Between Sky and Sea Read online

  ‘Your honour! Herr! Doctor! Panya!’ she implored him in Polish. ‘Have pity in your heart! Don’t take from me my joy. Your honour! Herr! I have only two small children.’

  The officer didn’t even look at her, nor did he understand one word she said. He tore his sleeve away and brushed it as if an ugly insect had crawled on it. Mrs Fabyash turned her back and fumbled with her trembling hands at her blouse. She pulled out a small brooch set with tiny stones and offered it to the officer, saying in Polish:

  ‘Take the brooch Your Honour! Doctor! This is all I possess. I saved this brooch for a black hour. Now the black hour has come! Take it Panya.’

  The officer greedily took the brooch and examined it carefully and expertly to see how much it was worth, debating with himself whether he should take it; but in the end he gave it back.

  Meanwhile the sailors had picked up the child, who did not open her tired eyes, and placed her on the stretcher. Mrs Fabyash stood in the doorway with her arms outstretched like wings and would not let them go out.

  ‘I will stand here,’ she said with great determination, ‘I will not allow you out of here! Only over my dead body!’

  She was so roughly shoved aside that she fell to the floor, and the sailors took the stretcher away.

  Many people had assembled near the door and they sympathised with Mrs Fabyash. The first to step forward were Nathan and Noah, ‘the red’, Bronya’s brother.

  ‘Be more careful!’ Nathan said. ‘Don’t push. Is that the way to treat passengers?’

  The sailors looked him up and down as if they couldn’t understand how this young man had so much cheek and then burst into a loud laugh.

  ‘Passengers? What kind of passengers are you? A band of tramps, that’s what you are! Dirty Jews!’ called the smaller sailor with the scar on his face. He was broad shouldered and nearly black from the sun, with strong hands, on one of which was tattooed a naked dancer with long, slender legs.

  Nathan’s blood drained from his face, his grey eyes became pale and his lips trembled. He wanted to speak out against the sailor but words failed him and a lump stuck in his throat. Noah came to his aid and he spoke more with his hands than his mouth, more in Yiddish than in Greek.

  ‘Take those words back!’ He forced the words out and his black, curly hair fell over his face while his eyes burnt with hatred. He was ready to attack anyone who stood against him.

  ‘Take those words back! We will not allow ourselves to be trampled in the mud. We demand decent treatment! We are human beings!’

  The taller sailor with a head of black hair, a rolling gait, and an Adam’s apple than ran up and down his throat like a mouse angrily taunted Noah. ‘Human beings? Important people! You have been thrown out of everywhere and no one will take you in. All doors and gates are closed to you. We can’t put in at any port because of you. Everybody is afraid you’ll get your feet in and will never go away.’

  The Jews held back Noah who had quite lost control of himself. Everyone began to shout at the sailors, especially at the officer, whom they blamed for the trouble. Although no one had completely understood what the sailor had said, the few words they had followed had hurt them deeply enough. With one voice they shouted in Yiddish:

  ‘Don’t insult passengers! Watch your words!’

  ‘It’s a shame to say such things!’

  ‘Treat us like human beings, not like dogs! Even dogs are treated better.’

  ‘We want food. You eat and drink but we haven’t seen a piece of bread. And as for meat, that’s out of the question! The stew makes us sick and sticks to our teeth like tar. We can’t put it in our mouths: it’s a shame!’

  Hearing the word ‘food’, Marcus Feldbaum, ‘the ox’, stood forth and beat his breast with his powerful fists till it almost echoed.

  ‘We want food!’ he shouted. ‘We are hungry! You are starving the passengers! The world is not all wild and barbarous!’

  When the sailors saw that it was no longer a laughing matter, that the group was growing bigger, they grabbed the stretcher and left. But they still had the last word, for as they were going they shouted back:

  ‘You eat for nothing! Dirty Jews!’

  When the sailors had gone Fabyash looked around and saw that the brooch was missing. He thought that his wife, who had followed the stretcher, must have hidden it. But she knew nothing of it.

  Soon the doctor and one of the sailors returned to Fabyash’s cabin. The sailor threw Fabyash’s suitcase outside and sprayed the cabin with a disinfectant and nailed up the door. Fabyash and his family, together with the suitcase, were led away like convicts.

  A little later, when calm had descended on the ship, the Warsaw doctor was seen to walk in the direction of the captain’s cabin with dignified, assured steps, his black, artist’s hat pulled low down on his forehead. No one knew where he was going or what had suddenly occurred to him. But soon everything was clear, for from the captain’s cabin came shouts. Stealing up to the door, they heard the doctor banging on the table and angrily demanding that he be allowed to see the sick child. He had begun the treatment and demanded to continue to attend to her. He had a right to do that. He had forty years’ practice behind him. He was no mere boy.

  But all his anger and his banging on the table didn’t help him—he was not permitted to enter the ship’s hospital. He left the captain with his head bowed in humiliation. As much as he had been proud and dignified in approaching the captain so he was now dejected and pathetic. He could barely move his legs as he muttered to himself:

  ‘Forty years’ practice behind me! Forty years! So many sick have passed through my hands. What has happened to you, Doctor Bronislaw Mirsky?’

  He stopped and threw his instruments on the deck and pushed them with his feet as though they were worthless things. But soon he picked them up, dusted them, and went on his way.

  Late after lunch Fabyash and his family returned from the disinfecting room. His head was shaved and his clothes rumpled and covered with yellow stains. He looked as if he had just returned from prison. His wife’s head was shaven and covered with tufts of hair like a little boy’s. She looked like a boy, younger by half her years. She smiled foolishly and was very shy but her shame was soon hidden by a scarf.

  The rumour spread that all those who had slept on the lower deck with Fabyash would have to be disinfected. Certainly several sailors had come with him, searched the cabins, looked under the bunks, examined every corner and written something in a notebook. Furiously they shouted names and ordered everyone to line up. The sailors drove everyone along, warning that no one must fall out or hide because time was short—it would soon be nightfall.

  The Jews became frightened, fell in line and allowed themselves to be driven like a flock of sheep. Each one carried his possessions, a tattered suitcase or a bundle, and it looked as though they were going on a long journey. Everyone obeyed the sailors meekly except Bronya Feldbaum, who paced restlessly up and down and shouted that she was not filthy and she would not stand the shame of being dragged off to the disinfecting room like the worst vagrant. In addition, she would not allow them to cut off her hair, she would prefer to jump into the water and take her own life rather than submit to such shame. Meanwhile she covered her head with her hands just like Fabyash’s little girl had. Then she broke away from the others and disappeared for a while. She returned with a triumphant and secretive gleam in her tear-stained, swollen, red eyes. But she couldn’t keep her secret for long. With a wink she told the others that only those women who were quite clean would keep their hair; the scissors would just be run over them.

  Amongst those taken to the disinfecting room was Ida, who stood with her head erect and did not reply to Nathan’s encouraging glance. Nathan waited for her to return and when she came back with her hair trimmed he joked with her and said that she looked prettier than before. The boyish haircut went well with her thick, husky voice and her obstinate manner.

  ‘You look just like a cheeky boy,’ an
d he kissed her hastily clipped hair, ‘a naughty little urchin. It suits you very well.’

  But all the work was of no avail, for that night Reb Lazar’s wife and his son, with the long side curls pushed behind his ears and the traditional cap on his head, both fell ill. And Reb Lazar immediately notified the crew and his family was removed to the hospital.

  CHAPTER VI

  On the following night, while the Warsaw doctor was fast asleep, someone knocked on his door and woke him. In the murky darkness the doctor could see nothing, but he felt a pair of hands pulling at him to call him to a sick person. The doctor trembled with excitement and he could not find his clothes. Not listening to the whispering voice, he followed blindly with his shirt unbuttoned. Obediently he followed a figure through the darkness up and down steps, through side passages, and heard about a sailor who had suddenly become ill.

  The doctor strained to catch the strange words in the darkness and asked about the sailor’s condition. He was once again full of courage and a renewed belief in himself, and he was determined to do everything in his power to save the sick person. He would show everybody who Doctor Bronislaw Mirsky was!

  With a thumping heart the doctor entered the sick man’s cabin. His anxious eyes wandered over the walls and the faces of the sailors who sat around; but he learnt nothing. He searched for the sick man and found him lying in a bunk. He walked over to him, sat down by his side and smelt the alcohol and cheap tobacco that pervaded the cabin. He was in command, and with confidence he began to order the sailors about, gesturing with his hands as to the deaf, scolding them for not looking after the sick person, for leaving him in such a stifling atmosphere where one could hardly breathe. Then he gently patted the sick man and went to work. But no sooner had he put the stethoscope on the patient’s chest than the sick man stood up, stretched himself to his full height, and exploded with laughter right in the doctor’s face. The doctor’s expression changed rapidly in fright and bewilderment and twisted as if from sudden paralysis. All the sailors who had been sitting with serious faces burst out laughing. They were bent double and their uproarious shouts echoed in the stillness of the night. Cushions and other articles flew at the doctor’s head.

  The doctor kept this a great secret, burying it all deep within himself. The Jews discovered it from the sailors themselves who constantly boasted about how they had fooled the distinguished doctor. The insult stirred everyone deeply and they were overcome with indignation. Although more than once they themselves had laughed at the half-senile old doctor and made jokes at his expense, this hoax was more than they could bear. Each one felt the insult personally, and their misery was deepened because Fabyash’s little son had been removed to the hospital and the disease had not spared his neighbour, a healthy, tall young man, nor the deaf Greek passenger’s wife. The whole ship smelt of carbolic. Of the fate of the sick no one knew anything. Mrs Fabyash ran several times a day to the ship’s hospital on her swollen legs, but she was never allowed inside. She had forgotten that she was not allowed to exert herself and the swelling of her legs and hands was growing worse. She hung around the hospital door and more than once she almost got inside; but she was always pushed out and sent away.

  Reb Lazar remained calm and went about as if nothing had happened. This irritated Fabyash and he muttered angrily to himself:

  ‘He’s neither a man nor a father.’

  He could not understand Reb Lazar’s behaviour, for it appeared that he was not worried at all.

  ‘He has a parched heart like a bandit! What’s the use of his praying all day?’

  The Jews could not remain silent about the story of the doctor’s humiliation or about the insults of the sailors when they removed Fabyash’s little daughter to hospital, and they decided to go and complain to the captain. People shouldn’t be trodden underfoot; the world isn’t altogether lawless! If we allow ourselves to be trodden on things will only get worse. Something must be done about it!

  They assembled in Rockman’s cabin. The chairman was Zainval Rockman himself, who still held his head high. He suffered from nothing so much as the absence of cigarettes. He was a heavy smoker and his hands and his small shovel-like beard, which he was always stroking, were still stained with nicotine. He could readily have dispensed with food and water for the sake of a cigarette which would have calmed his nerves. From habit Rockman produced the silver cigarette case which was the only relic from his regally furnished three rooms and a kitchen; but he found nothing in it. His eyes always searched the floor and on more than one occasion he was tempted to pick up the cigarette butts the sailors had thrown away, but at the last moment he had restrained himself. He had no money to bribe the sailors with and he hadn’t the heart to give away the cigarette case, the last of his belongings and the only souvenir of his engagement to the young wife who had died soon after their marriage. How would he have looked in the eyes of his daughter, now a grown-up woman? And he couldn’t lower himself to ask for a cigarette. Reb Zainval Rockman was not in the habit of holding out his hand; he was more accustomed to giving. He who was accustomed to giving away cigarettes wouldn’t ask for one—especially as he was afraid of a refusal.

  The Jews who had assembled in Rockman’s cabin decided to go to the captain and demand to be told what had happened to the sick: if they were being treated or just lying in the hospital like dogs. Things must not be allowed to drift. They could not wait any longer. Every day things were getting worse! They could not remain silent!

  But there was no one to go. Who would be able to explain what they wanted, to use a strong word where necessary? Someone suitable would have to be chosen, or perhaps two, to defend the insulted Jews.

  Soon it became clear that there was nothing to worry about, for Nathan and Noah were both anxious to go. Nathan said he knew something of the Greek language and he would be able to speak up.

  So away they went. The captain did not receive them immediately, saying he would have some spare time later in the day. They waited impatiently and when they finally appeared before the captain they found that he did not seem to be as bad a man as had been thought. To tell the truth, he was very nervous, sickly and silent. He fidgeted on his chair; to every ten words he answered with one; he glanced continually at his wrist-watch and kept brushing with his hand the captain’s cap that lay on the table. Every few minutes he got up and, from beneath his stiff, unruly eyebrows like birds’ nests, he gazed around the poorly furnished cabin. On the small, plain table lay untidy writing materials and a photograph of a woman. A battered cupboard, a few chairs and an old map which almost covered one wall, completed the furnishings.

  The captain barely understood what Nathan was saying and screwed up his thin, long face as if wanting to help him squeeze out the words that lay so heavily on his tongue. In the end the captain made out what it was he wanted to say and he became pale, as anger spread from his thin, determined lips to his sharply marked sideboards. But he controlled himself and smilingly promised that he would do whatever lay in his power to see that the passengers should have nothing more to complain of.

  But the good work was wasted, for only a few hours after Nathan and Noah returned with the good tidings, a sailor attacked Bronya Feldbaum and dragged her into a corner out of sight of everybody. The sailor was short and very broad, with strangely long, gnarled arms that projected from his short-sleeved, dirty shirt like twisted roots. His arms were so long that they almost reached to the ground and they were as strong as they were long. He grabbed Bronya in these arms as in an iron vice, at the same time glancing meaningfully at his bulging pockets. His lips were wet and pouting and he breathed out burning words.

  ‘I have a tin of sardines. You’re beautiful,’ he whispered passionately, and his small eyes narrowed and became dull like faded beads.

  ‘A full tin! They would give me a fortune for it but I won’t take it. I kept it for my beauty—to make my sweet pigeon look even better. And I’ve got something else here. Come with me and I will show you. Co
me! Over there no one will see us.’

  The sailor said much more to Bronya, explaining with his hands to make sure she would understand him. He pointed to and winked at his stuffed pockets as if great treasure was hidden there, and poured out affectionate and lewd words. He pointed boastfully to himself and said that he was a real man and that she was his chosen one. She was not to worry that he was so ugly. He emptied his pockets at her feet and rapidly pleaded in his own language, forgetting that she could not understand a word.

  ‘Here! Take everything I’ve got.’

  He pressed her to his heavy body.

  ‘I can’t sleep at night because of you. You have robbed me of my sleep, my beautiful one, my sweet one.’

  Bronya was revolted by the sailor and was afraid that someone might overhear. She knew him. He was very hardworking and often did the work of others, so that the sailors made jokes at his expense and treated him as a fool. Bronya pleaded with him with tears in her eyes, and struggled with him till she was exhausted. Suddenly she became possessed of such strength that with one shove she pushed him away from her so that he staggered and almost fell backwards.

  His eyes blazed craftily to warn her that he knew she was no innocent girl and he winked insolently to imply that he was not one of those fools who could be fobbed off with nothing.

  ‘I want to enjoy myself too,’ he tittered. ‘Why shouldn’t I? In what way is the steward you knock around with at night better than me? Is it because he’s handsome? He’s got the face of a doll. They’ve got their eyes on him, don’t worry. He won’t steal any more of those delicacies for you. They’re watching that thief all right. You’ll die of hunger now. Who’ll give you nice things to keep your body beautiful?’