I was appalled at the terrible sight. It was an open country, and there were few trees to be seen, except around the houses at the plantations. It looked like an inland sea. I saw the two men struggling in the water at some distance from the levee. They were evidently trying to touch bottom with their feet, but the water was over their heads.
"How deep is the water on that flat, Mr. Pilot?" I asked, not a little excited at the idea of witnessing such a loss of life as he had predicted.
"I should say it was from eight to ten feet deep all the way to those plantations," he replied.
"Why don't one of the steamers waiting here go over to the assistance of those poor people?" I inquired.
"They can't get through, and they would be swamped if they should try it. The breach is not more than thirty feet wide, and these boats would stick till they were torn to pieces. They are so low in the water that it would put their fires out when they went through and fill their holds."
I looked about the decks of both our steamers, and found that all the passengers were on board of the Islander. I told Ben Bowman, who was on duty in the engine-room, to put on all the steam she could safely carry. He assured me he had enough for anything.
"Look out, Captain Blastblow, if you please, for I am going to cast off," I called to the Islander. "Keep the ladies in a safe place. All the Sylvanias on board!"
I went into the pilot-house, and rang to back the steamer. I kept her moving until we were in the middle of the river. I had carefully examined the crevasse, and I judged that the water was not more than two feet lower on the flat than it was in the river.
"How deep is the water in the cut, Mr. Pilot?" I asked.
"Not less than eight feet; and it may be ten. You can't tell."