by Shmuel David
“No, Emil. Please. I know you’re worried about me, but this nausea is simply killing me. I can’t put anything in my mouth, not even water. The water might be bad here.”
“Perhaps I should call Dr. Bezalel again…”
“But he’s on board the Kraljica Marija,” answered Pauli.
“I’ve never heard of anything like it! One doctor for three boats.”
“Maybe we really shouldn’t have taken this foolish trip…” said Mother, desperation apparent in her voice.
“Don’t forget this was our only opportunity. Sime said the Danube is the only way to move between the various countries without being arrested. It’s a neutral water route.”
“Yes, but there might have been other, more normal means of transport. You can’t just cram hundreds of people into one riverboat.”
“Perhaps lying down is not good for you,” said Father. “Try sitting.”
He tried to help Mother into a sitting position, and her face immediately turned from white to green. She gasped, and her entire breakfast burst out of her mouth, staining Father’s coat and collecting in a puddle on the blankets spread out on the floor.
Mother placed a hand on her chest and turned her face aside so as not to dirty the place. She began to take deep breaths, and then said, “Children, I’m so sorry you have to see me in such a state. This is terrible.”
“It isn’t terrible, Loui. These things happen,” Father stroked her back gently. “There’s no need to feel uncomfortable. Everything will be all right. A few more days and this nightmare will be over,” he tried to comfort her.
A few minutes later, she sighed deeply. “Thank God. I finally feel a little better. I don’t understand. This isn’t my first time on such a boat, and I’ve never been seasick before.”
“But Loui, this isn’t the same. Back then, we sailed for three hours at the most. Now we’ve been sailing for two days. And the conditions… It’s just not the same.”
“Mother’s right. We shouldn’t have come on this trip in the first place,” said Pauli. “We should have gotten off as soon as we saw the conditions on the boat. There will be other boats. This isn’t the only one.”
“Instead of talking so much, why don’t you think of a way to clean this up?”
“I know where there are buckets and mops,” I volunteered, immediately thinking of Inge. Now I had a real excuse to go looking for her. “Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”
I hurried to the stairs that led to the belly of the ship and ran toward the cabins. Two thirteen-year-old girls were sitting at the entrance to a cabin playing knucklebones. Two other girls were running shouting and screaming along the corridor. Someone opened a door and yelled at them to stop making such a racket and disturbing the peace. I asked them where their parents were, but they just shrugged. I descended another level, and everything became very quiet. I was wondering why it was so quiet when I suddenly heard the sound of a muffled voice.
Someone, probably the leader or instructor of a group of youngsters, was lecturing them while they sat in a semi-circle next to him. My eyes examined the group of youngsters, hoping to find Inge among them, but I couldn’t see her. I looked and looked, but couldn’t recognize her as they were all wearing the same uniform. The instructor was speaking about the pilgrimage to Jerusalem during biblical times. I listened a little, but didn’t understand much. Finally, I recognized Inge, wearing a red wool hat that covered her ears. She flashed a big smile at me and looked even prettier than she had yesterday. I suddenly thought that after only one night in this hell, I had already forgotten the warm bed I used to sleep in, and that it was only yesterday I was propelled into these crowded and foul-smelling conditions. I signaled to her, and she asked the instructor for permission to get up. She approached me.
“I waited for you on the bridge…”
“I was tired and fell asleep on my blankets. By the time I got up, it was already too late.”
“I need your help. Mother’s not feeling well again. She threw up, and I need a bucket and a mop. I also need two clean blankets.”
“Hold on. I’ll tell Emil. Be right back!”
She came back a minute later.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s start with the bucket. Then we’ll see what we can do about the blankets.”
She walked quickly, and it was all I could do to keep up. We went up and down stairs, entered narrow corridors, crossed rooms, and finally arrived.
“Here, let me hold it,” I told her.
When I returned, Father wasn’t there. Mother said he’d gone to visit the two crew members he’d met yesterday. He wanted to relax a bit, perhaps have a drink with them. Inge helped me clean up our sleeping area. We replaced one blanket. Mother warmly thanked her for her help. After everything was neat and tidy again, I accompanied Inge back to her group.
“Perhaps I’ll make it tonight. Wait for me on the bridge, but no more than ten minutes,” she said when we parted.
Father returned with a broad smile I hadn’t seen on his face for quite a while.
“Come, Loui, Hanne. Where’s Pauli?”
“Pauli met a boy who knows one of his classmates. He’s with him now,” said Mother.
“All right. I have a surprise for you,” said Father. “Let’s take all our belongings and move.”
“Emil, I trust you’ve arranged a much better place for us,” said Mother.
“You’re about to be pleasantly surprised.”
Father showed us the way and we followed. We got away from the chimney area, descended to the dining hall, crossed it, and climbed to an elevated balcony surrounded by ropes.
“We’re not there yet,” said Father.
We descended half a flight more, close to the bow, and entered a medium-sized hexagonal room with four of its six windows facing the water. The other two faced the rear side and were covered by blue curtains. There was a wooden table surrounded by four upholstered chairs.
“This is it. The officers’ dining room,” Father said with satisfaction. “They’re letting us sleep in here. They have an arrangement somewhere else inside the boat, next to the engine room.”
“How come they agreed to give you this place?” Mother asked suspiciously.
“They told me they felt very uncomfortable yesterday, when they first met us.”
“Why should they feel uncomfortable?” asked Mother.
“They immediately realized we’re a distinguished Serbian family. When we were talking, we discovered we have several mutual acquaintances, such as the soccer team’s trainer and Ivanovich, the person in charge of players’ uniforms. We drank and talked a little. They asked me what it was like to sleep next to the chimney, and I told them the truth. What’s there to hide? We’ve all suffered, haven’t we?”
Pauli suddenly showed up.
“Where did you all disappear to? I’ve been looking for you all over the boat for the past half hour. Good thing Mr. Felix, that man who spreads all the rumors, saw you heading in this direction.”
“He always knows everything, that Felix,” said Mother.
“And you know where he sleeps?” said Pauli. “He and that little fellow, David Tauber, sleep on the net in the engine room. He bragged this was the best possible arrangement on the boat.”
“I think there’s room for a few more people here,” said Father.
“That’s right, there’s room for more here,” said Mother. “I also feel uncomfortable about only the four of us being in such a place.”
“So let’s invite another family. Perhaps even two…”
“But who?” asked Mother, and Father began to move toward the exit.
“I thought about the Reiss family. They seemed very stressed, and the father once worked with me,” said Father, and descended to the great hall.
***
Winter. The surrounding
landscape was drab, dreary, and monotonous. Now and then, a few chunks of ice floated downstream, remnants of the previous night’s frosty temperatures. At least during the day, the water was still unfrozen and the boat could sail on.
When I raised my eyes, I could see steep cliffs at one end and bare cliffs at the other. Father explained that the cliffs to the right were in Yugoslavian territory, and the ones on the left belonged to Romania. Both sides were a brown-gray color. If there are any forests there, the trees must be bare by now. Father said we were sailing east and would soon see the Djerdap Gorge.9 The taller of the two cliffs was suddenly fully revealed, rising to the height of a tall building. On one side, it was steep, while the other gradually descended into the water, some of it hidden below. Father had once said that the true test of every marine navigator was to successfully maneuver a boat between the two straits. All the passengers gathered on the upper deck and fearfully looked at the two approaching massive rocks that seemed about to fall into the water with a deafening roar and crush the boat like a tiny toy.
The moments of tension finally passed, and the cliffs gradually disappeared behind us. But joy at the navigator’s successful navigation of the passage between the cliffs quickly transformed into a new dread, when the bow changed direction and the boat appeared to be turning back. Cries of anger and panic were heard among the passengers. Everyone expected an update that would explain this sudden change. Perhaps it was only temporary; perhaps chunks of ice were blocking the passage and hindering the boat’s progress. Suddenly, the engines switched off. We wanted someone in charge to tell us what was going on.
Felix and Rudy, that pair of rumormongers, took advantage of this dramatic moment to cause even more anxiety. They said the harsh winter conditions would not allow us to move forward. According to them, the captain had said we shouldn’t continue and must find a proper docking bay, just as many other boats were now doing. The dread and tension intensified when the engines growled and we began moving again, not southeast, but back toward the Djerdap Gorge. There were rumors that the ice wasn’t the real reason for the sudden stop but that that there might not be a boat waiting for us at Sulina, on the coast of the Black Sea.
Naftali Bata painstakingly explained to everyone that, according to the agreement between the Federation of Jewish Communities in charge of the trip and the state river shipping line, we were not allowed to leave the borders of Yugoslavia until a passenger ship was waiting for the group at Sulina.
“This is exactly what is written in the agreement,” I heard Naftali Bata telling Father in Serbo-Croatian, as he himself came from Belgrade.
“Why can’t we wait in Sulina until the ship arrives to take us to Israel?”
“You don’t understand,” said Naftali. “Sulina isn’t in Yugoslavian territory. You have no idea of the effort I’ve made to warn the river shipping line that if the river freezes over, we won’t be able to sail on.”
On our way, we passed a large town, much bigger than the one from which we’d embarked. I heard Father telling everyone the town was called Prahovo. He said the train from Belgrade to Bulgaria stops there and that it serves as an important transportation center between Yugoslavia and Bulgaria. Meanwhile, another rumor began to spread; people said Sime Spitzer himself was on his way to Prahovo to provide explanations for everything that was happening, and that we might need to wait at Prahovo Bay for another day or two, until we had official notice of a ship waiting for us at Sulina. The great turbine wheel began to slow down, and as it slowed, it dawned on us that our journey was coming to a halt. Finally, with a loud grating sound, the wheel stopped moving and complete silence fell on the boat. Then, sounds of protest and misgivings from people on deck intensified as we watched with expectant, uneasy eyes.
We all stood on the dock at Prahovo to hear what the man in charge of our trip had to tell us. It was an especially cold, sunny day at the end of December, and the remains of heavy snow that had fallen two days earlier had frozen in curious, transparent shapes on the branches of the trees. We all stood expectantly in a semi-circle, huddled up in the wool blankets we’d been given. Only Father stood erect, towering above everyone else, wearing his eternal brimmed hat, expensive, now oil-stained wool coat, and his fine leather gloves that were already worn out. The minutes passed and expectations grew, gradually mixed with impatience.
A cold wind blew, stinging our exposed cheekbones. Men and women pulled up the edges of their blankets to protect their faces. A wave of whispers passed through the crowd. Many tried to hazard a guess as to the nature of the message, a message so important that Spitzer himself had to deliver it.
It grew so cold that people started to jump up and down to keep warm. A few had even given up and returned to the boats when, suddenly, the sound of an engine was heard and a long, black car appeared around a bend in the road. It slowly drove closer, and we all waited to hear what the man in charge of this trip had to say. He emerged from the car, an elderly man with gentle, yet tormented features, dressed in a long wool coat and a gray broad-brimmed hat similar to Father’s. A cigarette was stuck in the corner of his mouth, and he walked with stern, assured steps to where his deputy, Naftali Bata, was waiting for him. Everyone called Naftali Bata Gedalja “the almighty,” because there was nothing he couldn’t organize in his quiet and pleasant way.
They shook hands. Mr. Spitzer threw away his cigarette stub and began by thanking everyone who had helped to arrange this trip, such as Avriel and Braginsky, whose names I’d heard before. He went on with a detailed and tiring description of his efforts to enable us to continue our journey. He had sent letters with pleas for help to everyone. But so far, he’d encountered only inertia and apathy. He was trying to arrange a large ship to carry us all from Sulina Bay to the Mediterranean. He detailed the letters he’d sent, the ones he’d received, and even took them out of his pocket and waved them at us. And yet, in spite of all his efforts, the ship that was supposed to reach Sulina had not yet arrived. The moment he received a telegram with news of the waiting ship, he’d give the order for the boats to continue their journey.
“It’s very close. Closer than you imagine. But so far, a week has gone by and the telegram is yet to come.”
A wave of booing and catcalls passed through the crowd of listeners. Sime tried to shush everyone, claiming he had some more important news for us, but people simply wouldn’t let him speak. Finally, “the almighty” Bata asked for permission to speak and managed to silence the crowd, though not for long.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry I can’t bring you good news, but we must be patient. We’ve decided to wait in Prahovo Bay until the telegram arrives.”
The booing and insults hurled by the crowd at Sime Spitzer became louder and louder, until two young men leaped forward with raised fists, and shouted, “Liar, liar! Do something, and do it right now!”
Father, who was standing close by, rushed toward them, grabbed one of them by his shoulder, and prevented him from getting any closer to Sime.
“Shame on you, hooligans,” he shouted angrily. “He’s come to help, and this is how you treat him? Who do you think is feeding you here?”
Sime appeared to feel threatened, because the two burly men who accompanied him shielded him with their bodies as they made their way back to the black car.
The large, yellow December sun was about to set and the bitter huddle of people began to disperse and return to the boats.
Unlike everybody else, I was more concerned with my approaching meeting with Inge that evening and less with the fact we had to wait here for another day or two. This time, she’d promised to come. I thought about how lucky I was to meet such a bewitching person on this trip, and I actually didn’t mind if it lasted a few days longer.
That night was even colder than the previous one. Clear skies hung above, embedded with a multitude of twinkling stars. I wore my elegant pants and a short wool coat, and my teeth were c
hattering with cold. I stood on the bridge leading to the command cabin and looked around. My ears were peeled to hear each footstep from below or from the deck. The river was tranquil, and only ripples of water occasionally brushed against the sides of the boat.
Something in my heart told me that tonight she would come. I waited patiently. Now and then, I walked back and forth on the bridge to relieve the tension and warm myself. And there it was. I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and saw a shadow approaching. Surely, it must be her.
“Good evening, Hanne,” she came up to me. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Not so long this time. I’m so happy you came.”
“It’s awfully cold,” she said. “I should have arranged to meet you somewhere else. I had no idea it was so cold up here.”
“Look up. See how beautiful the sky is. ‘The hoar-frost fell on a night in Spring… It fell on the young and tender blossoms…’”
“I didn’t know you had such a poetic soul.”
“The poem? It isn’t mine. It’s Heine’s.”
“You know Heine? They didn’t teach us about him at all.”
“That’s because he’s Jewish. My mother has all his books. Goethe’s too.”
“Your mother looks like such a gentle woman. I had no idea she was so well-educated.”
“She used to hold literary evenings in our house. People would read poetry while she played the piano.”
“Your mother looked very special to me right from the start. I’m not like that. I’m more practical. And I consider myself a believer. It’s how I was brought up.”
“What do you mean, ‘a believer’?” I asked, surprised.
“A believer in Almighty God and the commandments of Judaism. You don’t observe the religious commandments, do you?”
“No. Father only goes to synagogue on Yom Kippur. But so what? That doesn’t make us any less Jewish. We’re simply more liberal-minded.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, and I felt her drawing closer. “I meant to say that when you are closer to religion, you are also closer to God, and being closer to God means upholding his commandments.”