Midnight Rescue

by Lois Walfrid Johnson

  Another trip still, she thought, dreading the idea.

  Back on the texas deck again, she piled her quilts on the Newfoundland’s back. “I’m training you to carry loads, Samson,” she said. “If anyone asks, you remember that.”

  Once again Libby started out. As she passed onto the boiler deck she found first-class passengers coming out of their rooms to take their exercise. More than once someone smiled at her and Samson. Giving a quick wave, Libby smiled back but kept going.

  When she reached the main deck again, Libby looked around. Sure enough, Bates stood there as if waiting for her. Instead of turning into the cargo room, Libby started around the corner to the side deck. Wherever there was enough space, she walked, called for Samson to follow, then praised him when he did.

  “Good dog. Good boy, Samson. You’re learning fast,” Libby said, loudly enough for Bates to hear.

  For at least fifteen minutes Libby waited for the first mate to leave. Finally she headed for Gran’s kitchen to get Samson his food. When he finished eating, Libby returned to the forward deck.

  To her disappointment Bates was still there. Whenever she glanced his way, Libby saw him looking toward her. At last he seemed to grow tired of watching her. But when he walked up the steps, he turned around when he reached the boiler deck. Just before passing through the doors into the main cabin, he turned again. This time Libby smiled and waved.

  Bates was too dignified to wave back. With his back straight and his shoulders stiff, he marched into the dining room.

  The minute he disappeared, Libby hurried into the cargo room. With trembling fingers she untied her quilts. Once more she glanced around, making sure that no one watched. Then she pushed aside the machine and pulled up the secret hatch.

  As she picked up a quilt to throw it down the hole, she heard a door open.

  CHAPTER 8

  Jordan’s New Plan

  Libby’s heart pounded. Whirling around, she stared at the two people standing near the door from the engine room. In the dim light it was hard to see their faces.

  Then one of them spoke. “What you doin’, Libby?”

  Libby sagged with relief. Even her knees felt weak. “You scared me, Jordan. I’m bringing blankets for your family.” Though they had never talked about it, Libby felt sure that Jordan knew about the hiding place for runaway slaves.

  “I thanks you, Libby,” Jordan said.

  When Caleb stepped forward, Libby felt angry. “You’re following me around now?”

  It upset Libby. If Caleb and Jordan found it so easy to figure out what she was doing, what about someone else—someone who shouldn’t know?

  Libby picked up the quilts, tossed them into the hold, closed the hatch, and swung the machinery back into place. With Samson trailing behind her, she stalked off.

  “Wait, Libby,” Caleb called.

  “What for?” Already Libby had forgotten she was going to set things straight with Caleb and Jordan. Instead of helping her hide the quilts and blankets, the boys had watched and followed her, scaring her besides.

  As she reached the door to the deck, Caleb caught up. “We need to talk,” he said.

  “I need to talk,” Libby said. “You need to listen. But this isn’t the time.”

  “Yes, it is,” Caleb said. “We’re leaving soon.”

  “To start the rescue?” Libby had both dreaded and looked forward to that moment.

  When Caleb took the lead, Libby followed him up to the hurricane deck. It was still quiet there and the three could sit down and talk.

  “You first, Libby,” Caleb said.

  Though it was just what she wanted, it was not the way Libby wanted it. With her heart still pounding, she began to explain. “That man on the deck last night—the one who threw a rope around Jordan—”

  “You saw him?” Caleb asked. “We were just going to tell you about him.”

  “I’m sorry, Caleb,” Libby said. “I’m sorry for losing my temper, for saying the wrong things, for talking too loud.”

  But Libby knew this was much bigger than the argument between the two of them. Caleb wasn’t just any boy. Since the age of nine, he had risked his own safety for what he believed about the freedom of slaves. He had built up a reputation as someone other people could trust.

  As a lump formed in Libby’s throat, she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, most of all, for betraying a secret.”

  Fighting against tears, Libby turned to Jordan. “I’m sorry, Jordan, for giving you away. For hurting your chances to rescue your family.”

  “I forgives you, Libby,” Jordan said simply.

  “You forgive me?” Libby asked. “Just like that?”

  “Yes’m. Just like that.”

  “But that man who threw the rope around you—it was my fault, Jordan. He must have heard me talk. How can you forgive me?”

  “I ain’t got no choice,” Jordan answered.

  I ain’t got no choice. Like a spinning wheel the words went round and round in Libby’s head. As if she were still standing there, she saw Jordan at the auction where he was sold as a slave. She remembered the names he was called. In the weeks between then and now, she had come to a better understanding of how much those names hurt.

  Unable to shake the grief in her heart, Libby remembered another time—when Caleb washed the great open wounds of the whip marks across Jordan’s back. That was the day when Jordan told them what his daddy had taught him. “Jordan, hatin’ robs your bones of strength, makes you blind when you needs to fight. If you forgive, you be strong.”

  Now Jordan leaned forward, as if wanting to be sure Libby understood. “Long time ago my daddy say, ‘It ain’t how people treats you on the outside that counts. It’s what you is on the inside. You gots to be sure that be good, ’cause you can’t run away from yourself.’”

  Libby stared at him. “I can’t run away from myself?”

  “Wherever you is, you is the person you is goin’ to be with.”

  Libby thought about it. “I don’t have any choice about being with Libby Norstad.” It almost struck her funny. “I have to be with myself!”

  Jordan grinned. “You got it!”

  In that moment Libby felt as if a weight had fallen off her shoulders. “Okay,” she said. “I can’t run away from knowing that I did something wrong.” Libby looked from Jordan to Caleb. “But I want to be different. I want God to help me start over again.”

  As Libby stood up to leave, she noticed a well-dressed man standing along the rail. He seemed to be looking out across the river. But Libby had been so busy talking that she hadn’t noticed when the man came on deck.

  What did he hear? Libby wondered, feeling frantic again. It wasn’t hard to tell that he had been listening.

  By the time Libby reached the texas deck she remembered Caleb’s words. “We’ll be leaving soon,” he had said. Like a toothache Libby felt her disappointment that she wouldn’t be going along.

  Inside her room Libby found the newspaper she had dropped on the floor the night before. Taking the scattered pages, she spread them out on the floor to read.

  Once again she saw the article about their accident. Nearby was another article, one Libby had missed.

  MAN FLEES STILLWATER PRISON

  The well-known and dangerous prisoner known as Sam McGrady escaped the Minnesota Territorial Prison yesterday. Before being captured, he was part of a gang that robbed a number of banks in Minnesota Territory and the state of Iowa. During the last holdup before Sam’s imprisonment, a bank teller was seriously hurt.

  The outlaw is known for his ability to do rope tricks. It is believed that at some time he worked on a ranch in the West. He has been called light fingered because of the way he makes whatever he steals disappear.

  Sam McGrady was seen climbing over the wall of the prison by Nate Johnson of Stillwater and three friends from the steamboat Christina. At that time Sam was wearing gray pants and a white shirt. As Nate and the others tried to report his escape, they were involved
in the accident reported elsewhere in this paper.

  A logger from the upper St. Croix River remembers seeing a man wearing the gray pants, wool cap, and red and blue jacket that is the usual dress of Stillwater prisoners. The escaped prisoner may have hidden in the cave used to store food for the cook shack. If so, he could have boarded a steamboat and left this area.

  Sam McGrady may be armed and is thought to be dangerous.

  Libby gasped. That’s the man I saw in the store at Prescott! That’s exactly what he was wearing. So he has to be the person who threw the rope around Jordan last night!

  Her heart in her throat, Libby snatched up the newspaper and raced out of the room.

  When Libby found Pa in his cabin, he too had bad news. A man had just reported a threepiece suit and a white shirt missing.

  Libby frowned. That well-dressed man who came on deck while I talked to Caleb and Jordan. That man was wearing a threepiece suit. But so are a lot of other men on board.

  “Let me guess,” Libby said. “It’s a suit like any first-class passenger would wear.”

  Pa grinned. “As Jordan would say, ‘You got it!’”

  “If only I could have caught a better look at the prisoner’s face,” Libby said. More than once she had tried to remember what the man looked like when he came over the wall. She had been too far away to see even the color of his eyes.

  When Libby showed Pa the newspaper article, he said, “I’m not surprised. At least we know who we’re looking for.”

  After a search of the Christina, Libby found Caleb and Jordan in the baggage room with each of them sitting on a large trunk. As she drew near they stopped talking, and Libby felt sure they were making plans.

  Libby handed Caleb the newspaper. When she sat down, Caleb read the article aloud. Jordan looked over his shoulder, as though hoping he could match Caleb’s words with words he had learned to read.

  “Uh-oh!” Caleb exclaimed when he finished. “Maybe I did you wrong, Libby. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sam McGrady picked up our cookies as he came on board.”

  “I got the feelin’ I know that man already,” Jordan said. “And I sure don’t like that rope of his.”

  “He must be the man I saw in the store at Prescott,” Libby said.

  “If you’re right, you’re the only one on board who knows what he looks like,” Caleb told her.

  Libby hadn’t thought about that. “You mean I’m the only one who can identify him?”

  “Yup,” Caleb answered. “And he sure knows who you are with your red hair.”

  “My auburn hair.” As Libby tossed her head, her long hair swung around her shoulders. But Caleb had something more important in mind.

  “We’re just making final plans to rescue Jordan’s mother.”

  Libby jumped to her feet. “I’ll leave so you can talk.” For the first time she felt glad that Jordan and Caleb would make the trip without her. At least Jordan would be off the boat, away from Sam McGrady. “If I don’t see you before you go, have a safe trip.”

  But Jordan stopped her. “Hold on there, Libby. Me and Caleb was talking about something.”

  Libby looked from one to the other. Arguing, you mean, she thought. When she sat down again, Jordan held out a slate.

  “Caleb taught me how to write Burlington,” Jordan said proudly. He erased the name and drew a line that stood for the Mississippi River. Next to that line Jordan put a dot, then a B for Burlington.

  Farther down the Mississippi, Jordan carefully printed a K next to a dot for Keokuk, Iowa. Then he drew a line for the Des Moines River. Inland from Keokuk, he put a third dot, and the letter C.

  “Cahoka,” Jordan said. “In northeast Missouri. That’s where Momma is—on a farm in Clark County. Old Massa sold Momma up north from where I was. I ain’t never been where Momma and my sisters and my brother are.”

  Libby waited. Where was this all going to lead? She only knew that on their trip upriver Caleb had gone into Burlington, Iowa. For a while he and Gran had lived there, and Caleb had contacts with the Underground Railroad.

  “I talked to some people I know in Burlington.” Caleb’s voice sounded stiff, as if he really didn’t want to tell Libby what was going on. “I asked them to have a peddler’s wagon in Keokuk when we came back down the river.”

  But now Caleb and Jordan agreed that the risk was too great. Sam McGrady would find it a simple matter to follow the high square sides of a peddler’s wagon.

  “I got a new plan,” Jordan told Libby. “Me and Caleb needs to get off in Burlington.”

  “We’ll get horses to ride,” Caleb said. “If someone tries to follow us, it won’t be as hard to get away from him. We’ll travel on land while the Christina goes down the river.”

  Caleb spoke quickly now, and Libby knew they were running out of time. “On the other side of the Des Moines River, we’ll get a farm wagon and look like anybody traveling through.”

  But there Jordan disagreed. “I has to be your driver,” he said to Caleb. “You has to be my owner.”

  A quick flash of something Libby didn’t understand crossed Caleb’s face. But when he spoke, she heard the grieving in his voice.

  “I don’t want to even play the part,” Caleb said.

  “If someone thinks we is friends, you be in big trouble,” Jordan answered. “And I be unable to rescue my family.”

  A long look passed between them. Finally Caleb nodded.

  “But you can’t look proud,” he warned. “If you look proud, anyone who sees you will know it’s you. That’s how the reward poster described you.”

  As if he had thought through every detail of his plan, Jordan grinned. “I ain’t goin’ to look proud. You’ll see.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?” Libby asked.

  As Jordan’s gaze met Caleb’s, Libby again felt sure there had been a disagreement. But she also knew something else. A few weeks before, Caleb had made a surprising offer to Jordan. “You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

  Jordan had leaped up, his eyes blazing with anger. “You is foolin’ me, sure enough! There ain’t no slave boy who tells a white boy what to do!”

  But Caleb hadn’t been making fun of Jordan. “I know what to do if I find a runaway slave,” Caleb had said. “I know how to hide a fugitive who comes near the Christina. What you need to do will be a whole lot harder.”

  From then on, whenever Libby asked if she could help in the rescue, Caleb had followed one rule. It was Jordan planning the trip. Though Libby felt sure that Caleb didn’t want her along, he had no choice but to stick to his own words.

  Now Libby repeated her question. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I wants you to go in that peddler wagon,” Jordan said. “I wants you and the peddler to drive right up to that farmhouse. While you does that, me and Caleb sneaks into that farm any way we can. We finds Momma and tells her we is leavin’ for the Promised Land.”

  “You want me to talk to the owners?” The memory of how she had failed still haunted Libby. “What if I do the wrong thing?”

  “Just because you done one thing wrong don’t mean you is goin’ to do everything wrong,” Jordan told her. “The Lord told me we is goin’ to need you.”

  “You need me?” Libby looked from one boy to the other. When Caleb did not meet her eyes, Libby knew she had been right. Caleb still did not want her along.

  “Why do you want two wagons?” Libby asked.

  “If something happens so me and Caleb don’t git there, Momma’s got another way to escape.”

  As though he could no longer sit still, Jordan started pacing up and down in the open space between baggage. “It be early mornin’ now. We has a whole day to git to the farm and find my family. We needs to rescue them by midnight tonight. If we gits away by then, we has till first light tomorrow mornin’ to find a hiding place.”

  Suddenly Jordan stopped his pacing. “I is feeling more and more uneasy about my family.”

  “What’s wrong?” Caleb a
sked.

  “Right here.” Jordan thumped his chest. “I been feeling the jiggles for three, four days now. Something is goin’ on with Momma and my sisters and my brother.”

  “Something bad?” Libby asked.

  Jordan nodded. “Something real bad.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I hears it like a warnin’ bell. Like the Lord is deep inside me sayin’, ‘Jordan, you got to git there soon. You got to git there as fast as you can.’”

  “Do you understand what’s wrong?” Caleb asked as if he had no doubt about Jordan hearing from God.

  Jordan shook his head. “But I knows one thing.” His face filled with despair. “If my family gits sold away before I git there, I ain’t never goin’ to see them again.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The Red Shirts

  We got to pray,” Jordan said. Between two big trunks, he dropped down on his knees. “We got to pray right now.”

  When Jordan stretched his arms high above his head, Libby felt glad there was no one around to see. But then Jordan started praying with the boldness of talking to a good friend. Libby closed her eyes.

  “Mighty Jesus, we needs Your help. We needs Your love and protection and favor. We needs You to blind the eyes and shut the ears of them people who want to hurt us. Open the eyes and open the ears of them people You want to help us.”

  As if in answer to Jordan’s prayer, Libby’s eyes flew open. Jordan’s eyes were open too. Rocking on his knees, he swayed forward and back, looking up to heaven. “Bring my momma and my brother Zack, my sister Serena, and my little sister Rose safe into your Promised Land!”

  As though the Lord had already rescued his family, Jordan sank back on his heels. “Jesus, we thanks You that when we is weak, You makes us strong. Hallelujah! A–men!”

  When Caleb looked up, Jordan’s gaze met his. Instead of worry, a glad light shone in Jordan’s eyes.

  I wish I could be so sure of what God can do, Libby thought.

  Before long, Jordan left them to get ready for the trip. Libby stayed where she was, leaning against a large piece of baggage. Her head bowed, she felt as if she could barely speak.