Race for Freedom (8 page)

And Mrs. Meyer. If she leaned back in her sleep, she would only fall into the cow. But what about Elsa? Had she stayed away from the edge of the deck?

Her new friend looked too pale, and thin besides. Libby dreaded the cold the family would find as they steamed north. Even here, a short distance above St. Louis, the damp night air crept through the windows. With no heat in her room, Libby had nothing but quilts to stop her shivers.
Does Elsa have even that?

Libby tried to remember the size of the family’s trunk. It carried food, as well as tools for a new life. How many quilts could it hold? Not many, Libby knew, if any at all.

They’ll gather around the stove in their deck room
, Libby told herself. In that way, too, her father had been unusual, wanting to make a place for deckers to warm themselves. Yet those who claimed first right would not give up their space.

I could bring Elsa a quilt.
As quickly as the idea came, Libby pushed it aside.
The farther north we go, the colder I’ll be. I’ll need every quilt I have
.

As Libby turned over, the dry corn shucks in her mattress rustled. The ropes stretched across the bed frame kept her mattress comfortable. Every morning Libby tightened those ropes when she made her bed.

Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite!
Libby almost giggled.
And if they do, hit ’em with a shoe!

Snuggling down, she felt grateful for the way Pa cared for her. Then a question came.
Does that mean Elsa’s father doesn’t care for her
?

Again Libby pushed away the thought. Mr. Meyer was doing everything he could. Like other immigrants, he and his family wanted to leave their old life behind. They had given up all they had for their dream of a better life in America.

Ashamed of herself now, Libby swung her feet out of bed. When she touched the cold floor, her toes tingled. Quickly she dressed, then fumbled in the dark to pull her warmest quilt off the bed.

Quietly she opened her door. Samson lay on the deck outside. As Libby started down the stairs, he followed.

When she reached the main deck, Libby found it even more crowded than during the day. By the light of the moon, she saw people huddled wherever they could find a space.

Deep shadows made it hard to know where all of them were. As Libby struggled to find her way, she stepped on someone.

“Ouch!” he muttered. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry!” Libby said, and kept on. But when she stepped on someone else, she knew it was no use. Bending down, she spoke into Samson’s ear. “Find Elsa.”

Between barrels, crates, and sleeping bodies Samson picked his way. Wherever he stepped, Libby followed. When they came to the long, sheet-iron stove provided for the deckers, Libby saw it was just as she feared. Everyone who could get around the stove was there, but Elsa was not among them.

Samson led Libby on, and at last they came to the Meyer family. Mr. Meyer lay on top of the bumpy woodpile. Mrs. Meyer sat on the trunk with her back against the cow, and Elsa was squeezed in beside her. With her mother’s arm around her, Elsa hugged herself as if to find warmth. Her eyes were wide open as she trembled with cold.

Quickly Libby placed the quilt around her. As Libby tucked it in, Elsa moved the quilt so that it also covered her mother.

“Danke, Libby.” Elsa’s teeth chattered. “I cannot say enough thanks.”

As Libby turned to leave, she remembered how close the family was to the engine room.
Maybe it’d be easier going through there
, she thought.
At least there’d be a space to walk
. She could go in the door on the deck side and out through the cargo area.

Built directly in front of a paddle wheel, the engine room vibrated with its own noise and the slap of the great paddle wheels. Here and there a lantern hung, giving men light to work.

Libby and Samson slipped past them, moving without sound. One man raised his hand, waving to Libby. The others kept on working.

Soon Libby passed through the second door into the cargo room. Near the machinery at the edge of that area, Libby noticed an open hatch. The wooden door swung up, creating a hole in the floor.

Strange
, Libby thought.
I’ve never seen that hatch before
.
Stepping back, she looked at it
.
How is it usually hidden
?

Nearby was a small but heavy-looking piece of machinery. As though to give it more strength, the machine was mounted on a piece of wood. Curious now, Libby took a lantern from the engine room and brought it close.

Setting the lantern on the floor, she knelt down. With both hands she pushed at the wood base under the machinery. Suddenly it moved!

Hardly daring to hope, Libby tested it out. Sure enough, the machine moved with little effort on her part.

With growing excitement, Libby held up the lantern again. If the hatch was closed, the machine could be swung into place over the hatch!

I’ve got it
! Libby thought. She wanted to sing, to dance, to shout.
I’ve found Jordan’s hiding place
! Now Caleb would have to let her take part in the Underground Railroad.

Filled with glee, Libby held the lantern over the hole. A ladder led downward and disappeared into the darkness. The space below lay between the outside of the hull and a bulkhead, the long wooden piece that ran the length of the
Christina
. Libby knew that each section between bulkheads needed its own hatch.

Somehow someone had made a secret room, or possibly more than one room. Whatever had been done, Riggs and those who searched must have missed this hidden space in the hull.

For the first time, Libby wondered why the hatch had been left open. To give a way of escape? To protect fugitives from being trapped? If the
Christina
crashed into something, the hold would fill immediately with water.

Libby knew that Caleb trusted Osborne, the chief engineer. Did Osborne hire only men who would not talk about the secret hideaway?

With the lantern still in her hand, Libby stretched out her foot and placed it on a rung of the ladder. Then she realized she couldn’t climb a ladder without using both hands.

Setting the lantern as close to the hole as she dared, Libby started down. Above her Samson woofed softly, as though warning her not to go. Peering into the hole, he stood like a guard, watching over her.

About five feet down, Libby stepped onto the floor of the hull. The space was narrow, perhaps only three or four feet wide. Samson stretched out his paw, setting it on the first rung of the ladder.

“Stay,” Libby said, afraid that he would hurt himself if he jumped into the small space. Samson stepped back, but whimpered, wanting to follow.

“Stay,” Libby commanded again. Samson flopped down on his stomach, giving Libby more light. Barely able to see, she looked around.

On one side Libby felt the deep, wood beams of the hull. On the other side was the strong, wooden bulkhead that stretched from bow to stern. Neither of these could possibly have an opening.

On the remaining two sides, Libby felt solid wood.
There has to be a door!
she thought.
Or maybe two doors, one on each side. Doors that open into a hiding place!

Standing next to the ladder, Libby looked up. Only a faint glow from the lantern shone down the hole. Using the tiny bit of light, Libby turned to the solid wall on her left.

Stretching as high as she could reach, Libby moved her hands across the wood. Finding nothing, she moved her hands down, again going from one side to the other. Whenever her fingers found an uneven spot, she pressed the wood and felt all around it, hoping for a hidden latch.

She had almost reached the bottom of the wall when Samson whined. Looking up, Libby saw him on his feet, as though warning her. Moments later Libby heard footsteps. Quickly she backed away from the ladder. As she crouched in the deepest shadow, she heard a voice.

“Looking for mice?” a man asked Samson.

Mice
? Libby thought.

Again Samson whined, as though pleading with Libby to come up. In the next instant, she heard the thud of the hatch dropping down. As darkness closed in around her, a scream rose in Libby’s throat.

CHAPTER 7

J
ust as quickly, Libby swallowed her scream.
I can’t make noise
! she told herself over and over.

I’m not supposed to be down here! What if there’s danger? What if someone closed the hatch because the
Christina
is being searched?

Whatever she did, Libby could not give the hiding place away. Yet terror welled up within her. A terror unlike anything she had ever known.

Trying to calm herself, Libby drew a deep breath, but her panic did not disappear. Instead, she started shaking.

I want to have courage
, Libby thought.
But how do I get courage in a place like this?

As though to protect herself, Libby covered her face with her hands. When she felt her fingers tremble against her eyes, she knew how frightened she was.

In the next moment, Libby found herself praying as she had seldom prayed before.
Can God see me down in this dark hole? Does He know how scared I am?

If only Samson were with me. He’d try to lick my face and make me laugh
.

Then Libby knew that all her wishes wouldn’t do a bit of good. Like it or not, she had to find a way to escape.

Feeling around in the darkness, Libby found the ladder. Taking hold with both hands, she started climbing. Soon she bumped her head on the hatch.

Balancing herself on the ladder, Libby reached up. Using both hands, she pushed with all her strength. The hatch would not move.

Libby pounded against the wood.
Maybe it’s just stuck!

But all her pounding did no good. Before long, Libby’s knuckles felt sore, and she had to stop.

“Samson!” she called, forgetting that she might be heard by the wrong person. If Samson were there, he gave no answering bark.

Then Libby remembered.
It’s the middle of the night! No one will know that I’ve disappeared!

Slowly Libby climbed back down the ladder. Using the rungs as a guide to give direction, she knelt down on the hull. Facing the wall on the left side of the ladder, she ran her hands across the bottom third. Again she pressed any small bump in the wood, searching for a secret opening.

When at last she found it, Libby almost didn’t recognize it. Next to the floor, the opening was so small that she nearly missed it.
Is it a mouse hole
? Libby wondered. It had that shape. She dreaded poking her finger inside.
Maybe a mouse will bite me!

Then Libby knew she had no choice. Expecting sharp teeth to chomp down on her finger, she pushed it into the hole. On the other side of the wall, she felt a small but strong piece of wood.

With growing excitement Libby stretched her finger as far as she could reach in either direction.
A latch! It has to be a latch!

Pushing at the wood every which way, she finally discovered the secret. As she prodded the underside of the latch, it lifted. In that instant the wall moved. When Libby pushed against the wood, it moved again.