CHAPTER VI
“TELL MOTHER I AM ALL RIGHT”
There is a fascination in the presence of danger which we all feel. The news of the dreadful disaster spread with astonishing rapidity, and when I reached the river-side it seemed as if all Damietta were there.
The lamps twinkled in the hands of innumerable men moving hither and thither in that restless manner which showed how deep their feelings were. People were talking in guarded voices, as if the shadow of an awful danger impended over them, and the wildest rumors, as is the case at such times, were afloat. It was said that six, eight, and a dozen persons had gone down with the bridge and were irrecoverably lost. Other structures above us were carried away (though no one stopped to explain how the tidings had reached ahead of the flood itself), and it was asserted that not a span would be left on the stream at daybreak.
The flickering lanterns gave a glimpse of the scene which rendered it more impressive than if viewed under the glare of midday. Some daring ones ventured out to the first abutment despite the danger, and we saw the glare of their lanterns on the rushing, muddy water and the immense blocks of ice. Some of the latter would impinge against the stone abutment with a prodigious grinding crash, spin around several times, and then mount up from the water, crowded by others behind, as though it was about to climb over the massive stone. Then it would tumble back with a splash and swiftly sweep out of sight in the darkness.
Again, trees, with their bushy tops tossing above the surface, glided by as if caught in a rushing mill-race, and a grotesque character was given to the whole scene by the sudden crowing of some cocks, which must have been frightened by the twinkling lights so near them.
Few in Damietta went to bed that night. There was a continual walking to and fro, as people are seen to do when some great calamity is about to break upon them. Several mounted horses and rode down the river-bank for miles, in the weak hope of picking up tidings of the lost ones. No one could be found who knew the lady and child in the carriage which came upon the bridge from the other side. There were innumerable guesses as to their identity, but they were guesses and nothing more. No doubt was entertained that when communication could be opened with Moorestown on the morrow, we would learn who they were.
I stayed at the river-side for an hour, weighed down by the greatest grief of my life. I was anxious to do something, but there was absolutely nothing for me to do. Ben was gone, and his friends could not begin an intelligent search for him before the morrow.