Democratic Sentinel, Volume 6, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 March 1882 — A BRAVE VOYAGER. [ARTICLE]

A BRAVE VOYAGER.

Capt. Paul Hoy ton has figured in many thrilling adventures. Aloue at night uiioii dark aud freezing waters, uucertaiu as to liis course, with not a btar vi-ible in the Id ick vault above him, he has puss hi fearlessly through dangers that would cause one less lion-hearted to quake with terror. His nomadio career has led him on many occasions into daring exploits, the mere mention of which is sufficient to send a shiver through the listener—such, for instance, as making the risky passage of the shark-infested bay iu Florida, or paddling from continent to continent across tbe treacherous Straits of Gibraltar. Paul Boytou’s stout spirit has kept him undaunted by perils, aud he has proven his bravery almost to foolhardiness. Sever but once has the brave voyager feared that the mantle of death was about to infold him. aud, curiously enough, this exception happened iu sunny Spain. The adventure occurred iu January, ’77. In that year Boy ton, who had descended the Tiber, Thames, Danube and other rivers, had been surfeited with ribbons, medals, aud decorations, and was generally looked upon as a demi-god, in the exuberance of his confidence declared that he would make the descent of the Tagus.

“The rash stranger to float in his devil’s dress down the Tagus! ” cried the start ed senoras, when the wonderful story was whispered about. “ The terrible Tagus ! He does not mean it. He would perish of cold. The furious waters w< >uld rend him to shreds against ttio sharp rocks. What manner of man is this mad young American ? ” The public laughed at the idea. This Americau had the heart of a lion, but was as wise as the ostrich that thinks to conceal itself from the hunter by burying its head in the sand. As well might he attempt to reach the bowels of the earth by passing salamauiauder-like through the fiery Vesuvius. Did he know that the river sped as an arrow through a wild region fraught with peril, and that fir hundreds of miles it darted through frightful canyons ? How many unlucky souls had launched their boats upon its fickle waters and had never again been seen in mortal form ! Did not the mothers of Toledo awe tlieir babes to sleep with tales of the mysterious river—of its terrible demon, whose shrieks of inhuman laughter were often heard by belated shepherds in the midst of th i st. >rrns that on sultry summer nights broke over the Tagus? Surely El CapitaD would admit that he only been joking. But the Captain had not been joking, and intonated very plainly that the person who would accuse him of such was what no Spaniard is called without clapping Ins hand on his dagger. Boyton had said he woutd descend the Tagus, and, be there 100 falls or 10,000 goblins, he would brave all and make the voyage or perish iu attempting it. The maxim death before dishonor found particular favor with the Spaniards, and in short order the current of popular opinion whirled around, so that those who had used every effort to dissuade the Captain from his undertaking suddenly became its warmest supporters. The remainder of this narrative is best told in Capt. Boyton’s words. “On the 7th of January, 1877,” he says, “ I began my journey down the Tagus. The weather was extremely cold, and a dull leaden sky seemed to the shivering throng around me ominous of my fate. With many adieus I slowly paddled from the shore into the center of the stream, which was shallow and narrow. The senoritas on the banks waved their bright-colored scarfs, and I think I noticed some of them weeping. My joints were rather stiff from want ol practice, and to restore warmth to my boJy I rapidly increased the power of my stroke. J igged stones were distributed wiih a rather too prodigal band, as I thought, in the course I was to take, and iu my anxiety to keep my eyes fixed on the dear friends lining the shore against these I several times bumped my head witli unpleasant velocity. Too soon a bend in the stream shutout the group from view. Lift to my own rest ictious, I began to speculate on the chaucc s of success or failure. I thought of my distant home, and a shiver crept through me as I deemed to see with startling distinctness my upturned body, pulseless and inanimate, tossed high on some barren rock by a treacherous rapid. I cannot tell why my mind ran on such horrible ideas. Neither befo e nor since have I felt the same degree of doubt, fear, indecision, perplexity. Iu my little tender I carried the usual supply of precautionary articles. I had plenty of food—bat of such a quality! In a water-tight bag were a piece of dried meat—it might have been horse flesh, from its cohesiveness; about tnree pounds of a species of hard tack as obstinate as a rock, and a dozen loaves of alleged bread, soaked to repulsiveness in rancid oil. As I banqueted on these dainties I consoled myself with the trite-maxim that visitors to

Borne should model their actions alter the example of that city’s inhabitants. “The Tagus is perhaps the most remarkable river I ever navigated. I left Toledo, in Spain, and paddled down through that country and Portugal to the Atlantic ocean, a distance of Bpo miles. For 7UO miles it is not navigable for vessels, but wiuds in an eiratio unit—to me—annoying manner through the most weird scenery that Spain possesses. Between Toledo and the ocean its descent is 3,600 feet. At its source and for a short distance down its shores are lined with luxuriant trees and grasses, but soon these utterly disapCr, giving way to arid and stony ks, which in torn grow into precipitous mountain sides. For the first three days I paddled along satisfactorily, but as the number of days since I began my journey increased my troubles augmented. Then my course wound through a continued series of canyons, whose gloomy walls were in places so bigu and steep that they almost met and nearly hid the sunlight from the yawning chasm beneath. Toward night it required no great stretch of fancy for me to imagine that I was being swiftly carried along through a mysterious passage. The riv?r was studded with bowlders, hurled from the mountain tops by fearful storms, and often as I was bowled along under the pressure of the roaring wind and rushing current I was thrown against one of these obstaoles and my senses nearly shaken from me. “To increase my p n ril the liver was full of falls and rapids of unusual violence. In places a shallow current would dart toward the rooky mountain side and then turn at a sharp angle and merge into a deep and peaceful sheet of water. I blessed these havens for they afforded me a chance of taking much-needed rest. Looking into their clear depths I could see hideous fish darting about, but the bottom was a fathomless pit. Words are wanting to picture the loneliness of my situat on. For ten days I saw not a shrub, not a blade of grass, not a single sign of man’s abode. My diet was nanseatiug and I felt with alarm that I was gradually losing my strength. “ One day, it was the twelfth of my journey, as I was floating on the bosom of a sort of lake, suddenly I was plunged head-first over a fall and struck with such force against the precipitous wall of the canyon that I lost consciousness. Happily my rubber suit saved me from what would have been otherwise a certain death. I recovered my senses after an interval, I know not how long, and, with a prayer on my lips, was about to resume my voyage, when to my horror I found that my tender was lost! It hud been sucked into a whirlpool, prob ably, and the current was rapidly bearing 1 me away lrom the scene. I was nearly frantic. My tender was gone, my hopes were blasted, my life was not worth a straw ! The contents of the little float were at that moment as precious to me as all the wealth that a King could bestow.

“I paddled on for several hours, trusting to fiud a way out of the river. It I could only find a shepherd generous enough to share with me his frugal meal I was saved. But my hopes were vain. Encumbered by my rubber armor, with waning strength and tremulous movements I made many futile attempts to clamber the slippery mountain sides, but iu every case I tumbled back into the river exhausted. For three days I was ushered on, I knew not how, by the impetuous waters. I was ravenous with hunger, my limbs quivered like aspens, a chill sweat oozed all over my body, and my brain was delirious. I swore like a madman, heaped maledictions upon the Tagus, and at times sang wild snatches of song. To this day I cannot account for the supernatural strength given me during those seventy-two hours of agony. The howling of wolves and the hooting of owls during the nights heightened the somber current of my reflection. On the morning of the third day, just after daylight* I entered the canyon of Cosaras. 1 swallowed a pint or two of lYatcr and Btood upright iu my rubber suit. I listened for the tinkling of a bell, or some sound that would give a token of a habitation. Nothing broke the silence but the distant fall of waters. As I sank back into the river, in despair, to my joy I thought I saw a thin veil of smoke coming over the edge of the high plateau and fdling on the water. My heart beat rapidly as I paddled on for five minuses in the direciion of the smoke. At last I saw the bluish haze rising from behind a gigantic rock. With accelerated steps I left the river and clambered along the rooky bank. Several times I slipped and fell, receiving numerous bruises.

“ I was compelled to make many detours to reach the plateau, but fiually reached it, almost dead from fatigue. I peered arouud the edge of the large rock that I had observed and saw the tire which caused the smoke. A large pot was suspended from a tripod over a fire kindled with sticks and matted grass. The pot contained what I now believe to have been a mess hardly fit for dogs, but which I then judged from the greasy odor to be hardly second to the dish of the gods. Two men, in active conversation, stood near the fire, with their backs toward me, and one of them stirred the savory mess while he talked. They were dressed in the garb of mountaineers, and were most probably shepherds. Both were clothed in faded garments, but all the colors' of the rainbow were there, more or less obscured by the dirt of years. My hunger was so I introduced mvself without the tedious ceremonials so highly apprecia'ed in Spanish society. I inflated my dress, and, standing forth in full view, let my paddle fall to the ground. Startled by the noise, the men turned about and gazed at me in superstitious terror. With shrieks of fear they swiftly turned about and scampered off at the top of their speed. Then I went over to the pot and ravenously devoured its lialf-cooked contents, scorching my throat and spilling half of the food. 1 never saw my impromptu hosts after, nor did I care to see them, in fact. After my repast I disrobed of my armor, and, stretching at full length on the Bward. was soon slumbering. When I awoke I hid my rubbef covering and walked for a few miles, when I came to a farm house and managed to buy another lot of greasy bread and indigestible hardtack. From this point to its mouth the river was navigable and I never more was troubled about food. Ou the eighteenth day I arrived at my journey’s end. I was met by the Governor of Oasaras, his suite and many ladies and gentlemen who had anxiously been expecting me. The whole party rode on gayly caparisoned mutes to the castle of the Governor, where I received a royal welcome and rested for a fortnight. Thus ended my navigation of the Tagus, the first and only time that a man had ever descended that terrible river from its source.to its mouth. Perhaps after many days the story will be toid in whispers among the Spanish peasantry of how, once upon a time, while two mountaineers of Casaras were cooking their morning meal, the devil appeared to them in a horrible form, horns, hoof and tail, surrounded by fire, and caused them to flee for their lives.” Gkief never sleeps ; it watches continually, like a jealous husband. All the world groans under its sway ; and it fears that, by sleeping, its clutch will become loosened, and its prey then escape.

Horace B. Dick, Esq., associate editor of the Delaware Co. Republican , Chester, Pa., was cured by St. Jacobs Oil of very severe injuries resulting from a fall. His arm appeared to be paralyzed, but the Oil cured him. —Philadelphia Ledger ,