Lost in the Tunnel of Time (2 page)

Mrs. Powell came around the corner just as the bell rang to begin class, jiggling keys and balancing a coffee cup on a large stack of papers.

“Looks like I made it just in time,” she called out cheerfully. “I was making last-minute plans for our trip,” she explained as she unlocked the classroom door. “Now where did he go? He was right behind me.”

“Who?” asked Jerome.

“Oh, there he is! Come on in, Mr. Greene. Welcome to our classroom.”

Mr. Greene walked slowly around the corner. He was almost bald, with wisps of curly, gray hair, and golden copper, slightly wrinkled skin. His dark eyes twinkled as he saw Rico, Rashawn, Jerome, and Ziggy standing in the hallway, staring in surprise.

“Well, if it isn't the Black Dinosaurs!” said Mr. Greene with a chuckle. “Good to see you again!”

“HEY, MR. GREENE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE,
mon?” asked Ziggy.

“Your teacher asked me to go along on your field trip today,” replied Mr. Greene with a smile.

“Why would an old dude like you want to go on a trip with a bunch of kids?” Rico asked.

“Just wait and see,” whispered Mr. Greene with mystery in his voice. “But tell me about you—have you had any meetings of the Black Dinosaurs lately?”

The Black Dinosaurs was the name of the club that Ziggy, Rashawn, Rico, and Jerome had started that past summer. They had built a clubhouse in
Ziggy's backyard, and Mr. Greene had helped them solve a mystery about a buried box of bones.

“Sure, mon,” replied Ziggy, “but since school has started, we usually only meet on Saturday. Stop by sometime and see us. I'm bringing peanut butter pizza this week!”

Mr. Greene grabbed his throat, pretended to gag, and groaned, “No thanks—not this time.”

Rico and Jerome giggled, and Rashawn whispered, “If Ziggy brings it, I'm gonna make him eat the whole thing!”

They walked into the classroom, talking and laughing, found their seats, and waited to find out why Mr. Greene was joining them on their field trip.

Mrs. Powell, who was dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes instead of her usual suit and black, patent leather heels, was in a good mood. She took attendance, collected the homework, and cheered when every single homework paper was turned in.

“Class, the bus is here. Be sure you have your
lunch with you. Let's go! Mr. Greene, it's right this way, sir.”

They all trooped noisily down the stairs, while Mrs. Powell told them, “Hush! You'll disturb the other classes.” Nobody really got any quieter, but at least she tried. Mrs. Powell checked names as each person got on the bus, and when everyone was seated, the bus roared away from the school while the kids inside cheered.

Ziggy was sitting next to Rico and right behind Mr. Greene and Mrs. Powell. “So what's going on, mon?” he whispered in Mr. Greene's ear.

“I like the river,” replied Mr. Greene.

“You like it so much that you got on a school bus full of kids just to see it?” asked Rico. “You could have walked down to the river from your house.”

“I often do, Rico,” replied Mr. Greene. “Sometimes before daybreak I walk down here and watch the morning wake up and the day begin its business. It's a wonderful sight.”

“Awesome, mon,” replied Ziggy as he settled back into his seat.

The school was not very far from the river, so it wasn't long before the bus stopped at Eden Park and the kids got off the bus. The weather was a little chilly, but the bright sunlight made the day seem warm and cheerful. The trees had lost most of their leaves; they looked as if they might shiver when the warmth of the sun left for the night.

Ziggy and his classmates walked through the park a short way, then stopped at a low stone wall. Suddenly there was silence. Fifty feet below them, shining in the sunlight, was the Ohio River.

“Wow!” whispered Rashawn. “My mom and dad and I have driven over the bridge lots of times, but all you can really see from the car window is a little bit of dirty brown water. I never knew the river was so pretty!”

Silent and powerful, and filled with dark mysteries, the river relaxed at their feet. Like a long, purple serpent, it curled lazily as it wound its way from there to wherever. Although it was crossed by modern bridges and dotted with boats and barges, the river seemed strong, as if it were ignoring the
dirt and pollution of the present and remembering the glory of its past.

“That's Kentucky, isn't it, Mrs. Powell?” asked Rico, pointing to the buildings across the river. “It seems like it's close enough to touch, but it also seems like it's a million miles away.”

“You're right, Rico, and I know what you mean,” Mrs. Powell agreed. “When we get on the boat this afternoon, you'll be able to see how far away and yet how close it really is.”

Suddenly Ziggy pointed and cried out, “There's our boat! Look! It says ‘
BB Riverboat
'! They're loading up! We're gonna miss it, mon!”

“Calm down, Ziggy,” replied Mrs. Powell patiently. “We don't have to be on our boat for another hour. They won't leave without us. I promise.”

The children sat or stood near the wall, and the river seemed to quiet them as they listened to its silent story. “This is nice,” said Jerome softly. “The wind is blowing, the sun is shining, and there's no bugs!”

“I bet if that old river could talk, he'd have some mighty stories to tell,” Rico said thoughtfully.

“Is the water very deep?” asked Nicole, a girl with long black braids and a questioning look constantly on her face. Rico thought she looked confused. Jerome thought she looked cute. Ziggy hadn't noticed her at all.

“It sure is,” replied Mr. Greene, “very deep and cold. And you're right, Rico. There are some really powerful stories from the river. That's why I'm here today.”

“True stories?” asked Tiana, a tall, thin, toffee-tanned girl. She moved closer to Rashawn, who was the only boy in class taller than she was. Rashawn pretended he didn't notice and looked only at Mr. Greene.

“Oh, yes—very true,” replied Mr. Greene. “My daddy and my granddaddy both grew up down here on the river. My granddaddy worked on the big riverboats that went from here all the way down the Mississippi River to New Orleans. And my daddy worked on the docks, lifting and loading, all his life. From the time I was a very small boy, they told me stories from the river—tales of sailors and chases and losers and lovers.”

At the word “lovers,” Tiana edged one step closer to Rashawn. He pretended he had to sneeze and moved one step away.

“Tell us about some of the chases, mon!” cried Ziggy with excitement.

Rashawn quickly joined in. “Yeah! We want to hear some adventure stories!” The rest of the class loudly agreed. Tiana sighed and whispered to Nicole, “I'd rather hear some of the love stories.” Nicole smiled and nodded her head.

“Did you know,” asked Mr. Greene, “that the Ohio River was a major route of the Underground Railroad?”

“That's wacko, mon! I thought you said these were true stories!” argued Ziggy. “What kind of railroad goes under the ground or under a river?”

“Don't you ever do your homework, Ziggy?”
sniffed Tiffany with a knowing look. “It was all about—”

“Slaves and stuff!” replied Ziggy. “I know because I did it while I was watching TV.”

“If you had turned off the TV and read the last page, you would have come to the part about the Underground Railroad. Isn't that right, Mrs. Powell?” asked Tiffany, even though she was sure of the answer.

“She's right, Ziggy,” Mrs. Powell replied with a smile. “The last part of your homework was to read those pages in the book on the Underground Railroad.”

“Oh, no!” cried Ziggy, who smacked himself in the forehead as if he were really upset. “Did you say ‘
read
' those pages? I thought you said ‘
reach
' that part! So I reached it, and closed my book. Then I fixed myself a tomato and banana milkshake and went to bed, mon!”

Nobody believed Ziggy, but everyone laughed—even Mrs. Powell. Ziggy grinned, and Mr. Greene
spoke softly. “I'm going to tell you a tale that you can't find in your history books, and it's a true story. Listen!”

The class gathered in a circle, sat on the grass and waited for Mr. Greene to begin.

“THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD,” MR. GREENE
began, “was not a railroad at all. It was a method used to help slaves escape from the South and get to the North, where they could be free. It was very dangerous, but it was daring and mysterious, too.”

“So why was it called a railroad?” asked Rashawn.

“Let me explain. It was run like an invisible train. The escaped slaves had to travel long distances, and they made stops at safe houses—homes of people who helped them to the next location. Folks who didn't understand about the secret hiding places would say that it seemed like the people just
disappeared underground
.”

“Awesome, mon!” whispered Ziggy.

“Everything had to be kept secret because it was against the law for a slave to try to escape, and it was against the law for anyone to help a slave to escape,” continued Mr. Greene.

Nicole was shocked. “You mean you'd go to jail for wanting to be free?” she asked.

“No, you wouldn't go to jail—if you were an escaped slave who was captured, you would go back to your owner and back to slavery, where you would probably be punished severely.”

“They'd never catch me!” said Jerome with his head held high.

“Maybe not, Jerome, but many people were caught.”

“How did they travel, Mr. Greene?” asked Nicole.

“Sometimes by wagon, but mostly they traveled on foot.”

“You mean they
walked
from way down South to way up North?” asked Jerome with amazement. “I
rode in a car from Georgia to Ohio with my grandmother and my two loud little sisters, and it seemed to take forever!”

“Do you know anybody who walked here, Mr. Greene?” asked Mimi, a small, quiet girl sitting on the grass near Rico.