Paul now commenced plans for his channel trip. He visited Boulogne, Calais, Folkestone and Dover and decided on taking a course from Folkestone to Boulogne. M. L'Onguety, the President of the Boulogne Humane Society, offered to give him the best French pilot on the channel and his lugger to steer him across. The steamer Rambler was also engaged to accommodate the press representatives and invited guests. The most intense interest prevailed not only in Europe, but in America. Letters and telegrams came pouring in on Paul to reserve space for the special correspondents of the most noted newspapers in the world. Mr. McGarahan, the brilliant and lamented correspondent of the New York Herald, who was one of the party on the Rambler, wrote the following account of this memorable trip.
"The start was to be made at 3 o'clock on the morning of April 10th, 1875, from Dover, that hour being set on account of the tide favoring. In order to be up in time, the newspaper correspondents and friends who were to accompany the intrepid voyager on the tug, did not go to bed at all, the hours intervening being spent in the parlors of the Lord Werden hotel. The morning was cold and raw and when the sound of a bugle apprised the crowd that the time for starting had arrived, there was a hustling for warm wraps. At the quay from which the start was to be made, a great number of people had gathered regardless of the unseasonable hour and the chill air. There was a most horrible din and confusion, caused by the shouting and rush of the people, the whiz of rockets, the puffing of steamboats and the hoarse sound of speaking trumpets, all amid the glare of Bengal lights and burning pitch. The firing of the tug's gun announced the start. A black figure, like a huge porpoise, could be seen in the cold, grey water and then disappear in the darkness. Those on the tug thought they would lose him; but at length his horn was heard far out on the water and the tug immediately headed in that direction in order to take the lead and show him the way. Pursuing slowly forward he was kept within hail, as the lights of Dover gradually grew dim in the distance and the lighthouse on the Goodwin Sands shone clear and bright like the star of morning."
"The pilot was one sent over from Boulogne by the French Societe Humaine, said to be the best on the French coast. The course agreed upon was as follows: Take the tide running northeast from Dover at three in the morning, which would carry them seven or eight miles in that direction somewhere off Goodwin Sands. Here the tide turns about six 'clock and runs southeast down the channel. They would follow this tide to a point considerably below Boulogne, where the current sweeps again to the east and flows into Boulogne harbor, which they hoped to reach about three in the afternoon, making a distance of sixty miles."
"At five o'clock in the morning, when daylight came, everything was going well and the exact course indicated by the pilot had been followed, except that the start been about twenty minutes late. Boyton now paddled alongside and called for his sail, which he adjusted to his foot by means of an iron socket without getting out of the water, lit a cigar and struck out again. The little sail instantly filled and commenced pulling him along in fine style, making a very appreciable difference in his rate of speed. At six o'clock they were off Goodwin Sands, a little short of the point that it had been planned to reach. The tide now commenced turning and they were soon running down the channel under a very favorable breeze; but a nasty sea and thickening weather. Nearly in the middle of the channel, there is a sand bank called the Ridge or, by the French, the Colbart, which splits the current in two, throwing one along the French coast and the other along the English. It was, of course, the intention of Boyton and the pilot to get into the French current; but either because the swimmer did not get far enough to the east, with the tide running out or what seems more probable, because the pilot, owing to the thick weather, which hid both the French and English coast, missed his reckoning, they were swept down the English side of the Ridge and all chance of reaching the French coast before night was lost. Paul resolutely attacked this ridge, hoping to get over it and reach the French current in time. It proved to be a terrible struggle. The sea here was foaming and tumbling about in a fearful way for the voyager. It was not a regular roll or swell, but short, quick, chopping waves, tumbling about in all directions, that whirled him round and round, rolled him over and over, rendered his puny sail utterly useless and blinded him with foam and spray. It was a strangely fascinating spectacle to watch him in his hand to hand struggle with the ocean. The waves seemed to become living things animated by a terrible hatred for the strange being battling with them. Sometimes they seemed to withdraw for a moment, as if by concert and then rush down on him from all sides, roaring like wild beasts. For two hours the struggle continued, during which time he did not make more than a mile; but at last he came off victorious and reached the current running along the French coast, where the sea, although nasty, was not so unfavorable. But it was now one o'clock and instead of being several miles south of Boulogne, as he had hoped, he was almost opposite and the current had already turned again to the north, thus carrying him far past the place. He determined, however, to push on and endeavor to land at Cape Grisnez, about ten miles north of Boulogne. He did not seem tired although he had eaten scarcely anything since taking to the water. The weather grew rainy, foggy, cold and miserable. Boyton worked steadily forward; but the pilot began to grow anxious. It was evident that he would not make the French coast before dark, and he expressed his determination to push on all night if necessary. The wind and sea were both rising, promising a bad night. It would be impossible to follow him in the darkness and fog. He would inevitably be lost and if he should miss Cape Grisnez, he would be carried up into the North Sea. At length, towards six o'clock, the pilot declared that he would not be responsible for the safety of the ship, so near the coast in the darkness and fog. The Captain was, of course, unwilling to risk his ship, and it was decided that the attempt would have to be given up. Paul and his brother, who was on the tug, both protested against this resolution in the most energetic manner. The former maintained his ability to finish his undertaking, declaring that he was not in the least fatigued, and to prove it swam rapidly around the ship. It was agreed that he had thoroughly demonstrated his ability to cross the channel and that it would be folly to risk the ship, the life of everybody on board, as well as himself by cruising along the coast all night in the fog and darkness. He at last agreed to go aboard and give it up maintaining, however, his ability to stay in the water all night. It was just half past six o'clock when he set foot on the deck of the tug, after having been a little more than fifteen hours in the water."
Paul felt keenly the disappointment at the failure of his first attempt to cross the channel, notwithstanding the telegrams of congratulation from the Queen, Prince of Wales and many high personages on both sides of the Atlantic. He firmly resolved to attempt it again. He was young then, only twenty-seven years of age and did not know what fatigue or fear was. When he returned to London, he received many offers to exhibit himself in his dress. He at last closed with a well known Manager for the sum of fifty guineas per day, about $250. At this time he did little more than paddle around in the water, fire off a few rockets and his exhibition would not last more than, perhaps half an hour. He has often laughed heartily since, to think of the miserable apologies for a exhibition that he then gave, when compared with the magnificent show that himself and company of water experts give at the present day. Notwithstanding his lack of knowledge of the show business, he always succeeded in pleasing the public, who gathered in enormous crowds wherever he was announced. His managers reaped a rich harvest through his work. Their share for three days' exhibition in Birmingham alone, amounted to over six hundred pounds, $3000.
Invitations showered in on him from every quarter for dinners, banquets, receptions and society gatherings of every description. Hundreds of these he was compelled to decline, on account of press of business. Notwithstanding all this flattering attention and flood of prosperity, he never lost his head or changed in either action or speech. He looked upon it as a matter of course and felt just the same as he did when diving with Captain Balbo, or bush-whacking under Colonel Sawyer. Towards the end of May he had his arrangements completed for his second attempt to cross the channel. This time he determined to reverse the course. Instead of starting from England, he decided to leave from Cape Grisnez, France, and land on any part of the English coast he could. A couple of days before the attempt, he went to Boulogne. It was arranged that he should leave at three o'clock in the morning, when the steamer containing the English correspondents would arrive.
John Laty, a well known London newspaper man wrote the following account of his second attempt:
"As we draw near Cape Grisnez light, aboard the Earnest, Capt. Edward Dane, preparations are made by Mr. M. Boyton for proceeding ashore to assist in his brother's departure. A boat is lowered from the davits. It is soon manned, your artist slipping down the rope with the agility of a sailor. He is the last straw. The boat is pulled off. The Earnest steams slowly on, for three o'clock is close at hand and that is the hour fixed for Captain Boyton's start from the Cran aux Anguilles, El Chine, about two hundred yards to the east of the Grisnez light.
"Three A.M.—A rocket rushes up from the boat sent ashore. It is the signal of Captain Boyton's departure. It is answered by a display of fire-works from the Earnest. A gun is fired and Grisnez light flickers and goes out. Day is breaking; but Captain Boyton is not discernable yet. Over the gray waters one sees through a good glass, the white fringe of surf breaking on the sandy beach, which is lined by a black mass of people behind whom is burning a large bonfire. A speck is at length made out to the right of the boat, 'three points off,' as the white haired old salt on board remarks. The sky gets lighter, the sea deep blue. We can now plainly see the dauntless Captain paddling actively away toward us, riding buoyantly over the swelling waves, and making good progress in his gray suit of india-rubber. His brother comes on board soon, with the news that the boat can not venture through the surf that foams up the beach. The stout little craft now receives a compass which is placed in the stern, where the mate takes his place to act as pilot. Off the boat puts once more, to act thence forth as Captain Boyton's guide.
"Four A.M.—We give the Captain a ringing cheer as he paddles alongside the Earnest. He answers that there are some people on shore who want to come aboard and that his sail too has been left behind. His message delivered, he paddles away again. In a few minutes he shouts out that if a boat is not sent off for those on shore he will turn back himself.