The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood; Or, Perilous Days on the Mississippi Read online

  CHAPTER IX

  ANXIOUS HOURS

  "Where are you going to head for first?" asked Blake, as he and Joebegan "stowing away" their belongings, while Mr. Ringold stood at thewheel.

  "For that island, where the hotel clerk said our friends went to makepictures," replied the manager. "I know about where it is, as nearly ashe could tell me, and if they're not on the one they said they weregoing to, they may be on another, for there are several together."

  "Do you imagine they would be there all this while?" asked Joe, as hegot out one of the moving picture cameras, for they were at a place nowwhere some thrilling views could be made.

  "It is just possible they are," answered Mr. Ringold. "They may havelanded, taken some pictures, and then something may have happened."

  "Such as--what?" asked Mr. Piper. Of late he had not made as many gloomypredictions as usual. Perhaps he appreciated what Mr. Ringold said,about there being enough trouble without adding to it by needlesslylooking on the dark side.

  "Well, their boat may have gone adrift in the rising waters, and theymay have been forced to remain on the island," went on the theatricalman. "And there has been so much confusion and suffering out here, thattheir appeals for help, in case they could make any, may have goneunheeded.

  "So I think we'll head for that island, and see if we can get any clews.It is a sort of forlorn hope, but that is the only starting point I canthink of. How is she running, Blake?" he asked, for Blake was attendingto the motor, while Joe focused the camera.

  "Fine," answered the young engineer. "She's a powerful engine, allright."

  "She'll need to be," was the grim comment of the manager. "There is somepower to this current," and he looked over the side of the bow, at theonrushing, muddy Mississippi. Though they were in the upper reaches ofthe big stream, it had so increased in size that it was almost aconstant menace to the motor boat.

  Not only was the current powerful, but there were waves as large asthose that might have been encountered on some bay of the ocean; great,yellow muddy waves, that curled after the _Clytie_ as though tooverwhelm her. But the craft was in skillful hands.

  "Look at that!" cried Blake, as they swept around a bend, and saw, inthe flood, several small houses being carried down together. "Get thatJoe!"

  "I'm getting it!" shouted the young operator, as he turned the lens ofthe camera in that direction, and began grinding away at the handle.

  "I'll put you over closer, so you can get a better view," called Mr.Ringold, as he headed the bow of the motor boat in the direction of thefloating dwellings.

  As he did so there came a shout from shore, and several men were see toput off in some small boats. They pointed at the houses, and seemed muchexcited.

  "I wonder what that means?" spoke C. C., as he came from the enclosedcabin, out on the deck where Joe had the camera. "I wonder if they thinkthey can haul those houses to shore?"

  "It doesn't seem possible--with only their small boats," remarked Blake."They may be able to anchor them, though, and save them when the watersgo down."

  "You'd need an ocean tug to pull them out of this current," remarkedJoe, as he continued to take moving pictures. "But there must besomething up, or those men wouldn't be so excited."

  "Maybe they want us to try and tow the houses," suggested Blake.

  "Well, we're not going to do it," decided the manager. "It's too risky,though I'd try it if it was to save life."

  He had hardly spoken, when the group of houses swirled about in thecurrent. At an upper window of one of them appeared a woman, holding inher arms a baby. She stretched the child out toward those approachingher in small boats, as if appealing for help.

  "Say, we've got to save her!" cried Blake.

  "That's right!" agreed the manager.

  He headed the motor boat more directly for the floating dwellings, buthe had to use caution, as they were entangled in a mass of logs, jaggedtimbers, and other debris, that made it difficult to approach.

  And then, by some strange freak of fate, the houses swirled about again,and the woman and child could no longer be seen. But the dwellingsremained upright, so it was fairly certain that the two were safe in theupper room--at least for a time.

  Then the current carried the houses on some hidden sandbar, and theyrose higher from the water, tilted to one side, and remained there.

  "Look out!" cried Mr. Piper, as the manager continued to urge the motorboat onward. "We may go aground ourselves."

  "Can't help it--we've got to try to save that woman and baby!" cried Mr.Ringold.

  But there was no need for him to risk the _Clytie_, for the small boats,that had put out from shore came up then, and could more easily approachthe stranded dwellings.

  "We'll take 'em ashore, friends," said one of the men, in a small boat,to Mr. Ringold. "Just as much obliged to you, though. Better keep outfrom here, or you may stave a hole in your craft."

  "Just what I was thinking," the manager replied. "We'll stand by,though, and give you all the help we can."

  Then began the rescue of the woman and child from the house on thesandbar. It was accomplished with some difficulty, and the motor boatwas in a position where all the details could be seen well. Joe had agood position for his camera, and he ground away at the handle, gettinga series of fine views.

  The woman, sobbing hysterically, and clasping the child in her arms, waslifted into one of the boats, and wrapped in blankets, for it wasbeginning to rain again.

  "Better let me tow you ashore--or near to it," proposed Mr. Ringold.

  "Yes, it would help some--it's hard rowing," answered one of therescuers. So the motor craft was swung about until the three smallboats, which had come out to the houses, could be made fast to her, andthen she pulled them across the swollen river to the shore.

  The boys did not hear the details of how the woman came to be swept awayin her house. It was only one of many cases of people being caught inthe suddenly rising waters.

  Approaching as near shore as was safe, on account of the floating massesof debris, our friends cast off the towing ropes, and proceeded on theirway.

  "Well, I got some fine pictures, anyhow," declared Joe, as he put awayhis camera, for it was now raining so hard that no successful viewscould be made.

  They kept on down the mighty Mississippi, turning now and then to avoidobstructions, and at times being obliged to swerve almost directlyacross, which was not easy on account of the powerful current.

  The river was constantly making new channels for itself, and leaving oldones, but the Clytie was a boat of small draught, and could easilynavigate in shallow places.

  "Suppose we eat something?" proposed Blake, for it was nearly noon.Considerable time had passed at the rescue work.

  There was a small gasoline stove in the cabin of the boat, and they hadwith them plenty of supplies, so it was not long before a meal was inpreparation. And, in spite of their anxiety about the missing ones, ourfriends managed to eat heartily. Even Mr. Piper seemed to lose most ofhis gloom, as he passed his cup for more coffee.

  "We ought to be near that island now," observed Mr. Ringold, as helooked across at the shore nearest to which they then were. "The hotelclerk said it was opposite a certain town, with two white churchsteeples. There are the two white church steeples he mentioned."

  "There isn't much of the town left," said Blake. "It's pretty well underwater." And that was a fact. The lower part was submerged, and as theycame up to it, men could be seen going about in boats, removingbelongings from houses, the lower floors of which were already underwater.

  No lives appeared to be in danger, for the people had doubtless fled tohigher ground on seeing the rising waters. On the hills back of the towncould be noted a number of tents, where, very likely, the refugees hadtaken up their abode.

  "But I don't see anything of an island," said the manager, as he peeredover the turbulent stretch of muddy waters.

  "If it was opposit
e this town, and the lower part of the town is underwater, the island is probably covered up by now," observed Blake,grimly.

  "I'm afraid so," agreed the manager. "We'll go over there, and make someinquiries."

  By going toward shore they were not in such a strong current, and soonthe motor boat was cruising along through what had been businessstreets.

  "This is like being in Venice," remarked Joe, as the _Clytie_ puffedslowly along between rows of stores and houses, from which men, inboats, were removing goods and furniture.

  "Looking for someone?" called a man, who had, in a big scow, an oddcollection of household effects, and stuff from a general store.

  "For a company of moving picture players," answered Mr. Ringold. "Theycame down to Pin Island, one day last week, to make some drama scenes,and they haven't come back. Can you tell us where Pin Island is?"

  "I can tell you where it _was_," said the man grimly. "Right out there,"and he pointed to a spot where nothing but a swirling rush of muddywaters could be seen. "That's where the island _was_, and it's probablythere yet, but you can't see it," he added.

  "Did you hear, or see, anything of the players?" asked Mr. Piper.

  "Well, I did hear that some of them were over there, just before thewaters got so high," the man answered. "But what became of them I don'tknow. I'm very sorry, but I can't help you."

  "Well, this is some information, anyhow," spoke Mr. Ringold. "We know weare on the right track."

  "You'd best look for 'em below here," the man in the scow went on. "Theycouldn't hardly make their way against the current. You'll probably find'em below. There's higher ground there, and they'd have a betterchance."

  "Is there another town near here?" asked Joe.

  "Yes, Bellmead, about four miles below. They've got a good levee there,and aren't so badly off as we are."

  "Then we'll go to Bellmead," decided Mr. Ringold.

  The motor boat was turned out from the submerged streets, and into theopen river again. It was still raining--quite hard now--and to try forpictures was out of the question, as the sky was dark and lowering.

  Keeping out of the middle of the Mississippi, and along one edge,proceeding over what, when the stream went down, would be ruined farmingfields, the motor boat went on her way.

  "That must be Bellmead," announced Joe, as they made a turn into a"cut-off," or place where the river had made a new channel for itself.He pointed to a place below them, as they could see, more favorablysituated than most along the Mississippi. It was protected by a highlevee, or bank of earth and stone, and against this the waters werebeating.

  "We'll land here, and spend the night," decided Mr. Ringold. "No usegoing on in the darkness, and we may get some news of our friends here."

  But they were disappointed in this last. No trace of the missing movingpicture players could be had.

  "Yes, there's a hotel where you can stay," said a man, one of several onthe levee, "but you may have to get out in a hurry."

  "Why?" Blake wanted to know.

  "Because this levee is weakening, and if it gives way the flood will beworse than ever."

  As he spoke many more men came up on the bank, evidently prepared forwork. Back in the town, also, could be seen long lines of negrolaborers, with wheelbarrows.

  "We're going to pile all the dirt we can on the levee," said the man,who appeared to be in charge. "It's going to be an all-night job."

  "Then let us help!" begged Mr. Ringold. "We've got to tie up here overnight, and our safety, as well as yours, will depend on it. Let ushelp."

  "Sure!" cried Joe and Blake, and Mr. Piper nodded his assent also.

  "Well, we need all the help we can get," spoke the man on the bank. "Ofcourse the colored men will do the rough work, bringing up the dirt inbarrows, and bags, but they need to be directed. You can help at that."

  And then ensued anxious hours. The work of strengthening the levee, tokeep the river away from the town, began at once, and was kept up allnight, by the light of flaring torches.