I made my way back inside where I was grabbed by Sendel, who announced that the assault on the bridge would take place the next day. ‘Are you with us or against us?’ he asked. ‘Are you a man or a boy?’ Whilst I knew that, for him, each question allowed for only one answer, I also knew that, for my father, it was quite the opposite. For all my brutal rebuttal of his arguments the previous night, I had taken them to heart and now repeated them to Sendel, who responded with characteristic scorn, which stung. It struck me as just recompense for the scorn that I had vented on my father and, as I walked down to the cabin, I wondered whether it might not be more grown-up to accept an unjust charge of cowardice than to seek to disprove it by an act of reckless bravado.
No sooner had I finished undressing than I was thrown into further turmoil when my father entered the cabin, his face bloody and bruised. He slumped heavily on the bed. My first thought – that he must have heard Sendel mocking me and taken up the cudgels on my behalf – vanished when I leant over him and smelt the brandy on his breath. I coldly asked what had happened and he told me that he had fallen down the stairs, an explanation confirmed by the fumes wafting my way. I could scarcely contain my revulsion.
‘You’re drunk!’
‘What?’
‘The ship’s in mortal danger. We could all be behind bars in a week. Luise could be put in a … and you get drunk. Does nothing ever change?’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘Think? It doesn’t take a genius!’
‘I hoped we’d grown a little closer over the past few days, you and I.’
‘You mean you hoped you’d pulled the wool over my eyes! I’m not as stupid as you seem to imagine.’
‘I’m so proud of you, Karl. You’ve no idea.’
‘Thank you! It’s a pity I can’t say the same.’
‘No, I suppose not. I’m sorry, I’ve no right to expect anything different. I’m sorry, truly I am. I know I shouldn’t ask, but please don’t say a word to your mother. She’d only worry.’
‘You flatter yourself! She wouldn’t worry; she’d tell you how much she despises you … how much we all do. She’d order you to disappear and never bother any of us again. But never fear, I shan’t give you away – though for her sake, not yours.’
‘That’s all right then,’ he said and lay back on the pillow. I moved away, any thought of helping him lost in a welter of disgust and disappointment. ‘Like this, you’re safe,’ he added, as though witnessing his shame were all that prevented my ending up the same way.
My fitful sleep at least enabled me to escape the cabin early, leaving my father stretched out on the bed where he had collapsed the night before. The sight of his stupor steeled my resolve and I made straight for Sendel’s cabin. I entered to find it packed with conspirators, including Joel. My resentment at his failure to confide in me was offset by respect for his secrecy. Sendel appeared inordinately pleased to see me, given how little I could add to the strength already mustered. I was greeted less warmly by some of the others, who seemed to sense the hesitancy behind my late arrival. I stood next to Joel while Sendel, whose assumption of command was an accepted – if not universally welcomed – fact, announced that we would storm the bridge at 9 a.m. precisely and that no one would now be allowed to leave the room, an injunction that immediately drove me to practise the bladder-calming techniques I had perfected while watching Tristan and Isolde.
None of my fellows, not even Joel, had much to say to me and I spent an increasingly oppressive hour studying their faces, several of which I had never seen out on deck, where, to judge by their pallor, they rarely ventured. We were eleven in all: two thuggish types, whose expressions suggested that they had paid for their passage the same way as Sendel; a clean-cut trio, who would have been better suited to a university fencing club; a middle-aged man, whom I had observed by the pool playing with his children; two Hasidim, who seemed keen to emulate the Maccabees; Sendel, Joel and myself.
When Sendel announced that we would be going into action within ten minutes, one of the Hasidim proposed saying a prayer and, to my surprise, Sendel raised no objection. The man chanted a psalm, and I was now sufficiently well-versed in Hebrew to recognise the thanks offered to God for presenting us with the necks of our enemies (a gift which I trusted would remain symbolic). That done, we were sent from the cabin in twos and threes to rendezvous in the gymnasium, which was the nearest public room to the bridge. I had hoped to be paired with Joel, thereby maintaining a semblance of normality, but he went off with the middle-aged man while I was partnered with Sendel. My fears of running into someone I knew – not least, Johanna – were dispelled by the sounds emerging from the dining room. Never had the attraction of breakfast been stronger. Even the Professor’s wife’s twittering was preferable to what, with every step, seemed a more foolhardy mission. I trusted that it was simply my indecision that had left me feeling so ill-prepared and that the others were better briefed as to the plan of campaign. All I knew was that we were to take over the ship and either sail it to a friendly port or run it aground, but I had no idea of how we would put down any opposition or exercise day-to-day command.
We gathered in the gymnasium which, to my relief, was otherwise unoccupied. Then, on the dot of nine, Sendel gave the order and we burst into the bridge castle. Faced with the confusion of doors, even the hotheads faltered, until Sendel motioned towards the extreme right. I felt sick and longed to sneak out, but my only escape was a fantasy in which I as Frank Osbaldistone and Sendel as Rob Roy took up arms against the tyrannous English king. Reality returned as I found myself in the chart room, where the First Officer was poring over maps. His gasp of surprise was stifled by one of the students, while another tied his arms behind his back. Sendel instructed them to bundle him through another door on to the bridge where, to my horror, Helmut was standing at the helm. Though struck dumb by the sight of his trussed-up colleague, he had lost none of his other faculties and made a dash for the emergency bell, to be intercepted by Joel. Meanwhile, one of the two thugs (I prayed that it was simply my inexperience that made them seem so sinister) grabbed him by the neck. Sendel directed me to seize his left arm, but any hopes that the hold might be token were dashed by Helmut’s desperate writhing together with my fellow guard’s instruction to tighten my grip.
‘Hands off, you bastards!’ Helmut shouted.
‘Keep still, Nazi!’ the thug replied, an unconscionable slur that caused Helmut to freeze and me to squirm.
‘Are you mad?’
‘Keep still, I said, or you’ll be sorry.’
‘You’ll pay for this, I’m telling you!’
‘No, I’m telling you!’ A sharp blow muffled Helmut’s yells, which died completely when he turned to his left and came face to face with me. After advising both prisoners that further resistance was futile, Sendel briefly outlined our demands and, handing the First Officer a telephone, ordered him to summon the Captain.
My assumption that his words contained a coded warning was belied by the Captain’s jaunty entrance. His mood instantly changed at the sight of his two captive officers. He turned to protest when, at a signal from Sendel, the remaining students leapt out from behind the door and pinned back his arms. In spite of the danger, I felt a momentary relief that, even when seized by men half his age and twice his size, his authority remained undiminished. He made no attempt to break free and, indeed, rebuked the First Officer for starting to struggle. He simply asked what we hoped to achieve by this charade (a word that brought home the hopelessness of our position). Sendel repeated our demands, which the Captain dismissed as casually as if they were complaints about the menu. ‘You haven’t the least chance of success,’ he said. ‘Firstly, you’ve neglected to secure the engine room. Secondly, you’ll receive no support from your fellow passengers and will meet active resistance from the crew. All you’re doing is laying yourselves open to charges of piracy.’
‘That’s our affair,’ Sendel said.
‘The ship
can’t change course without my express command,’ the Captain said. ‘And that I’ll never give.’
‘Then we’ll hold you hostage until the crew obey us.’
‘You can expect a long wait.’
‘In which case, we’ll kill you!’
‘No!’ I shouted, my heartbeat threatening to rival that of the bee hummingbird. ‘If we did that, we’d be no better than Nazis.’
‘What would you know of the Nazis?’ Sendel countered. ‘Ah, diddums! Did they stop you taking the waters at Wiesbaden?’
‘They threw me out of school. They stole our store. They killed my grandfather.’ I found myself making the connection that the intervening months had threatened to obscure.
‘In which case you should have learnt. What happened before we left will be ten times worse if we go back. And I won’t go back. Not ever.’
‘Nor me,’ echoed my fellow guard, tightening his grip on Helmut’s arm.
‘I give you my word,’ the Captain said, ‘that I’ll do everything that lies within my power to stop you being returned to Germany.’
‘Your word as a Nazi stooge?’ Sendel sneered.
‘My word as a naval officer. Like it or not. But one thing is sure: this madness won’t assist your cause. On the contrary, it can only damage you.’
‘So where will you go?’ Sendel asked. ‘Who’ll take in the lepers?’
‘I have high hopes that you’ll find a haven in England.’
The mention of that country – now my country – had an immediate effect. I sensed my opposite number loosen his hold on Helmut, as though even he had faith in a nation that prided itself on playing by fairer rules than any other. Sendel made a final attempt to stoke up the rebellion, but it had already fizzled out. As one, we released our prisoners. The Captain and First Officer smoothed their uniforms as if our attack had barely creased their dignity, but Helmut swung round in fury, attempting to reassert himself with his fists. He was only kept from using them by the Captain who, placing his hand firmly on his shoulder, guided him to the wheel. Gripping it to stop himself shaking, he stared out to sea. I was transfixed by the ridges on his sweat-stained jacket like the lines on a freshly mown lawn.
The Captain turned to us, promising that, provided we gave him a pledge of good behaviour, he would forget the whole incident. From the sheepish murmur of assent, it was clear that I was not the only one to find myself back in the headmaster’s study. He ordered us off the bridge and we filed out, with Sendel pushing angrily to the front. I was all set to escape when, in the outcome I most dreaded, the Captain called my name. I stood at the door, unable to look him in the eye. Before he could say anything, however, Helmut, who remained deeply distressed, interjected that we had been let off far too lightly: we should have been arrested and thrown in the hold. ‘You, of all people,’ he said to me. ‘You, who she’s devoted her life to. You who she chose over …’ His speech petered out, making the Captain’s call for silence a mere formality. I, meanwhile, would rather have been the object of Helmut’s worst abuse than the cause of the Captain’s disappointment. I felt that I had betrayed the man whom I admired above all others: the man whom, had it lain within my power, I would have chosen as my own father. I apologised for what had happened.
‘What was that?’ the Captain said. ‘I thought we’d agreed that nothing did happen.’
‘And nothing will happen?’ I asked, years of broken promises having shaken my faith. ‘Not even to the ringleader?’
‘I trust that I’m an honourable man,’ he replied. ‘How can I punish a man for doing nothing?’
‘Or even think badly of him?’
‘Of him or of you?’
I was so desperate for him to think well of me that I took the opportunity to pour out all my woes, explaining how I had decided to join the attack at the last minute in despair at my father’s drunkenness. He had attempted to drown his sorrows, whereas I was determined to transform them and the only means available were my fists.
‘Rubbish!’ Helmut said, grateful for another reason to despise me. ‘Your father wasn’t drunk. He’d been in a fight with a steward.’
‘Which steward?’ the Captain asked sharply.
‘Schiendick,’ Helmut replied. ‘Who else? Or so I gathered from Herr Hirsch, who wasn’t too coherent – although not from drink. He didn’t touch a drop until I gave him some brandy.’
‘You?’ I asked.
‘Yes, me. Why? Is there a problem? I found him flat out by a lifeboat. I wanted to call the doctor but he wouldn’t let me.’
‘Did he say what had happened?’ the Captain asked.
‘Something about Schiendick insulting his daughter.’
‘You mean assaulting her?’
‘I meant what I said.’ Helmut forgot himself in his agitation. ‘The girl’s –’ he looked at me – ‘a little simple.’
‘That man again,’ the Captain said. ‘This time he’s gone too far.’
‘No sir,’ the First Officer warned. ‘Not according to his friends in Berlin.’
‘One more such incident,’ the Captain said, ‘just one, and I’ll send him packing. Friends or no friends!’
While the Captain fulminated against Schiendick, I thought of my father and how my participation in the attack had been based on a false premise. I felt doubly ashamed when, after offering further apologies to the Captain and First Officer, who nodded brusquely, and Helmut, who turned his back, I walked off the bridge and onto the boat deck. Even without looking up, I could sense that the sky was as sombre as my mood. But a whisper in the air turned my attention heavenwards and I was rewarded with a view of the largest flock of swifts that I had ever seen: thousands upon thousands, as though the sky were scrawled with ‘w’s, flying north from their winter migration. And yet a sight that would normally have sent my heart soaring simply stung me with its irony, as I contemplated the very different circumstances of my own journey home.
Returning inside, I found to my surprise that I was trembling. I longed for a bath, but we had been asked to conserve water and I was reluctant to break the least regulation. So, finding the cabin mercifully free of my father, I lay down on my bed and began to review my life. I was both shaken and shamed by the morning’s events. I had allowed myself to become another person or, rather, to assume a fake identity, one which suited me no better than a Hitler Youth uniform. I closed my eyes and attempted to dull my brain but was assailed by a succession of faces: my father’s; my grandfather’s; my uncle’s; the Captain’s; Helmut’s; all offering clues as to the man that I was, the man that I wanted to be. Another face flashed in front of me, a scarred, sneering face, but I dismissed it and swore that I would never again pay it any heed. I felt sure that the attack on the bridge had been a turning-point and, for all the Captain’s insistence that it had never happened, it was one that I was determined to mark. I had apologised to the officers, but the man I had most offended was my father. I yearned to make amends and, suddenly, the way became clear.
Eager for support, I sought out Johanna, whom I found on the promenade deck, quite recovered from the previous night’s ill humour and talking to Viktor. Dispatching him to the games room in quest of Joel (and trusting that a last lie would not compromise my commitment), I flung myself down on his chair and told her what I had decided. I explained how moved I had been by her resolve to remain on the ship. I intended to make a similar gesture by becoming bar mitzvah. She was confused, presuming that I had lost my chance forever by renouncing the ceremony at thirteen. ‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘In fact, in one sense it’ll be superfluous. Bar mitzvah means Son of the Commandment, and every Jewish boy – even me – becomes it by virtue of turning thirteen or, to be pedantic, thirteen and a day. But two years ago, I felt very different, very disillusioned. There was no way I could celebrate growing up to be a Jewish man. Now things have changed. It’s not just that I feel proud to stand alongside my forefathers (that bit’s easy); I feel proud to stand alongside my father. What’s more, I want
to acknowledge it publicly. Here, on the St Louis.’
‘On the ship?’
‘Why not? Who knows where we may end up: in Africa, where there are no synagogues, or back in Germany, only to find they’ve all been burnt?’
‘You said there was no chance we’d return there!’
‘And there’s not – but just in case. Besides, it’s not only a question of doing what’s practical but what’s right. It’s on this ship that I’ve truly come of age. So I shall go and see the Rabbi and ask if he can perform the ceremony on the Sabbath.’
‘You mean Saturday?’
‘That’s right.’
‘But it’s two days away!’
She was astonished that it could be arranged so fast. I assured her that there was no fixed timescale: the only requirement was that I be able to read my portion. Besides, I was a quick study with an excellent memory (something, I might add for the benefit of Edward, whom I see as the most sceptical of my readers, that has stood me in good stead in preparing this account). Although the Haftorah, the reading from the Prophets, was the longer, it was the Maftir, the reading from the Torah, that would pose me the greater problems, since it was inscribed on a scroll without vowels. I knew instinctively that her next question would be ‘why’, and I had to admit to having no answer, unless it were to preserve the mystery should it fall into enemy hands.
A Sea Change Page 25