Lantern Sam and the Blue Streak Bandits (2 page)

In the weeks before the trip to New York, I had saved up a few pennies, and at the first newsstand I found, I bought the latest copies of my favorite comic books
—The Shadow
and
Dick Tracy
, along with a new one,
Tailspin Tommy
. I didn’t tell Mother (even though it was my money, I just couldn’t bear the thought of the disappointed look on her face when she saw what I had chosen to spend it on) and stuck them inside the cover of my sketchbook, saving them for a quiet, relaxing time when I could sit back and really
savor
every word and colored panel without feeling guilty.

Before I even had a chance to discover what evil lurked in the hearts of men, though, a tugboat towing a barge up the river caught my attention, so I fished a stub of pencil out of my shirt pocket and opened my sketchpad. I leafed past the drawings of the Manhattan skyscrapers I had made from our hotel room on Fifty-First Street and stopped at a clean sheet. Working quickly as the train rumbled north, I rough-sketched the scene, managing to get just the outline of the tugboat and a few details down before the train tracks followed a bend in the river and the scene disappeared from view.

“Hey, that’s pretty good,” said an unfamiliar voice. A
girl’s
voice.

I spun around and there she was, leaning over my seat, spying on me. Instinctively, I closed my sketchbook. I didn’t like showing my drawings to anyone, especially not to nosy girls I didn’t even know.

She pointed out the window as the train went around another bend, bringing the tugboat back into view. “Look! You can see it again. Open up your sketchbook! Hurry!”

But I just stared at her, gripping the pad tightly in my hand just in case she had some idea of snatching it from me. Girls are like that.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to draw anymore? You’re really
quite
talented. I peeked at the drawings you made of the city. Don’t you just
love
New York? I can’t imagine living anywhere else. We live on Fifth Avenue, right across from Central Park. Did you ever visit the park? You really should have, you know. Did you know that it’s more than eight hundred acres?”

I’m pretty sure my jaw was hanging open as I listened to the girl, who had obviously been spying on me from the moment I’d sat down.

“Do you always spy on people?” I asked when she finally took a breath. “My mother says that’s rude.”

The girl grinned at me, and her eyes, which perfectly matched her emerald-green cotton jumper, twinkled mischievously
behind the mop of dark curls that framed her face. “So does mine. But I don’t care. I can’t help it if I want to
know
about people. How are you supposed to learn about them if you don’t pay attention to them?
Close
attention.”

I didn’t know how to answer that. One thing I knew for sure: she wasn’t like any of the girls back home in Ashtabula.

While I sat there not saying a word, the girl kept right on talking, so fast that I had trouble keeping up. “I was the first one aboard, and I watched
everyone
else get on,” she said. “We’re staying in the Commodore Perry suite at the front of this car. We usually take the Twentieth Century Limited when we go to Chicago. It’s
so
much more luxurious, don’t you think?” Unfazed by my silence, she took a breath and continued. “I remember you—you were the last one to board, thirty seconds before departure time. Mother says I have a photographic memory. You were with your mother and your baby sister. Your mother was wearing a green dress and a black coat. And a hat with a purple—well, more like lavender, actually—flower on the left side. I’m Ellie, by the way. Ellie Strasbourg, like the city in France. Last month, I turned one whole decade old. What’s your name? Wait, let me guess … it’s … Herbert.”

“No!”

“Woodrow?”

“No.”

“Calvin?”

“No. It’s Henry,” I answered before she tried Grover or Abraham or Chester, or some other president’s name.

“Henry what?”

“Henry Shipley. That was my great-grandfather’s name, too.”

She reached her hand over the seat to shake mine. “Hi, Henry Shipley. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” As I looked around the car uncomfortably, certain that everyone was watching and laughing at me, she did just about the worst thing I could have imagined: she abandoned her seat and took the one next to me. “Where are you going?” she asked as I stood to leave, still gripping my sketchpad. I had to get out of there before she did something
really
embarrassing.

“I, um, have to go,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “We’re on a train. Where could you possibly have to go? I just want someone to talk to. I’m not going to bite you. Although Father says that I may
talk
someone to death one day. Isn’t that just the funniest thing ever? The only other children on this train are much too young to be interesting, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me—at least until Erie. That’s where we’re getting off.
We’re going to Conneaut Lake Park to ride the Blue Streak. Have you heard of it?”

I sat back down, suddenly impressed. Of
course
I had heard of the Blue Streak. Every kid for miles around had heard of it and dreamed of riding it. It was the newest, biggest, fastest, and scariest roller coaster in the whole country, and its grand opening was scheduled for May 23, the very next day.

“You’re taking the train all the way from New York just to ride the Blue Streak? Boy, you’re lucky. I doubt if I’ll
ever
get to ride it, and I only live a few miles away. Mother says amusement parks are a waste of money.”

“Oh. Sorry. I hope I didn’t sound like I was bragging. It’s—my daddy is friends with Mr. Vettel, the man who designed it, and he invited us. I know—I’ll ask him if you can come, too!”

“I don’t think so. My parents would never let me go. And besides, my father is coming home tonight. He’s been away on his ship for weeks.”

“Is he an explorer?” Ellie asked. “Like Sir Francis Drake? Or Robert Peary? We learned about them in school. Don’t you just
love
learning about history?”

Not especially, I thought, suddenly picturing myself staring at the clock in history class, willing the hands to move faster. “He’s not an explorer; he’s the captain of a ship
that carries iron ore, the
Point Pelee
. I’d rather learn about science any day. I’m going to be a naval architect and design the biggest, fastest, and best ships ever. You have to know lots about science to do that.”

Ellie hopped up and down in her seat. “You can come to New York and work for my daddy! He
builds
ships! It will be so much fun!”

“I don’t know … it takes a long time to learn everything you need to know. I have to go to college first, and then …”

“I’m going to be a famous detective,” said Ellie. “Just like Nancy Drew. Have you read any of her stories? No, I don’t suppose you have. Mother says it’s not a proper occupation for a lady, but I don’t care.”

As if I weren’t uncomfortable enough with the idea of sitting next to a girl I barely knew, she leaned even closer to me. “Do you want to know a secret?” Without waiting for a response, she continued, whispering, “There are
criminals
aboard this train.”

I felt my eyes widen. I had to admit to myself that she was getting a lot more interesting—for a girl.

“I thought that might get your attention,” she said.

“How do you know they’re criminals?”

“Simple. I recognized them from their pictures. Every Friday the post office puts up new pictures of the FBI’s
most-wanted criminals, and I go every week to study them. The only problem is, I can’t remember their names. I’m better with pictures than words.”

It took a second for that all to sink in. Had she really just said that she went to the post office every week to study the Most Wanted posters? I glanced down at my sketchbook to make sure she couldn’t see the comic books.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I’m keeping an eye on them, or I was, until I lost them. They must have gone into their compartment. I’ll bet they’re planning something, because they were acting very suspiciously. Before the train left New York, they were talking with someone I couldn’t see on the platform. They tried to hide behind a baggage cart, but I saw them.”

“You think they’re going to rob the train?” At least that would make the trip a little more exciting, I thought.

“I don’t know. Yet, that is. That’s what
we’re
going to find out.”

“We’re?”

“You
do
want to help me, don’t you?”

“I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “My mom wouldn’t like it—”

“Just think of it. We could be famous,” said Ellie. “Like Dick Tracy. Or the Shadow.”

Oh, that’s just swell—she must have seen my comics!

“Maybe you should tell the conductor instead,” I said.

“What should you tell me?” asked Clarence the Conductor, who had approached us from behind without our noticing. “Is something wrong?”

Our gasps were followed by sighs of relief as we both spun around to see the conductor’s kindly face gazing down at us.

“Oh—you scared me!” said Ellie. “I didn’t even hear you come into the car.”

“Sorry, miss—didn’t mean to frighten you. Was there something you two wanted to tell me?”

I looked at Ellie, who shook her head ever so slightly, and then up at Clarence. “No, sir. We were just … playing a little game, that’s all.”

Clarence, who seemed to know that I wasn’t telling the whole truth, didn’t push the matter any further. “Is this your first time aboard the Shoreliner?” When I nodded, he checked his pocket watch. “How would you kids like to meet a good friend of mine? I’ll take you on a little tour of the train, too. My name is Clarence, by the way. Clarence Nockwood. I’m the head conductor.”

Ellie jumped to her feet. “I’m Ellie, and this is Henry, and we would
love
to take a tour of the train. Can we see the kitchen? I always wanted to see inside a train kitchen.”

“Don’t see why not,” said Clarence. “Follow me.”

He gave us what he called the “nickel tour” (at the end, I was relieved to learn that it wasn’t
literally
a nickel tour, and the money Mother had given me remained safe in my pocket), leading us back up the long passageways and allowing us to poke our heads into an empty roomette. When we got to the dining car, he squeezed us through the cramped, steamy kitchen, where the chef—busy preparing for the dinner service—smiled at Ellie and me, handing us each a freshly baked dinner roll, still warm from the oven. Then Clarence led us to the car at the front of the train—the one that I had peeked into during my self-guided tour. In addition to the baggage and mail, that car also contained the dormitory compartment where all the conductors, porters, cooks, and other train workers took their breaks and slept when they were off duty. Clarence pulled the curtain of his private section back, and a long, lean calico cat slowly lifted his head from the bed and looked up at our surprised faces.

“Mrrrraaaaaa,”
he said.

“Kids, meet my old friend Lantern Sam,” said Clarence. “Sorry to interrupt your deep-thinking session, big fella, but I want you to meet some new friends, Ellie and Henry. Sam’s been with me on the Shoreliner for going on five
years now. Used to ride the freight trains, but decided that the food’s better and the beds are more comfortable on passenger trains.”

“Lantern Sam—that’s a funny name,” Ellie said. “Can I pet her?”

“Absolutely, but I should tell you, she’s a he.”

“Are you
sure
?” Ellie asked, running her hand down Sam’s back. “I thought all calicoes were girls.”

“
Almost
all calicoes,” said Clarence.

“What’s a calico?” I asked, wondering if
calico
had something to do with the cat’s notched ears. He looked as if he’d been in a couple of good fights—on the losing side.

“A black and white and orange cat,” said Ellie. “They’re always girls—at least that’s what I heard.”

“He looks like he’s wearing an eye patch,” I said. “Like a pirate.”

“Why’s he called Lantern Sam?” Ellie asked.

“That’s a long story, maybe for another time. What I can tell you is that Sam is one in a million,” Clarence announced proudly.

“Oh, brother. Here we go again,”
said a voice from behind the curtain of the next bed over—or at least that’s where I
thought
it came from. “
It’s not ‘one in a million,’ Clarence. Remember what that odd duck from Soseau University—the one with the bow tie and the elbow patches—told you? Professor Dinkelakker?
Dunglepfeffer? Dimpledoofus? Well, whoever he was, he said I was one in three thousand. That I was a curiosity, nothing more. As if a man who goes out in public in a polka-dotted bow tie has room to talk. If anybody’s a curiosity, it’s
him.”

“One in three thousand is still pretty rare,” I said with a shrug.

Clarence stiffened and looked at me so suspiciously that I wondered what I had done wrong. “What did you say … about Sam being one in three thousand?”

I was
very
confused. Maybe Clarence is a little hard of hearing, I thought, and didn’t hear his neighbor. “I, um, just heard what that other man said.”

“What other man?” Ellie asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Just now,” I said. “Somebody, right behind one of those curtains. Oh, come on. You
must
have heard him. He said something about a professor telling Clarence that Lantern Sam wasn’t one in a million, that it was only one in three thousand.”

Ellie looked at me as if I had just told her that the Shoreliner was made of moldy cheese. “I didn’t hear anybody.” She looked at Clarence. “Did you?”

“Uh-oh,”
said the voice.
“Looks like the little beggar can hear me.”

“There it is again!” I said. “He said, ‘Uh-oh. Looks like the little beggar can hear me.’ Hey! I’m not a beggar!”

“I still didn’t hear anything,” said Ellie. “Who called you a beggar?”

Lantern Sam sat up on the bed and stared directly into my eyes for an uncomfortably long time. “Wh-what’s he doing?” I asked, too frightened to move. “It looks like he’s trying to hypnotize me.”