Soon after Paul left the Queen, the gale that almost cost him his life,
broke down on that gallant vessel. The captain put her nose in it and
headed her off for sea. All night she ploughed against it while the huge
seas burst over her and whitened her smoke stacks with salt to the
very top. Not a soul on board believed that Paul would last in the gale
half an hour after she broke out, and the captain blamed himself keenly
for letting him go. The steamer did not succeed is reaching Queenstown
harbor until noon next day. When the lighter came along side for the
mails a man passed a telegram up to the captain. He feverishly tore it
open and found with great relief that it was from Paul.
"Thank God that he is safe," he exclaimed, and he then read it aloud to
the passengers.
Cheer after cheer went up as the news was spread along the decks. Having
discharged her mail and passengers for Ireland, the Queen resumed her
way to Liverpool, while the lighter steamed into Queenstown. Evidences
of the ravages of the storm were visible on all sides. Dismantled ships,
unroofed houses and vessels ashore told the story of its force in that
vicinity. It was afterwards ascertained that fifty-six vessels were lost
in the same storm on the southern coast of Great Britain that night.
When the lighter reached Queenstown, the passengers were full of
excitement in regard to Paul's wonderful feat and they spread the story
broadcast both in Queenstown and Cork. To their disgust, they found
that the people disbelieved them and laughed at them saving:
"This is a fine Yankee yarn you are springing on us now."
To convince the skeptical people of Cork, a party of them telegraphed
all over the coast to see if they could not find Paul, to verify their
story and from Skibbereen they learned that a man answering that
description had passed through there and was now on his way to Cork.
When Paul arrived at the station he found himself surrounded by many of
his late fellow passengers, who enthusiastically received him and
escorted him to the hotel. The news of his remarkable adventure spread
over Cork as rapidly as it had over Skibbereen, so that the hotel was
thronged with eager people, the newspaper fraternity being well
represented. It was late that night before he got through with his
persistent interviewers and before he woke next morning, the story of
his extraordinary adventure and daring was all over America. The
Cork papers contained columns, describing his struggle with the ocean.
Before he could dress himself, cards came showering into his room and
when he went down he found the hotel packed with people eager to see
him. For a few days Paul enjoyed the extravagantly warm hospitality of
Cork. He was taken everywhere worth visiting, entertained with
dinners, parties and receptions until his head swam with the whirl of
attentions that he was so unaccustomed to. During his stay in the hotel
a large party of huntsmen who came to Cork to participate in a grand
hunt nearby, had a banquet to which he was invited. Paul was made the
hero of the evening and so many were the toasts drank in his honor that
he looked anxiously for a chance to escape the profuse but reckless
hospitality. When an opportunity presented itself he slipped out and
took a long walk in the night air. As he returned to the hotel and
was about to ascend to his room, he could hear his late companions in
one of their hunting songs enjoying themselves. Observing a stalwart
porter connected with the hotel, laboriously bearing one of his late
red-coated entertainers on his back as he mounted the stairs, Paul,
thinking some accident had occurred ran to the porter and asked: "Why,
what is the matter with the gentleman? Is he killed? Has there been
a fight?"
"Oh, no sur, it's wan of the gintlemen, he's only a little overcome. Oi
put thim all to bed this way, yure honor, and moight ave had the
pleasure av puttin' yureself to bed if ye had remained."
With sailor-like recklessness, Boyton never thought of how all this
would end and he spent what money he had freely. One morning before
rising from his bed, he began thinking the situation over. As he
examined it closely and counted what money he had left, the outlook took
on a most gloomy hue. He was confident that he did not have coin
enough to pay half his hotel bill alone, not to think of getting home.
After studying the matter over for some time he came to the conclusion
that the only course he could pursue was frankly to confess to the
landlord how he was situated and offer to leave his rubber suit until
he could return home and send for it. Then he would go to Queenstown and
see if he could not procure a position on some vessel bound for
America. Just as he came to this conclusion he was interrupted by a
knock at the door.
"Ten to one it's the landlord with my bill," thought Paul.
When he opened the door he was confronted by an energetic, little man
who talked with great rapidity.
"Captain Paul Boyton, I believe, sir. Here is my card, I thought I would
bring it up myself to save time. I have a great scheme for you. Go on,
proceed with your dressing and I will talk about it. I am the manager of
the Opera Company now playing at Munster Hall and I have a scheme by
which you and I will make a considerable amount of money. I presume you
are not averse to making money?" looking inquiringly at Paul.
"Well, no," responded Paul. "It's very useful at times."
"Well, sir, I have a great scheme. A great scheme, indeed."
"What is it?"
"You know all Cork is wild to see you, and my idea is that you shall
give a little lecture. We can fill Munster Hall from pit to dome."
Paul looked at the man curiously for a few moments and made up his mind
that he was crazy.
"Why, my dear sir, I am not a lecturer. I could not lecture. I never
even made a speech in my life."
"That's nothing, that's nothing," responded the nervous and energetic
little manager, "So much the better. I will do the lecturing for you.
All you will have to do will be to stand there and exhibit your dress."
"Well, under those circumstances," responded Paul, who still considered
the manager a little off, and seeing a probable means of paying his
hotel bill, "What terms will you give me if I consent?"
"One half the house and I will do the advertising."
"And the lecturing too, remember," said Paul.
"Yes, yes, that's all right, we'll sign the contract immediately."
"But hold on," said Paul, "there is another question I want to ask you.
How much do you suppose my share will be?"
"Between thirty and forty pounds. I am almost certain."
"Are you positive it will be twenty-five pounds?"
"Absolutely positive, confident my dear fellow."
"Then," said Paul "I will sign this contract on condition that you will
pay me five pounds in advance."
Paul thought this stroke of policy would end the interview and rid him
of his visitor. To his intense surprise, the five pound note was laid on
the table without any hesitation. It was quickly transferred to Paul's
pocket.
"Now make out your contract and we will sign it."
"Have done so, have done so; did it last night when I thought of the
scheme. Have it all made out. Sign here."
Paul carelessly glanced over the contract an affixed his signature;
after which the manager shook him warmly by the hand and congratulated
him on having entered on such a brilliant enterprise, and said "I will
now go and attend to the printing. We will dine together," he added as
he disappeared through the door.
"And remember you do the lecturing," Paul called after him as he rushed
down stairs.
When he left, Paul locked the door, drew out the five pound note which
he carefully examined to convince himself that it was genuine. He then
in his great joy took two or three handsprings and made such a noise
that the chambermaid rapped on his door and desired to know if
the gentleman was knocking for anything. During the day, the manager
visited Paul frequently and gave him encouragement. By evening the
report of the intended lecture had circulated pretty well and Paul was
frequently stopped on the street by acquaintances who assured him
of their pleasure at having a chance to hear him speak. Paul took pains
to tell all who questioned him in regard to it that it was not he but
Mr. Murphy who was going to give the lecture. Next day Cork was covered
with great bills announcing the lecture for the following evening and a
feeling of nervousness overcame Paul as he beheld his name in such
enormous letters. This nervous feeling was in no way allayed when he
perused one of the bills and found that the enterprising manager, had
not only promised that he would give a description of his landing on the
Irish coast but that he would relate many thrilling adventures he had
passed through in the American, French and Mexican wars; would describe
time methods of life-saving in America, and compare it with the
British method of life-saving service, and many other things that Paul
did not dare to read, as he had sufficient. He sought out the plausible
Mr. Murphy and vehemently went for him for deceiving the public.
"Never mind, my boy, never mind, the people all understand how it is.
You will have nothing to do except to make a few remarks."
But Paul was not satisfied. He tried to commit to memory the few remarks
he supposed he would have to make when he was introduced; but he would
no sooner get them in ship shape than they would disappear again. The
night of the, to him, terrible ordeal arrived. Manager Murphy took him
to the Hall in a carriage. Great crowds surrounded the building and the
manager assured him that it was already full inside. The arrangements
were that Paul was to appear between the acts of the opera, which that
night was "Madame Angot." Murphy took Paul to his own private office in
the second story and encouraged him in every way he could. Paul listened
to the music of the first act, as it rolled by with fearful
swiftness. Never before in his life did he experience the feeling of
nervousness which now seemed to possess him. Once during Murphy's
absence from the office he raised the window and looked down into the
river Lee that ran alongside the building and wondered if he could drop
into the water without breaking his leg. All that deterred him was the
thought of the five pounds that had been advanced. The fated moment
arrived; the manager said:
"Your suit and paddle and appliances are out on a table on the stage.
The curtain is down and the moment it rises you walk boldly out to the
side of the table and I will follow you. Don't be afraid, the audience
is most kindly disposed toward you and will give you a warm welcome."
Up went the curtain, Murphy's hand was laid on Paul's shoulder as he
said:
"Now, my boy, step right out."
Paul braced himself and with his heart as near his mouth as he ever had
it before during his existence, walked over to the table on which lay
his suit, paddle, etc., etc.
The deafening roar of applause that greeted him set him more at his
ease. He looked around for Mr. Murphy, but failed to see that
worthy gentleman. So making a few steps towards the foot-lights he
thanked the audience, in a trembling voice, for their kindness. He told
them that he was no speaker and that Mr. Murphy had promised to do the
lecturing part of the business. At this moment cries broke out all over
the house:
"Brace up, Captain, never mind Murphy, its yourself we want to hear,"
and many other similar good-natured remarks.
This encouragement had the effect of steadying Paul's nerves and he
calmly proceeded to give a vivid account of the terrible adventure he
had passed through a few days before. He grew more confident as he
proceeded and the frequent outbursts of applause gave him ample time to
collect his thoughts and express himself with ease. His mind flew to
what he had read on the bill and he traveled over the ground in a very
thorough manner. When he concluded and bowed his thanks, the applause
was as warm and loud as any ever heard in the Hall.
When he reached the wings he was embraced by the enthusiastic Murphy,
who was vehement in his congratulations and easily smoothed Paul's
feelings against him. To his intense surprise, Paul found that he had
been speaking over one hour and he could not persuade his acquaintances
but that he was an old hand at the business. Next morning Paul read his
speech in the papers and it caused him as much surprise as it did
Manager Murphy when he read it. His portion of the proceeds amounted to
thirty-two pounds. When manager Murphy paid him over the balance after
deducting the advanced five pounds, he felt more like a gentleman
traveling in Europe for his health. On the same day he received
three telegrams from Dublin all offering engagements to lecture; also an
offer from the Cork Steamship Company to appear in Queenstown harbor in
his suit where they would run excursions. The Dublin offers he left in
the hands of Manager Murphy while he accepted the offer of the
Steamboat Company. A couple of days after he appeared in Queenstown
harbor and every steamer in Cork was loaded on that occasion. From this
appearance he realized a little over ten pounds. In the meantime the
story of his remarkable adventure on the Irish coast had been
commented on by the English press and so many doubts cast on it, that
prominent English papers sent their correspondents to Cork to
investigate the matter thoroughly. These gentlemen questioned Paul
closely and got his whole story. Then they went to Baltimore and got the
testimony of the coast-guard. They thoroughly examined the coast and
under the guidance of the coast-guard discovered the exact place be made
his miraculous landing.
They learned that the place he came ashore was the only available
landing for miles, the coast being formed by precipitous rocks and that
if he had drifted one mile to the southward lie would have been cut to
atoms on the sharp and dangerous reef known as the "Whale Rocks."
Thoroughly satisfied with their investigation they returned to London
and confirmed the story in every particular.
Paul next went to Dublin where he had a week's engagement to lecture in
the Queen's Theatre. His reception was if possible more enthusiastic
than in Cork. He cut his lecture out of one of the newspapers and
studied it, so on that point he felt more easy. He appeared every night
at the theatre, which was filled to its utmost capacity. At the
conclusion of his lecture, he would bow his acknowledgements to the
audience and retire behind the curtain, where a tableau was arranged.
It represented the scene of his landing, and he standing with uplifted
paddle on which was tacked the American flag. A supe threw a bucket of
water over him, previous to his mounting the imitation cliffs, the
curtain would roll up and behold the hero as he just emerged from the
sea in his glistening rubber suit. The applause was tremendous. The last
night, every one being paid off and feeling good, Paul stepped behind
the curtains in his suit to receive his customary ducking. The bucket of
water was missing. The stage hand who was very mellow exclaimed:
"I had it here a moment ago but I can't find it now. Ah, here it is,"
and he drew a pail from under a table and deluged Paul. Up went the
curtain, the audience screamed, Paul looked down on his armor in dismay,
instead of water he was covered with white calsomine, when a voice
from the gallery roared:
"That's the first rale white-washed Yankee I've ever seen."
A white washed Yankee is an Irishman who has spent about two years in
America and returning to his own country apes the accent and
eccentricity of the down east Yankee.
Before leaving Dublin, Paul gave an exhibition in the lake in the
Zoological Garden, Phenix Park and so intense was the desire to see him
in the water that the sum of seventy pounds was received from
admissions. He also made a run down the Liffy through the heart of the
city, during which time it is estimated that over a hundred thousand
people turned out to see him.
On November 9th Paul made a swim from Howth Head to the historic Island
of Dalkey, a distance of about ten miles. The following day he was
presented with an illumined address signed by many of the most prominent
people in Dublin, also with an elaborately worked American flag and
gold medal. The address concluded with the following words: "The
subscribers desire that Captain Boyton will regard this presentation
as a reminiscence of his visit to Ireland and as a token of the high
estimation in which they hold him as a fearless experimentalist in
bringing under public notice the most valuable life saving apparatus
that has yet appeared."
Paul made many good friends during his stay in Dublin and visited almost
every point of interest in that historic city. He discovered a very
original character in the car-driver who conveyed him to the theatre
every evening. Whenever he had a leisure hour always spent it
driving around he quaint old city with the driver, Pat Mullen, who
entertains him with his stories and witicisms. While driving along the,
Liffy one day Pat said:
"Would ye loike a little devarsion, Captain? If ye do, Oi'll take ye
through Pill Lane; but ye must look out fur yure head, sur."
Pill Lane he described as a street mostly inhabited by fish-women who
displayed their stock in trade on a tray on the head of a barrel, These
ladies, like their sisters in Billingsgate, London, bad a great
reputation for their vigorous use of the English language and the
choice epithets that they often hurled at the heads of passers by who
did not purchase from them. Pat explained that his method was to drive
down the Lane at a good gait and by picking out two or three of the
star performers he would arouse them by a method peculiarly his own.
That consisted in driving quite close to these barrels and so near some
of them that the step projecting from the side of the jaunting car
would send the barrel and fish flying all over the sidewalk. Of coarse
this was presumably quite accidental.
Paul consented to try the experiment, being assured that there was no
danger in it. As they drove into the head of the Lane, he soon
discovered that Pat was well known in that locally. The cries of:
"There's the the dirtily blaguard agin. Look out there, Mrs. Murphy,
etc."
All these salutations were received by the imperturbable Pat with smiles
and bows and a cheery remark, as he dodged a dead fish or some other
missile aimed at his head. When little farther down the Lane, Pat said:
"Look out now, Captain, do ye see the fat woman down there? She's a
beauty an' Oi'n goin' to shtir her up. Ye'll hear a flow av iloquence
such as ye niver heard in yure loife, sur. Oi'm sorry she's on yure side
as the car, sur. Droivin' up, sur, ye wud not be so liable to get hit."
At this moment, by a dexterous twist of the horse's head, the iron step
struck the barrel and scattered the contents, while Pat leaned across
and said:
"Ye'll excuse me, Mrs. Olahan, that was an accident."
"Oh it's ye," exclaimed the lady addressed, as she hurled the cup that
she was drinking tea out of at Pat. Then a torrent of language burst
forth which could be heard far down the Lane as they drove quickly
through; but not fast enough to escape the fusillade of decayed fish
and every other missile, even to the head of a barrel, which could be
hurled by Mrs. Olahan and her sympathizing friends. When they emerged
from the Lane, Pat turned around and said:
"Air ye bruised, Captain?"
"No," said Paul, "but I don't want any more of that kind of diversion."
A long time afterwards, while in London, Paul read of a Dublin driver
who was taking a party of women home one night and either through
accident or design drove them all into the middle of the canal. Their
loud outcries attracted people to the rescue and when they arrived on
the scene, they found the driver seated high up on the seat trying to
control the mad struggles of his steed, while he calmly requested
the rescuers to "niver moind the women but to save the harse."
At the time Paul thought this must certainly be his old friend, Pat
Mullen, and afterwards ascertained that he was correct in his surmise.
When his engagements in Dublin terminated, Paul went to London, where he
found that interest in his exploit on the Irish coast was still
manifested. He then began a series of experiments down the Thames and in
the waters in the vicinity of London. The London papers were teeming
with accounts of him and his adventures. About this time he formed the
resolution to cross the channel from England to France and was busying
himself in preparations. One morning he was surprised to receive an
order from Osborne to appear before the Queen. Paul's friends assured
him that this was a great honor and one which would be of much advantage
to him in England.
The order was for him to appear before Her Majesty on the river Modena,
East Cowes, Isle of Wight. He left London, having made his preparations
Saturday morning and went to Portsmouth, where he was entertained by the
Mayor, American Consul and members of the Yacht Club. The same night
he crossed over to Modena on the Isle of Wight, where he took rooms in
the hotel. Sunday morning he went aboard the royal yacht Alberta, and
introduced himself to the captain, whom he found to be a jolly old sea
dog. From a letter written home by Paul about this date, the following
extract is taken: The yacht I boarded seemed as big as a man-of-war. A
Marine stopped me on the gang plank with the question: 'Whom do you
wish to see?'
'Why the captain of course.'
The sentry called to a petty officer, who escorted me to the captain. He
conducted me to a gorgeously furnished cabin. When I introduced
myself, the weather beaten tar grasped me warmly by the hand. He invited
me to be seated and accept some refreshments. While discussing them,
we also talked over my exhibition before the Queen the next day. I was
anxious to acquit myself in the presence of royalty in a creditable
manner, so I plied the captain with questions to obtain all the
information possible. He told me that to please the Queen anything I did
had to be done quickly. In answer to my question, how will I hail her,
he said: 'In addressing Her Majesty, you must say first, Your Majesty.
After that you can continue the conversation with the word madame.'
Well that won't be very difficult thought I, and I can get through with
it all right. Before leaving the Captain, I requested him to send down a
few men in the morning to help me get traps aboard. Returning to my
hotel I spent most of the afternoon writing. I was interrupted by a
waiter, who informed me that General Ponsonby, Private Secretary to the
Queen, and two ladies desired to see me. I ordered them shown right in.
The General, a fine, dignified old gentleman came in followed by two
very handsome ladies. He introduced himself and the ladies
saying: 'Captain, this is the Hon. Lady Churchill and this is the Hon.
Lady Plunkett. The ladies curiosity was so great to see you that we
came down from the Castle to have a little talk.'
I invited them to sit down and consider themselves at home. The General
then put a number of questions in regard to my former life and Irish
coast adventure. In a brief manner I gave them a story in the best way I
could. It seemed to entertain them considerably as the ladies often
laughed heartily. As they were about to leave the thought occurred to
me, 'these are my guests, I ought to offer some hospitality. So backing
up to the fire-place I took hold of the bellrope saying; 'General and
ladies I hope you will mention what you will take.'
At this both the ladies laughed merrily and the General said: `No,
Captain, thank you. The ladies and myself have already been
entertained handsomely.'
By the twinkle in the ladies' eyes I think they would have accepted my
invitation and taken a drink if it had not been for the austere presence
of the General. During the conversation I confided to them my
trepidation about meeting the Queen, but they assured me that Her
Majesty was a very kind lady and that I need have no fear, whatever,
of any breach of court etiquette. After a warm handshaking, they bade me
good-bye and said they would see me on the morrow.
After their departure I resumed my writing when I was again interrupted
by the re-appearance of the General, who explained to me in behalf of
the ladies that much as they would have liked to accept my hospitality,
I must not feel hurt by their refusal. They were ladies of Honor to Her
Majesty and it would be a terrible scandal if they accepted any
hospitality in the hotel. 'But that won't prevent you and I, Captain,
from drinking the ladies' good health.'
The General and I passed some time together and he gave me many useful
hints. The next morning about twenty able-bodied British tars presented
themselves at the hotel to transfer my effects on board the royal yacht.
By their united efforts they succeeded in getting it aboard; but I
could much more easily have carried the whole outfit myself. When on
board I descended to the Captain's cabin where I donned my suit and
got the appliances in the rubber bag. All this time carriages were
rapidly driving up to the side of the yacht, which was moored at the
dock; depositing their loads of courtiers, who came aboard and
promenaded up and down the decks. I was standing forward with the
Captain at the time and he told me the names of several noted
personages and high officers who were pouring up the gang plank. One
venerable looking man attracted my attention. I said:
'Holy blue, Captain, look at that man coming aboard now without any
pants on.'
'That gentleman,' said the Captain, 'is John Brown, Her Majesty's most
faithful servant and that is the National Scottish costume he wears.'
As I was gazing on John Brown with considerable curiosity, the Captain
said:
'Stand by now. Her majesty is coming. When I tell you, you walk aft, bow
to her and get over the side and do your work.'
The crowd on board obstructed my view so that I could not see the Queen
come aboard. In a moment the Captain returned from the gang-way where
he had been to receive her, and said:
'Walk right aft. Her Majesty is waiting for you.'
I might as well confess to you that my idea of a Queen had been formed
by seeing the play of Hamlet, where the Queen of Denmark comes on the
stage with long white fur robe, covered with pieces of cat's tails and a
crown on her head. I certainly did not think that the Queen of England
would dress in this exact way, but I thought she would have something to
distinguish her from the coterie of ladies that surrounded her on
deck. So I walked aft, paddle in one hand, rubber bag in the other and
dressed in my suit. I came to a group of ladies, a little separate,
around whom bare headed courtiers stood and was about to pay homage to a
fine, grandly dressed maid of honor, when turning around I observed
the face of the Queen which was made familiar by the thousands of
photographs, which grace the windows in nearly every store in London.
She is a stout, motherly woman, more plainly dressed than any one
around her. I looked at her for a second and said:
'Your Majesty, I believe.'
With a kindly smile she answered, 'Yes.'
'Will I take the water, Your Majesty?'
I was confused by the mistake I came near making, in taking the maid of
honor for the Queen.
'If you please,' she responded with the same kindly and encouraging
smile.
It didn't take me long to get over the side of that vessel, you can rest
assured. Remembering the Captain's injunction not to keep her waiting
long, I drove through all the exhibition I could give and as I clambered
aboard again the perspiration stood all over my forehead. On gaining
the deck, I bowed to the Queen again and was about to go forward. The
Queen stopped me and said:
'Captain Boyton, I am both delighted and astonished at your wonderful
work in the water; I believe that dress will be the means of saving
numbers of valuable lives.'
She asked me how old I was and many other questions. A handsome young
lady who stood at her side said:
'Don't you feel very much fatigued after such an exertion and are not
your clothes wet under your dress?'
'Oh, no, Miss, not the least.'
At this answer of mine a laugh went up from the royal group and I
suspected that I had made some mistake. I added. 'To prove to your
Majesty that I am perfectly dry underneath the suit, I am, with your
permission going to take it off. You need not be afraid, I am perfectly
dressed underneath.'
Seeing that she did not object, I quickly unbuckled the tunic and hauled
it over my head cast it on the deck and kicking off my rubber pants, I
stood in my stocking feet before them. The Queen examined the mechanism
of the dress with much interest and said:
'I would like to have a suit made for the use of this yacht, and I wish
you a safe journey across the channel.'
Seeing that the interview was about closed I said:
'Now, Your Majesty, I hope you will excuse any error I have made, for
you see that you could not naturally expect me to be posted in court
etiquette.'
The Queen laughed heartily in which she was joined by the surrounding
crowd and said:
'You did very well, Captain.'
When she left I again joined Captain Welch, of the Yacht, who told me
that Her Majesty was well pleased. 'You may be sure of a handsome
present.'
I then asked him what was the cause of all the laughter. He said:
'Why that was the only mistake you made. You should have addressed
Princess Beatrice as Your Royal Highness; but that is all right.'
Soon after, Paul received an elegant chronometer gold watch with motto
and heavy chain by General Ponsonby from the Queen and with the request
that he would send her his photograph.