Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 THE NEXT DAY TUESDAY, MAY 4 1:00 P.M. ABOARD THE HINDENBURG Hugo helped himself to another warm roll, which was as fluffy as the clouds out the window. He'd already eaten four, but nobody seemed to mind.

That morning he'd stuffed himself at breakfast — creamy eggs and sizzling sausages. This lunch was even more delicious. The tender steak practically melted on his tongue. The asparagus was covered with so much melted cheese it actually tasted good. The family was sharing a big table with Marty and her dad, Mr. Singer, and a few other passengers. Hugo sat next to Marty. Had they met only yesterday? He felt like they'd been friends for years. Last night they'd stayed up past midnight, looking out the windows. The zeppelin's powerful searchlight beamed down. It lit up sleeping villages and turned the Rhine River into a glittering silver ribbon. Marty told Hugo about her life with her father. "My mother died four years ago," she said. "So Father and I are a team." Hugo had been wondering why she and her dad were traveling alone, and now he had his sad

answer. She asked him a hundred questions about Kenya, and as he answered he could almost see Marty traveling there in her mind. He described their little house with the grass roof, and explained that Mom and Dad took turns giving him his school lessons. "Are giraffes really the most beautiful animals?" Marty asked. "Yes, and their eyes are huge, and almost like human eyes," Hugo told her. There was only one ugly part of a giraffe. "Their tongues are pitch black, and about a foot and a half long," he added. "Yuck!" Marty said as they both burst out laughing. Hugo told Marty about the cobras and the hippos and the one-eared baboon. And then, just before they said good night, he told her the story of Gertie's illness. Marty listened with tears in her eyes.

But today, here in the bright dining room of the Hindenburg, those sad stories seemed miles away. Gertie had woken up without a fever this morning and was gobbling up her food. Mom and Dad looked almost carefree as they chatted with their new friends. "From now on, I will only travel on zeppelins," announced Miss Crowther. She was an older American woman with a big voice and even bigger diamond earrings. Gertie looked up at Hugo, her face shiny with butter from the noodles. "Oogo," she whispered. "That lady looks like an ostrich." "You're right, Gertie," he whispered back, studying Miss Crowther's unusually long neck and thin, beaklike nose. "But keep your voice down." He was pretty sure the elegant Miss Crowther wouldn't like being compared to an enormous screeching bird.

"I'm usually sick as a dog on a ship," boomed Mr. Merrick, a British man with red hair and a pointy chin. "But I haven't been the least bit queasy." Same with Hugo. On the ship to Africa last year, Hugo had been so slammed by seasickness he'd puked his guts out. But the Hindenburg's ride was so smooth. It was impossible to imagine that they were really zooming through the sky at almost eighty-five miles per hour. Hugo's stomach felt perfect. Gertie studied Mr. Merrick. "He looks like a fox," she whispered. Marty grinned — she wanted in on the game. They all now turned their attention to Mr. Lenz. He was a cheerful German man with a thick, curving mustache and big, pillowy belly. "I once flew on an airplane," he said. "But never again. The noise was terrible. We had to land every two hours to get more fuel. And it took

us twenty-two hours to fly from New York to Florida!" Hugo had always wanted to fly on an airplane, but he'd heard they were dangerous. Dad said it would be years before an airplane could fly passengers across the oceans. For now, only the Graf Zeppelin and the Hindenburg could do that. "Mr. Lenz looks like a nice walrus," Marty whispered.