He could not get rid of the fellow that easily, so he concluded to try some other plan. After they had proceeded a short distance Boyton asked the persistent boatman to have a drink, at the same time handing him a bottle of very strong wine that had been given him to use in case he needed a stimulant. The fellow, already half intoxicated, absorbed most of the contents and was soon maudlin. He ran his boat around and across Boyton to the latter's great annoyance. He became drowsy, however, and finally fell into a deep sleep. That was the opportunity Paul desired. He seized the anchor that was in the bow of the fellow's boat and dropped it in the stream. The boat swung around and hung there, and Paul paddled away. When quite a distance down he heard faint cries of "Captain, Captain, where are you?" The boatman thought he was drifting; but Boyton never saw him again.
Below Ancenes Paul was met by Jules Verne, the distinguished novelist, who came up the river on a boat rowed by some of his sailors. He accompanied the voyager all the way to Nantes, where the trip terminated. The two men became great friends, the navigator enjoying the novelist's hospitality on his yacht and also at his residence in Nantes. Monsieur Verne afterward made use of the life-saving dress to illustrate scenes in a novel entitled "The Tribulations of a Chinaman." Nantes was reached eight days from the time of starting. Excursion steamers met them and fired salutes, The Hospitaliers des Sauveteurs Bretons, the leading life-saving society of France, elected Paul an officer of the first rank and gave him diplomas and medals.
CHAPTER XV.
Until January 15th, Paul remained in Nantes, then he went to Madrid. The weather was very cold. It was his intention to make a voyage on some of the Spanish rivers. On looking over the country, he selected the Tagus as being the least known and promising more adventure than any of the others. When it was announced that he was going to attempt that river, several of the-leading residents of Madrid endeavored to dissuade him; he received letters from many prominent people telling him that the river was not navigable, running as it did, through a wild, mountainous country, and full of waterfalls. He concluded to take a look at the stream himself and so form his own opinion. For this purpose he went to Toledo and found there a narrow, turbulent river, rushing over great masses of rock. He hired a mule and rode several miles down its banks and discovered no improvement. In making inquiries of the natives about the character of the river, the invariable answer was, "Mucho malo, Senor; mucho malo." "Very bad, sir; very bad."
Boyton was far from liking the looks of the river; but made up his mind to try it anyhow, especially as everyone told him he could not do it. After deciding on a course, he returned to Madrid and witnessed the fetes attending the marriage of King Alfonso and Queen Mercedes. The young King took great interest in the proposed voyage; he sent word over the country that the American was the guest of all Spain, and requested his people to receive him hospitably. Before leaving Madrid to begin the perilous undertaking, the Minister of the Interior gave Boyton maps of the river and all the information concerning it he possessed, which was surprisingly little: The maps were glaringly incorrect, as was afterward learned. Many towns that the maps located on the river were not near it.
When all was ready Paul's agent and baggage were sent to Lisbon to await the termination of the voyage. Paul returned to Toledo to make final preparations for the trip, which was one never before attempted. In fact, as far as was known, the river had never been navigated from source to mouth. It is three thousand five hundred feet above sea level at Toledo, which accounts for its rapid descent. On his return to the famous old city, Boyton was met by an aid-de-camp of the governor, who tendered the hospitality of that official, which was gratefully accepted for one day. That day was spent in visiting interesting points. The next morning, Thursday, January 31st, 1878, Paul drove to the river through the Gate of the Sun, and found a crowd of people assembled to see him start. In a few moments he was in the water, and the people cheered lustily as he began energetically to ply his paddle. As he turned the bend at the end of the first half mile, he took his last look at the stately Alcazar, away on the Crest of the hills, and at the ruins of the Moorish mills on the riverside below. Onward, and the bright, sunlit vision faded from his view.
"Now that I was started," said Paul, detailing an account of the wondrous journey, "I felt easier and stopped at noon to partake of a light dinner. I knew I was in for a tough job and made up my mind to go through with it. The river ran all over the country and was as changeable in temper as a novelist's heroine. Sometimes it was a mile wide, running slowly, with as calm and smooth a surface as a lake. Again, at the next bend it would dart toward a range of hills, and instead of going around them as its previously erratic course led me to expect, it would plough straight through the solid rocks. Then it would become as narrow as a canal, deep and rapid as a mill race, and in some places hurried along with the speed of an express train. The country was utterly wild, and it was not an unusual thing to paddle from morning until night without seeing a human being. As I knew nothing of the river except that I was bound for Lisbon, it may be imagined that I was not perfectly easy in my mind, I did not know but that the next angle in a canyon might land me in a whirlpool or over a fall.
"A great majority of the peasants do not read and were therefore ignorant of my undertaking. They are somewhat superstitious and my first adventure was with two of them. It was some hours after I left Toledo that I spied these men. They were great, hulking fellows, engaged in rolling a large stump up the steep hill, rising from the bank of the river. Slipping quietly along the surface, I got close behind them without their seeing me. When I hailed them, they gave me one startled look, released their hold on the stump which crashed down to the river, while they ran up and disappeared in the recesses of the hill. They never stopped to look the second time.
"I thought I would reach Peubla the first night; but owing to the extraordinary bends of the river, nightfall found me in a terribly rough portion of the country. I kept dashing from waterfall to waterfall, from rapid to rapid, until two o'clock in the morning, when the barking of a dog caused me to haul in. It was intensely cold and I was very tired. I blew a blast on my bugle and some very rough looking men came down to the bank. They proved to be shepherds and very kindly took me to their hut, which was not far from the water. They had the queerest way of keeping fire I ever saw. It was made of straw, the embers banked in such a way that there appeared to be only a black mass; but when they blew on the mass, a red glow would blush from it, throwing out considerable heat. Over this fire, they cooked a little soup for me. I remained in the hut until morning, stretching out on the floor for a little rest, while they stood about, speaking their mountain patois which I could not understand. I left them early in the morning, passing through wild mountain scenery and seeing no signs of habitation. No railroad or telegraph lines cross the river until near Lisbon and there was no way for me to get word to my friends. I arrived at Peubla at twelve o'clock and owing to the fact that I ran on to an old, broken bridge which cut my dress, I was compelled to haul up. The Alcalde was out in his high, picturesque cart, drawn by a tandem team of mules. I accepted his invitation, and was driven up through the olive groves to his house, followed by crowds of people. That night there was a sort of entertainment given in my honor and having no clothing with me except the heavy suit of underwear; I had to borrow a suit from the Alcalde in order to be presentable. The women of that place were most gracious and the girls as pretty as pictures. The Alcalde's little daughter took an interest in me. She talked to me a great deal, and in fact I could understand her Spanish much better than I could the adults. What a pretty little thing she was—a perfect type of Spanish beauty. She tried her best to deter me from continuing my voyage; but next morning she went to the river to see me start. In fact the entire village was there. When I was about to step into the water and was bidding her adieu, she pressed a small religious medal into my band, saying:
"Oh, I am so afraid you will never get to Lisbon. Take this, it will help you through, The Blessed Madonna will protect you from danger."