The Other Half of Life (17 page)

Thomas jumped up. Priska stood too, teetering on her
feet at first. The passengers on the
Arrieta
were indeed filing off onto a launch. Frau Rosen screamed. Lisbeth started crying, huge sobs that shook her whole body, even her enormous belly.

Professor Affeldt climbed up one of the masts so he was above the panicked crowd. “Listen,” he yelled out over everyone. He waved his arms, trying to get their attention. “Listen up! Screaming like this will not advance our cause! Do you want to get off this ship?”

Lisbeth wiped her face on her sleeve. Margot clutched her doll to her chest.

Jürgen said, “Quiet! Listen to the man!”

Herr Kleist fell silent and the rest of the crowd settled too. Professor Affeldt continued, “This could be a good sign. Others are being admitted. Hopefully we will be next. Above all else, we need to stay calm. Remember, there are many people who think we Jews are animals. We need to behave in accordance with all measure of the law. We need to show them the refined and civilized people we are.”

Frau Rosen spoke up. “He's right. We must stay calm.”

“By asking our questions politely, we will find out the situation at hand,” Professor Affeldt added.

The captain had come on deck and was listening to Professor Affeldt. Thomas wondered if he would be threatened or upset by Professor Affeldt's taking charge of his ship, and if he might order him to stop immediately. But
Professor Affeldt finished of his own accord and stepped down, at which point the captain asked to have a word with him on the bridge.

Professor Affeldt walked off with the captain. Be hind him, Herr Kleist ranted, “Where do they think they're going?”

“Enough from you!” Frau Rosen snapped.

Herr Kleist scowled but he kept quiet while they waited. Thomas watched Priska, wondering how long she could stay mad at him and whether he would ever get the chance again to kiss her. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her lips were a flat line, as if to say she would stay angry for a long while.

When Professor Affeldt returned, everyone rushed to gather around him.

“What did he say?” Oskar asked.

Herr Kleist wiped at his watery eye. “Yes, you must tell us.”

Professor Affeldt motioned for them to calm down. “The captain is forming a passenger committee to serve as a liaison between himself and the passengers, relaying information so as to cut down on the questions and confusion. He has asked me to be on the committee.”

“Who else is on it?” Elias asked.

“Herr Seliger, Herr Feuerbach, and Doktor Carell.”

Oskar rolled his eyes. “All old men.”

Professor Affeldt nodded slowly, as if giving himself
time to choose his next words carefully. “The captain made his choice based on what he has observed on the voyage.”

“What did he say?” Elias asked. “What's the holdup?”

“Yes, tell us the situation … honestly,” Frau Rosen added.

“The president of Cuba has issued a decree saying that we cannot land because we do not have visas.”

“But we have landing permits,” Frau Rosen pointed out.

“Yes, and they are apparently not the same thing.”

Elias furrowed his brow. “Then why did they sell them to us and say we would be allowed in?”

“It's a German plot,” Oskar said. “I knew it when they made us pay for a return trip, claiming it was just insurance against unforeseen circumstances.”

Others added their voices:

“Why can't they at least let us leave?”

“It's not enough to strip us of everything we have?”

“This is just like the Nazis … it never stops with them.”

Professor Affeldt shook his head. “No, in fact, this seems to have more to do with Cuba. Apparently they don't always do things in a lawful manner.”

“What will we do now?” Oskar pressed Professor Affeldt.

“Tomorrow a representative from the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee in New York City is coming. They are pleading our case.”

Oskar insisted, “We need to take action and get this situation resolved.”

Professor Affeldt held up a hand to him. “I have said
this many times today and I will say it again … all we can do for now is wait.”

Professor Affeldt tried to move away but the crowd wouldn't let him, barraging him with more questions.
Would they at least be allowed ashore to visit with their loved ones while everything was cleared up? Did they have enough food and water to last them?

Thomas shifted around the group, heading for where Priska had been standing on the other side. But once he maneuvered by all the people, she was gone.

O
ver the next day, all manner of small boats— rowboats, skiffs, catamarans—anchored alongside the ship. A Cuban man called up to the passengers, offering brightly colored fruit.

“Do you have any pineapples?” Thomas asked.

He held up a coconut and Thomas shook his head. “Pineapple?”

The man offered a bunch of bananas. On the third try, he produced a pineapple. Thomas took a few coins from his pocket. He dropped one down to the man and waited. “More?”

The man nodded.

Thomas dropped another coin down. The man threw the pineapple up to him. Thomas caught it. The sharp points prickled his hands.

Down below, a man in another skiff called up in German, asking for Lisbeth Cohn. Moments later Lisbeth ran to the railing. At first Thomas thought she might go straight over
the side of the ship, but she stopped and held out her hands. The man blew kisses to her and told her not to worry. She picked up Margot and, heaving her over her giant belly, held her above the railing. Margot had a puzzled look on her face, and Lisbeth kept repeating through her tears, “There's Vati. Wave to Vati.”

Thomas heard Priska's voice behind him. “What craziness.”

Thomas held the pineapple toward her. “You said the first thing you would do in Havana was have a pineapple.”

She smiled. “Is that a peace offering?”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Will it work?”

“Come on,” she said. “Let's go find a way to cut this up.”

At the bar they asked the bartender for a plate and knife.

“I'll do one better for you,” he said, and took the pineapple. He returned moments later with it neatly cored and sliced, accompanied by two bowls of sweet cream. “It tastes delicious with cream on top.”

“Thank you,” Priska said.

“Yes,” Thomas mumbled, still skeptical about trusting any kindness from the crew. “Thank you.”

The bartender nodded. “It's the least I can do.”

Priska took a bite and proclaimed, “Delicious.”

Next to them, a man downed a drink and ordered another brandy and water.

“You're not mad at me anymore?” Thomas asked.

Priska let out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess not.”

She smiled and took another bite of pineapple. He thought she seemed oddly happy given what was going on, and he asked, “Aren't you worried about what will happen to us?”

She shook her head. “It'll get sorted out with time. If the landing permits were no good, they wouldn't have given them to us. We wouldn't have kept going if we were just going to have to turn around.”

Thomas stared at her. Before they had arrived in the Havana harbor, her outlook had seemed stubbornly optimistic. Now it seemed only foolhardy. He wondered if her father had lied to her about what was happening. Thomas wanted to protect her too, but he wouldn't go so far as to lie to her.

“You don't believe it will all work out?” she said.

“I'm not sure.”

Priska swirled the cream in her bowl. “You have to have faith.”

“I'm trying to remain hopeful.”

“I didn't say hope. I said faith. There's a difference.”

Thomas squinted.

Priska explained, “Hope is wishing for something. Faith is believing in something.”

She took a few more bites of pineapple, then put her spoon beside her bowl and declared, “I, for one, think we need to do something.”

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked. He couldn't imagine how they could do much of anything.

“Something to distract people. I was thinking of a chess tournament …. We'll get lots of people to play.”

“I'm not sure that's what we need,” Thomas said.

“That's precisely what we need,” she argued. “Something else to focus on.”

Thomas scooped up the remaining bit of cream in his bowl. He had learned there was not much sense in trying to dissuade her when she had an idea in her head. And chess was easier for him than hope or faith. “Well, I suppose we could ….”

“Good, now how do we set up a tournament?”

“We'll have four rounds. No one will be eliminated so everyone can keep playing, regardless of how good they are, but as the rounds progress we'll end up with the best players playing each other.”

Priska took a last bite and put down her spoon. “Come on, then, we have work to do.”

Priska and Thomas split up and canvassed the ship, asking people if they wanted to play in the tournament. Thomas was surprised at how many people said yes. He began to think Priska was right—this was just what they needed. They met up again in the social hall and Priska handed Thomas her list. He scanned the names—Wilhelm and Jürgen, of course; Paul; other men he didn't know; and even a few women. His breath caught in his throat as he
read one of the names at the end of her list:
Manfred
. Before Thomas could say anything, Priska said, “I couldn't very well tell him he couldn't play.”

“Why not? You could have said it was for passengers only.”

“He's probably not very good anyway.”

What Priska didn't know, of course, was that Manfred was very good. And for that matter, Thomas didn't see who could beat him. Surely not Jürgen, unless he got lucky. Perhaps Wilhelm. Otherwise it would have to be someone Thomas didn't know, or Thomas himself. Although the idea of playing Manfred again was daunting, it also sent a little spark up Thomas's spine. He might get his chance at revenge after all.

Thomas sighed. “I guess we have no choice but to let him play.” He sat down with the list and started drawing up the matchups. In the first round Thomas would play Steffi Safier, a woman he didn't know by name. Manfred would play Paul.

When the matchups were set, they posted the schedule on the bulletin board outside the dining hall and asked the purser to make an announcement over the loudspeaker. A few moments later they heard: “A chess tournament will begin at two o'clock this afternoon in the social hall. The first-round matchups are posted.”

Priska gave Thomas a satisfied smile. Even Thomas
couldn't help but be pleased. Instead of standing around, they had set something in motion.

In the social hall, they moved tables together and set up the four chessboards. Marianne and Hannelore decorated a banner that read
ST. FRANCIS INAUGURAL CHESS TOURNAMENT
.

When they had finished, Thomas asked Priska, “Where should we hang it?”

Priska chuckled. “How about right over Hitler?”

They settled for the wall above the tables where the tournament would be played. Priska filled a pitcher and glasses with water and set them on a side table. She surveyed the room and proclaimed, “We're ready.”