Part 6 (1/2)
”Sons, I think you have done enough for France and it is best for you to leave Paris and go home.”
Then calling an orderly he gave instructions that they should be taken to the rail road station and sent to Havre. Before leaving, he presented each with twenty-five francs and instructed the orderly to secure them transportation to the seacoast. The orderly who accompanied them to the station was an enthusiastic admirer of everything American. He had a brother in Quebec, which city he thought was about fourteen miles outside of New York. So vehement was the hospitality he had pressed on Paul and his companion that when he entered the station his military dignity was lost and nothing remained but his idea of treating his American friends to the best in the land. He placed them in a first cla.s.s compartment against the remonstrance of the guard, whom with drawn sabre, he defied to eject them. As the train rolled out of the station cries of ”Vive la France,” ”Vive l'Amerique,” were exchanged.
At Rouen, then held by the Germans who had military guards all around the station, the train was detained for over half an hour owing to an accident. While waiting, Paul and his companion left the station to procure some tobacco. They pa.s.sed a German soldier on guard at the gate who did not intercept them. On returning, the sentinel stubbornly refused them permission to enter notwithstanding the fact that they showed him their pa.s.s-ports and transportation; but they could not persuade him either in French or English to let them pa.s.s. At this moment a German officer arrived, when Paul advancing told their situation in French. Taking the transportation card from Paul's hand he showed it to the sentinel, and after many harsh sounding remarks in German he struck him with his open hand across the face. The soldier, still presenting arms to his superior officer showed no sign of resentment; not even a flush mounted to his cheek. The officer pa.s.sed them in and Paul remarked to him:
”No French soldier would have stood that treatment.”
”Possibly not,” answered the officer, ”but German soldiers know what discipline is.”
On arriving in Havre, Paul found many volunteers placed in the same position as himself. All were waiting a chance to return to America; most of them looking to the French government to a.s.sist them home. While waiting for these orders that were very tardy in coming, Paul made the acquaintance of a Danish Count who had served all through the war.
His quiet, gentle manners and evident embarra.s.sment at being surrounded by the rough crowd of adventurers and soldiers of fortune with whom Fate had thrown him, appealed to Paul's sympathy, He said to the Count: ”Come with me and I will take care of you.” They secured lodging together on the upper story in a house in the Rue de l'Hospital for the princely consideration of one franc a week, which the landlady informed them must be paid in advance. With the air of a millionaire, Paul paid the rent for the first week and cheerfully intimated to the landlady that they would require the best room in her house as soon as their remittances arrived. Their room was a miserable affair in the attic, lit up with one small window. The scant bed clothes often compelled them to sleep in their uniforms of a cold night. When they reached their apartment they compared notes and found that all the money they had between them amounted to eight francs and seventy five centimes, (about $1.75).
”We must sail close to the wind now, Count,” said the ever cheerful Paul to the despondent Dane. ”With good management we can live high on a franc a day.”
They did not live high, but they subsisted. Paul had entire charge of the household affairs and he drove hard bargains with those whom he favored with his patronage. The little square, two cent cakes of sausage were eagerly scrutinized while he weighed the one cent loaves of bread in his hand. Every two cent herring was examined as closely as a gourmand would a porter-house steak or some rich game. When the provisions were secured, Paul returned to their apartment where he generally found the Count with his head between his hands, seated near the window. ”Now for the banquet,” he would exclaim as he lit up a sou's worth of wood with which to fry the herring. The little squares of sausage would be placed on the soap dish. At times he prevailed on the Count to go down and get the cracked pitcher full of water, which made up their morning drinking cordial, while Paul was frying the herring.
After it was cooked, it was scrupulously divided into two equal parts and they seated themselves. After meals they generally went out to ascertain news from the government in regard to sending them home. Some days they treated themselves to a regular table d'hote dinner at a little eating house kept by a widow on the quay. The cost of this dinner was thirteen sous and they could not often indulge in such a luxury. As time advanced things were getting more and more desperate. The Count was so gloomy and despondent that Paul feared he would end his life as he had threatened to do several times unless something turned up.
They were now indebted to the landlady for two weeks' room rent. She had a very sharp tongue and used to fire a broadside at them every time she would meet them. In pa.s.sing her door while ascending or descending, they generally removed their shoes as they did not wish to disturb her ladys.h.i.+p for whom they entertained great respect. Things continued to grow worse and worse until at last Paul spent the few last sous they had on two small loaves and a herring. They did not have even wood to fry the herring and were compelled to use the stump of a candle, which remained, to cook it with. Before retiring that night, Paul suggested to the Count the necessity of their trying to get some work, to which the Count replied that he would prefer death any time to the idea of going to work. Long before daylight Paul slipped quietly out of bed, dressed himself in his old uniform and proceeded in the direction of the docks. Near one of the bridges he saw a large group of men standing. He joined them and learned that they were all waiting for work, and that they expected the contractor along in a few minutes.
The boss soon made his appearance and commenced reading from a slip of paper: ”I want ten men at such a dock, five men at another place, eight men at another place and twenty-five men at the dry docks.” The crowd separated itself into gangs, Paul joining the one that was called last. As the men pa.s.sed the contractor, each one was handed a slip. When Paul's turn came to get his slip, the contractor looked at him curiously and said:
”Why, you are an American volunteer, what do you want here?”
”I want work,” answered Paul, ”and pretty badly too.”
”Well,” said the contractor: ”I am sorry that I have no better job to give you today, but by to-morrow I will have something better.”
Paul followed the gang to the dry docks where a large steamer had been hauled up. On exhibiting his piece of paper to the foreman, he received a three cornered sc.r.a.per, a piece of sharp steel with a handle about eighteen inches long. He was told off to a certain plank suspended by ropes down the side of the vessel in company with two old dock rats who eyed him rather sullenly as though he was an intruder. Paul quickly slipped down the rope and seated himself on the plank, while the two professors climbed leisurely down and took a seat on either end, he occupying the middle. The side of the s.h.i.+p was thickly studded with barnacles and other sh.e.l.l fish. She had just returned from a long voyage to the tropics and was very foul. The air was chilly and raw down on the dark, damp stone dock. Paul was anxious to warm himself, so made a furious onslaught on the barnacles and soon had them flying in every direction. He stopped for breath and found his companions, instead of following his example, were gazing at him with looks of disgust and astonishment. One of them exclaimed:
”Regard him, look at him!”
While the other, with feigned pity, tapped his forehead with the tips of his fingers, as much as to say, ”He is crazy, my brother.” One of them then placed his hand on Paul's arm and asked him how long he had been engaged in sc.r.a.ping s.h.i.+p's bottoms.
”This is my first day,” answered Paul, thinking he might have done something wrong.
”I thought so,” responded his questioner. ”A few more mad men like you would ruin our work in the dock. Why, at the way you are going the s.h.i.+p's bottom would be clean before night fall. This is the way to do it,” and he puthis sc.r.a.per against the side of the vessel and slowly and laboriously removed a single barnacle. Then he laid the sc.r.a.per on the plank beside him and drew out his pipe which he leisurely filled with tobacco and lighted. After taking a few whiffs he asked Paul where he was from and what caused him to seek work there. Paul fully explained his position and the cause that compelled him to work. After this, his two companions seemed to thaw out and entertained him with words of advice, instructing him in many methods of killing time when the foreman was not around. At noon all hands were called up out of the docks and each received a card to the value of two francs, which the foreman told Paul he could have cashed at the canteen by purchasing a dish of soup or a small piece of bread. Paul indulged in a five cent dinner and deeply regretted that the Count was not there to share it with him. He received one franc and seventy five centimes which he carefully stowed away. After dinner the plank was s.h.i.+fted and they resumed work at the barnacles. Before the six o'clock bell rang to cease work, Paul and his two preceptors were quite friendly. They told him that if he intended to pursue the business he should remember one thing:
”Never do what you did this morning, that is slip down the ropes first, particularly when there are three men to work on a plank, for,” they gravely explained, ”the two coming down last would occupy seats close to the ropes that net only act as a back brace when resting yourself, but would also be a means of saving your life in case the plank broke; when you could grab hold on the rope and the man in the middle would drop to the stones below and be killed. Of course the two clinging to the rope could be hoisted to the deck or be carefully lowered to the bottom.”
At six o'clock Paul received a ticket for two more francs. To get it cashed, he purchased a gla.s.s of wine for two sous and then started on a run for his lodgings where he fully expected to find the Count dead.
He ran the blockade of the landlady's door without the formality of taking off his shoes. Das.h.i.+ng into the room he exclaimed:
”Count! Count, where are you?”
”Here I am,” exclaimed a faint voice from the bed.
”Well, I'm glad you are not dead, we dine at the widow's to-day. Look at this.”
The Count started up and gazed on the seventy-three cents Paul exhibited with eager eyes, then looking reproachfully at him he said:
”Paul, I hope you have not taken to the highway.” ”No,” said Paul, ”I worked for that and hard too, so come on and we will have such a dinner as we have not had in two weeks.”
Under the genial influence of the banquet, the Count confessed to Paul that he had retired to bed in the hope of dying quietly of starvation, providing the landlady had not disturbed him as he felt convinced that Paul had abandoned him. That night the landlady received one week's room rent and graciously gave them three days more to settle up in full. Paul was out again before daylight and sought out the contractor. This day he got a job on the s.h.i.+p Fanita of San Francisco, discharging grain. It was much cleaner and easier than sc.r.a.ping the steamer's bottom. His job was to guide the sacks of grain out of the hold while a horse on the dock attached to a long line pa.s.sed over a block hoisted them up. While at this work the two mates of the s.h.i.+p stood near the hatchway and commenced making remarks about Paul whom they thought was a Frenchman.