Escape Into the Night

by Lois Walfrid Johnson

  “Both of his parents died?” Libby asked.

  “Within a few days of each other. They died of cholera.”

  Libby knew about that dreaded disease. Sometimes it wiped out entire families—or left only one or two members of the family to struggle on with life.

  “Caleb was only four years old. For a while we stayed where I lived after my husband died. Then I needed to earn more—to set money aside for Caleb growing up. We came here.”

  For a time Libby was silent, punching her dough until finally Granny said, “That’s enough. You don’t want to kill it.”

  Libby laughed, but she was thinking about Caleb. “I still say he’s the strangest boy I ever met.”

  “No,” Granny said, and her voice was soft again. “You just have to understand Caleb. You need to understand what he believes in.”

  “What does he believe in?” Libby asked.

  Granny only smiled. “I think you need to ask Caleb.”

  There it was again—something mysterious about the boy. From Granny, Libby learned that he was fourteen, almost fifteen, only one year older than she. Libby also knew how Caleb looked. Blond hair that fell over his forehead, close to his blue eyes. Almost the same height as she was, but stronger and quick.

  Beyond that, Libby knew almost nothing. What was it about Caleb that she couldn’t understand? Whatever it was, Libby knew she’d get no more information from Granny. In that, too, Granny and Caleb were alike.

  “Have you fed your dog tonight?” Granny asked.

  Libby shrank back. No, she hadn’t. How did Granny know about that?

  “I saved some leftovers for him,” Granny said as she went to find the bowl. “Tell you what. You come down here every morning and every night. I’ll give you what you need.”

  “Thanks, Granny.” Libby scooped up the bowl. Once again she felt embarrassed. Embarrassed that she had forgotten about her own dog. Embarrassed that she had so much to learn.

  How can I be so helpless? Libby wondered as she left the galley. But inside, she was changing. I’ll learn, she thought. I’ll surprise them all!

  On the way up the steps to the hurricane deck, Libby met Caleb. Stopping on the narrow stairway, she cut off his escape.

  “You know that man who dropped the wood?”

  Caleb nodded.

  “I don’t think he was a man at all.”

  “Oh?”

  In the eerie light of the pine torch, Libby saw Caleb rest his hand on the railing. His face held no hint of a secret.

  “He wasn’t a grown man,” Libby said. “But he was tall and about your age.”

  Without speaking, Caleb waited.

  Libby hurried on. “He looked like someone I’ve seen before.”

  “He did?” Caleb asked.

  This time Libby recognized Caleb’s game—asking questions, instead of giving answers.

  “Why is Jordan on board?” she asked.

  On the railing Caleb’s hand tightened. No other movement gave away his surprise.

  “Why do you think you saw him?” Caleb’s voice still sounded calm, as though whatever she answered wasn’t very important. “It was dark, you know, and there were a lot of people.”

  “But Jordan was with them,” Libby answered. “I’m sure of it.”

  She leaned forward, trying to see Caleb’s eyes. Not even an eyelash flickered.

  “By the way,” he asked, “have you walked your dog today?”

  Libby flared up. “I’ll walk my dog when I want to!”

  Caleb grinned. “I thought you asked me to help you.”

  Libby whirled around. She was all the way up the steps before she realized Caleb had tricked her again.

  He’s outsmarted me at least three times! How could I let him do that to me?

  Libby made up her mind. He wasn’t going to fool her even one more time!

  Whatever game you’re playing, Caleb Whitney, I’m going to find out what it is!

  CHAPTER 10

  Libby’s Choice

  When Libby reached her room on the texas deck, Samson waited outside. Seeing Libby, the dog leaped to his feet. His great mouth spread wide, as though in a smile. With a soft “Woof!” he welcomed Libby home.

  Suddenly she felt ashamed. Samson really was a nice dog, and she hadn’t even remembered to feed him.

  Kneeling down, Libby reached out her hand to stroke the dog, as she put down his dinner. When Samson licked her face, Libby scrambled out of the way. She wasn’t quite ready for that!

  As though he were starving, Samson gobbled up the food. Again, Libby felt ashamed.

  “I’ll do better, Samson,” she promised. “I’ll remember after this.”

  She also remembered to take him for a walk. With the great black dog at her side, Libby strolled up and down the riverfront next to the Christina. Each time she gave a slight tug on the leash, Samson obeyed.

  The dark waters of the Mississippi River flowed silently past her father’s boat. The torch still flickered, casting an eerie light. For the first time that evening the wharf was quiet, and so was the city of Alton. Even the oil lamp that often burned in the large cabin of the Christina offered no light.

  “C’mon, Samson,” Libby said after a time. “We better go in.”

  The moon was up now, and its light reached where the flickering torch did not. Just then Libby caught a movement on the texas deck outside Pa’s cabin. One shadow—no, two—crept close to the wall. Seeming to glide along, the shadows stepped onto the hurricane deck, then started down the stairway.

  The first shadow was halfway to the deck just below when moonlight lit his face. Caleb! Libby knew there was something he was trying to hide. Something? Or someone?

  When Caleb moved on, the second shadow passed into the moonlight. Jordan! Libby was sure of it! How did he manage to escape from the slave trader who owned him? Had Jordan and Caleb gone to Pa’s cabin, but found he had stepped out?

  With a warning hand on Samson’s head, Libby crouched down next to a pile of freight. In the darkness she strained to see. If she was going to find out what Caleb was doing, she had to know where he went. If the dog barked … but Samson didn’t.

  Soon the two boys reached the main deck. Turning, they crept back under the overhang along the side of the boat. When they disappeared through a doorway, Libby ran for the gangplank. On board, she tied Samson’s leash to the railing and raced after the boys. Moments later, she slipped into the engine room.

  From somewhere deep in the room came the clank of metal against metal. As Libby crept toward the sound, she heard voices.

  Slowly, quietly, Libby crept forward. When she peered around a boiler, Jordan stood with his bare foot next to a block of wood. One leg-iron circled his ankle. Another lay on the floor.

  Only two days before, Libby had seen Jordan’s leg-irons up close. The irons looked like handcuffs, but were used around ankles instead. Now the chain between Jordan’s feet was broken. Two cloth rags told Libby that he had tied the ends of the chain around each ankle. Somehow, somewhere, Jordan had found a jacket and pants long enough to hide the leg-irons.

  “Hold still again.” Caleb wedged a padded cloth between the iron circle and Jordan’s skin.

  Watching them, Libby wondered again how Jordan had managed to escape. How had he reached the Christina with the heavy irons around his ankles?

  Using a hammer, Caleb pounded a cold chisel, cutting the rivet that held the leg-iron together. Before long, Jordan’s second leg-iron fell away.

  “You made it this far!” Excitement filled Caleb’s voice. “Tomorrow we’ll take you to a safe place up the river.”

  A wide grin flashed across Jordan’s face. As if throwing off all the suffering he had known, he raised his arms in triumph. Standing tall, he stretched as high as he could reach. Again he reminded Libby of royalty.

  Tears welled up in Libby’s eyes. She wanted to rush forward. She wanted to celebrate Jordan’s escape from his cruel owner. Instead she remembered. I’m not supposed
to be seeing this!

  Quickly Libby backed away. She had almost reached safety when she bumped into an oilcan. When it clattered against metal, Libby started to run.

  “Stop!” Caleb called after her.

  As she kept running, Caleb called again. “I see you, Libby! Stop!”

  His voice was low, and Libby knew he didn’t want to be heard. Yet Caleb expected her to obey.

  When he caught up, he grabbed Libby’s arm, and she had to stop. “What did you see?” he asked.

  “N-n-n-nothing,” Libby stuttered.

  “You’re lying. What did you see?”

  Libby had no choice but to tell him. “I saw you take off Jordan’s leg-irons. I saw Jordan stand tall, excited that he’s gotten this far. But if he’s found, Pa could go to prison for hiding a runaway slave on his boat.”

  Caleb loosened his grip on Libby’s arm. “So you understand, after all.”

  “I understand,” Libby said softly. “I wish I didn’t.”

  “Then you know the cost,” Caleb answered. “Will you keep the secret?”

  Again Libby thought of her father. “I don’t know if I can keep the secret.”

  “You can’t tell anyone!” Caleb told her. “If you do, Jordan’s life is in danger!”

  Libby straightened to her full height. Up till now she had felt awkward about being almost the same height as Caleb. For the first time she felt glad.

  “Don’t you tell me what to do, Caleb Whitney. I won’t listen to you—not ever!”

  Libby turned and broke into a run. Near the gangplank she snatched up Samson’s leash. By the time they reached the texas deck, Libby was panting. Only then did she realize that Caleb hadn’t followed her.

  When she opened the door of her room, Samson stayed on the deck, as though unsure what to do. Until now Libby had never allowed him past the threshold. This time Libby urged the dog inside. “Go on. It’s all right.”

  When Samson dropped down next to her bed, he took nearly every inch of the floor. It was just as bad as Libby had expected. But tonight she didn’t care. She just wanted the dog beside her.

  By the light of the moon, Libby slipped into bed. Lying there, she looked up to a ceiling she couldn’t see.

  Jordan is safe now! Libby hoped it would be forever. But then she felt uneasy.

  Jordan still needed to reach some place far away from slave catchers. Perhaps he could hide in a northern state, but greater safety lay in Canada. That meant he would have to travel all the way across Illinois to reach a steamer captain on Lake Michigan. Hiding during the day, he would move on at night. Whether there was dry land, swamp, lake, or river, Jordan would have to go across, around, or through.

  Always someone would follow: a slave catcher greedy for the reward his capture would bring, a man with dogs trained to sniff out Jordan’s scent. Like a criminal Jordan would be chased and hunted. Every moment of the day and night he would need to think not only of his own safety but also of the people who helped him.

  With all her heart Libby wanted Jordan to reach safety. Each time she tried to fall asleep, Libby remembered the evil face of the slave trader—the cruelest man Caleb knew. If Jordan went back to that owner, he would beat Jordan, possibly to death. Libby dreaded the terrible thought.

  Then she remembered the fugitive slave law and her worry about Pa. Caleb said I can’t tell anyone. Does that anyone include my own father?

  In spite of their disagreements, Libby wanted to be friends with Caleb. She wanted him to like and respect her. If I tell Pa, what will Caleb think?

  The March night felt cold, and there was no heat in Libby’s room. She drew the quilts over her head, but the cold in her bones came from something worse than the night air. I didn’t know that being a never-give-up family would cost so much.

  CHAPTER 11

  Code of Honor

  As the rising sun lit her room, Libby woke to the motion of the boat. She wasn’t sure when the Christina had left Alton. Half in and half out of sleep, she listened to the engines hum and the great paddles slap against the water.

  Then, as Libby came fully awake, there was something she knew. Pa is my father—my family. When I came to live on the Christina, we promised to help each other. A never-give-up family sticks together. I owe Pa more than I owe someone who might be a friend.

  The moment she was dressed, Libby searched out her father. She needed to talk to him now, even before breakfast. When she found him in his cabin, they sat down at the large table.

  A strand of Pa’s hair fell down over his forehead, and he pushed it back. As always, Libby felt proud of him. But there was something more. After all the years when I hardly saw him, I don’t want anything to separate us. Not even my fear of what Caleb thinks.

  Libby started by telling about the large wooden box dropped on the Christina’s deck. She told how she had watched that box being loaded onto the train at Gulfport.

  Giving her every bit of his attention, her father listened. “Go on, Libby,” he said. “What else do you want to tell me?”

  Libby skipped over the slave auction and went straight to the night before. “I saw a runaway slave, Pa—a fugitive. I saw Caleb take off his leg-irons.”

  “You’re sure that’s what they were?”

  Libby reached for a piece of paper and a pen. Glad for the art lessons she’d had, she dipped the steel point into ink and quickly drew a picture.

  Captain Norstad leaned forward. “Those are leg-irons, all right. It’s hard to remember that only a few days ago you didn’t know about the fugitive slave law.”

  He studied the drawing. “Can you tell me how you found out what leg-irons are?”

  Libby felt the warm flush of embarrassment creep into her face. That part of the story—seeing Jordan at an auction—she hadn’t planned to tell. If she did, would Caleb lose his job?

  As she wondered what to say, someone knocked on the door. Libby felt relieved.

  “Come in,” her father called.

  Caleb stood there. Seeing him, Libby’s relief vanished.

  “Do you want to talk to me?” the captain asked as Caleb drew close to the table.

  “In a minute, sir.” Caleb looked from one to another. Then his glance dropped to the table. In full sight lay Libby’s drawing.

  Quickly Libby laid her hand across the picture. But it was too late. Looking up, she saw Caleb staring at her, his eyes bright with anger.

  “What is it, Caleb?” The captain leaned back in his chair, as if he hadn’t noticed a thing.

  But Libby knew better. Her father’s brown eyes took in everything. In her entire life Libby had never fooled him once.

  “Could I speak with you alone, sir?” Caleb asked.

  “What would you like to talk about?” the captain answered.

  “I’d rather not say, sir.” Caleb’s gaze flicked over to Libby, then back to the captain.

  “It’s all right, Caleb,” Captain Norstad said.

  The boy shook his head. “I’ll wait, sir.”

  “It truly is all right.” As if wanting to be sure Caleb understood, the captain sounded strong and confident.

  But Caleb’s eyes were filled with doubt. Never before had Libby seen him hesitate before making up his mind.

  In the silence a clock ticked. Libby’s thoughts raced ahead. Caleb knows so much. Is he what they call a railroad conductor?

  Finally Caleb spoke. “I don’t trust Libby, sir.”

  “But I do,” the captain answered.

  For a moment longer, Caleb waited. “We’ve taken on a valuable book with black covers,” he said, as though speaking against his will. “The label is blurred, and I don’t know where to send it.”

  “Be so good as to bring the book here,” Captain Norstad answered.

  “Now?” Caleb looked shocked.

  “Right after breakfast. Be very careful about the book’s safety.”

  For the first time since Libby met him, Caleb could not hide his feelings. As if hoping the captain would
change his mind, the boy backed out of the room.

  Even that bothered Libby. She realized that no one else took as much freedom as Caleb when talking to her father. Like a green-eyed caterpillar, envy wormed its way into Libby’s mind. She envied Caleb’s relationship with her father.

  As though understanding her thoughts, Captain Norstad turned back to Libby. “There’s something we need to talk about—what it means to trust one another. Do you trust me?”

  Libby sighed. “I want to. It’s the reason I came to talk with you, but—” She stopped, afraid to go on.

  “But what?”

  “Caleb doesn’t trust me.”

  “That’s something else,” her father answered.

  “Is it?” Suddenly Libby felt angry. Angry about all the things she didn’t understand. All the things that made her afraid. Angry, even, at the bond between her father and Caleb.

  Before she could hold back her words, they tumbled out. “Why do you like Caleb more than me?”

  “I don’t like Caleb more than you.” Pa’s voice was quiet but firm. “I love you both—each in your own way.”

  As though thinking about how to explain, the captain stood up and walked around the room. Finally he stopped next to Libby’s chair. When she refused to look at him, he reached down and cupped her chin in his hand. Gently he lifted it.

  “Look at me, Libby.” He waited until she turned her gaze to his.

  “I love you as a daughter, Libby. You are priceless to me. I also love you as a person—a very special person.”

  Like a dam before a great river of water, something inside Libby broke into pieces. In those endless months between visits she had built a wall between herself and her father. As long as she could remember, Libby had wanted his love.

  Still she held back, dancing away from that wounded place deep within. “But Caleb? You seem to—” Libby struggled to find the words. “You seem to trust him.”

  The captain nodded. “I do. I would trust Caleb even with my life.”

  “Your life?”

  “Yes, I would. I think I’d better explain.”

  Sitting down at the table, her father faced Libby again. “When Caleb came on board, I started him out with easy jobs, things he could do as a cabin boy. Soon—”