Free Eastland by Marian Cheatham

have listened to her. Stayed home with Mae.”
“Mae would never have agreed to that. She had a mind of her
own. We both know that.”
He stared out the cab, nodding. “Mae used to tease me about
being selfish. Who’s going to keep me in line now?”
“Mae will still be around to do the job. You’ll see. We’ll find
her. But it sounds to me like you might be learning how to keep
yourself in check.”
“We’re getting close,” Salvatore announced. I glanced
outside.
The darkening Chicago streets were jammed with traffic,much
as they had been this morning along the dock. Men bicycled in
and around cars. Horse carts loaded with people clomped alongside other hackney cabs for hire. Women and children navigated
the busy sidewalks. Streetcars bulged with passengers, many of
whom packed the steps, both front and back.
“Where’s everyone going?” But in truth, I already knew the
answer. The traffic went only one direction.
Downtown.
“To the riverfront,” said Salvatore, confirming my suspicions.
“To see the Eastland .”
“What? Why would any sane person want to see that?”
“The public craves disaster. Don’t understand it myself, but the
more tragic, the more intriguing. And this catastrophe has it all.
Death, destruction, melodrama. What more could people want?”
I couldn’t imagine. For me, the Eastland held no fascination
beyond that of finding Mae. I never wanted to set foot on a boat
again.
“I heard from another cabbie there might be as many as half
a million spectators. Coppers sure will have their hands full this
weekend.” Salvatore pulled back on the reins. Lucille slowed.
“We’re about two blocks from Iroquois Memorial. With all this
traffic, it’ll be rough going.”
“Then let us out here, Sal. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
Karel paused and looked at me. “That is, if Dee doesn’t mind
a little rain. Sidewalks are too crowded to open an umbrella. If
only you still had your hat.”
My beige hat, the one that had complemented my cocoa eyes.
That was what Mae had said only this morning. Now the hat was
in the Chicago River along with …
“I don’t care about the weather! Let’s go find Mae.”
“You heard the lady, Sal. Why don’t you meet us at the rear
entrance of the hospital? We’ll check for my sister and then
come look for you. If she’s there, I’ll send you home. If she’s not
there, it’s on to the next hospital.”
It took a full five minutes for our cab to reach the curb.
“Good luck, miss.” Salvatore took my hand and helped me
down. “Hope you find Miss Koznecki. Alive.”
He’d said that last word under his breath, but I’d heard. Our
driver had lost faith. But I still clung to my tiny remnant of hope.
I also hung tightly onto Karel’s arm as a couple brushed rudely
past us.
“Heard the majority of bodies were found rushing the grand
staircase,” said the woman, her voice breathy with excitement.
“They’re still bringing ’em up. Maybe some dead will still be on
the dock.”
“Rumor has it that the tugboat pulled the Eastland over,”
said the man. “But I also heard that a rush of passengers toward
the riverside railings tipped the ship.”
Three teenage boys nearly bowled us over. “Some of the
women lost their dresses in all the struggling,” one of them
sniggered.
“Naked women?”
“Let’s get a move on!” The three sped off.
“Sorry you had to hear that, Dee.” Karel walked faster, pulling
me along beside him until two elderly gentlemen got in our way.
“According to reports in the evening edition,” one said, holding up his Chicago Daily Tribune , “bell divers found all manner
of carnage in the hull. Bodies mutilated beyond recognition by
falling debris.”
“They’re saying that two women were crushed to death,” the
other added, “when the bar’s refrigerator broke loose.”
I could almost hear that first explosive crash. The sound of
glass shattering.
I tugged at Karel’s arm,