For the brow of the hill had become a shore by the stream which in its fury had dashed over it! And upon the brow of the hill half the village had assembled, and people still came running in breathless haste. The village was in no danger; the nearest houses were ten to fifteen feet above water; it did not seem possible that the water could rise much more, especially as it had dropped a foot during the last few minutes. The storm had gone somewhat to the north; the inrushing flood must flow in the direction of the Hook. It had also grown a little brighter, although the storm still raged on with unabating force. Those who had arrived first did not need to show the others coming up the scene of the calamity; every one could discern the white terrace over there and the female figures in black—at one time two, and now again only one, as before, who continually signaled with a handkerchief, and sat crouching in a corner as if she had given up hope and expected and awaited her fate.
And yet it appeared as if the rescue must be accomplished. The space was so narrow; one could throw a stone across. The best throwers had tried it, foolishly—with a thin cord attached to a stone; but the stone did not go ten feet, and blew away with the line like a spider-web. And now the huge wave rolled on into the park, dashing over the terrace, spending its force in the stream, in spite of the fact that it had washed up to the edge of the shore. The women cried aloud; the men looked at one another with serious, troubled expressions.
"Nothing can be done, children," said the Burgess; "before we can bring the raft around, the building over there will be broken to pieces. One more such wave, and it will break into a thousand bits—I know it will; the pillars are not six inches thick, and the wood is worm-eaten."
"And if we can get the raft over and move up toward it, we shall break it in two and upset ourselves," said Jochen Becker, the smith.
"There are ten lying in the water instead of two!" exclaimed Carl Peters, the carpenter.
"That doesn't help any," said the Burgess; "we can't let them drown before our very eyes. We will try to get twenty feet further up with the raft, and put the people right on it; I'll go along myself. Take hold, children, take hold!"
"Ho, heave ho! Ho, heave ho!"
A hundred hands were ready to draw the raft up stream, but thirty paces would not accomplish it; it must be twice that far. The half hundred brave men had been found ready to make the attempt; the Burgess would stay by—who else should command them that held the rope?—That was the important thing!
They stood on the raft with long poles.
"Ready!"