Emily and Jackson heard him open the door to the little storeroom where he had left the bag, and the next thing they heard was a terrible roar.
“How in creakin’, squeakin’ creation did that blasted kid get herself out of there?” he bellowed, and let out another roar.
There were more footsteps on the stairs, and then a man’s voice called, “Inspector? Is something wrong?”
Emily and Jackson hardly dared to breathe. The captain had stopped right outside the door to the toilet compartment, looking this way and that. Then they heard Victor come out of the little storeroom at the end of the hall.
What would he tell the captain? Emily wondered. He could hardly say that he had brought a pickpocket aboard in a burlap sack and now she was loose among the passengers.
Uncle Victor began to stammer. “Uh … sorry, C-Captain,” he said. “Got carried away, I guess. But I just caught a glimpse of one of the most thievin’, lyin’ pickpockets of all time—a girl ’bout eight or nine years old. How she got on board and where she’s gone to, I don’t know, but I’d advise you to send out an alert to the whole boat. With everyone looking, I’ll have her in custody in no time.”
Emily’s heart was beating fast, and Jackson’s was thumping so hard that Emily could feel it against her back as they stood squeezed together in the tiny compartment.
“No, Inspector, I can’t do that,” the captain said. “I want no mention made at all of a young pickpocket aboard this boat. My customers and actors are of the highest caliber, and my showboat has a reputation as one of the finest. You are the private investigator whose job it is to find this thief and prosecute her, but I don’t want to alarm either my passengers or my crew. Is that understood?”
“Uh … of course, sir. Sorry. Afraid I was a bit surprised myself. Now I think of it, perhaps I didn’t see her at all. It could have been a short lady in a small bonnet.”
“Exactly,” said the captain. “Now you go about your job and I’ll go about mine.” And he turned and went back up the stairs.
When the captain was gone, Uncle Victor swore and paced back and forth.
“Emily Wiggins, wherever the ding-dong dickens you’re hiding, I’ll find you,” he muttered. “The only way to escape me now is to jump overboard and drown yourself.” And he went back to the storeroom, where Emily heard him opening boxes and throwing things about.
“We’ve got to find a better hiding place,” Jackson whispered. “He’ll be checking every door along this hall, even the boiler room. Come on!”
They squeezed out of the toilet compartment and headed for the stairs.
It was getting close to the dinner hour aboard the boat, and it seemed as though most of the guests were on an upper deck, enjoying singing by the cast of the show. Uncle Victor would probably work his way up, the children decided, searching the boiler deck first, then the next deck and the next, where the actors were performing.
Slowly, carefully, they crept up the stairs, their backs against the wall, until their eyes were just level with the floor above. No one was watching. They continued up to the next deck.
All they could really see when they got there were the backs of the passengers as they sat on folding chairs, listening to the singing. They saw the white uniformed legs of the crew standing off to the side.
There seemed to be no place to hide up here among all the guests and crew, so Jackson led Emily back down to the main deck where they made their way to the dining room. Waiters were setting the tables, calling back and forth as they prepared for the evening meal.
Each table was covered with a heavy white cloth that reached all the way to the floor. The glassware gleamed, the silver shone, and a starched white napkin folded like a fan sat on each plate. The waiters started lining up at one end of the large room to fill pitchers of water, and when no one was looking in their direction, Jackson grabbed Emily’s arm and they crawled under the nearest table. Safe at last!
Emily was very glad to rest. She was sore all over from bumping around in the burlap bag. She sat with her back against Jackson’s, facing in the opposite direction, feet drawn up, arms clasping her legs. She wished she could just stretch out and take a nap, but the music from above had stopped, and the sounds of grown-ups’ voices grew louder and louder as guests made their way down to supper.
Suddenly a pair of women’s dainty high-buttoned boots slid under the table, sticking out from beneath a green taffeta gown. Emily wriggled her legs closer to her body so as not to touch the woman’s feet.
At the same time, another pair of women’s shoes, these bright red, appeared under the tablecloth on Jackson’s side. He moved just as the woman was crossing her legs, so that the tip of one red shoe was about even with his ear. He squirmed away as best he could.
But then, a pair of white men’s shoes appeared on the floor beside the first woman’s high-buttoned boots, and a pair of polished brown shoes with yellow spats slid under the table beside the second woman’s bright red shoes.
So many legs! So many feet! Jackson and Emily huddled on the floor under the very center of the table, looking back and forth, ready to lean this way or that if a leg moved or a foot twitched. One awful time a large hand reached down under the table to scratch an itchy leg.
How long would this meal go on? Emily wondered. She was hungry herself, and the wonderful scent of steak and roast potatoes drifted down, making her even more miserable. She bet Jackson was starving too.
Finally, finally, the chatter of the grown-ups grew softer and softer as more and more passengers left the dining room, and at long last the dainty high-buttoned boots and the red shoes and the men’s white shoes and the brown shoes with yellow spats slid back out from under the table and all the passengers left the dining room.
Emily just wanted to stretch out under the table and sleep. No one would see her there.
But Jackson was nervous. He put his head to the floor so he could watch through the narrow space between the bottom of the tablecloth and the rug. And suddenly he sat back up and whispered, “Emily! We’ve got to leave. Now!”
“The waiters are removing the tablecloths!” Jackson said. “Soon someone will come over and take this one. Then they’ll see us for sure.”
Emily was sorry they had to move again. She just wanted to curl up on the soft rug, put her arm beneath her head, and sleep.
But Jackson tugged at her shoulder, one hand holding up a corner of the tablecloth. As soon as he whispered “Now!” they crawled out, crept to the door, and slipped up the stairs to the deck above.
It was growing dark, and a few passengers were still standing at the rail, gazing at the stars. The huge paddle wheel spun in the river. Green and yellow lights illuminated the name of the boat, the Samuel Cray, and the calliope played merrily, advertising the big show that would be held at Cottonwood Junction the following day.
Now it was going to be very difficult to find a place to hide, because the passengers were so scattered. Most were in their cabins getting ready for bed; the nearly empty deck would make it all the easier for Uncle Victor to spot two children in the midst of the remaining grown-ups. He could be anywhere in the shadows, just waiting for a glimpse of Emily.
The safest place seemed to be the very top deck, behind the tall smokestacks, so up they went. Emily stood behind one, Jackson behind the other, and whenever a member of the crew came by or passengers wandered up to watch the calliope player, Emily and Jackson moved to the right or to the left just enough to stay hidden. It was very much like playing hide-and-seek in the woods, standing behind the big elm tree.
As the evening wore on, fewer and fewer people remained on deck, especially up top, where the breeze rustled women’s bonnets or tossed men’s straw hats into the air. Soot from the smokestacks drifted down onto people’s clothes, and the ladies said, “Oh, it’s much too dirty here! Let’s go below!”
Emily and Jackson knew they couldn’t stand up all night, moving around and around the smokestacks. Where could they find a
big box to hide in? they wondered. They went to the bow and peered at the main deck far below, which fantailed out farther into the water than the rest of the boat. Perhaps they would see an empty box down there.
But no. Standing between the lines and winches was the man with the tiger tattoo, looking straight up at them. For half a second his eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open, and then he raced for the stairs. The children knew they had only seconds to hide.
They raced down to the next deck. Jackson pulled Emily over to one of the lifeboats fastened to the side of the Samuel Cray. He lifted a corner of the tarp cover, boosted Emily up and over the edge, then crawled in after her and yanked the tarp back down just as Uncle Victor’s boots sounded on the stairs.
Emily’s uncle did not stop there, but ran on up to the top deck, where he had last seen the children. When he came down at last, he was muttering at the sky.
“Curses!” he said. “The brat’s still around, and that blasted Jackson kid too. How in tarnation did I lose ’em? I’ve checked every inch of this dad-burned boat.”
Every inch except this lifeboat, Emily thought, huddling beside Jackson. Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa went her heart.
Back and forth Uncle Victor paced, muttering to himself. The footsteps seemed to be crossing the deck to the other side, and then Emily heard the sound of a waterproof tarp being lifted. She and Jackson sucked in their breath.
“J-Jackson!” she whispered. “He’s ch-checking the lifeboats!”
“Shhh!” Jackson said. “Squeeze down as far as you can.”
Emily flattened herself to the bottom of the lifeboat so hard that her cheek felt as though it would go through the wood.
A minute or so later, Uncle Victor’s footsteps crossed the deck again, and then came the sound of the tarp being lifted above her head.
This is the end, Emily thought.
The tarp came half off, and for a moment, Emily felt sure she had been seen. But at the same time she heard someone call out, “Evening, Inspector. Any problem here?”
“No, no, just checking to see that the lifeboats are in order,” Uncle Victor said, pulling the tarp back in place.
“All in order. Checked them myself,” the voice said. “You don’t have to do our work, Inspector. The captain runs a good ship.”
“Of course, of course,” said Uncle Victor, and the children remembered that he couldn’t say one word about pickpockets, not even to the crew.
When the other man had gone, Uncle Victor did not lift the tarp again. The lifeboats were fastened several feet above deck; it would be hard for him to see the children unless he stood on tiptoe and leaned over. Could it be that Emily and Jackson had found a safe place to spend the night?
They had indeed, and both of them slept well, even though there was no soft place to lay their heads.
It was warm beneath the tarp the next morning, however, with the sun bearing down on them, and when Emily lifted one edge and peeked out, she saw that the actors and actresses had gathered between the lifeboats to rehearse for the evening’s performance.
Passengers were not allowed on this deck during rehearsals, it seemed, because there was a rope across the stairway, and the director was asking some singers to do their parts again. Emily felt sure that Uncle Victor wouldn’t come to check the lifeboats again right now.
She couldn’t remember when she had last had something to eat. “I’m so hungry,” she whispered to Jackson as they watched the performers from under the edge of the tarp. “How long has it been since we ate anything?”
“ ’Bout this time yesterday,” Jackson said. “Remember how we ate our beans and corn bread out on the swing?”
“I wish I was back there now,” said Emily. “Poor Aunt Hilda. She must be so worried. What do you think she’ll do?”
“I reckon she’s got the money from the bank—being your guardian and all—and is going to give it to Victor, just to get you back,” said Jackson.
Tears came to Emily’s eyes as she thought of all the things Aunt Hilda needed for her little place in Redbud. How Emily had hoped they could use some of the money that way!
After a while, lunch was served to the actors. As the children watched, waiters brought up platters of food and set them atop little tables they set up around the deck. There were small chicken salad sandwiches, cheese and crackers, tiny sausages on toothpicks, and pecan cake with sweet tea.
Actresses in fancy hats ate daintily, with napkins spread over laps to cover their satin dresses; men in red vests and yellow shoes put down their trombones and trumpets and helped themselves to several sandwiches at a time.
Peeping out from under the tarp, Emily and Jackson stared at a man’s plate only inches away from the lifeboat. The delicious scent of chicken was almost too much to bear. The men and women sitting nearby were laughing about one of the mistakes they had made during rehearsal, and the man sitting closest to the lifeboat got up to get another pitcher of tea for them all.
Emily stared in horror as Jackson reached out from under the tarp, picked up a chicken sandwich from the man’s plate, and slowly pulled his arm back into the boat.
“Jackson!” whispered Emily.
None of the actors and actresses had seen, however. They had all turned toward the man who was bringing the pitcher of tea.
The actor refilled their glasses, then sat down to finish his lunch. He stared at his plate for a moment, scratched his head, then ate a cracker and looked suspiciously around at the women on either side of him. Emily almost laughed out loud, but she was hungrily eating her half of the sandwich, and it was delicious.
When the actors were deep in conversation again and two of the men were joking with a third one about a sour note he had played on his trumpet, Jackson reached out once more. Emily held her breath as his hand came back with a fistful of cheese.
When the joking had stopped and the actors turned their attention to lunch again, the man by the lifeboat stared down at his plate once more and said, “Now, what kind of monkey business is this? Where’s my cheese?”
The other actors looked his way.
“Why, I expect it’s on its way to your stomach,” one of the women said.
“I’d say it already got there, the way his belly’s growing,” a man laughed.
“Somebody’s been stealing off my plate!” the actor insisted, looking puzzled.
“They say a gull can swoop down and steal your food before you can blink an eye,” said one of the women. “Better eat faster and talk less, Charlie, and keep an eye on the gulls.”
“I’m through with my lunch,” another woman in a pink bonnet said. “Why don’t we throw some crackers to the birds and watch them dive?”
Emily and Jackson watched helplessly as the small group on their side of the deck scooped up crackers and rolls and went over to the railing, tossing bits of food into the air and seeing which bird would swoop down and catch it before it hit the water.
But Jackson wasted no time. While they were busy tossing food, he reached out and brought the actor’s glass of sweet tea under the tarp. He and Emily shared it in small sips—first Emily, then Jackson, one for her, one for him—until it was all gone and they were no longer thirsty.
Later, the calliope began to play again, and there was a rustle of excitement as the deck was cleared. The actors and actresses went to their cabins to rest and dress for their performance. Passengers were being served an early dinner, and cheers went up as the Samuel Cray rounded the bend at Cottonwood Junction, where a platform had been set up for the evening show.
Jackson and Emily could tell from the noises that came floating out to meet them that a crowd was already gathering, and when they climbed out of the lifeboat at last and peered over the railing as the boat pulled in, they saw that some people had picnic baskets and blankets or chairs, and a peddler was selling lemonade.
“As soon as we dock, Emily, we’re getting off,” said Jackson. “We’ll try to squeeze into the line of people leaving the boat, but you
know that your uncle will be standing right there, ready to grab you. You’ve got to run like the wind.”
Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa went Emily’s heart. All she wanted to do was get home to Aunt Hilda and tell her not to give away the money. She wanted to see if Spook had made it to shore, and if Aunt Hilda had understood the ribbon and the flyer about the show. She wanted to hug Aunt Hilda tight and never let go.
Emily and Jackson followed the crowd lining up to go down the gangplank. Everyone wanted to find a good place on the grass to sit and watch the show. There was so much excitement about the evening’s performance that few passengers noticed the children, and no one asked what they were doing aboard alone.
As the crowd neared the gangplank, Emily saw the captain there at the bottom, helping the ladies in their long dresses to step carefully. Next to him stood the first mate. And there beside the first mate was Uncle Victor, still posing as an inspector.
The captain was shaking hands with the men and tipping his hat to the women. All of a sudden, Uncle Victor caught sight of Emily and Jackson.
“Aha!” he bellowed in his excitement. “There’s the girl I was telling you about, Captain. She’s a thief, and she’s got a lyin’, thievin’ boy along with her.”
“We’re not! We’re not!” cried Emily, trying to duck under Uncle Victor’s huge hands.
“Remove them quickly,” the captain growled to Uncle Victor. “I told you I did not want my guests alarmed.”
“Please listen to her!” Jackson pleaded.
But no one did, and Emily and Jackson found themselves being dragged across the grass toward the woods.
Suddenly a dog began barking somewhere. The barking became more and more frantic.
“Spook!” Emily cried.