork was darted into the longed for meat, as  a  harpoon
is  sent  into  a whale.

Not far from the college lived an irascible old gentleman who owned a
rich farm and some very fine horses of which he took  great  pride. Paul
and his chums looked on these lovely animals with envious eyes, and
often wished that they could capture one and enjoy a ride. One day
Stockie and Paul went to the woods at the bottom of a field that led by
a gentle ascent to the farm house. They had with them a pillow-slip half
full of oats. They were trying to induce a magnificent looking colt to
approach them. The colt was shy, but the oats were  tempting. He  came
near enough to taste them and submitted gently to the boy's caresses and
even permitted them to lead him around by the forelock. "Now Stockie,"
said Paul, "I will hold him by the nose and mane. You jump from that
stump and take the first ride."

With a spring, Stockie mounted the animal's back. The colt broke from
Paul and dashed madly away, Stockie clinging  to  him  like  a  cat. The
creature never stopped in its mad career until it had reached the farm
yard. With a terrific leap it unseated Stockie,  who  tumbled uninjured
but paralyzed with fear, into a pile of manure from which he was dragged
by the enraged farmer. As his friend disappeared, Paul made a  beeline
for the college. Soon after poor Stockie was brought in by the farmer
and delivered into the hands of the president. It was  some time  before
the victim was able to sit at his desk with any degree of comfort.

With such adventures as these, two years of college life glided by and
then the parting came. Paul had progressed rapidly in  his  classes  for
his was a character that applied itself to books, as devotedly as it did
to play. His best loved study was navigation, and he  often  surprised
the gray-haired old professor by his knowledge in this quarter. His
open, fearless nature had endeared him to  his  teachers  and  despite
the punishments; he had learned to love the college life so his going
was viewed with regret by both sides. The college was  in  its  infancy
when Paul's name was on the pupil's roll. He returned to visit it some
years ago, to find it grown into one of the great educational
institutions of the land. Many of our brightest and best men lovingly
roll it their Alma Mater. The venerable president received him with open
arms.  He  put Paul's picture in his gallery of the boys who were a
credit to the institution, and both talked over old times and  life's
many  changes  with emotion, and laughed heartily over certain well
remembered experiences. Paul felt a deep pang of remorse at the praise
and the welcome, for his memory bore another record.

During Paul's sojourn at college, his family had moved from Alleghany to
New York. His father was an importer  of  sea-shells,  corals,  marine
curiosities anal oriental goods, of which he made annual sales in the
chief cities of the country. He took Paul with him and gave him the
first lesson in business. Travel suited Paul immensely; but business was
irksome and the civil  war  was  still  raging.  Stirring  accounts  of
the conflicts in the south, and the martial air that pervaded the entire
country, filled Paul's soul with longing to go to the front.




CHAPTER III.

On the morning of April 15th, 1864, young Boyton presented himself at
the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and was enrolled in the United States Navy  as a
sailor before the mast. After a few weeks drilling he was transferred to
the United States Steamer, Hydrangea, Captain W.  Rogers  in command.
Paul was now in his fifteenth year. He had no difficulty in passing the
scrutiny of the enlisting officers. He was of a powerful build and very
muscular. His outdoor life in the woods and on the river made him look
older than he really was. The Hydrangea was ordered to Fortress  Monroe,
and Paul received his baptism of fire while the steamer was running up
the James river past Malvern  Hill,  where  a confederate  battery  was
stationed. Much has been written about the war, and as this is simply a
story of adventure, it will be left to better  writers  to  record  war
history many of whom have already described scenes enacted in that
vicinity during the year 1864. The last engagement  Paul  was  in,  was
the memorable assault on Fort Fisher. When the war closed, he was
mustered out. At that time he held the position of yeoman.

Mr. Boyton discovered that Paul did not have much aptitude for
commercial pursuits, so he sent him to  the  West  Indies  for  the
purpose  of collecting and shipping all kinds of marine curiosities.
Paul's companion was a submarine diver whom his father had engaged. They
took  passage on the bark, "Reindeer," bound for the Barbadoes. They had
all kinds of the latest dredging apparatus, including submarine armor
and  pumps  in their outfit. After a tedious voyage of twenty-seven
days, the "Reindeer" cast anchor in Bridgetown. Paul and the diver,
whose  name  was  Tom Scott, were kindly welcomed by the merchant, an
old friend of Mr. Boyton's, to whom they carried letters of
introduction.

His father's instructions were to charter a fishing boat, or some
suitable vessel at Bridgetown for a six month's cruise  among  the  keys
and islands surrounding, for the purpose of fishing up coral, shells and
other curios that he could gather. A few  days  after  his  arrival,
Paul engaged a staunch little sloop commanded by a negro, who was
assisted by four strong sailors also colored, as crew. The first cruise
was around the island of Barbadoes. Several curios were collected and
purchased and a goodly shipment sent back by the "Reindeer." When he
received  them and read Paul's accompanying letter, Mr. Boyton was
satisfied that his son was now engaged in  a  business  that  thoroughly
suited  him.  The Cayosa, for such was the name of the little sloop, was
then provisioned for a voyage to the group of islands that  lay  to  the
westward,  and where it was said rare shells would be found. For a small
consideration the captain had agreed to bunk forward with crew, leaving
Tom Scott and Paul his little cabin all to themselves. This cabin was
thoroughly scrubbed and cleaned by the pair, after which they fitted it
up  and  placed therein their baggage, rifles, fishing gear, plenty of
reading matter and their private stores.

While in port, Paul remained the guest of Mr. C., the merchant, whose
home was a beautiful villa situated a little way out of town. The merry,
bright-eyed daughters of his host made sad havoc in the susceptible
heart of young Boyton. At last all the stores were  aboard and
everything was ready. One bright morning the anchor was weighed, and the
sloop stood away on her cruise to the island of  Vincent,  which lay
about  one hundred miles to the westward. During this voyage a heavy
tornado tested the little sloop to her utmost. She was driven far out of
her  course. It was four days ere they reached Kingston on the southward
of the island, instead of Richmond whither they were bound. They spent a
few  days in the quaint, old town and picked up several curiosities. The
sloop was then headed for the Cariacou islands, a large  group  which
dot  the ocean between St. Vincent and Granada. Many of these islands
are uninhabited by human beings. They are low and loaded down to the
water's  edge with rich, tropical vegetation. The sloop spent six weeks
in this group. Every available part of the boat was packed with coral
and  all  kinds of curiosities. A run was then made to Charlottetown,
Granada, where the collection was discharged, cleaned and packed in
hogsheads  all  ready for the first boat that would call, bound for New
York. Here the sloop was again provisioned, then she set out for  Tobago
about  one  hundred miles southeast. A cruise was made around the entire
island, but the collection was not remunerative. The sloop was then
headed  to  Trinidad, and along the north coast, valuable specimens were
picked up. In this same locality they struck on a reef of exquisite
brain coral, with  which they loaded the sloop. Sail was then made for
Port of Spain, the principal town of the island. In going through the
Dragon's Mouth,  a  narrow, dangerous passage between the mainland of
South America and Trinidad, the Cayosa was nearly wrecked. A sudden
change in the wind when they were rounding the point drove her into the
breakers. Her mast was badly sprung and only with the utmost difficulty
was she  saved.  Under  shortened sail she entered Port of Spain, a
curiously picturesque old town. Here the collection was discharged as
before and the Cayosa  beached  for  an overhauling. Among those
employed to assist in the repairs were three English sailors who were
held prisoners on  the  charge  of  mutiny. The prison regulations in
Trinidad were very lax, so much so that the three mutineers were
permitted to come down daily and  take  a  hand  in the sloop's
overhauling. They were from Liverpool and hard characters. The captain
of their vessel delivered them over at Trinidad preferring to go
shorthanded rather than have them aboard. On the shady side of the
sloop, that was then high up on the beach, they entertained Scott  and
Paul with their varied adventures. One day Paul expressed astonishment
that being prisoners, they were allowed such unusual liberties. One of
them, Dick Harris by name, answered:

"We are a burden to the authorities here. They would be glad to be rid
of us without the trouble and expense of sending us to  England,  where,
no doubt, we would get the rope's end of the law. Last night when you
paid us off, we stayed out late. When we got back at the jail we  had to
knock again and again. At last the jailer called out: 'Who's there?' We
gave our names, when he exclaimed:  'Now  if  you  blasted  shell-backs
can't get home at a reasonable hour, you can stay out. This is the last
time I will be disturbed from my slumbers to let you in.'"

The three worthies implored Paul to take them away on the Cayosa. I
referred them to the negro captain. The latter earnestly assured them
that, he would sooner run a cargo of scorpions than risk himself and
crew to the tender care of the mild mannered Liverpool tars.

When the sloop was fully repaired, she started on a trip around the
island, but the breakers were too heavy for successful work.  She
directed her course northward and soon reentered the Cariacon group. A
couple of months were spent in those lovely  islands.  The  great
breakers  that swept in along the coast of Trinidad, Tobago and Granada
were missing. In the tranquil bays  and  inlets,  they  pursued  their
occupation  of bringing up the natural treasures of the deep with more
profit and less risk. They would anchor the Cayosa as near shore as
possible,  in  some well sheltered bay. Here soundings wouid be taken,
and the vicinity thoroughly inspected. When the bay gave promise of
shells and coral, a camp was made on the silver-like beach under the
shade of the towering cocoanut trees. The mainsail was detached and
carried ashore to serve  as  an awning. The large sheet-iron boilers
were also landed. While two of the crew gathered wood and decayed
vegetation for  fuel,  the  others  were busy erecting a crude fire-
place with rocks, over which the boilers were set. The shore camp being
ready, the submarine pump would  be  lowered into the yawl and with Tom
Scott, encased in his diving armor, would be conveyed to the most likely
place on the bay. When this was reached,  a kedge anchor was dropped,
the face piece of the armor screwed on, the pipes attached and Tom
quietly slipped over the side and descended to the reef. Two of the crew
turned cranks to force air down to him, while Paul seated in the stern
held the life line. When the diver reached bottom, he gave the signal to
shift the boat wherever his explorations led him. When a lot of shells
or curious objects were found,  several  pulls  on the line were given
indicating, "to anchor and send down the bucket." This bucket was a huge
iron affair, holding about five  bushels.  It  was sent to the bottom.
Tom soon filled it with living and dead specimens of brilliant and
beautiful shells. Then it was hoisted and  the  contents transferred
aboard. In the clear waters on the coral reef, Paul, by hanging over the
stern, could distinctly  see  Tom  on  the  bottom  moving around in his
ponderous dress. He longed for the day when he could go down and behold
the strange sights below in the green, transparent water. At last, the
yawl was loaded. Tom came up and the helmet of his suit was removed and
he enjoyed the pure, salt air  once  more.  The  boat  was headed for
shore and the treasures landed. All living shells were quickly
transferred to the boilers full of  hot  water.  They  were  left  to
simmer over the fire for a couple of hours, after which they were dumped
on the sands. The thoroughly cooked inhabitants  were  easily  removed
and the shells sweet and clean and glowing with all the beautiful tints
of the rose and lily, were placed in  piles  under  the  shade  of  the
awning.

While the crew was engaged in this latter occupation, Scott, and Paul,
armed with rifle and shotgun, would saunter through the heavily perfumed
tropical forests in search of any game they could find. In expeditions
of this kind, they captured three young monkeys and a couple of parrots,
who were soon trained pets on the Cayosa, furnishing all hands with
amusement. Scott and Paul shot many iguanos. These are  huge  lizards
that abound in the tropics. The captain and crew considered this game a
great delicacy and broiled and ate them with relish. It was a long time
ere Scott or Paul would touch the reptiles. One day the black captain
offered	all a young lizard, daintily broiled. He assured them that it
was  as sweet and tender as an angel's dream. They tasted it and found
it really excellent, and from  that  time  on  partook  heartily  of the
dish, whenever it was on the table. At night they frequently stretched
their hammocks from tree to tree for their cabin was uncomfortably hot.
After a refreshing bath in the cool phosphorescent water and a scamper
up and down the level sands in lieu of a towel, they would turn in and
enjoy a sound sleep. They were generally awakened before daylight by the
shrieking and chattering of the parrots and monkeys. Then with a  spring
from their hammock, they would dash merrily in to the reviving water.
After this they donned their white canvas suits and  were  ready  for
another day. Breakfast was taken on shore. This consisted of fresh fish,
coffee, cocoanuts, pineapples and bread fruits. Abundance of  this
fruit  was found on all the islands they visited. On some of the islands
they could not enjoy their nights in the cool hammocks, owing to the
attacks  of the malicious jigger spider and ferocious mosquitoes.

One day while at anchor over a coral reef at the southern part of
Vequin, Torn Scott agreed to give Paul his first lesson in  diving.  Tom
had been feeling sick and feverish for some days so it made him willing
to let Paul take his place for once. He gave Paul full instructions how
to act, especially warning him not to gasp in the compressed air, but to
breathe naturally and easily. When the helmet was screwed on, Paul felt
a smothering sensation but it soon passed. Encouraged, he stepped down n
the rope ladder over the side of the sloop and slowly slipped to  bottom
about five fathoms below. The descent was easy, but bewildering. When
his heavily leaded feet struck on the coral, it seemed to him as  if the
top of his head was being lifted off. For the moment he wished to regain
the surface, but Scott's advice to keep cool and steady came back  to
him and he quickly regained control of his nerves. He peered through the
heavy plate glass visor curiously around at the strange sights  under
the green water. The bottom was as white as snow drift and the powerful
sun lit lip the water so That  he  could  distinctly  see all  objects
within twelve or fifteen feet of him. He signaled "all right" to Scott
with the line and started to walk around. The signal line and hose  were
played out to him, so that he could take a wide scope around and under
the sloop. Notwithstanding the enormous weight of lead attached  to  the
diving dress, Paul found that he had to walk as easily and lightly as if
there were egg shells under his feet; the least little pressure on the
bottom had the tendency to send him up. After a half-hour below, during
which  he  thoroughly  enjoyed  his  novel surroundings,  he  felt  an
oppression on his chest and signaled "to haul up." The strong arms of
the crew helped him regain deck, the helmet was removed and  his
flushed and eager face exposed. He remarked to Tom that "diving was
glorious." After a rest of two hours, the sloop  having been  shifted
to  another anchorage, he again descended. This time the bottom had a
different aspect. It was full of dark rocks over which grow great masses
ofsea weeds. A few feet from where he descended, sprang up a reef of
branch coral which extended as far as he could see on either side. This
coral grew like shrubbery. It was hard to believe that, all this was the
product of an invisible insect, instead of being a miniature forest
turned  into  pure white stone. The scene was surpassingly beautiful;
coral branches ran up to a height of eight or ten feet from the bottom,
where  they  locked and wove together like vines. Paul walked to the
edge of this reef and gazed with delighted eyes into its  liquid
depths.  Schools  of  bright colored fish were swimming gracefully in
and out through the delicate coral branches. Some, more fearless than
their companions, swam round and round Paul's copper helmet, and looked
into the thick glass at the front. When Paul made a sudden move of  his
hand,  they  darted  away;  but returned soon again to satisfy their
curiosity and ascertain what strange monster had invaded their fairy
land.

Three sudden jerks of the life line held in the hands of the anxious
Tom, recalled Paul to his work. The three pulls meant, "Where are you?
Is everything right?" He then signaled for the bucket to be lowered.
Taking his pry he broke off  some  exquisite  specimens  of  the
undergrowth coral, which he loaded in and sent up. He then explored on
the side of the coral forest until he came to a small portion of the
bottom, covered with sand and surrounded with rocks. Under the growth of
marine vegetation, he passed his hand, and pulled from the rock a living
shell.  Paul had been fully instructed by his father in the science of
conchology, so he recognized this specimen as very rare and much sought
after. It was the shell called "voluta musica." This was the first one
of those shells found during the expedition. After a careful search he
found  twenty-three more of the same kind, and several large shells
known as "Triton's trumpet." The bucket was filled. Paul followed it to
the surface  well satisfied with his first day's work as a submarine
diver.

Scott was not enthusiastic over the "volute musica", but the captain of
the Cayosa was delighted. He knew the value of the shell. He told  Paid
he had sold many of them to the tourists and collectors in Barbadoes
receiving from fifty cents to a dollar and a half  apiece.  He  also
said that where one of those shells was found there was generally many
in the vicinity, and advised Paul not to move the sloop that  night, but
to descend again the next day.

When the sun was sufficiently high the next morning, Paul again donned
the armor and resumed his search for the voluta. Not thirty  yards  from
where he had discovered the first one, he found a basin in the rocks
filled with sand. From around this basin he took out two hundred and
forty specimens of the desired shell. Afterwards it was ascertained that
no greater find of this species had ever been made. Scott was not
pleased with Paul's success. He grew more sullen every day. Several
times he tried to resume his position as chief diver,  but  his strength
was  not equal to the strain, and Paul gladly took his place, which only
made Scott furious. The abuse and curses he heaped upon captain and crew
would have resulted in something serious only for Paul. The captain
wanted to maroon the growler, that is, to  place  him on  an  island
with  some provisions and sail away. To this Paul answered that he would
blow off the head of the man that attempted  such a  thing.  He  then
tried  to restrain Scott but with poor success. There was no other way
out of it, so Paul decided to end the cruise. The sloop had a pretty
fair cargo so he ordered the captain to make sail for Bridgetown,
Barbadoes. They arrived there a month before the charter expired. Mr.
C.  settled  to  the satisfaction of the Cayusa's Captain and Scott was
placed in the Marine Hospital. Three weeks later, after intense
suffering  from  fever,  the poor fellow died. Then Paul understood all
his growls and abuse and was sincerely sorry. The collection was boxed
ready for shipment  and  Paul had a pleasant time on the island, while
waiting for a northern bound vessel.

One day while sitting at the mole, fishing, he saw a staunch little
schooner with dilapidated sails bear into the harbor. When her  anchor
was let go, a boat was lowered into which two sailors and a man
evidently the captain, entered. Paul, folding his fishing line,
sauntered  down  to find out who the new arrivals were. A custom house
officer standing by, hailed the stranger as he came ashore with, "Why,
Captain Balbo.  I  am delighted to see you."

"Shure it does me eyes good to see yureself," said the new arrival, in a
rich Irish brogue. "Me papers air all right, so we'll have no trouble.
O'ive just called in to get a bit av fresh wather, an' if the Lord's
willin' somethin' a little stronger."

"You're always welcome," responded the officer, "even if you do neglect
to get your clearances. You know there is no love lost between you  and
the custom house."

The schooner captain way a stout, thickset man with a face bronzed to
the color of mahogany and a head of hair as red as a  Pittsburgh furnace
at midnight. His blue eyes sparkled with good nature and merriment, and
a continual smile hovered over his massive mouth. After several  hearty
greetings to acquaintances on the landing, the captain proceeded to the
warehouse of the merchant, where Mr. C. soon afterward introduced  Paul
to the jolly old sea dog. When Captain Balbo learned that Paul had come
down after seashells and curiosities, he was delighted and invited  the
boy to come aboard.

"O'im in the same line meself. But instead of lookin' afther dirthy,
bad-smellin' sea shells, it's afther the shells of ould Vessels Oi am."

Paul gladly promised to go aboard that afternoon. The captain purchased
a supply of provisions and made arrangements for  his  casks  of  fresh
water and "stronger stuff," but in vain Mr. C. entreated him to remain
over and take dinner with himself and  Paul.  The  captain  declared  he
could "fill himself up at the hotel with more liberty and less
embarrassment." Mr. C. told Paid that Captain  Balbo  was  a  good
natured  old wrecker and treasure hunter, well-known in all the West
India Islands. Late that afternoon Paul rowed out to  the  schooner, and
received  an enthusiastic welcome from the captain, who had evidently
been enjoying himself "without restraint or embarrassment." He took Paul
into a  roomy cabin, and introduced him to his wife, a Very obese yellow
woman, who was reclining on a sofa. The woman was undoubtedly of negro
blood; but to Paul's profound astonishment, she had as fine a brogue as
her husband. After some conversation Paul  ventured to  ask  the
captain  how  this happened. The latter laughed heartily and answered:

"Me wife wuz born far enough away from dear ould Ireland. Oi'll tell ye
how it wuz. Many years ago a parthy of immygrants left county Kerry for
Nassau, New Providence oisland. Their ship wuz driven far out av her way
in a sthorm an' wrecked on a small oisland in Flamingo Bay. A  few  av
thoze thet survived, settled on the oisland, an' soon had foine homes on
its fertile soil. They found only a few nager inhabitants,  an'  shure
they tuk thim fur servants. Me parents were among the survivors from the
ship an' Oi wuz born about a year afther the wreck. As toime went  on,
the nagers gradually acquired the accent of their masthers. Whin Oi grow
up Oi shipped on a tradin' schooner in which we  wus  cast  away  near
Nassau. There Oi joined an English ship; n' fur foive years put in the
loife av a sailor forninst the mast. Me  heart  always  longed  fur  the
sunlit, happy oisland an' me people an' at lasht Oi got back there, an'
there Oi married Betsy thet ye will see on her beam ends on the  sofia.
Soon afther, in company with others, Oi bought fur a trifle, a schooner
that wuz wrecked on the Keys. Afther hard wuerk we got her afloat,  an'
re-masted. We did good wuerk in her as a wrecker. Wan be wan Oi bought
me comrades out, until to-day Oi am masther av  the  good  little  craft
that's under yez. Me wife is always the companion av me voyages. Ehen
she has the will to shake hersel', she can put more weight on a rope
then the balance av the crew. An' there's not a cook in the gay city of
Paris that equal her. Me business is tradin' and wreckin.' Mr. C.  tould
me that ye had submarine armour an' some improved dredgin' appyratus.
Now Oi know where both will be useful to ye an' to me. There's many a
wreck that Oi know, that's out av me reach wid the appliances Oi have.
Wid your appyratus we can get treasure in abundance."

His stories of wrecks and treasures were of deep interest to Paul.
Gladly would he have joined the captain, but his father owned the
submarine armour and apparatus and he felt that he ought to consult him
first. But he promised to answer Captain Balbo later on. A was about to
leave the schooner, he remarked, "Your good lady sleeps very soundly,
but she is very fat."

"That fat, me b'y," responded Balbo, "is av great valey to me. The
English law makes us to give wan fourth av  all  treasure  trove;  but
it's devilish little they find on board the 'Foam' afther me wife lands.
They ofthen remark to me, that it's queer how fat Betsy is  whin  she
goes ashore an' how much flesh she loses afther a short sojourn. Now, me
b'y, Oi'll meet ye to-morrow. Oi loike ye an' Oi hope ye'll jine me.
Ye'll niver regret the day ye do. An' now ye black devils," he said,
turning to the boat's crew, "set this young gintleman safe  ashore,  er
be  the port bow av Noah's ark. Oi'll break ivery bone in yer black
shkins. Good night, God bless ye, me son," was shouted over the dark
waters as  the boat shot away to the landing.

That night Paul entertained Mr. C. with an account of his visit to the
"Foam" and his interview with the captain.  Mr.  C.  assured  Paul  that
Balbo was reliable and thoroughly honest in his dealings. At the same
time he strongly advised him to take passage in the brig  that  had just
arrived in the offing bound for New York and consult his father before
embarking in the enterprise proposed by the wrecker. The  next day  Mr.
C., the captain and Paul dined together. Paul promised the captain, that
if he would consent to his gathering curiosities  during the  voyages
they would make together and give him a share of all treasure recovered,
he would lay the matter before his father on his arrival in New  York.
If Mr. Boyton consented he would join him in Nassau, with all the
improved apparatus he could secure for the business. The  form  of
agreement was drawn up and a bargain concluded subject to the approval
of Paul's father. Three days later Paul sailed for New York on the brig
Saco,  and after a quiet voyage arrived safely at home once more. The
collection of curios he had  with  him  and  the previous  shipments  he
had  made convinced his father that in no other position would Paul be
so valuable to him. He was delighted with his success and allowed  him
a  liberal sum for his labors. Paul was glad to be with his family once
more and proved to his much loved mother that he had not forgotten her
in all  his wanderings as he had a splendid collection of the richest,
rarest and most beautiful specimens he had gathered during his voyage as
a  present for her. The liberal supply of money obtained from his
father's generosity was recklessly  divided between  his  sisters.  A
few  days  after reaching home, he broached the subject of Captain
Balbo's proposition to his father. Mr. Boyton did not like the idea of
wrecking  or  treasure hunting, but he was perfectly content that Paul
should join the captain for the purpose of collecting curiosities, and
was  willing  to  supply him with money and all the improved apparatus
required for that purpose. Paul promised his father that the outlay
would be applied according to his directions; but made the firm resolve
to himself that he would tackle the treasure ships mentioned to him by
Balbo.




CHAPTER IV.

A month after he reached home, young Boyton started again for Nassau
where had sent several letters to the captain of the "Foam" informing
him as to when he might be expected to arrive. He sailed on a trading
schooner, and when they entered the harbor at Nassau, he was glad to
find the "Foam" at anchor there. As the schooner glided past the "Foam,"
Paul loudly hailed her. Captain  Balbo  protruded  his  red  head
through  the gangway. When he recognized Paul, he greeted, him with a
burst of semi-nautical and semi-scriptural eloquence and shouted: "Oi'll
sind  a  boat afther ye. Come aboard quick as ye can."


As Paul could not leave the schooner without first having his effects
passed through the Custom House, the  captain  himself  came  ashore. He
nearly dislocated Paul's arm with his vigorous hand shaking and said
that he had been waiting at Nassau a week for  him.  The  apparatus
being duly passed, all embarked in the captain's yawl and were speedily
conveyed aboard the "Foam." There he received the same warm welcome
from the captain's good natured wife, who had a neat little cabin
prepared for him. After supper the captain and Paul had a long talk on
deck where they sat smoking cigars under the brilliant starlight. Paul
described fully his father objection to his embarking in the wrecking
business,  though he was willing to enter into the arrangements,
providing his share would be the shells and curiosities, which the
captain regarded as  so  much trash.


"Now, Paul, me b'y," said Balbo, after listening intently to his
proposition; "Oi'm an old man an' Oi consider meself an  honest  wan. Ye
can have all the shells an' other things ye consider curiosities that we
pick up; but ye must also have share in anything valuable we recover,
an' ye can depind on me to give you a shquare dale. As fur that paper
Mr. C. drew up, there is no occasion fur it. Oi'm not fond o' papers  av
ony koind fur Oi've always had more or less throuble wid im. Oi give ye
me wurrd an' Oi've yure wurrd an' that is sufficient. The paper can  go
to the shaarks where it belongs."


He then descended into the cabin and returned with the paper they had
signed, which he tore in two and cast into the sea. The next morning the
Captain and Paul went ashore for the clearance papers and that afternoon
anchor was weighed and the "Foam" stood away  for  the  south. Island
after island was visited in the Great Bahama group. Many wrecks well
known to the  captain  were  visited  and  worked  successfully.
Anchors, chains, windlasses, etc., were found in abundance until the
"Foam" was well loaded and sail was made for Kingston, Jamaica.  Off
Morant  Point they picked up a negro pilot in his little canoe far out
at sea. The pilot wore a pair of blue pants, white shirt and stove-pipe
hat, given him no doubt by some passenger or captain of a merchantman.
He gravely saluted all on deck as he passed his bare feet over the
bulwarks and turning to the captain said in the peculiar dialect of the
Jamaica negro:


"Does yo want er pilot, sah?"


"No," responded the captain, "Oi know this coast well enough, but Oi
think ye had bother hoist that craft av yure's on boord an'  come  wid
us into Port Royal. There is signs av a cyclone if Oi'm not mishtaken;"
an invitation which the pilot gladly accepted. His outlandish  attire
and quaint English greatly amused Paul, who after supper, sat beside him
on the deck and plied him with questions about Jamaica. The pilot told
him many interesting tales, among them one of a famous shark known as
"Port Royal Tom" who  was  supposed  to  inhabit  the  waters  of
Kingston's beautiful bay. "Tom, sah, was a pow'ful shahk, 'bout thirty
feet long; but nobody know how ole he was. In de ol'en times big fleets
ob  English men-ob-war use to anchoh off Port Royal, an' dat shahk got
fat on de refuse dat was frown ovahboahd. Sometimes de sailors would
heah de  yallow gals laughin' an' dancin' on de shoah at night an' dey
longed fur to jine dem. Dey wasn't 'lowed to go of'en in  dose  days
'cause  de  yallow fevah was dere; but when de sailor boys got a chance
dey would slip sof'ly down de side an' strike out fur de shoah. Tom, he
know  dis  custom, an' he kep sharp eye on de boys, an' I 'shure yo'
sah, dat dat shahk gobbled up moah seamen dan 'uld fill de bigges' ob de
Queen's  men-ob-wah. As lots ob de sailors went ashoah fur 'sertion as
well as fur 'musement, de navay people winked dere lef' eye at de tricks
ob ole Tom. After  a while de sailors got to belibe dat he wah under de
pay ob de gove'ment, an' many a red-hot cannon ball ware sec'etly
dropped ober  de  side  to Tom, yafter firs' temptin' him wid nice
pieces ob salt junk. I nab neber seen ole Tom myself, sah, but dey say
dat  he  is  'round  heah  yet. Lucinda Nelson, de great fortune tellah
an hoodoo 'oman done tole me dat Tom's now livin' in a big ware-house
down in ole Jamaica  an'  dat  he sel'om comes out 'cause he's getting'
quite ole. Ole Jamaica, yo' mus' remembah, sah, is fifteen fathom below
de ocean  now.  Great  earthquake come up one night an' swallowed de
whole town an only a few yeahs ago, when de watah was right cleah, yo'
could see  de  tops  ob  some  ob  de houses still standin' at de
bottom. I belibe Lucinda Nelson, sah, fur she's a great 'oman an' known
a heap ob tings. Niggah folks all go to her fur hoodoos an' chahms an' I
reckon she mus' be close on two hun' yeahs ole."

Captain Balbo who was laying close by did not seem to pay much attention
to the story of Port Royal Tom. He had heard it often before;  but  he
pricked up his ears when Lucinda was mentioned and eagerly questioned
the pilot as to her present whereabouts. Turning to Paul, he said:
"Oi've heard a good dale about, this fortune-teller, an' Oi intind to
visit her; she may be able to put us onto somethin' good" Paul  laughed
at  the idea of her knowing anything about wrecks or sunken treasure;
but the captain persisted in his determination to find her when they
landed.


The wind having dropped, the schooner was becalmed and lazily pitched
around on the gentle swell. The captain called loudly  to  his  help-
mate Betsy to bring up some fresh cigars and a bottle of grog and
settled himself more comfortably on deck to enjoy the pilot's stories.


"Have you ever seen Port Royal Tom?" Paul asked the captain.


"No," responded the Captain; "but a frind av moine did an' ye may rest
ashured that he is around here somewhere. Oi wouldn't be surprised if he
were in the ould ware-house that our frind, the pilot mintioned."


"I guess yo' see a great many shahks in yoah time, massa Cap'in:" said
the pilot.

"Yis," responded the captain, "Oi saw lots av thim." He nudged Paul with
his foot and a merry twinkle lit his eyes. "They're curious brutes an'
not built like human bein's."

The pilot and Paul were now all attention as the captain seemed inclined
to spin a yarn.


"Whin Oi wuz a shtrapping young fellow about eighteen, Oi wuz sailin'
aboord a trader. Wan day we were layin' becalmed,  as  we  air  now, off
Turk's Island. While we were quietly sittin' on the bulwarks, we saw a
monstrous shaark off our starboard beam. The ould mon at the  toime was
snorin' away in his cabin, an' it was a foine chance to have a little
fun. We out wid the shaark hook and havin' baited it wid a temptin'
piece av junk, attached it to a shtrong line which we rove troo the
davitts. Afther smellin' round it, the shaark turned on its  side an'
swallowed it. All hands clapped on to the rope an' we hoisted him clear
out av the wather. A bowline wuz passed over his tail an' we got him on
boord an' a few blows wid the axe along the spine quited him down. His
floppin' on the deck niver woke the skipper, so we cut him open. We
shlit him from close under the mouth to near the tail and overhauled
everything that wuz in him. In the stomach we found a collection  of
soup  an'  bouillon cans an' bottles enough to shtart a liquor house. As
we wuz examinin' the stuff, the ould man came on deck an' thundered
out:"


"'What the blazes are ye doin' there messin' me decks up! Get that brute
overboord quick an' wash down.' We histed  the  carcass  av  the  gutted
shaark an' passed it over the side. We watched the body as it struck the
wather. It remained still fur a few minutes, thin, to  our  amazement,
turned over an' began swimmin'. He casht his eye inquiringly up at the
crew, who were all standin' along the rail lookin' at him, as though  he
wanted somethin'. The skipper himself was so overcome at the shtrange
soight that he furgot, fur the toime  bein',  all  about  the disgustin'
state av the deck. Quickly recoverin' himself, he hoarsely ordered the
crew to git the stomach and internals av that shaark overboard  and  git
cleaned down. Three av us grasped the shaark's insides an' liftin' thim
to the rail, cast thim into the say. Whin they shtruck the wather  they
were grabbed be the shark an' swallowed. As his belly was cut wide open,
they went through him an' came to the surface. Three  times  he  done
this, but did'nt succeed in holdin' thim in their proper place. At this
toime all hands were on the rail  watchin'  the sport  an'  ivery  wan
laughed loud at his maneuverin'. The shaark seemed to grow more vexed at
each failure an' to resist the merriment of the crew for he cast  many
furious and malicious glances at the vessel. Once more he backed off fur
a charge to swallow thim an' this toime succeeded in holdin'  thim  in
be a nate trick. Instid av turnin' partly on his side an' showin' his
dorsal fin afther he had swallowed he kept bottom up and swam slowly
away waggin' av his tail with a gratified air while a huge grin spread
over his repulsive countenance."

"Great lo'd, sah," said the pilot, "dat was wonderful indeed!"

The captain gazed sternly into the pilot's eye to see if there was the
glimmer of a doubt  therein,  while  Paul  tumbled  into  the  cabin  to
suppress his fit of convulsive laughter.

During the night the threatened cyclone made its appearance and the
"Foam" let go her anchor in Kingston harbor just time to  escape  the
full fury of the storm. After some considerable trouble at the Custom
House, the cargo of the "Foam" was landed and disposed of; except  the
shells and curiosities gathered in the months' run through tint islands.
Those as usual were cased and left in the hands of a merchant for
shipment to New York. The sale of the wreckage amounted to three hundred
and twelve dollars. After deducting the stores consumed on the vessel,
the captain offered half the balance to Paul, who refused, as the shells
obtained were equal in value to the wreckage. The captain insisted that
he  should at least accept one hundred dollars. All business was
concluded and the "Foam" provisioned; but the weather was still stormy
and  unsettled  so they decided to remain over until it cleared up. The
captain and Paul made many excursions around Kingston. One of them was
to the camp of  the English soldiers. It was situated on a plateau above
the town about four thousand feet from the sea level. To  reach  this
camp  they  had  to charter jackasses. Captain Balbo was not at home on
this stubborn craft. All went well on the plains below; but when  they
reached  the  steep path up the mountain side the captain could not hold
his seat. His fat body would continually slip down on the flanks of the
donkey, who  would begin to practice as though he wanted to kick a hole
in the sky. Three times the captain was unseated but finally he struck a
plan  of  holding on to the donkey's tail and in this manner was towed
up the mountain. The magnificent sight from the camp amply repaid them
for  their  arduous ascent. They could distinctly see every part of
Kingston as it lay stretched along the shore of its superb bay, while on
the other side, a long tongue of land covered with cocoanut trees
reached out and almost made the harbor a lake. At the extreme point was
the entrance  out  into  the ocean, where immense naval store-houses
covered the beach and off them were moored great  hulks  belonging  to
the  British  government.  They thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful view
and did not regain the town until almost nightfall. Instead of going
aboard, the captain proposed to have dinner at a hotel; after which he
persisted in making a visit to the fortune teller. The pilot was easily
found and consented to act as a guide to the cabin of the dark seeress.
Along tramp through the narrow streets and a little out in the country
brought them to the habitation of this famed dealer in "Black Art." The
house was almost buried by banana trees and heavy vines. In response to
the captain's  impatient  knocks,  the door was opened by a little girl,
who said:

"Gran won't see any one to-night, no use in trying."

"We must see her fur we're goin' away to-morrow an' won't have another
chance," urged the captain.

A querulous voice from the inside was heard saying: "Come Captain, come
in if you insist," an invitation which  was  quickly  accepted  by  the
captain who was followed by Paul and the pilot. On entering the back
room, a curious sight presented itself. The seeress looked  far
different from the picture Paul had formed of her in his mind. She was
not over five feet high and so thin and wrinkled that she resembled a
mummy rather than a human being. On her head she wore a turban formed of
some bright colored cloth, while the balance of her apparel  consisted
of  a  dark robe embroidered with snakes and other reptiles. The room
was adorned with skins of serpents, bunches of herbs, and many weird
looking objects.

"So, Captain Balbo, you came to see me at last," exclaimed the old
crone; "and who is that young stranger from the far off north that I see
at your side?"

The captain was dumbfounded at hearing his name announced by a person
whom he had never seen before, but shrewdly remarked:

"If ye know me, why is it ye don't know this young stranger?"

"Ah," responded the fortune-teller, "if he sought me I would know him.
He has simply accompanied you as a sightseer. Now, Captain, what  can  I
do for you?"

"How ye know me, Lucinda, is morn than Oi can comprehend, Oi've often
heard av ye. As ye know me ye must be aware av me business an'  can also
tell phat Oi'm here fur."

"Yes, Captain, I know both and the yellow curse you are after lays in a
little bay in sufficient quantities to satisfy you on the most southern
island in a group of three that bear the same name."

The captain pondered for a while, then said, "It must be the Caicos, for
they're the only three islands in a group that bear  the  same  name
that Oi know of."

She then went on in a mysterious way to describe to the captain a rock-
locked bay, giving him  points  and  descriptions  by  which  he  easily
recognized the island of East Caicos. She ended the conversation
abruptly and ordered them out. Before leaving the captain placed  a
sovereign in her hand and came away deeply impressed with what the
fortune-teller had revealed to him.  For  quite  a  distance  he
remained  profoundly silent, then turning to Paul he said: "Oi know the
exact place the old devil manes. Though she didn't name  the  island she
described  it  so closely that it is impossible to mishtake it. It is
East Caicos, Oi know the bay well an' it has a great  reputation  of
bein'  a  resort  fur pirates in olden days; an' mark me wurrd, b'y, the
visit to that old black will be the means av makin' our  fortune.
Instead  av  headin'  fur Little Cayman to-morrow mornin', we'll pint
her fur East Caicos. It is over fure hundred miles north by east from
here; but it will pay  us  to make the run."

Next morning being fair, the "Foam" left Jamaica and stood off in the
direction of the island. They had good weather and fair  winds.  In four
days they passed Cape Maysi, the most easterly point or Cuba. Here they
met head winds that caused them to tack four more days, then  they got
under the lee of the Great Inagua island. The weather was very
threatening and every indication pointed to another cyclone, so they
decided  to run the sloop into one of the sheltered bays that abound on
those coasts. Here they lay for two days  while  the  wind  whistled and
shrieked through the naked rigging. As they were about to get under way
the third morning after the dropped  anchor,  a  native  came  off in  a
canoe containing pineapples and cocoanuts which he exchanged for a few
biscuits. The captain questioned him closely in regard to  wrecks around
the island and was told about a large Spanish ship that went down years
ago on the southeast coast and it was a legend among the inhabitants
that she contained a vast amount of treasure. None of her crew ever
reached shore so the information was rather  vague. Nevertheless,  the
captain determined to make a try for it. The Indian swore that he knew
about the exact location and for the promise of a dollar  a  day  he
agreed  to pilot them to the place. After a cruise of about thirty miles
eastward, they came to the place where the Indian said the wreck had
occurred and taking sounding they found bottom a little over nineteen
fathoms. The weather being fine they hove to and the yawl containing the
diving  pump was lowered.

"This is a pretty deep dive," remarked the captain to Paul as he was
equipping himself in his armour.

"It is," responded Paul, "the deepest I ever made; but nothing risk,
nothing win. Fasten on the face piece  and  you  yourself  attend  to
the signal line."

He dropped overboard and commenced descending slowly, while the captain
anxiously and watchfully plied out the signal line and hose. He reached
bottom which was full of rocks covered with a slimy growth of marine
vegetation; the pressure on him was something enormous. It was  very
dark and he groped for some time without discovering anything. He
signaled the boat to move with him as he pursued his  explorations.  At
last  his heart was gladdened by the sight of a wreck overgrown with a
heavy mass  of  weeds  and  sea  plumes.  After  a  closer investigation
he  was disappointed to find that she was not nearly as large as the
vessel described by the Indian; but by her appearance he judged she must
have been under water many, many years. All the iron work was eaten away
and the timbers badly decayed. He gave the signal, "kedge and buoy." The
answer from above was "all-right," and soon after he grabbed a kedge
that slowly and silently descended near him. Having fastened it to the
wreck,  he signaled "haul away," and was soon to the surface and helped
aboard the yawl. When the helmet was removed  he  was very  much
exhausted.  The captain was enthusiastic over his discovery, but was
rather disappointed when told of the dimensions of the wreck. The
schooner was then hailed to come alongside and all sails were lowered.
One of the largest dredges was sent down and Paul descended after it. He
used the dredge to clear away the masses of vegetation which covered the
wreck. He fastened the claws in the decayed wood and signaling them to
haul away,  an  entrance was at last effected into the hull. He found
nothing there to reward him for his trouble and work except long white
rows, which on  examination proved to be grinning skulls and bones and
the traces of rusty iron chains that bound them together in life. Paul
was horrified at his  ghastly discovery and signaled "haul away." On
reaching the dock be informed the captain of his find.

"A slaver, be the mizzen top av the ark," he exclaimed. "There's no use
av huntin' through that fellow. They would have no cash aboard  if  the
skeletons are there. They'd have to sell the nagers before they'd have
anything av value."

Three days were now spent in looking for the phantom treasure ship, but
the captain lost patience finally and unceremoniously kicked the Indian
overboard into his canoe and the "Foam" bore away with a fair wind to
the island of East Caicos.

The second morning after, East Caicos lay under their port bow. It
towered high and forbidding far up in the mist. They beat around to the
bay which the Captain supposed was the one described by the fortune-
teller. The schooner was anchored to the lee of a reef, while the
captain, Paul and two of the crew embarked in the yawl on a tour of
investigation. They pulled close under the cliff and into an inlet
between two great jaws of barnacle-covered rock that towered high above
them. Paul was astonished to see the exact reproduction of the word
picture  painted  by  the black fortune-feller of Jamaica before his
eyes. They rowed through the inlet on the swell and entered a bay that
was perfectly landlocked. All around it to the height of a couple of
hundred feet arose a mass of irregular rock, out of which great flocks
of gulls and other sea birds flew and angrily circled around the
intruders. "This is the place shore enough, Paul. There's no other place
loike it on the oislands,  Oi  could'nt be mishtaken."

At this moment one of the oarsmen exclaimed: "Almighty Lord, Captain!
Look over there! See the sharks!"

A short glance was sufficient to reveal the fact that the water was full
of these wolves of the deep and they commenced to  gather  around  the
yawl in alarming numbers.

"Be careful there, Paul," cautioned the Captain, "keep yure hands in
boord," as he hurriedly ordered the crew to swing around and pull out.
By this time fully a hundred pair of hungry eyes were following in the
wake of the boat. As she retreated, the sharks grow bolder  and
approached closer; many of them diving from side to side under the boat,
while one of them made a snap at the oars. It did not require much
encouragement for the black sailors to pull, as their eyes were standing
out of their heads at the time and the muscles showed up on  their  arms
like  whip cords as they sent the boat flying to the schooner. They
reached the side in safety and then every fire-arm  and  harpoon  on the
"Foam"  was called into play on the ferocious brutes. Many and fervent
were the prayers that the captain sent up for the welfare  of the  black
witch  at Jamaica, whom he swore he would kill on sight.

After this adventure the schooner was headed to the northwest and for
four months the islands and keys wre thoroughly worked. During that
time, three trips had been made to Nassau and valuable cargoes of
recovered articles discharged. No treasure of  any  account  was  found,
with  the exception of one enormous piece of coral, in which were
embedded a number of old Spanish dollars. This object was sold to a
tourist  at  Nassau for the suns of $250. Experience convinced Paul that
the tales of vast treasure in the Indies were more fabled than  real;
still,  strange  to say, old Balbo firmly believed in them. Every time
the water closed over Paul's copper helmet, his sanguine nature firmly
expected that  untold wealth was about to be opened up to them. During
this cruise Paul had neglected no opportunity to secure rare specimens
of  shells  and  other marine novelties. In a letter he received from
his father during his last visit to Nassau, he was informed that his
share of the goods  shipped had covered the cost of the submarine
armour, dredging apparatus, etc., and that he had placed eight hundred
and sixty dollars to his credit in a New York bank. This letter he
showed to Balbo who to use his own expression, was "thrown on  his  beam
ends"  with  astonishment.  Paul  now persuaded him to give up the
dredging of wreckage and treasure hunting and devote the whole time to
seeking curiosities. The old man  was  loth to give up his pet ideas of
treasure-hunting and of making long, useless voyages in quest of
phantoms. Paul assured him  that  there  was  more chance of finding
treasure ships by systematically working one locality, so he  agreed  to
turn  the  schooner  into  a  "shellhunter"  as  he sarcastically termed
it. Everything was ready for another cruise through the Keys and small
islands, when the captain, who  had  secretly  been interviewing	another
fortune-teller, announced his intention of sailing to the coast of
Mexico. The first point sighted was Cape  Catoche,  the northeast point
of Yucatan. Along this coast they were most successful and soon filled
the schooner with a large  and  valuable  collection  of curios with
which they sailed to Campachie where they were transferred to a vessel
bound for New Orleans. While at Campache, news  came  in  of the wreck
of a Mexican brig that occurred on the Alakranes Bank.

The daughter of a rich planter living near Merida, Yucatan, was one of
the lost passengers and her father offered one thousand  dollars  reward
for the recovery of her body. An agent was sent down from Sisal to
negotiate with Captain Balbo, with the result that the "Foam" bore  away
to the north taking along one of the surviving sailors of the brig. They
sailed to the  Alakranes  Bank  that  lay  about  eighty  miles  off the
mainland. They arrived there on a Saturday night and soon found
anchorage. Sunday morning the sea was as smooth as a pond of quick-
silver. When they embarked in the yawl and commenced their search, the
Mexican sailor was confused owing to different conditions of the water.
When he  been there last, a wild sea broke over the reefs. In the
afternoon they discovered a dark object below, which proved to be the
ill-fated  brig.  Her bottom was almost completely torn out by her
contact with the reef so that she sank instantly to the leeward. Through
the  clear  water  they could distinctly see her two masts standing
while her shattered sails lay thick and tangled through the rigging.
Next morning the schooner  was taken out and anchored close by and Paul
descended to the wreck. As he struck the bottom a few feet from her, he
found her  heavily  canted  to star-board. He walked around taking care
that his hose pipe would not become entangled in the rigging and
clambered over  her  side.  Two  good sized sharks shot away from the
deck when they heard the hissing of the air escaping from his helmet. He
could see  very  clearly  all  around, owing to the direct rays of the
sun reflecting on the coral reef. On gaining the deck which lay at an
angle of about 35 degrees  he  discovered the iron pumps detached from
their place and pinning to the bulwark the body of a dead sailor, or
rather part of a body as his legs and stomach had been eaten away. This
sight rather unnerved Paul, but he worked his way aft to the cabin hatch
which he  found  securely  fastened.  A  few blows with his pry forced
it open and descending the gangway he found himself in a cabin with four
state rooms on each side. The rooms  on  the tower side were rather dark
but he opened each door and carefully felt the bunks and bottoms for the
body he was in quest of.  Finding  nothing in the first four state-
rooms, he tried the upper ones. There was much more light in these as
the sun shone  down  through  the  green,  clear, water and in through
the glass port holes. Everything buoyant in the staterooms had floated
up against the deck so that he had to haul and pull them down for
examination. The third door he reached he could not open. It was
fastened by a bolt on the inside, but with the aid of his pry he soon
shot it back. Then swinging the door impatiently toward him, the eddy
brought out the upright body of a young woman in her nightdress. Her
hair floated around her head like golden sea-weed as it came forward and
fell against the glass face-piece of his armour. For a moment  he  was
paralyzed with the shock, but, he quickly regained his nerves, and
gently placing his arm around the dead body, he reverently bore  it  to
the deck. Her hands were clasped as though in last supplication to the
great power above, while her eyes protruded with terror at the fate she
had met. Hastily signaling those above to lower a line, he laid the body
carefully against the shattered rigging while he went to grasp  the
rope. Passing it under her arms and putting two secure half hitches on
it, he signaled again to haul away.  It  gently ascended  through  the
clear water, while a school of fish played around her as though sorry to
see her go. Paul followed after and found all on  deck  solemn  and
silent, while the captain's good-natured wife was in the cabin wrapping
the corpse in a sheet. That night a rude coffin was made in which  the
remains were placed and the schooner headed for Sisal, where she sailed
in with her flag at half-mast. The father faithfully paid the  promised
reward and the schooner under charter, returned to resume her work at
the wreck. Out of this job the captain and Paul made about nine hundred
dollars each.

A cruise was then made around the Gulf of Campechie which was most
successful. The catch was landed at Vera Cruz whence it was shipped  to
New York. Sometime before this, Paul had informed his father of the
changed condition of his contract with  Captain  Balbo  and  requested
him  to forward the captain's one-half of the proceeds of the goods
shipped. At Vera Cruz they found letters, one containing a robust check
for Captain Balho, which so pleased that worthy individual, that he
determined to spend at least one week ashore and enjoy hotel quarters
for which he  had a weakness. The gamblers, who abound in Vera Cruz,
found a rich victim in the captain, who parted with all the money he
could conceal from  the watchful eyes of his wife, Betsy, with the
guilelessness of a boy ten years old.

A cruise was now made along the coast of Mexico; but the collection of
curiosities did not pay for the  time  engaged,  so  they  concluded  to
abandon it and stand away again to the islands. At Tuxpan, where they
landed for fresh water, they received information of a steamer  that had
been burned and sunk near Tampico, so they headed the schooner for that
port. The steamer had been burned about three weeks before and the hull
lay on a bank in eight fathoms of water. The agent offered to engage
them to recover the safe for which he would pay them five hundred
dollars, or they could have the usual salvage, ten per cent. As it was
reported around the port that the safe contained over  thirty  thousand
dollars, besides a number of valuable packages belonging to the
passengers, they concluded to take ten per cent. For four days they
worked hard  on  the wreck, removing the confused mass of iron, which
was twisted into fantastic shapes by the action of the fire. On the
forenoon of the fifth day, Paul sounded something solid and heavy with
his pry, far down through the debris near the keel, and after about an
hour's hard work sent up the joyful signal: "I've got it," which was
received on deck with loud cheers. The chain hooks were now sent down
and after a  lashing  was  placed around the safe, the order to "haul
away" was given. All hands manned the windlass and the safe was soon
suspended between the bottom  and  the surface. Paul now went up to
assist in getting it aboard. Sail was then Made and with light hearts
they stood in for the  port.  The  safe  was locked and to all
appearances uninjured.

"There is three thousand dollars there fur us, Paul me b'y," said the
captain as he patted the safe affectionately.

On arriving at the dock, the safe was transferred to the ware-house,
where it was forced open and to their dismay and  disgust  found  that
it contained nothing of any value. It was subsequently found out that
the purser, seeing the ship in danger, had quietly  transferred  the
safe's money to himself and when he landed had vanished and so all the
hard work of raising the safe was in vain. Paul  laughed  at  their  bad
luck, while the captain swore picturesquely in several languages.
Preparations were again made for the voyage to the islands which had
been postponed on account of this misadventure. One evening the "Foam"
stood away to the east. Three o'clock the next  morning  a  furious gale
set  in  and increased hourly until the vessel was under bare poles and
scudding for the coast. It was impossible to attempt to beat against the
storm,  so they stood away helplessly before it, running on to a very
dangerous coast. At six o'clock that evening, she stuck in the breakers
on the beach opposite Pueblo Viego. Enormous seas poured over her and
swept everything from the decks. A boat was lowered but immediately
smashed to  atoms. In this critical position, the coolest person aboard
was Betsy. She a life preserver strapped firmly around her and was
covered with one of the captain's oil-skins.

"I guess it is a matter of swim for it," roared Paul to the captain, "as
she won't stand this very long."

At this instant the mainmast went and as it swung clear, the stays were
hastily cut by the captain and Paul. The captain  frantically  motioned
Betsy to grab one of the lines attached to the mast. The next moment a
sea broke over her that carried the three of them, with two of the  crew
hanging on to the mast, which, clear of the wreck, was rapidly driven
towards the shore. Once a great  sea  broke  Paul's  hold  and  he found
himself unaided swimming in the mad surf. He was fortunate enough to
catch a hatch that was floating near which  supported  him  to  the
shore where he was thrown with considerable violence and half stunned.
He managed to stagger up the beach and  in  a  few  minutes  discovered
Betsy dragging the insensible form of the captain out of the reach of
the sea. The captain was not dead, but very near it. One of the crew had
an arm broken while the other landed without injury. The three men left
on the wreck were lost.  When  the  skipper  recovered  consciousness he
was inconsolable at the loss of his craft. That night the party found
shelter in a house  about  half  a  mile  from  the  beach  where they
were hospitably entertained. At the break of day the captain and Paul
were on the beach. The sea was still breaking heavily and all that was
left of the staunch little "Foam" were her timbers scattered far up and
down on the sands. Among them were found the bodies of  two  of  the
men,  the other was never heard of. So sudden and unexpected was the
loss of the vessel that Paul never thought of his money he had safely
stowed away in the cabin and he stood on the beach that morning without
a cent in his pocket. The loss of his armour and apparatus grieved him
deeply  but  he felt a keen sorrow for the distress of his old friend
Balbo. Yet in a way, the captain was more fortunate than himself as
Betsy had carried all their earnings safely ashore, stowed away in the
voluminous folds of her dress. All day long the Captain, Betsy  and Paul
and  the  uninjured seaman, patrolled the beach in the hope that
something valuable might wash up. But outside of a  few  articles  of
clothing  and  some  casks, nothing came ashore. In the evening they
gave it up in despair and returned to the house that had sheltered them
the previous night.  The  next morning after another visit to the beach
a conveyance was obtained for Tampico, where they arrived the same
evening.

For some days they were at a loss what to do until a vessel appeared in
harbor bound for New Orleans. On this the Captain, Betsy  and  the  two
seaman procured passage and they vainly urged Paul to do the same; but
he had a lingering hope that he might yet recover his apparatus with the
aid of the primitive dredgers of the Mexican fishermen, so he refused to
leave. He saw them on board the ship and took an affectionate farewell
of his old friends. Before parting, the Captain insisted on his
accepting a small loan which he said he could return to Nassau whenever
he felt like it. There was a suspicious dimness in his eyes as he
crushed Paul's hand in his own, while Betsy cried outright as she
heartily kissed him good-bye. When the weather became mild again, Paul
engaged a small fishing craft and went down the coast to the vicinity of
the wreck  but  his efforts were in vain. His armour by that time was
buried far below in the quicksand so he abandoned the search and went
back to Tampico.

While sitting disconsolately on the piazza of the little hotel in
Tampico, he was approached by an American: "Well young fellow I've heard
that you have had pretty hard luck. What do you intend to do?"

"That's just about what I would like to know myself."

"Well, I think I can post you," said his new acquaintance as he
leisurely seated himself and hoisted his heels on the rail. "There  is a
good chance for active young fellows just now. I presume you never did
much soldiering, but I guess you can fire a gun."

"Why yes," responded Paul, "I think I could manage that."

The stranger then told Paul that he was connected with the
Revolutionists, whose headquarters were then at Palmas and assured him
that he would be well taken care of. Paul, who was at the time, open for
anything that would turn up, quickly accepted the proposition. The next
morning  he and fourteen others mounted on mules, and conveying a pack
train were pursuing their  way  up  the  mountain  road  in  the
direction  of  the headquarters. His filibustering friend furnished Paul
with a pretty good rifle and revolver, and informed him that they were
on  their  way  to join a party under the command of General Pedro
Martineze. He also told him that his own name was Colonel Sawyer; that
he  had  been  born  in Texas, but had spent most of his life on the
frontier and was concerned in many of the Revolutions that disturbed the
Republic of  Mexico.  His principal occupation was running arm and
ammunition from the coast to the Revolutionists in the interior. For
three  days  they  pursued  their journey, camping every night. About
ten o'clock on the morning of the fourth, they were stopped by the cry
of "Halts, halta." Looking  up  from where the hail came, they saw the
muzzles of thirty or forty rifles pointed at them. Colonel Sawyer loudly
cried in answer  to  their  command, "Amigos." In a few moments they
were surrounded by a skirmishing party of Revolutionists and conveyed to
the  camp.  Here  Paul  found  several Americans, all soldiers of
fortune, none of whom gave him very encouraging accounts of the
prospects. Two weeks were spent  in  the  camp  from which small
expeditions were sent out every day. Paul accompanied one of these to
the National road  running  from  Tampico  to  Monterey,  and between
the villages of Liera and Maleta. They had a skirmish and succeeded in
capturing a carriage, hauled by four horses which contained some person
of importance as he was treated with the utmost respect by the Commander
and conveyed a prisoner to the camp. The horses were  unhitched from the
carriage which was left on the road. Soon after Paul and a party under
the command of Sawyer, were sent to the town of Bagarono  where a cargo
of arms had been landed. These by the aid of pack mules were safely
transferred to the camp. Soon after there was a heavy engagement in
which the entire body of Revolutionists participated near Ciudad
Victoria.  The  revolutionists  were  badly  repulsed  and  retreated to
the mountains. After this it was nothing but a series of raids which
were both laborious and unsatisfactory. Paul was fast  tiring  of  this
semi-barbarous mode of warfare so that he and four of his companions
decided to discharge themselves on the first  favorable  opportunity. It
came sooner than they expected. They were sent under command of Sawyer
and others to Metamoras for ammunition. On reaching  there,  they found
the schooner with the promised supply had not arrived. After waiting for
some days news came that the Revolutionists had again  been repulsed
and were all in retreat. This decided Sawyer, who said:

"Boys, the jig is up and the best thing we can do is to get across the
river and into the United States."

That night they crossed the Rio Grande in an old tub of a boat that they
expected would go to the bottom every moment and landed in  safety  at
Brownsville, on the American shore. Here Paul wrote letters home and
requested his father to send him  a  remittance  to  Galveston.  With
the little money they bad, mustangs and provisions were purchased and
they started on a long ride to Corpus Christi. It was a wild journey
through the chaparral, over the burnt and dried grass of the prairie,
across swamps and rivers; but they made the two hundred miles in eight
days. Here they separated. While his companions sought employment with
the ranchers, Paul for consideration of his mustang, rifle  and
revolver,  induced the captain of a coaster to give him passage to
Galveston. He arrived in Galveston and found himself without a cent. He
opportunely  remembered that his father had a friend there in the person
of ex-Governor Lubbock, whom he hunted up. He was cordially received by
the Governor, who  not only supplied him with all he wanted, but
insisted upon his remaining in his house until his correspondence should
arrive. In ten days the long looked for letter and remittance came to
hand, and Paul lost no time in securing a passage on the steamer Haridan
for  New  Orleans,  and  from there to New York, where he arrived June
2d, 1867.




CHAPTER V.

He was warmly received by his family and found that his father had a
smug sum to his credit in the bank. Paul was now in his  nineteenth
year; he was strong and so bronzed with the sun that he looked fully
twenty-five. For some time after his home coming he was unsettled  what
to  do, and once or twice was on the point of investing in a new outfit
and re-embarking for the West Indies.  But  the  pleadings  of  his
mother  to abandon the wandering life he liked so well, and to settle
down to a steady business prevailed, and his father assisted him to open
a store  in Philadelphia for the sale of curiosities and Oriental goods.
A branch at Cape May was also opened. It was very successful and
disposed of large quantities of goods to the visitors there. For two
years he successfully pursued this mercantile life and was establishing
a good business; but while at Cape May during the summer time his old
love for the water drew him continually to the  beach,  where  his
magnificent  and  fearless swimming attracted the attention of all. At
times he would swim so far out in the cool, dancing waves that the
people could not see  his  head. His extraordinary power in this line,
proved of great value to many unfortunate bathers who were carried out
by  the  under  tow  and  were  in danger of drowning. Paul always swam
to their assistance, and the first season he spent on the beach, he
succeeded in saving fourteen who would certainly have lost their lives
had it not been for his help. Many testimonials were presented to him
for his bravery. He became  very  popular with the visitors, but not so
with the native boat men who looked upon life saving and the perquisites
attached, as their own, and wondered how a volunteer dared to do better
than they. His second season on the beach was still more successful in
both life-saving and business, and he met with many curious individuals
in the persons whom he had saved. One day an excursionist swam far out
over the breakers. When he turned to  come ashore, he was alarmed either
at the distance he found himself out, or feeling the under tow against
him, he lost his courage and cried  loudly for help. Paul was on the
beach at the time, and, quickly divesting himself of his clothing,  he
sprang  away  through  the  breakers  to  his assistance. The man was
very difficult to handle, for he was thoroughly frightened. He would
obey none of Paul's injunctions, but persisted  in clambering on his
back. After extraordinary difficulty Paul succeeded in landing him. The
man  was  unconscious  and  Paul  himself  thoroughly exhausted. The
same afternoon, while Paul was standing talking to a group of gentlemen,
the rescued excursionist appeared, and, calling him  to one side, said:


"Say, mister, I hear that you are the man who saved me this morning, and
I tell you I am very much obliged to you. I am going home now, and  if
you ever catch me in that darn water, I'll give you leave to drown me.
Before going, I wish to present you some token of my esteem and regard."


Paul assured him that he required nothing, stating that the knowledge he
had saved his life was sufficient reward  in  itself.  The  persistent
individual was not satisfied. He slipped his hand in his pocket and drew
forth a pocket-book, from which he  extracted  a  dilapidated  looking
fifty-cent note. Fervently pressing it into Paul's hand, he said:


"You take that and remember me."


Paul was surprised at the liberal present, but quickly recovering, he
said to  the  departing  excursionist:  "Hold  on,  my  friend,  you are
forgetting something." Carefully counting forty-nine cents from a
handful of change he drew out of his pocket, he handed it to the rescued
man and remarked: "I could not think of taking a cent more than your
life is worth."


On another occasion, Paul succeeded in rescuing a young lady who was
being rapidly carried out to sea and who would certainly have been
drowned but for his aid. In his struggles to get her ashore, he was
compelled two or three times to grasp her roughly by the hair. When
landed, she was unconscious and in that state was conveyed to her hotel.
Paul met a friend of the lady on the beach  and  inquired,  how  Miss --
--------  was getting along. "Oh very well," was the response; "but she
is a very curious young lady."


"How is that?" asked Paul.


"Well, when I visited her this morning I remarked that she ought to be
very grateful to you for saving  her  life. 'I  am,'  she  hesitatingly
answered. 'But I think he might have acted a little more gentlemanly and
not caught me by the hair. I have a frightful headache.'"


There is an old saying, "That if you wish to make enemy of a man, just
save his life or lend him money." Paul's experience convinced  him  that
the saying was true. Many and many a person has he saved from a watery
grave, who never even took the trouble to seek him out and thank him.


In the Fall of 1869 Paul lost everything he had in the world by a great
fire at Cape May and he left there heavy  hearted  and  disgusted  with
business. Soon after, his father died and the home was very, very
lonely. When the estate was settled  up,  Paul's  old  love  for  travel
and adventure came strongly back to him. The Franco-Prussian war broke
out. He believed that it was the opportunity that he  was  looking  for.
He embarked from New York to Liverpool, thence to Havre, where he
presented himself at the Hotel de Ville and offered his services as an
American volunteer. At this time the French military authorities were
not accepting volunteers as readily as  they  did  later  on,  so  Paul
had  much difficulty in getting rolled in the service as a Franc-tireur.
A few days after he had landed in Havre, he was marching away with  a
chassepot rifle on his shoulder and a knap-sack and blanket on his back.
His uniform consisted of a black tunic with yellow trimmings,  blue
pants  with wide red stripe along the side, a red sash bound around the
waist, over which circled the belt which supported his sabre, bayonet
and revolver. It also held an arm, the only one of the kind in his
company, viz: a bowie knife which he had carried from America. Shoes,
leather gaiters  and kepi or cap completed the uniform. The company was
about sixty strong, all picked men and Paul was the only foreigner in
the lot. It was  known as la Deuxieme Compagnie Franc-tireurs du Havre.
The only visible difference between the regular  and  the  irregular
army  was  the  lack  of regulation buttons on the latter, and that they
had no commissary department and had to provision themselves as they
went. Their pay was thirty sous (cents) per day and they received their
salary every morning. Out of this they were supposed to support
themselves.  Notwithstanding  this small pay it was the highest given to
any body of troops in the French army, as the regulars received but six
cents per day, but the Government furnished them with provisions. The
company was divided into six messes of ten men each. One of the ten had
to act as cook  when  it  came  his turn, while others were told off to
visit the farm houses in the vicinity of the camp to purchase the
necessary provisions. At this time Paul's knowledge of French was very
limited; but the Marschal de Logis, a petty officer and a Havre pilot
named Vodry  could  speak  English  after  a fashion. They acted as
interpreters for him and gave him instructions in French. In the few
weeks the  company  was  camped  near  Havre,  Paul acquired a little
knowledge of the most necessary words and learned thoroughly to
understand the commands given in French. He was instructed in the manual
of arms by the Marschal de Logis. The command from his instructor such
as "portez  armes,"  "armes  a  gauche,"  "a  droit"  sounded strangely
in Paul's ears. During his previous military career with the freebooting
revolutionists of Mexico, there had been no drill  whatever. Before the
orders arrived to proceed to the front, he was sufficiently acquainted
with the commands and terms to pass muster with  any  in  the company.
While still in camp, the news of the fall of Sedan was received and the
tireurs were hurried forward to the vicinity of Paris on which the
Prussians were rapidly advancing. Their first engagement was at Creteil.
They did skirmishing for the army of General Vinoy, who had  about
fifteen thousand men. This was on the 11th of Dec., 1870. The engagement
opened early in the morning by the Franc-tireurs  and  skirmishers  on
the hills of Mely. They were soon dislodged by the powerful artillery
fire of the enemy and retreated to Charenton. Five of Paul's company
were killed in the engagement and several wounded. After this they were
engaged almost daily in skirmishing  and  light  engagements  around
Paris. During those stirring times all was pleasant confusion. Paul knew
nothing of what was going on, except through the reports of his comrades
and they were but half understood; but that they were being slowly and
surely driven back was apparent to him. In many of the engagements with
the enemy, while several of their skirmishes were successful, he noticed
that the tireurs never  pursued  them  in  the  direction  in  which
they retired. One day near Evereux the company to which Paul belonged
saw a balloon coming towards them and a cloud of dust on the  road  far
below showed them that a party of Uhlans were pursuing. At the time the
balloon was rapidly descending. The company was ordered into ambush  on
each side of the road, while the Uhlans with upturned eyes and the
occasional popping of a carbine at the balloon, dashed along the road
unconscious of the hidden enemy. As they rode past the ambush, the order
was given to fire. Twenty riderless horses dashed madly  up  and  down
the  road, while the balance of the Uhlans sought safety in flight. The
balloon descended but a short distance from thee scene of the engagement
and  was found to contain a man named Du Norof. He had with him
dispatches from Paris which was then besieged. Their next engagement was
at Martes. They were then under command of General Mocquard, a brave
soldier who was always seen well to the front mounted on a little wiry
Arab  steed.  Soon after this engagement the company, to which many new
faces had been added to fill up the gaps caused by the shot and shells
of the  enemy,  was joined to the Arme de la Loire.


On the 7th of October, the Franc-tireurs skirmished and opened the
engagement at Tourey. This struggle lasted from seven in the  morning
until noon and many of their number bit the dust. Here for the first
time  Paul  saw  the  Turcos,  a  French-African  regiment,  who
distinguished themselves during the fight. Forty-seven prisoners were
conveyed from the field by the survivors of Paul's company. On the 9th
of  October  the great battle of Orleans commenced, which lasted for two
days. The battle was a desperate one, and losses on both sides were
great. The enormous armies engaged in this battle, the marching and
counter-marching so rapid, and the deafening roar of the artillery, all
added to confuse  Paul, and he did not know that the army was in retreat
until told by one of his companions. From that time until January, '71,
the Franc-tireurs were engaged in many skirmishes and harassed the enemy
whenever an opportunity presented itself. But they were slowly and
surely driven back by  the great and well disciplined army of Germany
until they crossed the Seine and found themselves in the Department of
Seine  Inferieure,  that  was then invaded by the advance corps of the
enemy. Notwithstanding all the scenes of carnage that Paul  witnessed,
and  the  dangers  surrounding them, he has remarked that those were the
happiest days of his life; free from all business troubles and with no
property on earth except  that contained in his knapsack. The old spirit
of mischief that deeply imbued his nature was continually asserting
itself, and he was always  happy, no matter how somber were his
surroundings. Notwithstanding all the dangers he had passed through, he
only received two  slight  wounds,  which quickly healed on his healthy
body. In the part of France they were now encamped the peasants were
rich though very economical. They had a holy horror of the Franc-
tireurs, and when they heard of a company approaching, orders were given
to the sturdy servant girls to convey all  poultry to a place of safety.
The place selected was generally the bedroom of the farm house, where
the fowls roosted in tranquility on  the  head  and foot of the bed
while the disappointed Franc-tireurs searched in vain for material for
their soup. As before  stated,  when  the  Franc-tireurs camped, parties
were detailed to purchase provisions for the different messes. Two would
go after bread and  beef,  two  after  coffee,  sugar, etc., and yet
another two after potatoes and vegetables. The last detail was always
the favorite of Paul and his friend Vodry, the  pilot.  The majority of
French peasants generally believed Americans were wild Indians. Paul and
his friend utilized this belief to their own advantage  in this fashion:
Taking a sack with them they would depart for one of the  surrounding
farm  houses;  concocting  a  scheme  on  their  way  that invariably
met with success. Before reaching the house they separated, Vodry going
in advance with the sack. When he entered the kitchen of the spotlessly
clean Normandy farm house, he would politely remove his cap and in a
most courteous and insinuating manner inform the  inmates  that he was
from the Franc-tireur's camp, and came for the purpose of purchasing
some pommes de terre (potatoes). At the announcement that he was  a
Franc-tireur, his reception was never cordial; but knowing that they
were compelled by the government to sell provisions to this branch of
the army, as a general thing they sullenly complied with the request.
Vodry's good manners and pleasing address  usually  caused  them  to
relent. While the potatoes were being gingerly measured out, he would
have them interested in some story of the war, which would invariably
end up with the query: "By the way, did you know that we had an American
in our company?"


This information immediately aroused their curiosity and they showered
questions on him in regard the customs of the wild creature. Vodry  then
entertained them with the tale of how Paul had left his distant home,
thousands of miles away and crossed the  ocean  to  fight  for  La Belle
France. He generally finished by saying: "Perhaps you would like to see
him; he accompanied me on my way over, but as a general thing  he does
not like to come into a house so he remained outside while I came in."


Then without waiting for an answer he would step to the door and loudly
hail the American. Paul would quickly appear from around some out-house
or hay stack. Hi appearance would be far different from that which he
presented at roll call. A slouch hat filled with  feathers  waved around
his head in graceful confusion, a silver gray poncho blanket covered his
uniform, outside of which was wrapped his revolver  and bowie  knife.
Several daubs of wet brick dust and blue pencil marks adorned his face.
In response to Vodry's call he would bound in with a yell that made the
windows in the farm house rattle. He saluted the farmer with a vigorous
shake of the hand and gracefully kissed the hand of the  good  dame  of
the house and her daughters, if she happened to have any, then stolidly
walking around the kitchen he would examine all different utensils  and
instruments with an absorbing interest as if he never saw such things
before. While observing him both with awe and admiration for his
devotion to France, they would exclaim, "What a good child, what a brave
fellow," etc., etc.


Finding that the time for action had arrived, Paul would approach the
farmer and while ringing his hand, would say in  broken  French: "Cognac
bon, cognac bon." The enthusiastic and sympathetic mistress of the house
would immediately say:


"Ah, the poor boy wants a drop of cognac! Get him some father!" The
reluctant farmer procured a big bottle and a very diminutive glass known
as the "petit verre," which held about a thimbleful. Paul would
congratulate the good dame on her keen perception.  At  this  period
Vodry  would generally object saying:


"It is not good to give him cognac as the Americans can not control
themselves when they take liquor."


His objections were over ruled and the farmer presented Paul with a
miserable little glass full to the brim. This Paul insisted that the
matron should drink first and on its being replenished he more
emphatically insisted that the farmer should drink before him.  While
the  farmer  was drinking, Paul generally secured the bottle as if to
relieve him from its charge while drinking. The moment he secured it he
gave a wild  whoop and placing it to his lips took a seemingly long
swig, after which he executed a fantastic war dance around the kitchen
to  the  alarm  of  the farmer and his worthy family who were only to
glad to see him disappear through the door, Vodry remaining to
remonstrate with them in regard to their folly in having given fire-
water to this untutored child of the forest. He assured them that if he
could  procure  the  liquor  he  would return it, and then shouldering
his bag of potatoes expressed the most profound sorrow at the
occurrence. He would not proceed far until he was waylaid by Paul who
was concealed in some hedge or dyke and the two conspirators resumed
their way  to  the  camp.  That  evening  Paul's  mess enjoyed the much
cherished coffee and cognac so dear to every French heart.


The Gardes Mobiles, a large number of which were in this part of France,
were  regiments  formed  of  clerks,  lawyers,  merchants  and  other
citizens, many of whom volunteered and were formed into an army to
assist the regulars and Franc-tireurs in repelling the invasion.  They
were brave fellows but unsophisticated in the ways of war. They were
well supplied with nice blankets and abundance of provisions as they
were never camped far from their native places. This branch of the
service was looked upon by the fight-worn and weather  beaten  Franc-
tireurs  as  their lawful prey. To be camped near one of them was looked
upon as a direct gift from above. At  such  times  the  Franc-tireurs
never  thought  of cutting wood for themselves. They frequently changed
their dirty and dilapidated blankets for the fresh warm ones of the
inexperienced Mobiles.


Hares abound in this part of France and many of them helped to make soup
for the freebooters. So  frequently  had  the  shots  been  heard  and
needless alarms raised that a strict order was given out that there was
to be no firing unless at an enemy. One day Paul was doing  duty  as  a
sentinel on an outpost, when a large, fat hare appeared on a little
hillock not thirty yards from where he stood. Before  he  remembered
about the order he had raised his rifle and sent a bullet crashing
through its body. Paul had no time to pick up the hare before he  saw
the  relief advancing on "double quick." So he stood on his post,
saluted the officer in command, and in reply to his inquiry said that
his  gun  had  gone off accidentally. The officer scrutinized him
closely, then looking around soon discovered the cause of the accident.
He sent a soldier for the hare, examined it, and placed Paul under
arrest, at the same time remarking "that for an accidental discharge of
a gun it had a most remarkable effect and that only an American could
cause such an accident." After a few hours detention in the guard house,
Paul was allowed  his  liberty. Being the only foreigner, he was a
favorite in the company and many of his escapades were overlooked, if a
Frenchman had  been  guilty  of  the same he would have been severely
punished. The captain of Paul's company at this time was an officer
whose voice was very weak,  and  he  could never finish a command in the
same pitch he had started. He invariably broke down, and the command
which was commenced in  a  stentorian  voice was ended in a hoarse
whisper. This peculiarity often caused the Franc-tireurs to smile. One
morning  the  company  was  ready  to  march;  the captain, mounted on a
powerful horse, was at their head. Wheeling about and drawing his sword
he gave  the  orders:  "Attencion  compagnie!  En evant." He then
suddenly broke down and paused to recover his breath and Paul in a low
undertone and in exact imitation of the  captain,  added the word that
ought to follow, "Mar-r-che!"

This drew forth a smothered laugh from the whole company. The captain
turned fiercely around and demanded to know who it was that mimicked
him. Dead silence prevailed. He gave them a lecture on the respect due
to an officer and stated that  the  next  offender  of  this  kind would
be severely punished; then added: "I can't find out who it was, but on
my soul I believe it was that sacre American."


After this the company took part in many engagements through Normandy,
principally at St. Roumain, Beuzeville, Yvetot, Rouen  and  Bulbec.  The
company suffered severely and in the last battle were a mere handful.
There they lost their brave lieutenant Boulonger, who  was  shot through
the breast. Paul and a party of his companions were detailed to convey
the body to Havre, his home, where he was well known and respected. Here
Paul saw for the first time in his life the French military burial Mass.
This was the most solemn ceremony he had  ever witnessed.  The  great
cathedral was draped in crape, which added to the already somber
appearance of the surroundings. The coffin of the lieutenant  was
carried  on the shoulders of four Franc-tireurs and deposited on a bier
near the altar. The soldiers then retired and joined their comrades.
Every gun  was polished and every bayonet shone as the Franc-tireurs and
about four hundred of the mobiles and regulars marched with military
precision  into the cathedral. No soldier's cap was removed, while the
citizens stood around with bare heads. An officer occupied a position on
the  steps  of the altar and with unsheathed sword faced the soldiers,
then standing in the body of the church. He gave orders in a loud  voice
at  intervals during the service and his commands sounded strangely
through the echoing arches of the cathedral. At the order "restez
armes," the  iron  shod butts of the muskets dropped together on the
stone floor, reminding those present of the stern realities of war and
the sweet  consolations  of religion.


At the elevation of the sacred host, came the orders "Portez armes,"
"Presenter armes," "a genoux." Every  soldier's  right  knee  touched
the floor and remained there while the muskets were held "a presenter."
The solemn tones of the gong  floated  through  the  cathedral.  When
they ceased, the sharp order of "debout" rang out and all were on their
feet in an instant. At the conclusion of the ceremony, the  body  was
again carried out; a line was formed while the band struck up a mournful
dirge, and they marched to the cemetery as escort of  their  lost  and
well loved officer.


The survivors of the company to which Paul belonged were now drafted
into the regular army in the section known as "Bataillon Des
Tirailleurs." Paul did not relish the change from the free and easy life
of the Franc-tireurs to the strict discipline of the regular army.  The
company  to which he was joined had two "Gatling guns" or
"Mitrailleuses" as the French called them. It was drill, drill all day
long and as  the  pay  was now only six cents a day and payments only
once a week, they had but little chance to play their favorite game of
"Petit paquet," a  game  that had been more regular than prayers in the
camp of the "Franc-tireurs." Having become thoroughly drilled in the use
of  the  "Gatling  gun"  the company was ordered to the front. One
evening a comrade said to Paul: "We will  have  bloody  work  to-morrow.
General  Menteuffel's  army  is advancing and all the out posts have
been driven in." But the expected battle was never fought. That night
news came that caused a  heavy  gloom to settle on the camp. No longer
the laughing joke passed from comrade to comrade. No longer the
patriotic songs were heard through  the  camp. Bronzed heads were bowed
in sorrow and tears trickled down many a cheek. Paul anxious to know the
cause of the  general  depression,  asked  an officer what was the
matter and received the answer: "Paris has fallen." Soon after came the
news of the armistice and that  no  more  fighting should take place for
thirty days. Notwithstanding the armistice and the conditions that
neither army should  move,  the  "Mitrailleuses"  were advanced to a
favorable point nearer the enemy and the heavy and constant drill
resumed.


All expected that hostilities would continue at the close of the
armistice. The two armies lay within plain sight of each other.
Discipline was strictly enforced; several French soldiers were executed
for neglect and disobedience of orders. One cold night Paul stood two
hours guard over a Gatling gun that was placed in a shed with no sides
and the fierce, cold wind whistled and penetrated his very bones. He was
worn out with  a heavy day's drill and concluded that he could watch the
gun as well above in the shelter as by standing alongside.  He  mounted
the  beam  and stretched himself out on a board. He knew, that it was
instant death to be caught sleeping on guard, but he could not refrain
from closing  his eyes and was soon in a fretful slumber from which he
was awakened by the crunching of the frozen snow under the feet of the
advancing  relief. Quick as lightning he dropped to his post and sang
out the hail: "Halt, who comes?" the answer sounded, "France." On being
questioned  by  the officer why he did not hail them sooner, according
to orders, he assured him that, "the words had been frozen down his
throat and he could  not get them out sooner." The gay Frenchman laughed
at his unique excuse and relieved him; but it was a close call for Paul.
Before  the  armistice was ended, the news of the peace declared arrived
in camp and soon after orders were given to march for Havre.

The discipline of the regulars was never enjoyed by Paul, neither was
their commissary department. Horse flesh was served  out  three  times a
week. On other days they received pork and beef. Coffee, sugar, rice,
bread and wine were served every second day. The  two  day's  rations of
wine never lasted over fifteen seconds. The trade in tobacco is
monopolized by  the  French  Government.  Who  ever  bore  an  order
from  his commanding officer could receive a certain amount by simply
paying for the tax stamp. On railroad trains the regulars could ride for
one  third and gain admission to theatres and amusement halls at about
the same rate, so that the munificent salary they received of  six cents
per  day enabled them to enjoy themselves in a very limited manner.
Every barracks and military building in Havre was  overflowing with
soldiers;  and when Paul's company arrived they could find no place to
sleep. So they received a document entitled a "billet de logement" that
entitled  them to a bed in the house on which it was drawn. Sometimes
they received an order on the houses in the poorer part of the town  and
again  in  the most aristocratic mansions. As a general rule, when a
billet carried by two war-worn Franc-tireurs was presented at the door
of a chateau,  the proprietor would gracefully excuse himself with many
suave and flattering expressions. He would present the soldiers with two
francs  each  and request them to get a room at the hotel, at the same
time expressing regret at his inability to  oblige  the  gallant
defenders  of  Le  Belle France. His house was just then filled by the
unexpected arrival of some relatives. Feigning sorrow at being deprived
of the supreme  honor  of sleeping under his roof, the Franc-tireurs
would make their adieux. As the door closed they kicked each other for
joy because they had obtained what they appreciated more than a nice
soft bed. They could sleep as soundly in any of the parks or on the lee
side of hogsheads, or  on  bales of cotton on the quay, after they had
enjoyed spending the proceeds of the "billet de logement." The army was
now quickly  disbanded  and  Paul found himself once more a citizen. He
still retained his uniform, for without it he would have been devoid of
clothing.

At this time the Communes were causing the government great trouble in
Paris and regiment after regiment was being hurried thither. With one of
these regiments Paul managed to reach the capital. Being left to his own
resources he was greatly bewildered. The nature of  the  stirring  and
exciting scenes he little comprehended. One evening while passing along
the boulevard near the Madeleine, a soldier wearing the uniform of  the
Foreign Legion peered into his face and eagerly inquired if he could
speak United States. Paul answered, "yes." The  soldier  seemed
delighted and said, "Have you got any money? I am from Baltimore," all
in the same breath. Paul told him that he  had  a  few  francs  and that
he  was perfectly willing to divide and invited him to take dinner.

"I will take dinner gladly with you," responded his new acquaintance,
"but we  had  better  strike  some  cheaper  quarters  than  our present
surroundings."

So the two turning off the boulevard, pursued their way along the narrow
streets until  they  struck  something  more  in  keeping  with  their
financial standing. Here they entered a modest looking cafe and ordered
a ragout. While seated at the table they continued  their  conversation
in English. The sour looking landlord after taking their order eyed them
suspiciously for a few  moments,  while  trying  to  understand  their
conversation. Rushing to the door of an adjoining room he loudly called:

"Corporal, come here. Prussians!"

The room was quickly invaded by a Corporal and one of his friends with
drawn sabres in their hands. Paul and his companion, who saw  that  they
were about to be attacked, grabbed chairs and backed into a corner,
where they defended themselves against the onslaught. Paul  asked  them
in his best French what they meant and assured them that they were not
Prussians but American volunteers. On receiving this information the
sabres were lowered and their assailants put them through an
examination. Receiving satisfactory answers to all their  questions  and
convinced  that Paul and his friend were what they represented
themselves to be, the Frenchmen gravely begged to be pardoned and warmly
invited them  into  the adjoining room to take supper in their company.
During supper Paul ascertained that their entertainers were officers in
the Communes that  were organizing in all parts of Paris. They were
invited to join the ranks of the "liberators" as the called themselves;
after  the  reception  they had received from the gentlemen they wisely
thought they had better acquiesce, so they were duly enrolled. That
night they had a  good  lodging provided for them and were told to
report at ten o'clock next morning. During the night Paul and his
Baltimore friend had a long talk over  the situation but they were far
from satisfied. Leonard, the Baltimorean, suggested that before they
took arms up against the government; they  had better investigate a
little further. With this intention they rose very early and started for
a  more  respectable  quarter  of  the  city.  On turning the corner
they were amazed to meet the gentlemanly Corporal, who was trying the
night before to slit their throats. He wanted to  know where they were
going. They plausibly assured him that "as they could not sleep in their
lodgings on account of fleas they had decided to  take a mouthful of
fresh air." "Well" responded the Corporal, "you better take a mouthful
of something else. Come with me and have a 'petit  verre'." They
accompanied him to the café and pretended to enjoy themselves, which
however, they were  far  from  doing.  After  some  conversation  the
Corporal said:

"Mes enfants you must be around here at ten o'clock". They assured him
that they would be on hand and to have no fear.  When  he  had  departed
they quietly stepped out of the café and resumed their walk towards the
Tuilleries. They wandered round and round through  the  narrow  streets
until they utterly lost their bearings. They came at last to a wide
avenue in which there seemed to be great excitement.  The  cafés  were
all full of men and women, the sidewalks were thronged with a mad crowd,
while cries of "Vive la Commune" were heard  on  all  sides.  Through
the crowds on the sidewalks and cafés they observed many soldiers of the
"Gardes Nationales" who were well under the influence of liquor. The
names of "Lecompte," "Thomas" and "Darboy," Paul heard frequently,
mentioned by the half drunken and excited crowd. Then a fierce cheer
echoed  along the street. The women of Monmartre with long ropes
attached to cannons came streaming up the boulevard. It was a wild and
never to be forgotten sight. Many of the women wore army coats over
which their hair floated loose. While one upraised hand grasped a naked
sword or sabre the  other held a rope that dragged the cannon. Through
such exciting scenes as these, Paul and his Baltimore friend lost all
count of the hours.  It  was noon before they thought about their ten
o'clock engagement. Even had they desired  they  could  not  have  found
the  place  owing  to  their bewilderment. Wandering round, they came to
the boulevard near the Rue de la Paix. In this vicinity they saw the
first  engagement  which  took place between the Communists and a body
of citizens called "Les Hommes d'Ordre." While the firing was going on
they stepped in a door way  that sheltered them from the flying bullets.
Shortly afterwards they found themselves on the Rue Rivolo. Here they
saw great bodies National troops. As they were marching past a large
building, Paul noticed an officer whom he recognized as his former
Marechal de Logis in  the  Franc-Tireurs. Calling to his companion he
quickly entered the same building, where they were confronted by a
sentinel. They were permitted to pass  in,  when they informed him that
they wished to see the officer who had just entered, but they failed to
find him. As they we about to retire  they  were stopped by the
sentinel, who refused to permit them to leave.

He called for the Corporal du garde who placed both of them under arrest
and marched them into a room where many officers  were  seated.  Among
them, Paul discovered the one he sought, who also immediately recognized
him and advancing asked him how he came to be in Paris. Paul told  him
he had come to Paris simply through curiosity and if necessary to take a
hand in anything that was going on. Paul  and  his  friend  were  then
introduced to the officers present. One of them, a gray headed old
fellow said:

"Well boys, I think we will find something for you to do; but as this is
a quarrel among Frenchmen, I don't like the  idea  of  any  foreigners
being mixed up in it. However as you are here we might as well use you."

Paul and his companion looked at each other with perplexity for they did
not really know what they were about to join. Turning  to  his  friend
the Marechal de Logis, he told him in English of their adventures of the
night before and asked him if this was the same army as the other. The
officer laughed heartily and translated the story for the benefit of the
others, who all joined him in his mirth. The gray haired man  who  had
first spoken to Paul and who was evidently an officer in high rank said
in pure English:

"Sons, I think you have done enough for France and it is best for you to
leave Paris and go home."

Then calling an orderly he gave instructions that they should be taken
to the rail road station and sent to Havre. Before leaving, he presented
each with twenty-five francs and instructed the orderly to secure them
transportation to the seacoast. The orderly who accompanied them to  the
station was an enthusiastic admirer of everything American. He had a
brother in Quebec, which city he thought was about fourteen miles
outside of New York. So vehement was the hospitality he had pressed on
Paul and his companion that when he entered the station his military
dignity was lost and nothing remained but his idea of treating his
American friends to the best in the land. He placed them in a  first
class  compartment against the remonstrance of the guard, whom with
drawn sabre, he defied to eject them. As the train rolled out of the
station cries of "Vive la France," "Vive l'Amerique," were exchanged.

At Rouen, then held by the Germans who had military guards all around
the station, the train was detained for over half an  hour  owing  to an
accident. While waiting, Paul and his companion left the station to
procure some tobacco. They passed a German soldier on guard at the gate
who did not intercept them. On returning, the sentinel stubbornly
refused them permission to enter notwithstanding the fact that  they
showed  him their pass-ports and transportation; but they could not
persuade him either in French or English to let them pass.  At  this
moment  a  German officer arrived, when Paul advancing told their
situation in French. Taking the transportation card from  Paul's  hand
he  showed  it  to  the sentinel, and after many harsh sounding remarks
in German he struck him with his open hand across the face. The soldier,
still presenting  arms to his superior officer showed no sign of
resentment; not even a flush mounted to his cheek. The officer passed
them in and  Paul  remarked  to him:

"No French soldier would have stood that treatment."

"Possibly not," answered the officer, "but German soldiers know what
discipline is."

On arriving in Havre, Paul found many volunteers placed in the same
position as himself. All were waiting a chance to return to  America;
most of them looking to the French government to assist them home. While
waiting for these orders that were very tardy  in  coming,  Paul  made
the acquaintance of a Danish Count who had served all through the war.
His quiet, gentle manners and evident embarrassment at being  surrounded
by the rough crowd of adventurers and soldiers of fortune with whom Fate
had thrown him, appealed to Paul's sympathy, He said to the Count: "Come
with me and I will take care of you." They secured lodging together on
the upper story in a house in the Rue de  l'Hospital  for the  princely
consideration of one franc a week, which the landlady informed them must
be paid in advance. With the air of a millionaire, Paul paid the  rent
for the first week and cheerfully intimated to the landlady that they
would require the best room in her house as  soon  as their  remittances
arrived. Their room was a miserable affair in the attic, lit up with one
small window. The scant bed clothes often compelled them to  sleep  in
their uniforms of a cold night. When they reached their apartment they
compared notes and found that  all  the money  they  had  between  them
amounted to eight francs and seventy five centimes, (about $1.75).

"We must sail close to the wind now, Count," said the ever cheerful Paul
to the despondent Dane. "With good management we can live  high  on  a
franc a day."

They did not live high, but they subsisted. Paul had entire charge of
the household affairs and he drove  hard  bargains  with  those  whom he
favored with his patronage. The little square, two cent cakes of sausage
were eagerly scrutinized while he weighed the one cent loaves of bread
in his hand. Every two cent herring was examined as closely as a
gourmand would a porter-house steak or some rich  game.  When  the
provisions were secured, Paul returned to their apartment where he
generally found the Count with his head between his hands, seated near
the window. "Now for the banquet," he would exclaim as he lit up a sou's
worth of wood with which to fry the herring. The little squares  of
sausage  would  be placed on the soap dish. At times he prevailed on the
Count to go down and get the cracked pitcher full of water, which made
up  their  morning drinking cordial, while Paul was frying the herring.
After it was cooked, it was scrupulously divided into two  equal  parts
and  they  seated themselves. After meals they generally went out to
ascertain news from the government in regard to sending them home. Some
days  they  treated themselves to a regular table d'hote dinner at a
little eating house kept by a widow on the quay. The cost of this dinner
was thirteen sous and they could not often indulge in such a luxury. As
time advanced things were getting more and more  desperate.  The  Count
was  so  gloomy  and despondent that Paul feared he would end his life
as he had threatened to do several times unless something turned up.
They were  now  indebted to the landlady for two weeks' room rent. She
had a very sharp tongue and used to fire a broadside at them every time
she would meet  them.  In passing her door while ascending or
descending, they generally removed their shoes as they did not wish to
disturb her ladyship for  whom  they entertained great respect. Things
continued to grow worse and worse until at last Paul spent the few last
sous they had on two small loaves and a herring. They did not have even
wood to fry the herring and were compelled to use the stump of a candle,
which remained,  to  cook  it  with. Before retiring that night, Paul
suggested to the Count the necessity of their trying to get some work,
to which  the  Count  replied  that  he would prefer death any time to
the idea of going to work. Long before daylight Paul slipped quietly out
of bed,  dressed  himself  in  his  old uniform and proceeded in the
direction of the docks. Near one of the bridges he saw a large group of
men standing. He joined them  and  learned that they were all waiting
for work, and that they expected the contractor along in a few minutes.
The  boss  soon  made  his  appearance  and commenced reading from a
slip of paper: "I want ten men at such a dock, five men at another
place, eight men at another place  and  twenty-five men at the dry
docks." The crowd separated itself into gangs, Paul joining the one that
was called last. As the men passed the contractor, each one was handed a
slip. When Paul's turn came to get his slip, the contractor looked at
him curiously and said:

"Why, you are an American volunteer, what do you want here?"

"I want work," answered Paul, "and pretty badly too."

"Well," said the contractor: "I am sorry that I have no better job to
give you today, but by to-morrow I will have something better."

Paul followed the gang to the dry docks where a large steamer had been
hauled up. On exhibiting his piece of paper to the foreman, he  received
a three cornered scraper, a piece of sharp steel with a handle about
eighteen inches long. He was told off to  a  certain  plank  suspended
by ropes down the side of the vessel in company with two old dock rats
who eyed him rather sullenly as though he was  an  intruder.  Paul
quickly slipped down the rope and seated himself on the plank, while the
two professors climbed leisurely down and  took  a  seat  on  either
end,  he occupying the middle. The side of the ship was thickly studded
with barnacles and other shell fish. She had just returned from a long
voyage to the tropics and was very foul. The air was chilly and raw down
on the dark, damp stone dock. Paul was  anxious  to  warm  himself,  so
made  a furious onslaught on the barnacles and soon had them flying in
every direction. He stopped for breath and  found  his  companions,
instead  of following his example, were gazing at him with looks of
disgust and astonishment. One of them exclaimed:

"Regard him, look at him!"

While the other, with feigned pity, tapped his forehead with the tips of
his fingers, as much as to say, "He is crazy, my brother." One of them
then placed his hand on Paul's arm and asked him how long he had been
engaged in scraping ship's bottoms.

"This is my first day," answered Paul, thinking he might have done
something wrong.

"I thought so," responded his questioner. "A few more mad men like you
would ruin our work in the dock. Why, at  the  way  you  are  going  the
ship's bottom would be clean before night fall. This is the way to do
it," and he put	his scraper against the side of the vessel and slowly
and laboriously removed a single barnacle. Then he laid the scraper on
the plank beside him and drew out his pipe which he  leisurely  filled
with tobacco and lighted. After taking a few whiffs he asked Paul where
he was from and what caused him to seek work there. Paul fully explained
his position and the cause that compelled him to work. After this, his
two companions seemed to thaw out and entertained him with words of
advice, instructing him in many methods of killing time when the foreman
was not around. At noon all hands were called up out of  the  docks  and
each received a card to the value of two francs, which the foreman told
Paul he could have cashed at the canteen by purchasing a dish of soup or
a small piece of bread. Paul indulged in a five cent dinner and deeply
regretted that the Count was not there to share it with him.  He
received one franc and seventy five centimes which he carefully stowed
away. After dinner the plank was shifted and they resumed work at the
barnacles. Before the six o'clock bell rang to cease work, Paul and his
two preceptors were quite friendly. They told him that if he  intended
to  pursue the business he should remember one thing:

"Never do what you did this morning, that is slip down the ropes first,
particularly when there are three men to work on a  plank,  for,"  they
gravely explained, "the two coming down last would occupy seats close to
the ropes that net only act as a back brace when resting yourself, but
would also be a means of saving your life in case the plank broke; when
you could grab hold on the rope and the man in the middle would drop to
the stones below and be killed. Of course the two clinging to the rope
could be hoisted to the deck or be carefully lowered to the bottom."

At six o'clock Paul received a ticket for two more francs. To get it
cashed, he purchased a glass of wine for two sous and then  started  on
a run for his lodgings where he fully expected to find the Count dead.
He ran the blockade of the landlady's door without the formality of
taking off his shoes. Dashing into the room he exclaimed:

"Count! Count, where are you?"

"Here I am," exclaimed a faint voice from the bed.

"Well, I'm glad you are not dead, we dine at the widow's to-day. Look at
this."

The Count started up and gazed on the seventy-three cents Paul exhibited
with eager eyes, then looking reproachfully at him he said:

"Paul, I hope you have not taken to the highway." "No," said Paul, "I
worked for that and hard too, so come on and we will have such  a dinner
as we have not had in two weeks."

Under the genial influence of the banquet, the Count confessed to Paul
that he had retired to bed in the hope of dying quietly  of  starvation,
providing the landlady had not disturbed him as he felt convinced that
Paul had abandoned him. That night the landlady received one week's room
rent and graciously gave them three days more to settle up in full. Paul
was out again before daylight and sought out the contractor. This  day
he got a job on the ship Fanita of San Francisco, discharging grain. It
was much cleaner and easier than scraping the steamer's bottom. His job
was to guide the sacks of grain out of the hold while a horse on the
dock attached to a long line passed over a block hoisted them up. While
at this work the two mates of the ship stood near the hatchway and
commenced making remarks about Paul whom they thought was a Frenchman.

"There is one of those French soldiers," said one.

"Yes," added the other; "he looks pretty hungry and thin; it is no
wonder the Dutch licked them."

Paul smiled, but said nothing until a better opportunity presented
itself, when he entered into  conversation  with  the  mate,  who  was
much surprised to find that he was an American. At dinner time he was
invited into the galley and regaled with a sea-pie until he was scarcely
able to hail "Allons" to the driver of the horse on the dock, when he
resumed work in the afternoon. That evening he was engaged by the
captain  of the vessel to keep tally on the sacks at five francs per
diem. A few days later an order was issued from the Hotel de Ville  that
all  foreign volunteers should assemble there. A hundred and twelve
responded to the call and a motley group  mustered  from  all  quarters
of  the  globe, representing every branch of the French service and
wearing every conceivable kind of a uniform. Notwithstanding the fact
that  some  of  them were from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Ireland,
Belgium, etc., they all wanted to be sent to America. The mayor informed
them that arrangements had been made to transport them there at the
expense of the French Government. He also said that he was authorized to
give each volunteer  the  sum of twenty-five francs, a mattress, blanket
and a supply of tin-ware. This joyful news was received with loud cries
of "Vive la France! Vive  la Republique!" and three hearty cheers were
given for the mayor. As the volunteers joyously dispersed, an officer
informed Paul  that  the  mayor wished to see him in his private office.
When he entered, His Honor informed him that he desired him to take
charge of the men on their passage over.

"I know they are a pretty wild lot, and no doubt will not obey orders,
still I will depend upon you to do your utmost to keep them  quiet,  and
not have them disgrace the uniform they wear."

He then gave Paul a strong letter of recommendation commending him for
his courage and service to France, also presenting him with the arms  he
bore in the service. To this day Paul retains his chassepot as a memento
of the happy,  careless  days  he  passed,  while  serving  under  the
Tricolor of France.

Two days after, all the foreign volunteers were mustered to embark on
the steamer Stromboli, the authorities taking the precaution not to give
them the promised twenty-five francs until they had passed up the gang-
plank. As the steamer moved out of Havre  the  citizens  turned out  in
large numbers to bid them God speed. And when the bows of the steamer
were kissed by the waves of the channel, the boys were all pretty
hoarse shouting "Vive la France" in exchange for the cries of "Vive
l'Amerique," that was sent over the water to them from the mighty crowd
on shore.

The voyage to Liverpool was an uneventful one and the volunteers behaved
well with the  exception  of  emptying  a  cask  of  wine  which  they
conscientiously filled again with water. This was the property of two
French passengers who spent most of their time playing cards on deck and
whose amazement when they discovered that their wine bad turned into
water, knew no bounds. When the volunteers arrived in Liverpool they
found that the steamer England of the National, which was to convey them
to the United States was broken down, so they were compelled  to  remain
in Liverpool several days at the expense of the steamship company, until
the Virginia of the same line was ready to sail.

While in Liverpool they were treated very well and aroused a great deal
of interest owing to their varied uniforms and war-stained  appearance.
While Paul and three of his companions were slowly sauntering one
morning watching the sights, they beheld smoke proceeding from  the
basement of a rubber store from which the affrighted employees were
madly rushing. Paul grabbed one of them and asked him if there  was
water  anywhere around, and was informed that there was both water and
hose attached in the basement, but that he would be smothered if he
attempted  to  reach it. Without hesitation, Paul plunged into the
basement, and fortunately came on the hose. Turning on the water he
pushed his way  back  through the thick smoke and soon had the fire
under control. It was a heap of rubbish and scrap rubber that emitted
far more smoke than flame. When the fire engines arrived, it was found
that they had nothing to do and the proprietor was so well pleased that
he gave Paul five pounds.

When the Virginia was ready to sail, all the soldiers were transferred
off to her in lighters. On reaching the deck they were all examined  for
revolvers and other weapons that when found were immediately placed in
the charge of the quarter-master to be returned on  reaching  New  York.
There were a number of German emigrants and the steamship officers
thought there might be some trouble. Besides the soldiers, there were
eight hundred emigrants from different parts of Europe, mostly from
Ireland and about fifty cabin passengers. The voyage was very rough and
occupied twenty-one days. Many a wild trick was played in that steerage.
Many a skirmish was nipped in the bud through the watchful care of the
officers of the Virginia, which otherwise might have led to bloodshed.
The favorite amusement was cutting down hammocks. Dark forms might be
seen on all fours making their way on the greasy and slippery deck in
the direction of selected victims. The sharp blade of a knife would be
drawn  across the taut cord that supported the hammock. Then an uproar
that awakened the entire steerage would take place.  If  the  one  who
was  cut  down happened to be an Irishman, he would loudly challenge all
the passengers to come up and fight him, not caring whether  they  came
in  ones  or hundreds. His invitation not being accepted he would
generally pounce upon some unfortunate swinging near, and a scuffle
would ensue  in  which the contestants were encouraged by hundreds of
yells and cat-calls that would bring every steward on the ship into the
steerage.

During the long voyage the soldiers suffered greatly from want of
tobacco. The ship's doctor, a little Irishman  from  Dublin,  often
supplied them with the much needed article, and he had more influence
over them than all the other officers on board. His quick wit one day
prevented  a fight that threatened to end most seriously. It was one of
the few fine days that they experienced in the passage  and  all  the
hatches  were being removed for fresh air. A German emigrant drew a
knife on one of the soldiers and made a vicious slash  at  him.  Sides
were  immediately formed between the soldiers and emigrants and the
fight commenced right under the main hatch. It was interrupted by loud
cries from above:

"Here you are! Here is what you want. Stop that fighting!"

Looking up they perceived the little doctor seated above with a large
supply of tobacco, which he was throwing among the contestants. The
fight stopped immediately, all scrambling for the much coveted weed.
Before the supply was exhausted their good humor  was  restored  and the
fight forgotten.

On arriving in New York the volunteers scattered in every direction.
Paul and his friend the Count started for his home. Their odd uniforms
and equipments attracted much curiosity and comment. At this time,
Paul's mother and elder brother  owned  a  store  on  Broadway  near
Thirteenth street, and when he entered in his French uniform, his mother
did not know him. On recognizing him  she  almost  fainted.  She  had
been  told nothing about his being in the French army and believed he
was off on one of his usual voyages. Paul discarded his uniform and  was
once  more attired as a citizen.

While in New York, the Count received a heavy remittance from Denmark.
He insisted that Paul must share in remembrance of the dark days when he
had stood his friend, in Havre. He also consulted Paul as to what
enterprise or adventure they should next embark.  At  this  time
expeditions were being secretly sent out from New York to aid the Cubans
in their struggle for liberty. Paul thought this the most promising
enterprise  in which to engage and the Count readily acquiesced. They
secured the address of an agent in the lower part of the  city  with
whom  they  had  a consultation and it was agreed that they should leave
on the next expedition under  General  Jordan;  but  the  expedition
never  sailed.  The schooner was captured off Sandy Hook. They returned
in company with a lot of others as violators of the neutrality law and
spent  two  days  in the Tombs. While there they were recipients of
generous  supplies  of  pies  and  other  delicacies  and  beautiful
flowers  from  fair  Cuban sympathizers, and looked upon their discharge
as a misfortune. After this the Count requested Paul to go to California
with him, but the latter refused as he had decided to take another trip
to the West Indies and pursue his former occupation of diving. He had
sent letters  to  his  old friend Captain Balbo with whom he often
corresponded, and impressed the Count so with the description of the
life they should  lead  among  the sunny islands that he consented to
join in the enterprise. They commenced negotiations for the purchase of
the submarine armour  and  necessary appliances and only waited to hear
from Captain Balbo before purchasing them. A letter from Nassau at last
arrived informing Paul of the  death of his old friend which caused him
sincere regret and of course changed their plans. While still hesitating
about what  to  do,  a  letter  was received by the Count requesting him
to return immediately to Denmark. It was so urgent and of such
importance  that  he  sailed  by  the  next steamer.




CHAPTER VI.

After the Count's departure Paul joined a submarine company in New York
and pursued the occupation  of  diver  for  over  six  months.  He  was
wonderfully successful and when he resigned he had the largest salary of
any diver in their employ.  The  cause  of  his  resignation  was  the
reports he had had heard about the diamond fields in South Africa. He
determined to cast his fortune with the diamond hunters that  were going
from different parts of the world to the promised "Eldorado,"

Having secured a supply of implements and stores that he considered
necessary, he took passage on the tall rigged ship Albatross, commanded
by a friend of his. The Albatross was bound for China by way of Cape
Town, and the captain promised to land him there. They had a  long,
pleasant voyage, during which Paul spent his time shooting at sharks
over the side and trolling for fish. One day in the vicinity  of  the
equator  his hook was snapped by a dolphin, which he succeeded in
bringing to the deck. It was laid on the shady-side of the galley and
the sailors  watched with great, curiosity the innumerable tints which
radiated from its body. This transition in color  was  considered  by
the  on-lookers  as  a visible evidence of the pain which it suffered.
Picking up an ax Paul quickly dispatched it. In passing the equator the
usual  tom-foolery  of receiving Neptune and baptizing those who had
never crossed the line before, was enjoyed with one slight exception.
The imitation  of  the  god Neptune when coming out of the fore chains
over the bow, missed his footing and fell into the sea. Fortunately for
him the ship was becalmed at the time. With the aid of a line and a boat
hook which one of his mates fastened firmly to his collar, he was drawn
aboard. His appearance  was certainly far from god-like. Paul often
enjoyed the conversation of sun old sailor named Joe Clark.  He  was  a
misanthropist  at  the  unjust inequality that existed in the conditions
of life, and often sung a verse of his own composition which gave him
intense  satisfaction,  as  he chanted it while sewing sails or making
sennet. It consisted of a few lines, the import of which was, that no
matter how rich or  gorgeous  the outer apparel might be, all alike have
to eat, drink and die. He was a typical tar and proved a source of
continual amusement to Paul.  He  had sailed a long time with the
captain of the Albatross on different ships, and the captain told Pau

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