While in Philadelphia he met the President of the Camden & Atlantic
Railroad Company, who was desirous of negotiating with him in regard
to taking charge of the life saving service at Atlantic City, a great
watering place at the ocean terminus of the road. After a few
interviews, the arrangements were made and the contract signed. Paul was
installed as captain of a station built out on the beach and equipped
with all kinds of life saving apparatus. During the seasons of 1873 and
1874 he held this position and so careful his watch and so efficient his
system that not a single life was lost, and when he left the service he
had the glorious record of having saved seventy-one lives. He also spent
much of his time perfecting his appliances. It was while in this service
that his attention was first attracted to the life saving dress in which
he afterwards became so famous. As this dress will often be alluded to
in the pages to follow, it may be well at this time to give
its description:
It was invented by C. S. Merriman of Iowa, and consists of a pants and
tunic made of highly vulcanized rubber. When the pants are put on the
tunic is pulled over the head and down over a steel band at the upper
part of the pants where it is firmly secured by a rubber strap. All
portions of the body are covered except the face. There are five air
chambers in the costume; one at the back of the head which acts as
a pillow and when fully inflated it draws the thin rubber around the
face so that no water can wash down. The other chambers are situated in
the back, breast, and around each leg from the hip to the knee. The
entire dress weighs about thirty-five pounds. When in water, the wearer
of this suit can be horizontal or perpendicular on the surface. When
standing upright, the water reaches to about the breast. When voyaging,
he propels himself by a light double bladed paddle six feet long. He
assumes the horizontal position feet foremost and some times uses a sail
to help him along. During the winter of 1873 and spring 1874, Paul
devoted much of his time to experimenting in this dress and became very
expert in its use. His fearlessness in the water was no doubt of great
aid to him. Many a fine, warm summer night he spent far out at sea in
his dress and dreamed of the many voyages he would make in the future;
but he never for a moment imagined the fame he would acquire in after
years or the extraordinary voyages he would make through its means;
but he thought of the thousands of lives that would be saved by this
dress if properly introduced to the world. With the confidence of
youth and the strength of manhood he was willing to take any chances to
attain this object. At this time his passion for life saving amounted
to a craze. He studied long and deeply on the best method to attract the
world's attention. At last he struck upon a plan which he considered a
good one and which he determined to put into execution at the close of
the life saving season.
In the fall of 1874 he proceeded to New York. He spent a week with his
mother, to whom, however, he did not confide his intention, fearing that
it might worry her. His plan was to take passage on an outward bound
vessel and when two hundred miles off the American coast to drop
overboard and make the best of his way back to land. For this voyage he
secured a rubber, water-tight bag with air chambers sufficient to
support about fifty pounds of provisions. It also contained a
compartment for fresh water. Into this bag he packed sufficient
provisions in a condensed form to last him ten days; also two dozen
signal lights with striker for same, some rockets, compass and a knife.
Besides this his baggage consisted of his suit, a strong double bladed
axe to be used for protection against sharks or sword fish. He
innocently boarded several vessels and confided his intentions to
the captains. They unanimously agreed that no attempt at suicide should
be made off their vessel, for such they termed his enterprise. The
newspapers at this time got hold of the plan and made it a subject of
fun. Tired at failure to get a captain to take him off shore, Paul
decided to adopt another plan. So on Saturday, October 11th, 1874, he
quietly walked up the gangplank of the National Line Steamship
Company's steamer The Queen. He carried his little store of baggage as
if it was the property of one of the passengers. He walked forward
and deposited his stuff; then mingled among the crowd. It was not his
intention to cross the ocean so he neglected the necessary form of
purchasing a ticket. When The Queen steamed away from her dock, Paul
descended into the steerage and stowed away his outfit in an unoccupied
bunk. From that time until Sunday evening, he kept very quiet and no one
on board knew of his intentions. About eight o'clock he slipped on
deck and under the shelter of a life boat commenced to dress himself in
the suit. The weather had been fair and the steamer was making good
headway so he calculated she was at that time two hundred and fifty
miles out. He was quickly dressed in his armor, and with the rubber bag
in one hand and the paddle in the other he was about to make a leap into
the sea, when a hand was laid roughly on his shoulder and a gruff voice
said:
"Here, where are you going?"
Paul mildly explained that he was going ashore. The deck was all
excitement in a moment as the deck hand loudly reported to the officer
on the bridge.
"Bring him aft," was the command.
Equipped in his strange looking dress, bag in one hand, paddle in the
other and an ax strapped to his side and firmly gripped by two sailors,
Paul was ushered back. They were followed by a crowd of curious
passengers. On the captain perceiving him he exclaimed:
"Ah! Boyton you are aboard of me. Take off that suit and pass it over to
the steward."
Paul remonstrated and told the captain that he had no ticket to
Liverpool. He thought this confession would excuse him and cause the
captain to assist in his return to America; but the captain would not
even let him put himself off. Paul was compelled to undress and his
entire outfit was turned over to the steward with orders to place it in
the captain's cabin. The latter then took Paul into the chart room,
where he had a long conversation with him. All Paul's pleadings and
excuses that he was not prepared and that he would get safely back on
shore were made in vain. The captain told him not to worry about his
ticket, and requested the steward to give him an unoccupied bunk in the
officer's quarters.
Paul's disappointment could not be described in words. He was in no way
prepared for the enforced voyage to Europe having but one suit of
clothing and only fifty dollars in cash. He had presented his entire
salary with the exception of the money he had, to his mother
before leaving New York, with the excuse that he was simply going down
the coast and did not need it. The quarters given to him by Captain
Bragg were very comfortable and his treatment was of the kindest. The
next day the captain sent for Paul and they had a long talk. The captain
drew from him many of his former experiences and adventures and was
favorably impressed by the frank, open nature of the young fellow. He
sympathized with him in his too apparent disappointment and shared his
earnest desire to introduce an apparatus that would be the means of
saving the lives of many sea-faring men. The captain promised that
should they reach the Irish coast in good weather, he would allow Paul
to go off and thus carry out his original idea on the European
coast, which he assured him would be just as effective as on the
American side. During the trip across, Paul spent much time with the
captain in the chart room. While they studied over the charts, the
captain pointed out to Paul one place off the Irish coast and several
in the Irish sea where he could make a landing in either Ireland or
England. The place selected by Paul was off the coast of Ireland in the
vicinity of Cape Clear, as he was assured he could get under the lee of
the island in case of a high wind from any direction. The news of the
captain's permission to Boyton to leave the vessel when off the Irish
coast, was spread among the passengers and every one, both fore and
aft, manifested the most lively interest in the experiment. Some of the
officers protested vigorously against it. Captain Bragg was a
determined man and when he gave the word the only course was to obey
him. On the evening of Tuesday, the 21st, the captain called Paul into
the chart room and said:
"We are now nearing the Irish coast and the barometer is as low down as
I have seen it for many a year and there is every indication of a gale.
The coast you intend to land on acts as a breakwater for all northern
Europe and the waves that pile up on it during a storm are something
astounding. The cliffs that resist them are from one hundred and eighty
to three hundred feet high and they are as straight up and down as a
mainmast in a calm. Cape Clear that I expect to sight soon lays several
miles off the mainland. On it is a powerful light that will guide you.
The gale may not break for some time yet if you can make the Cape, you
can drop around to leeward and land on it. And when the weather clears
you can cross to the main."
Having thus explained the nature of the coast they were then rapidly
approaching and the possibility of a gale which might dash him to
pieces against the cliffs, the captain requested Paul to defer his
experiment until they reached some part of the Irish sea where a landing
could be made with more safety to himself. Paul was anxious and eager
to get overboard and firmly held the captain to his word.
"As I have promised I will stand by it," said the captain.
At nine o'clock that night Paul fully prepared, with ax, paddle and bag
securely lashed to him, was ready to leave. It was a wild, dark night.
Great swells caused The Queen to roll heavily. In a few moments the cry
of "A light on the port bow, sir" rang over the decks.
"That's Cape Clear," said the captain, "Now, Boyton, if you are ready,
I'll stop her."
"Ready and willing," was Paul's response.
At this moment the first officer approached and earnestly remonstrated
with the captain saying:
"This will cause us all trouble. This man will surely lose his life."
The answer to his protestation was:
"On the bridge there, stop her."
The great screw ceased to beat the foaming water behind and The Queen
glided along with her own impetus.
"Good night captain! Good night ladies and gentlemen," said Paul as he
stepped over the rail and grasping a rope commenced to descend the side.
The vessel rolled heavily to port; he felt the sea around his feet, then
up to his armpits. He let go the rope and kicked himself vigorously
off the side. A loud cheer of farewell echoed over the waters. The
vessel driving rapidly forward soon left Paul behind. He stood upright
in the water and shouted cheerfully.
"All right captain, I'm all right."
His cheery call was echoed by the command "All right, go ahead."
A few moments after the lights of the Queen disappeared, and Paul was
alone on the dark, rolling sea. From his position on the deck before
going overboard, he could distinctly see the gleam of the Cape Clear
light; but on the sea far below he could not find it. He knew
the direction of the wind, that was then south west and guided his
course accordingly. On every mighty swell that lifted him high up, he
looked eagerly in the direction of the light and soon discovered it
ahead. Perfectly content and without a fear of danger he kept
paddling along occasionally cheering himself with a few snatches of a
sea song as he drove his paddle strongly in the water and propelled
himself toward the light which he observed more frequently when raised
high up on the swells. The wind was steadily increasing and soon burst
into terrible gusts. The long lazy roll of the sea changed and sharp,
snapping waves continually broke over him. These grew larger and more
powerful every moment. About two hours after he left the Queen the
gale was on him in all its fierceness and the light was lost to his
view. The heavy rain that accompanied the gale almost blinded him,
and the seas grew so high that he abandoned paddling and sought only to
keep his head against the overpowering waves that then drove down on
him. An indescribable feeling of loneliness came over him. Once his
paddle was wrenched from his hand by a heavy sea, but he fortunately
recovered it. At times a great wave would completely submerge him. Then
he would shoot to the crest where he would have time to breathe
before he was again hurled down a sloping mass of water that seemed to
him fully a hundred feet to the bottom. During this terrible
ordeal, he has since confessed that he firmly believed that his last
hour had come. He thought of all his transgressions. To use his
own words:
"I recalled every mean trick I had ever committed against God and man in
my reckless life and I did my utmost to remember the best and most
effective prayer that I was taught when a boy."
For hours, that seemed weeks to him, he was driven along before the
mighty seas. About three o'clock in the morning the water became
more agitated and a booming sound struck Paul's ear. Coming to an
upright position, he peered eagerly to leeward thinking he might be
close to Cape Clear. He saw what seemed to him to be a dark mass of
clouds banked up against the morning sky along which ran flashes of
white. He quickly realized that he was nearing the cliffs and the
flashes were the mighty waves that broke in fury against them. Knowing
that to approach them would be certain death, he unlashed his paddle
and made a frantic endeavor to back off through the enormous waves that
were driving him slowly but surely to destruction. Notwithstanding his
almost superhuman efforts he was carried in by an irresistible force
closer and closer to the death dealing cliffs. At the same time he
noticed by the changing head lands that the currents were driving him to
the southward and hoping for an opening in the threatening wall of rock,
he redoubled his efforts to gain more sea room. At times the enormous
waves seemed to lift him almost to the surface of the cliffs, then
again he sank far below while they seemed to raise like a cloud against
the sky. Closer and closer he was driven in until their frightful roar
almost deafened him. A streak of early daylight now showed through the
black cloud of rock that was gradually approaching. He thought that
this might be some cut in the cliffs and reversing his paddle propelled
himself cautiously toward it. While hesitatingly examining the
entrance a sea struck him. Another and another followed in quick
succession and nearly in a senseless state, he was hurled into a
little ravine. To save himself from the retreating wave he grasped a
piece of rock. The next moment he was struck by another sea that
sent him high up, and gaining his feet he rapidly reached a position in
which he was safe from the surging breakers. He discovered that
the cleft into which he was washed was the course of a fresh water creek
which flowed into the sea. After resting himself for a short time on the
rock, he examined his bag and found that it was all right. He then
commenced to ascend the cliffs and on reaching their top the force of
the gale almost blew him off his feet. He struck a signal light. This is
a light made of chemicals which burns with intense brilliancy.
Bracing himself against a rock he held it above his head. The flare lit
up the surrounding cliffs. While it was still burning he turned to
windward and looked down on the huge breakers that made the cliff on
which he stood tremble as they dashed in against it. While gazing
down on the mad water, he realized for the first time the terrible
danger he had passed through in safety and recognized in his escape,
the hand of the Great Pilot above. And as the flare died out and the
beating gale struck him fun in the face, he sank to his knees
and fervently thanked the good God who had so miraculously steered him
to safety.
He had struck the light in the hope of attracting some coast guard's
attention. He was not sure whether he was on the island of Cape Clear
or on the mainland. Receiving no response, he started inland over the
cliffs and found a well worn road. This he followed for some distance
until he came to a place where it branched off, one road leading to the
coast and one leading into the country. He chose the one running to the
coast and soon afterwards entered the street of a village. No light was
visible. The furious gale tore along the street carrying slates from off
the roofs of the low houses. These crashed around him in an
uncomfortable and dangerous manner. Rounding a bend to the village
street he observed a light burning brightly in a window. To this he made
his way hoping to find some one up. In answer to his repeated knockings
a man appeared at the cautiously opened door. At this moment the force
of the wind pushed Paul suddenly forward and carried the door and man
bolding it heavily in. The affrighted expression of the man as he
gazed on the strangely clad figure was ludicrous. While braced against
the door he hesitated whether to close it or to let go and expel the
intruder. Paul turned and helped him close the door against the fierce
gusts of wind pouring in. The man recovered himself and inquired:
"Phere air ye frum?"
"New York," responded Paul.
"Phat air ye doin' here? How did ye come?"
Paul explained to him that he had left a ship that night when off Cape
Clear.
"Phat did ye lave her fur?" questioned the perplexed life-guard for Paul
had noted at once that he was in a life-saving station.
"Well, just to come ashore," said Paul.
"An' d'ye mane to say that ye came ashure in this gale?"
"I do."
"How many came ashure wid ye?"
"No one."
"Phere's ye're ship now?"
"God knows, I don't."
Question after question followed; but Paul was unable to convince the
coast-guard that he had left the ship voluntarily and had landed in
safety. The guard could not understand why any man should leave a vessel
and come in on the coast of Ireland in such a gale unless he was
shipwrecked. He thought Paul's brain had been injured by concussion with
the rocks and a pitying expression came over his face as he said:
"Well, me poor fellow, 'ts no matther where ye're frum. It's me duty to
help ye and yure mates an' if ye'll only tell me phere they air Oi'll
collect the b'ys an' have thim out. Now tell me as calmly as ye can, how
many is drohwned besides yureself?"
Paul saw his mistake and positively assured the guard that he was the
only person to land, and that there had been no wreck and that the
steamer had proceeded on her way to Queenstown. Notwithstanding all his
protestations the coast guard could not realize the situation. The man
before him was, however shipwrecked and in distress, so with the
proverbial hospitality for which the Irish are famous, the guard said:
"Niver moind me lad how ye came ashure. Ye look tired enough. Come in
here an' lay near the fire."
When Paul entered the warm room he removed his uncouth costume. He was
thoroughly worn out buffeting the waves and with his long tramp down the
road, so he gladly accepted the proferred bunk close to the fire and was
soon in a sound sleep from which he was awakened by a kindly voice
saying:
"Here me poor fellow, take this, 't will do ye good."
Before Paul could realize it he had poured a glass of whiskey down his
throat, the strength of which raised every individual hair on his head.
It was then about eight o'clock in the morning and the coast guard house
was full of the villagers, men and women who curiously crowded around
his bunk. They were a wild looking lot. Paul noticed the women
particularly. They looked strong and rosy. They all wore long cloaks
with a hood covering the head, and their feet were naked and as red as a
pigeon's. From the expressions he overheard, he concluded that the
coast-guard man had drawn on his imagination in explaining the
stranger's appearance in the station.
"Did he railly swim from New York?" he heard time and again.
"Oh, thin he's not human if he could do that," and many other
exclamations of like nature greeted the astonished Paul as he drowsily
turned out of the bunk.
The coast-guard man now approached and driving the curious villagers out
of the station, he invited him to breakfast in a little tavern across
the way. The entire village was out. Crowds blocked their way as they
crossed the street. While eating breakfast Paul learned that the most of
the excitement was created by a report that he had swam all the way from
New York. In conversation with the guard, he found out that the
village was called Baltimore, a little coast town about thirty miles
from where he had left the steamer; and also that there was no
telegraph office nearer than Skibbereen, a distance of nine miles. There
was but one conveyance in the village and as the driver was a very
eccentric character, it was doubtful if he could be induced to go out on
such a stormy morning. Paul requested that this man be sent for. Soon
afterward he appeared pushing his way through the villagers. He was a
strange looking man. The coast guard introduced him:
"Here is Andy," said he.
The latter acknowledged the introduction, by pulling his head forward
with a lock of hair and exclaiming, as he eyed Paul curiously:
"Did ye railly swim from New Yark'"
Paul laughed, saying: "I hear you have a horse and I am anxious to get
over to Skibbereen and send off a telegram. I would like to have you
take me over there."
"It's no harse Oi have," he solemnly responded, "but Oi've wan av the
finest mares in the south av Ireland an Oi'll drive ye over for six
shillin'. But did ye railly swim from New Yark? Shure it's not natural."
Paul urged him to get his animal as quickly as possible and the driver
rushed through the door only to be surrounded by a group of wild looking
villagers, who questioned him both in Irish and English. Soon after Andy
re-appeared coming down the village street driving a sorry looking
nag. As he approached the tavern and saw Paul and the guard at the door,
he shouted loudly to the crowd to separate, as though wishing to show
Paul the blood in his favorite mare. He punched her with a little stick
from which the sharp point of a nail protruded and by a dexterous
movement dodged the flying hind feet that were aimed at his head.
"Phat de ye think o' that, sur? There's blood fur ye." A murmur of
admiration stirred the crowd.
"But where is your cart? Hurry up and get her hitched," urged Paul.
Soon after Andy drove up to the door of the coast guard station with his
jaunting car. The mare was hitched to the car with a curious
combination of harness composed of twisted hay, rope, cords and leather.
As nearly every one knows, a jaunting car is a two-wheeled affair.
Over each wheel runs a seat, fore and aft, and in the centre is a little
receptacle for small baggage, called the well. A car generally carries
four passengers, two on each side. On such occasions, the driver sits on
a little seat over the well, looking to the front, while the
passengers' backs are turned toward each other. Having only one
passenger, Andy decided to sit on the opposite side of the car to
ballast her evenly. After Paul bid good-bye to the coast guard and
thanked him for his hospitality, he placed his rubber suit on the
forward part of the seat and sprung up behind. Andy seemed in no
hurry to get under way. A multitude of knots in the harness required
attention and he carefully scrutinized every part of the car while
the villagers kept up a volley of comments such as: "Shure it's a quare
customer ye have this mornin', Andy my b'y. The Lord betune ye an'
harrum, Andy avick. Shure it's no human bein' ye're drivin' away wid."
And many other remarks made in Irish, no doubt, of the same
encouraging character.
"Come, come," exclaimed Paul impatiently, "let us get off?"
Andy reluctantly clambered on the opposite seat and commenced driving
slowly up the village street, followed by a loud huzza. He seemed ill at
ease and was loth to leave, driving so slowly that Paul had to urge him
on. Reaching the last house on the straggling village street, he
stopped the car and turning to Paul said: "Oi want to get a light fur my
pipe, sur."
After a little time, during which Paul heard a vehement conversation
going on inside, Andy re-appeared holding a coal of fire on the bowl
of his clay pipe. He remounted again and slowly drove away followed by
the shrill blessings and good wishes of the barefooted woman that stood
at the door. Their way now lay along the cliff-road and squall after
squall came bearing in from a roaring sea outside. At times Andy would
reach across when the booming of the breakers could be heard coming up
through ravine on the cliffs and say:
"Shure no human bein' could live in that sea, sur. Did ye come on top of
the wather er under?"
"Oh, drive on, drive on," was the impatient response, "never mind."
Seeing one more than usually severe squall coming down on them from the
sea, Paul, who was facing windward, thought he would be more
comfortable if he would slip the rubber tunic over his head and
shoulders. This he did without attracting the attention of Andy and he
leaned forward pointing the comical shaped head-piece to the rapidly
advancing squall. The head-piece not being inflated, the aperture for
the face hung down like a great mouth. The car suddenly gypped and Paul
felt his side sink a little. Turning around find the cause and pulling
the head-piece from over his eyes, he saw the affrighted Andy about
twelve yards away in a ditch. His eyes filled with terror, seemed to
protrude from his head while he rapidly made the sign of the cross over
his face and breast.
"What's the matter? What are you doing there?" thundered Paul. "Come on,
get up, get up. What's the matter with you?"
"Och, shure, it's well Oi knew that it was no christian Oi had wid me
this mornin'."
"Come on now, or I'll drive on without you," angrily exclaimed Paul,
"don't you see that this is only a rubber dress that I put on to
protect me from the rain."
After considerable persuasion, Andy was induced to remount and they
continued through the heavy rain in silence. Soon after Paul asked:
"Andy, how far is it yet to Skibbereen?"
"About fure miles, ye're honor, and Oi wish it was only fure feet," In,
added in an audible undertone.
Shortly after the houses on the outskirts of Skibbereen began to appear
and Andy brightened up wonderfully and became quite communicative. He
informed Paul that a friend of his had a hotel there and that it was a
good one and that he would drive straight to it.
"Con Sullivan kapes the foinest hotel that mon er beast iver shtoped
at," he concluded.
There were few on the streets as they drove up to the hotel. Paul
dismounted and taking his suit into the hotel, asked for a private room.
He then inquired of the landlord where the telegraph office was and
started for it. He wrote a telegram, one to the captain of the Queen and
one to the English office of the "New York Herald," Fleet Street,
London. The lady operator scanned over the dispatch to London, then
closely scrutinized Paul. Seeing her hesitation about accepting the
telegram, Paul demanded to know what was the cause of it. "Excuse me,
sir," said she, "but we have to be very careful about the nature of the
telegrams we send out from here. I must first call the superintendent,
before I can accept this."
When that individual appeared he looked it over and asked Paul if the
contents were all true and correct.
"They assuredly are," impatiently exclaimed Paul, "I want you to get it
off as quickly as you can," and he followed this up by several remarks
not over complimentary to their methods of doing business.
Paul then returned to the hotel where he found Andy surrounded by a
crowd to whom he was relating his adventures and giving a history of
his eccentric passenger in his own way. When they saw Paul he was an
object of the wildest curiosity. The crowd poured into the hotel after
him and invaded the dining room, so he had to remonstrate with the
landlord who unceremoniously shouldered-them out. The news of Paul's
arrival on the coast seemed to have spread with the rapidity of a
prairie fire all over Skibbereen, and people commenced gathering from
all parts of the town around the hotel. One of the gentlemen who
insisted on coming in was the superintendent of the telegraph, Mr.
Jolly. He apologized for his seeming discourtesy at the office and
assured Paul that the dispatch he had written seemed so improbable that
he could not in justice blame them for not receiving it. He proved
to be a very friendly, sociable gentleman and gave Paul all the
assistance and information he desired. He informed him that he would
have to leave Skibbereen by stage which would depart in a couple of
hours. This stage would convey him to the first railway station, some
ten or twelve miles away where he could get a train in the afternoon for
Cork. He urgently requested him to remain over for a few days and
enjoy the hospitality of Skibbereen. Paul, being anxious to reach Cork,
declined. He requested the landlord to send Andy in to settle up. As
the hero was ushered in, it was easy to observe that the people had been
filling him as well as pumping him.
"Here are your six shillings, I believe that is what you asked me."
"That's roight, sur," said Andy as he reached his hand, "that's fur
meself, but how about me mare?"
"What have I got to do with your mare?"
"Shure, sur, ye don't want the poor baste to starve to death."
"Certainly not, she is yours and you ought to feed her."
"But, sur, Oi niver had a traveller yet as didn't pay fur the mare's
eatin' an' drinkin' as well as moine."
Paul was amused at this new rule, but was informed by Mr. Jolly that
such was the custom in that part of Ireland.
"Well, Andy," said he, "how much do you think it will take to keep your
mare from starving until you get back to Baltimore? Here's your two
shillings more."
Andy accepted the two shillings with evident satisfaction on behalf of
the mare.
"That's the eight shillin' ye gave me fur the mare an' meself, an' Oi
think yure honor ought to give me two more in consequince av the fright
ye gave me. Shure it'll be a long day befure Oi git over it! Whin Oi
turned an' saw that ingia rubber thing over ye Oi thought it was the
very divil himself."
Paul laughed and handed him over the other two shillings, with: "Now,
that's all you get."
"Well, good luck an' may the--" here his flow of blessings were cut off
by Mr. Jolly who threw him out of the room.
When the stage coach drove up to the door almost the entire population
of Skibbereen was out. Lusty cheers were given for Paul as he mounted
the outside of the coach, in answer to which he fastened the American
flag to his paddle and waved it to the cheering populace as he drove out
of town. On reaching Dunmanway, Paul entered the train and started for
Cork.