Dec 9, 2013 6 min read

? Chapter Fourteen

THE STORY SO FAR: After Jesse’s trick keeps the family safe, the Damrons travel along the Ohio River, sell their horse, and board a steamboat – but then Solomon and the puppy disappear.

July 9-10, 1828. On the Ohio River to Cincinnati, Ohio.

Moses, Louisa, and I rush around the deck, knocking into passengers and tripping over bushel baskets and trunks as we search for Solomon. We look under chairs, inside the cabin, behind coils of rope, under a lifeboat. Moses tells a boatman our brother is missing, and pretty soon lots of people are shouting, “So-o-ol-omon!”

I grip the railing. The landing is a shadowy line in the distance, and the river swirls behind the churning paddle wheels. What if he’s still on shore? Even worse, Solomon can’t swim.

I crane my neck to see the deck above me. A burly, bearded man wearing a black cap and a brass-buttoned jacket stands behind a wheel, barking orders. Is that the captain? “Sir!” I wave my arms, but he doesn’t hear me. I scramble up the steep stairs, climb over the railing, and tug on his sleeve.

He whirls around. “What on earth!” His scowl is fierce. He beckons to a boatman nearby. “Carl – get this urchin off my bridge.”

Urchin! I meet the captain’s steely blue eyes and force myself to stay polite. “Sir, my little brother is lost. I’m afraid he’s still on shore.” I blink back tears. “Please stop the boat!”

He shakes his head. “The Elizabeth Ann doesn’t stop for anyone. Tell your folks to take better care next time.”

Never mind our safety. I’d rather be bound out than have Solomon drown. “We don’t have folks, sir. And my brother is only four. He’s just a baby.”

The captain curses under his breath, then yells, “Reverse engines!”

His command sends boatmen running up and down ladders, across the decks, and into the hold. The great boat shudders and belches steam. The paddle wheels slow. I peer over the railing just as a small brown head pokes from an open hatch.

“Sandy!” I race down the stairs and scramble over a pile of grain sacks to reach the pup. He licks my face all over. “Where’s Solomon?” I ask.

Sandy snuffles at the hole, his tail circling. I peer in and see Solomon, crouched on a bale of cotton down in the hold. He’s shaking with sobs. “Solomon – what happened?”

“I fell in!” Solomon stretches his little arms up to me. “I can’t get out!”

“Hold on.” I lie on my belly, but I can’t reach him. “Climb on the bales, the way Sandy did.”

“They’re too high,” he wails.

Heavy footsteps clomp behind me. The captain pushes me aside, swings down into the hold, and hands Solomon up to me. When the captain clambers out, his face is beet red. “Who let these wretched children on board?” he grumbles. “The child is found. Full ahead!” he yells to the mate on the bridge. The steamer swings upriver again.

Solomon’s tears dry up instantly. “Are you the captain?” he whispers, as if this man were President Adams. “May I drive the boat?”

To my surprise, the captain sighs, pushing back his cap. “All right, lad.” He carries Solomon up to the bridge, sets him on a box so he can reach the wheel, and lays his own wide hands over my brother’s small ones. They steer the boat together. Perhaps the captain isn’t as fierce as I thought.

“Look, Jess!” I can barely hear Solomon’s tiny voice over the chuff of the engines. “I’m making it go!”

My eyes burn. If only Papa could see Solomon now – he’d be so proud! Thinking about Papa makes me woozy. Even though Papa said I was as tough as our grandfather, I don’t feel tough now. In fact, my legs are wobbly. I thread my way through the crowd, ignoring their grumbling. “Troublesome children – you’ve made us late,” one man mutters. I don’t care. I curl up next to our bundles.

When Moses finds me later, my head is throbbing and my teeth chatter like the spoons Papa used to play. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m cold,” I say. Moses wraps me in a quilt, his eyes full of worry. Nothing can warm me. I ache to the insides of my bones. Without even looking, I know my hands and feet must be blue. It’s fever and ague, and no Mama to cure me this time.

The boat ride goes on forever. If I’m not shaking with cold, I’m burning with fever. I dream that Papa has come back, but when I open my eyes, Solomon and Moses are leaning over me. Their faces grow huge, then shrink to tiny dots. Something cool wipes my face. “Mama?” I whisper. But it’s only Louisa swabbing my face with a rag.

In spite of his bad leg, Moses gets us safely off the boat when we land. As our wagon rumbles through the crowd, I grab his arm. “Don’t let them bind me out,” I say.

Moses gives a dry laugh. “Don’t worry, Jess,” he says. “No one wants a family with a cripple and two sick kids.”

Two? That’s when I realize Louisa has the ague, too. I try to stand up and help her, but my arms and legs are filled with wet sand. “Look in Mama’s medicine box,” I say, but my voice sounds hollow. Moses doesn’t listen. I grit my teeth. Every bump of the wagon jolts my bones.

Much later, I wake from a bad dream and sit up fast. We’re parked at a fork in the road. It’s dusk, and someone is crying. My chills are better, so I crawl to the wagon seat. Moses sits with the Bible open to the map. Tears stream down his cheeks. “What’s wrong?” I whisper.

“We’re lost.” He wipes his eyes. “We’ve gone off Papa’s map. How will we ever find our way home?”

• NEXT WEEK: Rescue