The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood/Chapter 11
CHATTER XI
UPSIDE DOWN
"Say, there's a lot more stuff coming down the river than has at any time yet," remarked Blake, as he and his friends sat in the cabin of the Clytie, while she made her way in the flooded stream. "Look at those big logs, and parts of houses!"
"Yes, and we've got to be careful," said Mr. Ringold, who had relinquished the wheel to Joe. "First thing we know we may bump into a log, and have a hole stove into us. Then we will have trouble!"
"Oh, I guess" began C. C., when there came a bump on the port bow of the craft.
"What's that?" cried the manager, leaping to his feet.
"Only a little log," answered Joe. "I didn't see it until I was right on top of it, or I could have steered out of the way."
"I was going to say I guessed nothing would happen," went on C. C., "but I reckon I was a bit mistaken."
"If it's nothing worse than that we won't kick," murmured Blake. "Still you never can tell. I'll come up there, Joe, and help you keep a lookout for big bits of wreckage."
"It would be a good idea to have two at the wheel," said Mr. Ringold. "We'll do that after this, and we won't try to do any night travel—we'll just tie up at dark, wherever we can."
"There must be a worse flood up above, than there was at first, to bring all this stuff down," observed Joe, when he and Blake were on duty. "Whole villages must have been swept away, to judge by the pieces of houses I've seen."
"Yes, and farm-places, too," added Blake, as he pointed to a part of a wrecked barn swirling around in the water.
A little later they passed a village, partly submerged, and as they swung in close to it Mr. Ringold shouted questions as to the possible whereabouts of his lost players. No one, however, knew anything about them. They seemed to have disappeared.
Whenever Blake and Joe saw interesting sights they used the moving picture cameras to advantage. But much of the desolate scenery along the flooded river was of the same character, and they wanted to save their films for more dramatic situations.
Though the river was higher, the rain, which had ceased that morning, did not commence again, and the skies seemed much brighter.
"I don't know much about the weather conditions out here," said Mr. Ringold, "but it looks to me as though it were going to clear."
"I hope so," murmured Mr. Piper. "It feels as if I'd never get dried out."
It was indeed damp, muggy and sticky. The moving picture boys, too, found difficulty in getting satisfactory results under such weather conditions, but they did the best they could.
"What are you doing?" asked Joe of Blake, on the afternoon of the day they had left the levee.
"Making some waterproof covers for the exposed film," was the answer.
"To keep it dry from the rain?"
"No, to keep it dry in case we—well, in case anything happens, as Mr. Piper would say."
"What do you mean?" Joe wanted to know.
"I mean we may have an accident at any time. While this motor boat is a good one, she may be wrecked, especially when we get down to the lower river, where the flood is sure to be worse. There'll be more debris there, and we may easily be stove in, crushed or upset."
"Say, you're worse than he is, lately," cried Joe, with a nod at Mr. Piper, who was out on the stern deck.
"No, I only want to take all precautions," Blake went on. "We've got some valuable films here, and if they fall into the water they'll be spoiled. It was bad enough for Munson, or whoever it was, to take our other films, and I don't want to lose these in the flood. So I'm going to stow them away in water-tight boxes, as fast as we expose them."
In anticipation of water troubles the boys had brought along some sheets of rubberized cloth, and this was now used to line, and wrap about and seal up, small boxes, in which the exposed films could be packed. Thus it was hoped to save them.
Dinner had been eaten aboard the boat, and then, as they proceeded, they stopped at several places along the flooded Mississippi, to make inquiries for the missing ones.
But so many persons had either been carried away by the great flood, or driven from their homes, and so many unfortunate occurrences filled the minds of the people, that no one could remember, or tell about, any missing moving picture players.
Then, too, at several of the towns, the levees were in danger, and all available help was engaged in making them stronger. It was a time of stress and trouble for all.
After leaving one small city, that was threatened by the rising river, our friends proceeded well out in the stream, as they had been informed a dangerous "cut-off" had formed just below, and they might be drawn into it, and stranded in a big swamp.
"We'll avoid that, if we can," said Mr. Ringold, as they came within sight of the "cutoff," and saw where the stream had divided.
The manager was at the wheel, and, as he put it hard over, so as to give the dangerous current an extra wide berth, the motor unexpectedly stopped.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Ringold, as he noticed, with alarm, that they were being drawn into the "cut-off."
"Motor's gone dead!" cried Blake, as he sprang toward it. "I will see if I can start it."
But though he turned and turned again the flywheel, the machine would not go. It was rather an old-fashioned one, and worked hard.
"Got plenty of gasoline?" asked Joe, coming up to the help of his chum.
"There was half an hour ago, and we can't have used up all in the tank yet. Besides, we've got a barrel in reserve."
"I'll put some in, anyhow!" cried Joe. But, when this was done, the motor still refused to go, and they were being carried by the current nearer and nearer to the dangerous place.
"Let me try," suggested Mr. Ringold. "Here, you boys steer, though you can't really do much without power to give us more headway than we've got."
Again and again he spun the wheel, but it seemed of no use. The motor remained dead. Then, as Mr. Piper came up to see if he could lend any aid, he saw a small dangling wire, that no one appeared to have noticed, or attended to.
"Is that the trouble?" he asked. "That loose wire?"
"That's it—the ignition!" cried Mr. Ringold. "I'll have it fixed in a jiffy now. Though I don't know as we can make it," he added, as he noticed how near they were to the treacherous "cut-off."
But he was not one to give up easily, nor were his companions. The broken wire was hastily joined, and then, with the electric current in proper shape, when the flywheel was spun again, the motor responded with a welcome roar and throb.
"Now see if we can make it!" cried Mr. Ringold, as he took the wheel. "It's a bare chance!"
It was, and how slender the boys did not realize until later. The powerful current pulled and tugged at them, to force them off the course, and into a branch of the stream that ended in a dismal swamp.
But the Clytie was a stanch craft, and was in good hands. Slowly but surely she fought her way against the cross-current, pulling away from danger.
"I'm giving her all the gas she can take," murmured Mr. Ringold, as he advanced the throttle to its limit, and set the spark timer at its most advantageous position. "She can't do any more!"
Blake and Joe stood ready to do all possible, but it was not much. They had to depend on the motor. And that machine made good. The propeller, beating the muddy water to foam, slowly shoved the craft ahead, and to one side, until, finally, the pull of the cross-current was lessened. Then, gathering speed, the boat made her way into the main channel.
"Safe—for a while at least!" cried Mr. Ringold.
The danger to which they had been exposed rather unnerved them for the time being. All that afternoon they kept on down the great river, the boys taking occasional pictures. The rain, still held off, for which they were very thankful.
"And now we'd better look for a good place at which to tie up for the night," remarked Mr. Ringold, when preparations for supper were under way.
"That looks like a good place, just around that bend," spoke Blake, pointing to it.
"We'll make for it," decided the manager.
As they went along they found that the bend was caused by a "cut-off" having made a new channel for itself, to the left of the main stream. This "cut-off" was larger and deeper than any they had yet encountered. It was bringing down a mass of debris, too, and some care had to be used in navigating near it.
"That will do for a place to spend the night," decided Mr. Ringold, as he shifted his course slightly. They were behind a wooded point, and, as they rounded it, the two boys uttered cries of astonishment.
For, coming straight toward them, was a small house, turned completely upside down in the water.