Race for Freedom (16 page)

T
he next morning a large group of men and boys left the
Christina
. Mr. Meyer was among them. As Elsa said goodbye to her father, her eyes looked wide and scared.

Captain Norstad stood near the gangplank watching the men go. “I’m sorry,” he said again and again.

“Why do you say that, Pa?” Libby asked as the last man walked down the gangplank.

“I know what a hard trip it will be. It’s a long, dangerous walk. I wanted to bring them safely into St. Paul.” Captain Norstad shook his head. “I’ve never seen such a late spring! It’s hard to believe it’s the last week in April!”

Walking to the bow of the
Christina
, he stared upstream. Watching him, Libby remembered Ma and her way of telling Pa that she loved him. Coming to stand beside him, Libby said, “I guess it’s time for a wink.”

When her father laughed, Libby felt better. “Did you see how those men hated to leave you?” she asked. “You’re a good captain, Pa. Those men didn’t have any choice.”

“I know, Libby,” her father answered. “But thanks for reminding me.”

“Caleb said something once—that you’ve got a good name. What did he mean?”

Pa smiled. “The Norstad name is something to be proud of, Libby.”

“I like it because of you,” she answered. “But why do you feel that way?”

“For generations the Norstad name has stood for something. For men who are strong and have courage. For men who make good choices, even when it’s hard.”

“And the women?” Libby asked. “What about the girls? Did they have courage?”

“They’ve been like you, Libby,” her father answered. “I told you about your mother. But don’t forget, you’re a Norstad too.”

Barely breathing, Libby listened.
I’ll never have the courage I need
, she thought. Aloud she asked, “What did those Norstad girls know that I don’t?”

Her father’s smile told Libby that he believed in her. “Every time you make a good choice, even though you’re scared, you’ll grow a bit. You’ll learn what it means to have courage. Sometimes it’s just doing the next thing.”

“Something right in front of you?” Libby asked. Again she wanted more courage. Yet when she thought about all the things that could happen, she felt scared right down to her toes.

That afternoon Samson came for Libby. Standing outside her room, he barked. “Woof!”

When Libby paid no attention, he barked again. “Wooof!”

Libby opened the door. Samson barked so seldom that when he did, she knew he wanted something. As she went out on the deck, Samson moved toward the stairway. When Libby did not follow, he came back to her. With his soft mouth, he took her hand and tugged.

“What do you want, Samson?” Libby asked as she followed him across the deck.

At the steps the big Newfoundland dropped his hold and started down. When he reached the deck below, he waited to be sure that Libby followed. The minute she caught up to him, he started out again. Each time Libby stopped, Samson came back to get her, then went on.

“What’s wrong, Samson?” Libby asked when they reached the main deck. By now she felt sure she knew where he was going. More than once, Samson had brought her to Elsa. This time he seemed to have a special urgency.

Soon they reached the Meyer family’s small area. The pile of wood was gone, eaten up by the furnaces, and not yet replaced. Elsa lay on the cold deck, the quilt from Libby doubled over her head and body. Only Elsa’s face showed.

Mrs. Meyer sat on the deck beside her, crooning something in German and sponging Elsa’s face with water. Even on the open deck, the smell of sickness hung in the air.

Moving close to Elsa, Samson stood there as if wanting her to say “Good dog!” When he woofed, Elsa reached out her hand and Samson dropped down on the deck beside her. Elsa’s lips curved up in a weak smile. As though weighted, her eyes opened, then closed.

Then beneath the quilt, Elsa’s legs twitched. As she pulled up her knees, her eyes flew open. A moan of pain escaped her lips.

Watching her, Libby felt scared. From the time they met, Elsa had seemed too pale, too thin, too fragile. How long had she eaten any kind of food she could get? How long had she gone without being warm? Or having a home?

More than once Pa had talked about the long voyage across the Atlantic. After a crowded trip in which immigrants were exposed to filth and disease, they transferred to a steamboat in New Orleans. With that came still another change in water and food.

Kneeling down next to her friend, Libby spoke to her. “Elsa!”

Suddenly Elsa gasped. As she gagged, Mrs. Meyer reached for a pail.

“I’m going for help,” Libby said quickly. As she started away, she remembered Pa had gone into Reads Landing.
Maybe I should find Caleb. He’d know what to do
.

Then a thought leaped into Libby’s mind.
Caleb likes Elsa more than me
.

A hot flush rushed into Libby’s cheeks.
I can’t believe I thought that
. With shame she remembered Pa’s talk about the Norstad courage.

For a moment Libby stood there, trying to decide what to do.
Am I going to be jealous of Elsa? Or am I going to take care of her?

Whirling around, Libby started back to where Elsa lay. By the time Libby reached her friend again, she had a plan. Kneeling down close to Mrs. Meyer, Libby spoke softly so the other deck passengers wouldn’t hear. “I want to take Elsa to my room. She’ll have a bed and be warmer away from the water.”

As gratitude flashed into Mrs. Meyer’s eyes, Libby knew that she understood. Quickly Elsa’s mother pulled together their few belongings and put them in the trunk.

Libby leaned close to Elsa. “I’m taking you to my room,” she whispered. “Do you think you can walk?”

Elsa’s eyelids drifted open and she nodded. Then a spasm of pain hit her. Groaning, she clutched the calf of one leg.

When Elsa’s cramps passed, Libby lifted one of Elsa’s arms and put it over her shoulder. “Stand up,” Libby prodded.

Mrs. Meyer slipped under Elsa’s other arm. With Elsa between them, Libby and Mrs. Meyer staggered toward the stairs. Taking one step at a time, they climbed to the boiler deck. Half dragging, half carrying Elsa, they continued along that deck.

On the narrower stairway to the hurricane deck it was even more difficult. At last they reached the texas deck and Libby’s room. There Elsa fell across the bed. Her mother helped her get settled.

Libby’s trunk stood against the door on the far side of the room. Opening the door, Libby pushed it out on the deck. Just then she saw Jordan. “Help me, will you?” Libby asked. She led him down the steps to bring up the Meyer family trunk.

“What happened to Elsa?” Jordan asked when everything was set in place, and they once more stood on the texas deck.

“She’s really sick,” Libby explained. “She’s throwing up, but it isn’t flu. Her legs pull up in cramps, and she hurts bad!”

Libby stopped at the look on Jordan’s face. Even when someone as awful as Riggs chased him, Jordan hadn’t looked as afraid as he did now.

“You know what Elsa gots?”

Libby shook her head. “Something real bad. Tell Granny, will you, and ask her what to do? And try to find Caleb.”

Sitting on the deck with her back against the wall near her room, Libby waited.
If only Pa were here. Or Caleb. Or Granny
.

Libby’s tumbled thoughts didn’t get anywhere. She wished she knew how to pray the way Pa and Caleb and Jordan did.

As though trying to comfort Libby, Samson flopped down on the deck beside her. Now and then Libby heard Mrs. Meyer speak to Elsa in German. Then Elsa’s mother read to her from their big family Bible. Libby didn’t understand any of the words.

Each time Elsa groaned, Libby flinched, unable to bear the sound of her friend’s pain. Just when Libby felt she could bear the waiting no longer, Jordan returned.

“I can’t find either Caleb or Granny,” he said. “Maybe they went into Reads Landing with Captain Norstad.”

Libby sighed. Standing up, she walked farther down the deck so that Elsa wouldn’t hear.

“Jordan, do you think you could find that doctor who came on board in St. Louis? Hutton, I think his name is.”

“I ain’t got no liking for that man,” Jordan answered.

“You don’t?” Libby stared at him. “Why not?”

“When I see that man, I gits the jiggles right here.” Jordan pointed to the center of his chest.

“The
jiggles
?” Libby asked. “What do you mean? When I talked to him in Keokuk, he seemed like a kind man.”

Jordan stiffened. “It ain’t what he does, but how he
is
.”

An uncomfortable feeling washed over Libby. She didn’t want to push aside Jordan’s opinion. Somehow he had an unusual way of knowing about people. At the same time, Libby felt desperate.

Lifting her head, she tossed her curls and pushed aside her uneasiness. “Elsa needs a doctor. We only have Doctor Hutton. Please get him.”

Jordan’s gaze dropped to the floor. With bowed head and slumped shoulders, he turned toward the stairs.

No, wait
! Libby wanted to cry out. But her terror for Elsa kept her from speaking.

A short time later, Libby heard footsteps on the stairs and looked down over the railing. Sure enough, Jordan was coming up. He walked quickly, now and then looking back to make sure the doctor followed. When Jordan reached Libby, he did not meet her eyes. Instead, he stood off from her, his head bowed.

By the time Doctor Hutton reached them, he was panting. He set his black doctor’s bag down on the deck.

Inside Libby’s room Mrs. Meyer sat on a chair next to the bed. When she saw the doctor, she stood up and moved out of the way. Leaving the door open, Doctor Hutton stepped in. Hands behind his back, he stared down over his small, round glasses.

Suddenly Elsa struggled up on one elbow. When she gagged, the doctor jerked back. “She’s certainly sick, all right,” he said quickly.

Again Elsa gagged. Grabbing a pail, her mother held it beneath Elsa’s chin.

In the next instant, the doctor backed out of the room. “Just keep on doing what you’re doing,” he said, flinging his words at Mrs. Meyer.

Without another look, the doctor hurried past Libby. When he reached the edge of the deck, he turned back and snatched up his bag. Then his feet clattered down the stairs.