The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood; Or, Perilous Days on the Mississippi

by Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER XX

  ON THE RAFT

  "We're sinking!"

  "Get out the life preservers!"

  "Save the films and cameras!"

  "And grab something to eat! Don't forget that!"

  Thus cried those aboard the _Clytie_, for it was evident that the stanchcraft had made her last voyage. She was careened at a dangerous angle,and her motor had stopped.

  "The raft ripped a big hole in the bow!" shouted Mr. Ringold, who, withBlake, had been thrown against the side of the pilot house, and wassomewhat stunned by the shock.

  "Are we sinking?" asked Joe.

  "No, but it is only a question of a few minutes. We must saveourselves."

  "And our outfit--if we can," said Joe. "What shall we do?"

  A hasty examination showed that the jagged front logs of the raft hadbeen driven completely into the motor boat, staving in her planking,through which the water was rushing. And, so violent had been the blowof the collision that the _Clytie_ was actually impaled on the floatingtree trunks, that were bound together with ropes.

  "Take to the raft!" cried Mr. Ringold. "It's our only chance!"

  "That's right!" shouted C. C. "Come on, boys! Load all we can on theraft!"

  The water was now up over the cabin floor. It was evident that she wasgoing down fast. Only the fact that the raft stuck part way through herheld her up. Once filled with water, as she soon must be, she would pullherself loose by her own weight, and go to the bottom of theMississippi.

  "Food first, water--and something for a light!" cried Mr. Ringold,issuing his orders calmly. "Then, if you can, boys, save the cameras andfilms."

  "Oh, we'll save them!" exclaimed Blake.

  "I should say so!" murmured Joe.

  A keg of water, some packages of food, and two lanterns were hastilylifted over the side of the motor boat, and placed on the raft. Thensome blankets, bedding and other things were tossed over in a pile.

  "Now the cameras and films!" yelled Blake. "Get on the raft, Joe, andI'll pass them to you."

  Stopping only to gather up a few personal belongings, Joe leaped to thesurface of the raft. It had been a large one, though only part of itremained now, and it was well up out of the water.

  "Here you go!" cried Blake, as he handed down the reels of exposed film.And how glad Blake was that they had taken the precaution to wrap themin oil-cloth! For it was raining, and he had to lay the reels down onthe raft, where the water would drizzle on them.

  "Any more?" asked Joe, as he came back from the center of the log raft,where he had piled the things Blake handed to him out of the motor boat.

  "The cameras now. They're loaded, so be careful of them. We may get achance to take more views," spoke Blake, hopefully.

  "It doesn't seem so," commented Joe, as he glanced at the sinking_Clytie_.

  Mr. Ringold and C. C. were busy saving what they could to give aid andcomfort while aboard the raft. It could not be much, for there waslittle time to spare.

  "She's going!" warned the actor, as he passed out another roll ofblankets and bedding.

  "I think she is," agreed the manager, as the impaled motor boat gave alurch, and pulled partly away from the raft. She was filling rapidlywith water, and the great weight of that, as well as the weight of themotor, was dragging down the hapless _Clytie_.

  "Come on! Jump!" urged the actor to Mr. Ringold and Blake, who wereaboard the sinking boat. "No time to lose."

  Blake paused only long enough to grab up a light rifle, and somecartridges, which were in the cabin, and then he leaped to the raft.

  He was followed by Mr. Ringold, and none too soon, for, a moment later,with a rending of planks, the motor boat pulled away from the jaggedends of the raft on which she was impaled.

  A second's hesitation, and she sank with a gurgling, bubbling soundbeneath the muddy, swirling waters of the Mississippi.

  "Good-bye, _Clytie_!" said Blake, softly, and it was as though he wassaying farewell to some dear friend.

  "Well, I guess we've seen the last of her," murmured Mr. Ringold.

  They stood silent for a minute, huddled together, a wet, miserable groupon the big raft that was racing down stream. Then, as he gazed at hiscompanions, and then at the pile of their possessions, C. C. Piperremarked:

  "What happened, anyhow? What does it all mean? Is it a dream orreality?"

  "It's real, all right," spoke Joe, mournfully enough. "We were rammed bythis raft--that's what happened. And it's lucky for us that these logsstood by long enough for us to get aboard, or we'd be swimming out therein the big muddy," and he nodded toward the river, from which they werekept by none too stout a craft.

  "It's my fault," said Mr. Ringold. "I should have seen this raft racingalong."

  "Well, let's see what sort of a boat the raft's going to make for us,"interrupted Joe. "We've got to stay aboard to-night, at all events."

  "Yes, and maybe longer," added Blake. "Well, there's a cabin to takeshelter in, anyhow. Let's take a look at that."

  He nodded toward the stern of the raft, and, looming up in the darkness,could be seen a sort of shack, or shanty. It was where the raftmen didtheir cooking, eating and sleeping, while navigating the big collectionof logs down the river.

  "Let's see what sort of place it is," Blake went on. "Maybe there arebunks in it, and a stove where we can cook what stuff we've got left,"and he looked at the little pile of food they had been able to save fromthe sinking boat.