Chapter 30
The flood, and the barn
Summary
The rain keeps on and the stream rises toward the boxcars. Rose of Sharon goes into labour early, so the family cannot leave; Pa rallies the men to throw up a mud-and-willow levee and they work through the night, until a falling cottonwood tears it out and the flood pours under the cars. The baby is born dead. Mrs Wainwright says everybody is in the same wagon, and Ma answers that the family used to come first and does not any more: "It's anybody." Uncle John, sent to bury the dead baby in an apple box, sets it in the flood instead and tells the dead child to go down and tell them their story that way. After two days on a platform above the water the food is gone, and Ma leads them out through breast-high water to a barn, leaving Al behind. There they find a boy and his starving father, and Rose of Sharon gives the man her milk.
Plates
Illustration style
Composition
Written: 18 October 1938 to 26 October 1938 Journal entries from these days: #95, #96, #97, #98, #99, #100 Dating: bracketed between the surrounding documented chapters
From the journal
18 October 1938, Tuesday, 11:15 — Entry #95
Today a single page—the general of the rain, and the last general [Ed.—Chapter 29]. And then one more very long chapter to finish. I expect Pat to call today but he hasn’t so far. The month is flying away. Never saw time go so quickly as this spring and summer and yet the daily time has not been so quick. […]
19 October 1938, Wednesday, 10:45 — Entry #96
Wednesday today and I am a little early in starting. Play opened last Thursday in Pittsburgh. Haven’t heard how well. May hear later. Wally and Brod are not in it. Then—Pat is in S.F., but very busy. We’ll go up Friday to get him. Another note from Rodman. Still wanting material. I think I’ll tell Pat to let him look […]
20 October 1938, Thursday, 12:00 — Entry #97
A late start. After last night it is no wonder. My nerves blew out like a fuse and today I feel weak and powerless. I wish it hadn’t happened until I was through. Guess I better not press my luck. Just write today until I am tired and not force it. Got to if I don’t want to collapse. About […]
24 October 1938, Monday, 10:00 — Entry #98
Monday again and I think it is my last week. I’m almost dead from lack of sleep. Can’t go to sleep. I don’t know why. Just plan for the ending. Pat was here for the week end. He read the first part—400 pages. He is very volatile. Likes it very much, he said. I hope he doesn’t over sell* it. […]
25 October 1938, Tuesday, 11:00 — Entry #99
I don’t know whether it was just plain terror of the ending or not. My stomach went to pieces yesterday. May have been nerves. I lay down and slept all afternoon. Went to bed at 10:30 and slept all night. May be some kind of release. At any rate, I feel rested today and that is something. Don’t know how […]
26 October 1938, Wednesday, 10:30 — Entry #100
Today should be a day of joy because I could finish today—just the walk to the barn, the new people and the ending and that’s all. But I seem to have contracted an influenza of the stomach or something. Anyway I am so dizzy I can hardly see the page. This makes it difficult to work. On the other hand, […]
Source: Working Days: The Journals of The Grapes of Wrath, 1938–1941, ed. Robert DeMott (Viking, 1989).