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.