When The Queen steamed away from her dock, Paul
descended into the steerage and stowed away his outfit in an unoccupied
bunk. From that time until Sunday evening, he kept very quiet and no one
on board knew of his intentions. About eight o'clock he slipped on
deck and under the shelter of a life boat commenced to dress himself in
the suit. The weather had been fair and the steamer was making good
headway so he calculated she was at that time two hundred and fifty
miles out. He was quickly dressed in his armor, and with the rubber bag
in one hand and the paddle in the other he was about to make a leap into
the sea, when a hand was laid roughly on his shoulder and a gruff voice
said:
"Here, where are you going?"
Paul mildly explained that he was going ashore. The deck was all
excitement in a moment as the deck hand loudly reported to the officer
on the bridge.
"Bring him aft," was the command.
Equipped in his strange looking dress, bag in one hand, paddle in the
other and an ax strapped to his side and firmly gripped by two sailors,
Paul was ushered back. They were followed by a crowd of curious
passengers. On the captain perceiving him he exclaimed:
"Ah! Boyton you are aboard of me. Take off that suit and pass it over to
the steward.
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