CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE WAVES STILL RISE, AND MISS TRIM COMES TO GRIEF.
On the night of the 15th the gale broke out again with redoubled fury,and the stage at the mission station was shaken so much by the violenceof the waves and wind that fears were entertained of its stability,despite its great strength. The water rose six inches during thatnight, and when the vast extent of the floods is taken into account,this rise was prodigious. The current was also so strong that it wasfeared the church itself, with the property and people in its loft,would be swept away.
Towards daylight a boat was seen approaching. It turned out to be thatof Mr Ravenshaw, containing himself and Lambert, with a crew fromWillow Creek. The house of the old gentleman had, he said, much waterin the lower rooms, so that he had been driven to its upper floor; buthe felt sure of its strength, having himself helped to lay itsfoundations. Knowing the danger of those who dwelt in the parsonage, hehad come to offer an asylum to as many as his house would hold. But MrCockran declined to quit his post. The gale was by that time abating,the cheering daylight increasing; and as he had a large boat of his ownmoored to a neighbouring post, he preferred to remain where he was. MrRavenshaw therefore ordered Louis to hoist the sail, and bidding adieuto the clerical party, returned to Willow Creek.
Of all the household there, Miss Trim had viewed the approach of thewater with the greatest anxiety and Mrs Ravenshaw with the greatestphilosophy. Miss Trim, being an early riser, was the first to observethe enemy on the morning of its entrance. She came down-stairs andfound the water entering the house quietly by the sides, oozing fromunder the boards and secretly creeping along till it covered the floors.She rushed up-stairs to alarm Mr Ravenshaw, and met that active oldgentleman coming down. He set to work at once to rescue his goods onthe lower floor, while Miss Trim, in great excitement, went and rousedthe girls, who leaped up at once. Then she went to Mrs Ravenshaw'sroom.
"Oh, Mrs Ravenshaw, get up quick; the flood is coming in at last--overthe floors--through the chinks--up the seams--everywhere--do--do get up!We shall all be--"
She stopped. A long-drawn sigh and a gentle "hush!" was all the replyvouchsafed by Mrs Ravenshaw.
A quarter of an hour later Miss Trim came nervously back. "It's_rushing_ in now like anything! Oh, _do_ get up! We may have to fly!The boards of the floor have been forced up, and they've had to take thedoor off its hinges--"
She stopped again. Mrs Ravenshaw, with placid face and closed eyes,had replied with another gentle "hush-sh!"
Descending once more, Miss Trim was met by a sudden stream, which hadburst in the back door. Rushing again into the old lady's bedroom, shecried vehemently, "Woman! _won't_ you get up?"
"Why should I?" asked the other in a sleepy tone. "Isn't Samuel lookingafter it?"
"Of course he is, but--"
"Well, well," interrupted the old lady, a little testily, "if _he's_there it's all right. _He_ knows what to do, I don't. Neither do you,Miss Trim; so pray go away and let me sleep."
Poor Miss Trim retired discomfited. Afterwards when the family weredriven to the upper storey of the dwelling she learned to regard thingswith something of Mrs Ravenshaw's philosophy.
One morning at daylight there was a calm so profound that the sleepersat Willow Creek were not awakened until the sun rose in a cloudless skyand glittered over the new-born sea with ineffable splendour. It was astrange and sad though beautiful sight. Where these waters lay like asheet of glass, spreading out to the scarce visible horizon, thegrass-waves of the prairie had rolled in days gone by. There were stillsome knolls visible, some tops of trees and bushes, like islets on thesea, and one or two square masses of drift-wood floating slowly alongwith the now imperceptible current, like boats under full sail. Hereand there could be seen several wooden houses and barns, some of whichhad come down from the upper parts of the settlement, like the hut ofold Liz, and were stranded awkwardly on shoals, while others were stilldrifting over the watery waste.
All this was clearly visible from the windows of the upper room, inwhich slept the sisters Elsie and Cora, and presented itself to theformer when she awoke like a vision of fairyland. Unable to believe hereyes, she rubbed them with her pretty little knuckles, and gazed again.
"How beautiful!" she exclaimed.
The exclamation awoke Cora, who sat up and yawned. Then she looked ather sister, and being only half-awake, smiled in an imbecile manner.
"Isn't it?" asked Elsie.
"Splendid!" replied Cora, turning to the windows. "Oh, I'm _so_sleepy!"
She sank on the pillow again and shut her eyes.
"Come, Cora, let us finish the discussion we began last night aboutLouis Lambert," said Elsie, with an arch smile.
"No, I won't! Let me sleep. I hate Louis Lambert!" said Cora, with ashake of her uppermost shoulder.
Elsie laughed and rose; she was already dressed. Mr Ravenshaw had onthe previous night ordered both his daughters to lie down in theirclothes, as no one could tell what might happen to the house at anymoment. The flood had not yet begun to abate; Elsie could tell that, asshe sat arranging her hair, from the sound of water gurgling through thelower rooms.
We have said that the Ravenshaws had been driven by the floods to theupper floor of their residence. This floor consisted of three bedroomsand a lumber-room. One of the bedrooms was very small and belonged tothe sisters, to whose sole use it was apportioned. For convenience, theother two rooms were set apart on this occasion as the male and thefemale rooms of the establishment, one being used by as many of thewomen as could get comfortably into it, the other by the men. Theoverflow of the household, including those neighbours who had soughtrefuge with the family, were accommodated in the adjoining barn, betweenwhich and the main building communication was kept up by means of acanoe, with Peegwish and Wildcat as the ferrymen. The lumber-roomhaving had most of its lumber removed, was converted into a generalhall, or _salon_, where the imprisoned family had their meals, receivedtheir friends, and discussed their trials. It was a rather dusty place,with sloping roof, no ceiling, and cross-beams, that caused crosstempers in those who ran against them. In one corner a door, removedfrom its hinges, did duty as a dresser. In another Mr Ravenshaw haderected a small stove, on which, being rather proud of his knowledge ofcookery, he busied himself in spoiling a good deal of excellent food. Acouple of planks, laid on two trunks, served for a table. Such cookingutensils and such portions of light furniture as were required had beenbrought up from the rooms below, that which was left having beenweighted with large stones to prevent its being carried away, for thelower doors and windows had been removed to prevent their being drivenin or out, as the case might be.
So complete was the destruction everywhere, that Samuel Ravenshaw hadpassed into a gleeful state of recklessness, and appeared to enjoy thefun of thus roughing it rather than otherwise, to the amusement of hisamiable wife, who beheld his wasteful and daring culinary effortswithout a murmur, and to the horror of Miss Trim, who was called upon toassist in and share the triumphs as well as the dangers of theseefforts.
"Fetch the pepper now, Miss Trim. That's it, thank 'ee.--Hallo! I say,the top has come off that rascally thing, and half the contents havegone into the pan!"
He was engaged in frying a mess of pemmican and flour, of whichprovender he had secured enough to stand a siege of at least six months'duration.
"Never mind," he continued; "in with more flour and more pemmican.That's your sort. It'll make it taste more like curry, which is hotenough, in all conscience."
"But pepper is not like curry," said Miss Trim, who had a brother inIndia, and was consequently a secondhand authority on Indian affairs."Curry is hot, no doubt, and what one may call a seasoning; but it hasnot the flavour of pepper at all, and is not the colour of it, and--"
"Yes, yes, _I_ know all about that, Miss Trim. Why, there's a box ofit, isn't there, in the little cupboard on the stair? I quite forgotit. Fetch it, please, and we'll have real
pemmican curry; and rouse upmy lazy girls as you pass. Don't disturb Mrs R, though. The proverbsays, `Let sleeping'--no, I don't mean _that_ exactly. By the way,don't slip on the stair. The water's about up to that cupboard. Mind,there are six feet water or more in the passage now, and if--"
He stopped, for Miss Trim had already left the room, just as Lambertentered it.
The cupboard to which Miss Trim had been sent was an angular one, letinto the wall to utilise a crooked corner. The step of the stairimmediately below it was the last dry one of the flight. From that stepto the bottom was held by the flood, which gurgled oilily through thedeserted basement. Descending to that step with caution, and gazinganxiously at her own image reflected below, she opened the cupboarddoor.
Now, it chanced that Angus Macdonald's Cochin-China hen, having beendriven from its own home by the flood, had strayed into Mr Ravenshaw'shouse and established itself, uninvited, in the cupboard. It receivedMiss Trim with a croak of indignation and a flutter. Starting back witha slight, "Oh!" the poor lady fell; and who shall adequately describe,or even imagine, the effects of that fall? Many a time had Miss Trimdescended that stair and passage on her feet, but never until then hadshe done so on her back, like a mermaid or a seal! Coming to thesurface immediately, she filled the house with a yell that almost chokedthe hearers, caused old Ravenshaw to heave the pemmican curry into thelap of Lambert, and induced Lambert himself to leap down-stairs to therescue like a harlequin. The bold youth had to swim for it! A gurgleat the far end of the passage told where Miss Trim was going down, likewedding announcements, for the third and last time. Lambert went inlike an otter, caught the lady in his arms, and bore her to thestaircase, and thence to the upper floor in a few minutes. She was atonce taken to the sisters' bedroom, and there restored to life andlamentation.
"My dear," said Mr Ravenshaw to his wife when she appeared, "you'dbetter look after our breakfast--I've made a mess of it, and I'll goover to Angus Macdonald and invite him and his household to come andstay with us. Their house must be almost afloat by this time."
The old gentleman hailed Peegwish, who was outside in the canoe at themoment.
That would-be brewer at once made for the house, paddled his canoethrough the doorway and up the passage to the staircase, where Wildcat,who managed the bow paddle, held on by the bannister while Mr Ravenshawembarked. Reissuing from the doorway, they made for their neighbour'sresidence.
Macdonald's house had indeed become almost uninhabitable. It stood sodeep in the water that only the upper windows were visible. Thechimneys and roofs of some of the outhouses formed, with the mainbuilding and a few tree-tops, a small Archipelago.
"You are fery kind, Mr Ruvnshaw," said Angus from an upper window,beneath which the canoe floated. "It iss not improbaple that my housewill pe goin' down the river like a post, but that iss nothing--notanything at all--when there will pe such a destruction goin' on all overthe settlement whatever. It iss fery coot of you, oo ay. I will put myfuddle into the canoe, an' my sister she will pe ready at wance.--Wassyou ready, Martha?"
A voice from the interior intimated that Miss Martha would be, "ready intwo minutes."
"Pe quick, then," said Macdonald, looking inwards while he lowered hisviolin, to which he was passionately attached, into the canoe, "you hefnot much time to waste, Martha, for it wass time we will pe goin'."
In a few minutes Angus Macdonald's house was abandoned to its fate, andhimself and sister, with a couple of domestics, were added to the numberof refugees who crowded to the abode of hospitable Sam Ravenshaw.
"Hef you forgotten the cawtie?" asked Angus of his sister, whileassisting her to land on the steps from which Miss Trim had taken herdive.
"No, Angus, I've got it in my basket, but I fear the poor old hen hasbeen lost. It's all over the house I sought for it before comin' away,but--"
A triumphant cackle from the cupboard overhead interrupted Miss Martha.
"Ha! ha!" shouted Mr Ravenshaw; "thats where the sound came from thismorning! And I do believe it must have been that brute which causedMiss Trim to fall into the water."
With a twinkle in his eye, the old gentleman related the incident of themorning, while Angus, with a grim expression, kept his eye on Beauty,who gazed inquiringly out at the half-open door of her retreat.
"It iss a pad craitur you've peen--fery pad--ever since I got you, butit iss no more mischief you will pe dooin' after this--whatever."
Angus seized the unfortunate hen by the neck as he spoke, and flung italong the passage, where it fell into the water, and went cackling andchoking through the doorway.
Beauty's powers were varied as well as surprising. Although thus, forthe first time in her life, compelled to take to the water, she swam aswell as any duck, and went straight off as if by instinct, to theforsaken house. From the window of the lumber-room Angus saw her reachit, scramble, somehow, on to its roof, and there utter a crow ofdefiance that would have done credit to her defunct husband. There wasone other object besides his own house and surroundings which Angus sawfrom that window. It was the smoking-box on the willow-clad knoll,which formed a separate island in the flood. The sight stirred upunpleasant recollections. He turned from the window, and gave hisattention to the substantial breakfast to which his host invited him.
The greater part of that day was spent in rearranging the habitableparts of Willow Creek, and placing the more delicate valuables furtherout of danger. At night candles were lighted, fresh wood was heaped upin the stove, and the lumber-room became comparatively comfortable.
"Will you play us a tune, Angus?" said Louis Lambert, drawing a stoolbetween Elsie and Cora and sitting down. "The ladies, you know, nevertire of your music."
"I hef not anything new," replied Angus, with becoming modesty; "but ifthe leddies wass willin' to listen to some o' the old tunes, my fuddlean' I will try what we can do."
"We love the old tunes best," said Cora.
As every one else echoed the sentiment, Angus, nothing loath, began todiscourse sweet sounds, which, to say truth, were indeed very sweet, andmingled not inharmoniously with the sound of waters which gurgled gentlyunderneath.
Angus could play Scotch reels in a manner that made dancing almostunavoidable, but he preferred slow, plaintive music, and on thisoccasion indulged his taste to the full, so as to fling a mantle ofquiescence and pathos over the family circle.
Samuel Ravenshaw had retired to a darkish corner to enjoy his pipe, butthe music awoke sad memories. The lost Tony came vividly before him,and beside his darling boy arose the dark form of the Red Man, whosemode of taking his revenge had been to him so terrible, all the moreterrible that the nature of the old man was secretive in regard tosorrow. His joys he was ever ready to share with every one, but hisgriefs he smothered in his own breast, and scorned to let hiscountenance betray his heart.
No one knew how much he suffered. Perhaps Elsie understood him best.At all events she had become more earnest and thoughtful in herattentions after that dark day when her little brother was spiritedaway. Leaving Lambert to Cora, she went over to her father, sat downbeside him, and, laying her head upon his shoulder, listened with a sortof melancholy pleasure to the sweet strains of the violin.
They were suddenly and rudely awakened from this state of quiescence bya blinding flash of lightning, followed almost instantaneously by atremendous clap of thunder which sounded like colliding worlds overhead,and then rolled away in deep mutterings of discontent. This wasrepeated at short intervals, then the rain and hail came down intorrents, and the wind rose so that soon the waves began to beatviolently on the house. The day which had begun so calmly ended infurious storm--emblematic of many a day in every human life.
Seated there with feelings of awe and anxiety, the Ravenshaw householdpassed the night in silence.
And still the waters of the Red River continued to rise--slowly, it istrue, and inch by inch instead of foot by foot--until these settlers inthe great wilderness began to think, with so
mething akin tosuperstitious fear, of that mighty deluge which had been sent tosubmerge the world in the days of old.