THE GREAT VALLEY FLOOD.
The rearing river, backward pressed,
Shook all her trembling banks amain,
Then madly at the eygre's breast
Flung up her weltering walls again.
Then banks came down with ruin and rout,
Then beaten foam flew round about,
Then all the mighty floods were out.--JEAN INGELOW.
Meanwhile the worried and angry prison guard had barred up the doors for
the last time that night, to remain barred, as they said, against all
comers until the usual hour of opening next day; and then they went to
bed, and to sleep, little dreaming of the mighty power that would force
an entrance before the light.
Left alone in the prison cell to watch her sleeping patient, Miss Tabby
sat and whimpered over the baby, which she still held in her lap.
Sometimes she listened to the roaring of the river outside, and
sometimes she muttered to herself after the manner of lonely old ladies.
"Oh, indeed I do wish they would come. One on 'em, at any rate! Oh, it's
horrid to be left alone here in this dissolute place, with a dying
'oman, and she my own dear nurse child," she whined, wringing and
twisting her fingers, and looking from the face of the sleeping babe to
that of the unconscious mother.
"Oh, to think of my own dear father a-dying at a distance, and I never
to see him alive no more in this world!" she burst forth, sobbing and
crying.
"And oh, good Lord in heaven, what an awful night! I never did see sich
a night in my life, with the rain pouring and pouring barrels full in a
stream, and the river roaring around the house like a whole drove of
lions!" she exclaimed, shuddering from head to foot.
"And an endless night as it is, oh, my goodness! But it must be near
morning; I do think it must be near morning," she finally said, as she
arose and laid the baby on the bed beside its mother, and then went to
the window to look out for the dawn.
She started back with a cry of terror, and sank upon the nearest seat.
The cell, as I told you, was in the angle of the building, and had two
windows--the one looking down upon Black River, and the other upon Bird
Creek. Miss Tabby had peeped from that one which overlooked Bird Creek.
Day had dawned darkly and dimly, but the solitary woman saw enough to
curdle her blood with horror.
The river and the creek, lashed to fury, had swollen so high that they
were now merged into one body of water, and had risen nearly to the
second story of the building. If Miss Tabby could have put her arm
through the grated window, she might easily have reached down and dipped
her hand in the rising water, for it was rising so fast that she could
almost see it mount.
"Oh, my good gracious alive!" she cried, as she fell back on the
chair--"it's a flood! It's a flood like that I heard mother talk about,
which carried away the mills in ninety. It's a flood! it's a flood! And
we shall all be drownded in this horrid cell, like blind kittens in a
tub!"
And made desperate by terror, the old woman started up, and rushed to
the barred and bolted door of the cell, and rapped and kicked with all
her might, and threw herself against it, and called, loudly and
frantically:
"HELP! MURDER! MURDER! HELP! Take us out, or we'll all be drownded in
ten minutes!"
But bolts and bars resisted all her strength, and the noise of winds and
waters drowned her voice. And the same cause that rendered others deaf
to her frenzied cries for help, prevented her from hearing the sounds of
terror and confusion that came up from the story below--the groaning and
crying of men locked up in their cells; the calling and shouting of
warden and watchmen, rushing from corridor to corridor to release the
prisoners from their imminent peril; the clattering of feet, the
mingling of voices; in short, all the discordant notes that go to make
up the infernal concert of a crowd surprised and maddened by sudden and
general disaster.
There was also another reason why Miss Tabby's cries for help could not
be heard. Sybil Berners was the one solitary prisoner in this long and
remote corridor. Her door was barred and bolted fast, and it was not
deemed necessary to leave a night watch on duty near it. Thus, if they
should happen to be forgotten in the general panic, they would certainly
be drowned; for even if the thunder of waters, and the shouting of men,
and crashing of timbers, had been less deafening and distracting, Miss
Tabby's voice would still have failed to reach the ears of the distant
turnkeys.
From her fruitless efforts at the barred door, she rushed in
desperation to the grated window. With a fearful shriek she threw her
hands to her head, and rushed away again. The surrounding waters had
risen within a foot of the window sill! She filled the air of the cell
with her shrieks, as she rushed madly about from wall to wall, like a
frenzied screaming macaw, beating itself against the bars of its cage.
"To lie drownded here in the cell like a cat in a tub! To be drownded
like a cat in a tub!" was the burden of her death song.
And through all this Sybil slept the sleep of coma.
Suddenly the young babe awoke and added its shrill and feeble pipes to
the horrible uproar.
The old maid had all a mother's tenderness in her heart. In the midst of
her own agony of terror she ceased to scream, and went and took the babe
and cried gently over its fate, murmuring:
"Only a few hours old, and to die in this horrible den, my babe! Oh, my
babe! And you not even baptized! Oh, my goodness, not even baptized!
What shall I do? Oh! what shall I do? Let you die without baptism? Oh,
no, no! I never did baptize a child in my life, which I know I'm all
unworthy to do it! But--but, I know the church allows any one to
christen a child in danger of death. And so, my baby! Oh! my poor baby!"
And her voice broke down in tears as she bore the child to a table where
there was a pitcher of water.
Very humbly and reverently the old maid performed the sacred ceremony
that her faith taught her was essential to the child's salvation. And
she gave it the first name that came into her head--"Mary."
"There! now you are ready to go, my baby! Not that--that I really think
the good Lord would ever keep you, my innocent one, out of His heaven,
merely because you wasn't christened! No, no, I don't believe that
either! But still it's best to be on the safe side, when it's so easy
as sprinkling a little water and speaking a few words!--HUSH! I do
believe they are coming to let us out at last!" exclaimed Miss Tabby,
breaking off from her monologue, as through all the general uproar a
crashing sound close at hand smote upon her ear!
She hastily laid the child upon the bed, and hurried to the door. No one
was there, and the bolts and bars were fast as ever. But before she
could turn around the window fell in with a tremendous clatter and
bang--glass and grating ringing and shattering upon the floor.
Miss Tabby recoiled and squeezed herself against the wall in the corner.
She thought the window had been beaten in by the water, and she expected
the flood to follow.
But a tall man in dark clothing leaped through the opening, striking the
floor with a rebound, and then stood up and gazed around the dimly
lighted cell.
His eyes fell upon Sybil, as she lay in coma on the bed.
"All right, Raphael! You were correct. This is the cell, and here she
is. Come!" and he called to some one without.
A second figure, younger and slighter, jumped through the open window
into the cell, and stood, like the first had done, peering around
through the semi-darkness.
"Haste, Raphael! You were swift-footed enough to bring her here! Try to
be almost as swift-footed to bear her hence!" cried the first man,
seizing the form of Sybil and wrapping it hastily in the upper quilt.
As he was doing this, something rolled over and cried.
"Hallo! Here's a baby! I never bargained for that!" exclaimed the man in
astonishment.
"It is _her_ baby, father--the baby for whose sake the governor
prolonged her life. Let me take it," pleaded the youth.
"Why the demon didn't you tell me about this before?" angrily demanded
the elder, while carefully wrapping up the patient.
"I knew no more than yourself, father. _You_ knew, as I and everybody
did, that this child was expected, and that the governor respited the
mother for its sake; but I didn't know it had arrived until you spoke of
it," said the youth.
"Ah! you are more quick-witted than I," laughed the man sarcastically.
"Let me take care of the babe, father," pleaded the boy.
"Why?"
"Because it must be rescued with her."
"Why, again?"
"Because she would break her heart without it."
"How do you know?"
"Oh, father, even a bird loves its birdling; and of course this
tender-hearted lady loves her little one."
"She don't seem to love anything now, or even to know anything. She is
as stupid and lifeless as anything I ever saw that lived and breathed.
She is under the influence of opium, I should think," said the man, who
had now the form of the unconscious woman well wound around with the
quilt and laid over his breast and shoulder.
"Oh, no, she an't, sir! no, she an't--no sich a thing, sir! But she's
been in this here comotious condition, knowing nothing nor nobody, ever
since the baby arrove!" said Miss Tabby, coming from her concealment,
for she saw in these two men only benevolent individuals who had come to
deliver her and her lady.
"Who the demon are you?" demanded the elder, turning sharply towards
her.
"I an't no demon, sir! though I am mistreated all as if I was one,"
whimpered Miss Tabby.
"Then who are you?"
"I'm her poor, faithful, misfortunate nurse, sir," snivelled Miss
Tabby.
"Oh, you are!--Raphael, take the child into the boat! Never mind the old
woman; let her drown!" said the elder man, laughing savagely.
"Oh, sir, don't you do that! Don't you leave me here to drown, sir! to
die such a dismal death in this dark den!" pleaded Miss Tabby, catching
hold of the man's coat-tails.
"Go to the devil!" exclaimed the stranger, trying to shake her off.
"But I an't prepared to go, sir, indeed I an't," persisted Miss Tabby,
holding on.
"Go ahead, Raphael--I'm coming! And, confound you, so is the water! It
will be too late in another minute!" savagely exclaimed the man,
succeeding now in shaking himself free.
"Oh, sir! for pity's sake, sir, don't leave me here to drown! How can
you resky the mother and child, and leave a poor lone 'oman like me to
die? How can you, sir? Resky me, for your own blessed mother's sake! Oh!
young gentleman, beg for me! don't leave me!" prayed Miss Tabby, turning
from the elder to the younger man.
"Go on, Raphael!" shouted the man.
But the youth hesitated.
"Father," he said, "that old woman was kind to me. Save her! there is
room enough in the boat."
"Oh! you darling sweet Master Raphael! Is it yourself that is there?"
exclaimed Miss Tabby, delightedly. "Is it yourself indeed? Oh, tell the
gentleman what a faithful servant I have been, and how my young lady
loved me! and how she'd fret herself to death if I was to be drownded,
all through coming to her help in her trouble to-night!" pleaded the
poor creature, clasping her hands.
"Father, bring her off, for our sakes, if not for her own," said the
boy, diplomatically; "for if we leave her here, and she should be saved
by others, she may betray our secret."
"That is true," admitted the elder man. "So we will save the poor old
wretch, but only upon conditions. Here, you old devil!" he called,
turning to the woman.
"Yes, sir," said Miss Tabby, opening and clasping her hands.
"If I take you off in the boat to-night, and drop you down safe
somewhere on dry land, will you promise never to tell any living soul
who rescued you?"
"Yes, sir! yes, sir! and swear to it on the Bible! which there is one on
the table handy, sir!" eagerly assented Miss Tabby.
"And will you also promise never to speak of our visit to this cell
to-night?"
"Yes, sir! yes, sir! and swear to it!"
"And never to mention how Mrs. Berners and her child were saved?"
"Oh yes, sir!"
"Nor even that she was saved at all?"
"Oh yes, sir! and swear to it!"
"And you will never betray the secret, by word or sign?"
"No, sir!"
"But keep it to the day of your death?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Get the book, then, and take the oath. Raphael, take the child to the
boat and lay it on the blankets there, and then come back and help the
woman off. And, good Heaven! make haste! We must get away from here
immediately. I hear footsteps along the corridor! Some one is coming!
Haste! We must not allow Sybil Berners to be rescued through the door.
That would be worse than being left to drown! Haste, I say!" exclaimed
the man, speaking rapidly and excitedly as he caught up another quilt
and cast it over Sybil's form, and hurried with her towards the open
window.
There was indeed the most pressing need of haste, for more reasons than
one: the rising waters were now oozing through the stone walls and
covering the floor inside, while outside the flood was almost up to the
window sill. In a very few moments it would overflow the place.
Raphael laid the child down where he had been told to put her, and then
ran back into the cell to help Miss Tabby, who had faithfully taken the
oath required of her.
The elder man laid his insensible burden in the boat, and then climbed
in after her.
The last was a difficult feat, for the water was brimming to the window
sill, and the boat was above it.
As the man stepped into the boat, his weight caused it to tip so much
that it cast a shower into the cell.
Miss Tabby shrieked out that she was going to be drowned, although not a
drop of water had touched her.
Raphael soothed her and helped her into the boat, and put her in a seat
near the elder man.
"That's the thing! Now do you support this lady's head on your lap, for
I shall have to row," said the man, as he transferred Sybil Berners from
his own arms to Miss Tabby's, and then took up the oar.
Raphael took up the other oar, and they were rowing away from the prison
walls when their attention was attracted by the sound of a dog's whining
in the cell. They looked up and saw Sybil's little Skye terrier on the
window sill, with her fore-paws in the water. And at the same instant
little Nelly struck out, swam towards them, jumped into the boat, and
nestled at her mistress' feet.
The rain had ceased, and the clouds were breaking away from the eastern
horizon, where the first crimson streak heralded the rising sun.
They rowed swiftly towards the heights, which now appeared not so much
like the boundaries of a valley as the hilly shores of an inland sea.
Yes, the Black Valley seemed indeed transformed into a black lake,
surrounded with wooded hills, and dotted with wooded isles; but these
seeming hills were really mountains, and these seeming isles were the
tops of submerged trees.
They rowed to the nearest point of land and stopped the boat, where a
little path led up the steep ascent.
"Do you see that path?" inquired the elder man of the old woman.
"Yes, my dear gentleman, I do," said Miss Tabby.
"Do you know where it leads?"
"Yes, my dear gentleman; it leads to a cluster of quarrymen's cottages."
"Then get out of the boat and go up there; there you will find shelter."
"But, my good sir, my sick lady?" inquired Miss Tabby, hesitating.
"Never mind her. She will be a blamed sight better taken care of by us,
than she has been lately by any of you! Come, get out with you!"
"But, sir, I daren't desert my sick lady."
"I'm blest, if you don't get out of this boat in double quick time, if I
don't pitch your head foremost into the water, and drown you. We have no
time to stop here fooling with you till it is broad daylight," said the
man, starting to his feet as if about to put his threat into instant
execution.
Miss Tabby jumped up and scuttled out of the boat as fast as she could
go, without even having stopped to kiss her lady "good-bye."
And this was the last Miss Tabby saw or heard of Sybil Berners for many
long years.