CHAPTER 19

As the day wears on, the temperature rises. There’s not much to do besides be hot and be sleepy in this dark place. I doze off once in a while, and my dreams are filled with wild images, some of my father’s dead face, some of Captain Greeney slipping a rope around my neck. When I wake, my throat hurts, as though I’ve been strangled in my sleep. All the while, the Medicine Head’s crate sits on my lap, or right beside me.

I’m more worried than ever that someone, anyone, is going to try to take it from me. I loosen the ropes on top of the crate and dismantle the knot, then retie it, making a sheet bend. I loosen them again and make a double sheet bend, loosen, then a water knot, loosen, then a square knot, loosen, and a double fisherman’s knot. Finally, I stop and let the rope hang loose on my lap.

This train car smells like damp straw, unwashed feet, and wet coats. Hardly any light gets in. Even though we’ve been at a standstill for nearly a day, my stomach hasn’t settled. It wants to empty whatever’s in it, which isn’t much.

I never felt stomach-sick while walking around on the flat, stay-steady ground.

I think for a while that we should go back. Is Captain Greeney too powerful for us to outwit? He’s got the authority of the whole United States Navy behind him, for goodness’ sake, and all I’ve got is a smart Negro friend who is breaking just about all the laws in the nation even if the laws are not right, a crooked dog with a fearful nature, and a porter who can’t even speak English.

Eustace and Fob fall asleep in a heap. I can’t sleep because the Medicine Head won’t quit. It moans and whines and whispers to me relentlessly. The noise of it, along with the heat, makes me want to bust open the door and jump off the train. But I can’t do that. I can only wish it would be quiet. I touch the rough wood of the crate, and I don’t even care when I get a splinter in my finger.

Do you know what sirens are? Well, they’re not real, so don’t worry if you’ve never heard of one. Sometimes the sailors aboard ships would think they heard women singing off in the far distances of the ocean. Sailors can be on ships a long time, even years away from their wives and mothers, and they get lonely for womenfolk. So the lonely ones who don’t know any better steer the ships right toward the music. Then they crash directly into rocks and wreck the vessels. The music they heard was only the wind whistling through those rocks and not women singing them lovely songs. Like I already said when I told you that story about the woman and her chicken, people do some illogical things when they’re lonely. They forget all about science and let their imaginations run wild. Not me, though. I definitely don’t want to do that.

Yet I hear it.

Almost like a whispered lullaby or the faint humming of a far-away child. I thrum my fingers on the top of the crate.

I want to touch the Medicine Head. It wants me to. It begs me to.

I slip my fingertips between the lid and the crate. I ease the lid off.

A scent like dry leather and dust and brittle hair hits my nose. It’s so powerful, I look up to where Eustace and Fob lie asleep to see if they’ve noticed, but they sleep on.

The Medicine Head sits askew in its straw. If nothing else, I should get it upright again. Without another thought, I hold my breath and reach in and put my hands on it.

Instantly, my hair blows back, and I feel like I’m on a train, but a much faster train than this one.

Clouds race in the sky. Ocean waves crash violently, and I hear what sounds like all the voices of everyone I’ve ever known talking at once. The images slow down, and I’m standing at the prow of a ship, freezing. It hurts to breathe the ice-cold air. My toes ache from the chill and from being cramped in tight boots.

I see nothing but gray-and-white ice.

“Note the time, Jenkins,” I hear a very familiar voice say. I try to turn and look, but I’m frozen where I stand.

“Yes, Captain,” I hear Jenkins reply.

“The continent of Antarctica. There she is, boys.” My father’s voice causes my heart to rush. A warmth runs through my veins.

I am with him on his discovery. I squint and try to see where he is, but I can’t. I see dark forms of men, but I can’t make out Father. I look out to where Antarctica should be and see dark mountainous shapes, white mist, and gray sky.

“We made it,” Father says. “Only the bravest, wisest crew could have managed it. Our names will go down in the history books, boys.”

I try to move my mouth, my lips, and my tongue. I try to tell him, I’m here! Father, I’m here, too! But my mouth doesn’t work. It’s frozen. My legs are frozen, too. I listen for him to say more, but I only hear the groaning of ice, the crunching of ice, and the squeaking of ice.

This is as close as the Medicine Head will allow me to get to Father.

And suddenly, I’m released.

I let go of the Medicine Head, and I am back in the train car, dark and dingy and hot. I’m sweating.

I exhale and look around. It’s still dim. Eustace and Fob are still sleeping. I’m panting, but my stomach doesn’t feel sick anymore. My heart is full. I got to hear Father. If the Medicine Head is a dangerous and evil artifact, why would it give me a vision so good, so delightful? Why would it give me just what I need? If all of its gifts were like that one, I could hold the Medicine Head all day, every day, for the rest of my life.

I want to hear him again. The Medicine Head rests in the straw, face-up. It has no expression. It’s not calling to me or begging me to hold it. But I want to.

I decide to touch the head again.

I hold my breath and let the wind come. The clouds, the waves, and the voices pass, just like before. When they slow, I’m back in my Kansas kitchen.

There’s Priss, looking pretty as ever but older. She’s wearing a new dress, a white one with blue cornflowers all over it. She’s not wearing an apron like she usually does. Mother is at the kitchen table, quiet but smiling a small smile. She’s wearing an old dress, a nice green frock she used to wear in New Bedford. Ruby is standing at a table frosting a round cake.

“You’ll make a fine wife, Miss Priss,” Ruby says. “Yes, ma’am.”

Priss is getting married? Who? Is this happening now? No. It can’t be. Priss wouldn’t get married without me. Is this the future? I turn around and around but don’t see anyone else there. But then I spot a train porter’s coat hanging over a chair. It looks just like the one Lopez wears.

I turn around again, looking for Eustace and Fob, but I don’t see them anywhere. Where could they be? I look out the window to the pigsty, and they’re not there, either. I try to call, Eustace? Eustace! But again, my mouth doesn’t work.

Out the window, I can see a cloud of dust rising from the road, rolling into the sky like a dark, ominous ghoul. I try to shout Hide! Hide! to all the people in my house. Captain Greeney is coming again! But it stays trapped in my mouth. Everyone continues with wedding preparations. They can’t hear me. And then Captain Greeney is in the yard, dismounting from his horse and yanking a long rope from his saddle. At the end of it is a hangman’s noose. Hide! Hide! I scream to Priss, to Mother, to Ruby. No one hears a thing.

And then I drop the Medicine Head.

I am back in the hot dark train car.

Moments later, before I can even catch my breath and shake the terrible images from my mind, the car door flies open.

Lopez leaps in. His eyes are big as buttons. He’s speaking loudly and quickly and pointing at me and the crate, where the Medicine Head lies for everyone to see. Eustace and Fob scramble to their feet.

“Slow down!” Eustace says. “I can’t understand you.” Then he sees me, sees the open crate, and his face gets mad, too. Even Fob barks as though he’s mad at me. I slap the lid on the crate.

Lopez continues to talk, but a bit more slowly. Eustace is listening and nodding.

“He wants to know what that is,” Eustace tells me. “He says Captain Greeney’s searching the train looking for a girl from Kansas who has stolen a government artifact.” Lopez looks at me with lowered brows and a pinched mouth.

“Captain Greeney is evil!” I shout. “Tell him, Eustace. Tell him Captain Greeney is evil. Tell him he killed my father!”

Eustace translates to Lopez, who is listening and nodding, but his eyes are skeptical, squinted. He exhales loudly.

“Greeney,” Lopez says, “muy malo.”

“Sí,” I say. I look him straight in the face. “I’ve got to keep this scientific artifact away from Captain Greeney.” Lopez is staring into my eyes now, and he nods, as if he’s understood every word I’ve said. “I have to take it somewhere safe.”

“Sí,” he says. He straightens his porter’s coat. I remember how I saw that same coat hanging over my own kitchen chair. “Muy importante,” he adds as he points to the Medicine Head’s crate and grimaces.

“Muy, muy importante.” I shake the crate a little. “Antarctica.”

He rolls his eyes like I’ve lost my wits. “Ay, yi, yi,” he says. I know exactly what that means without anyone translating it for me. Lopez stands there for a moment staring at the head. Even over the noise of the other trains, shouting and crashing in the next car can be heard.

“Rápido,” Lopez urges. “Hide,” he says in English.

Eustace and I get behind the crates again. Eustace waves and calls for Fob, but he won’t come. He’s taken a liking to Lopez, who has brought him scraps from the dinner cars for the past few days. Fob sits on his hind end right at Lopez’s feet.

Lopez pats Fob on the rump and motions for us to get our heads down. My heart’s racing fast, like horse hooves. The door bursts open, and the car is awash in light.

“But, sir, this isn’t a passenger car,” a man says. I see him between the slits of the crates, and he’s wearing a uniform like Lopez’s, but even fancier.

“I want every car searched thoroughly,” another man says. When he steps in, the light from outside is blocked, and the car grows dim again. He lifts a lantern up to his face, casting a hot glow on one temple, cheek, eye. Captain Greeney looks like a madman. I glance down at the Medicine Head, and it looks like it’s pursing its lips at me, sneering.

Lopez steps forward and speaks urgently at the two. He gestures to the crates and then spreads out his arms high and wildly.

“What’s he saying?” Captain Greeney asks the other train worker.

“Something about dynamite, I think,” the train worker says. “I don’t know. He’s just a porter.”

Greeney eyes the train car from corner to corner and floor to ceiling. He spots Fob.

“What’s that dog doing in here?” he demands.

Lopez sniffs and then points to the crates again. He speaks slowly to the train worker, who looks afraid. His eyes widen, and he tiptoes away from the crates. He takes off his hat and wipes his forehead. He’s very, very nervous.

“Sir, the porter says the crates carry nitroglycerine,” he says to Captain Greeney. “The chemical being tested as a blasting agent. The dog can smell a leak that could potentially create a big explosion and kill us all, sir. That’s what he said.” The train worker clears his throat and eagerly eyes the door.

I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of nitroglycerine. Well, to be honest, I don’t know much about it myself. But I do know it’s highly combustible, which means explosive. I have to admit I am very impressed that Lopez knows more about something than I do. But I intend to study up on it first chance I get. I don’t like anyone getting ahead of me in scientific advancements.

Then the train worker adds, “The porter says he’s seen no sign of a runaway girl with a stolen artifact, sir.”

Captain Greeney raises his head and seems to be smelling the air. “Is that so?” Captain Greeney reaches the lantern toward Fob, who barks loud and snaps at him. Captain Greeney recoils. “All right, porter.” He eyes the crates, but he’s careful not to put the lantern near them. I suppose he’s wondering if they’re really filled with nitroglycerine.

Captain Greeney walks toward the door, but then he stops. He puts his hand on his chest and begins to shout into the train car. “I would simply like to say that with this missing girl there may be a runaway slave, property of the Millers from Missouri. I would like it known that should this runaway slave come forward and provide the whereabouts of the missing girl, he would be granted his everlasting freedom and my personal protection.”

I suck in a gulp of air fast and then slap my hand over my mouth because I feel a cough coming. Eustace gets close to my face and puts his hands over my mouth, too. He’s shaking his head no, no, no, and I don’t know if he means “No, don’t cough” or “No, I don’t believe a word he says.” I’m hoping it’s both. The seconds go by, and while it feels like a week has passed, it’s only been half a minute.

Captain Greeney waits, I suppose, for Eustace to come forward, take his freedom, and give me and the Medicine Head up. But none of that happens because Eustace Miller is the truest friend a girl like me could ever have.

“Very well,” says Captain Greeney, “continue with your brave duties, porter. Protecting the train from a fiery doom and whatnot.” And then they turn and walk out the door. Lopez shuts it, and the car is dim again. Within an hour, the train is moving east toward New Bedford and the last leg of my journey.

Lopez watches over us all night, so I try to sleep because I know once I get to New Bedford, I’ll have a lot of work to do. But I keep seeing Lopez standing up to Captain Greeney, coming up with that clever tale, and saving me and the Medicine Head. I think about Eustace, who was promised his freedom in exchange for me but chose to stay with me on this journey instead. I even think about Fob, who barked and snapped at Captain Greeney, when he’s usually timid as a mouse. What have I done to deserve such brave, smart, and loyal friends?

I can’t think of much.