After spending a few weeks with his family, Captain Boyton received an
invitation to visit a friend in St. Louis. While there the swift current
of the Mississippi, which was then flowing with ice, tempted him and he
made a voyage from Alton to St. Louis, about twenty-five miles. A boat
containing newspaper reporters was to accompany him down; but the
weather proved too cold for them and they abandoned him after a few
miles. The thermometer was below zero, and a man was frozen to death
that morning in a wagon at Alton. His reception in St. Louis was
something extraordinary. The deafening noise made by the steamers and
tug boats as they passed the bridge was heard far beyond the city
limits. Before he left St. Louis he gave a lecture for the benefit of
St. Luke's Hospital, and on that occasion was presented with a massive
silver service. General Sherman made the presentation speech.
From St. Louis he went to New Orleans where he decided to feel the
waters in the stronger currents of the lower river. He concluded to take
a run of a hundred miles and gave himself twenty-four hours in which to
make the voyage. Several members of the press intended to accompany him
on the trip and a row boat was procured for their accommodation. This
boat was placed on board the steamer Bismarck that was bound to St.
Louis. It was arranged with the Captain to drop them off at Bayou Goula
exactly a hundred miles above. As the steamer, to get ahead of an
opposition boat, started an hour before the advertised time, all the
newspaper reporters except one, were left behind. At six o'clock the
next morning, Paul and the reporter were landed on the levee at a
miserable looking little Louisiana village. They breakfasted at the
solitary hotel; after which they made enquiries in regard to a pilot.
All agreed that a colored man named Gabriel was the best. They sauntered
forth on the levee to hunt up Gabriel. They were followed by a large
crowd of negroes, young and old who had heard about the wonderful man-
fish. Paul was informed that Gabriel was out in the river catching
driftwood, and the entire colored population appeared to join in yelling
for "Gabe" to come ashore. Gabriel, who was a tall, sad looking negro,
was called on one side by Paul who explained that they desired his
services for twenty-four hours, he stated that there was plenty of
provision aboard for him and that he would send him back from New
Orleans by steamer, so that his trip would not cost him a cent. Gabriel
received the communication in stolid silence. He then retired to a log
where he seated himself in the centre of a number of his darkey friends.
After a consultation, he returned and announced that the figure would be
twenty-five dollars.
"Why, what do you mean, you black rascal!" exclaimed Paul, "it will
really be only one day's work. How much do you make a day
gathering driftwood?"
"Two an' foah bits a day sah."
"And you want twenty-five out of me for one day's work? I will give you
three dollars."
"All right, boss, all right, sah," responded Gabriel without a moment's
hesitation.
Soon after, Paul and the newspaper man were approached by a darkey, who
introduced himself as Mr. Brown. He said:
"I heah dat yo' hab engage Gabe fur pilot ye' down to New Yorleans. Dat
niggah don' know nofing 'bout de riber, sah, no sah, me do dough, an,
me'll go down fur nothin' sah."
"Are you sure you understand the channel down the river?" asked Paul.
"Deed I do, sah, I knows mos' oh the cat-fish tween heah an' dere."
"Consider yourself engaged, providing you can get the boat away from
Gabriel."
"Dats all right sah, lebe dat to me," Mr. Brown answered. A liberal
supply of hay for the comfort of the reporter was placed in the row
boat.
As the hour approached for them to depart, the levee was thronged with
darkies of all sizes and ages, who gazed in open mouthed astonishment,
when they saw the dark form in rubber appear and step into the
Mississippi. By a clever ruse Mr. Brown got charge of the boat and
shoved her off, much to the discomfiture of Gabriel. He returned
Gabriel's maledictions with bows and smiles. They shot rapidly away on
the yellow flood and were soon far below Bayou Goula. As night came
on, Paul requested Brown to light his lantern and get ahead. Brown lit
the lantern, but insisted on keeping behind instead of taking the
lead. To all Paul's remonstrances he would reply: "Yo' doin' all right,
Capen, jus' go right 'long, right 'long, sah."
Paul soon discovered that the negro knew far less about the river than
he knew himself and so he threatened that if Mr. Brown did not keep up,
he would be tempted to dump him overboard, where he could renew his
acquaintance with his old friends the cat fish.
All night they glided between the dark forests on either side of the
river. Paul frequently amused himself by startling a camp of
negro fishermen. They spear fish by the light of a fire they build close
to the bank. All he had to do in order to break up a camp was to float
down quietly until the glare of the fire played on him, then stand up in
the water and utter a few howls to attract the darkey's attention.
One sight of so hideous a figure in the rubber dress was enough. Their
fishing was adjourned for that night.
About three in the morning, Paul found himself far ahead of the press
boat and made the forest ring with the echo of his bugle to wake Mr.
Brown up. Two or three times he had to wait for the boat. At last he
decided that there was no use in dallying or he would never get to
New Orleans in twenty-four hours; so he shot ahead and let the boat take
care of itself. Before daylight in the morning he heard the roar of
a great crevasse that had been formed near Bonnet Carre. The river bank
there had been washed away for about four or five hundred yards and a
great volume of water was being swept into the forests and swamps below.
Without much difficulty he passed this dangerous break and at daylight
his bugle called the early risers in the village to the river bank. Here
without leaving the water, he got a cup of hot coffee and while he was
drinking it, those on the bank informed him that there was a white boat
just coming around the bend in the distance, so he concluded to wait
for it. Soon after, Mr. Brown, pulling lazily along, arrived. Paul rated
him soundly for his tardiness. The reporter was sound asleep, doubled
up in a pile of hay at the bottom of the boat. At five o'clock that
evening, exactly twenty-four hours after they started, they tied up at
the levee in New Orleans where they were received by about ten thousand
people, who covered the levee and crowded the deck of the steamers.
While resting in New Orleans after his run, Paul was waited on by a
party of gentlemen, who announced themselves as a committee appointed
to call on him and see if they could induce him to give an exhibition
in......, an interesting little town up the river.
"Have you got any water that can be enclosed?" Paul inquired.
They said they had a beautiful little lake right back of the town that
could be properly fenced, so that no one could look on without paying.
They promised that Captain Boyton should have the entire receipts, and
that they would make it a gala day providing he would come up, and
assured him of the warmest kind of reception. "We'll have music too,"
added one of the committee men.
Being so assured, Paul promised to be on hand. The committee started for
home where they commenced to rouse the country. One morning Paul,
accompanied by Mr. Brown stepped off a steamboat at .........., and was
received by the committee who were waiting for him and who immediately
escorted him to the hotel where he was cordially invited to "limber up."
After breakfast, the voyager was escorted to the lake and saw to his
annoyance that there was no fence or enclosure around it. He
remonstrated with the committee and said that they could never get a
fence around it in time. The answer was, "Never mind, Captain, never
mind. We'll guarantee that no one stands around that lake without
paying."
All the morning crowds kept pouring into town. By noon, the main street
was filled with wagons, ox-teams and mules with vehicles of every kind,
shape and color, all carrying crowds of whites and negroes. Paul dined
with the Mayor, at the hotel and after dinner commenced to dress in his
suit. The Mayor informed him that there would be a parade to start from
the hotel door and that he would be escorted to the lake by the guard
and the band. When the hour arrived, Paul was led from the hotel by his
honor and was mounted on a cart to which two white mules were hitched
in tandem. The Mayor mounted with him. Behind this cart, drawn up in
military array were fifty men armed with shot guns. In front of the
cart rode the Grand Marshall of the occasion followed the band which
consisted of a solitary hand-organ. Order for advance being given, the
parade started for the lake. When they reached the water-side, Paul was
requested to step into the little tent which had been erected for him
and to be seated until the fence was made. The Grand Marshal then
ordered all the people to fall back, while he stationed the guards with
loaded shot guns at intervals around the entire lake. Then riding his
horse wildly up to the crowd he informed them that "this line of guards
was the fence and that any person coming within one hundred yards of the
line would be shot."
"This," pointing to two of the committee men, who stood with shot guns
near an old soap box in which a slit was cut to receive the money, "is
the entrance gate. Niggers twenty-five cents, whites fifty cents. Now
get right in or get off this prairie."
The whole exhibition was unexpectedly successful. There was not a dead-
head around the lake. Paul took for his share two hundred and thirty
dollars, beside spending one of the pleasantest days he remembers. This
town is now a smart city and Paul withholds the name because the
citizens may not relish this reminiscence.
Soon after, Paul went to Louisville, Ky., where he made a run over the
Falls of the Ohio. This feat caused the most intense excitement in
Louisville and vicinity. He then went to Europe and commenced his
exhibition season at Amsterdam, Holland, in May, for by this time he was
well launched in the show business. He exhibited with much success all
through Holland and Germany. August 3d, 1876, he found himself in the
town of Linz, Austria. Here he met with an accident from which he almost
lost his right eye, by the premature explosion of a torpedo. He was an
invalid in the hotel on the banks of the Danube for two weeks. The
constant sight of the inviting water of the Danube started the desire in
his heart for another voyage, and it did not take him long to make up
his mind to take a run to Buda Pesth, about four hundred and fifty
miles below. When he announced his intention to take this voyage, it
was quickly telegraphed all over the country bordering on the river.
Almost the whole city of Linz turned out to bid him goodbye as he
stepped into the Danube. The current was very swift; but the river was
greatly cut up by islands and bars. He could see nothing blue about
the Danube. That river was almost as yellow as the Mississippi. Like all
rivers it has its bug-bear. The Struden is the terror of the Upper
Danube. It consists of a sharp and dangerous rapid, picturesquely
surrounded by high wood covered hills. Great crowds were gathered
here to see Paul make his plunge. He passed under two or three heavy
waves that completely submerged him. As he was hurried away on the wild
current, he held his paddle high up in acknowledgment to the cheers.
His reception in Vienna was most enthusiastic. From Presburg he was
accompanied for about two miles by the swimming club and he was made
an honorary member by a vote taken while he was paddling in the river
surrounded by his swimming friends. He was then left alone and all that
day he traveled through a barren and desolate country. He occasionally
ran across parties of gold dust hunters who were at work on the sand
bars. They were a wild looking lot of people and all wore white shirts
and baggy trousers. His appearance as he skimmed along on the current
never failed to produce the utmost consternation among the groups who
had possibly never heard of him. It was a very warm day and the sun
burned his face cruelly. In the evening the mosquitoes hovered around
him in clouds and made his life miserable. That night he was drowsy and
fatigued in consequence of his hard work all day. About eleven o'clock,
in spite of himself, he went to sleep, though well aware of the danger
he ran from the mills. The Danubian mill consists of two great barges
fastened together by beams and decked over with a large wheel between
them. They are anchored in the swiftest part of the current which
drives the machinery. He was awakened from his nap by hearing a
tremendous crashing noise and found himself just passing in between
two barges and in a second or two would be under the rapidly revolving
wheel. The current hurled him against it. Before he could recover one
of the planks struck him over the eyebrows and the next struck him on
the back of the head driving him completely under. His paddle was
smashed in two and one half of it gone, while he could feel the warm
blood running down his forehead. With the broken piece of the paddle he
managed to gain the eddy back of one of the barges. The miller was
awakened by his cries for assistance and the stalwart Hungarian
appeared on the deck with a lantern and threw a rope to the almost
fainting man. Paul grasped this firmly and was hauled up till the light
of the lantern revealed his blood covered face and glinting rubber head
piece. The miller uttered a cry of terror, let go the rope and ran
into the mill where he securely fastened himself, thinking no doubt that
some evil sprit of the Danube had appeared to him. When the terrified
miller loosened his hold on the rope, Paul now almost entirely exhausted
dropped back into the current and floated away in a semi-conscious
condition. With his half paddle he succeeded in keeping clear of the
mills and drifted till day light. His eyes were almost closed by
the swelling of his forehead. Soon after he discovered a castle high up
on the banks on one side of the river, the inhabitants of which he
stirred up by a blast on his bugle as he was drifting helplessly. A boat
shot away from shore and picked him up. The boat contained an Austrian
officer and two soldiers. The officer informed him that the castle to
which he was being conveyed, was the fortress Komorn. His wounds were
quickly dressed by the surgeon and in two days he was sufficiently
recovered to resume his trip.
From Komorn he ran all day and the following night to make up for lost
time. About daylight next day great mountains towered up each side of
the river that was there narrow and rapid. About eight o'clock he
arrived at a little village and was informed that it was Nagy, about
forty miles above Buda Pesth. Here he got some refreshments and started
on his last run. A few miles below he saw a very high mountain,
surmounted by a cross, up which ran a zig-zag road. At each bend of this
road was erected a grotto containing some scene from the Passion of Our
Lord. This Way of the Cross is a celebrated place of devotion to the
pious people of Buda Pesth. As he passed the mountain he saluted a party
of ladies and gentlemen standing on the shore. One of the gentlemen
hailed him in German with the request to slack up a little and they
would come off in a boat. Paul complied with their request and stood
upright in the water and drifted quietly along. The boat was soon beside
him: it contained two ladies, evidently mother and daughter, and two
gentlemen. The daughter, about eighteen years of age, was, in Paul's
estimation, the most lovely girl he had ever seen. He gazed with a
look of admiration on her wondrous beauty and paid but little
attention to the shower of questions that were put to him in
Hungarian-German by the male members of the party. In his best German,
he asked her what he already knew, that was, "how far it was to Buda
Pesth?"
She smiled and answered in French, "about thirty-five miles. I presume
you can speak French better than German?"
This was just what Paul wanted. She now acted as interpreter for the
whole party and her sweet voice drove away all feeling of fatigue. As
the current was driving the party rapidly down, the mother suggested
that it was time that they should say good-bye. Before going, one of
the gentlemen asked through the young lady, "if M. le Capitaine would
take a glass of wine?"
Paul responded, "that it was pretty early in the morning for a toast,
but if he was permitted to drink to the health of Hungary's fairest
daughter, he would sacrifice himself."
With a musical laugh she handed him a glass filled with sparkling Tokay.
A general hand shake all around followed and as Paul's rubber-covered,
wet hand grasped that of the young lady, he begged her to present him
with the bunch of violets she had pinned to her breast, as a memento of
the pleasant moments he spent in her company. She complied with his
request, he gallantly kissed them and pushed them through the
rubber opening of the face piece, down into his breast.
As he resumed paddling, the thought occurred to him, that the frank
cordiality of the male occupants of the boat had undergone a
decided change, and their farewell was a little more formal than their
introduction; but he paid little attention to that and struck away
for Buda Pesth with a strong steady pull, while he hummed:
"Her bright smile haunts me still."
The news of his approach had been telegraphed to Buda Pesth. When he
arrived at the Hungarian capital both banks and the bridges were
black with people and the cry of, "eljen Boyton, eljen America," re-
echoed on every side. The warmth of his reception in Buda Pesth was
simply indescribable. In narrating the story of his voyage down the
Danube, he mentioned the fair vision he had encountered at Visegrad.
This was duly published with his other adventures. From Buda Pesth he
returned by railroad to Vienna, where he had an engagement to give an
exhibition for the Boat Club. This contract being filled and free to go
anywhere he wished, he followed his fancy and took the first train for
Buda Pesth again. Here he gave many successful exhibitions; one of
largest was for the benefit of a girl's home at was a favorite charity
in Buda Pesth. At the close of the exhibition he was bewildered by the
shower of flowers and bouquets thrown on him in the water. Next day
he received a letter addressed, as follows: Sir Captain Paul Boyton a
Buda Pesth, Hotel Europa.
The contents of the letter were:
Sir!--Accept our hearty thanks for your generous complaisance, having
succored foreign interest in a foreign land. We assure you, that your
name and the remembrance of your noble action never leave the hearts of
these young girls, whom we can help through your beneficence to
instruct them useful professions. Let me render you our thanks, we do
never forget your gentlemanlike conduct.
I remain very much obliged, your esteemer ELMA HENTALLERF, Secretary;
MRS. ANNA KUHNEL, President of the Union of Ladies. Buda Pesth, 1876,
Sept. 18.
During all this time Paul kept his eyes wide open in the hope of again
meeting the beautiful young lady, who had made such an impression on his
heart. One day a Hungarian officer met him on the street and said
"Captain wouldn't you like to be presented to the young lady you met on
the river at Visegrad?"
"Would a duck swim?"
The officer told him to be ready that evening and he would take him
around to their private box in the National Theatre. Paul was ready
a couple of hours before the appointed time. They entered the box and
the object of Paul's dreams arose and advancing with a charming smile,
said in English:
"I'm so delighted to see you, Captain."
"Not any more than I am to see you. Why didn't you speak English to me
on the river?"
"Well," she exclaimed, "I was a little confused and did not remember
that Americans spoke English, but let me present you to my mother and
the gentlemen."
Paul was then introduced to an Austrian officer and a count who with her
mother were occupants of the box. Little attention was paid to the
play going on by Paul, who kept up a running conversation in English
mixed with French, with the charming girl at his side, but wily
diplomat that he was, he got in an occasional remark to her mother in
German. At the close of the performance, Paul offered his arm to the
young lady, while the Austrian officer took the mother in tow. The
other gentlemen in the party took the lead at the door. They walked
leisurely home through the narrow streets and the officer who was
escorting the mother clinked the scabbard of his long sword in a savage
manner on the cobble stones. Before they parted at the door of her home,
Paul had asked for and obtained permission to call the next day. He
then turned away accompanied by the officer and walked in the
direction of his hotel. The officer asked him how long he intended to
remain in Buda Pesth. Paul did not give him very much satisfaction as
he was running free at the time and had no course mapped out. On
arriving at the hotel, the Captain invited the officer to take some
refreshments. While seated at the table, the latter introduced the
subject of dueling and asked Paul questions in regard to the code in
America. Paul easily seeing the drift of his thoughts, entertained him
with accounts of hair-raising combats with bowie knives, revolvers,
shot guns and cannons, assuring him they were of frequent occurrence in
the part of the States where he came from. He told the officer that he
did not know one of his friends who would not rather participate in a
duel than be invited to a banquet. When the warrior parted from
Paul he was stuffed fell of harrowing yarns, all of which he seemed to
believe, at least his demeanor was much more gentle than when he had
entered the hotel. Paul remained in Buda Pesth two weeks longer than he
expected, during which time he was a frequent visitor at the home of
the fair Irene, where he was always welcomed by herself and parents.
Then followed a trip through the principal cities of Hungary.
He then went to Italy where on the 4th of November, 1876, he started on
a long voyage down the Po from Turin to the Adriatic, a distance of
about six hundred and seventy miles. He was determined to make this trip
in one continuous run, intending it as a feat to test his endurance.
Paul's knowledge of Italian was very limited and his knowledge of the
river he was about to embark on, less. All the inhabitants of Turin
seemed to have turned out to see him start. To carry his provisions,
map, etc., he had a little tin boat made about two feet, six inches
long and eight inches wide. This little craft bore the name, "Irene
D'Ungeria," Irene, belle of Hungary, and was the model from which his
well known "Baby Mine" was the evolution. The weather was cold and the
water intensely so. Its source was the Alps, then in plain view and
covered with snow.
He started on a Saturday morning at nine o'clock. The current was
exceedingly strong, rushing over gravel beds on which he frequently
grounded. The country in the vicinity was very beautiful with high
ground on each side. At every little village and hamlet, he was
received with enthusiastic "vivas" and many were the kind invitations
he was tendered to stop and take refreshments. All these he declined as
he had ample provisions in his little boat for a four day's run. This
boat he had attached to his belt by a line about three yards long. She
behaved very well; but when he reached very violent rapids he was
compelled to pick her up and place her on his legs before him. About
nightfall a lady and gentleman came off in a small boat and requested
him to stop for the night assuring him that the danger in the river
below was very great. It contained many mills under which he might be
carried; but his mind was made up and he went steadily along on his
perilous voyage. The night was very cold and the struggling moon
occasionally lit up the valley. He struck many times heavily on the
rocks and frequently entered false channels. About three o'clock
Sunday morning, he heard a loud roaring noise and supposed it to be some
freight train passing over the bridge at Casale, a village below, which
he considered was then near. About the same time a thick, white fog
peculiar to the Po, settled over the river. Through this he picked his
way cautiously and as the current swept in around the bend of the river,
the noise he heard before seemed to be no great distance away. The
speed of the current seemed to increase and in a few minutes afterwards,
he was shot over a dam and hurled in the tumbling water below.
Before he could extricate himself, the little boat had been upset and
was about sinking when he grabbed her. The current soon drove him far
below the dam, where he landed on a bar and emptied his tender of water.
He knew her contents were ruined; but it was too dark to examine, so
he kept on his voyage until sunrise, when he landed and found that all
his provisions were converted into a kind of pudding, dotted with
cigars instead of fruit. The small flask of Cognac and a bottle of oil
were the only things uninjured. A pull at the Cognac flask served
him for breakfast and he paddled away on his voyage with vigorous
stroke. The sun rose that morning in a deep red color and as the rays
illumined the snow clad Alps, that looked so near him, the valley of the
Po and the remnants of the fog were bathed in a soft red light, so
that even the very water seemed turned to blood. A sight more beautiful
and peculiar than this, Paul never witnessed since or before. The river
now seemed to shoot from the hills into the low land. On either side was
a heavy growth of willows.
He saw no one until about nine that morning, when sweeping around a bend
he came on a boat containing two men with a swivel gun, after ducks.
Both men were greatly excited and one of them turned the swivel in his
direction. Paul shouted vigorously at him not to fire, and fortunately
he did not. He ran along side and held a conversation in the best
Italian he could muster. They informed him that he was nearing the
village of Frassinetto and offered him provisions. He accepted a piece
of bread which he ate and again started on his journey. A couple of
hours afterward he came to a flying bridge, an institution peculiar to
many European rivers. It consists of a long line of small boats strung
together on a heavy cable, anchored in the centre of the river. The
boats supported the cable. The last boat on the line is the ferry or
bridge. This is much larger than any of the others and has a steering
oar. When cast away from one shore, the ferry is steered diagonally
against the current to the opposite side while the line of boats
supporting the cable swing with it. Paul often found these bridges
exceedingly dangerous, particularly at night time. Then the ferry is
always tied and the line of small boats lead from the centre to the side
for about a hundred yards below. The bridge men at Frassinetto were
notified of Paul's approach by his bugle and never having heard of him
before, rowed out in a skiff and were very indignant when they found
that he would not be rescued. All day Sunday he drove ahead on the rapid
current. By consulting his maps, which he fortunately saved and dried
on the deck of the Irene, he found that he could not make the run in
four days as he had expected when he started. Sunday evening he
obtained some provisions from a miller and though feeling very sleepy
and much fatigued, he kept driving along all night. The roar of the
waters as they dashed against the mills, put him on the alert. Monday
morning he was faint and fast becoming exhausted; but was encouraged by
the hope of soon reaching Piacenza. There he expected to meet his agent,
get a little rest and a full supply of much needed provisions.
The agent in question, was a Scotchman, he had met in Milan, before
going to Turin. His occupation was that of a tenor singer; but he failed
to make a success of it, he was open for anything that turned up.
Finding that he was a good Italian scholar, Paul engaged him. He was not
exactly Paul's idea of what an agent ought to be, as he showed too much
fondness for the good things of this life. When seated with a dish of
cutlets and truffles flanked by a generous sized bottle of wine, he was
apt to make statements that were rather unreliable. Before leaving
Milan for Turin, Paul told him, as the Po was to him an unknown river,
he could not tell at what time he could make on it, so that he must
use his judgment from the reports he would get from above, in regard to
the progress he was making down the river. He then instructed him to
go to Piacenza on Saturday as he expected to be able to reach that
point on Sunday evening. Paul afterwards learned that instead of
waiting until Saturday; his courier, full of self importance, started
for that city the same day Paul left on his way to Turin. On
arriving there he introduced himself to the Sindaco and newspaper men,
by whom he was feted and ample opportunity was given him to indulge
in his favorite dishes. On his own responsibility, he informed the
journalists that Captain Boyton would be sure to arrive on Sunday
evening, and at that time almost every man, woman and child in Piacenza
was on the banks of the river two miles away from the town. Finding that
the Captain did not appear at the time he announced and that the
crowd was getting angry, the agent slipped away and got back just in
time to catch a train for Ferrara much farther down the river. Most
of the crowd waited on the banks until dark, then returned and commenced
to hunt for the agent; not finding him, they satisfied themselves by
burning his effigy in the public square.
Monday broke on Paul, chilly and uncomfortable. Once in a while a faint
gleam of sunshine would light up the river and he took advantage of any
long reach before him, free from mills, to take a nap. He woke from one
of these naps by hearing a cry on the banks and saw a fisherman gazing
intently at the floating object. He half opened his eyes, but never made
a move, curious to see what effect his presence would make on the
peasant. At this time the current was setting him into the shore. The
fisherman ran down along the bank to a point and there stood, pole in
hand, waiting to capture what he no doubt thought was a dead body. As he
was thrusting the pole out, Paul quickly assumed an upright position in
the water and saluted him with the words:
"Buon giorno."
The pole dropped from his hand and with one frightened shriek he rushed
up the bank and disappeared. About one o'clock the bridge at Piacenza
came in sight but instead of being full of people, as he expected, Paul
saw only a few working men and some soldiers. No sight of the agent was
visible, so he decided to run through and stop at Cremona about thirty
miles below. He saluted the workmen and soldiers as he was carried under
the bridge with frightful velocity. At this time his strength was almost
gone and he was heart sore that he should fail in his self-imposed
task; but felt that he was able to continue on as far as Cremona, about
twenty-five miles below. The day grew more dreary and it seemed to him
as if it would soon commence to snow. He continued working slowly and
stubbornly along, when he was arrested by a cry behind him. Coming
upright and wheeling around, he saw a young officer standing in a boat
pulled by about twenty pontoneers. As he shot alongside, the officer
stretched forth his hand to shake Paul's and said in French:
"You must come on board and go back to Piacenza. The public are greatly
disappointed. Your agent said that you would be here yesterday and a
great reception was prepared for you."
Paul thanked him but firmly declined to return. The officer then asked
him if he desired anything and Paul informed him that he was badly in
need of provisions and some oil for his lamp. He had missed the little
light on the head of the Irene during the long, lonely nights on the
river.
"There is a village a couple of miles below," said the officer, "and if
you will slack up a little, I will run ahead and have all you need by
the time you come opposite."
The pontoneer's boat shot away and Paul followed quietly after them.
When he arrived off the village, the boat again pulled out into the
stream with not only the supplies desired, but a most excellent
meal, consisting of boiled eggs and other nutritious edibles, along with
a bottle of fine old Barolo, the sparkling red wine of that country.
While eating the food, Paul, with the boat alongside, drifted slowly
with the current and during that time, he ascertained that the young
officer, who had manifested so much interest in him, was the son of
General Pescetta, Minister of Marine. Shortly before being overtaken by
the friendly Italian, Boyton was beginning to feel terribly fatigued and
had serious thoughts of throwing up the trip; but under the influence of
the hearty meal and the invigorating wine, his courage was renewed and
he felt he could easily complete the journey. All that day he passed
through lonely and miserable looking country. Swampy lands and rice
fields bordered either side of the river. About five o'clock he saw two
men on the bank and called out to them, asking how far it was to
Cremona:
"Motto, Signor; motto," was the answer which means, "very much, very
much." It is the usual reply of all Italian peasants when asked
regarding distance.
Paul was so refreshed that he did not mind the discouraging answer. He
was on buoyant spirits and to it seemed to him as though he could dash
along forever without tiring, his strength was so great. He felt there
would be no difficulty in completing his undertaking in time. This
unusual animation and feeling of wondrous power, he could only attribute
to the effects of the food and wine. Pulling gaily along, he suddenly
felt a tremendous pressure in his head, and apparently without the
slightest cause, blood spurted from his mouth and nostrils. It occurred
to him that he had burst a blood vessel.
Brilliant lights seemed to be burning in front, behind and all around
him, with the intensity of electric search lights. A village appeared on
the bank and he concluded to stop. Pulling in shore, he was bewildered
to find only the mud bank. This discovery startled him into a
realization that something was wrong with his brain. The mind was
wavering between the hallucinations of a fever, and lucidity.
Vagaries occasioned by a high temperature, would suddenly vanish as the
struggling mind briefly asserted itself. As he resumed paddling, some
swaying willows became three ladies attired in the Grecian bend costume,
then a fad in America, smiling and bowing to him. His mind told him they
were only willows; but his eyes would not be convinced.
Darkness fell about him. He had no idea of where he was going, and the
lights burst on him again with increased brilliancy. No matter where his
eyes turned, the intense rays would shine into them. He thought he had
arrived at Cremona, and that some men were turning the reflector to
annoy him. "Keep those lights off," he shouted, "don't you see they are
blinding me?"
Reason came for an instant and told him there was no town and no lights.
He knew he must call for help, but several minutes elapsed before he
could remember the proper Italian word. Then he cried:
"Soccorso, soccorso!"
But only the echo responded from the lonely shore.
He again reached the bank, formed by a dyke which protects the lowlands
from the floods. He climbed to the top, carrying the little tender in
his arms. Then he could hear the tack, tack, tack, of some one pounding,
and through an open door he saw a shoemaker hammering away at the sole
of a boot on his knee. Attempting to enter, he staggered against a tree.
The shoemaker appeared in another direction and the sound of the
hammer was continually with him. Almost overcome with fatigue he decided
to sit down, and then his paddle assumed the character of a companion,
remonstrating with him and advising him to move on.
"I think I'll sit down here," Boyton would say.
"Indeed you won't," answered the paddle.
"But I must."
"If you do you will die. Come on."
Endeavoring to obey the commands of the paddle he continued to stagger
on, falling at every few steps; but regaining his feet and pressing
forward. Intense thirst consumed him and he went often to the brink of
the river and drank quantities of water, burying his face in the muddy
stream; the paddle all the while urging him to move on. Along the top of
the dyke he came upon three posts placed for the purpose of keeping
cattle from getting off the road. These posts became sneering, laughing
men, wearing cloaks flung across their breasts, Italian fashion. They
were insolent, and he challenged them to fight; but they only ridiculed
him.
"You are the fellows that have been bothering me all night," he shouted,
and dropping on one knee, he took a sheath knife from the tender and
plunged it into the breast of one of the men. In a flash of reason he
saw the knife quivering in a post.
Again the fevered voyager started, the paddle all the while telling him
that he would soon strike some town or village. Two or three times the
overwhelming desire for water compelled him to return to the river and
drink. Every time he descended or climbed the dyke he grew weaker and
finally decided to lie down at all hazards and sleep. The paddle
earnestly remonstrated:
"It is death. Death if you lie down. Keep on," it said.
Fatigue obtained the mastery and he sank on the ground determined to
sleep. Scarcely had he stretched his limbs on the muddy dyke, than he
was partially aroused by the "dong, dong, dong," of a great bell
clanging on the still night air. He counted twelve strokes.
"Ah, that is another illusion," he thought; but it brought him to a
sitting posture, just as a bell of different tone sounded "ding,
ding, ding," and again he counted twelve strokes.
The second sound convinced him that he was near a village, and heeding
the commands of the paddle, he struggled to his feet and entered a road
which he followed, passing under an old arch that spanned the highway,
but he was afraid to touch it, thinking that it too, would disappear.
Shortly the cobble stones of a street were felt through the rubber soles
of his dress. He saw houses on each side, but kept on under the
impression that if he approached them they would vanish, and he also
conceived the idea that he must tread lightly or he would scare them
away. As he advanced through the village street, arguing with the paddle
that no real village was in sight, a light shining through a transom
over the door of some outbuilding, attracted his attention, and he
thought he might be in the vicinity of human beings. Hearing the sound
of voices he approached the door, listening. Then another mad thought
came to him, that he must make a desperate rush at the door and get
inside before it melted away. He did so, and the frail barrier gave way
before the pressure of his shoulder and he stumbled headlong into the
place. He disturbed several men who were drinking and playing at some
game and as he regained his feet he observed two of the men trying
to escape through a window, while the others seized chairs and benches
to repel an attack of what they imagined to be the Evil one.
"Molto malado!" cried Boyton.
At hearing this, the men gained confidence and put down their weapons.
"Medico? Albergo?" inquired the voyager.
One of the most intelligent of the party, said: "Ah, he wants a doctor
and a hotel. He is sick," and they went out with him into the street
which was then lighted by the moon. The men advanced in a group while
Paul brought up the rear and in this way they proceeded until the hotel
was reached, when some of the party began to throw pebbles against the
upper window to awaken the landlord. While they were doing that and
shouting, Paul counted them and found they numbered twelve. He concluded
they were the twelve apostles.
"Pedro, Pedro, come down," shouted one of the apostles, "a Frenchman
wants to get in."
Pedro at last appeared at the door with a light in his hand; but on
seeing his strange visitor in the black dress covered with mud,
he exclaimed: "No room, no room."
Boyton said "vino," a touch of reason coming to his aid.
"Yes," replied the landlord, "you can have wine."
He opened the door and the entire crowd entered a large room with an
earthen floor and ranged around were several common board tables
polished to a snowy whiteness, while on shelves were bright colored
vessels and measures. On ordering the wine, Paul noticed the landlord
eyeing him suspiciously, so he took from the little boat which he still
carried, a book, among the leaves of which was some Italian paper money.
Throwing a ten lire note ($2.00), to the landlord, he ordered wine for
the full amount, and the twelve apostles were soon enjoying it. Boyton
sat down and mechanically took the measure every time it was handed to
him and drank. He tried to listen to the conversation of his strange
comrades, but found himself dozing. The uproar made by the twelve, who
had seldom experienced such a windfall, awakened the landlord's wife who
entered the room and began to question the roysterers in a very emphatic
manner. Going to Boyton, she lifted the rubber from his forehead and
turning angrily to men, exclaimed:
"Can't you understand? This man has febbre del fuoco."
Taking the measure of wine away from Paul, she ordered her husband to
build a fire and began to take off the rubber dress, in which she was
assisted by some of the men. When the tunic was off, steam arose from
the voyager's body as from a boiler, and when the pantaloons were
removed, the good hostess unceremoniously ordered the twelve apostles
into the street. She procured a chicken which was soon broiling, and
brewing some kind of tea, she compelled Paul to eat and drink, after
which he was escorted to a room and snugly covered up in a big,
canopied bed. He was no sooner stretched on the mattress than he was
sound asleep, not waking until the sun shone through the window next
day. He then heard the murmur of voices in the street. Jumping up, his
feet struck a cold tiled floor which sent a chill over him. Peering
through the curtain, he discovered a crowd of people looking up at his
room and a buzz of voices was heard all about the house. Not remembering
where he was, he pulled a bell cord and the summons was answered by the
landlady, who greeted him kindly and hoped he felt better. She also
informed him that two gentlemen were below who wished to see him.
"Let no one up but a doctor," answered Paul; but in a few moments three
men were ushered in. Boyton was unreasonably suspicious and testily
told the men that he only wanted a doctor. One of the gentlemen
explained in French that he was the mayor of Meletti; that one
of his companions was a doctor and they had come to take care of and
entertain him. Such gracious answers to rough and suspicious questions,
disarmed Paul and they were soon on friendly terms. The mayor informed
him that a carriage was at the door to convey him to his own house,
where better care could be had. It was explained that the patient had
nothing to wear except his underclothing, and the mayor immediately
procured him a suit of clothes and escorted him through a gaping crowd
to the carriage, nor would he permit Paul to settle the hotel bill.
After an hour's drive the voyager was comfortably installed in a
mansion, under the ministrations of a distinguished physician. No one
could have been better treated. He afterward learned that his host,
beside his official position, was a large landed proprietor, owning most
of the village, and was a member of the great family of Gattoni de
Meletti.
Reports that the man in the rubber dress had been attacked by the fever,
spread all over Italy, and great numbers of people came from
surrounding towns to see him and inquire as to his condition. The fire
fever with which Paul was attacked (febbre del fuoco), is peculiar to
the districts along the lowlands of the Po, and he had been eighty-three
consecutive hours in the water when it overcame him.
For more than a week the doctor was in close attendance and then Boyton
was sufficiently restored to health to go about. He was treated with
the utmost consideration. The mayor took pains to show him everything of
interest. Among his other possessions, the hospitable Italian owned
great droves of cows. The cows of that vicinity are known all over the
world, the famous Parmesean cheese being made there. The mayor's herd
wintered in long sheds and were so near of one size that looking along
the stalls over their backs they seemed as even and as level as a floor.
The stalls and everything about the sheds were as clean and as sweet
smelling as could be.
The notoriety given to the town of Meletti by the presence of Boyton
created much jealousy in the breasts of the people of Castlenuovo
Bocco d'Adda, the town in which he first appeared. They became impressed
with the idea that their village had been cheated out of considerable
fame by reason of the action of the mayor of Meletti in taking him away;
so in order to even things up they formed a Boyton club and promoted a
big banquet in his honor. This was followed by a more stupendous
entertainment given by the people of Meletti, and thus there was great
rivalry between the villages to honor the distinguished guest. At the
Meletti banquet people were present from Cremona, and Boyton gave an
exhibition in the lake for the benefit of the poor.
When thoroughly restored to health, Paul continued his voyage and was
tendered an ovation all the way. On the fourth day he ended the journey
at Ferrara. When he landed he found that the enterprising agent before
alluded to, had pursued the same tactics there that had distinguished
him at Piacenza. He had told the people that Boyton would surely be down
on a certain day, while at the time he was ill at Meletti. On the day
set by the agent for his arrival, great crowds gathered on the bridge
and along the banks. A log floating down on the current was hailed by
the agent as the voyager, much to the disgust of the people who strained
their eyes until darkness sent every one home. The agent having
reached the limit of his credit in Ferrara, as he had at the town up the
river, secretly disappeared to the shades of Milan, where it is supposed
that he resumed his operatic career.