CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE FLOOD BEGINS TO DO ITS WORK.
"It is very sad that the hut of poor Peegwish has been carried away,"observed Miss Martha Macdonald, while presiding at the breakfast-table.
"Yes, it iss fery sad," responded Angus Macdonald, in a somewhatunamiable tone; "but it iss more sad that he will pe living in ourkitchen now, for that wuman Wildcat must pe there too, and it iss notcoot for Wildcat to live in the kitchen. She will pe too fond of thekitchen altogether, an' she will pe a greater thief than our own cawtie,for she is more omniferous an' not so easy to scare."
"But cook is as good as a weasel at watching cats," returned Martha,with a smile; "and it is reason we have to be thankful we have noheavier trouble, Angus, for many of the people up the river are drivenout of their houses."
"What you say iss true, Martha. Just pefore breakfast I met thatCherman crater, Winklemann, ridin' to the mission-house for help. Theice would pe scrapin' the end of his gardin, he was tellin' me, an' ifthe ruver would pe risin' another fut it would come into the house. Hesays the people are goin' off to the mountain like flocks of sheep,carryin' their coots and trivin' their cattle pefore them. It is ferypad times, whatever."
In the parlour of Willow Creek House the breakfast party enlarged on thesame theme.
"Things look serious," observed Samuel Ravenshaw, as he commenced histhird egg. "If the water rises at this rate much longer, not only thehouses that stand low on the river banks, but the whole settlement willbe in danger. It is said that four houses and a barn were swept awaylast night by the force of the ice somewhere above the mission premises,and that about sixty people slept in the church."
"It is well that our house stands high," said Mrs Ravenshaw. "Don'tyou think, Sam, that we might have the barn prepared, in case some ofour neighbours have to leave their houses?"
"The barn is ready, mother," said Elsie. "Father and I have beenarranging it all the morning with the aid of Peegwish, poor fellow, whohas been sent to us by Macdonald."
"Ay, and it's as trim as an hospital," added Mr Ravenshaw; "but I hopeit won't be wanted. The ice is now clearing away. When it is gone, theriver will be sure to fall.--Tell the boy to saddle the horse, Cora,"continued the old gentleman, attacking his fourth egg. "I shall ride upto see how Winklemann gets on. Lambert is helping him."
"Is Lambert's own house safe?" asked Elsie, with a glance at her sister.
"Safe enough just now," replied her father; "for it stands much higherand further back."
"Don't forget old Liz Rollin," said Elsie. "Her hut stands high, but ifthings get worse she will be in danger, and there is no one to lookafter her, you know."
"No fear of my forgetting the mother of the man who is helping to searchfor my dear boy," returned Ravenshaw, "besides, old Liz is not withoutfriends. Both Louis and Winklemann have promised to keep their eyes onher."
This reference to the mother of Michel Rollin turned the thoughts of theparty into a channel that was very familiar, for the lost Tony and hisbrother were seldom absent from their thoughts. Of late, however, theyhad ceased to talk much of the absent ones, because, as months flew bywithout any tidings, their anxieties increased, and as their fearsincreased they felt less inclined to talk hopefully. Long before thebreaking up of the ice Mr Ravenshaw had sent off an expedition at hisown cost in search of the searchers. It consisted of a trusty Indianand two half-breeds. They were to cross the plains towards theSaskatchewan district, and make inquiries among the fur-traders there;but nothing had yet been heard of them, and although the face and figureof Tony were never absent from the old man's memory, his name was notnow so frequently on his lips.
A sigh from Miss Trim revealed clearly the nature of _her_ thoughts.Poor Miss Trim! Her occupation was almost gone since Tony'sdisappearance. Besides losing the terrible and specific task ofteaching Tony his lessons, the amiable lady had lost the general duty ofkeeping Tony in order, putting right what Tony had put wrong, and,generally, undoing what Tony did. She also missed painfully thoselittle daily attentions to her hands and shins, which were renderednecessary in consequence of Tony's activity with his nails and the toesof his boots, to say nothing of his teeth. For many weeks past--itseemed to her years--Miss Trim had not bandaged a cut, or fomented abruise, or mollified a scratch with ointment. She absolutely felt asthough she had suffered bereavement.
The silence which had descended on the breakfast-table was not brokenuntil Mr Ravenshaw's horse was reported ready at the door. On his wayto the main road the old gentleman had to pass close to the summer-houseon the knoll so much coveted by Angus Macdonald. There he reined up afew minutes. The position commanded an extensive view, and the aspectof the river was sufficiently alarming. The ice, which by that time hadbroken up, was rolling and crashing along with inconceivable forcebefore the impetuous torrent. The water had risen to such a height thatthe lower lands were completely inundated. That it was still rising wasmade obvious by the fact that the rolling masses at the river-sides werebeing thrust higher and higher on obstructing points, carrying bushesand trees before them. Even while he gazed a lofty elm that grew on alow part of Angus Macdonald's property was overthrown as if it had beena mere twig, and swept away. Several young maple and oak trees furtherdown shared the same fate a few minutes later.
The house of Angus was full in view. It occupied a mound nearly, thoughnot quite, as high as the knoll on which he stood, and was still, likehis own dwelling, far above the reach of the raging flood. The spotwhere the hut of Peegwish had stood was by that time deep below thesurface of the ice-torrent.
Mr Ravenshaw did not remain long in contemplation. The weather, whichhad been stormy, became suddenly cold, and a blinding fall of sleetinduced him to button his greatcoat up to the chin as he hastened away.
Arriving at the mission station after a gallop of several miles, hefound a state of things which almost beggars description. Men, women,and children were hurrying to and fro, laden with their chief valuables,or driving carts loaded with household goods, which they deposited onthe mission premises for safety, preparatory to the desertion of houses,which was expected to take place on the morrow. Goods of everydescription were scattered about in wild confusion, for many of thepeople were half mad with alarm. The missionary, with his assistants,was doing his best to reduce the chaos to order.
Farther up the river Mr Ravenshaw encountered Herr Winklemann bearing ahuge arm-chair on his shoulders. "Mine hause is toomed!" he said.
"Doomed? I hope not. Where are you going with the chair?"
"To zee hause of old Liz."
Without waiting for a rejoinder the stout German hurried on, and wassoon lost to view among the bushes. Ravenshaw followed him shortlyafterwards, and found old Liz arranging and piling away the belongingsof Winklemann, who, after depositing the arm-chair by the side of thefire opposite the corner occupied by Daddy, had returned to his doomedhouse for more. Anxious to know in what condition his friend's housewas, the old gentleman took the road to it. The house of old Liz, as wehave said, stood high, and well back from the river. It had been made aplace of refuge by the nearest neighbours, and was not only filled butsurrounded by goods and furniture, as well as live stock. A dense massof willow bushes, by which the little hut was surrounded, completelyshut out the view all round, except backward, in the direction of theprairie, so that Ravenshaw did not come in sight of the spot where theflood had already commenced its work of destruction until he hadtraversed a footpath for nearly a quarter of a mile. Many wet and wearysettlers passed him, however, with their possessions on their backs, andhere and there groups of women and children, to all of whom he gave acheering word of hope and encouragement.
On clearing the bushes the full extent of desolation was presented toview. The river here had overflowed its banks, so that a large part ofthe country wore the aspect of a lake. Knolls and slight eminences,which in happier times had been scarcely observable, now stood boldlyout as conspicuous islets, while
many farmhouses were either partlysubmerged or stood on the margin of the rising waters which beat againstthem. There was a strong current in some places, elsewhere it was calm;but the river itself was clearly traceable by the turmoil of crashingice and surging water which marked its course. Men and women were seeneverywhere--in the water and out of it--loading carts or barrows withtheir property, and old people, with children, looked on and shivered,for the thermometer had fallen to five degrees below the freezing-pointof Fahrenheit's scale, as indicated by the thermometer at the parsonage.The sleet had ceased, and the wind had fallen, but dark masses ofclouds hurried athwart the lowering sky, and the dreary character of thescene was heightened by the poor cattle, which, being turned out oftheir warm places of shelter, stood on knolls or in the water and lowedpiteously.
One of the most conspicuous objects of the scene, from Ravenshaw's pointof view, was poor Winklemann's house--a small one which stood on a lowspot already surrounded by water. In front of it was Winklemannhimself, wading through the flood, without coat or hat, and carrying alarge bundle in his arms.
"What have you got there?" asked Ravenshaw, as German went staggeringpast.
"Mine moder," he replied, and hurried on.
Herr Winklemann had a mother--as old as the hills, according to his ownreport, and any one who beheld her feeble frame and wrinkled visagemight well have believed him. With tender regard for her welfare herstout son had refrained from removing or even alarming her until thelast moment, partly from fear that fright and the removal might do herserious injury, and partly from the hope that the flood had reached itshighest point; but when the danger to his dwelling became great heresolved to carry her to the hut of old Liz, and, as a preliminary step,had removed her old arm-chair, as we have seen, to be ready for herreception. On returning to the house, however, he found that a portionof the river bank above had unexpectedly given way, diverging the flooda little in that part, so that his dwelling was already a foot deep inwater. The old woman, however, lay safely on the bed where Winklemannhad placed her, and was either unconscious of, or indifferent to whatwas going on. She did indeed look a little surprised when her sonwrapped the blanket, on which she lay, completely round her, and tookher up in his arms as if she had been a little child, but the look ofsurprise melted into a humorous smile as he drew the last fold over herface. She clearly believed it to be one of her dear boy's littlepractical jokes, and submitted without a murmur.
Staggering through the flood with her, as we have said, Winklemanncarried her to the cottage of old Liz, who received her with tendercare, helped to place her in the big chair, and remembering Daddy'stendency to fall into the fire, tied her securely therein.
Meanwhile Winklemann ran back to his house, where he found Mr Ravenshawand Louis Lambert assisting several men to secure it on its foundationsby tying it with ropes to the nearest trees.
Joining these, he lent his powerful aid; but a power greater than hiswas at work, which could not be resisted. Not only did the water riseat an alarming rate and rush against the house with tremendous violence,but great cakes of ice bore down on it and struck it with such force asto make every timber tremble. Like all the other houses of thesettlement, it was built entirely of wood, and had no other foundationthan the levelled ground on which its framework stood.
When the water rose considerably above his knees, and ice-floesthreatened to sweep him away, Mr Ravenshaw thought it was time for anelderly gentleman to retire. The others continued for some time longersecuring the ropes and, with poles, turning aside the ice; but ere longthey also were driven to the higher ground, and compelled to stand idlyby and watch the work of destruction.
"You've got everything out, I fancy?" asked Lambert.
"Everyt'ing," replied Winklemann, with a deep sigh; "not'ing is left butzee hause."
"An' that won't be left long," observed Mr Ravenshaw, as a huge mass ofice went against its gable-end like a battering-ram.
It seemed to be the leader of a fresh battalion of the destroyer. Asuccession of ice-floes ran against the house and trees to which it wasfastened. An additional rush of water came down at the same time like awave of the sea. Every one saw that the approaching power wasirresistible. The wave, with its ice-laden crest, absolutely roared asit engulfed the bushes. Two goodly elms bowed their heads into theflood and snapped off. The ropes parted like packthread; the buildingslewed round, reeled for a moment with a drunken air, caught on ashallow spot, and hung there.
"Ach! mine goot old hause--farvell!" exclaimed Winklemann, in tones ofdeepest pathos.
The house bowed as if in recognition of the old familiar voice, slopedinto deeper water, gurgled out its latest breath, like a living thing,through its doors and windows, and sank beneath the wreck and ruin ofits old surroundings.
It was what men aptly term a clean sweep, but Winklemann's was not theonly house that succumbed to the flood on that occasion. Many besideshimself were rendered homeless. That night, (the 4th of May), thewaters rose four feet, and the settlers even on the higher grounds beganto think of flight.