Escape Into the Night (9 page)

CHAPTER 8

W
hen Libby went into the cabin for supper, the broken glass had been cleaned up. Tables and chairs were upright, and the velvet drapes once more in place. A large bare piece of wood showed where the mirror had been.

Libby knew that the extra work had put the
Christina
behind schedule.
Will we still reach Alton tomorrow night?
she wondered.
If we don’t, will it make a difference to Jordan?

As soon as supper was over, Libby found Caleb on the hurricane deck.

“I know a lot of the usual commands for dogs,” he told her.

Because of the way Samson jumped up the first day, Libby often thought of him as a puppy. Other times he acted like a grown dog. To her great relief, she had already discovered he was housebroken. What else did he know?

“Here, Samson,” Caleb said, and the dog looked up at him with great wags of his tail.

When Caleb said, “Sit,” Samson sat. When Caleb said, “Stay,” the dog stayed in one place, even though Caleb walked away.

“Good dog!” Caleb praised each time Samson did something right. Caleb also discovered that Samson would stay
alongside Libby if she took him for a walk.

“I wonder what else he knows,” Caleb said. “If we had a little wagon …” His voice trailed off as he thought about it. “We do have a wagon! A small one for carrying groceries from the gangplank to the galleys. If I fix it up a bit …”

Caleb led Samson and Libby down to the main deck. When he found the wagon, Caleb used strong rope to make a padded harness. When everything was ready, he showed Libby what to do.

The harness went in front of Samson’s chest, over the top of his back, and behind his front legs. Caleb attached two long poles to the front of the cart and connected them to the harness. Then he attached a leash to Samson’s collar.

Through it all, the dog stood still, waiting patiently until everything was ready.

“He might be used to this,” Caleb said finally. “Now let’s see what he knows.”

Kneeling down in front of the dog, he motioned Samson forward with his hands. “Come,” he said, over and over.

At first Samson didn’t seem to understand. Caleb repeated the command.

“Come,” he said, still eye level with the dog. Suddenly the dog took one step toward him.

“Yay!” Caleb praised him. “Good dog, good dog!”

Once again he commanded, “Come.” This time Samson obeyed at once. Again Caleb praised him.

Standing up, Caleb took the leash. As he held it above the dog, Caleb walked forward. As though Samson had followed all his life, he padded after Caleb. Now and then Caleb gave a slight jerk on the leash to remind the dog where he should go.
Each time Samson obeyed.

Caleb gave Libby a turn with Samson, then unhitched the wagon. “His owner must have spent a lot of time training him,” Caleb said. “Samson wouldn’t know this much otherwise.”

“Aren’t you going to try more?” Libby asked.

Caleb shook his head. “I want to stop while he’s still having fun. Then he’ll want to do it again.”

Just then Libby remembered that she had planned to find out what Caleb was up to. As she sat down on a large box on one side of the boat, she asked, “What do you think happened to that young slave we saw yesterday?”

“Jordan?” Still petting the dog, Caleb sat on a small barrel. “The man who bought him is a slave trader. Of all the people I know, Riggs has the worst reputation.”

“For being cruel?” That wasn’t hard for Libby to understand.

“He doesn’t just beat his slaves because they’ve done something wrong. He beats them to make sure they
don’t
do something wrong.”

Libby had never heard of such a strange way of thinking. “So no matter how hard a slave tries to do everything right, he can’t please Riggs?”

Caleb’s blue eyes reflected his worry. “It’s as though Riggs has to prove he’s boss.”

“Aren’t there any slave owners who are kind?” Libby asked.

“Sure,” Caleb answered. “Some owners treat their slaves like family. And the house servants really are. A Negro mother brings up the master’s children. Sometimes those children feel really close to their mammy.”

“Because the mammy takes care of them all the time?” Libby understood that too.

“But is it
kind
to keep someone a slave?” Caleb asked. “And a lot of owners don’t care what happens to Negro families. They sell husbands away from wives, children away from parents.”

Libby felt like weeping again. She knew what it meant to be separated from a mother by death, from a father by distance. “If a slave runs away, the owner hires a slave catcher.” Caleb leaned forward, wanting Libby to understand. “The owner offers a big reward if the fugitive is caught.”

Now he’ll tell me! Libby felt sure she could find out whatever she wanted to know.

“Caleb,” she asked, “what did you mean when you whispered to Jordan?”

Suddenly Caleb grew quiet. “You heard me whisper?”

Libby nodded. “You said, ‘Alton. Tomorrow night. The
Christina
.’”

“You’re sure that’s what you heard?” As though it weren’t important, Caleb leaned back against the railing.

“I’m sure,” Libby answered. “And why did you bring out a different gangplank in Burlington?”

“In Burlington?” Caleb sounded like an echo.

“When the three Negro men came aboard.”

Still Caleb’s expression did not change. “Different gangplank,” he said, as if still thinking. “What do you mean by that, Libby?”

“The
Christina
has three planks. When they’re put together side by side they make a ramp.”

“Oh yeah. That was the ramp Judas went up.” Suddenly Caleb laughed. “In all the time I’ve been on this boat, I’ve never seen anything as funny as those goats running through the cabin.”

Libby laughed along with him. “It was funny, wasn’t it?” She remembered how she flung herself after the goat, how she had tumbled off when he brushed her against the wall. Now it seemed ridiculous.

Caleb’s grin lit his face. “Next time we have a goat run loose, I’m going to send you after him!”

As they kept talking, the sun set over the city of Saint Louis. The rose-colored sky felt like the warmth in Libby’s heart. Again Caleb seemed as if he could be a friend.

Yet, alone in her room that night, Libby realized something.
I still don’t know what Caleb is doing!

The next morning Libby saw men carry a large mirror on board. “I’m glad we’re in Saint Louis where I could find such a mirror,” Pa told her.

While the ship carpenter set the mirror in place, the deckhands finished loading the
Christina
. As a packet boat, she carried both passengers and freight. In addition to the goats that were now penned up, there were barrels filled with sugar, salt, and molasses. Wooden boxes held pots and pans, saws and shovels, wood stoves, candles, and soap.

Some of these needed supplies had come from the Ohio River on steamboats like the
Christina
. Other freight had come up the Mississippi River from New Orleans.

During the afternoon Libby watched from the hurricane deck as passengers streamed on board. Many of them were immigrants who planned to carve out a life in the wilderness for which the Mississippi River offered a road.

As the water in the boilers heated up, smoke poured from the tall stacks. At last the gangplank was pulled in. While
passengers found their places in the cabin or on the deck, the
Christina
steamed up the river.

Between ports Libby and Caleb were supposed to get their schooling. When Libby reached the captain’s cabin, Caleb was already there. Once again, they sat at the large table facing each other. Libby wanted to ask him questions, but there was something she had learned: Caleb would not answer unless he wanted to.

When Captain Norstad came through the doorway, Libby felt extra glad to see him. She’d ask him what she wanted to know, and she’d ask in front of Caleb.

At the first opportunity Libby began. “When slaves run away, where do they go?”

“North,” her father answered. “They follow the North Star. When they can, they cross over rivers like the Mississippi or the Ohio into free states.”

“Like Illinois?” Even as she asked, Libby watched Caleb.

Captain Norstad nodded. “From this area, fugitives often travel across Illinois to Chicago or some place near Chicago. If they reach Lake Michigan, a helpful steamer captain hides them on his boat. He takes fugitives to a place where they can pass into Canada.”

“And freedom?” Libby asked. “But how do they get this far?” Libby was still watching Caleb’s face.

“Sometimes they figure out a good escape plan and travel a long distance alone. Other times they find a free black or a white person connected to the Underground Railroad.”

“A railroad? What do you mean?” Libby was starting to think that she knew the answer.

“Usually it isn’t a real railroad, but it can be,” her father explained.
“The Underground Railroad is a secret plan to help runaway slaves reach freedom. A house that takes in fugitives is called a
station
. The person who lives there is an
agent
. Whoever leads the runaway to the next safe place is called a
conductor
.”

Aha
! Libby thought. Caleb’s face still offered no hint of what he was thinking. Yet for the first time Libby felt she had gotten the better of him. At least she was able to put some pieces together.

But then her father asked, “Are both of you ready to tell me your ideas about the fugitive slave laws?”

“I am, sir,” Caleb answered quickly.

Libby squirmed in her chair.

“Libby?” her father asked.

Nervously she pulled forward a long strand of red hair. Until yesterday she would have done anything to beat Caleb Whitney in a war of words. Today she didn’t have the heart to try.

“Libby?” the captain asked again.

As Libby twisted the hair around her finger, she decided what to say. “I’m not ready, Pa.”

“Do you need more time?”

“Even if you gave me more time, it wouldn’t help. I don’t want to talk about the law.”

“Oh?” Captain Norstad shot a glance toward Caleb, then looked back at Libby. “I think you’d do a good job of telling me your ideas. Why don’t you want to try?”