“Please, Isaac, please. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
The sailor, a double-chinned, red-faced man with beady eyes, challenged Isaac. Zofia could see that he wanted to fight. She knew that Isaac was strong and that he could take the gun away from the guard. But there were so many guards and so many British sailors, it would only be a matter of time before one of them killed him.
Isaac was so angry that he stood staring intently at the guard.
“Isaac,” Zofia pulled his shirtsleeve. “Isaac, please!” her voice was louder, cracking with fear. It broke the spell of Isaac’s anger. He turned to look at Zofia.
“Please, don’t get yourself killed. I love you. I need you . . .”
Katja began to cry softly.
Isaac nodded. Then he turned to the guard one last time. His eyes told the man that he was only backing down for his wife’s sake. How many times would he have to swallow his pride, his sense of manhood? As they approached the front of the line to board the ship, the children—Katja, Mendel, and Rachel—walked ahead.
“We are cutting the line off here. You, start going to the next ship,” ordered a young sailor with a thick cockney accent.
“No, please,” Shana said. “I must go with my sister.” Her English was broken and sprinkled with Polish, but because of the way she held her sister, the soldier seemed to understand what she was trying to say.
“My husband and I must go with our daughter,” Zofia said.
The sailor was no more than nineteen. He had pumpkin-colored hair, a full face of brown freckles, and a warm smile. He looked at Shana.
“Please . . .” Shana said, her eyes filling with tears.
The boy in the Navy uniform nodded.
“The three of you go on together. We’ll cut it off after you.”
Shana breathed a sigh of relief. She quickly glanced at Zofia, who shared her feelings. Then Isaac, Shana, and Zofia followed the children on to the ship Empire Rival. The deck was nothing more than an iron pen, with a wooden latrine containing five holes. The Empire Rival would hold over a thousand prisoners.
Zofia, Isaac, Shana, and the children found a corner and huddled together. Zofia held Katja in her arms and secretly wondered if she had made a mistake taking the child out of her secure life in London. Then she glanced over at Isaac, who looked angry and frustrated at the situation. A deep wrinkle had burrowed between his eyes as he looked out over the water.
If she had not followed her dreams, had not taken this risk and packed up her life to board Exodus, she would never have found Isaac again. She would have lived the rest of her days thinking that he had died in the forests or concentration camps in Poland. Zofia reached over and tenderly touched Isaac’s shoulder. The furrow of anger left his brow as he turned to look at her, his eyes glossed over with love. No matter what happened, it was all worthwhile, just to be here sitting beside each other, knowing that whatever they would face in the future, the three of them would be together.
No one knew where the ship was headed. From the deck, Zofia could see the two other ships, Runnymede Park and Ocean Vigour, that carried the other refugees from Exodus. They were docked in a row under the relentless heat of the summer sun. Once, Rachel tried to ask one of the sailors where they were going, but he threatened her and so Shana immediately grabbed her bold little sister and pulled her away.
“Don’t bother them.” Shana warned Rachel. “You must remember that you are only a little girl. You could get hurt.”
“I am only a little girl right now, but someday, I am going to kill all of them: the British who are keeping us prisoners and the Nazis who killed our family.”
“Don’t talk about such things. Sit down and be quiet before the wrong person hears you.” Shana pulled Rachel over to sit down, but Rachel shrugged her off.
“I will kill them someday . . . I will!” Her eyes were filled with tears and her little body shook with anger, but she sat down between Mendel and Katja.
Katja didn’t say a word; she just rubbed Rachel’s back.
“They had better let us out of here,” Rachel shouted, getting up and walking to the bars of the cage.
“Hush, before you get hurt.” Shana shook her sister’s arm.
“How can they do this to us? I just will not stand for it. I won’t,” Rachel fumed.
“You will sit down and be quiet for now.” Shana said.
“Come and sit by me.” Katja patted the ground beside her and Rachel sat down.
“The three of us should form some kind of an army and fight these sailors,” Rachel said to Katja and Mendel.
“Rachel, Abe is dead. These men shot him. They could shoot us, too. We had better do what they tell us to do.”
“All right, I guess I have no choice, but only for now. One day I am going to do something. When I am older and I can get a gun, I won’t let them get away with this,” Rachel said, tears of anger glistening in her eyes.
“Shhh, I know how you feel.” Katja said and she put her arm around her friends’ shoulder.
Mendel looked at Katja. She shook her head. He reached behind Rachel and squeezed Katja’s hand.
“I am so angry,” Rachel said. “We had to go through the ‘Bricha’ to get here. We had to do so much and now this.”
“What is the ‘Bricha’?” Katja asked, still rubbing Rachel’s shoulder.
“It’s the underground for illegal immigration to Palestine.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that they helped us get here. They gave us money, too, and now we can’t even get in to Palestine. I don’t know what these dirty pigs are going to do with us, but I can tell you that it won’t be good,” Rachel seethed, pointing to one of the sailors.
“Rachel, try to calm down. It doesn’t help when you make the sailors angry,” Mendel soothed.
“I just hope they don’t keep us in this prison until we die, or they kill us” Rachel said.
“Could they do that?” Katja shivered.
“I don’t know. All I know is they shot people on the ship, and some of those people were children, so they could do anything. I am afraid they might be as bad as the Nazis.”
Katja looked at her friend. “I’m scared, Rachel. I am so scared.”
“I know. Me too, but we have to be brave. We have to make a plan for the future. Someday we have to pay them all back for this,” Rachel said.
“It’s going to be all right,” Mendel said. “Nobody is going to kill us.” He rubbed Katja’s forearm. “Don’t be afraid.”
“They might try,” Rachel said.
“We will be all right,” Mendel repeated.
Isaac and Zofia sat in silence, watching the children and listening. A single tear fell down Zofia’s cheek. She quickly wiped it with her fist. Isaac leaned over and kissed her.
“At least we are together,” he whispered. “And, I love you . . .”
They had each received a dirty, threadbare blanket on which they were to sit, sleep, and eat. Katja held her blanket in her arms and sucked her thumb.
“What would happen if we tried to escape? We could climb over the top of this cage, then steal guns and start shooting,” Rachel suggested.
“That’s barbed wire,” Mendel said, pointing to the wire at the top of the cage.
“It looks sharp,” Rachel said, her hands balled up into fists.
“It is sharp. It will cut your hand off if you grab it and try to climb out of here,” Mendel warned.
“I’d like to get some kind of a cutter and cut it,” Rachel said.
“Where are we going to get a cutter, Rachel?”
Katja wasn’t listening. She was tired, hungry, and thirsty. She leaned against Mendel and he put his arm around her shoulder. Then Katja balled up her blanket and laid her head on Mendel’s lap.
Zofia looked across the Mediterranean Sea. She had been so hopeful, so close to her dream. Now, it was hard to say what would happen to her family.
“Look, over there,” Isaac said, po
inting to a group that had been imprisoned in a cage on shore. “Is that Shlomie?”
Zofia stood up to get a better look. The sun was blindingly bright, and it was hard to see clearly, especially long distance. “I think so, but I can’t be sure.”
“Shlomie . . . Shlomie . . .” Isaac began to call out. “Shlomie Katz, is that you?”
“Isaac? Isaac Zuckerman? My God! It is you!” Shlomie ran to the fence surrounding him. Isaac ran as close as he could within the enclosure on the ship to where Shlomie was imprisoned on land.
“Zofia is here, too,” Isaac said.
Zofia walked up to the fence. For just an instant, she saw a grimace of pain cross over Shlomie’s face. Then it was gone.
“Zofia, Isaac, my dear friends. It is so good to see you both. Safe. Alive.”
“You were not aboard Exodus, were you?”
“No, I was aboard another ship. We were captured a week ago,” Shlomie said.
“Do you know where they are going to send us?” Zofia asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what is going to happen. All I know is that somehow, some way, I am going to get to Palestine,” Shlomie shouted.
“I don’t know where this ship is headed, but until we meet again, God bless you and keep you safe,” Isaac said.
“And God be with you, and Zofia, too.”
“Who is that, Mama?” Katja asked.
“An old friend,” Zofia answered, wringing the skirt of her dress in her hands.
Chapter 21
For three days, the refugees sat imprisoned on the stationary vessel, broiling in the hot sun. Their bodies were covered in sweat and filth, their minds clouded with worry. They didn’t know what was to become of them. Many of them had borrowed money from various Jewish organizations to pay their fare on Exodus, such as the International Refugee Organization, the American Joint Distribution Committee, or the Bricha. Now those resources were exhausted, and without them it would be impossible to find another way to get back to Palestine. The refugees, many of whom had survived the horrors of the Nazi concentration camps, were now imprisoned again, this time under British rule.
Then, on the morning of the third day, the engine of the boat rocked to life and the ship set sail. Several hours after the voyage had begun, an announcement came over the loudspeaker. Gasps could be heard from within the enclosure. The fears of the refugees had been realized; the Captain announced that they were on their way back to Europe, back to where they started.
One morning Zofia felt a change in the motion of the boat. She awakened to find that the ship had docked just outside of the Port-de-Bouc in Toulon, France. From her place on the deck, she could see that the other two ships had docked at the French port as well. So, they were going to France? Zofia shook her head as she looked across the water. The sun had just begun to peek through the clouds, and the cool morning air felt good on her face.
“Zofia,” Shana had come up behind her.
Zofia turned. “Can you see that sign? We are in France.”
Shana nodded. “Do you think we will ever get to Palestine?”
Zofia shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope so. I cannot believe that we were so close, and now we are back in Europe.”
“Before we got on Exodus, I was trying to get a visa for Rachel and me to go into the United States. It was nearly impossible.”
“We are Jews, and the sad truth is that nobody wants us,” Zofia said, shrugging her shoulders.
“What is it that makes everyone think we are so different?”
“Who knows? All I know is that it has made my life very tough.”
“Mine too. And, little Rachel, my gosh, she is like an angry old woman, and she is just a child. It frightens me to see how filled with hatred she has become. I am frightened that her outspokenness will get her hurt or, God forbid, even killed. I shiver to think what could happen . . .”
Zofia nodded. “It is true that Rachel is direct, and unafraid.” Then Zofia put her arm around Shana’s shoulder. “But in a way, I really admire her. She is so young, but she is already so strong.”
“Or so foolish?” Shana said, sighing. “As only the young can be.”
Chapter 22
A restless energy shot like a bolt of lightning through the enclosure as the prisoners awoke to find they were docked. Several people tried to ask the guards questions:
“Are we getting off the ship, here at the dock in France?”
“What is the plan? What are you going to do with us?”
Unfortunately, they were ignored.
Zofia’s lower back and legs ached from sitting on the ground in the same position for so many hours. The cage was over-crowded and the smell of unwashed bodies and urine had gotten so strong that even the sea air could not dilute them. If only I could jump off the side of this boat and feel the water on my skin, in my hair, she thought. People were all around her; she felt as if she were suffocating. Zofia had to get up and stretch.
Careful not to step on anyone, she stood. Her limbs tingled from lack of movement. She reached down and tried to massage them. Then she looked across the water at the port. What are we going to do now? She sighed; it would be so easy to just give up, to just stay in Europe. But if all the Jews stopped fighting there would never be a homeland. Her eyes burned and her head ached.
It was early afternoon before the Captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“In an hour, you will begin to disembark.”
“We will not go.” A male voice rose loud above the crowd. “We will not go on land here in France. Take us back to Palestine.”
The crowd cheered, and others chimed in with similar sentiments.
Then a chant began, “Justice for the Jewish people.”
Zofia remembered that slogan from a sign that had been posted in the DP camp. Louder and louder, the crowd’s angry voices chanted the words. “Justice, Justice, Justice.”
Then the loudspeaker was overtaken by one of the leaders of the Jewish refugees. “We will stage a hunger strike, now, while the world is watching, the press is watching. We will not eat or drink until this ship is on her way to Palestine. The British promised that we would have that country as our own, and we will have it, one way or another. NOW . . . Chant with me. ‘Justice for the Jewish People.’”
And the chanting continued.
A swastika was emblazoned onto the British flag, and it was raised as someone cried out, “The British are as bad as the Nazis.”
Katja cuddled under Zofia’s arm. Isaac stood, his voice loud and angry as he chanted with the others, his fist raised high in the air.
If the French had agreed to force the passengers off the ship and on to French soil, they would have been taken from the ship in France. However, the French did not want the Jews either.
A sign was posted where all of the prisoners could see it. It read: “If you do not agree to disembark by tomorrow evening, August 22, you will be taken to Hamburg, Germany. Signed: ‘On Behalf of the British Government.’”
One of the passengers yelled, “They want to take us back to Hitler, back to Germany. We cannot go; we must continue our hunger strike.”
So for twenty-four hours the already-dehydrated and emaciated Jews, both children, and adults, fasted. The world watched in horror as the photographs of the tortured refugees appeared in the news. The media attention was just what the Jews were hoping for, and on the second day, when the ship set sail, they prayed that they were on their way back to the Promised Land. However, they feared that they were headed straight to Hamburg.
Zofia had never experienced a headache like the one she had now. The blood pounded behind her eyes. The heat, the fasting, and the worry was more than she could bear. She lay on the deck holding Katja, who had fallen asleep in her arms. Isaac watched her with genuine worry. Now that the hunger strike was over, he gave her his share of the food and water. She didn’t want to take it. She knew he needed it just as much as she did, but he insisted. Zofia sat up sipping the wa
ter. She felt as if she might vomit. Shana and Rachel sat on the other side of her, and for once, Rachel was quiet. Even she was apprehensive that Katja might lose her mother.
“Eat a little bit more,” Isaac gently coaxed Zofia, touching her cheek, but she couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, Isaac. I’m so tired. I just need to rest.”
“Come then, rest.” Isaac took off his shirt and made a pillow for her, which he laid on his lap. Gently, he helped her lay down. Katja was still huddled into her arms. “Sleep my darling, my love,” he whispered.
Zofia could hear the worry in his voice and feel the gentle rhythm of his hand gently massaging her shoulder as she drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke during the night, everyone had fallen asleep except Isaac. He still held her gently as she lay upon his lap. When she opened her eyes she smiled at him, and she saw that a furrow of concern had deepened between his brows.
“How do you feel?” He whispered.
“A little better,” she said. It was true. She did feel a little better, but still so tired and weak.
“I’ve been worried.”
“I know. I’m sorry to have upset you,” Zofia said.
Gently, Isaac took Katja off of Zofia and laid her down beside him. “Here stretch a little. Your legs must be stiff.”
“Yes, they are stiff. My legs are cramping,” she said.
“I know. It’s from the lack of water.”
She nodded.
“Can you stand up and stretch them?”
“I’ll try.”
He stood first, and then helped her to her feet. Zofia’s legs ached and felt like jelly. She could hardly stand. Isaac held her in his arms.
“Stretch, my love; come on, let me help you,” Isaac said. He held her as he tenderly massaged and stretched each of her legs and arms. “Let’s try to walk a few steps,” he said, holding her tightly around the waist so she would not fall. Carefully he guided her through the maze of sleeping bodies on the deck of the ship.
“My legs feel a little better.”
The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3) Page 10