It was in the spring, when a sudden rise in the river threatened to take the ice out of the streams. The Baileys had a small flat boat in the river which they plied between the island and Jersey Shore. It was still in the river when the early spring freshet came, and was in danger of being carried away with the heavy floe of ice. To save the flat, Joe Bailey and another man took a team of oxen and went to haul the flat out of the stream. While Joe was on the flat fastening a chain to a ring the ice suddenly broke up and crowded down upon the place, tearing the boat from the landing and sending the young man adrift on the ice.
His brother on the Jersey Shore side of the river stood horrified for a moment, and then fully realizing the importance of imminent action, borrowed a fast running horse and set out for Williamsport on a dead run. It was a race for life. Night was setting in and the weather turned suddenly bitter cold.
With horse and rider panting for breath, young Bailey reached Williamsport and alarmed the town. Many rushed to the bridge, but none were prepared to render service to the man going adrift on the ice. They could hear him shouting for assistance, but the flood bore him down upon them before they could secure a rope to drop down for Bailey to lay hold of and be lifted to the bridge.
Knowing that rescue was impossible, one thoughtful man removed his overcoat and dropped it down into the rushing boat, and received the freezing man’s grateful thanks.
Nothing daunted, young Bailey secured a fresh horse and struck out for Muncy, where another bridge spanned the Susquehanna river.
Again young Bailey reached the long bridge too late to secure help. Joe passed under the bridge before the men could lower a rope. But the undaunted brother would not give Joe up to the horrible death that awaited him somewhere down the roaring, rushing, grinding gorge. No human aid could reach him until he came to the bridge at Northumberland, so the brother secured a third horse and dashed away to the rescue again. No other ride through darkness and danger equalled that ride, except the ride of Paul Revere. And poor Joe’s awful ride in the rushing ice gorge could not be surpassed for danger and loneliness by any of the dangerous rides noted by historians and sung of by the poets.
During the ice floe in the West Branch of the Susquehanna river the current is extremely rapid and the brother dashing away on horseback knew full well that no time must be lost if he reached the Northumberland bridge in time to save Joe. This was the last chance. No other bridge could be reached on horseback in time for a rescue. There was no railroad then, no telegraph line, and the most rapid means of communication was by horseback.
Can you blame young Bailey then for urging the horse to the utmost speed? When the animal slowed up young Bailey laid on the lash and urged it to even faster speed. He and the horse could alone rescue the frantic man adrift on the ice floe. All those who knew of Joe Bailey’s peril were left far behind. The people of Northumberland would know nothing until young Bailey arrived. On and on he dashed, arriving at the town exhausted and sore from his long, hard ride.
The town was alarmed, and a score of boatmen and old river men rushed to the bridge, but not forgetting long ropes with nooses prepared at the end. Thank God he had not passed yet! They could hear him calling for help far up the stream. When near the bridge they called to him to be ready and slip the nose of the rope under his arms. Quick! Joe Bailey is safely tied in the loop! Up with the poor fellow! Safe! Thank God! The two brothers clasp each other in their strong arms, the one softly whispering: “Joe! Oh, Joe!”