We rushed on deck and
found that the garden had fallen in! Making our way as well as we
could toward the gaping rent in the deck, we saw that the turnip-
bed had gone down bodily into the boarder's room. He did not
hesitate, but scrambled down his narrow stairs. I followed him.
He struck a match that he had in his pocket, and lighted a little
lantern that hung under the stairs. His room was a perfect rubbish
heap. The floor, bed, chairs, pitcher, basin--everything was
covered or filled with garden mold and turnips. Never did I behold
such a scene. He stood in the midst of it, holding his lantern
high above his head. At length he spoke.
"If we had time," he said, "we might come down here and pick out a
lot of turnips."
"But how about your furniture?" I exclaimed.
"Oh, that's ruined!" he replied.
So we did not attempt to save any of it, but we got hold of his
trunk and carried that on shore.
When we returned, we found that the water was pouring through his
partition, making the room a lake of mud. And, as the water was
rising rapidly below, and the boat was keeling over more and more,
we thought it was time to leave, and we left.
It would not do to go far away from our possessions, which were
piled up in a sad-looking heap on the shore; and so, after I had
gone over to the milk-woman's to assure Euphemia of our safety, the
boarder and I passed the rest of the night--there was not much of
it left--in walking up and down the beach smoking some cigars which
he fortunately had in his pocket.
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