29

The rain was making visibility through the train’s windows impossible. Frederick had no way of knowing how bad things actually were. The train was rattling more than usual as gusts of wind slammed against it.

“Whoa!” A little girl screamed when the train lurched yet again. “Mommy, I’m scared!”

People were talking loud, trying to drown out the noise.

“I’m not quite sure, but I think we passed right by the High Island terminal without stopping,” A young Negro man seated in front of him said.

“What? Why wouldn’t they stop the train? Surely there were more people needing to board.” Frederick asked. A knot gripped Frederick’s stomach as he stood up. He got no more than six steps away when the train shot forward. The impact sent Frederick down to his hands and knees. The other passengers were tossed about, and varying groans and startled screams filled the air.

Frederick rushed to the window to look outside. Water lapped against the side of the train. Rainwater or seawater? Probably both. Apprehension rose in his chest.

The forward door opened from the outside. The conductor climbed inside the car and snapped the door shut. He swiped his cap off and wiped rain from his eyes.

For a brief moment, the passengers silently stared at the man.

“What’s going on? Why did we stop?” A portly man’s words were tinged with anger.

The conductor held up his hands. “All right, now, quiet down and listen. We have a situation here we have to deal with.”

“What kind of situation?”

“All right, here’s how it is. We’re not far from Port Bolivar. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the train stalled out, and the water is continuing to rise. I figure we’re about eleven miles from the ferry.”

Comments rumbled through the crowd of passengers.

“What does that mean to us? How do you propose we get to the ferry landing to get back to Galveston?” The portly man spoke again.

A troubled look came over the railroad worker’s face. He gripped the seatback in front of him. “That’s another problem. If the waves are this bad inland, I can only imagine how bad they must be at the ferry. In the past they’ve stopped running the ferry when the weather is bad like this. I don’t know. If it were me, I wouldn’t want to risk it.”

“So what do you propose we do?” someone demanded.

“Well, the engineer suggested we all hunker down and wait it out.”

Frederick could stay onboard the train and wait out the storm, but staying meant he had no way of knowing the fate of Sarah and her family. “Excuse me, sir, but do we have the choice of leaving the train…to seek shelter elsewhere?”

“Sure, I suppose you could leave, but why risk your life out in this storm when you’re safe and sound right here in this sturdy train?”

Murmurs came from all around the train car.

“All right, now listen to me. The engineer is doing everything he can to get the train back up and running. Then we can back the engine toward Beaumont and out of this mess.” He removed his cap and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “All right, those are your choices. You can wait it out here, or you can leave and face who knows what.” He flipped his hands up and walked toward the door.

Frederick gripped the seat. Should he take his chances in the storm? What if Sarah needed him? Sure, she lived in a sturdy ranch house, but was anything strong enough to withstand a storm of this magnitude?

A palm frond glanced off the side of the train and slid down the rain-soaked window.

He had to get to Sarah.