The Story of Paul Boyton | Page 4

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 shore, 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 ashore, 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 assisting the inland
sailors in lashing 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 assisting 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 ashore 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 passing 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 passed 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.
Suddenly Tom said in a loud whisper:
"Dry up! Don't you see the youngster is saying his prayers?"
A hush fell on the group, all looked around. Paul, kneeling on the damp,
dirty beam alongside his bunk, was repeating the prayers learned at his
mother's knee.
With the return of daylight, the remorseful feeling of a runaway boy
came strongly upon him and Paul thoroughly realized how cruel he had
been to his dear mother. He begged his friend Tom to get him back or
to send a letter home. Tom dissuaded him from returning, but helped
him write a letter which was posted at Wheeling, Va. This informed his
mother that he was safe and would be taken good care of. Much
relieved in mind, Paul was soon enjoying again the beautiful scenery
and bright sunshine along the Ohio. His work was to carry the coffee to
the forward men on the lookout, and to help in many other little ways.
When nearing Evansville, Indiana, about seven hundred miles below
Pittsburgh, a great shock was felt on the fleet, and a shower of