I thought I could do whatever I set out to do. Jordan knows more about rescuing his family than any of us. And he knows he can’t do it without God. Libby’s cheeks burned with shame just remembering how sure of herself she had been.
She still felt uncomfortable with Caleb. Because she knew he didn’t want her along, there was something stiff and awkward between them. Now a nagging thought entered Libby’s mind. Caleb doesn’t think I can do it. Maybe he’s right.
Yet there was a question Libby needed to ask. “Did you mean it when you told Jordan he could lose his life?”
“I meant it,” Caleb answered as though he had no doubt about his words.
“But for Pa—if he got caught with a fugitive, it would be fines or imprisonment. Maybe losing the Christina.”
Caleb nodded. “He’s taking a risk for something he believes in. A risk he doesn’t have to take.”
“And for Jordan—” Libby’s voice trailed off. “It could be his life?”
“He’s a fugitive,” Caleb reminded.
“But our founding fathers fought for life,” Libby said. “That’s exactly what the men who signed the Declaration of Independence wanted—Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”
More than once during their history lessons, Pa had talked about the document these men had signed. Now, as though it could give Jordan safety, Libby repeated their words. “‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal—’”
Caleb joined her. “‘That they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights—’”
“‘That among these are Life—’” Libby stopped, unable to go on. This last week, life had become very precious to her.
“Are there many runaway slaves who go back for their families?” Libby asked when at last she spoke.
“It’s unusual. Sometimes a man escapes and works hard to buy the freedom of his wife and children. But now, since that 1850 fugitive slave law, slave catchers have been chasing fugitives all the way to Canada. It’s mighty hard for a fugitive to go back.”
“Caleb, how do you know if it’s really God talking to Jordan?”
“I watch to see what happens,” Caleb said. “I want to know if it’s something good, like God’s protection. If Jordan is hearing the Lord, it should help people, not hurt them.”
“So it turns out that Jordan has done the best thing?” Libby asked.
Caleb nodded, but Libby still felt scared. She remembered Jordan’s owner, the cruel slave trader. “Is Jordan going to have trouble with Riggs again?”
To Libby’s surprise Caleb started pacing the floor in much the same way Jordan had. That worried Libby even more. Usually Caleb stayed calm even when really awful things happened. Now he was clearly nervous about what Jordan planned to do.
“Riggs is a really big slave trader, Libby. He’s a rich man with lots of property. I’m surprised he’s chased Jordan as much as he has. He hasn’t got time to run around after one slave, unless—”
A dark, angry look came into Caleb’s eyes.
“Unless what?” Though Libby wanted to know, she dreaded the answer.
Caleb stopped pacing. “Remember how Riggs said, ‘I never had a slave get away from me—alive, that is!’ Riggs might have a special hatred for Jordan because he did get away. If it becomes a matter of revenge—”
“Riggs could chase Jordan to the ends of the earth,” Libby said slowly, disliking even the sound of her words. “You mean Riggs might want to prove to himself that no one can get away from him?”
By the set of Caleb’s chin, Libby knew that was exactly what he meant.
Then there was something else Libby knew. She remembered why she liked Caleb. In spite of their disagreement about whether she could go along, they seemed to understand each other. Not since the reporter interviewed him had Libby felt so good just being with Caleb.
Less than an hour later, the Christina’s whistle blew for Burlington. Near where the gangplank would go down, Libby and Jordan waited.
As the steamboat came about for the landing, Libby glanced down at the river only a foot or so below the edge of the deck. With no railing between her and the water, she was careful to stand back.
From her earliest memory Libby’s parents had warned her about the dangers of the narrow strip of water between the boat and shore. More than once she had heard stories about someone who fell in, never to rise again. Though Libby was thirteen and tall for her age, the murky depths of the river were well over her head.
Growing more and more impatient, she looked around, searching for Caleb. “Where is he?” she asked Jordan.
But Jordan only shrugged. “We can’t look like we is together, you know.”
While Libby and Jordan waited, other passengers gathered around. The man closest to the edge of the deck seemed most anxious to leave. Standing with his back to Libby, he wore a hat and long coat in spite of the warmth of the morning. With his highly polished shoes, he looked like a businessman returning home after a trip.
With her deep whistle sounding, the Christina drew close to the waterfront. Near Libby, one of the deckhands picked up a landing line. With one end of the rope attached to a cleat on the deck, he wrapped the other end in a coil around his shoulder and elbow.
The moment the gangplank dropped down, the deckhand raced up the plank. In quick, sharp jerks the rope played out behind him.
Again Libby stepped back, but the businessman moved forward. Near the edge of the boat he stood, eagerly looking at the town.
Just then the rope jerked. Snapping tight, it slapped the man across the back of his legs. Whap!
Suddenly the man lost his balance. Falling forward, he landed hard, with his stomach hitting the edge of the deck. In the next instant he somersaulted into the dark water between the boat and shore. A moment later he disappeared.
Libby gasped. Around her, people cried out. Had the man’s breath been knocked out of him? Before Libby could even think what to do, Jordan rushed past her. Kneeling down on the gangplank, he waited.
After what seemed a lifetime, a head rose to the surface—a head with short, closely cut hair. The man’s face was turned toward shore.
Jordan called to him, “Here!” Stretching out his hand, Jordan reached across the water.
As though straining toward the sound of Jordan’s voice, the man lifted an arm covered with a heavy coat.
His clothes, Libby thought. His shoes weighing him down. He’s got only one chance.
“Here!” Jordan called again.
As he stretched still farther, Libby gulped. If he falls in—one slip—
Quickly Jordan lay down on the gangplank. Again he stretched as far as he could go. This time he grabbed onto the man’s hands. With a mighty heave, Jordan pulled him up till he lay across the gangplank.
For a moment the man clung to the board, trying to catch his breath. Then Jordan stood up and helped him to his feet. As though unable to stand by himself, the man bent double. Guiding him by the arm, Jordan led him the rest of the way to the Christina’s deck.
Even when Jordan let go, the man did not stand up. Still in pain, his shoulders twisted. At last he slowly straightened, facing Jordan.
“It’s you!” the man exclaimed.
As if he had been burned, the man drew back. Without another word, he stalked off. A moment later he disappeared in the crowd of passengers.
“What an ungrateful person!” Libby exclaimed.
“Maybe,” Jordan said calmly.
But Caleb was there now, and Libby told him the whole story. “That man had his breath knocked out. His clothes and shoes weighed him down. He might never have come back up, even a second time.”
Listening closely, Caleb agreed with Libby about the man’s close call. But Libby was angry now.
“You saved his life, Jordan! And all he said was ‘It’s you!’”
As though it didn’t matter, Jordan shrugged aside the whole thing. “Me and Caleb needs to go,” he said inst
ead.
Lowering his voice, he spoke to Libby. “We meets you at the farm.” Turning, Jordan started down the gangplank.
Then Caleb stood in front of Libby. As she looked into his eyes, Libby knew that moment when she and Caleb seemed to understand each other was gone. Instead, she saw the stiffness that told her Caleb didn’t want her along.
When his gaze met hers he said, “Don’t take any chances, Libby. We want you back safe.”
Then he too was gone.
As Caleb and Jordan started up a Burlington street, Libby watched them go. Each boy carried only a bag on his back. They walked separately, as they usually did when surrounded by people they didn’t know. Now and then, Caleb turned just slightly, as though keeping an eye on Jordan. Just as often Jordan glanced over toward Caleb.
I hope they’re okay, Libby thought. It frightened her just thinking about all the things that could happen to them.
Behind the two boys, other people followed the passengers already on shore. Then roustabouts began unloading freight.
Caleb and Jordan were still in sight when a man hurried past Libby and down the gangplank. The man wore a business suit and hat and seemed familiar. Then, as he reached the first warehouse on the riverfront, he turned just slightly. For the first time Libby saw his face.
The man who fell into the water! The man Jordan rescued!
Libby felt amazed at how fast the man had changed clothes. He was nearly two blocks away when Libby noticed something. He’s not carrying a suitcase or carpetbag. And when he stood near the gangplank he had no baggage. Yet Libby felt sure the man was leaving the Christina for good.
Like a needle poking into her skin, a question jabbed Libby’s mind. Where did he get the dry clothes?
Her thoughts leaped ahead. His hair is so short, it would have dried fast.
Short hair. Hair that has grown. If someone had one side of his head shaved—if it started to grow out, and he cut the other half to match—
The escaped prisoner! The man I saw in Prescott. Sam McGrady!
So! He stole more clothes. Libby wondered which passenger would be angry now. Then she realized something much worse. If that man is Sam McGrady, he’s hurrying up the hill after Caleb and Jordan!
Without another thought, Libby raced down the gangplank after the boys. By the time she reached the center of town, she was out of breath, and her side ached.
The escaped prisoner was nowhere in sight. Neither were Caleb and Jordan.
Just then Libby heard the Christina’s final warning bell. She had been so concerned about warning Caleb and Jordan that she hadn’t even heard the earlier signals. Now she had no choice but to hurry back to the boat.
“Forty miles to Keokuk,” Pa told Libby. “Three and a half hours or so.”
Standing on the main deck with people all around them, Pa said no more. But Libby knew what he was talking about.
“If all goes well, you’ll meet about the same time,” he said quietly.
In the hour before they left the Christina, Caleb and Jordan had met in the captain’s cabin. Pa had agreed that their plan was a good one—as safe as something like this could be.
Now excitement filled Libby. I really get to help with Jordan’s family! She still found it hard to believe that she was going along.
Then she looked up at her father. When she saw the love in his eyes, she remembered how Gran felt about Caleb and the Underground Railroad.
“I’ll be careful, Pa,” Libby promised.
Her father smiled. “Please do. You’re the only one I have left.”
Then a passenger wanted to talk to Pa, so Libby searched out Gran in the pastry kitchen. She found Samson there too, sitting on his haunches just outside the door.
“Will you feed him while I’m gone?” Libby asked, and Gran nodded.
Her smile was as warm as her kind blue eyes. “God go with you, Libby.”
But when Gran hugged her, Libby knew. Caleb’s grandmother already looked forward to that moment when all of them returned.
Standing high on the hurricane deck, Libby looked down over the railing to the river far below. Deep and dark it seemed now, just like the time ahead. Libby wished she could see through to the end—to know that Jordan and his family would reach the Christina safely. But the future was filled with dangers Libby could not know. She only knew that she had to listen to Caleb and Jordan and pay attention when Jordan felt uneasy.
More than once since Libby met him, Jordan had felt that uneasiness. Libby knew it was not just a worried feeling, but a lack of God’s peace. Both Caleb and Libby had learned to respect the way God gave direction to Jordan.
Libby still felt surprised that Jordan believed God wanted her along. Why? she wondered. The day in which Libby thought she could do whatever she set out to do seemed far in the past. Now she had no doubt about all the things she could do wrong.
The whole thing seemed strange to Libby. Maybe God likes it when people ask for His help. As she thought about it, she began praying. “Lord, what do You want me to do? Will You show me?”
Then, as if it had happened only a minute before, Libby remembered the day she sat on deck, drawing passengers. When Caleb saw one of her sketches, he said, “It’s good—really good!”
He had even told Libby, “Maybe your drawing ability will help us free Jordan’s family. I don’t know how, but let’s think about it.”
Since then, Libby hadn’t had much time to think about anything, let alone her drawing. Now she went into her room and took her pencils and drawing paper from her trunk. Then she found a piece of waterproof fabric made of cloth and rubber. Carefully she wrapped it around the paper.
Then Libby put on her jean skirt and her best walking shoes. In a small bag she put the package of paper, her pencils, a warm sweater, and a change of clothes in case she got wet. With that and the food Gran would give her, she was ready for her trip into northeastern Missouri.
When Libby left her room, she climbed the stairs to one of her favorite spots, the pilothouse. Mr. Fletcher, the pilot, stood at one side of the great wheel he used to steer the boat. Because of the wheel’s size, it went partway down into the floor.
In front of and above the pilot hung an arrangement of ropes and bell pulls used to signal the engine far below. Four foot pedals—two whistle and two brake pedals—were in the floor in front of the wheel. At one side, also close to the floor, was a speaking tube.
Sometimes the pilot used bells to signal the engineer. Other times he called down into the tube that was shaped like the end of a trumpet.
Mr. Fletcher turned toward Libby. “Making good time” was all he said before looking back at the river. In the weeks since she had come on board to live with Pa, Fletcher had grown used to her visits.
Libby felt relieved. If anything held them up, their timing would be wrong for meeting Caleb and Jordan at the Missouri farm.
Now Libby gazed down, beyond the bow of the Christina. As always, the excitement she felt in the pilothouse flowed into her. With it came her love for the river.
Ahead of them, the waters of the great Mississippi spread wide. Along the shore, the leaves of trees were still bright with the newness of spring.
Before long the channel narrowed. Soon the Christina rounded a bend in the river. Not far ahead, directly in her path, lay one of the huge rafts they had seen coming downstream.
When the raft entered a narrow passageway between an island and the riverbank, Libby watched the Red Shirts standing on the two ends of the raft. Each man held one of the long poles used for steering.
Beyond the raft, farther downriver, was a steamboat coming upstream. Suddenly Mr. Fletcher reached out, yanking two bell pulls. Moments later the great paddle wheels reversed, slowing the boat. Fletcher’s hands tightened on the wheel.
“That steamboat,” he muttered. “The pilot isn’t giving the raft enough room.”
In the next instant Fletcher leaped onto a brake pedal. With his other foot he slammed down a second peda
l. Long and loud the warning whistle shrieked.
“If that steamboat comes too close—” Fletcher’s face was grim. Again he sounded a warning. “Suction can pull the raft toward the steamboat. If a chain on the raft breaks—”
Libby didn’t have to be told. From what Caleb had said, a chain stretched between each of the logs on the outermost part of the raft. That chain of logs held all the other logs in place.
Again Fletcher yanked the rope signals. Leaning down, he shouted into the speaking tube. “Raft in trouble dead ahead!”
With his foot Fletcher hit the whistle pedal. But the upbound steamboat paid no attention. Closer and closer it came. As though determined to have his way, the pilot held his course.
Suddenly the raft pulled to the left. Fletcher gritted his teeth. “The suction got ’em!”
CHAPTER 10
Peddler Paul
As if the suction was growing stronger, the raft moved faster and faster. Working frantically, the Red Shirts swept the oars. But the long poles did little good.
Suddenly an outside log on the raft broke loose. As the chain of logs broke apart, more logs spun off. One after another they shot out in all directions.
Then an entire section of the raft split away. The man who stood on it jumped across the widening stretch of water to a larger piece of raft. With the Red Shirts no longer able to steer, the raft slipped directly into the path of the upcoming boat.
On the Christina warning bells clanged. More and more logs broke loose. Again Fletcher blew the whistle.
Our hull! Libby thought in panic. In spite of Fletcher’s efforts, the Christina was coming up on a piece of raft. Even one of the huge logs could break a hole in the wooden hull. In a matter of minutes, the Christina would fill with water and go down.
In the next instant Fletcher spun the wheel hard to the right. Trying to find a way around the logs, he sought open water between them and the nearby shore.
Just then the upcoming boat poured on steam. Swinging out around the logs spreading in all directions, the boat managed to slip past them.
“That steamboat is leaving!” Libby cried out. “The pilot caused the accident, and he’s leaving!”
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