Race for Freedom (5 page)

“That’s why we want to stay a jump ahead of him,” Caleb answered. “Riggs knows we’re doing something. He knows it involves runaway slaves. If he catches us at it, he’ll collect rewards for a lot of slaves. Think of all the money he’ll get!”

Libby’s hands tightened into fists. She felt angry toward the cruel slave trader. Angry because of the way Riggs could harm Jordan and Pa and Caleb. Angry at the fugitive slave laws such as the Compromise of 1850 that gave slave catchers the right to search for runaways even in free states.

“So how do I become a runner?” Libby asked.

“You tell people about the
Christina
.” On the wide stairway leading to the main deck, Caleb stepped closer and lowered his voice. “While you’re doing that, watch for Riggs.”

“For
Riggs
?” Libby blurted out. Always he made her feel like a hunted animal.
If he does that to me, it must be one hundred times worse for Jordan
.

“You want me to watch for
Riggs
?” Libby asked a little too loudly.

“Shhh!” Caleb warned. “That’s what I mean. You’ll give us away!”

CHAPTER 4

I
don’t want to even think about Riggs!” Libby tossed her long hair and wished she could be far away from danger.

In the middle of the main deck, Caleb stopped. “You better think about him.” Caleb’s voice was still low. “Pretend that you’re a slave trader like Riggs. If you searched a steamboat and didn’t find the runaway you’re looking for, what would you do next?”

Libby thought for a moment. “I’d come on board as a passenger.”

“Yup!” Caleb’s grin told Libby that maybe she was making progress. “Riggs will probably use a different name. But all we have to do is spot him when he boards the
Christina
.”

“All!”
Libby exclaimed. “Pa says this could be the most crowded trip of the season. How many people does that mean?”

“If we do our job, there could be over three hundred, counting the crew,” Caleb said.

The difficulty of finding one person among so many frightened Libby. “If we miss Riggs, he’ll find out everything he wants to know. Sooner or later he’ll accuse Pa of hiding a fugitive.”

“That’s why I need your help,” Caleb told her. “If everyone was in one place at one time, it wouldn’t be so hard. But there are too many places to hide. If Riggs comes on board, it’s better that we know.”

Caleb headed down the gangplank. “Bet I spot him before you do.”

His words made finding the slave catcher a game to Libby. Though Caleb didn’t want her taking part in the Underground Railroad, she’d prove that she could be useful. Maybe he’d learn to trust her.

“Tell me what to do,” she said.

“I’ll show you. Your pa wants a full load of freight and passengers for St. Paul. We’ll get it for him.”

Here, next to the water, the noise and traffic seemed overwhelming. On the levee Caleb took a place near the gangplank. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he shouted. “For the safest ride on the river, choose the
Christina
! Choose Captain Norstad, the most reliable captain on the Mississippi! Sixteen years of safe travel! Sixteen years of bringing passengers to where they want to be!”

As Libby watched, people turned their heads. Some kept walking, looking up at the steamboats as though deciding which one to take. Others stopped to listen.

“Step right up, folks!” Caleb called out. “Book your passage all the way to St. Paul!”

When passengers came close to Caleb, he talked to them. “Sign up now for the cleanest boat on the river. Food to make your mouth water! My Granny makes the pastries, and see how tall I’ve grown!”

As soon as Caleb answered their questions, he guided the first-class passengers toward the gangplank and told them to find the office. He brought the deckers, or deck passengers, over to a young man, saying,

“Here you are, folks! Mr. Martin will help you.”

Called the mud clerk because in most towns he stood in the mud, young Martin checked freight on and off the
Christina
. He also took the fares of deck passengers.

As a horse-drawn wagon filled with crates rumbled past, Caleb changed his cry. “Ship your freight all the way to Minnesota Territory! We’ll get your valuable goods wherever you want in the fastest time!”

“Whoa!” The teamster pulled back on the reins. “Whoa!” Coming to a stop, he gazed up at the
Christina
. “To St. Paul, eh?” he asked Caleb.

“Yup! Safe handling for all your freight! No sitting on a wharf waiting for another boat. Straight from St. Louis to St. Paul!”

“How much?”

Turning, Caleb motioned to the mud clerk, and Martin stepped forward. Soon he and the man reached an agreement. Deckhands from the
Christina
began loading the crates.

Before long, a passenger led a cow up the gangplank. Tossing her head against the rope around her neck, the cow rolled her eyes in fear. On his back another man carried a slatted crate with chickens.

Watching Caleb’s success, Libby gathered up her courage. “Take the
Christina
to St. Paul!” she shouted. “Safest boat on the river!”

The moment the words left her lips, Libby wished she could call them back. At times she found it hard to believe that any steamboat could be safe. Yet if there was such a thing, she felt sure it would be her father’s.

Once again Libby called out. This time she thought about Auntie Vi. During four long years, she had tried to turn Libby into a proper young lady.
What would Auntie say if she saw me now
?

In the middle of a sentence, Libby choked. The passengers listening to her turned away.

Moments later Libby’s father walked out on the main deck. When he saw Libby on the levee, he waved at her. As Libby’s shyness fell away, she knew what to say.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” she called out. “Best father—best steamboat captain in the business! Ride the
Christina
, and know your captain cares about you!”

Turning toward the steamboat, Libby saw Pa’s face. When he dropped one eyelid in a long slow wink, Libby winked back. Seeing his grin, she felt warm with his love.

The next deckers who came along stopped to talk with her. When they bought tickets from Martin, Libby felt excited. She actually could do this!

As she kept on calling, Libby watched every passenger who approached the
Christina
. She paid little attention to the women and the tall, heavyset men. During the next hour, she saw at least three short, slender men, but none of them reminded her of Riggs.

Throughout the morning, workers hurried up and down the gangplank loading freight. The crates and barrels going all the way to St. Paul went into the hull. Deckhands opened hatches and slid the freight down ramps into the hold.

While Caleb kept watch, Libby took a break for lunch. As she passed an open hatch on the main deck, she looked down into the hole. Because the
Christina
needed to go into the shallow waters of the upper Mississippi, the hull was only five feet deep. It was divided into compartments by long, solid pieces of wood called bulkheads. These bulkheads stretched from the bow of the boat to the stern and provided the framework for the hull. Bulkheads also helped the crew load the boat in such a way that the freight didn’t shift around.

When Libby finished eating, Samson followed her down the gangplank. “Stay!” she told him when she reached the levee. In spite of his gentle nature, Samson was so large that he might frighten away passengers. Samson tipped his head and dropped down next to Libby.

“I’ll watch for Riggs while you eat,” Libby whispered to Caleb. With a bound he was up the gangplank and out of sight.

The midday sun was warm now. Standing on the levee, Libby looked around. As far as she could see in either direction, steamboats lay with their bows nosed into the levee. When Libby compared the activity around the
Christina
, she felt good. She and Caleb had brought in more than enough business for her father.

In the next instant, her warm feelings vanished. Directly ahead of her, a well-dressed man walked straight toward the
Christina
. With every sure-of-himself step he took, Libby felt more uneasy. Short and slender, the man carried a cane, but he didn’t need it for walking.

That’s Riggs
! Libby thought.

Then Libby saw that the man had a handlebar mustache. The mustache spread wide and curled up on both sides.
That can’t be Riggs
, Libby thought.
He couldn’t possibly grow such a big mustache since yesterday!

Moments later Libby changed her mind again.
He could wear a false mustache!

Libby whirled around.
Caleb, where are you
?

Not catching even a glimpse of him, Libby turned back. Near the gangplank at least twenty or thirty passengers waited to board. The man who looked like Riggs stopped behind them.

If he comes on board, he’ll hunt for Jordan!
Libby thought frantically.

Again she turned toward the
Christina. If only I could race up the gangplank, search for Caleb, call his name!

Filled with panic, Libby stared at the passengers again. The crowd had grown even larger. While deckers waited to pay their fare, first-class passengers moved around them and up the gangplank.

Just then a deckhand carrying a large trunk stepped in front of Libby. A second man followed with another trunk on his shoulder. Desperately, Libby moved from side to side, trying to see around them.

The moment the deckhands walked on, Libby searched the crowd again. Nowhere did she spy the man she thought was Riggs.
He has to be here!

Just then Libby saw a nail keg near the gangplank. Racing over, she jumped onto it. With the added height, she had a better view of the entire crowd.

As she studied each face, Libby felt sick.
The man who looks like Riggs is gone!

The minute Caleb returned, Libby told him what had happened.

“You don’t know whether the man boarded or not?” Caleb asked.

Libby still felt upset. “He stopped toward the back of the crowd. He could have taken another steamboat. Or he might have gone up the gangplank when I couldn’t see.”

“What did he look like?” Caleb asked.

“Exactly like Riggs, except for one thing. He had a handlebar mustache with a stiff curl on each side. Maybe it’s a disguise.”

Caleb nodded. “Good thinking. A big mustache would hide the frown lines in his face.”

“So what do we do?” Libby asked as a man with a gray-and-white beard set down his bags in front of young Martin.

Heavyset and of medium height, the man wore a rumpled brown suit and a beaver hat. His small, round glasses had settled halfway down his nose.

“First-class passengers register in the office,” Martin told him.

Bending down, the man picked up a black leather bag and a carpetbag—a cloth suitcase with handles. As he started up the gangplank, Martin called after him. “Are you a doctor, by any chance?”

When the man nodded, Martin spoke again. “The captain will be glad to know we have a medical man on board. If there’s an emergency, can we call on you?”