towards the jail. Eddie left Rex in the tent and ran after the sheriff.
“You can’t take Pa away,” blurted Eddie, grabbing on to the lawman’s sleeve. “He’s no thief. This is a mistake!”
The sheriff brushed Eddie’s hand away. “Sorry, boy,” he said, “but I’ve got a job to do.”
Eddie ran over to the railroad supervisor. “Mr. Tate, my pa would never steal. He’s an honest man!”
“I know what I saw,” said Mr. Tate gruffly. “Maybe your pa will remember what he did with the payroll after cooling his heels in jail for a while. Now, go on back to your tent. This is grown-up business.”
“Eddie, do what Mr. Tate says,” said Pa, trying to keep his voice strong. “I’ll git this mess straightened out directly.”
Eddie had no choice but to obey. He went back to the tent and sat down on the edge of his cot to think. He was scared for Pa and for himself too. Rex padded over and put his head in Eddie’s lap. He whimpered softly and looked up soulfully at his master.
“Pa’s in big trouble, Rex ol’ boy. What are we going to do?”
Eddie stroked Rex’s head absentmindedly as he tried to come up with a way to help Pa, but it was no use. He just couldn’t think on an empty stomach.
“I guess we’d better get some breakfast, Rex. Then let’s go over to Matthew’s house.”
At the word breakfast, Rex’s tail began to thump the floor. He yipped a couple of times and Eddie could have sworn that Rex was smiling. After running a comb through his unruly red hair and splashing water on his face, Eddie called to Rex. Together, they left the tent and headed over to the dining hall.
Eddie left Rex at the door and entered the building alone. The dining hall was crowded with railroad workers who sat shoulder-to-shoulder at long, wooden tables, wolfing down their first meal of the day. He recognized one of the marl pit workers who had the same shift as Pa.
“Hey, boy,” the worker yelled, “where’s your pa this morning?”
Eddie pretended not to hear. He just wasn’t up to telling the man about Pa’s arrest so he hurriedly moved to the food line.
The cook handed him a plate of eggs, ham, and biscuits. Eddie put it on his tray and took a seat by himself in the corner. He toyed with his eggs for a few minutes, moving them back and forth across his plate. Finally, he gave up. He stuffed the biscuits in his pocket and left the building.
Outside, Rex was waiting patiently as usual. Eddie stooped down and fed his Lab the biscuits. Then they started toward Adderley Town. Along the way, Eddie passed several of his schoolmates playing catch. He gave them a half-hearted wave, but ignored their invitation to join the game. As he approached Matthew’s place, Eddie saw Matthew’s wife. She was cooking in the kitchen house, a small building built behind the main house like ones in the Bahamas.
“Looking for Matthew?” she called out. Eddie nodded. “He’s in the garden. Go on around.”
As soon as Matthew saw the droop in Eddie’s shoulders, he put down his hoe. “Something on your mind?”
Eddie nodded. “I . . . I . . .” He couldn’t finish his sentence.
“Go sit in the shade,” said Matthew. “I’ll make us a pitcher of limeade. I just picked some Key limes this morning and a cool drink would taste good about now.”
Eddie sat on a chair under the gumbo limbo tree and watched Matthew cut open some small, greenish-yellow limes and squeeze the juice into a pitcher of cool water. Then the old man sweetened the juice with sugar cane and poured it into two tall glasses. He handed one to Eddie and set the other on the small table beside his chair. Before he sat down, Matthew thoughtfully put a bowl of water on the ground for Rex.
The limeade was delicious, but neither his favorite drink nor relaxing in the shade could relieve Eddie’s fears. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh.
Matthew reached over and patted Eddie’s arm. “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
Eddie took another deep breath and then began talking. Once he started, it was easy to pour his heart out to his trusted friend. Matthew listened intently to every word about the sheriff’s early morning visit and Pa’s arrest.
When Eddie finished, he glanced hopefully at Matthew. “What should I do?”
The old man looked squarely into Eddie’s eyes. “Well, for now there’s nothing you can do. Why not stay here a while? Mrs. Lawrence is just about ready with breakfast. Then later, after the sheriff sorts things out, you can go over to the jail and see your father.”
Eddie felt the heaviness in his heart lift a little. He could always count on Matthew for practical advice.
Eddie’s appetite returned as the aroma of frying fish wafted from the kitchen house. When Mrs. Lawrence called out, “Breakfast is ready. Come and eat!” he jumped up and followed Matthew inside.
While Rex napped under the tree, the Lawrences and Eddie sat around the wooden table eating fried flounder along with the pineapple and cantaloupe from Matthew’s garden. For the first time, Eddie tried “hurricane ham,” the Bahamian name for dried conch. It was chewy, but good. When they finished, Mrs. Lawrence got up to clear the table. As she passed behind Eddie, she put her hand on his shoulder.
“Eddie,” she suggested, “get Matthew to tell you a railroad story while I put things away. That’ll take your mind off your troubles.”
Turning to Matthew, Eddie asked, “Would you tell me one?”
Matthew smiled widely, showing several gold-capped teeth. Besides fishing, there was nothing he liked better than talking about the railroad. The old man ran his hand several times over his white, close-cropped hair while he decided which story he’d share.
“Have I told you about the hurricane of nineteen-oh-six?” he finally asked.
“No,” replied Eddie. “I’d like to hear about it.”
That was all the encouragement Matthew needed and he launched into his story.
“After Mr. Flagler built the Florida East Coast Railway from Jacksonville to Miami,” began Matthew, “he decided to extend the line on down to Key West. Train tracks had to be built across one hundred and twenty-eight miles of coral reef and ocean floor. To keep construction on schedule, we had to work during September and October, the worst months for hurricanes.
“That worried me a lot because hurricanes are dangerous and unpredictable. That’s why I always carried this little barometer.”
Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass tube filled with water. A weed was floating in the bottom of it.
“Many railroad workers carried these and checked them as often as they did their watches. I still like to keep mine handy.”
Matthew went on to explain, “When the air pressure goes down, the weed rises. That means a hurricane is coming and you’d better get ready.
“About
