Escape to the World's Fair (5 page)

F
INN, CHICKS, OWNEY, AND DUTCH

“I
said
quit it!” Frances repeated, though by now everyone had fallen silent. They were all staring at her.
It's just like boys
, she thought,
to act like
I'm
the one who's being crazy.
“I swear we'll get kicked off this boat if you fools keep fighting and scrapping around like a pack of stray dogs!”

She crossed her arms and glared at Alexander, then at Dutch and his three friends. She even shot a cold look her little brother's way, just in case he ever decided getting into fisticuffs was a good idea.

“They started it,” Harold mumbled, pointing to the older boys.

The tallest boy protested. “We wasn't trying to start anything! We was just wondering what you all was doing!”

“Yeah!” his shorter brother put in. “What were you all talking about? What's with this
Wandervale
place?”

Frances didn't know what to say. But Alexander, who was still lying back on the deck where he'd fallen, suddenly sat up straight, and his face brightened.

“You mean . . . Wanderville?” he asked.

The four older boys all nodded, and they leaned in expectantly.

This time it was Harold who spoke up. “Wanderville is a town and we live there sometimes. That's where we were going!”

“It sounds real nice,” the barefoot boy said. He exchanged a look with his other three friends, as if they were all deciding something. “Are you . . . er,
still
going there?”

“Of course!” Alexander replied. “And Wanderville is open to any kid who needs a place to go. Or any kid in need of freedom.”

They were all quiet for a moment. When she and Harold and the others had been “building” Wanderville a few minutes ago, Frances had noticed the older boys observing them. They'd feigned bored expressions, but they'd watched so intently she knew they were curious. Maybe even jealous.

Finally, the boy named Dutch cleared his throat. “Could, uh . . . could we go to Wanderville, too?” he asked. He had pulled out another cigar stub from his pocket and was picking at it nervously.

Frances glanced over at Jack and Eli, who both looked surprised, then to Harold, who appeared to be holding his breath, and finally to Alexander, who was nodding his head excitedly.

“Sure!” he said.

Frances could feel herself grinning, too.

The boy reached out his hand and helped Alexander up. “Guess you already heard my name's Dutch,” he said. Then he pointed to his friends. “This here's Finn,” he said, indicating the tallest boy. “And his brother's Chester, but we call 'im Chicks.”

Chicks was the one with darker blond hair, and Frances felt satisfied that she'd guessed he and Finn were siblings.

“And this here is Owney,” Dutch said, motioning to the barefoot boy with the trousers that had been sewn together. Though as Frances looked closer at all four of the boys, she could see how threadbare
all
their clothes were. While the things she and her friends wore were a little shabby, the shirts and trousers on these boys had been mended again and again.

Still, when it was her turn to introduce herself, they all tilted their heads politely. They weren't completely wild, Frances realized. All the same, she noticed Alexander and Jack checking their pockets when they thought the other boys weren't looking to make sure the money and the medallion Zogby had given them were safe.

Once all the introductions had been made, Harold added, “My traveling name is ‘Tomato Can'!”

Finn smiled at that. “
Travelin' name,
huh?”

“The hoboes gave me that name when we rode the rails,” Harold bragged.

“Really?” asked Owney. “You rode the rails with hoboes?”

Chicks turned to Jack. “Are you all runaways or something?”

“In a way,” Jack said, and he explained how he, Frances, Harold, and Alexander had come out from New York City on orphan trains, then been forced to work at the Pratcherds' before they'd finally escaped. Once he was done, Eli told his own story about having to work in the fields so much he couldn't go to school.

Dutch had lost his scowl. “I reckoned we all had something in common. Me and my chums here have been working our hides off for the past two years!”

“We was all at a broom factory for a while,” said Finn. “Wrapping bundles of straw with wire all day long.”

“The straw was worse than the wire,” Chicks added. “It was all wet and smelled bad.”

Everyone listened as the other two older boys joined in with their stories, too. After the broom factory, Owney told them, they'd been sent to a glasswork, where they'd had to run carrying hot molds of molten glass.

“We worked in the middle of the night,” Dutch said. “And we had to run fast. Owney, show 'em your burn.”

Owney rolled up his sleeve to show a terrible puckered scar on the inside of his arm.

“I was carrying a mold, and I tripped,” he said.

Frances gasped in surprise, and so did Eli. “Why did you have to work in such an awful place?” she asked.

Owney looked down at his bare feet. “My family got debts to pay.”

“So does mine,” Dutch muttered. “There's a man who loaned my pa money when our crops didn't come in. But my folks don't have a dime to pay him back, so the man made me go to the broom factory and now he takes my wages.” He motioned over to Finn and Chicks. “It's the same thing with their mama.”

Frances couldn't believe it. These boys had parents—but they were taken away from them to work. “Do you miss home?” she asked.

Finn and Chicks looked at each other. “A little,” said Finn. “But even if our ma didn't owe money, there was too many mouths to feed.”

“I ain't ever going home again,” Dutch said matter-of-factly.

“Me neither,” Owney said. “It ain't fair that I have to work off something that wasn't my fault.”

“I can't even imagine how rough it's all been,” Frances said softly. Jack and Eli nodded in agreement.

Dutch gave a half smile and winked at Frances. “Aw, we're tough.”

As Frances smiled back, she thought she could see, from the corner of her eye, Alexander scowling, but when she turned to face him he simply shrugged.

“But speaking of work.” Finn looked around nervously. “We're supposed to be working right now.” He stepped over to a row of steamer trunks: his brother and their two friends followed.

“Here?” Alexander asked. “On the boat?”

Dutch nodded and picked up one of the trunks. “Yep, here in the cargo hold. Don't want to be caught loafing.” He stacked the trunk he was carrying, and then took another trunk from Chicks and added it to the stack.

“We'll help,” Jack said, grabbing a trunk. “What should we do?”

“Stack all the trunks up and tie 'em so they stay in place,” Finn said. “That's what we were told to do. The fellow givin' orders said we needed to make more space in the luggage hold by tonight.”

“That's odd,” Frances said. She remembered a sign on the ticket window in Hannibal that said
EXPRESS
PAS
SAGE
TO
ST
.
LOUIS
. She knew it meant the boat wouldn't be making any more stops. “We're going straight to St. Louis. We'll be there tomorrow. Why would they need room tonight?”

Owney shrugged and tugged at a thread on his trousers. “Beats me.”

All nine of them began to work together, stacking trunks and tying them with rope, securing them to iron rings that were fastened to the deck. Some of the trunks weren't very heavy, and the older boys could stack them all the way to the ceiling.

“At least
this
work isn't too hard,” Jack remarked to the boys. “Compared to those other places you've been.”

“That's true,” Finn said. But even though Frances had noticed Finn was the one who smiled the most, his face was solemn now. “Only thing is . . .” he began, but his voice trailed off.

His brother finished. “Only thing is, we're on our way to another factory. And we heard it's even worse than the ones from before. In fact . . . folks say it's the worst place of all.”

What could be worse than a place where you get burned by hot glass?
Frances thought.

“It's a cannery,” Owney said, bringing his voice down to a near whisper. “For packing things in tin cans. Sardines, tomatoes. My cousin was there. Says everything is scalding hot and it stinks of fish. You cut fish up all day and brine it, and your hands get all cut and sore from the salt.” He looked down at his hands, then rolled his sleeve back down over the scar on his arm.

“Adolphius Canning, the place is called,” Dutch continued. “And the fellow who owns it is on board! He's the boss of everyone!”

Frances nearly stopped breathing. She looked over at Jack. He had been standing on one of the benches tying down one of the taller stacks. But he had frozen the sound of the name.

It was Alexander who finally spoke.
“Edwin Adolphius?”

Eli's eyes had gone wide with recognition. “Isn't that the man you were talking about, Frances? The one Miss DeHaven was going to send you to?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Jack still hadn't moved. “He's
here,
on this boat?”

“You didn't know?” Chicks asked. “But you saw him on the docks, same as we did. He walked right by us.”

It was the man with the black and silver beard, Frances realized. The one with the fine suit and the smug smile who'd strolled past just before they'd boarded. “But I don't understand,” she said. “What's he doing here?”

“That's the worst part,” Finn said. “This whole place belongs to Edwin Adolphius! This is
his
steamboat.”

One of the trunks that Jack had been trying to tie down slipped off the stack just then and hit the deck. To Frances it sounded like a clap of thunder—
bam!—
from a storm that was suddenly much too close.

A
CERTAIN FIRST-CLASS PASSENGER

T
he steamer trunk lay on its side where it had fallen. The brass lock swung loose and the lid had pulled open.

“If that thing's broken we'll get a thrashing for sure,” Dutch said, a nervous edge in his voice.

“It's my fault,” Jack said as he stepped down from the bench and set the trunk proper. “So I'm the only one who ought to be thrashed.”

Owney had come over to help. “Well, today's your lucky day,” he said, nudging the trunk with his bare foot and looking under the lid. “It ain't broken. What's more, it ain't even got nothing in it.”

Jack blinked in surprise. “Really?” But sure enough, he peered inside and the trunk was indeed completely empty.

“I thought some of those trunks felt awfully light,” Eli said.

Finn nodded and picked up one of the other trunks nearby. “A whole lot of them over here in this corner feel like they're empty, too. Like this one.” He slammed it down on the ground and it made a loud but hollow noise.

“Quit throwing those things!” Dutch snapped. “Do you want to get in trouble?”

Suddenly Chicks leapt down from the bench he'd been standing on. “Someone's coming!” he hissed.

Jack heard footsteps along the deck, coming closer. But they weren't the sort of heavy noise made by boots. They were hard little taps instead.

Owney and Frances stood on their toes to peek over one of the stacks of trunks at the person who was approaching.

“Ugh,” Owney said, rolling his eyes. “It's her.”

“
It's her,
” Frances repeated, stunned. Then she turned and her eyes met Jack's. “Quick, hide!”

Dutch and the other boys looked confused. “Huh?” Dutch muttered.

“
We
have to hide!” she gasped. “Now!” She reached for Harold and grabbed his wrist, and they scurried between two stacks of trunks until they were out of sight. Alexander seemed to understand, too, and he went in after them. Jack wasn't sure
he
understood, but he motioned for Eli to follow him and Alexander.

“What's going on?” Eli whispered as they crawled into the dark space behind the trunks.

Jack couldn't answer. He could only put his finger to his lips to indicate
be quiet.
But it was anything but quiet inside his head.
It can't possibly be her,
he thought.
It can't be!
Yet Jack figured there could be only one reason why Frances would look so scared.

“How can
she
be
here
?” he said under his breath.

“
Who?
” Eli asked.

Just then Jack heard a voice speaking to the older boys. A voice that he knew could be sweet sounding but could also be flat and cruel and cold. . . .

“I suppose you boys are
enjoying
your little journey.”

Miss DeHaven.

Jack peeked out to get a better view—it really
was
her! She stood next to the deck railing in the late afternoon sunlight. She was more elegantly dressed than he'd ever seen her—her shoulders were bare, and she was wearing a fancy black gown with beads and scalloped trimmings that reminded Jack of serpents' scales.

She was one of the finely dressed passengers who traveled on the upper decks, Jack realized.
Why did she come down here?

Frances and Alexander had found places alongside Jack to peek out at the scene just beyond their hiding spot.

Miss DeHaven looked the older boys up and down. “With all this racket,” she told them, “it would seem that you're enjoying the trip a little
too
much.”

“S-sorry, ma'am,” Finn stammered.

Jack couldn't see his face from where he was hiding, but his shoulders were tense and he stood as if frozen in place. All the boys looked on edge.

“‘Sorry, ma'am,
'” replied Miss DeHaven in a sneering imitation of Finn. “Spoken like a servant boy! Perhaps there's
hope
for you
yet
.”

Finn reminded silent, though he nodded.

“The
rest
of you,” Miss DeHaven continued, “appear too lowborn for that sort of work. But
happily,
we have found suitable positions for all of you, you know.”

The four older boys were looking down at their feet now. Jack sensed that they'd had to endure Miss DeHaven before.

“And
this
time it better work out,” she said. “No more getting yourself into clumsy little
predicaments
to shirk your duties.”

As she spoke, she looked over at Owney, who rubbed his scarred arm self-consciously.

“Yes, ma'am,” he mumbled.

A bell clanged from the upper decks, and Miss DeHaven smirked and gathered the skirt of her fine gown. “
So
delightful to have this
visit
,” she said, her voice becoming more silvery and musical, as if she was suddenly someone else.

Her shoes tapped along the deck and then up the iron steps to the next deck above them. Jack listened hard until he couldn't hear them any more.

“You can come out now,” Owney called.

Alexander was the first one to emerge. “You know Miss DeHaven?” he asked the older boys incredulously.

“She was on our orphan train,” Jack added.

“Is that what her name is?” Dutch said. “She started showing up at the glass factory saying she had to ‘check on us.' At first we all thought that meant she
cared
or something. . . .”

“But all she would do was go on and on about hard work and how lucky we were to be working,” Finn added.

“She's the worst,” said Owney. “Even if she is awful pretty.”

Harold shook his head. “She's awful
awful.
”

The older boys laughed. “Ha, she sure is!” Chicks said with a snicker.

“What are you laughing at?” Alexander said, his voice suddenly icy. “This isn't a joke. Miss DeHaven is our
enemy.
I can't believe anyone would ever think she's pretty.” He was pacing around the deck, his hands clenching.
Keep your head,
Jack wanted to tell him.

“Settle down, buddy,” Finn warned.

“Besides,” Dutch said, grinning at Frances. “We never said she was prettier than Queenie over here.”

Frances choked back a laugh and swatted Dutch's arm. “Quit calling me
Queenie
!” she said, though Jack suspected she didn't much mind at all.

“Yeah, quit calling her that, all of you!” Alexander sputtered at the older boys. “Leave her alone!”

Uh-oh,
Jack thought.

“They're not bothering me,
Alexander,
” Frances said pointedly.

“Well, you shouldn't talk to them!” he snapped, his face getting redder. “How do you know they're really on our side and not Miss DeHaven's? That they're not just telling us some story?”

Owney's eyes flashed. “We ain't lying, if that's what you mean!”

“Alexander
,
you're being
ridiculous
!” Frances fired back. “And don't you
dare
tell me who I should or shouldn't talk to!”

She turned around abruptly, her back to Alexander.

Jack stepped in between them. “Alex,” he said, his voice low. “Just calm down.”

But Alexander just stomped off in the opposite direction. He turned a corner and disappeared.

Finn nodded. “Looks like someone needs to cool his stew.”

Frances glanced at Jack. “Should we go after him?”

Jack shook his head. “We ought to leave him alone for now. Let him think.”

But,
Jack thought,
he's not the only one with a lot on his mind.