Читать книгу Kidnapped in Key West - Edwina Raffa - Страница 8

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Trouble in Marathon

January 1912

“You’re in big trouble, boy!” growled Frank Malone. The burly railroad worker stomped the mud from his boots in the doorway of the Florida schoolhouse and glared at his son.

Twelve-year-old Eddie Malone glanced up at his father from the blackboard where he was writing one hundred times “I will not skip school.” He quickly lowered his blue eyes and nervously pulled at the cowlick in his red hair. Then he went back to his punishment.

Frank Malone was not in good humor. Being called from the job to meet with his son’s teacher meant missing half a day’s work. These days, all railroad employees were expected to work around the clock. Henry Flagler’s Key West Extension had to be finished in a week so the famous tycoon could make his ceremonial ride to Key West. Frank looked grim as he removed his straw hat and crossed the rough plank floor to meet with Miss Inez Brown, Marathon’s schoolmarm.

Miss Brown was a stout middle-aged woman whose face constantly wore a scowl. Her students called her Frowny Browny behind her back and frequently made jokes about her wide figure when she turned to write on the chalkboard. Now she sat grading seatwork in the back of the one-room school, barely visible over the clutter of papers and books piled high on her desk.

At the sight of Eddie’s father, Miss Brown tucked a loose strand of gray hair into her bun. She dabbed the perspiration on her neck with a lacy handkerchief and straightened the belt around her thick waist.

Miss Brown greeted Eddie’s father and motioned him to a chair across from her. Then she swiveled around to get the attendance record behind her on the bookcase. As she strained to reach the top shelf, the seam of her sleeve made a ripping sound. The pink flesh of her upper arm popped out like a sausage from its casing.

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Miss Brown, momentarily flustered. She hastily snatched the record book and then reached for the shawl draped on her chair. After wrapping it around her shoulders, Miss Brown sat with her arms clamped stiffly against her sides.

A nervous snicker started at the back of Eddie’s throat. He bit his tongue to stifle it. He had already dug himself into a deep hole of trouble and laughing at the teacher now would be disastrous. Instead, he fixed an earnest look on his face as he continued to write and listen in on the adults’ conversation.

“I’ll get right to the point,” said Miss Brown, peering sternly at Frank Malone over her wire-rimmed glasses. Her look dared him to mention the ripping incident and even Frank Malone’s toughness evaporated under such scrutiny.

“Eddie’s failing because he’s missed too many lessons. He must come to school every day or he will repeat seventh grade!”

Eddie’s eyes widened in alarm. He cringed in spite of himself at Miss Brown’s dreadful warning.

Uh-oh. I’m in for a switching and now that Pa knows I’ve been skipping school, there’ll be no more fishing for me.

Eddie stole a glance at Pa who was looking down at his calloused hands, roughened by shoveling marl at the pit. Then Pa looked up at the teacher.

“I apologize for my son’s behavior, Miss Brown,” he said. “To tell the truth, I ain’t been supervisin’ him real close. You see, Eddie’s ma died back in Jacksonville not long ago and we’ve been goin’ through some bad times. When I took on this job with the Florida East Coast Railway, or F.E.C. as we call it, I thought Marathon would be a good place for Eddie. I know schoolin’ is important but he really likes to fish and swim.”

“School comes first,” said Miss Brown firmly. She pursed her lips for emphasis. “Eddie must be here every day.”

“I’ll try to see to it,” he said, “but we’ve been workin’ night and day to finish the railroad extension. A week from Sunday, a survey train will be sent to Key West and back to test the tracks. Mr. Flagler’s countin’ on us to be finished by then.”

“I sure want Eddie to get schoolin’,” Frank Malone continued. “Eddie’s ma wanted that too. She always made sure he done his lessons and spoke good English. Someday I’d like him to get a desk job, not one fightin’ mosquitoes and diggin’ in the marl pit like me. Buildin’ up roadbeds for them tracks is gruelin’ work.”

Miss Brown sighed. “Yes, well, please talk to your son, Mr. Malone. A boy’s father can be a tremendous influence.”

“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Frank Malone standing up. “I’ll do that.”

Then turning to Eddie, he said, “When you finish them sentences, git on home to your chores. I’m headin’ back to work, but make no mistake, when I git home tonight, we’ll talk.”

Frank Malone jammed his straw hat on his head and strode out the door. Eddie knew what “we’ll talk” meant. Most likely, Pa would give him a good switching for skipping school.

After finishing up sentences ninety-nine and one hundred, Eddie waited impatiently for his dismissal. Finally Miss Brown glanced at the clock on the wall and waved him out. Freed at last, Eddie burst out of the schoolhouse into the bright sunshine of the Florida Keys.

“Come on, Rex,” called Eddie. A big yellow Labrador retriever was waiting patiently in the shade of a buttonwood tree. At the sight of his master, he sprang to his feet and wagged his tail happily.

Eddie bent down to pat Rex’s head and whispered, “Pa won’t be home till late. Let’s go on over to Matthew’s house. There’s plenty of time to finish my chores before Pa gets home.”

Whenever Eddie needed a friend, he would walk over to see Matthew Lawrence. Matthew was a kind old man from the Bahamas who lived in Adderley Town, the small black community in Marathon. Before retiring, Matthew had worked as a carpenter for the Florida East Coast Railway and he liked entertaining Eddie with stories about the railroad.

When Eddie first came to Marathon, Matthew had taken him under his wing. The old man owned a small sailboat that he used when harvesting sponges to sell in Key West. Matthew had taught him how to sail the boat and sometimes let him borrow it to go fishing.

Eddie threw sticks for Rex to fetch as he walked along the sandy path to Adderley Town. When they arrived, Matthew was resting under the gumbo limbo tree near his white concrete house. The green wooden shutters at the windows were propped open, letting in a cool breeze.

“Hey, Matthew. How are you?”

“I’m doing all right,” said Matthew. “How about yourself?”

Sheepishly, Eddie confided in his friend about his trouble at school.

When he finished, Matthew said sympathetically, “I know you’d rather be outdoors, but you need book learning too.”

“Yeah,” sighed Eddie. “It’s just more fun to catch fish than to memorize poetry.”

Matthew smiled and said, “You’ve got that right.”

“Can you go fishing with me now?” asked Eddie.

“Sorry, but I’m weeding the garden today. My melons and squash need more room to grow,” said Matthew, “but you’re welcome to take the sailboat out by yourself.”

“Thanks,” replied Eddie. “I’m going to fish over at Sand Dollar Key.”

“Sounds good,” said the old man. Then looking up at the sky, he added, “Just keep your eye on the weather. My achy bones tell me a storm is brewing in the Gulf.”

Eddie whistled for Rex and hurried toward the dock where Matthew’s sailboat was tied. Rex hopped in first and sat straight up on his haunches ready to catch the wind in his ears. Eddie picked up a fishing pole that leaned against the mangroves. Then he jumped in behind Rex and set sail for his favorite place to fish and swim.

The fish weren’t biting so Eddie anchored the boat offshore. He pulled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and dove into the clear, blue water. Rex jumped in after him and paddled around. When Eddie surfaced he took a deep breath and plunged deeper to search for horse conchs on the coral reef. Schools of tiny yellow and blue striped fish darted past him as he dove again and again.

The sun had dropped low in the western sky when Eddie realized that once again he’d lost track of time. Quickly he returned the sailboat to Matthew’s dock and ran home with Rex. It was nearly dark by the time he reached the camp where all the new railroad employees and their families lived. As he approached his tent, Eddie saw Pa’s muddy boots by the screen door.

“Uh-oh, Pa’s home and my chores aren’t done,” said Eddie, holding Rex back by his collar. “We’d better stay away and give Pa time to cool off.”

With his devoted companion at his side, Eddie ambled through the dusty, deserted streets of Marathon, killing time until he could go home. As he slapped at mosquitoes that bit his arms, he was glad it was January and not summertime. He’d heard the mosquitoes were so thick in the summer months they looked like black curtains covering the window screens.

He and Rex continued to wander the roads until they came to the water tower by the railroad tracks. As Eddie looked up toward the top, a full moon slipped out from a bank of dark rain clouds.

“Stay, Rex,” ordered Eddie. He began to climb the rungs of the tower’s ladder, tasting and smelling the salty sea air as he went. When he reached the top, he sat down and let his legs dangle between the rails. Marathon spread out below him like a picnic cloth on the ground and the whole town was quiet. Eddie watched the lights in the men’s dormitories go out one by one as the exhausted railroad workers turned in for the night.

Looking down from the tower, Eddie could see the paymaster car parked at the Florida East Coast Railway station. He knew that tomorrow hundreds of hardworking railroad men would line up to receive their wages in gold coins. They had come from many different countries to fill the ranks of workers Henry Flagler needed to build his Over-Sea Railroad.

Then Eddie noticed his pa’s supervisor, Mr. Tate, out on his nightly stroll. When he looked more closely, he saw Pa coming from the opposite direction. Frank Malone waved to Mr. Tate as the two men passed in the road.

Eddie hoped Pa would walk on by. At that moment, however, Rex spotted Pa too and let out a friendly bark to greet him. Frank Malone stopped, then stepped back away from the water tower and looked up.

“I see you, Eddie,” he called. “Git on down here.”

Eddie began to climb down very slowly. He needed time to think of a good excuse for disobeying Pa.

Maybe if I point out the paymaster car and remind Pa that tomorrow is payday, he’ll get in a better mood and forget about the switching.

When Eddie reached the bottom, he stood silently before his father. Frank Malone raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an explanation. Seeing his father’s serious look, Eddie decided to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Pa,” said Eddie. “I went fishing and lost track of time. I should have done my chores like you said. Are you going to punish me?”

Frank Malone paused for a minute to consider the situation. Then to Eddie’s surprise, Pa didn’t punish him. Instead he put an arm around Eddie’s shoulders.

“No, son,” he said. “I guess you’ve had enough for one day. When you wasn’t at the tent, I was right worried.”

“I know you’ve had to fend for yourself lately,” he continued. “And I wish things was different, but I’m doin’ the best I can . . . I need you to do your best too.”

Eddie looked up at his pa and replied solemnly, “I’ll try, Pa. I really will.”

Just then a flash of lightning lit the sky and a roll of thunder rumbled in the distance. “Me and you better move along,” said Pa looking up at the threatening clouds.

Eddie called to Rex and the three started back just as the skies opened up and a winter rain began to fall. As they crossed the tracks to reach their camp, Eddie suddenly stopped.

“There’s a light moving inside the paymaster car,” said Eddie pointing down the tracks. “What do you think it is, Pa?”

Frank Malone turned and looked toward the paymaster car.

“Might be trouble,” said Pa. “You go on home while I take a look-see.”

When Eddie and Rex got back to the tent, they were soaking wet. Eddie dried himself off and then dried Rex. After hanging the towel neatly over the indoor clothesline, he wearily crawled into his cot and covered himself with a blanket. Rex curled up on the floor beside him and soon the two were fast asleep.

Just as the early morning light crept into the camp, Eddie was awakened by a booming voice outside their tent.

“Frank Malone, come out in the name of the law!”