Part 14 (2/2)

At Coblentz the Stra.s.sburg boatmen refused to go any farther so they were sent home. The guiding of the press boat was now left to the tender mercies of Simnick. Some of the press men occasionally volunteered to help him. His erratic steering brought him showers of abuse, the occupants of the boat became so nervous that they earnestly desired Paul to remain as near them as possible. Paul knowing that his baggage was aboard, did not require a second invitation. Once Simnick landed the party on a bar, before they got the boat afloat again, all excepting Simnick's master, the Count, were compelled to take off their shoes and shove her off.

Shooting pontoon bridges was the greatest danger. On approaching one, all were aroused and the press men's-hearts were kept pretty close to their mouths. The Count, seated forward in his little carriage, was almost knocked over board, while the boat grazed some spar or bridge.

On each of these occasions, the imprecations of the Count, both loud and deep, fell harmlessly around the stolid Simnick. The Count adopted new tactics when approaching a place where bad steering would be likely to cause serious trouble. He would, by the aid of his hands, get down from his carriage and seat himself in the bottom of the boat with the expression of his face, saying:

”Well, if I have to die, I will not have my brains knocked out.”

The fifth day after leaving Stra.s.sburg, the party reached Cologne, where they were received by the booming of cannons and ringing of bells. The greatest excitement prevailed in the quiet old town and Paul was the recipient of many honors and presents. Several poems were dedicated to him, good, bad and indifferent. One very persistent poet, whose knowledge of English was rather limited, bored him considerably. He got so inflated over Paul's feigned praise, who had tried this ruse to get rid of him, that he had his poem put in a German paper and printed in English at his own expense. It was as follows:

Hall my boy! coming to us with a ton full of reason, Bringing that, what now is most of season: The best of these we did meet since years In a period of apprehensions and fears.

You are, no doubt of those good hearted fellows, Who like to lead the men through friendly meadows; G.o.d bless always your n.o.ble, humane aim, And give to it the success you do claim.

The people by his loud acclamation, May prove to you that it feels no temptation To cut the throats, to break the necks around And make a grave of all European ground.

It is a sort of cry that's rising, To prove that there are men enough despising Armstrong and Krupp etcetera With Dyrose, Snyder, Mauser, yea.

Are you returned to Uncle Sam's cottage, Then make aware your countrymen of every age: Your finding the German people sorry for human life, But not for scorn and war and strife.

And now, farewell, my boy, with your ton of reason, May G.o.d you bless at every season.

The trip on the Rhine concluded, Paul in company with Doctor Willis visited several cities in Germany, Holland and Belgium, where he gave exhibitions till the ice stopped his work. He then crossed to England and took a steamer to New York on a flying trip home, where he arrived December 28th, 1878. He had been gone about sixteen months.

CHAPTER XI.

After spending a few weeks with his family, Captain Boyton received an invitation to visit a friend in St. Louis. While there the swift current of the Mississippi, which was then flowing with ice, tempted him and he made a voyage from Alton to St. Louis, about twenty-five miles. A boat containing newspaper reporters was to accompany him down; but the weather proved too cold for them and they abandoned him after a few miles. The thermometer was below zero, and a man was frozen to death that morning in a wagon at Alton. His reception in St. Louis was something extraordinary. The deafening noise made by the steamers and tug boats as they pa.s.sed the bridge was heard far beyond the city limits. Before he left St. Louis he gave a lecture for the benefit of St. Luke's Hospital, and on that occasion was presented with a ma.s.sive silver service. General Sherman made the presentation speech.

From St. Louis he went to New Orleans where he decided to feel the waters in the stronger currents of the lower river. He concluded to take a run of a hundred miles and gave himself twenty-four hours in which to make the voyage. Several members of the press intended to accompany him on the trip and a row boat was procured for their accommodation. This boat was placed on board the steamer Bismarck that was bound to St.

Louis. It was arranged with the Captain to drop them off at Bayou Goula exactly a hundred miles above. As the steamer, to get ahead of an opposition boat, started an hour before the advertised time, all the newspaper reporters except one, were left behind. At six o'clock the next morning, Paul and the reporter were landed on the levee at a miserable looking little Louisiana village. They breakfasted at the solitary hotel; after which they made enquiries in regard to a pilot.

All agreed that a colored man named Gabriel was the best. They sauntered forth on the levee to hunt up Gabriel. They were followed by a large crowd of negroes, young and old who had heard about the wonderful man- fish. Paul was informed that Gabriel was out in the river catching driftwood, and the entire colored population appeared to join in yelling for ”Gabe” to come ash.o.r.e. Gabriel, who was a tall, sad looking negro, was called on one side by Paul who explained that they desired his services for twenty-four hours, he stated that there was plenty of provision aboard for him and that he would send him back from New Orleans by steamer, so that his trip would not cost him a cent. Gabriel received the communication in stolid silence. He then retired to a log where he seated himself in the centre of a number of his darkey friends.

After a consultation, he returned and announced that the figure would be twenty-five dollars.

”Why, what do you mean, you black rascal!” exclaimed Paul, ”it will really be only one day's work. How much do you make a day gathering driftwood?”

”Two an' foah bits a day sah.”

”And you want twenty-five out of me for one day's work? I will give you three dollars.”

”All right, boss, all right, sah,” responded Gabriel without a moment's hesitation.

Soon after, Paul and the newspaper man were approached by a darkey, who introduced himself as Mr. Brown. He said:

”I heah dat yo' hab engage Gabe fur pilot ye' down to New Yorleans. Dat n.i.g.g.ah don' know nofing 'bout de riber, sah, no sah, me do dough, an, me'll go down fur nothin' sah.”

<script>