As soon as they were sure Mrs. Holloway had quite recovered from her
fainting spell, Ruth Fielding and Helen wished to get as far away from
the fire as possible.
There was nothing they could do, of course, to help put out the blaze.
Nor did it seem possible for the men who had come from the ballroom to
do anything towards extinguishing the fire. The flames were spreading
madly through the interior of the cottage; but they had not as yet burst
through the walls or the roof.
The cottage had not been torn from its foundation, although it had been
sadly shaken. If it fell it might not endanger the hotel, for it was
plain that what little cant had been given to the burning house was away
from the larger building, not toward it.
Ruth and Helen had wet their feet already; but they did not care to slop
through the puddle on the porch again, so made their way to the ballroom
through the main part of the house. There was less noise among the
frightened women and girls now than before; but they were huddled into
groups, some crying with fear of they did not know what!
"Oh! is the house tumbling down?" asked one frightened woman of Ruth.
"Must we drown?"
"Not unless we want to, I am sure, madam," said the girl of the Red
Mill, cheerfully.
"But isn't the house afire?" cried another.
"It isn't this house, but another, that is burning," the Northern girl
said, with continued placidity.
"Oh, Ruth! there's Nettie!" exclaimed Helen, and drew her away.
In a corner was Nettie Parsons, crouched upon a stool, and the girls
expected to find her in tears. But the little serving maid, Norma, had
run to her and was now kneeling on the floor with her face hidden in
Nettie's lap.
"The po' foolish creature," sighed Nettie, when the chums reached her, a
soothing hand upon the shaking black girl's head. "She is just about out
of her head, she's so scared. I tell her that the Good Lo'd won't let
harm come to us; but she just can't help bein' scared."
Nettie's drawl made Helen laugh. But Ruth was proud of her. The Southern
girl had forgotten to be afraid herself while she comforted her little
servant.
There was nothing one could do but speak a comforting word now and then.
Ruth was glad that Helen took the matter so cheerfully. For, really, as
the girl of the Red Mill saw it, there was not yet any reason for being
particularly worried.
"In time of peace prepare for war, however," she said to the other
girls. "We _may_ have to leave the hotel in a hurry. Let us go upstairs
to the rooms we were to occupy, and pack our bags again, and bring them
down here with us. Then if they say we must leave, we shall be ready."
"But how can we leave?" demanded Helen. "By boat?"
"Maybe. Goodness! if we only had a boat we could get back across the
river and walk to the Big House."
"Oh! I wish we were there now," murmured Nettie.
"I wish you had your wish!" exclaimed Helen. "But we'll do as Ruth says.
Maybe we'll get a chance to leave the place."
For Helen had been quite as much disturbed by the appearance of Miss
Miggs as Ruth had been. She, too, saw that the woman's accusation had
made an impression upon the mind of her cousin, Mrs. Holloway.
"I hope we get out before there is trouble over that horrid woman's
ticket. Who would have expected to meet her here?" said Helen to her
chum.
"No more than we expected to meet Curly at Merredith," Ruth returned.
They went upstairs, Norma, the little maid, keeping close to them. Helen
declared the negress was so scared that she was gray in the face.
They heard a group of men talking on the stairs. They were discussing
the pros and cons of the situation. Nobody seemed to have any idea as to
what should be done. A more helpless lot of people Ruth Fielding thought
she had never seen before.
But after all, the girls from the North did not understand the situation
exactly. There was nothing one could do to stop the rising flood. There
were no means of transporting the people from the island to the higher
land across the narrow creek. And all around the hotel, save at the
back, the water was shoulder deep.
The rough current and the floating debris made venturing into the water
a dangerous thing, as well. The fire next door could not be put out; so
there seemed nothing to do but to wait for what might happen.
This policy of waiting for what might turn up did not suit Ruth
Fielding, of course. But there was nothing she could do just then to
change matters for the better. The suggestion she had made about packing
the bags was more to give her friends something to do, and so take their
minds off the peril they were in, than aught else.
There were other people on the second floor, and as the girls went into
their rooms they heard somebody talking loudly at the other end of the
hall. At the moment they paid no attention to this excited female voice.
Ruth set the example of immediately returning her few possessions to her
bag and preparing to leave the room at once. Her chum was ready almost
as soon; but they had to help Nettie and the maid. The former did not
know what to do, and the frightened Norma was perfectly useless.
"I declare! I won't take this useless child with me anywhere again,"
said Nettie. "Goodness me!" she continued, pettishly, to the shaking
maid, "have you stolen the silver spoons that your conscience troubles
you so?"
But nothing could make Norma look upon the situation less seriously.
When the girls came out of the door into the hall, bags in hand, Ruth
was first. Immediately the high, querulous voice broke upon their ears
again, and now the girls from the North recognized it.
"There! they've been in one of your rooms!" cried the sharp voice of
Miss Miggs. "You'd better go and search 'em and see what they've stolen
now."
"Hush, Martha!" exclaimed Mrs. Holloway.
Ruth turned with flaming cheeks and angry eyes. Her temper at last had
got the better of her discretion.
"I believe you are the meanest woman whom I ever saw!" she exclaimed,
much to Helen's delight. "Don't you _dare_ say Helen and I touched your
railroad ticket. I--I wish there were some means of punishing you for
accusing us the way you do. I don't blame your scholars for treating you
meanly--if they did. I don't see how you could expect them to do
otherwise. Nobody could love such a person as you are, I do believe."
"Three rousing cheers!" gasped Helen under her breath, while Nettie
Parsons looked on in open-mouthed amazement.
"There! you hear how the minx dares talk to me," cried Miss Miggs,
appealing to the ladies about her.
Besides Mrs. Holloway, there were three or four others. Miss Miggs was
dressed now and looked more presentable than she had when endeavoring to
escape from the hotel in her raincoat and slippers.
"I--I don't understand it at all," confessed the hotel proprietor's wife.
"Surely, my cousin would not accuse these girls without some reason. She
is from the North, too, and must understand them better than _we_ do."
No comment could have been more disastrous to the peace of mind of Ruth
and Helen. The latter uttered a cry of anger and Ruth could scarcely
keep back the tears.
"Perhaps we had better look out for our possessions," said one of the
other ladies, doubtfully.
"Yes. They _did_ just come out of one of these rooms," said another.
"Oh! these are the rooms they were to occupy," cried Mrs. Holloway, all
in a flutter. "I--I do not think they would do anything----"
"Say!" gasped Nettie, at last finding voice. "I want to know what
yo'-all mean? Yo' can't be speaking of my friends?"
"Who is _this_ girl, I'd like to know!" exclaimed Miss Miggs. "One just
like them, no doubt."
"Oh, Martha! Mrs. Parsons' niece," gasped Mrs. Holloway. "Mrs. Parsons
will never forgive me."
"Gracious heavens!" gasped one of the other women. "You don't mean to
say that these are the girls from Merredith?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Holloway. "Of course, nobody believes that Miss Parsons
would do any such thing; but these other girls are probably merely
school acquaintances----"
"I should like to know," said Nettie, with sudden firmness, "just what
you mean--all of you? What have Ruth and Helen done?"
"They stole my railroad ticket on the boat coming down from New York,"
declared Miss Martha Miggs.
"That is not so!" said Nettie, quickly. "Under no circumstances would I
believe it. It is impossible."
"Do you say that my cousin does not tell the truth?" asked Mrs.
Holloway, stiffly, while Miss Miggs herself could only stammer angry
words.
"Absolutely," declared Nettie, her naturally pale cheeks glowing. "I am
amazed at you, Mrs. Holloway. I know Aunt Rachel will be offended."
"But my own cousin tells me so, and----"
"I do not care who tells you such a ridiculous story," Nettie
interrupted, and Ruth and Helen were surprised to see how dignified and
assertive their usually timid friend could be when she was really
aroused.
"Ruth Fielding and Helen Cameron are above such things. They are,
besides, guests at Merredith, and we were put in your care, Mrs.
Holloway, and when you insult them you insult my aunt. Oh! if Aunt
Rachel were only here, she could talk to you," concluded Nettie, shaking
all over she was so angry. "_And she would, too!_"
CHAPTER XX--CURLY PLAYS AN HEROIC PART
Mrs. Rachel Parsons' name was one "to conjure with," as the saying goes.
Ruth and Helen had marked that fact before. Not alone in the vicinity of
Merredith plantation, but in the cities and towns through which the
visitors had come in reaching the cotton farm, they had observed how
impressive her name seemed.
Several of the ladies who had been listening avidly to Miss Miggs'
declaration that she had been robbed, now hastened to disclaim any
intention of offending Mrs. Parsons' niece and her friends.
But the angry Nettie was not so easily pacified. She was actually in
tears, it was true, but, as Helen said, "as brave as a little lioness!"
In the cause of her school friends she could well hold her own with
these scandal-mongers.
"I am surprised that anybody knowing my aunt should believe for a moment
such a ridiculous tale as this woman utters," Nettie said, flashing an
indignant glance about the group.
"It is self-evident that if Aunt Rachel invites anybody to her home,
that the person's character is above reproach. That is all _I_ can say.
But I know very well that she will say something far more serious when
she hears of this.
"Come, Ruthie and Helen. Let us go downstairs. I am sorry I cannot take
you immediately home. But be sure that, once we are away from
Holloway's, we shall never come here again."
"Oh, Miss Nettie!" gasped the hotel keeper's wife. "I did not mean----"
"You will have to discuss that point with Aunt Rachel," said Nettie,
firmly, yet still wiping her eyes. "I only know that I will take Ruthie
and Helen nowhere again to be insulted. As for that woman," she flashed,
as a Parthian shot at Miss Miggs, "I think she must be crazy!"
The girls descended the stairs. At the foot Nettie put her arms about
Ruth's neck and then about Helen's, and kissed them both. She was not
naturally given to such displays of affection; but she was greatly
moved.
"Oh, my dears!" she cried. "I would not have had this happen for
anything! It is terrible that you should be so insulted--and among our
own people. Aunt Rachel will be perfectly wild!"
"Don't tell her, then," urged Ruth, quickly. "That woman will not be
allowed to say anything more, it is likely; so let it blow over."
"It cannot blow over. Not only did she insult you, and her cousin
allowed her to do so, but their attitude insulted Aunt Rachel. Why!
there is not a person in this hotel the equal of Aunt Rachel. The
Merrediths are the best known family in the whole county. How Mrs.
Holloway _dared_----"
"There, there!" said Ruth, soothingly. "Let it go. Neither Helen nor I
are killed."
"But your reputations might well be," Nettie said quickly.
"Nobody knows us much here----"
"But they know Aunt Rachel. And I assure you they will hear about this
matter in a way they won't like. The Holloways especially. She'd better
send that crazy woman packing back to the North."
At that moment a shout arose from the front veranda. The girls, followed
by Norma screaming in renewed fright, ran to the door. The water was
still over the flooring of the veranda, but it had not advanced into the
house.
The group of excited men on the porch were pointing off into the river.
Out there it was very dark; but there was a light moving on the face of
the troubled waters.
"A boat is coming!" explained somebody to the girls. "That's a lantern
in it. A boat from across the river."
"A steamboat?" cried Helen.
"Oh, no; a steamboat would not venture to-night--if at all. And there is
none near by. It's a bateau of some kind."
"Bet it's the old bateau from the cotton warehouse across there," said
another of the men. "Jimson is trying to reach us."
"And what can he do when he gets here?" asked a third. "That burning
house is bound to fall this way. Then we'll have to fight fire for
sure!"
"Well, Holloway has a bucket brigade all ready," said the first speaker.
"With all this water around, it's too bad if we can't put a fire out."
The fire was illuminating all the vicinity now, for the flames had burst
through the roof. The whole of one end of the cottage was in a blaze,
and the wall of the hotel nearest to it was blistering in the heat.
The hotel proprietor stood there with his helpers watching the blaze.
But the girls watched the approaching boat, its situation revealed by
the bobbing lantern.
"If that is Mr. Jimson," said Helen, "I hope he can take us back across
the river."
"And he shall if it's safe," Nettie said, with confidence. "But my! the
water's rough."
"Oh, Miss Nettie! Miss Nettie!" groaned Norma. "Yo' ain' gwine t' vencha
on dat awful ribber, is yo'?"
"Why not, you ridiculous creature?" demanded her mistress. "If you are
afraid to stay here, and afraid to go in the boat, what _will_ you do?"
"Wait till it dries up!" wailed the darkey maid. "Den we kin walk home,
dry-shod--ya-as'm!"
"Wait for the river to dry up, and all?" chuckled Helen.
"That's what she wants," said Nettie. "I never saw such a foolish girl."
The bobbing lantern came nearer. Just as it reached the edge of the
submerged island, there arose a shout from the men aboard of her. Then
sounded a mighty crash.
"Hol' on, boys! hol' on!" arose the voice of Mr. Jimson. "Don't lose yo'
grip! _Pull!_"
But the negroes could not pull the water-logged boat. She had struck a
snag which ripped a hole in her bottom, and had been rammed by a log at
the same time. The bateau was a wreck in a few seconds.
The six members of the crew, including the boss and Curly Smith, leaped
overboard as the bateau sank. They had brought the boat so far, after a
terrific fight with the current, only to sink her not twenty yards from
the front steps of the hotel!
"Throw us a line--or a life-buoy!" yelled Jimson. "This yere river is
tearin' at us like a pack o' wolves. Ain't yo' folks up there got no
heart?"
One of the negroes uttered a wild yell and went whirling away down
stream, clinging to a timber that floated by. Two others managed to
climb into the low branches of a tree.
But Jimson, the fourth negro, and Curly Smith struck out for the hotel.
After all, Curly was the best swimmer. Jimson would have been carried
past the end of the hotel and down the current, had not the Northern boy
caught him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the steps.
There he left the panting boss and plunged in again to bring the negro
to the surface. This fellow could not swim much, and was badly
frightened. The instant he felt Curly grab him, he turned to wind his
arms about the boy.
The lights burning on the hotel porch showed all this to the girls. Ruth
and Helen, already wet half-way to their knees, had ventured out on the
porch again in their excitement. Ruth screamed when she saw the danger
Curly was in.
The boy had helped save Mr. Jimson; but the negro and he were being
swept right past the hotel porch. They must both sink and be drowned if
somebody did not help them--and no man was at hand.
"Take my hand, Helen!" commanded Ruth. "Maybe I can reach them. Scream
for help--do!" and she leaned out from the end of the veranda, while her
chum clung tightly to her left wrist.
The boy and the negro came near. The water eddied about the porch-end
and held them in its grasp for a moment.
It was then that Ruth stooped lower and secured a grip upon the black
man's sleeve. She held on grimly while her chum shrieked for help.
Jimson came staggering along to their aid.
"Hold on t' him, Miss Ruth!" he cried. "We'll git him!"
But if it had depended upon the spent warehouse boss to rescue the boy
and his burden, they would never have been saved. Two of the men at the
other end of the porch finally heard Helen and Nettie and came to help.
"Haul that negro in," said one, laughing. "Is he worth saving, Jimson?"
"I 'spect so," gasped the boss of the cotton warehouse. "But I know well
that that white boy is. My old woman sho' wouldn't ha' seen _me_ ag'in
if it hadn't been fo' Curly. I was jes' about all in."
So was Curly, as the girls could see. When the boy was dragged out upon
the porch floor, and lay on his back in the shallow water, he could
neither move nor speak. The men tried to raise him to his feet, but his
left leg doubled under him.
It was Ruth who discovered what was the matter. "Bring him inside. Lay
him on a couch. Don't you see that the poor boy has broken his leg?" she
demanded.