Munich Signature (20 page)

“Humber . . . Humber . . .
Humber?
There is a place called
Humber?
But where is the
Thames?
And where is
London
, boy?”

Little fishing boats peeled off into another enormous-looking bay. “Still not the Thames,” Aaron proclaimed with authority. “It is called the Walsh.” He raised his chin slightly with a gesture that pointed to some distant place that only he could see. “Over there is a harbor called Boston on a river called Witham, which leads to another city called Leeds.”

This lesson from Baedeker’s was far more interesting than Torah school had been.

“What is next, Aaron? What will come after this Walsh place?
Nu
! Tell us, Aaron.”

Aaron became a sort of prophet. “We follow the steamship lanes.” The assembly looked at the water as if there were a visible lane the freighter would follow.
Hmms
and
ahhs
of understanding rippled through the impromptu class.

Aaron continued. “Then we round a part of England that looks like a mitten.” He held up his hand to display four fingers as they would be tucked into a woolen mitten on a cold day. On the tips of each finger he placed a city: Wells, Cromer, and Great Yarmouth rounded the curve, and Dunwich, the Naze, Blackwater, and Foulness followed his index finger.

These names were tried on Yiddish tongues without much success. At last, Aaron pointed decisively to the curve in his hand where thumb met the index finger. “And here is the
Thames
!”

Everyone held up imaginary mittens on left hands. A sigh of contentment rose up through the flock. “The Thames is
here
! And the great city of London is
there
. . . right in the crook of your thumb. This lesson is as plain as a hand in front of your eyes!
Oy
! Who said this congregation does not know where we are going?”

The terror of battleship wakes diminished as eager eyes studied phantom maps and repeated foreign-sounding cities over and over again. “Perhaps in England we will have a chance to walk a bit on dry land while the captain provisions the ship,
nu
?”

“Already two days. The earth will move beneath us when we walk, we are so used to the wobbles of the sea.”

“Still . . . solid planks. A store where we can buy a pillow maybe? A blanket? You think these English docks sell deck chairs?”

“You have money, Chaim?”

“More than that—maybe they will take that poor creature to a hospital. How he must be suffering!
Oy
!”

This sentiment was shared by everyone on the ship. Captain Burton, it was rumored, had already radioed ahead to the English authorities for an ambulance and a stretcher to carry the poor stowaway to medical help. Yes, this was a good thing, this stopover in England. The British were kind and gentle people, Aaron told them. His father had told him so.

At last, the
Darien
labored down the index finger to the crook of the thumb and the mouth of the Thames. Was it possible that all of them, even the surly Orthodox Jews, were now on the deck? The passengers were packed like kosher herring from bow to stern. The rabbi of Nuremberg began to sing in a quavering voice, and the hymn of praise was caught by stronger voices. They had so much to be grateful for. Here in these waters there were no Nazi battleships. No stones would be hurled at them from the docks or bridges. Here men were civilized, and such a thing could not happen.

***

It was Trudy who first raised her arm to point at the little naval vessel speeding across the water toward them. “Look!” the child cried. “Look, Mama, it is flying the English flag!”

The Union Jack posed stiffly in the wind as the little boat altered its course slightly to intersect that of the
Darien
. Klaus swallowed hard. The men in their British uniforms stood scowling up at them. Their commander raised a bullhorn and shouted up to Captain Burton: “In the name of His Majesty, you are denied anchorage in British waters! Again, I repeat . . . ”

Maria and Klaus looked back at the dim glass of the bridge. The shadow of Captain Burton raised a fist in defiance, but the thrumming engines of the freighter groaned and dropped to an unsteady heartbeat as the ship stopped in the water. The passengers moaned as one suffering human soul together. So this was their welcome to civilization!

What radio communication had been taking place between Burton and the port authorities? Klaus suddenly wondered.

“
SS Darien
!” the commander of the naval vessel bellowed. “You are denied anchorage in British waters! You will change course or we shall be forced to take punitive action.”

Worried refugees crowded around Maria for an interpretation of the ominous-sounding words of the Englishman. “What is he saying? What? They will not let us stop even awhile here? First Nazi battleships, and now the English!
Oy
! We look so dangerous?”

The door to the bridge burst open. Maria could see the first mate at the helm. Captain Burton stood grimly gripping the railing as the naval vessel came alongside. Burton’s lips moved, silently cursing the arrogant sailors who now called up, demanding to come aboard.

A rope ladder was lowered by a crew member who obeyed the single nod of Burton’s head. The old rabbi from Nuremberg stepped near to the rail and muttered a prayer for deliverance as the British commander boarded with five armed sailors. Captain Burton did not offer to come down from his perch. Nor did he invite the British sailors up. He simply stood with arms crossed until they dusted off their white trousers and shielded their eyes against the sun as they looked toward him.

The British commander stood in the center of a semicircle of his men. Rifles were unslung and the men turned to face the crowd of refugees.

“I want
you
to tell them!” Captain Burton shouted. “Go ahead! Tell them that we are denied anchorage even for a few hours for provisions!”

The British commander put a hand on his hips, his legs apart to brace himself in case some desperate character charged him.

“Your ship carries unauthorized cargo,” he called back. “Potentially dangerous to our country as the immigration quota now stands.”

“Tell them how you won’t let us get close to shore because you are afraid some might jump ship and swim to land. Go ahead! Explain why you are doing this, Commander, after two hours of radio negotiation!”

The refugees pushed nearer. They seemed unafraid of the weapons.

Trudy hugged Gretchen, who proclaimed loudly, “I won’t jump into the water unless God parts it again!”

Ada-Marie added in a small voice, “Mama, I cannot swim!”

The commander did not look at all distressed by the crowd around him. Indeed he maintained such a superior stance that Maria could not help but think how much like a German officer he seemed.

“This is not a matter that I have within my power to change,” the Englishman said. “I am following orders from higher authorities. We have been warned that a shipload of illegal immigrants sailed from Hamburg. We simply have no room for you. The quotas are full, and—”

Captain Burton interrupted angrily. “And I explained that this is a
temporary
stop. A few hours.”

“We refuse to take that chance. You will not be allowed any closer to Southampton or London. You have been warned.”

As if to emphasize this point, two more British ships—coastal cutters—sounded horns as they raced to reinforce the first vessel.

“Then for the sake of human decency,” Burton called back, “will you provide medical attention for the injured seaman below decks?”

He was speaking of the battered man from the ventilation shaft. Every passenger knew the fellow was not a seaman, but perhaps these Englishmen would take him to a hospital on the land.

“You have received the reply of the immigration authorities on that matter as well, Mr. Burton. You say the fellow lost his papers? Without proper papers we will not take responsibility for—”

“Medical supplies, then?” Burton roared the question like an accusation.

The British commander hesitated, then turned and called down to his ship’s crew. “Send a first-aid kit up here!”

A silent minute passed until a small white metal box with a red cross was brought up the side and given to the commander. This was then taken by the doctor, who flipped open the lid, rummaged through the meager contents and shook his head in dismay. “Our fellow has been burned. He will be in a great deal of pain when he awakes from our last bit of morphine. He may well die.”

“Then bury him at sea!” the commander snapped. He turned on his heel and with two strides was over the edge of the freighter. His seamen followed. Those men, at least, looked embarrassed and ashamed by the incident.

Three defiant British craft now idled in the path of the
Darien.

“What shall we do, Captain?” Klaus called up.

The captain’s eyes were still hidden beneath the brim of his hat. He peered over the crowded deck and then toward the English flags that fluttered on the stern of each craft. He let his eyes linger there a moment and then glared at the sailors who manned the small cannon on those vessels.

Could they mean that they would fire on the
Darien
? Here, at the mouth of the Thames? Only miles from London and Trafalgar and Parliament. Could they do such a thing? England raged so against fighting any sort of war—was this happening here? But then, this was not war. This was law. This was illegal human contraband. This was “full quotas.”

The captain did not answer. He reentered the bridge and shut the door quietly behind him.

Would he ram through these English boats? Maria wondered. The chug of the British engines was countered by a loud rumble as the freighter began to move again. It swung to port, out to sea. The harbor patrol escorted it ahead and on either side.

Klaus stood beside the doctor, who still held the first-aid box in his perspiring hands. The man was weeping silently. Klaus had not noticed before.

“Our enemies rejoice at this moment.” The doctor stared at the red cross. “Can you hear them laughing? Can you?”

Klaus did not reply as the doctor made his way unsteadily toward the hatch that led to the infirmary.

12

England

Charles stood at the rail of the observation deck and gazed at the myriad large and small ships sculling across the water. There was land plainly visible on each side of the ship now.

“England,” Murphy told him. “This is it, Charles.”

Elisa stood, unsmiling, beside a telescope with a coin slot. “Would you like to see close up?” she asked. There was a weariness in her words that did not match the excitement Charles was feeling at his first glimpse of the mouth of the Thames.

He nodded enthusiastically as she deposited a single tuppence into the slot and the telescope ticked to life. Charles peered through the lens and swept the instrument from one side to the other until he was dizzy with the way land and ships
whooshed
past his vision.

“Only look at one thing at a time,” Murphy instructed, holding the instrument ready. “Close one eye and look with the other.”

Charles obeyed. Holding his hand over his right eye he looked with the left. Now he could see details: a fishing boat with men hauling in nets; a steamer like the one they were traveling on; garbage scows, hauling the trash of London and Southampton out to sea; and three little Navy ships bobbing in the water beside a much bigger ship. Here were sailors with cannons and many people on the decks of the big ship. There was a British officer in a white uniform with gold braid on his shoulder. There were all kinds of people on the big ship. Old and young. Mothers with hands on the shoulders of frightened-looking children. The English sailors looked afraid, too. A ragged man on the deck of the bridge looked as if he were shouting. It was all close up like a scene in a silent movie Charles had watched once.

Charles lifted his head and suddenly the ship and the people were far across the waters again. Murphy did not notice, but there was something familiar to Charles in such a sight. The boy pressed his eye back to the telescope. He saw men in long black coats and little round hats, with bearded faces. These were Jews, Charles knew. Maybe not everyone on the ship, but at least some of the people were Jews. Charles had seen such people in Germany. He knew that the Nazi Storm Troopers hated the Jews even more they hated Charles and his cleft palate.

At the thought, he instinctively put his hand to where his muffler covered his mouth. It was important to hide such things as broken mouths and Jewishness. Perhaps even in England. After all, even here the English sailors had rifles ready to shoot the Jews! He shifted his focus to the small military craft hovering in the water beside the freighter. Soldiers with helmets; cannons that pointed up toward the hull of the big ship.

Then Charles saw what the English soldiers were angry about. There was a faded yellow name on the nose of the big ship; the letters began
SS
and then there were more letters that Charles could not read. The
SS
designation was enough. This must be a ship filled with Jews and the
Nazi SS
! Those sailors would not want a ship with such initials in England!

The ticking of the observation telescope stopped and the scene went black, like a broken film in a motion picture theater.

“Well, what did you think of that?” Elisa asked brightly.

Charles wanted to answer. He nodded a thanks to her and then pointed far across the waters to where the little drama had been acted out.

“You could see all the way over there?” Murphy asked in mock amazement. Murphy could not see any of the details from this distance. Now Charles wished he had not used up all of the tuppence time himself. He wanted Murphy to see it, to explain it to him.

***