View from Pagoda Hill by Michaela Maccoll

View from Pagoda Hill by Michaela Maccoll

Author:Michaela Maccoll
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Astra Publishing House


chapter Twenty-Two

Everything had happened too quickly. First, Mr. Stemple had rushed her to catch a riverboat up the Hudson River to Albany. Instead of enjoying the majestic scenery, Mr. Stemple had chafed at the slow pace set by the mighty waterwheel. No sooner had they arrived in Albany then he chivvied her into a “cab” to the Albany Train Depot.

If only they could just slow down for a moment so Ning could catch her breath. When Mama had taken her to Longhua they had traveled leisurely in a small boat. There had been time to admire the pagoda rising out of the marshes. Americans were in such a hurry that Ning wondered how they even knew where they were.

The depot was a large room with wooden benches and a vaulted ceiling. In the late afternoon, the gas lamps were already lit.

“Please hurry, Miss Hamill,” Mr. Stemple said.

“Where are the trains?” Ning asked, panting as she ran to keep up with him. At least she was wearing her comfortable slippers.

A porter in a crisp uniform and shiny black shoes answered her question as he hoisted her trunk on his shoulder. “The trains are through that door, Miss.”

Mr. Stemple shoved a boxed lunch in her hands and beckoned for her to follow the porter outside to the empty track. She looked up and down the tracks eager to see a train up close.

“Where is it?” she asked.

“It will be here soon enough,” the porter assured her. “We’re running on time today.”

“How far is it to Baldwinsville?” she asked.

“About four hours,” he said. “It used to take a full day by horse or even by canal.”

Four hours until she met her grandparents. She would have preferred four months. If only she had listened to Mrs. Grand a little more … her worries were cut short by a gleaming machine rolling into the station like a black serpent. The engine, belching billows of white smoke, pulled four additional cars. She covered her ears at the awful squeal of metal scraping against metal as the train slowed. With a groan and long sigh, the metal beast came to a halt.

Ning gulped. It was bigger and heavier and louder than she had imagined. The front wheels were almost as tall as she was. Ning touched the side of the engine and quickly pulled her hand back from the hot surface.

An attendant slid open the door to the first car. An ingenious set of stairs unfolded from the train to the platform. Mr. Stemple climbed aboard without a backward glance.

Ning held back. Wasn’t it crazy to put herself into a metal box that moved so fast? But then she thought of Number One Boy telling her how brave she was. She couldn’t disappoint him.

“There you are, Miss Hamill!” Mr. Stemple’s irritated voice grated as she climbed the stairs. The car was hot and steamy, reminding her of summer in Shanghai. “Sit there,” he said, pointing at an empty leather bench. She sat, scooting over to be next to the window.



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