If we could gather together the records of the mighty flood that lately
laid waste the great valleys of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, we
should have a wonderfully terrible yet glorious picture of peril,
suffering, and heroism. Scarcely a town but has its own sad tale of
bridges carried away, railroad tracks washed out, houses flooded, and
whole families forced to flee before the advancing waters, and in many
cases to flee in vain. In Arkansas and Mississippi the mighty "Father of
Waters" burst through the great levees which the labor of generations
has built up to confine him within bounds, and rushed over the low-lying
country beyond, carrying death and desolation with him. In Arkansas City
every house was flooded, and families retreated to the upper stories of
their homes. Many families whose houses were but of one story were
forced to abandon their homes, and trust themselves to small boats or
rafts hastily put together.
A sad fate befell one such family. They were a gentleman and his wife
and six children, four of whom were between the ages of six and
fourteen. The floods had risen around them until not even the roof
afforded a safe refuge. Their only hope was a small boat--a
"dug-out"--and in it they all embarked. But what chance had they in such
a tiny craft and in such a storm? The story is short. The boat capsized,
and the father saved his wife, only to realize that they two were left
childless.
In another place two brothers were alone in their father's house on the
bank of a creek. The water rose so rapidly that before they could
realize it the house was surrounded, and they saw no hope but to trust
themselves to the water, and endeavor to reach higher ground, where they
would be safe. They were brave, strong lads, but all too weak to battle
against the raging torrent into which they plunged. One of them was not
seen more. The other reached a haven of refuge in a tree, and had help
been at hand he might have lived to tell the fearful tale. But no aid
was near. It was twenty-four hours before he was found, and then cold
and exposure had done their work. The two brothers had perished within a
few hours of one another.
Many of you will remember the story of Rupert of Ware, which was told in
these pages last Halloween. It is such noble acts as that of his that
light up the gloomy narratives of great calamities. This story also has
its bright side. Doubtless it has many heroes. We can tell of only one.
It was at Paducah, a river-side town in Kentucky, that a young hero, a
boy named "Dad" Little, pushed off in his skiff to rescue some men in a
flat-bottomed boat, whom the fierce river was hurrying to destruction on
its angry tide. As soon as the boy reached them, they seized his boat
and scrambled into it, so that it capsized. Two of them were drowned,
and the others, with "Dad" Little, saved themselves by holding on to the
overturned boat. As the boat floated near the shore, the brave boy swam
to a tree, and climbed up into it, and was not rescued from his cruel
position until six hours later.