254 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
[Sept. 28, 1901. 
noott. on the flood, and during the night which foLlowed 
this awful day a house went by, and a woman in the wreck 
could be heard screaming and praying." 
"Dreadful !" exclaimed the Colonel. "Couldn't they 
help her in any way?" 
""No," I replied ; "there was no boat at hand, Len said. 
The one they had had been carried of? by the flood, and 
even if there had been, it was as much as one's life was 
worth to venture out on that flood in one, even in daytime, 
and. at night, simply suicidal." 
"That's correct," said George. 
"1 suppose, of course, the poor creature was drowned ?" 
said Lacy. 
"Bej^ond a doubt." I answered. "At Riverbank the mill 
was carried off, and Mr. Lambert rescued his family from 
the second-story window of his house in a boat before 
the house went also. At Shenandoah, or Milnes, as it 
was then called, before the name was changed in the 
palmy days of the- 'boom,' the iron works and furnace 
and the entire village, with the exception of that big brick 
house surrounded with trees, with the observatory on 
top, which you all have probabJ}' noticed in passing there, 
were carried away." 
"Bitt, Commodore," protested Lacy, "I don't under- 
stand! How could that possibl}' happen? Why, the fur- 
nace is a mile inland, and the town is tip on the hills so 
high that the river would flood the whole State before the 
town could be reached. Noah's flood wouldn't be a cir- 
cumstance to it." 
"That's true," said I, joining in the general laugh that 
went round at this protest, "but at that time the town 
wasn't built on the hills, but on the river, and the furnace 
stood down about where the present rolling mill now 
stands." 
"Oh ! that was the way of it, was it?" he replied. "But 
why did they build so low. I wonder?" 
"Well, you see," said Mr. Martin, "ther' hadn't never 
b'en no high Avater before thet carried off houses an' mills, 
an' people never dreamed o' no danger; an' the furnace 
was built clost to th' river so's to load the pig iron onto 
the gunalos hand}^" 
"What was the matter with the railroad?" continued 
Lacy. 
"Ther' wasti't no railroad then," Mr. Martin replied. 
"That was before the railroad was built," the Colonel 
added, "and at that time the entire output of the furnace 
was boated down the river to the railroad at Riverton or 
Harper's Ferry." 
"Was anybody drowned there, I wonder?" Mr. Martin 
continued. 
"I don't know ; I have never heard," I replied. 
"I think it quite likely," the Colonel added. 
"At Riverton," I continued, "the old Manassas Gap 
Railroad bridge, with its trestlework approaches, was car- 
ried out, and the track on that high 'fill' along North Fork 
washed out almost to the depot, fully half a mile, and 
the " 
"Great Scott, Commodore!" Lacy protested, "that 
bridge's 40ft. above the water." 
"Yes, perhaps it is," I admitted, "but the rise was 47ft. 
at that point, as afterward marked and measured on the 
side of the mill, a couple of hundred yards above the 
bridge." 
"Was the mill carried off?" 
"No, but it was damaged to the extent of about $5,000." 
"Was anybody drowned there?" queried Mr. Martin. 
"No," I replied, "but there were several narrow escapes. 
The rise was very rapid. For a while it was at the rate 
of a foot a minute, and the residence of Mr. Lent — the 
first house at the foot of the high land, on the right as 
j'ou go up into the village — was surrounded so quickly 
that the family Avere not aware that they were in danger 
until the house was surrounded and flooded, and they 
had to be roused in boats from the second-story win- 
dows." 
"I wonder " exclaimed Mr. Martin. 
"One of the citizens, Capt. Harris," I resumed, "walked 
down to the river upon a ridge, or eminence, about 8ft. 
above the water, and stood there a few minutes, watching 
the rise, and, when he turned to go back, he found that 
the water had cut him off, and that he was on a small 
island, but a little above the water. The little island was 
quickly flooded, and it was with the greatest difficulty 
that he succeeded in swimming out." 
"That was a close call," .said Lacy. 
"It surely was," assented Mr. Martin. 
"At Blakemore's, four miles above Riverton," I con- 
tinued, "there were eleven people took refuge in a house 
there, and only four of them were rescued, Dr. Roy and 
Mr. Richard Baily, of Front Royal, got iii a boat and went 
to the rescue of "the part}', and succeeded in reaching the 
house and getting scA^eral of them into the boat. You, 
understand, of course, that in a flood like this, the cur- 
rent rushes in a tremendous sweep right across the low- 
lands, and houses, mills, trees, etc., stand out like islands 
in this irresistible sweep of waters, and when you also 
consider that the water is literally covered with the wrecks 
of houses, bridges, fences, etc., together with uprooted 
trees and all sorts of driftwood, logs, etc., it is not only 
difficult, but highly dangerous, to put out in a boat and 
attempt to reach one of these houses. Well, when the 
party left the house in the boat, it was found to be 
overloaded and unmanageable. They were swept in 
among the trees which lined the river bank, and, while 
passing under a large sycamore, some one — doubtless 
crazed with fear, and undoubtedly ignorant of the man- 
agement of boats— clutched an overhanging limb and held 
on, and the boat, of course, swung round across the cur- 
rent, and was swarnped. Dr. Roy, Mr. Baily and one 
other man succeeded i^i getting into the tree, but the 
rest of the occupants of the boat were drowned. The 
three in the tree remained there all night, and were 
rescued next morning. The people gathered on the banks 
opposite them, on each side of the river, and built big 
fires and staid there all night, singing hymns and songs, 
and shouting to them words of encouragement to keep up 
their spirits and prevent their going to sleep and falling 
from the tree into the river. At earliest dawn a boat 
was manned and sent to their relief, and, after several 
fruitless attempts, succeeded in getting to them and taking 
them off, thoroughly chilled and exhau.sted, and more dead 
tlian alive," _ 
"Ther' experiences was mos' or quite as bad as our'n," 
said Mr. Martin. 
"Yes," I replied, "but tell us about your experience 
here," I continued. "We want to hear your story, and 
I've been doing all the talking myself." 
"Well, that's all right," Mr. Martin rejoined. "I'd 
ruther hear about what happened to other people any- 
ways, for I know what happened to us heer. You see, it 
was this Avay: It was a tremendjus storm, an' bed b'en 
rainin' a couple o' days steddy. The river was low, 
though, an' teams was fordin' an' doin' business at th' 
mill; wagons loadin' an' unloadin* in spite o' the rain. 
This bank Avas high then, and hadn't never b'en o\'er- 
floAved. Th' mill stood right on th' bank, an' they was 
houses aroun' Avith people livin' in 'cm, like es you see in 
enny millin' neighborhood. A gunalo lay at th' mill, an' 
Alf Kite an' a man named Aleshire bed loaded it with 125 
bar'ls o' flour to boat doAvn to market. I AVas Avorkin' 
then fur ol' Noah Kite, Avho lived jes' b'loAV th' mill, an' 
bed jes' sold th' mill to JarA'is Martin. Well, the river 
begun risin' an' kern up very fast. Es th' river come up 
th' gunalo was tied up higher an' higher, but th' people 
wasn't uneasy. By night th' river Avas up over th' bank en 
in th' ntill en th' houses, en things Avas beginnin' to look 
purty_ skeery, but still th' people didn't leave. We Avas 
gittin' skeered, though, an' I begged ol' Mr. Kite to git 
out. but he sed he'd lived ther' all his life an' th' riA^er 
hadn't ncA^er reached him afore, an' he guessed th' house 
Avould stand, an' he Avouldn't go. Ther' Avas eight of th' 
Kite fambly in th' house — ol' Mr. Kite en Mis' Khe en tAvo 
daughters, one on 'em married; Erasmus, a grown son, an' 
three boys, an' a Mr. West, of Richmond Avas ther' — he 
Avas collectin' State bank money, an' bed stopped ther' for 
th' night ; that Avas nine people in th' house. When they 
Avouldn't go, I Avaded out myself, but about dark I went 
back agen. Avadin' up to my waist to git ther', an' begged 
'em to come out, but they Avouldn't go. George Kite, one 
o' th' boys, about eleven or twelve year ol', sed he'd go, an' 
I tuk h'm on my back an' kerried him out, an' thet was th' 
last I seen of any of 'em. Some time in the night, jes' 
Avhen nobody don' knoAV nor never will knoAV, 'xceptin' 
'tAvas after midnight, th' mill Avent, an' th' house Avent, an' 
they Avas all droAvnded 'xcep' Rasmus, Avho left th' house 
afore it Avent to pieces, an' got off on a floatin' log, from 
Avhich he clum' on a straw rick, Avhich Avas found several 
miles below, in Philip Long's bottom, acrost th' river, 
from Avhich he Avas tuk a couple 0' days later. Mis' Kite's 
body Avas afterAvard found in a tree top, doAvn near Long's 
mill. Th' married daughter an' Eddy Kite an' Mr. West 
wasn't never found." 
"Couldn't the gondola be used?" asked the Colonel, as 
Mr. M. paused in his narratiA^e. "I should think they 
might have got aboard that and been saved." 
"It was used," Mr. Martin replied, "but it was of 
mighty little sarvice in such Avater. It Avas moved higher 
an' higher as th' river come up, 'til it was finally made 
fast just behind th' ol' storehouse th' miller liA'ed in, Avhich 
by noAV was full o' people, thinkin' 'twas safer'n the'r own 
houses. Es night Avore on an' th' river kep' a-risin' .A.lf 
Kite an' Aleshire dumped th' flour in th' river an " 
"Why didn't they replace the fllour in the mill?" Lacy 
interrupted. 
"Th' mill couldn't be reached," Avas the reply. "With 
the Avater comin' doAvn in sech a flood, an' all coA^ered 
with drift — trees an' houses an' bridges an' mills — it was 
a aAvful sight, I tell you ! About midnight th' parties in 
th' house — ther' was 'leven of 'em, men, Avimmen an' 
children; tAvo of 'em Avas babies in arms — lef th' house 
an' got on th' gunalo. Th' Avater was well up to th' tops 
o' th' Avinders, an' they got out by steppin' on th' winder- 
sill ari' squeezin' ottt between th' top o' the Avinder an' the 
end o' th' boat outside. It Avas pitch dark an' still a-rain- 
in'. an' th' huge piles o' drift an' big trees Avould come 
a-crashin' ag'in th' house with a noise like thunder, an' 
a-jarrin' it to its foundations, an' they feared that CA'ery 
knock 'ud be th' last. They hadn't more'n all got on th' 
boat Avhen th' house toppled over 'n' aAvay they Avent. If 
it bed 'a' b'en daytime they might 'a' stood some chance 
o' runnin' th' river in th' gunalo, an' gittin' out summers, 
but it was es "black as a black, rain}"- night cud be, an' all 
they cud do Avas to let th' boat go " 
"Why didn't they paddle the boat ashore, I wonder, in- 
stead of trying to run the river?" queried Lacy. 
"They ciidn' do nothin' Avith it, in such a rush o' Avater 
'xceptin' jus' let it run with th' flood. You see it's some 
distance acrost thet flat to high ground, an' th' water 
was rushin' an' roarin' down over th' flat th' same as it 
Avas out in th' river, 'n' all covered Avitli drift an' trees an' 
houses floatin' doAvn an' crashin' in among th' trees an' th' 
mill an' houses, Avbicb Avas standin' like islan's out in th' 
river, 'n' they cudn' do nothin' 'xcep' jes' drift helpless 
with tit' rush o' Avater. They maniged to cle'r th' trees 
along th' bank b'low th' mill, an' git out in th' river, but in 
a little Avhile th' gunalo struck ag'in a big drift among 
th' trees. Alf Kite Avas pitched overboard, an' th' boat 
Avent over him, but he kem up on th' other side, an' man- 
aged to git on th' drift. The rest o' th' party bed jest 
barely time to scramble up on th' drift afore th' gunalo 
went to pieces like kin'lin' Avood. When mornin' come th' 
people on th' bank — they Avas doAvn opposite Long's — tried 
to rescue them, but 'tAvas not untell nex' day thet they 
got off. Aleshire and Jack Stoneberger got drowned 
here in tryin' to git off." 
There Avas a pause as Mr. Martin finished his tragic 
narrative. 
"How many people, all told, were drowned from here?" 
Lacy finally asked. 
"Well, ther' Avas ol' Mr. Kite and Mis' Kite and two 
daughters an' two boys, an' Mr.' West, from Mr. Kite's 
house ; an' Jack Stoneberger an' Aleshire from th' gunalo ; 
thet Avas nine people, all told." he replied. 
"That's a terrible story," said the Colonel. 
"It is, indeed," said Mr. Martin, impressively, as he 
rose to leave for the night, "an' one thet tio one livin' 
round heer is apt to furgit soon." 
The recital of the tragedy made a deep impression on 
our minds, and, after sitting in silence for a short Avhile 
longer, while Ave finished our smoke, we quietly betook 
ourselves to our tents and turned in for the night. 
The great storm of August, 1^3, was a memorable one. 
Forming in the West India region it swept up along the 
Atlantic seaboard Avith tremendous violence, dealing death 
and destruction as it hurled itself along the coast. It 
reached the region of Virginia some time during the night 
of the 27th, and the good people of that historic old Com- 
mouAvealth awoke on Monday morning, the 28th, to find it 
raging in fury. The mountains of the Virginias broke its 
force to a great extent, and checked its inland progress, 
but clear out among their remotest fastnesses its presence 
Avas felt. It SAvept in floods and torrents over the Augusta 
county high lands, converting little brooks and dry runs 
into raging rivers ; carrying aAvay fences and outbuildings, 
and in which men, women and animals Avere caught, and 
in some instances drowned. The streets of Staunton ran 
like rivers from curb to curb, the Avater reaching to the 
hubs of the wheels of vehicles, and the loAver parts of the 
city were inundated. Avhile all day long the storm swept 
over, and the rain fell, not merely in showers, but in 
torrents, and in great, blinding sheets of water. 
We awoke at 5 o'clock on this memorable morning to 
find it raining heavily, and, as there Avas no hurry, the 
Colonel haA'ing arranged the night before Avith Mr. Mar- 
tin to have himself and Mary Lou carried over to Stanley, 
on the railroad, to return from there instead of from 
Luray, via Massanutton, and a start being out of the 
question anyhow, avc sank back into our snug little cabins 
again for a delicious morning doze of an hour or so more, 
and it Avas after 7 o'clock Avhen Ave straggled out, one by 
one, into the shelter of the fly, and it was fully an hour 
later when we finally sat doAvn to a good, comfortable 
breakfast of fried bass, bacon, fried potatoes, soft-boiled 
eggs and coffee. 
The Aveather did not improA^e as the morning AVore on. 
The storm was more Or less intermittent, seeming to come 
from beloAV, and to SAveep up the river valley in relays, 
occasionally breaking aAvay until the mountains, which 
.swept aAvay close at hand on either side, down the river 
from Us in receding perspective in tAvo long, parallel 
ranges, Ijecame visible, beneath the dense, loAV-hanging 
canopy of clouds, Avhich writhed and tAvisted overhead, 
again closing in in a den.se, drab curtain of rain, Avith 
slanting, Avavering lines, sAveeping up in "solemn grandeur, 
in Avhose steadily advancing folds the mountains receded 
from View and Avere blotted out, and even the dense forest 
which croAvned the bluff on the opposite side of the riA'er 
loomed up in Avavering outlines, vaguely distant and in- 
distinct. 
About the middle of the forenoon, Mr. Martin drove his 
big farm Avagon doAvn to the camp, and Mary Lou Avas 
lifted up and laid on a comfortable bed of straAV. The Col- 
onel bade us good bye all round and climbed up alongside 
of Mary Lou. and Avas driven aAvay. The last seen of him, 
before he was lost to vicAV in a turn of the road, he was 
standing up in the wagon, behind the driver's seat, with 
the rain streaming doAvn over his long, black, glistening, 
rubber coat, and running in streams down its folds and 
holloAVS into his shoe tops. 
We were sorry, indeed, to lose the Colonel, and bis 
genial, breezy presence Avas nn'ssed by tts for many a daj', 
and Ave felt particularly lonesome after he had left us this 
dismal, gruesome day. 
After the Colonel had gone, I put on my own rubber 
coat and sou'Avester hat, and, picking up the empty coal- 
oil can, made a pilgrimage through the storm and the 
mud to Alma, half a mile distant, to mail our letters and 
procure a fresh supply of coal oil, which, always useful 
around the camp stove, is absolutely indispensable on a 
rainy day, and I Avas Avell aAvare that there Avould be no 
more meals in camp imtil that can Avas filled — at least 
Avhile the rain lasted. 
On my return I found Lacy undergoing a tonsorial 
operation at the hands of a rather good-looking young 
felloAv, Avho had strolled itp from Alma to see the camp ; 
Avhile George, Avith his little, double-decked mcerschum in 
his mouth, Avas sitting idly by. enjoying the performance. 
He appeared to be a young man of great conversational 
ability, coupled Avith a fertile imagination, rich in sugges- 
tion and invention, Avbich placed him above the necessitj' 
of confining himself to such little details as exact facts in 
his statements, Avhile his ease and self-possession were 
only equalled by his nerve. He Avas exercising these 
little gifts Avith great fluency, as I came up and deposited 
my oil cait on the rocks alongside of the camp stove, the 
Avhile he lathered and scraped away at Lacy's face Avith 
careless ea.se. , 
He greeted me aft'ably, as I ducked in under the fly out 
of the rain, and seated myself on my camp stool, after 
hanging my dripping rubber coat on the aft standard 
supporting my tent. 
"Commodore," exclaimed George, as he removed his 
pipe from his mouth and blew the smoke in little spirals 
from his lips — "Commodore, this man says Ave'd better 
pull out of here. The river's bound to rise and will flood 
us out." 
"Yes. it Avill," replied our visitor, as he Aviped and 
closed Lacy's razor, and put it in its case. "The Avater'll 
be loft. deep all over them fields out there by night." 
"HoAV about Martin's distillery there?" asked Lacy, as 
he toweled his face, after removing the remains of the 
lather from it Avith his Avet boat sponge. 
"There won't be any distillery," he replied. "The 
ri\-er'll carry it clean, plumb off." 
"Oh, I guess not," I exclaimed, for I had by this time 
taken the measure of our man, "I have no doubt but that 
the river Avill rise several feet, but that land is higher 
than this, and is fully 20ft. above the present level of 
the river, and it isn't at all likely to be covered, nor this, 
either." . • 
"You don't knoAV this riA'cr," he continued. 
■"VVelL I'd ought to," I replied. "I've run it often 
enough to be tolerably faniiliar with, it in most of its 
aspects." 
"Well, you'll see it in a new one before many hours 
more or I miss my guess. I've seen it rise 20 or 30ft. 
many a time after a rain like this," he persisted. 
"That may be," I answered, "but it will hardly rise 30 
or 30ft. to-day. nor to-night." 
"Do you see those posts down there in the sand?" 
I admitted that they were sufficiently visible. 
"Well, sir,"' he continued, impressively, "right there 
stood one of the largest and finest flouring mills on the 
river. It was on just such a day as this " 
"Yes, I've heard that Columbian mill anecdote before," 
I interrupted, rather abruptly,, spoiling his climax, "I've 
