Part 1 (1/2)
The Story of Paul Boyton.
by Paul Boyton.
CHAPTER I.
One bright day in July, 1858, two women carrying well filled market baskets, were crossing the old Hand Street bridge that spans the Alleghany River between Pittsburgh and Alleghany City, Penn.
”Oh, Mrs. Boyton, do look at that child in the middle of the river paddling around on a board.”
”Well,” said the one addressed as Mrs. Boyton, ”I'm glad it is none of mine. My son Paul, loves the water dearly, but I took the precaution to lock him up before I started for market.”
After observing the child, who was evidently enjoying his aquatic sport, for some time, the two women proceeded on their way. On reaching home, Mrs. Boyton, with a feeling of remorse for keeping her young son so long in captivity, went up stairs to release him, and to her consternation found that he had escaped. Three minutes later an excited woman stood on bank of the Alleghany, vigorously waving her hand and hailing the youthful navigator. The forward end of the one by twelve inch board was reluctantly headed for sh.o.r.e, and slowly idled in. As the child reached land, he was grasped by the angry and anxious mother, who beat a merry tattoo on a tender portion his body with a s.h.i.+ngle.
This was not the first time that the young hero had received punishment for loving the water. His home was within one block of the clear and swift flowing Alleghany; and whenever he could escape the vigilant eye of his mother, he was found either on the bank or in the water. One day, Mrs. Boyton, who had a continual dread of his being drowned, was going on a visit, and she determined to secure Paul against accident. She took him upstairs, undressed him and removed his clothes from the room. She locked the door and went away content.
The day was lovely; the water lay clear and blue in sight and Paul could hear the delighted cries of the boys as they plunged into its refres.h.i.+ng depths. The temperature was too strong. Paul searched the room carefully and to his joy, discovered a pair of his father's drawers. He got into them and tied the waist-string around his neck.
Then forcing a window, he slid down the convenient lightning rod like a young monkey, and was found in his usual haunt by his astonished mother some hours later. From this time on, she gave him more liberty to follow his natural bent. From early May until late in October, when not at school, Paul spent most of his time in the water.
In those days, driftwood, consisting of slabs, logs and boards, were continually floating down the river from the headwaters, where the great forests were being cut down. When he saw a nice piece of wood, Paul would cut through the water like a young shark, and swim with it ahead of him to the sh.o.r.e, where his lumber pile was a goodly sized one. He kept his mother's cellar well supplied with firewood and sold the surplus to the neighbors; the proceeds of wich were devoted to gingerbread and even at that early age to the abominable roll of tobacco known as the ”Pittsburgh Stogie.”
Great rafts of lumber were coming down the river daily and a favorite amus.e.m.e.nt when he saw one, was to run up the river bank about a quarter of a mile, swim off and board it. In this way he became acquainted with many of the hardy ”buck-tail” boys who piloted the huge rafts down the river. His knowledge of the different bars that were formed by the bridge piers was utilized, and often proved of great a.s.sistance to his friends, the raftsmen. One day, he boarded a raft, the captain of which was evidently a stranger to the channel in the vicinity of Pittsburgh, and Paul saw that it was certain to run aground. He told the captain and was so earnest in his manner, the course was ordered changed. Less than 500 yards further down, the ugly bar showed up not five feet from the side of the raft, as it went gliding by. The raftsman insisted on keeping the little fellow by his side until he was safely moored to the Pittsburgh sh.o.r.e; then as a reward for his services, presented Paul with a little flat boat about twelve feet long by five feet wide and ordered two of the crew to tow it with a skiff to the Alleghany side.
The generous present was most joyfully and thankfully received, for Paul's sole and only ambition for a long time had been to own a boat.
As the two st.u.r.dy oarsmen with the boat in tow, neared the Alleghany sh.o.r.e, Paul stood erect in the stern, his eyes s.h.i.+ning with triumph and satisfaction, and loudly hailed his playmates to come and see his prize. It is safe to say, that no commander of a vessel, ever viewed his craft with more pride, than Paul did his little flat-bottom boat. He named her ”Gray Eagle.” He was ever tired of overhauling, scrubbing and cleaning her. All the money realized by the capture of drift-wood, was devoted to the purchase of paint. He selected and s.h.i.+pped a crew from among his playmates. They were soon able to drive her where they liked upon the river with long poles and paddles, and many a successful battle royal was fought with their old enemies across the river, the Pittsburgh boys. The ”Gray Eagle” was generally half loaded with nice, round stones that served as ammunition.
The ”Eagle” would be carefully poled up the Alleghany sh.o.r.e against the current, then headed out and vigorously paddled towards the Pittsburgh side. Nearing the enemies' headquarters a skirmish would be opened by a shower of stones sent into their ranks. If the Pittsburghers were not sufficiently numerous to repel the invasion, the ”Gray Eagle” was landed. The majority of the crew pursued the flying enemy up the back streets, while the balance remained and hastily loaded up the best of the driftwood from the piles gathered by their antagonists. When their cargo was secured, the skirmishers were called in. All leaped aboard, and the ”Eagle” headed for Alleghany, where the wood was carefully stored, far beyond the reach of a probable invasion by the Pittsburghers.
About this time a new enterprise opened for the commander and crew of the ”Gray Eagle.” The city commenced to pave the streets with large round stones called ”Pavers,” many of which were found in pockets at the bottom of the river. One day a contractor met Paul on the bank and said:
”Say, son, could not you boys gather a lot of pavers? I will buy them from you and give you thirty cents per hundred.”
The offer was eagerly accepted. Next day the ”Eagle” was anch.o.r.ed with a piece of rail-road iron, over a pocket, and the crew engaged in diving through the transparent water to the bottom, where they would gather one or two pavers, return to the top, and drop them into the boat. Paul had much difficulty in teaching his companions to keep their eyes open while under water. This occupation was pursued with varying success during the summer months of '59. The contractor came down every week to cart the ”pavers” away; and many a dispute the boys had with him over the count. The dispute was generally decided by the carts driving off, and the contractor paying whatever he pleased. The boys discovered a rich pocket right near the old Aqueduct bridge. They worked it enthusiastically and were loath to leave such a find, until they had overloaded the Eagle. When all the divers climbed aboard, the additional weight almost swamped her. The strongest swimmers were compelled to go overboard and resting their hands gently on the gunwale, they propelled her by swimming toward the sh.o.r.e. They had not proceeded far when the bottom of the well-worn ”Eagle” fell out and the cargo disappeared.
While the boys hung on to the framework of their wrecked craft, their enemies across the river observed their predicament and sallied forth in a skiff to chastise them. The Alleghany boys swam for their own sh.o.r.e as rapidly as possible. On gaining shallow water, they faced about on their a.s.sailants and a battle was fought that was long remembered by the inhabitants on both sides of the river. In the meantime, the wreck of the ”Gray Eagle” floated gently down to the Ohio, where the powerful current caught it and hurried it off to the southward.
After the loss of the ”Eagle” the boys resumed their old sport of swimming and gathering wood. About this time, owing no doubt to the complaints of the riverside inhabitants, the city authorities determined to stop all further rows and displays of nudity. The orders against naked bathing were strictly enforced by a constable named Sam Long. Before the boys got thoroughly acquainted with him, he often captured an offender's clothing, which he detained until the boy came ash.o.r.e. Then Sam would escort him to the Mayor's office to receive a stern reprimand, or his parents would be compelled to pay a small fine.
Paul was never caught, for he was always on the outlook for the watchful Sam. On the constable's approach he would swim rapidly to his wardrobe which always lay conveniently close to the water. As it was neither weighty nor large, he would pile it on his head, tie it with a string under his chin; then swim swiftly off to the first pier of the bridge.
This was fully fifty yards out in the stream, and here Paul would sit on the abutment rocks until Sam's patience was worn out and he would depart. Then Paul would swim leisurely to the sh.o.r.e, dress himself and go home.
Paul's elder brother, Michael, was a studious sedate boy who took no pleasure in the sports and adventures of his aquatic brother. But Paul's glowing descriptions of the pleasures of plunging and paddling in the cool, clear river, at last induced Michael to join in the watery gambols. One warm afternoon he accompanied his brother to the riverside.
Paul slipped out of his clothes and was soon disporting himself in the refres.h.i.+ng water, while he shouted encouraging remarks to his hesitating brother to follow his example. Michael slowly disrobed and cautiously stepped into the water. He was no swimmer; but being surrounded by Paul and his companions, he grew bolder, waded farther out from sh.o.r.e, where he was soon enjoying himself as heartily as any of them.
Suddenly the cry of ”Sam Long” was raised. Many of the boys seized their clothing and disappeared in the direction of their homes. The hardier swimmers, with Paul, struck out for the abutment on the pier in their usual way and poor Michael was left alone. Sam gently gathered up Michael's clothes, and retired to a lumber pile where he leisurely seated himself and waited for the owner to land. Michael had often heard of the terrible Sam Long so he did not go ash.o.r.e, though Sam called him frequently. At last growing weary, the constable walked away with the captured wardrobe. As he disappeared, Michael started on a dead run for home. His clothes were recovered; but it was some time before Michael was inclined to calculate how many cubic feet of bread Paul would consume in a week, or to reckon how much time he lost from his studies by going into the water, as had been his custom. It is needless to add that it was many moons ere Michael went swimming again.
It was the custom then, as it is at present, to run enormous tows of coal barges, propelled by a powerful tug, from Pittsburgh to New Orleans. These grim and heavily loaded fleets had an intense fascination for young Paul. Many and many a day he spent in a.s.sisting the inland sailors in las.h.i.+ng boat to boat and diving overboard after spars, etc., that had slipped into the river. He often dreamt of the time when he would be large enough to go down the mighty Ohio and the great Mississippi. He made many friends among the coal men and eagerly devoured their stories of danger, of voyages down the river and of the comical ”darkies” in the far off south. Time after time he implored permission from his mother to go away on one of those barge trips, but she would never consent. One day while a.s.sisting as usual on a fleet that was about to depart, a great, dark whiskered man named Tom, who was his particular friend, said: ”Why don't you come with us, Paul? We will take good care of you and bring you safe hme again.”
The temptation was strong, but the thought of his anxious mother deterred him. Tom still urged and the wonderful stories he told about brilliant New Orleans and the mighty ”Father of Waters” rapt Paul's attention so that he did not at first notice that the tug ”Red Lion” was driving the huge fleet of barges ahead of her. Would he jump into the river and swin ash.o.r.e or would he go ahead?
”He who hesitates, is lost.”
”Paul remained on board. Tom took him to the lookout far ahead on the tow and Paul forgot all about home and gave himself up to the delight of watching the swiftly pa.s.sing banks while he listened to the swish, swish of the water as it beat against the bows of the barges. He was seated with the men on the watch, who pa.s.sed the time telling stories and laughing at rough jokes. When it was getting late his big friend Tom, said:
”Now Paul, it's time you turned in. There's your bunk,” pointing to a shelf in the dark and damp look-out house. Paul prepared to retire while the men continued their stories. The river-men of that time were rather given to profanity, so their yarns were freely interspersed with oaths.