Lantern Sam and the Blue Streak Bandits (24 page)

“Dodge-ems!” cried Ellie. “Let’s go! You’re going to love them, Henry!”

Mrs. Strasbourg handed Ellie and me printed yellow
tickets. “Those are good for the whole day—you can ride anything you want, as much as you want.”

I hesitated. It was too good to be true. “I … I … can I, really? Isn’t Father …”

“Go!” Mother urged. “It’s a beautiful day. We’ll meet you for the ceremony at a quarter of one. Just be careful of your cast, all right?”

After more than an hour of bumping, spinning, and twirling on the Dodge-ems and the Tumble Bug, and marveling at the forest of lumber that supported the winding rails of the Blue Streak, we walked across the midway and bought candied apples.

“Are you ready to admit yet that I was right?” Ellie asked, smiling smugly despite the juice dripping down her chin.

“About what?”

“Remember yesterday afternoon, right after we first met Lantern Sam and Clarence? You said that once you got off the train, you would never see me again, and I told
you
that we were going to be friends forever, and then you laughed at me. Well, ha-ha back at you, because you got off the train with me and here we are.”

“It’s one day! It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.
That’s not forever. What’s going to happen after today? I’m going home, and you’re going back to New York.”

“You just can’t admit that I’m right and you’re wrong.”

“The only thing I’ll admit is that you’re stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn. I’m
right
.”

Across the midway, a flash of sunlight reflecting off a man’s bald head caught my eye—it was Judge Ambrose! I would have known that rotund head and matching body anywhere. “What’s
he
doing here?” I snarled.

“Who? Ohhh.
Him
.”

“Come on; don’t let him see us,” I said, leading Ellie around a corner and out of sight. “I don’t want to have to talk to him.”

“Shouldn’t he be in court or something?” she asked, peeking around the side of the building.

“It’s Sunday,” I said.

“So? Criminals don’t take Sunday off. Judges shouldn’t, either.”

I grinned at her. “Maybe he’s here to ride the Blue Streak, just like us.”

“I find that
very
hard to believe. It’s weird, isn’t it? He’s here. Madeline Parker and that Alabama man. Your family. My family. Half the people from the train are here. I wonder if there’s anybody else.”

“I’ll bet you a nickel that Phyllis Finkleman is here.”

“Who?”

“You know, that lady with the whole flock of birds on her head. She’s some kind of gossip reporter, and I think she’s following Madeline Parker and her husband. Except she doesn’t know they’re married. That’s why she won’t leave them alone. But if they’re here, she’s here.”

“That’s terrible,” said Ellie.

“Look! There she is!” Sure enough, standing across the midway and pretending to read a newspaper was Phyllis, but instead of birds, a bouquet of mixed flowers seemed to have sprouted from the top of her head. It was obvious to me that she was spying on someone.

Following the direction of her gaze, I spotted Madeline Parker and Alabama Woodward, who were laughing and enjoying a huge puff of pink cotton candy.

“Maybe we ought to warn them,” I said. “I would hate it if somebody was spying on me all the—” The clanging of a bell cut me off—it was time for the grand opening of the Blue Streak!

We ran all the way to the temporary platform that had been set up near the entrance. The stage was decked out in flags and banners; it looked as if it were ready for a Fourth of July celebration, and across the opening to the roller coaster was a wide bright blue ribbon. When we got close,
Ellie cried out, “That’s Daddy!” and took off ahead of me, racing up the steps of the platform, where her father, fresh off an eastbound train from one of his shipbuilding yards in Cleveland, had joined her mother.

And that’s when I got a surprise of my own: my father, looking slightly uncomfortable in a dark suit, waved to me from the platform.

“Henry!” he shouted. “Come on up!”

I stopped and stared for a moment; he smiled at me, then turned and whispered something in Mother’s ear—something that made her laugh out loud.

“What are you waiting for?” said Father.

I flew up the stairs and into his arms, where he hugged me tight for a long time, then mussed my hair. He held me by the shoulders in front of him and looked me up and down, performing his usual home-from-the-sea inspection.

“You’ve grown an inch,” he declared. “And you’re too thin. We need to get some meat on those bones. And some proper trousers. Those don’t really fit you anymore. And you need a haircut. You look like one of my crew!”

“Yes, sir.”

“But it is good to see you, son. Your mother tells me you had quite a trip yesterday. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

Ellie came toward us, holding tightly to her father’s hand.

“Here he is, Daddy. This is Henry Shipley, the boy I was telling you about.”

Mr. Strasbourg reached out his hand and I shook it firmly, the way Father taught me. “Well, Henry Shipley, it is a real pleasure to meet the boy who rescued my daughter. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“I—I—it’s nice to meet you, sir,” I stammered, looking to my father for help.

“Mr. Strasbourg, I’m Charles Shipley. We’ve met before; I’m—”

“Captain of the
Point Pelee
,” finished Mr. Strasbourg. “Of course I remember you. Good to see you again, Charles.” He pointed to me with his chin. “That’s a fine boy you’ve got, Shipley. Very fine, indeed.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m proud of him.”

Just then the bell rang again and I turned around to find that a crowd of several hundred people had gathered around the stage.

The master of ceremonies, looking quite ridiculous (at least I thought so) in an Uncle Sam suit with striped suspenders, a straw hat, and a red, white, and blue bow tie, came around to us and asked us to take our seats.

“Here? On the stage?” I asked.

Father winked at me. “Get used to it, son. You’re a hero.”

“What? No, I’m not. I didn’t do anything special. Anybody could have done it.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Father. “But the way I understand it is, you actually
did
it.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” cried the master of ceremonies, “boys and girls, welcome to Conneaut Lake Park for the grand opening of the most spectacular roller coaster in all of America, if not the world—the Blue Streak! Before we get on with the ribbon cutting and other festivities, I’d like to ask some special guests to join me here on the stage. Judge Ambrose? Are you out there?”

My eyes almost popped out of my head. Criminy, what was it going to take to get away from that guy?

“On my way,” the judge shouted, pushing through the crowd. The stairs creaked noisily under his feet, and then there he was, brushing past my knees as he joined the emcee at the front of the stage.

“Here he is, ladies and gentlemen,” said the man in the Uncle Sam suit. “A criminal’s worst nightmare and Crawford County’s most famous citizen: Judge J. P. Ambrose! You may think you know old ‘Hanging Joe’ Ambrose, but what you probably don’t realize is that this man has a heart of
gold
. A few years back, in his hometown, he started the Linesville School for Wayward Children, giving troubled
young people a second chance and a place to learn an honest trade. Today, two members of the class of 1932—the school’s first graduating class—will join a very select group as the Blue Streak races around its track for the very first time. Please welcome Miss Sally Oatley and Mr. Thomas Stapleton!”

Sally and Thomas must have been somewhere behind the platform, because I didn’t see them moving through the crowd. Suddenly they popped up onto the stage, where they were immediately surrounded by people eager to shake their hands, including Uncle Sam and Judge Ambrose.

Next to be introduced was Edward Vettel, the designer of the Blue Streak, followed by Mr. Strasbourg, who was, in turn, followed by a politician from Harrisburg who looked pained to be there—as if it were the last place on earth he wanted to be on a beautiful Sunday in May. He told everyone who would listen about the golf game he was missing.

The master of ceremonies cleared a space at the front of the stage before he made his final introduction: “And now please join me in welcoming our very special guest, the woman who will cut the ribbon, officially opening the Blue Streak for business. She’s a star of stage and screen, and she will be giving a one-time-only performance in the park’s famed Temple of Music tonight.… Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Madeline Parker!”

She had been waiting at the back of the stage and bounded out as the crowd greeted her enthusiastically. I looked down into the crowd, and sure enough, there was Phyllis Finkleman, in the front row, the flowers in her hat wobbling back and forth as she frantically scribbled notes on her pad.

“Thank you so much!” Madeline shouted, her powerful stage voice reaching even those in the very back. “Ed Vettel is an old friend, and I was thrilled that he asked me to be here at Conneaut Lake Park today for the unveiling of his latest and, he assures me, his greatest creation. I have a little announcement I’d like to make—well, maybe not so little,” she added, smiling.

“Alabama, would you come here, please?”

Although he looked uncertain, Alabama joined her.

“Folks, I’d like to introduce someone to you—someone you’re going to be hearing a lot about one day soon. This handsome gentleman is Mr. Alabama Woodward, and he is the finest playwright on Broadway. I’m also very proud to tell you that he happens to be—as of yesterday—my husband!”

They may not have known who he was, and they certainly had not seen any of his plays, but the people in the crowd knew a big story when they heard it, and they cheered wildly.

Madeline Parker held up her hand to quiet the crowd. “Thank you; thank you so much. And after a wonderful day of enjoying all the rides and the lake, I hope you’ll all come out and join me tonight for some music and dancing. Now, I know you’re eager to ride the Blue Streak, so let’s get on with the show, as we say on Broadway—but I’d like to have some friends of mine give me a hand cutting that ribbon, if it’s all right with them. Can I get Mr. Henry Shipley and Miss Ellie Strasbourg to join me?”

I stood up slowly, and with a little push from Father I sheepishly walked to the front of the stage, where I met Ellie.

“Come on, you two,” said Madeline. “Don’t be shy.” She put her arms around us and pointed us at the crowd. “Folks, these two young people were on the train from New York with Alabama and me yesterday, and … well, it was quite a trip. I’ll leave it at that for now, but trust me, you’re going to be hearing more about it real soon. I’ve spoken to the manager of the park and Mr. Vettel, and we all agree that you two should be the first two riders on the Blue Streak. You’ll be in the front seat … of the first car … on the very first ride! How does that sound? Now let’s cut that ribbon!”

On the short walk from the stage to the Blue Streak’s loading platform, I’m quite certain that my feet did not touch the ground; I floated on air.

“Can you believe it?” said Ellie as we slid into our seat. “The first ones
ever
. We’ll probably be in history books and everything.”

I looked doubtfully at her as a photographer from the
Erie Daily Times
pointed his camera at us. “Smile, kids!”

“How does it feel to be a celebrity?” asked Phyllis Finkleman, still scribbling in her notebook and not really listening to our answers. Her eyes were glued to Madeline Parker and Alabama Woodward.

The seat directly behind us was reserved for Sally and Thomas, the two former students from Judge Ambrose’s school. They climbed in without saying a word.

I leaned over and whispered to Ellie, “I think those two people from the judge’s school are
really
scared.”

“Maybe they’ve never been on a roller coaster before,” Ellie said. “Aren’t you scared—just a teensy little bit?”

“No,” I said firmly. I wasn’t lying. I couldn’t wait for the ride to begin.