ANOTHER CALAMITY
The winter was a long and tedious one with much cold weather and ice.
Great drifts leveled the fields about Aldercliffe and Pine Lea,
shrouding the vast expanse of fields along the river in a glistening
cloak of ermine spangled with gold. The stream itself was buried so
deep beneath the snow that it was difficult not to believe it had
disappeared altogether. Freeman's Falls had never known a more severe
season and among the mill employees there was much illness and
depression. Prices were high, business slack, and the work ran light.
Nevertheless, the Fernalds refused to shorten the hours. There were no
night shifts on duty, to be sure, but the hum of the machinery that
ceased at twilight resumed its buzzing every morning and by its music
gladdened many a home where anxiety might otherwise have reigned.
That the factories were being operated at a loss rather than throw the
men out of employment Ted Turner could not help knowing for since he
had become a member of the Fernald household he had been included so
intimately in the family circle that it was unavoidable he should be
cognizant of much that went on there. As a result, an entirely new
aspect of manufacture came before him. Up to this time he had seen but
one side of the picture, that with which the working man was familiar.
But now the capitalist's side was turned toward him and on confronting
its many intricate phases he gained a very different conception of the
mill-owner's conundrums. He learned now for the first time who it was
that tided over business in its seasons of stress and advanced the
money that kept bread in the mouths of the workers. He sensed, too, as
he might never have done otherwise, who shouldered the burden of care
not alone during working hours but outside of them; he glimpsed
something of the struggles of competition; the problems of securing raw
material; the work concerning credits.
A very novel viewpoint it was to the boy, and as he regarded the
complicated web, he found himself wondering how much of all this tangle
was known to the men, and whether they were always fair to their
employer. He had frequently overheard conversations at his father's
when they had proclaimed how easy and care-free a life the rich led,
and while they had envied and criticized and slandered the Fernalds and
asserted that they did nothing but enjoy themselves, he had listened.
Ah, how far from the truth this estimate had been! He speculated, as he
reviewed the facts and vaguely rehearsed the capitalist's enigmas
whether, if shown the actual conditions, the townsfolk would have been
willing to exchange places with either of these men whose fortunes they
so greedily coveted.
For in very truth the Fernalds seemed to Ted persons to be pitied far
more than envied. Stripped of illusions, what was Mr. Lawrence Fernald
but an old man who had devoted himself to money-making until he had
rolled up a fortune so large that its management left him no leisure to
enjoy it? Eager to accumulate more and ever more wealth, he toiled and
worried quite as hard as he would have done had he had no money at all;
he often passed sleepless nights and could never be persuaded to take a
day away from his office. He slaved harder than any of those he paid to
work for him and he had none of their respite from care.
Mr. Clarence Fernald, being of a younger generation, had perhaps
learned greater wisdom. At any rate, he went away twice a year for
extended pleasure trips. Possibly the fact that his father had
degenerated into a mere money-making machine was ever before him,
serving as a warning against a similar fate. However that may have
been, he did break resolutely away from business at intervals, or tried
to. Nevertheless, he never could contrive to be wholly free. Telegrams
pursued him wherever he went; his secretary often went in search of
him; and many a time, like a defeated runaway whose escape is cut
short, he was compelled to abandon his holiday and return to the mills,
there to straighten out some unlooked-for complication. Day and night
the responsibilities of his position, the welfare of the hundreds of
persons dependent on him, weighed down his shoulders. And even when he
was at home in the bosom of his family, there was Laurie, his son, his
idol, who could probably never be well! What man in all Freeman's Falls
could have envied him if acquainted with all the conditions of his
life?
This and many another such reflection engrossed Ted, causing him to
wonder whether there was not in the divine plan a certain element of
equalization.
In the meantime, his lessons with Laurie and Mr. Hazen went steadily
and delightfully on. How much more could be accomplished with a tutor
who devoted all his time simply to two pupils! And how much greater
pleasure one derived from studying under these intimate circumstances!
In every way the arrangement was ideal. Thus the winter passed with its
balancing factors of work and play. The friendship between the two boys
strengthened daily and in a similar proportion Ted's affection for the
entire Fernald family increased.
It was when the first thaw made its appearance late in March that
trouble came. Laurie was stricken with measles, and because of the
contagion, Ted's little shack near the river was hastily equipped for
occupancy, and the lad was transferred there.
"I can't have two boys sick," declared Mr. Clarence Fernald, "and as
you have not been exposed to the disease there is no sense in our
thrusting you into its midst. Plenty of wood will keep your fireplace
blazing and as the weather is comparatively mild I fancy you can
contrive to be comfortable. We will connect the telephone so you won't
be lonely and so you can talk with Laurie every day. The doctor says he
will soon be well again and after the house has been fumigated you can
come back to Pine Lea."
Accordingly, Ted was once more ensconced in the little hut and how good
it seemed to be again in that familiar haunt only he realized. Before
the first day was over, he felt as if he had never been away. Pine Lea
might boast its conservatories, its sun parlors, its tiled baths, its
luxuries of every sort; they all faded into nothingness beside the
freedom and peace of the tiny shack at the river's margin.
Meanwhile, with the gradual approach of spring, the sun mounted higher
and the great snow drifts settled and began to disappear. Already the
ice in the stream was breaking up and the turbid yellow waters went
rushing along, carrying with them whirling blocks of snow. As the
torrent swept past, it flooded the meadows and piled up against the dam
opposite the factories great frozen, jagged masses of ice which ground
and crashed against one another, so that the sounds could be distinctly
heard within the mills. At some points these miniature icebergs blocked
the falls and held the waters in check until, instead of cascading over
the dam, they spread inland, inundating the shores. The float before
Ted's door was covered and at night, when all was still and his windows
open, he could hear the roaring of the stream, and the impact of the
bumping ice as it sped along. Daily, as the snows on the far distant
hillsides near the river's source melted, the flood increased and
poured down in an ever rising tide its seething waters.
Yet notwithstanding the fact that each day saw the stream higher, no
one experienced any actual anxiety from the conditions, although
everybody granted they were abnormal. Of course, there was more ice in
the river than there had been for many years. Even Grandfather Fernald,
who had lived in the vicinity for close on to half a century, could not
recall ever having witnessed such a spring freshet; nor did he deny
that the weight of ice and water against the dam must be tremendous.
However, the structure was strong and there was no question of its
ability to hold, even though this chaos of grinding ice-cakes boomed
against it with defiant reverberation.
In spite of the conditions, Ted felt no nervousness about remaining by
himself in the shack and perhaps every premonition of evil might have
escaped him had he not been awakened one morning very early by a ripple
of lapping water that seemed near at hand. Sleepily he opened his eyes
and looked about him. The floor of the hut was wet and through the
crack beneath the door a thread of muddy water was steadily seeping. In
an instant he was on his feet and as he stood looking about him in
bewilderment he heard the roar of the river and detected in the sound a
threatening intonation that had not been there on the previous day. He
hurried to the window and stared out into the grayness of the dawn. The
scene that confronted him chilled his blood. The river had risen
unbelievably during the night. Not only were the little bushes along
the shore entirely submerged but many of the pines standing upon higher
ground were also under water.
As he threw on his clothes, he tried to decide whether there was
anything he ought to do. Would it be well to call up the Fernalds, or
telephone to the mills, or to the village, and give warning of the
conditions? It was barely four o'clock and the first streaks of light
were but just appearing. Nevertheless, there must be persons who were
awake and as alert as he to the transformation the darkness had
wrought. Moreover, perhaps there was no actual danger, and should this
prove to be the case, how absurd he would feel to arouse people at
daybreak for a mere nothing. It was while he paused there indecisively
that a sight met his eye which spurred hesitancy to immediate action.
Around the bend far up the stream came sweeping a tangle of
wreckage--trees, and brush, and floating timber--and swirling along in
its wake was a small lean-to which he recognized as one that had stood
on the bank of the river at Melton, the village located five miles
above Freeman's Falls. If the water were high enough to carry away this
building, it must indeed have risen to a menacing height and there was
not a moment to be lost.
He rushed to the telephone and called up Mr. Clarence Fernald who
replied to his summons in irritable, half-dazed fashion.
"Is there any way of lifting the water gates at the mills?" asked Ted
breathlessly. "The river has risen so high that it is sweeping away
trees and even some of the smaller houses from the Melton shore. If the
debris piles up against the dam, the pressure may be more than the
thing can stand. Besides, the water will spread and flood both
Aldercliffe and Pine Lea. I thought I'd better tell you."
Mr. Fernald was not dazed now; he was broad awake.
"Where are you?" inquired he sharply.
"At the shack, sir. The water is ankle deep."
"Don't stay there another moment. It is not safe. At any instant the
whole hut may be carried away. Gather your traps together and call
Wharton or Stevens--or both of them--to come and help you take them up
to Aldercliffe. I'll attend to notifying the mills. You've done us a
good turn, my boy."
During the next hour Ted himself was too busy to appreciate the hectic
rush of events that he had set moving, or realize the feverish energy
with which the Fernalds and their employees worked to avert a tragedy
which, but for his warning, might have been a very terrible one. The
mills were reached by wire and the sluices at the sides of the central
dam immediately lifted to make way for the torrent of snow, ice,
wreckage, and water. In what a fierce and maddened chaos it surged over
the falls and dashed into the chasm beneath! All day the mighty current
boiled and seethed, overflowing the outlying fields with its yellow
flood. Nevertheless, the great brick factories that bordered the stream
stood firm and so did the residences at Aldercliffe and Pine Lea, both
of which were fortunately situated on high ground.
Ted had not made his escape from his little camp a moment too soon, for
while he stood looking out on the freshet from one of the attic windows
at Pine Lea, he shivered to behold his little hut bob past him amid the
rushing waters and drift into an eddy on the opposite shore along with
a mass of uprooted pines.
A sob burst from him.
"It's gone, Mr. Hazen--our little house!" he murmured brokenly to the
young tutor who was standing beside him. "We never shall see it again."
"You mustn't take it so to heart, Ted," the teacher answered, laying
his hand sympathetically on the lad's shoulder. "Suppose you had been
in it and borne away to almost certain death. That would have been a
calamity indeed. What is an empty boathouse when we consider how many
people are to suffer actual financial loss and perhaps forfeit
everything they have, as a result of this tragedy. The villagers who
live along the river will lose practically everything they own--boats,
poultry, barns; and many of them both houses and furniture. We all
loved the shack; but it is not as if its destruction left you with no
other roof above your head. You can stay at Aldercliffe, Pine Lea, or
join your family at Freeman's Falls. Three shelters are open to you.
But these poor souls in the town----"
"I had not thought about the villagers," blushed Ted.
"The Fernalds have been in the settlement since dawn and along with
every man they could summon have been working to save life and
property. If I had not had to stay here with Laurie, I should have gone
to help, too."
Ted hung his head.
"I'm ashamed to have been so selfish," said he. "Instead of thinking
only of myself, I ought to have been lending a hand to aid somebody
else. It was rotten of me. Why can't I go down to the village now?
There must be things I can do. Certainly I'm no use here."
"No, there is nothing to be done here," the tutor agreed. "If you could
stay with Laurie and calm him down there would be some sense in your
remaining; but as it is, I don't see why you shouldn't go along to the
town and fill in wherever you can. I fancy there will be plenty to do.
The Fernalds, Wharton, Stevens, and the rest of the men are moving the
families who lived along the water front out of their houses and into
others. All our trucks and cars are busy at the job."
"I know I could help," cried Ted eagerly, his foot on the top step of
the staircase.
"I am sure you can," Mr. Hazen replied. "Already by your timely warning
you have helped more than you will ever know. I tremble to think what
might have happened if you had not awakened Mr. Clarence just when you
did. Had the dam at the mills gone down, the whole town would have been
devastated. Mr. Fernald told me so himself."
"I'm mighty glad if I----"
"So you see you have been far from selfish," continued the tutor, in a
cheery tone. "As for the shack, it can be rebuilt, so I should not
mourn about that."
"I guess Mr. Fernald is glad now that he has his plans ready for his
model village."
"Yes, he is. He said right away that it was providential. The snow will
disappear after this thaw and as soon as the earth dries up enough to
admit of building, the workmen will begin to break ground for the new
settlement. The prospect of other and better houses than the old ones
will encourage many of the mill people who have had their dwellings
ruined to-day and in consequence been forced to move into temporary
quarters where they are crowded and uncomfortable. We can all endure
inconvenience when we know it is not to last indefinitely. Mr. Fernald
told me over the telephone that the promise of new houses by summer or
fall at the latest was buoying up the courage of all those who had
suffered from this terrible disaster. He is going to grant special
privileges to every family that has met with loss. They are to be given
the first houses that are finished."
"I do hope another freshet like this one won't sweep away the new
village," reflected Ted.
"Oh, we shall probably never again be treated to an excitement similar
to this one," smiled Mr. Hazen reassuringly. "Didn't you hear them say
that it was the bursting of the Melton reservoir which was largely
responsible for this catastrophe? Mr. Fernald declared all along that
this was no ordinary freshet. He has seen the river every spring for
nearly forty years and watched it through all its annual thaws; and
although it has often been high, it has never been a danger to the
community. He told me over the telephone about the reservoir bursting.
He had just got the news. It seems the reservoir above Melton was an
old one which the authorities have realized for some time must be
rebuilt. They let it go one year too long. With the weight of water,
snow, and ice, it could not bear the pressure put upon it and
collapsed. I'm afraid it has been a severe lesson to the officials of
the place for the chance they took has caused terrible damage."
"Were people killed?" asked Ted in an awed whisper.
"We have heard so--two or three who were trapped asleep in their
houses. As for the town, practically all the buildings that fronted the
river were destroyed. Of course, as yet we have not been able to get
very satisfactory details, for most of the wires were down and
communication was pretty well cut off. I suppose that is why they did
not notify us of our peril. People were probably too busy with their
own affairs, too intent on saving their own lives and possessions to
think of anything else. Then, too, the thing came suddenly. If there
hadn't been somebody awake here, I don't know where we should have
been. I don't see how you happened to be astir so early."
"Nor I," returned Ted modestly. "I think it must have been the sound of
the water coming in that woke me. I just happened to hear it."
"Well, it was an almighty fortunate happen--that is all I can say,"
asserted Mr. Hazen, as the boy sped down the stairs.