Escape Into the Night

by Lois Walfrid Johnson

  Her aunt glared at her. “Breathe deep, and they’ll stop.”

  As they reached the landing, Libby took a deep breath. Her father waited at the top of the gangplank, looking tall and handsome. Two men dressed in black suits, stiff white shirts, and bow ties stood next to him.

  Auntie Vi stopped Libby. “Remember now,” she said. “I’ve brought you up to be a proper young lady.”

  “Yes, Auntie.” Libby hiccuped. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Hold your breath!” her aunt exclaimed.

  All the way up the gangplank Libby held her breath. At the top her father stretched out his hand.

  “Welcome aboard, Libby!” He put his arm around her. “I’m glad we’ll be together again.”

  Captain Norstad turned to the officers next to him. “This is the very special daughter I’ve been telling you about.”

  Libby tried to smile, but she needed to breathe. “I’m glad to meet you,” she said quickly. Her words ended in a loud hiccup.

  Libby clapped her hands over her mouth. She wanted to run and hide. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. Again she held her breath, this time so long that she felt like fainting. How can I embarrass my father so?

  “Libby, stop it!” her aunt commanded. But Libby gasped with another great hiccup.

  “We’ll get you a glass of water.” Captain Norstad sounded as if it wasn’t at all unusual to have his family hiccup in front of his officers. “This is Mr. Osborne, the Christina’s chief engineer.”

  Afraid to open her mouth, Libby nodded.

  “And Mr. Bates, my first mate.”

  Mr. Bates was almost as tall as her father. When Libby hiccuped yet again, he pressed his thin lips together in a frown. It wasn’t hard to tell what he thought of her.

  By now a mask had settled over Auntie’s face. From long experience Libby knew that she had shamed her aunt. But Captain Norstad didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’ll show you Libby’s room,” he told Auntie Vi, as though nothing had happened. “You’ll feel better if you see how I plan to take care of her.”

  He led them toward the wide stairs at the front of the steamboat. Libby hurried after him. The sooner they finished this, the quicker Auntie would be on her way.

  The second level, or boiler deck, was above the large boilers that heated water and created steam to run the boat. Here Captain Norstad led Libby and her aunt through a large door.

  A long, narrow room—the main cabin—stretched from one end of the boat to another. Waiters in white coats moved about, setting the tables for lunch. Her father asked one of the men for a glass of water for Libby. As though she hadn’t had a sip in months, Libby swallowed the water in one gulp.

  Outside the cabin again, Captain Norstad led them up another stairway. When they reached the hurricane deck, Libby walked over to the Burlington side of the boat. Directly below lay the landing. Beyond that was the warehouse where the three men had crept last night.

  Again Libby wondered if her father had seen the running men and sniffing dogs. If he had, he gave no sign.

  Just then Libby noticed that her aunt was out of breath. “Pa,” she said quickly. “Auntie looks white.”

  Though Vi gasped for air, she held up her hand. “I’m fine—just fine.”

  From inside her sleeve, Auntie Vi pulled a lace handkerchief. As though using her last ounce of strength, she blotted her perspiring forehead.

  But Libby knew what was wrong. To look thin and fashionable, Auntie laced her undergarments so tight that she couldn’t breathe.

  When Captain Norstad offered his arm, Auntie Vi took it. Walking slowly, he led her up the few steps to the texas deck. Named after the state recently added to the Union, the boxlike structure held rooms for some of the crew.

  Captain Norstad had the best place of all—an apartment at the front of the texas. From the windows on the front and two sides of the boat, he could see everything that went on.

  Above this room was the pilothouse, but Libby knew her father wouldn’t take Auntie Vi up another flight of steps. Instead, he led her and Libby to the stateroom behind his.

  As Captain Norstad opened the door, Mr. Bates hurried out. In both arms he carried clothes and blankets. As he glanced toward Libby, he scowled.

  Strange, Libby thought. I just met him, but he doesn’t like me. I wonder why.

  Moments later she found out.

  “I gave you the first mate’s room,” her father said. “I want you next to me.”

  So I get the second-best room on the boat, Libby told herself and felt glad.

  After one peek through the window of Libby’s room, her aunt turned away. In spite of the coolness of the March day, she glanced up at the sun.

  “Why don’t you look around?” Captain Norstad told Libby. “I’ll take Vi down to the main deck.”

  By now Auntie’s face had changed from white to red. Bringing out a small fan, she waved it back and forth.

  Grateful to be alone, Libby walked into her stateroom. About seven or eight feet wide and six feet long, it had one bed and a few coat hooks. Beneath a mirror, a small stand held a basin, a water pitcher, and a chamber pot.

  From this place I’ll see the world! Libby’s excitement returned.

  But as Libby turned around, her full skirt filled the entire area between her bed and the washstand. Where will I put my trunk? she wondered.

  In Chicago Libby had lived in a mansion. Here, two doors led out of the tiny room, one on either side of the boat. Between those doors, the walls seemed to close in on Libby. I could fit three of these rooms into my big room. And Auntie Vi always gave me whatever I wanted!

  Feeling she couldn’t handle the small, narrow space, Libby rushed out. Like a chipmunk running for cover, she scurried into her father’s cabin. Just looking at the larger room where he lived and worked made her feel better. At least she could turn around without her skirt touching something!

  For a few minutes she stood there, drawing deep breaths. Not for anything would Libby admit how scared she felt. Scared of leaving her beautiful belongings in Chicago. Scared of all the changes in her life. Scared, most of all, by one thought. People say it’s really dangerous living on a steamboat!

  A short blast of the whistle broke into her thoughts. The signal for leaving Burlington! Libby yanked open the door.

  When she hurried outside, she crashed into a boy. As a pail flew from his hand, water covered Libby from head to foot.

  In horror she looked down. Dirty streaks of water covered her new white dress. More water dripped from her face.

  “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” she sputtered.

  “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” The boy’s blond hair fell over his forehead. Libby guessed that they were almost the same age.

  Now his blue eyes glared at her. “What are you doing, snooping around here, anyway? That’s the captain’s room—off limits if you aren’t invited!”

  Libby straightened. She was almost the same height as this good-looking boy. “I have a perfect right to be here,” she answered proudly. “I am Libby Norstad, the captain’s daughter.”

  The boy stepped back in surprise. A red flush spread across his face.

  Lifting her head, Libby tossed her long curls. “And who are you?”

  “Caleb Whitney,” he told her. “Your father’s cabin boy.” He spoke politely, but the anger did not leave his eyes. “I beg your pardon,” he added, as though knowing he had no choice.

  “I should hope so.” With all the dignity Libby could manage, she started away. But suddenly she hiccuped.

  When Caleb snickered, Libby felt even more embarrassed. Then she knew what to do. Her head still high, she turned around. “I’ll speak to my father about you.”

  Caleb’s grin faded. Standing with shoulders back, he answered, “Yes, miss.” But his voice didn’t sound as polite as his words.

  Afraid she would hiccup again, Libby turned away and swept down the steps. Not until she reached the boil
er deck did she remember.

  With a shock she realized who the boy was. Last night she had seen him twice—both times on the main deck of the Christina.

  Again she wondered what had happened to the men she saw. “I’ll ask Caleb,” Libby decided. “He works for Pa. He’ll have to tell me.”

  By the time she reached the main deck, the Christina had left Burlington. Libby found her father and aunt standing at the bow of the boat. Already the strip of water between boat and land had grown wide.

  “Libby!” her aunt exclaimed. “Whatever happened to you?”

  “I bumped into—” Libby started to put the blame on Caleb. Then she saw that her father was listening. His lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh.

  Libby didn’t know what to do. If I tell on Caleb, will he tell me about last night?

  In that instant she changed her words. “I came to say goodbye,” Libby said instead.

  Across the river from Burlington, Iowa, lay Gulfport, Illinois. As the Christina nosed into the landing, Libby saw railroad tracks and a waiting train.

  “Don’t forget,” Auntie Vi told Libby. “You always have a home with us.”

  “I know,” Libby answered softly. “Thanks for all you’ve done for me.” As she leaned forward to kiss her aunt’s cheek, Libby felt surprised at how hard it was to say goodbye. Just because I’m scared! Just because Auntie’s house seems so safe!

  Again the strange world along the Mississippi River seemed frightening. Yet Libby put on her best smile. Not for anything would she let Auntie know she had second thoughts about living on a steamboat.

  Captain Norstad led Auntie Vi toward the train. From the bow of the Christina, Libby waved as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  When the passengers had cleared the gangplank, deckhands started carrying barrels and crates. Two men slid a large wooden box across the deck. With each man taking a side, they picked up the box and carried it down the gangplank. As they set it in a wagon on the landing, the boy Libby had met came down the steps.

  By the time the deckhands returned to the boat, Caleb had taken up a post near the gangplank. Slender and self-assured, he wore the white coat and black trousers of a cabin boy.

  “Careful, careful,” he told the men as they picked up a second large box.

  This one also seemed heavy. But it was Caleb who made Libby curious. Why was a cabin boy watching over the loading of freight?

  In no time at all, the men had loaded the second box onto the wagon. As they slid a third box across the deck, the morning sun slanted against one side. The sun’s rays lit a large knothole in the wood.

  Suddenly Libby grew watchful. Did something move inside that box? Or was it my imagination?

  Again Caleb guided the deckhands. Whatever the box held, it was both heavy and valuable.

  When the men drew close to the railing, they picked up the box. With the weight balanced between them, one man backed toward the gangplank. Suddenly he stumbled over a small barrel.

  Losing his grip, he tumbled backward. As the box crashed to the deck, Libby heard a groan.

  Wanting to see more, she hurried forward. Just as quickly, Caleb stepped between her and the box.

  CHAPTER 3

  Here Comes Samson!

  When Libby tried to walk around Caleb, he stopped her. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

  Libby tossed her red curls. “I want to see what’s going on.”

  “You’re in the way,” Caleb answered. “Please step aside. We need to put that box on the train.”

  For the second time in an hour, Libby looked down her nose. “And who do you think you are that I should listen to you? A cabin boy, no less! Trying to order me around!”

  A flush of embarrassment reddened Caleb’s face. But when Libby again tried to look at the knothole, he guarded the way.

  “You take a lot of responsibility,” she said.

  “When Captain Norstad gives it to me, I take it,” he answered.

  Once more the two deckhands lifted the box between them. Walking carefully, they started down the gangplank.

  This time Libby managed to slip around Caleb and follow. When the men reached the landing, they shoved the box onto the wagon. Caleb was right behind them.

  “Go ahead!” he called to the driver.

  As the team of horses started toward the train, the two men jumped onto the end of the wagon. Libby walked alongside. Again Caleb followed her. “What are you doing, Libby Norstad?” he asked.

  Libby pretended that she didn’t hear him. The knothole in the wood no longer showed. That meant it had to be on the bottom side of the box. As Libby moved closer, she listened, but heard no other sound.

  Caleb fell into step beside her. “What makes you so snoopy?” he asked.

  “I want to know why those men have a box that says THIS SIDE UP resting on its side.”

  With a sweep of his hand Caleb pushed his hair out of his eyes. “You sure have a lot of curiosity. Does your father know you left the boat?”

  “What does that have to do with the box?” Libby asked.

  “We’re putting out in a few minutes. He won’t like it if we leave you behind.”

  “You’re just saying that!”

  “No, I’m not!”

  Gongs from the ship’s bell broke into Caleb’s words. It was a signal for departure, Libby knew. But she couldn’t remember the way the signal worked.

  Having no choice but to believe Caleb, Libby stopped. Yet her gaze still followed the wagon and its strange cargo.

  “I heard a sound,” she said.

  “You did?” Caleb stopped alongside Libby.

  “A groan. A man’s groan. I’m sure of it!”

  “You are?” Caleb also watched the boxes.

  Next to the open door of a freight car the driver stopped the wagon. The deckhands lifted the three boxes one by one and set them inside the car. When the last box was safely loaded, Caleb turned and started back to the Christina.

  “There was a knothole,” Libby said as she walked beside him. “Through the knothole I saw something move.”

  “That’s odd.” Caleb walked faster now, as if in a hurry to reach the boat. “What could be moving inside a box?”

  “I told you!” Libby was growing impatient with him. “There’s a man in the third box!”

  “It’s pretty hard to know whether it’s a man if all you saw was a knothole.”

  “Caleb Whitney!” Libby stopped, unwilling to go another step. “It isn’t just what I saw. It’s also what I heard. If you had a brain in your head, you’d know that!”

  As if ready to answer Libby, Caleb raised his chin. Instead, he glanced beyond her. Libby turned, curious about what he was seeing.

  A short distance away, the first mate stood on the deck of the Christina. Libby felt sure he had been watching them. Mr. Bates even leaned slightly forward, as if straining to listen. Why did he want to hear what they said?

  When Caleb spoke again, he seemed to have forgotten their disagreement. “You better hurry. Your father will wonder where you are.”

  This time Libby did not argue. Yet as she hurried up the gangplank, she gave one parting shot. “You are the strangest boy I ever met!”

  When Caleb grinned, it surprised Libby. He acts as if he’s gotten his way. But Libby didn’t understand why.

  In spite of Caleb’s hurry, the Christina didn’t leave port right away. As Libby and Caleb stood at the bow of the boat, he gazed toward the streets of Gulfport. “Your father’s late.”

  Turning around, Libby looked up to the pilothouse perched on top of the texas. Even from here, she could see the upper part of the large wheel that steered the steamboat. Behind it stood the pilot, ready to guide the Christina out of port.

  Libby’s father was also licensed to pilot the boat. As captain and owner of the Christina, he spent most of his time taking care of business. Yet passengers liked to see him. When they came on board, his warm welcome gave them confidence in the sa
fety of the boat.

  As the bell gonged again, Caleb pointed toward the street. “There he is!”

  With long strides Captain Norstad hurried toward the Christina. Next to him was something that looked like a great black bear.

  Libby’s heart sank. “A dog? A monstrous dog?”

  “Your father got a Newfie!” Caleb exclaimed.

  “A Newfie?” Libby hadn’t wanted a dog in the first place, and this was the biggest one she had ever seen. “What’s a Newfie?”

  “Don’t you know about Newfoundlands?” Caleb asked. “They’re draft dogs.”

  “And what is a draft dog?”

  “A working dog. For hundreds of years Newfies have pulled carts for their owners.”

  “You mean they work in harness like a horse?”

  “They use harnesses, but no reins,” Caleb told her. “They’re trained to respond to voice commands.”

  Here, too, on this side of the river, mud puddles filled the street. Captain Norstad stepped around them, but the dog didn’t. While staying at the captain’s side, the dog passed through every puddle, as if he enjoyed getting wet. Then his wet paws padded across the black dirt on the riverbank.

  Nearby, steamboats buzzed with activity, but Libby had eyes for only one thing—that terrible dog. She had no doubt as to who would be taking care of it.

  Seeing Libby, her father waved to her. “I found just what I wanted for you!”

  As though catching the captain’s excitement, the dog broke away. With quick bounds he raced up the gangplank, straight toward Libby. Leaping up, he planted his front paws on her shoulders.

  Libby staggered back, almost falling over. She tried to push the dog away.

  “Off!” the captain commanded, and the dog dropped to the deck.

  But Libby still felt frightened. Then she looked down, and her scared feelings changed to anger. The dog had left great black patches of dirt on her already wet dress.

  Sitting on his haunches, the monster stared up at Libby. Except for white patches on his chest and toes, he was completely black. His long tongue reached out, as if to say hello. But Libby wanted nothing to do with the dog.

  “What’s his name?” Already Caleb was down on his knees petting the dog.