The Safety First Club and the Flood

by William Theophilus Nichols

Poke made deliberate survey. The light was still dim; low lying, gray clouds seemed to merge in thin mists, through which only vaguely could the shore be discerned. The rain had decreased somewhat, but it was like a veil in hiding distant objects. There were, to be sure, other objects near at hand, which under happier conditions the voyagers must have found interesting. Keeping pace with the boat, and not fifty feet away, drifted an overturned wagon. Trailing this came a pagoda-like summer-house, at the head of a fleet of chicken coops, boxes and barrels. Farther still from the boat floated the roof of a barn. All about them the boys saw planks, logs, a section of wooden fence, limbs torn from trees, doors, odds and ends of furniture; anything, in fact, which the flood could bear along. A squirrel, perched on a log, chattered at them; a cat, crouched on a big packing-case, mewed piteously. Beyond the case they could see the body of a cow, still held by a halter to the shed in which she had been drowned, and which now was sweeping down the stream.

Except for the current there was more suggestion of lake than river; though the trees protruding above the water added a weird touch to the picture, which differed markedly from that of any lake either boy ever had seen. Even the philosophy of Poke was not proof against the effects of such evidences of destruction. He huddled himself lower, and his voice shook.

“I—I—say, this is pretty fierce, Step! Things must have been awful for the folks up above.”

“They’re awful enough for the folks here!” groaned Step.

Then there was a long pause. The light strengthened, but slowly, very slowly. Neither of the boys took pains to maintain a vigilant lookout; and so it happened that they were sighted from the old house before they were aware of the attic still protruding above the flood.

Roused to action by the shouts of Sam and his comrades, they caught up their extemporized paddles and fell to work as for dear life. Had the boat not been drifting almost directly toward the house, however, it is much to be doubted if they could have brought it alongside. As things were, they accomplished the feat, the side of the punt crunching against the roof just where Sam and his friends were gathered.

Then a curious complication arose. It was eloquent testimony to the slight confidence or liking either party had for its quarter; for as the boys in the house tried to scramble into the boat, Poke and Step leaped wildly for the break in the roof. In consequence, Poke and the Shark collided, and pitched together to the floor of the attic, while Step and Orkney, clinging to each other, reeled against Lon with such force as to drive him back from the opening.

Sam and Varley chanced to be a little to one side. This kept them free of the unintentional mêlée, but, at the same time, put them farther from the boat, which, helped, no doubt, by the impetus of Poke and Step’s leaps, edged away from the house.

It would be hard to say which was the quicker to grasp the danger of losing the boat. Both sprang forward; both tried to grasp the gunwale—and both failed by inches.

Then Varley did a thing which may have been rash, but the daring of which was not to be denied. Like a flash he whipped off his greatcoat; vaulted the wreck of wall; plunged into the flood; caught the side of the boat. Sam, no laggard in such an emergency, leaned out and seized Varley by the leg. In an instant his call for Lon brought help. The big punt was heavy; the current was beginning to lay hold upon it again. For a little it seemed to be impossible that Varley should be able to retain his grasp on the rail or that Lon and Sam should be able to haul in their human cable; then, inch by inch, they began to gain. The boat was dragged within reach. Orkney and the Shark, by this time clear of Step and Poke, held it fast, while Sam hauled Varley out of the water.