"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."