The Girl in the Torch (17 page)

S
ARAH GRABBED A PAPER.
In the photo Maryk and Mrs. Lee looked disoriented, as if someone had pushed them against a wall to have the picture taken.

“What's the matter, Red?” asked Tommy.

“Hey, get out of the way,” one of the other newsies said.

“Yeah, move it along.”

Tommy shoved his stack of papers into his bag and then pushed Sarah along, away from the other boys.

She moved to a corner of the alley away from the newsies.

“Sarah?”

“These are my friends,” she said, gesturing to the photo.

Tommy grabbed his own paper, and they both read the story.

CHINATOWN HUMAN SLAVE RING BUSTED!

In a daring afternoon raid on Tuesday, the police stormed a building in Chinatown and arrested the owner, Mrs. Bai Lee, along with one of her boarders, Stephen Maryk, and
four Chinese girls on suspicion of running a slave ring, in which immigrant girls were used for forced labor or other immoral purposes. Both Maryk, a security guard at the Statue of Liberty, and Lee, the owner of the building, were charged.

“We were tipped off by a source at Maryk's place of employment that he may have been smuggling immigrant girls,” arresting officer James Callahan commented. According to the source, the man has a severe drinking problem and had previously been suspended from the job at least once.

As for Lee, she could not explain why four single girls were all living in her building, except to say that she “runs a clean house” and “only wanted to help girls from [her] country.” Maryk and Lee deny the charges.

The suspects are being held in the New York House of Detention and will be arraigned tomorrow in New York Criminal Court. Another suspect fled the scene during the raid. Authorities are still looking for the girl, who is described as tall, thin, red-haired, approximately thirteen or fourteen years old. The police are seeking any information leading to the girl's whereabouts. She may also be wanted in connection with other criminal activities.

Tommy looked up at Sarah.

“The tall, thin redhead is you?”

Sarah nodded. She looked around and noticed several of the boys also reading the front page, absorbing all the news so they could shout out the best headlines to draw customers. One of the newsies looked up from reading the article on the front page and squinted at her. He nudged his friend and pointed at the paper and then Sarah.

Sarah lowered her head and hurried away.

Tommy struggled to catch up with her under the weight of the bag. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“I don't know,” she said. “I just have to go.”

“Hold on,” he said, trying to grab her arm. She pulled away.

“No,” she said. “Don't you understand? I can't stay with you, Tommy, or you'll get arrested too.”

Sarah moved out of the alley. Tommy started after her.

“Sarah! Wait!”

She turned and forcefully held him back by the shoulders.

“Leave me alone,” she said. “Just take care of yourself.”

Sarah turned and ran. Tommy didn't follow.

S
ARAH RAN FOR SEVERAL
blocks, still gripping the paper in her hand. Finally she found a quiet street and sat on a stoop to catch her breath. She read and reread the article several times, letting it sink in. Maryk, Mrs. Lee, and the girls might be going to jail, all because of her. They had been strangers, but they'd offered her shelter and kindness.

Sarah felt weighed down by guilt. If she turned herself in, it didn't seem likely that anyone would believe her story—she would just be sent back to her country or arrested too. The newspaper article mentioned that she might be involved in other criminal activities. Could they have possibly found out that she had stolen the egg? In addition to everything else, she was now a thief. She also worried that she had already gotten Tommy into some sort of trouble just for being seen with her.

She wracked her brain for some plan, staring at the sad images of Maryk and Mrs. Lee on the front page. In the back of her mind, she had held on to some slim hope that she could resume her life
with them. Living in Chinatown was completely unlike the way she had lived at home, but she had grown to feel comfortable there. Now, everything looked bleak and hopeless.

Two police officers wandered down the street toward where Sarah was sitting, absently twirling their nightsticks and talking with each other. Sarah ducked her head down, shielding herself from their view. She watched them walk by and then moved off in the opposite direction.

She turned down side streets and alleys, not really sure where she was heading, just fleeing from where she had been. Sarah couldn't think of a single place to go, so she kept moving, farther down and around the twisting streets of lower Manhattan. She felt invisible among the crowds of people bustling by her, all with a purpose and a destination except her. Finally, she came to the southwestern edge of the city and recognized the grassy park that abutted the docks along the water of New York Harbor. She spied something shining in the grass by a bench.

As she approached, she discovered a quarter half stuck in the ground. She picked up the coin and placed it in her pocket. At least she could buy herself a hot meal.

She walked along the dock farther south, transfixed as the familiar statue of the Lady came into view shimmering in the distance. Sarah paused and felt her limbs go limp as all the energy drained from her body. The words of the poem rang through her mind:
“. . . from her beacon-hand / Glows world-wide welcome. . . .”

She thought of how the Lady had been a beacon for her and her
family, drawing them to America. As she stared at the torch, an idea came to her.

I have to find a way to make people listen to me.

She couldn't run and hide anymore, so she needed to become more visible, to do something to make everyone pay attention to her so she could tell her story and save her friends. If she just let herself disappear or get arrested, no one would care or listen to her. She had to make sure Maryk and Mrs. Lee wouldn't be punished for trying to help her.

She gripped the quarter in her hand and decided that she would use it not to buy food, but for one last ferry ride.

S
ARAH REMOVED
T
OMMY'S CAP
and let the wind sweep back her hair as she stood on the top deck of the ferry that steamed toward the Statue of Liberty. The morning was crisp and clear, with only a few billowy white clouds drifting across the deep blue sky. With the ferry just a few hundred yards away, she could see scores of tourists milling around the statue. Although it had been a couple of weeks since she left the island, she felt as if she had been away for a lifetime.

The boat moored at the dock, and as Sarah stepped onto the island, she took a deep breath of the cool ocean air coming in off the harbor. Roaming the familiar grounds, Sarah felt as if she had come back home. She stopped at the foot of the tree she had hidden in all those nights, then stared at Ellis Island in the distance and the choppy stretch of harbor that separated it from the Lady's island, her mind flashing back to her leap from the ship and swim to safety.

Finally, she moved to the base of the statue and stared up at
the Lady and her strong, welcoming face. She thought of the worn postcard she had carried from their village, the first time she and her mother had set eyes on the real thing, and how beautiful she was, and then all the nights she had spent sleeping inside her.

Mother of Exiles,
Sarah thought.

Although she hadn't planned to return, she understood that this was her opportunity to say good-bye, to end her journey where it had begun and hopefully help her friends in the process.

She took a deep breath and entered the base. Dozens of people moved up and down the stairwell, their voices echoing in the enormous cavity. She pushed on, higher and higher, until she reached the ladder leading to the torch and climbed up.

Emerging onto the exterior walkway of the torch, she leaned against the railing to catch her breath, sucking the cool salt air into her exhausted lungs and staring out to sea. She remembered watching Maryk do the same all those nights from her hiding spot in the tree. As the waves cascaded into each other and against the shore below, she wondered what Maryk had been staring at all those nights and what he had seen or hoped to see.

Sarah removed Ivan from her pocket and held him up on the railing. She remembered their nights sleeping in the crown, when it had started to feel like her private bedroom. Back then she had felt a sense of adventure and some hope about the future. Now even the Lady felt like a dead end. She looked at Ivan, but she didn't feel like talking to him anymore. He was only a piece of carved wood. She thought about throwing him out into the sea,
and even dangled him over the edge, but then pulled her hand back and shoved him into her pocket.

Her mind flooded with everything that had been lost. Her parents, Maryk's wife and child, Bao Yu's father, and all the others from her village and other villages all over the world who had never made it this far.

She spent the afternoon just standing on the torch as tourists came and went to admire the view. No one seemed to notice her. It was as if she didn't exist. Finally the sun began to set over the horizon, a fiery orange ball slowly dimming the sky. She heard the bell ring, announcing the final ferry, and saw the guards encouraging people to make their way toward the dock.

All the other people exited the torch, climbing down the ladder, joining the others who had been in the crown room. But Sarah didn't move.

Eventually the final tourists emerged from the exit at the base of the statue. Two security guards roamed the grounds and made their way toward the entrance of the Lady to make one final sweep. She heard their footsteps getting steadily closer until one of them emerged onto the platform of the torch—a young man with a neatly trimmed black mustache. He regarded her in surprise.

“Miss, what are you doing here?”

She didn't respond.

“Didn't you hear the bell? The last ferry is leaving. I need you to come down now.”

Still, Sarah did not reply.

“Miss? Are you all right?”

“I'm not leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm not leaving until I talk to a newspaper reporter.”

“A newspaper reporter?” he said, his brow furrowed with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

A moment later, the other security guard emerged onto the platform.

“What's taking you so long, Charlie?”

Sarah stiffened and instinctively drew back as she recognized Maryk's nemesis, Johnson.

His face took on an ugly little smirk. “Well, look what we have here.”

“S
HE SAYS SHE WANTS TO TALK
to a reporter,” the younger guard said.

“Who do you think you are?” Johnson said. “The mayor?”

“You know her?”

Sarah turned away and looked out to sea.

“She's part of that slave ring that Maryk's mixed up in,” Johnson said.

“Maryk didn't do anything wrong,” she said defiantly.

“Tell it to the judge,” Johnson said. “All right, little lady, let's move it.”

“I said I'm not going. . . .”

He reached out to grab Sarah's arm and she jerked back, eluding his grasp. Johnson lost his footing.

He scowled. “You want to do this the hard way?”

The younger man stepped forward.

“Please, miss,” he said. “There are no reporters out here anyway. Don't make this harder on yourself.”

He offered Sarah his hand. She hesitated for a moment, but then put Tommy's cap back on and accepted the man's help. With Johnson positioned in front of her and the younger man behind, they made their way to the door that led from the torch back into the statue. Sarah glanced over her shoulder one more time, saying good-bye to the beautiful view forever, and then ducked inside.

Johnson and his partner led her toward the guardhouse by the dock. The last ferry was moored nearby. Most of the tourists watched from the upper deck, pointing and talking about Sarah.

“There she is,” one of them said.

“I heard she wouldn't come down from the torch and they had to drag her out.”

“Are they arresting her?”

“What was she doing up there anyway?”

“Where are her parents?”

Sarah was satisfied to see that she had gotten their attention. Now, the word needed to spread. New York city was crawling with reporters looking for stories; she just had to hope word of her arrest would reach some of them.

The two men escorted Sarah into the guardhouse and sat her down at the small wooden table where she had told Maryk her story and eaten the dinner that Mrs. Lee had prepared.

“We've told the ferry captain to send back a special boat for you,” Johnson said.

The other guard stepped outside. Johnson crossed his arms and
leaned against the door, watching her, as if expecting that she might try to flee. But she had no escape plans.

They waited for over an hour until the police arrived in a small boat. A policeman led Sarah back to the dock.

“Be sure to tell your ‘uncle' that I send my regards,” Johnson called after her.

Sarah didn't turn to look his way. In fact, she didn't turn to look back at the Lady or the island the entire ride back to Manhattan. She had already said good-bye.

Nearly two hours had passed since Sarah was brought down from the Lady when she got off at the dock in New York. She craned her neck as they approached, hoping to see a crowd waiting for her, but the dock was empty.

Her heart sank as she disembarked and two policemen led her toward a wagon parked on the street nearby.

They were just a few feet away when a round little man wearing a bowler hat ran toward them, carrying a small pad and pen. Another man, thin with a mustache, followed a few paces behind carrying a notebook of his own.

“Miss! Miss! I'm from the
New York World
. I got a tip that you wouldn't come down from the statue. Is that true?”

“No questions, boys,” one of the policemen said.

The other reporter stepped in front of them.

“Harry Pinson from the
Times
. Can you tell me what you were doing up in the torch?”

“What are they arresting you for?”

“All right, move along,” one of the policemen said, brushing the reporters aside.

The police led Sarah to a horse-drawn wagon just like the one that had hauled off Maryk and Mrs. Lee. Although they didn't put her in handcuffs or chains, Sarah knew she was a prisoner. The men loaded her into the back of the wagon and locked her inside. She could still hear the reporters shouting questions at her through the bars of the wagon as the horses clattered away. She leaned back against the hard wooden wall as they rumbled forward.

At the police station, Sarah told the officer in charge her story. A ruddy-faced man with a shiny bald head, he listened to her intently and made a few notes in a bound book as she talked.

She didn't mention the stolen egg. She felt bad about lying but didn't want to risk getting into deeper trouble.

“What will happen to me?” she asked as she finished.

“I'm not sure,” he said. “Trespassing isn't a serious crime. But you're not really a United States citizen, so you're going to have to go before a judge. He'll figure out what to do with you in the morning.”

“The morning?” she said with disappointment. She had hoped to be able to explain things right away and help her friends.

“Courts are closed at this hour,” he explained. “You'll have to spend the night here.”

They gave her a meal of corned beef and boiled potatoes and
then locked her in a small holding cell. She lay on the hard bed, staring up into the darkness and wondering what would become of her. She heard the strange sounds of the building's creaks and groans. A drunken man chattered to himself in the cell next to hers. She tried her best to block out the noise.

For most of her life she had slept in her one-room house in her village, on a mat next to her parents, where she knew every single noise and shadow. In the past several weeks, she had slept in the hull of a ship, a dormitory on Ellis Island, the crown of the Statue of Liberty, a rooming house in Chinatown, and even a box in an alley in the pouring rain. And now here she was expected to find comfort enough to sleep in a jail cell.

Gray streaks of moonlight fell through the bars of a small window near the ceiling, and Sarah wondered if this was the view she would have from now on. She thought of her parents. So much had happened since they both had left her. She felt as if her outer shell had hardened and that she must look very different from when she left her village. She had departed as a girl, a daughter, who was completely tied to her parents' ways. Now, although she was alone, she knew she had become something different, an independent young woman. She was also a prisoner and some sort of criminal, two things she had never imagined she would be. She wondered if her parents would be able to recognize her in heaven if she even got there.