People who enjoy all the great improvements of the age have not the least
idea of the inconvenience and the hardships people endured previous to
the discoveries of the telegraph and the telephone. As an illustration
of the conditions prevailing previous to the above discoveries, I will
relate the story of Joe Bailey’s dangerous trip down the river on an ice
floe, and his brother’s exciting ride on horse back from Jersey Shore,
Pa., to Northumberland, a distance of fifty miles, to alarm the people
and bring them to the rescue of his brother Joe.
The Baileys owned the island just southeast of Jersey Shore, which is
still in the hands of the descendants of the Bailey family—Mrs. John S.
Tomb, and Mrs. Carrothers. I do not know whether McGinnis, the historian
of the West Branch Valley, mentioned this famous ride or not. I got the
story from Captain William H. Crawford, who died several years ago at the
age of seventy-seven years, and who was a boy at the time Joe Bailey went
adrift on the ice floe. Crawford then lived with his father, Hon. George
Crawford, two miles west of Jersey Shore.
It was in the spring, when a sudden rise in the river threatened to
take the ice out of the streams. The Baileys had a small flat boat in
the river which they plied between the island and Jersey Shore. It was
still in the river when the early spring freshet came, and was in danger
of being carried away with the heavy floe of ice. To save the flat, Joe
Bailey and another man took a team of oxen and went to haul the flat out
of the stream. While Joe was on the flat fastening a chain to a ring the
ice suddenly broke up and crowded down upon the place, tearing the boat
from the landing and sending the young man adrift on the ice.
His brother on the Jersey Shore side of the river stood horrified for
a moment, and then fully realizing the importance of imminent action,
borrowed a fast running horse and set out for Williamsport on a dead
run. It was a race for life. Night was setting in and the weather turned
suddenly bitter cold.
With horse and rider panting for breath, young Bailey reached
Williamsport and alarmed the town. Many rushed to the bridge, but none
were prepared to render service to the man going adrift on the ice. They
could hear him shouting for assistance, but the flood bore him down upon
them before they could secure a rope to drop down for Bailey to lay hold
of and be lifted to the bridge.
Knowing that rescue was impossible, one thoughtful man removed his
overcoat and dropped it down into the rushing boat, and received the
freezing man’s grateful thanks.
Nothing daunted, young Bailey secured a fresh horse and struck out for
Muncy, where another bridge spanned the Susquehanna river.
Again young Bailey reached the long bridge too late to secure help.
Joe passed under the bridge before the men could lower a rope. But the
undaunted brother would not give Joe up to the horrible death that
awaited him somewhere down the roaring, rushing, grinding gorge. No human
aid could reach him until he came to the bridge at Northumberland, so
the brother secured a third horse and dashed away to the rescue again.
No other ride through darkness and danger equalled that ride, except the
ride of Paul Revere. And poor Joe’s awful ride in the rushing ice gorge
could not be surpassed for danger and loneliness by any of the dangerous
rides noted by historians and sung of by the poets.
During the ice floe in the West Branch of the Susquehanna river the
current is extremely rapid and the brother dashing away on horseback knew
full well that no time must be lost if he reached the Northumberland
bridge in time to save Joe. This was the last chance. No other bridge
could be reached on horseback in time for a rescue. There was no railroad
then, no telegraph line, and the most rapid means of communication was by
horseback.
Can you blame young Bailey then for urging the horse to the utmost speed?
When the animal slowed up young Bailey laid on the lash and urged it to
even faster speed. He and the horse could alone rescue the frantic man
adrift on the ice floe. All those who knew of Joe Bailey’s peril were
left far behind. The people of Northumberland would know nothing until
young Bailey arrived. On and on he dashed, arriving at the town exhausted
and sore from his long, hard ride.
The town was alarmed, and a score of boatmen and old river men rushed to
the bridge, but not forgetting long ropes with nooses prepared at the
end. Thank God he had not passed yet! They could hear him calling for
help far up the stream. When near the bridge they called to him to be
ready and slip the nose of the rope under his arms. Quick! Joe Bailey
is safely tied in the loop! Up with the poor fellow! Safe! Thank God!
The two brothers clasp each other in their strong arms, the one softly
whispering: “Joe! Oh, Joe!”