# The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood/Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII
THE MOTOR BOAT
"There she comes!"
"And see! It's all she can do to stem the current!"
Joe and Blake were watching the approach of a small steam tug, that was coming up the stream. Powerful as she looked, it was all she could do to make headway, so forceful was the swollen river.
"We can't all get aboard her," declared Mr. Piper, who, with the boys, Mr. Ringold, and some others, was standing in the rain, near the abutments of the vanished bridge. "If we try to she'll sink."
"Say, please don't talk that way!" begged the manager. "We are going to have troubles enough, without that."
"Oh, all right. But I just want to be careful," spoke C. C.
"The boat will make several trips—there will ​be no danger," said the train conductor. "The railroad will look after its passengers."
This was reassuring, but still the danger was great. Now that the moving picture boys were actually at the scene of the flood they realized, better than any printed account, or any pictures, could convey to them, how great was the desolation. It seemed as though a little higher rise in the river would flood the whole country.
"I think I will abandon my idea of trying to make any dramatic pictures," said Mr. Ringold, thoughtfully, as he and the boys watched the approach of the tug. "We will devote our energies to finding the missing members of my company, and in making scenes of the flood. It would be out of the question to try and make dramas. I can see that now."
Blake and Joe had begun to think so themselves, and they were glad to have the manager admit this.
"We're going to have all we can do, just getting pictures under these conditions," declared Blake. "We'll have to be swimming, or in a boat, all the while, I guess."
Mr. Ringold went back to the stalled train to tell the few actors and actresses, whom he had brought from New York with him, that no dramas would be taken. He offered to send them ​back, or to look after them in Hannibal, until he returned, but the players decided to go back. They could do nothing in the flooded district.
"And I suppose you'll go back with the others, C. C.," remarked the manager.
Everyone was unprepared for the gloomy comedian's answer.
"No, I'll stick with you and the boys," he said, quietly. "I may be able to help you in the rescue work. I'd give a good deal to be able to find them; especially little Birdie Lee."
"Shake!" cried Mr. Ringold, clasping Mr. Piper's hand. "I guess there's nothing the matter with your liver, after all!"
There was a freight shed near where the train was stalled, and under this those passengers who were not going back, stood, while waiting for the tug to make a landing.
It rained steadily, sometimes coming down in a veritable deluge, and again only drizzling. It was a wet, miserable time for all, but Blake and Joe did not murmur. Their only regret was that the weather conditions were such as to prevent them from using their cameras.
"But it may clear up to-morrow," spoke Blake.
"I hope so," joined in Mr. Piper.
"His liver is still good," murmured Joe. ​"Otherwise he'd have said that it would never clear. He isn't so bad—at times."
"No, not at times," admitted Blake, with a grin.
The abutment on which one end of the bridge had rested, served as a pier for the boat, which was, after some difficulty, made fast to it.
"All aboard," called the captain. "We'll take as many as we can, and come back for the rest. It isn't a very long trip, nor is it an easy one. All aboard."
To the delight of Mr. Ringold, he, the boys and Mr. Piper were among the first selected to go. The train conductor had intimated to the boat captain that the manager was anxious to start on a search for missing members of his company who had been in Hannibal.
"We'll do all we can for you," the captain promised. "It's a terrible time, and it's going to be worse. I don't say that to alarm you, but so that you may know what you have to face."
"Thank you," spoke the manager. "I realize that it isn't going to be easy."
The stream, up which the boat had come was not, ordinarily, navigable by such large boats, but the rising waters had turned it from hardly more than a brook into a raging river, pouring into the Mississippi itself.
​"Some power to this current," remarked Joe, as he and Blake, having stowed aboard their baggage and cameras, stood at the rail, looking over the side.
"Wait until you get on the Mississippi," remarked a deck hand. "Then you'll see some water."
And the boys did. As they emerged around a bend in the high banks, they had a good view of the Father of Waters as it swept on. It was almost terrifying, and the tug, though extra steam was put on, was barely able to make headway.
"It's getting worse every minute!" the captain murmured. "I don't know what we'll do if this keeps on!"
It was not far, from where the train was stalled, to Hannibal, but the tug was over an hour in making it. The lower part of the town near the river bottom, was under water, but the residential section had, so far, escaped, being built back on high ground.
"Now I'll go back after the others," said the captain, when he had made a landing, not without some difficulty, at a temporary dock.
"And we'll see if we can get into a hotel," suggested Mr. Ringold, "though I guess most of them will be over-crowded."
This was found to be the case. Many persons ​had been driven from their homes, and forced to go to the hotels, and, as several of these hostelries had been rendered uninhabitable, those that escaped the flood were taxed to the limit of their capacity.
"It's a good thing my other actors decided not to come along," remarked the manager, as he and the boys, with Mr. Piper, found that all the accommodations they could get were two small rooms, fitted up with cots. "But we won't be here any longer than we can help. I'm going to charter a boat, and start on the search for the missing ones."
"And if this rain ever lets up we'll get some pictures," declared Blake.
At the hotel were many whose homes had either been washed away, or rendered uninhabitable, and they were being cared for by the relief committee, that had been hastily formed. Most of these persons were poor, having their homes in the lower section of the city, and many pathetic stories were told. There had been some lives lost, and a number had been injured by being thrown into the water, and struck by floating debris.
"Now the first thing to do," said Mr. Ringold, after the party had eaten a hasty meal, "is to find out where our friends were last seen. Then ​can start on the hunt. And the next thing is to get a boat. I'll charter a big motor craft, if I can find one, and we'll live aboard her, taking pictures, and conducting the search."
The missing company of moving picture actors and actresses had been stopping at a hotel in Hannibal. But this hotel had been abandoned, and it was not until late that afternoon that a former clerk could be located.
"The moving picture players?" he repeated in answer to questions from Mr. Ringold. "Oh, yes, I remember them very well. We all liked them."
"But what happened to them?" asked the manager, anxiously.
"They all went out together, one day about a week ago," the clerk replied. "The river wasn't as high then as it is now, but it was bad enough. They went off in a small motor boat, and said they were going to one of the lower river islands, to take some scenes. That is the last I heard of them."
"Then they didn't come back?" asked Joe.
"No, the river rose suddenly that afternoon, and we had our own troubles here. I heard nothing more of the players."
"Then they might have been swept on down stream?" suggested Blake.
​"I'm very sorry to say that's my opinion," spoke the clerk. "Still, they may have been picked up, and saved. It's hard to get any communications through, as so many wires are down. That's all the information I can give you."
"Thanks; now we'll start on the search," spoke Mr. Ringold. "Perhaps you can tell me where I can hire a motor launch."
This the clerk was able to do. A man had a large craft he was willing to charter, though he wanted a heavy price for it.
"But boats are scarce," he declared, "and they're badly needed in the rescue work."
"That's what we want this one for," said Mr. Ringold. "Now we'll get her into commission."
The Clytie, which was the name of the craft, was roomy enough to accomodate the two boys, Mr. Piper and the manager. Blake and Joe had learned to run a gasoline launch, and Mr. Ringold himself was an expert motorist, so there would be no need of a helper.
"But you want to look out for treacherous currents," the owner of the craft warned them. "The river is worse than it's been in years. And remember, you've got to pay the bill if the boat is damaged."
Putting the boat into commission was not so quickly accomplished as Mr. Ringold had hoped. ​There were many things to be done, and, at the last moment some repairs had to be made.
The rain stopped unexpectedly the day after the arrival of our friends in Hannibal, and Blake and Joe, hiring a rowboat, went out to get some moving pictures. They secured some fine views, but coming back they nearly had an accident. For their boat was caught in a cross-current, and would have been upset but for the prompt work of Blake, who swung it around and out of danger in time.
"Well, I guess we're ready, boys," announced the manager, tvo days after he had hired the motor boat. "We'll start out this morning. We've got plenty of food, and other supplies, in case we find the missing ones."
"And we've got plenty of films for pictures!" cried Joe, as he and Blake took their places. The rain still held off, and there were hopes that it would clear long enough for the flood to subside. But this was doubtful.
The Mississippi was still a raging torrent, but the Clytie was a stanch craft, and with care, would be able to navigate the turbulent stream.
"All aboard!" cried Joe. And thus their started on the trip.