The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood/Chapter 16
CHAPTER XVI
A BOLT FROM THE SKY
Blake, Joe and the others looked on in bewildered surprise at this touching scene. That Charlie should have found his mother in this fashion seemed scarcely possible, yet such was the fact.
For several moments mother and son were in each other's arms, murmuring over and over again their protestations of love, and words of wonderment at the meeting.
"Where did you find him?" the mother finally demanded, of our friends aboard the motor boat. "Oh, where ever did you find him?"
"We got him out of a house, just as we did you," said Mr. Ringold, "only it was an upside-down house, and not a burning one. And so he is really your lost boy?"
"Of course he is!" she cried, while Charlie added:
"She's my mamma! I'm awful glad you found her for me. Where have you been, Mamma?"
"It's a long story," she sighed. "But first I want to hear about you. Oh, I thought I would never see you again."
"It won't take long to tell all we know about it," said Mr. Ringold, and he related the facts of the rescue of the boy they had christened Charlie House.
"His name is Charlie Wentworth," explained his mother, "and that was our house from which you saved him. It's strange he did not know his last name, and where he lived, for he has often been lost, and he could always tell where he lived all right."
"I guess the flood frightened him," said Blake, with a smile. "How did he happen to be left in the house?"
"It was because of the confusion of the flood in our town," explained Mrs. Wentworth. "My husband and I were trying to save some of our things, taking them to my mother's place on a hill. We had taken Charlie to a neighbor's house before the water actually reached our dwelling, but he must have wandered back into it again when we did not know it, and have gone to sleep in the bed."
"Yep. I went to sleep in bed," supplemented the lad, with a happy laugh.
"Then the levee gave way suddenly," went on his mother, "and our house, and several others, were carried away. My husband and I supposed Charlie was safe at the neighbor's until we got there and found him missing. We were frantic, and searched everywhere for him, never dreaming he was in our own house. Then the flood grew worse and we had to flee to high ground. We gave him up for drowned. Oh, it does not seem possible that I have him again!"
"Where is your husband now?" asked Mr. Ringold, as he guided the boat toward the place where the other rescued persons had been landed.
"We came on to this town, where my sister lived," went on Mrs. Wentworth. "This is my sister," she added, nodding toward the woman who had first dived into the flood. "We had to take refuge with her, as we had no other home, and we did not think the flood would come here also. But it did, and it brought my little boy to me!" she cried, as again she clasped him in her arms.
"My husband is out, doing relief work," she resumed, after a moment. "We heard a rumor, this morning, that some children had been rescued from a raft farther down the river and he went down there to investigate, thinking, and hoping against hope, that our Charlie might be one of them.
"He will be more than surprised when he comes back to find my sister's house burned in the flood, and that I have Charlie. Oh, I wish he were here now!"
"I want to see papa!" broke in Charlie.
"And so you shall, my dear boy, as soon as he comes back. I expect him to-night," said Mrs. Wentworth. "Oh, I cannot thank you enough—ever!" and she gazed fondly at our friends.
"It wasn't anything," said Mr. Ringold. "We happened to visit the house out of curiosity, and of course we brought Charlie away when we found him. He's a brave little chap."
A little later the temporary camp, on the high ground, was reached, and there Mrs. Wentworth, her sister and son were cared for by loving hands. The others who had been saved from the burning houses were also being looked after.
"Well, I guess we've done all we can here," said Blake, as they prepared to resume their journey down the river.
The blazing houses were burning themselves out, down to the edge of the water, and the danger from the flames was over. But the peril of the flood still remained, for the waters slowly continued to rise.
"We found Charlie's folks," remarked Joe, when they had bidden an affectionate farewell to the boy's mother, aunt and others of the rescued ones, "we found Charlie's folks, but we can't seem to locate our own friends."
"And yet we may find them in just as unexpected a manner as we found Mrs. Wentworth," spoke C. C. "I tell you I'm mighty glad we happened along when we did. It's just like a story out of a book."
"It would make a good moving picture, if we could show it all complete," spoke Blake.
"It could be worked up into a drama, with the flood scenes you have," declared the theatrical manager. "I could film the missing scenes later. I believe I will."
"There'll be one happy father to-night," observed Joe, thoughtfully. "When Mr. Wentworth comes back, unsuccessful, and finds his son, he sure will be happy!"
"We'll miss the little chap," spoke Blake. "He was as good as gold while he was with us."
On the chance that there might still be some in need of rescue in the town where the houses had burned, the Clytie went back through the flooded streets, but men in small boats were patrolling the district, and, thanking our friends for their work, said they would look after matters now.
"But there won't be much left to look after, if this keeps on," spoke one man, gloomily enough, as he looked over the burned section, and the flooded village. "We've been smitten mighty hard."
"But we'll come up again, when the waters go down!" cried another, more cheerfully. "It might be worse. No lives have been lost, so far, that's one blessing!"
"That's a good way to look at it," said Mr. Ringold, as he directed the craft out into the main flood again, and turned her bow down stream.
As they were all tired, and wet from the work of rescuing those who had leaped into the water, it was decided to make a stop, tie up, have something to eat, and clean the boat, for there was much mud and water aboard from the clothing of the saved ones.
Accordingly, in a sheltered cove, tied to a tree that stuck up out of the flood, they made a halt. The preparation of the meal, and the cleansing of the boat took longer than they expected, and as Blake wanted to get some pictures of that flooded section, they decided to remain there over night, and proceed in the morning.
The weather had cleared again, at least for the time being, and, aside from their anxiety about the missing ones, our friends were fairly comfortable. They had put on dry clothing, and sat in the cabin of the boat, discussing the strenuous scenes through which they had recently passed.
A loud crash awakened them all about midnight, no watch having been kept. It sounded like some great explosion, close at hand.
"What was that?" cried Blake, sitting up in his bunk.
He had his answer a second later, for there was a blinding flash, and another booming sound.
"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed Joe. "It's a storm!"
A moment later there came a deluge of rain, that fairly roared as it struck the deck and awnings of the boat.
"Whew!" exclaimed Blake. "This is fierce! If this keeps up long the flood will exceed its own high-water mark."
"Better take a look at the cable," suggested Mr. Ringold. "We don't want to get adrift in this outburst."
Blake put on a raincoat, and stepped outside. The vivid lightning, and the deafening thunder, kept up, and he was forced to cling to the rail to steady himself against the motion of the craft, and the force of the wind. The Clytie was tugging hard at her mooring cable, which was strained taut.
"It wouldn't do any harm to put on another rope!" cried Blake.
"We'll do it," answered Mr. Ringold, from the sleeping cabin.
Blake made his way to the cleat to which the boat end of the rope was made fast. He saw, with concern, that the rope was frayed, and would not hold much longer.
"Better hurry!" he called, but he had scarcely spoken when the very sky seemed rent with a bolt of lightning, and, as the raging, roaring, flooded river was lighted up by the flash, the rope parted and the motor boat was carried away.
"We're adrift!" yelled Blake, as intense darkness succeeded the bright glare.