They arrived on the island, far north of the fire. The smoky air was bearable here but definitely had an acrid scent that left Evie’s throat feeling raw. Father parked near one of the liverystables and found several young men moving in the direction of the fire.
“If I could have a word,” he called out, heading to where they were hurrying along. They stopped, and Father began speaking to them.
Evie couldn’t hear what was being said but thought it was best she wait and see what Father decided before setting up an area where they could treat patients. It wasn’t long before he returned.
“I asked them to get word to Fire Chief Runge that we’re setting up here by the livery on Island Avenue. If the fire spreads north we’ll have to move off the island, but I think we’re safe here for the time being. Let’s get the oiled canvas out and lay it down on the wagon bed. We can put patients here to examine them.” He glanced at his pocket watch. “It’s just a little after three. We should have plenty of light for several hours. Hopefully, they’ll have the fire put out by then. You can get us water over there by the horse trough. Please fill this bucket and then keep it and the ladle handy here on the back of the wagon. It won’t be as clean as I’d like, but we’ll make do.”
Evie did as he asked, making sure to rinse the dust from the bucket first. She filled the container and brought it back to the wagon just as Fire Chief Runge showed up on his inspection of the island. He stopped and spoke to Evie’s father while she arranged things for easy access. She prayed the injuries would be minimal and that they wouldn’t be called upon for life-saving measures. How she longed to be home, safe and sound. Far away from the worry of fire and certain death.
After the fire chief left, Evie went to her father. “What did he say?”
“The fire is out of control. It’s spreading fast, and they’re looking things over to see if there’s a way to stop it with a backfire. Already it’s a three-alarm affair.”
“How did it start?”
“He doesn’t know. He said that the wind is whipping it into a frenzy. Already twenty-five homes have burned down. People are moving this way toward the bridge, carrying their things with them.” He shook his head. “This definitely doesn’t bode well. I suggested he send someone to rally other doctors and nurses. He agreed to do so.”
Just then Evie noticed some of the families who were heading out. They were bound for the bridge that would allow them to cross the East Side Channel and get off Nicollet Island. Everyone carried as much as they could manage. Even the children were loaded down with multiple items. There was much sobbing, this more from the adults than the little ones.
“I wish we could do something more,” Evie said, her heart overwhelmed with grief.
“We’ll figure all of that out later,” her father assured.
A couple of men with a loaded litter made their way to the Turner wagon. “We have an injured man. He was burned fighting the fire and was overcome by smoke.”
“Put him here on the back of the wagon,” Evie’s father directed.
They did as instructed, then took up the stretcher and hurried away. Evie watched as her father cut away the man’s shirt. His chest was horribly burned, and at the sight of the charred flesh, her stomach churned. The smell was her undoing, and she vomited, barely making it a few feet away from the wagon. She looked back, but her father was fixed on examining the man.
She grabbed the ladle from the bucket of water and rinsed her mouth before rejoining him.
“The smell of burned flesh is the worst of odors. During the war there were many times when it sickened me. Don’t lose heart.”
Evie tried to calm her nerves. “Thank you for your encouragement.”
She helped him deal with the wound and did her best to forget her surroundings. Without a doubt there would be other episodes to deal with, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that his encouragement couldn’t begin to help her.
Hearing the bells and smelling smoke, Max sent one of the men to find out what was happening. Despite it being the Sabbath, they were doing inventory, hoping that by nightfall they could close the doors and secure the locks. He was closing down the mill until late fall, hopefully no longer than that. As he talked to the men who had been faithful employees, he got a sense of all that this would cost them. Some would leave the area and move on. Others would try desperately to find another position. Max promised them he would rehire them should they want to come back, but other than giving them a small stipend to help until they found work, he could do nothing.
“Fire!” The man he’d sent to check on the situation came back looking ashen and scared. “Boom Island is on fire!”
Max ran outside and found himself nearly surrounded by burning buildings. The sawmills that were built closer to the water’s edge were completely engulfed in flames.
Immediately he thought of his father and the argument he’d witnessed at church. Had Father’s cronies arranged this fire? Had he tried to stop them? The winds were picking up and fanning the flames. Max glanced at his watch. It was nearly four.
“We can water things down,” one of the men declared. “We have plenty of buckets, and there’s river water.”
“But no hydrants. The fire department probably won’t even attempt to put the fires out,” another said, wide-eyed with fear.
“It’s too late,” another man said, coming from around the building. “We’re already on fire.”
“We’ve got to get off the island,” Max told them. “At the rate that fire is spreading, we don’t have much time. Come on. I’ll grab our ledgers, and we’ll find a boat to get us to shore. It’s not that far. If we have to, we’ll swim for it.”
Max hurried back inside the lumber mill. The entire south wall was now burning, as was the roof. No doubt the wind had blown embers to further extend the fire.
A noise caught Max’s attention, and he noted two men were still up on the highest platforms on the eastside of the warehouse. “Get down here now! The whole island is going up in flames! We must get to safety!”
Again, thoughts of his father’s friends choosing to burn the mills for insurance money came to mind. Max was livid, but he had to force himself to be calm. He wouldn’t be able to think clearly if he let anger and rage be his guide.
