"The rocky strip of beach on which the Captain has landed is in Fan Bay, a hundred yards or so west of South Foreland Lights. There from he is speedily rowed to the steamer. Receiving a fresh round of British hurrahs on nimbly embarking, he is warmly shaken by the hand, his comely, bronzed face lighting up with a modest smile, albeit his eyes and skin must be smarting terribly from the continual wash of the salt sea waves for twenty-three hours and a half.
"Captain Boyton is sufficiently recuperated before Folkestone is reached, to receive anew the homage which Englishmen are ever ready to pay to heroic pluck and endurance. Dover honors him with a salute of eleven guns as the Earnest glides by. Folkestone harbor is gained at last. Our adieux paid to Captain Boyton, no one seems loth to land." Paul received congratulatory telegrams from the Queen, the Prince of Wales and President Grant. Dover gave the Captain a dejeuner. Folkestone, or rather the South Eastern directors, entertained him at a banquet on Saturday evening, when he felicitously thanked Captain Dane and others for their generous services during his channel voyage.
After his successful attempt, which caused the wildest excitement over all the world, he rested a few days before resuming work, under his managers. Medals, flags, jewelry, addresses and presents of all kinds poured in on him. The Humane Society at Boulogne voted him their massive gold medal representing the First Order of French Life Saving.
All during the summer, Paul appeared in the different towns and watering places in England, getting his regular pay of fifty guineas a day, equal to $1,750 per week. In September his agent accepted of two week's engagements for exhibitions in Berlin at Lake Weissensee. The business that was done there was simply stupendous, and Paul's treatment by the inhabitants of Berlin will never be forgotten by him. For the first time in his life he fell in love. His inamorata was a blue-eyed young German lady, the sweetest and loveliest girl in Berlin; he carried her colors in many a lonely voyage in after years. But it never amounted to anything more than warm friendship, as his love for his free and adventurous life was much stronger than any chains Cupid could weave.
CHAPTER X.
At the close of his Berlin engagement, Paul determined to make a voyage down the Rhine. With that intention he started for Basle, Switzerland. Several correspondents of French, German and English papers desired to accompany him on his trip. As the river is very rough and swift between Basle and Strassburg, they decided to join him at Strassburg when he arrived there. In October, 1875, he started on his first long river voyage, four hundred miles, to Cologne.
At five o'clock in the morning he stepped into the rapid Rhine, with nothing but his bugle and paddle. His first run was to Strassburg, seventy miles below. News did not travel along the upper Rhine fast in those days and the peasantry did not know of his trip. His unexpected and strange appearance caused no little fright among the people along the banks. At one point he came on three workmen, engaged in mending an embankment. While approaching them on the swift current, he raised himself up in the water and blew a blast on his horn. The workmen looked around and seeing a strange figure standing in the water blowing a trumpet, perhaps thought it was old Father Rhine. They did not wait to investigate; but disappeared up the bank in a hurry. About noon Paul arrived at Breisgann, where he got some refreshments. The course of the river now ran along the Black Forest, and is much narrower there. The scenery is weird and somber and although the region is interesting, it is somewhat monotonous. People of the Black Forest are a dreamy and superstitious race; they would stand and look at the uncouth figure in the water for a moment and then run. One old man who was gathering driftwood was so surprised and frightened that he sprang from his boat and ran up the bank without waiting to secure it. At nightfall Paul was still driving along. He heard a peasant whistling and singing on the bank, he hailed him and inquired in German, how far Strassburg was below. "Eine stunde," (one hour,) was the reply.
He afterwards found out that it was the custom in that part of the country to give distance by time. In half an hour afterwards the lights of the bridge at Kohl showed up. There were two bridges there, one for the railroad and one a low pontoon bridge. While watching the high railroad bridge, as he was rapidly approaching on the current, he struck on one of the pontoons and was whirled under. On coming to the surface, he hauled for the shore and landed. It was then eight o'clock and no one was visible. Knocking on a door a woman opened it. She saw the dark figure all glistening with water and sent forth a series of yells that caused the entire neighborhood to turn out. A German policeman approached, took Paul in charge and conducted him to a hotel near by. He said:
"I recognized you, Captain, and your friends are all in Strassburg and do not expect you till to-morrow. The city is about three miles from the river. I will send immediately for a carriage."
When it arrived, he found that it contained three of his friends, who had been apprized of his landing. They drove to a hotel in Strassburg. The next day was spent in hunting for and purchasing a flat bottom boat for the reporters. The Berlin press was represented by Count Von Sierasowsie, an invalid officer with both legs cut off. He had to be carried around in a perambulator. He had a private soldier, which the German government allowed him, as a servant. The balance of the reporters were from France and England. A boat about forty feet long and eight feet wide was purchased and two men, who professed to know something about the channel of the Rhine, engaged to navigate it. It was nothing more than an open craft; no roof, so the correspondents put in straw and chairs to make themselves comfortable. A place was reserved in the bow for the Count's perambulator. The following day all the baggage was placed aboard. Paul had three trunks which had been forwarded from Berlin. Dr. Willis, the English correspondent, observed that Paul passed a strong line through the handles of his trunks and secured each firmly one to the other. Then he tied a buoy to the end of the line. The doctor inquired why he did so.