The Flood
Twenty-four hours of a hard, continuous downpour, accompanied by a
warm south wind, worked a mighty difference in the aspect of things
at Roaring Water Portage. By night on the day following the
arrival of the mail from Maxokama, the water was coming down the
rapids with a roar, bringing great lumps of ice with it, which
crashed to fragments on the rocks, or were washed down with the
current to be a menace to the shipping anchored in the river below.
All day long, heedless of the pouring rain, the men had worked at
getting the boats free from their winter coating of ice and snow.
So when night came, everyone was too thoroughly wet and tired to
think of night school, which gave Katherine a welcome holiday from
teaching.
She spent the time in sewing, and in making herself so generally
entertaining that even her father was more than once beguiled into
laughter. He was better and more hopeful than for a long time
past. He was even led into thinking and talking of the future, and
the work which would have to be done directly the fast-melting snow
made it possible to get about once more. Before daylight faded he
had helped Miles to get the big boat out, and carefully inspected
the seams to make sure that no caulking was required. They used
birchbark canoes a great deal at Roaring Water Portage in the
summer-time, but there was too much ice about for birchbarks to be
safe yet.
"We will knock up a little shed for the boat above the portage this
summer, then when next winter comes we can lay her up there,
instead of having to bring her down here," he said to Miles, as the
two discussed the probability of being able to get the boat up the
portage within a week.
"Oh, don't talk of next winter, Father; we have not got rid of this
one yet!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, who was entirely happy and
contented to-night, because of the omission of night school.
"It is going very fast anyhow, and I guess we shall see bare ground
in places to-morrow," Miles put in, talking in a sleepy tone; for
he too had been breaking out ice that day, and was desperately
tired.
"Yes, it is going, and I'm glad of it, for it has been the hardest
winter to live through that I can remember, and I'm thankful to see
the last of it," 'Duke Radford answered; and something in his look
and tone made Katherine ask quickly:
"Don't you feel well to-night, Father?"
"Yes, I feel better than I have done for many a week past," he
replied promptly; adding, in a tone too low for any but her to
hear, "and happier too."
"I believe you will feel better now, and get strong quickly," said
Mrs. Burton hopefully. "The winter had thoroughly gripped your
system, and that was why you could not get better before."
All night long the roar of the water seemed to grow louder and
louder, while the ice crashed, and the wild wind howled through the
leafless trees. But the morning broke fine, and the sun came out
to warm up a wet world. Such a very wet world it was, with the
river swollen to twice its ordinary width! But as Miles had
predicted, there was bare ground visible, and to eyes which had
looked on snow-covered earth for six long months the sight was
welcome indeed.
When breakfast was over, Katherine and Miles ran the boat down to
the water's edge, and floated it, getting in and paddling up and
down to see that there was no leakage, and to enjoy the novel
sensation after the long abstention from boating. But there was
work to be done, and they could not afford to spend even a part of
the day in rowing for their own amusement. Stores had to be taken
down to Seal Cove, and there was some bargaining to be done for
some tusks of narwhal ivory which 'Duke Radford had been
commissioned to obtain if possible. Narwhal ivory was getting
scarcer every year, and the storekeeper at Roaring Water Portage
was prepared to pay a very good price indeed for all that he could
obtain.
The journey down to Seal Cove was performed with ease and
swiftness, the only trouble necessary being the steering, which
called for the utmost care in that racing current.
"It will be stiff work coming back," commented Miles, thinking how
hard they would have to pull to make any sort of headway.
"Yes, I think we had better come home round by the off-creek; the
water won't run so fast down there," replied Katherine: and Miles,
being of the same opinion, assented with a nod.
At Seal Cove a curious state of things existed. The barrier of ice
at the mouth of the river had not yet given way, and the racing
current, penned in by the barrier, was mounting higher and higher,
and threatened to flood the whole neighbourhood.
Katherine and Miles delivered as many of their stores as they
could. But it was not possible to go bargaining for narwhal ivory,
as the flood made their destination inaccessible, so they turned
back instead, and started to row up a little backwater called the
off-creek, which in summer was too tiny to admit of the passage of
even a small boat, but was swollen now to the size of a river.
This waterway led straight past the unwholesome habitation of Oily
Dave, which faced the main river, while the creek ran at the back
door, or where the back door would have been had the tumbledown
house possessed one. The water was all round the house now, and
must have been creeping in under the edge of the door, only from
the back of the house they could not see this.
The two rested on their oars watching the scene, wondering whether
the house would be swept away, and where Oily Dave would build
himself a new residence, when they heard shouts, and from the
distant bank of the river saw a woman standing waving her arms in a
frantic manner.
"It is Mrs. Jenkin. But what can she want, for certainly her house
won't be in any danger yet awhile?" said Miles, looking across the
wide waste of waters to where a little brown hut was pitched high
up on the bank.
"Hush! What is she saying?" cried Katherine, and put her hand to
her ear to show that she was listening.
Mrs. Jenkin saw the motion, and lifted her voice afresh. "There
is a man--danger--house--Oily Dave!"
That was all they could hear, for the wind carried the words away,
and a great block of ice crashed against the front of Oily Dave's
abode, making the wooden hut shiver with the force of the blow.
"Oily Dave is shut up in his house, and Mrs. Jenkin wants us to
save him," said Katherine, waving her arms to show the woman on the
bank that she heard and understood.
"The old baggage isn't worth saving, but I suppose we shall have to
try what we can do," Miles answered, then shouted to Katherine to
look out.
The warning came only just in time, for at that moment the huge
block of ice which had struck the house before came swirling round
in their direction, and they had to dodge it as best they could.
"We must get round to the front, if we can," said Katherine, when
they had got the boat safely away from the danger of collision with
the ice.
"Not possible; look there!" shouted Miles excitedly, as a great
sheet of ice came gaily floating on the swift current, caught
against the corner of the house, and stuck there, banging,
grinding, and jarring with the movements of the swirling water, and
threatening to beat the house down like a battering ram. At the
same moment they heard a cry for help from inside the house, and
the woman on the far bank shouted and gesticulated more wildly than
before, while the whole structure groaned and shivered like a
creature in pain.
Katherine turned pale, but seized the oars resolutely. "There is
only one thing to do, Miles, and I am going to do it. Can you hold
the boat at the edge of the ice for five or ten minutes?"
"You are not going to get on to the ice?" he protested, his voice
sharp with dismay, as he looked at the bowing, bobbing fragment
many square yards in extent, which was grinding against the side of
the house, but which might split into fragments at any moment.
"Yes, I am. Then I shall creep round to the front, so that Oily
Dave can see me, and then, perhaps, his courage will be equal to
coming outside," she said, standing up and throwing off her thick
coat, for it would not do to be encumbered with much clothing when
any moment might plunge her into the water.
"Katherine, don't go. It is an awful risk, and the old man isn't
worth it!" pleaded Miles, and, despite the fact of his being a boy,
there were actual tears in his eyes as he urged her not to go.
But she would not listen, calling out sharply: "Bump her against
the ice and then I'll spring."
Putting out his strength, Miles brought the boat with a bang
against the floating ice island, and at the same moment Katherine
sprang lightly from the boat. But, despite her care, she landed on
all-fours, and, as the ice was awash, got rather wet in the
process. Rising to an erect position after a few preliminary
staggers, she walked cautiously out towards the middle of the ice
island, which would bring her within sight of the prisoner in the
hut, and would, she hoped, inspire him with sufficient courage to
help him in the task of getting him into the boat.
By this time the woman on the bank understood what she was doing,
and ceased shouting. It was Katherine's turn to make a noise now,
and she did it with all her might. "Oily Dave, come out! We've
got a boat at the back, and we will save you if you will be quick."
She was making so much noise herself, and picking her way with such
extreme care over the rotten ice, that she failed to hear the first
response to her calling, and the next pulled her up with a jerk.
"Oily Dave isn't here, but if you will take me I shall be very
thankful."
The voice was a strange one, and had an unmistakable ring of
refinement and culture. Katherine faced round with such a start of
surprise as to nearly send her sprawling again, for the ice was
full of pitfalls. A young man was leaning out through the small
square opening which did duty for a window, and her first
impression of him was of someone extremely tired, and that gave her
the clue to his identity. He must be the Englishman who had come
from Maxokama with the Indians who had brought the mail.
"Open the door and come out that way," she said in a tone of sharp
authority. "You will never be able to squeeze through that small
window unless your shoulders are very narrow indeed."
"Which they are not," he replied, and disappeared from view.
She heard him banging and tugging at the door, but never a jot did
it stir, and after about five minutes of this futile work he
appeared again at the window. The water was nearly on a level with
the opening now, and rising moment by moment, while there were
ominous ripping and rending sounds in Katherine's ice island, which
warned her that the rescue must take place in the next few minutes
if it was to be effected at all.
"The door is jammed. What am I to do?" the unknown asked in a calm
tone, with no flurry or fuss. Indeed, Katherine wondered if he
realized how great was his peril and her own.
"Break it down, smash it, anything; only be quick, please," she
said sharply, marvelling a little at his unconcern in the face of
such grave danger.
Again he disappeared, and Katherine heard a rain of heavy blows
beginning to fall upon the door; then with a cracking, splitting
noise the panel gave way, the man inside wrenched off the broken
part, and stood revealed up to his waist in water. But there was a
space of fully three yards between himself and Katherine's island
of ice, and, as the ground dropped away sharply in front of the
house, she knew he must not venture to attempt wading.
"Get a plank or Oily Dave's long table," she said, her manner more
dictatorial than before, for the unknown was so terribly slow in
his movements, and the water was still rising.
Mrs. Jenkin had commenced shouting again, but Katherine paid no
heed to her, for the unknown had appeared with a long, narrow
trestle table, which, resting one set of legs on the doorstep,
reached to the ice. But it was a perilous bridge, and Katherine
knew it; only there was no other way, so the peril had to be faced.
"Now run, only be ready to spring," she cried, trying to encourage
him.
"Easier said than done," he answered. "I can scarcely walk, much
less run."
"Then you must crawl; only please make haste. The ice is so rotten
that every minute I am fearing it will give way," she said. Then
dropping on her knees on the ice, regardless of the water which
washed over its surface, she tried to hold the edge of the table
steady for him to cross.
On he came, crawling slowly and painfully. He was so near to her
now that Katherine could hear his panting breath and see the look
of grim endurance on his drawn face. Mrs. Jenkin was shrieking in
a frantic manner, and then Katherine heard a shrill cry from Miles,
who was out of sight round the corner of the house. But the noise
conveyed no meaning to her. She had just stretched out her hand to
grasp that of the unknown, when there came a tremendous crash which
shot her off the ice and into the water. The shock which sent her
into the water, however, steadied the rickety bridge over which the
stranger was crawling by jamming the ice closer under it, and the
man, catching her as she took her plunge, held her fast, then
dragged her up beside him by sheer strength of arm.
[Illustration: The rescue of Jarvis Ferrars.]
"I am afraid you are rather wet," the stranger said in a tone of
rueful apology, keeping his clutch on Katherine as she struggled to
a kneeling posture.
Dashing the wet hair from her eyes, Katherine looked anxiously
round, fearing that their one way of escape had been cut off. A
huge fragment of ice had cannoned into her island and split off a
great portion. Plainly that was why Mrs. Jenkin had screamed so
shrilly, for she had seen what was coming and had tried to warn
her. There were other ice fragments about; huge blocks like
miniature bergs were bobbing and bowing to the racing current,
while they flashed back the rays of the sun with dazzling
brilliancy. But there was still time to get round the corner of
the house to the boat, if only they made haste; and, scrambling
from her knees to her feet, Katherine cried urgently: "Come, come,
we have just time; there is a boat round the corner of the house.
If we can get there before the next crash comes we are safe, if not
we may drown!"
"Save yourself. It is no use, I can't hurry; every step is
torture," the unknown said, with a groan, as she fairly dragged him
on to his feet, which were swathed in towels.
But she would not leave him. "Lean on me as heavily as you please.
I am tremendously strong, and I would try carrying you if you were
not so big," she said, with bustling cheerfulness, as, slipping her
arm round him, she hurried him forward.
What a walk it was over that cracking, splitting ice! Mrs. Jenkin
had begun screaming again; and although Katherine was wet through
with ice-cold water, she could feel the perspiration start as she
faced their chances of escape. An oncoming fragment at that moment
fouled with a similar piece swirling round from another direction,
and the moment thus gained proved their salvation. With quiet
obstinacy the stranger made Katherine enter the boat first; then,
as he stumbled in himself, the two fragments dashed into the
island, which smashed into a thousand pieces.