The rope fell away from her hands. She was free. Where was Wilson? If something was happening on shore, it was the perfect time for Eliza to escape. She went to the narrow window. It was too high for her to see out, but she heard someone shout, “Fire!” In the same instant, she smelled smoke.
Not thinking, she started banging on the door. “Help!” she cried. “Somebody help me!”
“Stop making all that noise.” It was Wilson. “Someone will—”
“Did you get the key?” she interrupted, breathless.
“Yes!”
“Thank goodness.”
The door swung open, and she leaped into his arms. He hugged her tight. “You’re out of the shackles!” he said. “How?”
“Bartlett didn’t reckon on a leg as small as mine,” she boasted. “Tell me the worst—is the boat on fire?”
“Not ours. The fire started on the White Cloud. Then it spread to the Edward Bates.”
“Your old ship!”
“It was docked next to us. It’s completely ablaze.” Wilson’s eyes were red-rimmed; Eliza guessed he had shed a tear for his old boat. “They are cutting the mooring ropes so the river can take it far from the other boats.”
She wanted to comfort Wilson, but there was no time.
“This is my chance to get off the ship while everyone’s watching the fire,” she said.
Wilson agreed. He brought out a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a cap. “They won’t be looking for a boy.”
Eliza beamed. “Turn your back so I can change.”
Obediently he faced away. The clothes were too big, but she could move in them. She threw the dress in the corner of her cell; she had never liked slave blue anyway.
The shouting on deck grew louder. Eliza and Wilson froze and listened. But they were caught off guard when the Mameluke shook, throwing Eliza to the ground.
“Wilson?” Her voice was small and frightened. “What happened?”
He pulled her to her feet. “We have to go. Now.”
“What was that noise?” she asked.
“I’m afraid the Edward Bates just floated into our ship.” Grabbing her hand, he headed for the stairs. “If we aren’t on fire yet, we soon will be.”
CHAPTER Twenty-Two
WILSON SPED UP THE NARROW STAIRS, ELIZA CLOSE BEHIND him. It was too dark to make out what was happening above. Somehow the sun had set while she’d been locked up in that cell. There was a loud explosion, and the sky lit up like fireworks.
Wilson poked his head above deck. He returned, almost falling down the stairs. “The deck is burning,” he cried. “We have to get off another way.”
“How?” Eliza asked.
Wilson pointed down a corridor that led to the back of the boat. “Hurry!”
Eliza ran to the end of the hallway. There was a hatch in the center of the wall.
“Push it open!” Wilson yelled.
She shoved and the hatch swung open from a hinge at the top. She poked her head out. They were above the paddle wheel at the rear of the Mameluke. Even though the sun had set, there was a red glow that lit up the river. Above her, she heard snapping and cracking. The fire had touched the sky, sending sparks floating down in front of them. She could see the flames licking the top of the boat.
Screams from the front were followed by splashes. Eliza grabbed Wilson’s arm. “The crew’s jumping!” she shouted.
Wilson bellowed in her ear, “We can climb down from here.”
A narrow wooden ladder was attached to one side of the hatch. She stared at the water. “I can’t! It’s too high!” she cried.
“Eliza, you have to!” Wilson insisted. “There’s a dinghy for us down there.” He tilted her chin so she had to look him straight in the eye. “A little ladder can’t stop Eliza Scott, right?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll go first, then you follow. One foot down, then another. All right?”
Behind her the smoke had reached the corridor.
Unable to speak, she nodded.
“Good.” Wilson descended quickly.
Eliza hesitated. If only the ladder weren’t so small and the water so far below. A wave of heat rushed down the narrow corridor. The walls were already streaked with fire. She was out of time.
“Eliza, you must come now!” Wilson called.
She took a deep breath and climbed onto the ladder. She locked her fingers around the top rung; it was slick and cold.
First one foot down, then the other. “Don’t look down. Don’t look down.” She chanted it over and over like a prayer. The huge paddle wheel creaked next to her. She closed her mind to everything but Wilson’s voice. Finally her foot hit a flat surface. She let go of the ladder and fell to the platform. “I did it!”
A small dinghy was turned upside down on the narrow platform near the paddle wheel. Together they heaved and flipped the rowboat into the water. While Wilson prepared the oars, Eliza stared at the levee. The fire brigade was already there fighting the blaze. The captain, with his distinctive helmet, shouted into a metal trumpet that made his voice loud enough for his men to hear, but their efforts were useless. The next boat down from the Mameluke was already on fire.
“Get in.” Wilson steadied the boat.
“I want to go to my parents!” Eliza said. “No slave catcher will look for me in jail.”
“First we have to steer clear of the boat. We’ll fight our way ashore once we’re past the fire.”
A large piece of flaming wood fell, hissing as it hit the river.
“Hurry!” Wilson jumped into the boat and grabbed the oars. With strong, sure pulls, he brought the rowboat away from the Mameluke into the open channel beyond the burning boats. The wind was strong, pushing them toward the shore. Eliza clapped her hands over her ears to shut out the crackling and hissing sounds of the fire.
Her back to shore, Eliza twisted to see the flames. The White Cloud had burned down to the water and the Mameluke was almost gone, only the great paddle still standing. She swallowed hard. Trapped in the bowels of that ship—she would have been dead by now without Wilson. She gripped the seat beneath her. The splintered wood felt real to her and somehow convinced her that she was still alive. She was finally safe . . . she hoped.
The Edward Bates, still adrift, bumped into boats farther down the levee, spreading the fire as it went. Already a dozen boats were burning. Behind them, the giant paddle wheel of the Mameluke burst into flame.
“Hurry, Wilson,” Eliza shouted. “We have to get to shore.”
“There’s nowhere safe to land on the St. Louis side,” Wilson yelled.
“Then where can we go?”
The fire reflected in his eyes as he measured the distance across the river. “I might be able to row us to the other side.”
“I’m not allowed to leave St. Louis! It will look like I’m running to Illinois.”
“We have to save ourselves. Be sensible, Eliza!”
“I can’t cross the river!” Eliza cried. “What about heading upstream? There’s no fire there.”
“The current’s too fast. I can’t fight that by myself. And if we stay here, the wind will take us into the flames.”
“We can’t go ashore. We can’t cross. We can’t stay.” Eliza pleaded, “What can we do?”
A boat exploded. For an instant, the entire river lit up. Just when it seemed they had no options, Eliza spotted a familiar ship moored in the river. It was like an answer to a prayer. Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier?
“Take us to the Freedom School!”
CHAPTER Twenty-Three
“THAT’S THE PERFECT PLACE,” WILSON AGREED QUICKLY. “We’ll be far enough from the fire there.” Eliza could see the relief in his face. She understood how afraid he had been.
Rowing with one oar, Wilson turned the boat. The current caught their dinghy with a rush, and water crashed into the boat. At first Eliza thought it was just water coming in over the side; then she realized the water was pooling in the bottom.<
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“The boat’s leaking!” Eliza shouted.
“How bad?”
“Bad. And it’s getting worse.”
“Bail quicker!” Wilson ordered, rowing hard.
Eliza slipped onto her knees so she could get rid of the water faster. Her trousers were soon soaked through, and her whole body felt numb from the cold water. She kept scooping and tossing the water overboard. Once the water level dropped she could see feel a hole in the side of the boat. “I found the hole!” she said.
“Can you plug it closed?” Wilson’s voice was stretched thin.
Using her teeth, she tore off a piece of her shirt and twisted it into the hole. The water slowed. Breathing hard, she closed her eyes.
“Eliza, talk to me!” Wilson begged.
“I think I stopped it,” she panted. She climbed back onto the seat.
The easterly wind chilled her even through her thick shirt. The farther they got from the shore, the darker it was. She couldn’t hear the fire anymore over the sharp wind.
The boat suddenly lurched and began to spin around.
“What’s happening?” Eliza cried, feeling dizzy.
Wilson got the boat pointed in the direction of the school. “We’re hitting the main river,” he announced. Out of the channel where the boats were docked, the Mississippi ran faster and stronger. “Keep a sharp eye out.”
“For what?” Eliza croaked, exhaustion and smoke roughening her voice.
“Debris . . . comes down . . . the river,” he said between gasping breaths. “It’s too dark . . . for me to see it. Take that extra oar . . . and be ready to push off anything . . . that might hit the boat.” He didn’t need to say that the boat already had one leak and that another one might sink them.
They were out in the deepest part of the current when Eliza cried, “I see something!”
“Where?” he asked, craning his neck to look behind him.
“There!” Eliza pointed upriver. “It’s big and heading straight for us!” She held the oar in front of her like a weapon. “It’s a tree!”
“Watch out!” Wilson shouted, trying to maneuver them out of the way.
The tree came at them fast. Eliza shoved it away from their boat with her oar, but a branch scraped against the bottom of the rowboat. Eliza winced at the sound, praying it hadn’t pierced another hole in the boat. After a few moments, she decided that they had been lucky and the boat was still river-worthy.
“We’re almost there,” Wilson hollered. He rowed hard to break free of the current.
Eliza looked up to see the Freedom School riding high and proud on its mooring. She blinked back tears. The school had always been special, but tonight it would save their lives. Near the island, the water was calmer, giving Wilson a needed rest. The little boat finally bumped into the side of the Freedom School, and Eliza pulled them to safety.
“We made it!” she cried. She climbed out of the boat, forcing her tired muscles to move. Wilson threw her the line. Her frozen hands were clumsy but she managed to tie up the boat. Wilson bent over, struggling to catch his breath. Finally he looked up with a tired grin. “I’m going to have to teach you to tie a better knot.”
Eliza laughed. “After everything we’ve been through, you’re complaining about my knots?” She retrieved the key from its hiding spot under a coiled rope and unlocked the door to the classroom. Inside, the relief from the wind was a blessing. Eliza hadn’t noticed until then that her ears ached from the cold.
“Are there any blankets?” Wilson asked.
Eliza nodded. “Sometimes the reverend lets people stay here if they have no other place to go.” She opened a cabinet at the end of the schoolroom and pulled out some pallets and blankets. They took two blankets each and returned to the deck. They sat with their backs to the wall, facing the docks. In the time it had taken them to get to the Freedom School, the fire had spread to even more boats.
“Do you think my family is safe?” Eliza asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “The fire is only at the river.”
But Eliza couldn’t see the levee through the wall of flame linked by the docked ships. Or what was left of them.
“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three boats,” Wilson counted. “All gone. And my Edward Bates along with it.”
“They’ll rebuild it,” Eliza said.
“I hope so.”
“If it weren’t for you, I’d have gone down with the Mameluke,” Eliza said softly, her eyes fixed on the opposite shore. A tremor went through her body. “No one else would have saved me.”
He put his hand over hers. “I’d do anything for you,” he said simply.
His words were a vow of sorts. Eliza didn’t think twice before she answered, “I feel the same way.”
Eliza waited for him to say something else—but then she realized that he’d fallen asleep. She adjusted his blanket around his shoulders. She lay her head against him and watched the fire.
Without the heat and sounds of the fire, the burning levee looked more like a painting than real life. After a while the fire ran out of boats. Maybe now it would die, she hoped. They had lost enough tonight.
Eliza’s heart tightened when she spotted figures on shore frantically pulling bundles from the fire. The fire had spread to the docks, and the next day’s cargo, huge piles of hemp and tobacco, was being consumed by flames. Even from across the river, she could smell the burning tobacco. She knew she should feel horrified or sad, but instead she felt tired. Everything that had happened today had used her up. She had nothing left inside for worrying.
A wagon loaded high with crates burst into flames. In a moment, the flames had jumped from the wagon to the warehouse behind it and then rapidly from one warehouse to another. Within minutes the first warehouse collapsed, and Eliza saw the fire flare up in the buildings behind the row of warehouses. The fire wasn’t satisfied with the port—it wanted the city too. And that meant . . .
Suddenly, Eliza realized she still had some room left to be feel scared. “Wilson! Wake up!” Eliza jumped to her feet and ran to the railing.
“What’s wrong?” Wilson jerked awake.
“The fire is spreading into the city. What if it spreads to the jail? What about Ma and Pa?” Her eyes strained to make out the dome of the courthouse; it was just barely visible floating above the smoke and fire.
“Eliza, the jail is almost a mile inland.” Wilson got to his feet, groaning with fatigue. “A long ways off from the fire.”
“It could spread.” She pulled him to the railing and pointed at the dome. “They’re locked in the jail. I have to warn them.”
“We’d never make it in the dark. Not with that leak. We can go in the morning.”
“But my family . . .”
He tried to pull her away from the railing, but she held on tightly. “The alarms went off a long time ago—everyone in town knows there’s a fire. It won’t get as far as the jail, and even if it did, your ma and pa have plenty of time to get out.” Wilson draped a blanket back around her.
Eyes fixed on the fire line, all Eliza could do was watch the flames slowly engulf the buildings. Everything they touched, they destroyed. Each block the fire burned was filled with people’s houses and businesses. Off to the north side, she saw the shantytown go up in a whoosh of fire that she could hear even from the deck of the Freedom School. Eliza’s chest ached. She knew what it was like to lose a home. When Mrs. Emerson had forced her family to move to the jail, they’d lost the little house they’d rented for years.
“I should be with them,” Eliza insisted weakly.
“You won’t be of any use to anybody tonight. You need to rest.” Wilson pressed her shoulders down so she would sit. “I don’t know how you can still stand after the day you’ve had.”
“It’s my fault I’m not there,” she said. “If I’d listened to my ma, none of this would have happened.”
“Did you cause the fire too?” Wilson asked. “I mean, as long as you’re taking the blame for
everything.”
“Don’t make fun of me. I’m trying to take responsibility for what I did.”
“Not one girl in a hundred could do what you did today.” Eliza felt a lump rise in her throat. “You should be proud of yourself,” he finished.
“But it was my fault to begin with,” Eliza protested.
“The blame for what happened isn’t yours. It’s slavery that’s at fault. When we fix that, everything will be better.” He settled back against the wall and put his arm around Eliza. She leaned into the crook of his shoulder.
“Someday I’ll be free. Free to write my music.”
“And go to school.”
“And travel up and down the Mississippi—and who knows? Maybe go even farther.”
Nestled under his arm, she felt him drop a kiss on the top of her head. “We’ll go together,” Wilson agreed.
All the aches and bruises that ailed Eliza’s body faded away. She said nothing but inside she was singing.
“I forgot to give this back to you,” he said, pulling something out of his pocket with his other hand.
“My ribbon,” Eliza whispered. “You kept it.”
She took it from him and tied it to her braid. “Now I have a pair again.” He squeezed her tight. After a few minutes, she heard his breathing change and he was fast asleep.
The waterfront was destroyed and the fire was still spreading. Eliza and her family weren’t freed yet. Men like Bartlett, Mark Charless, and Frank Sanford would most likely never be brought to account for their crimes. It was enough to make Eliza cry.
But, on the other hand, she’d saved herself today. Wilson had proved to be someone she could depend on, just like Ma and Pa could depend on each other. And he wanted a future with her. Tomorrow she’d find her family, and they would start anew. Even as she watched St. Louis burn, Eliza decided that maybe the future had a chance. Quietly, so as not to wake Wilson, she began to sing.
I was born on the river in the pouring rain,
Freedom's Price Page 14
