Chapter 3 Chapter two

She's on a very different ship.It was a rusty, paint-spattered, cockroach-infested Turkish cargo ship called the Salvator along the coast.It was docked at a pier in Naples harbor for repairs and was thought to be bound for Turkey when in fact it was bound for Palestine.There had been a storm all week since she had come aboard, and the ship was wrecked.The boat will inevitably rock.It leaned towards the stone pier, the mooring line pulled taut with the tide, and it pitched and swayed as the waves heaved over the breakwater. Natalie sat with her baby on the narrow quarterdeck under a waving flag, a dirty flag with yellow stars and crescents on a crimson ground.Once it was fine she took him out to sit in the afternoon sun.Bearded men and scarfed women gathered around, admiring.There were some thin, sad-eyed children on the Redeemer, and Louis was the only doll still to be held in his arms.She leaned on her lap and looked around, her lively blue eyes blinking in the cold wind.

"Oh, what a pilgrimage to the Holy Child," said Ellen.Jastrow said he exhaled white smoke. "A living adoration of the Christ Child. Louis becomes a charming Christ Child." Natalie grunted, "I'm a terribly unfit Madonna." "Unqualified? No, my dear." Jastrow was wrapped in a navy blue traveling cloak, with a gray hat pulled low on his head.He stroked his neat beard peacefully. "Very qualified, I would say, in face, figure and race of origin!" Elsewhere on the sloping deck Jews crowded the aisles, swarming out of stinking cabins to walk in the sun.They crowded past the lifeboats and crates and barrels and structures on deck, or gathered in the hatchways, chatting away, mostly in Yiddish.Only Jastrow and Natalie sat on the couch under a blanket.Afran, the organizer of the trip to Palestine.Rabinovitz dug these chairs out of the hold, and they were still functional, though moldy and rat-gnawed.The baby-worshippers drifted away, though strollers kept glancing at them.Around the two Americans there was a bit of rusty iron plate left, which was specially set aside to show respect for them.Jastrow was considered "the great American writer" as soon as he came aboard.He rarely speaks to anyone, which only adds to his image.

Natalie waved her hand towards the two mountain peaks on the other side of the bay. "Look at Mount Vesuvius! It's the first time it's so obvious!" "A good time to visit Pompeii!" said Jastrow. "Pompeii!" Natalie pointed to a fat policeman wearing a green coat and patrolling the pier. "We'll be caught off the gangplank." "I fully understand that." "Pompey's pretty bad anyway. Do you think so? Thousands of haunted houses with no roofs, no one left in the city suddenly. Huh, no Pompey and those obscene murals, I'm the same Life."

Herbert.Ross squeezed sideways across the deck.He was a head taller than most of the crowd, and his brightly colored California sweatshirt looked like a neon sign amidst the ragged crowd.Natalie and Jastrow rarely saw him, although he arranged for them to leave Rome aboard the Salvator.He stayed in the bunk below with the refugees.This smart film distributor released most of the American films in Italy until war was declared.He was coming off as a Zionist, refusing to share a cabin with the organizers because—as he put it—he also happened to be yet another Jewish fugitive right now.And he got to practice speaking Hebrew.

"Natalie, Avran. Rabinovitz wants to talk to you." "Just Natalie?" Jastrow asked. "Just Natalie." She tucked Louis under the thick brown blanket in the basket.Rabinowitz bought the basket in Naples, along with baby items and a few things for Natalie and his uncle.Natalie had only the clothes she had with her when she fled Rome with her uncle and Rose.The Palestinian also brought on board some canned milk on which Louis lived.In Rome, even in the American embassy, ​​the cans of milk are long gone.Overjoyed, she asked, "Where the hell did you get these things?" Rabinowitz just blinked and turned away.

"Ellen, will you watch him? If he cries, put this pacifier in his mouth." "Is it about our departure?" Jastrow asked Rose as she walked away. Rose sat down on the empty recliner and crossed his slender legs. "He'll tell her about something." He was clean-shaven, bald, and thin, with a nose like a cartoon Jew.His demeanor was thoroughly American, self-assured, casual, and unconsciously conceited. "Very comfortable," he said, reclining comfortably in the recliner. "You Yankees really know how to live." "Have you any other ideas in this regard, Herb?"

"which aspect?" "Sail in this wretched barge." "I don't think it's a broken barge." "It's not the 'Queen Mary.'" "The 'Queen Mary' won't carry Jews to Palestine! Bah! She can carry twenty thousand at once and make a million dollars a trip." "Why did we waste a week?" "The armature for the generator took two days, and then it was windy for three days. We'll drive away, don't worry." A gust of cold wind blows the blanket off Louis, and Rose wraps it up again. "Herb, didn't we--the three of us--haven't been frightened in Rome? Those thugs around the American embassy were a lot of hooligans, and I'm sure they wanted some excitement after the declaration of war."

"Well, the police are picking up people trying to get into the embassy from all directions. We both saw that. God knows what will happen to them. Besides, they may not be Jewish yet!" "I'll bet it," said Jastrow, "that as long as there's a problem with their passports, Jewish or not, they're going to be put up in some nice hotel right now, waiting to be exchanged with Italians they've picked up in America." Ross snapped him off: "As long as I can't go back to Rome, I'm not going. I'm having a good time." "How are you doing with your new language?" Jastrow said in perfect Hebrew.

"My God!" Rose glared at him. "You can teach, can't you?" "There's nothing that can replace a Jewish seminary education in Poland." Jastrow smiled, stroked his beard, and said in Boston English again. "Why don't you go on in the school? I'm not even ordained. I can't forgive my parents." "Oh, what youth and ignorance," said Jastrow. "I couldn't wait to get out of the school, it was like a prison." Natalie was walking towards Rabinowitz's cabin on the bridge.She had never been there before.He invited her to sit in the chair next to his desk, which was piled high with papers, dirty laundry, and greasy tools.He was sitting on an unmade bed, his back hunched against a bulkhead decorated with dark brown nudes ripped from magazines.The light from the only electric light was so dim and the tobacco smoke so thick that Natalie could only see these things.At her awkward smile, Rabinovitz shrugged.He was wearing oil-stained overalls that were cumbersomely oversized.His round face had turned a dusty gray from exhaustion.

"This is the chief engineer's art collection. I'm taking his room. Mrs. Henry, I need three hundred dollars. Can you and your uncle help out?" She was taken aback, but said nothing.He went on: "Herb. Ross would have given the money, but he's paid way too much. We wouldn't have gotten this far without him. I hope you and your uncle each A hundred dollars. That would be fair. Old men are petty, so I thought I'd ask you to consider it." Rabinowitz spoke clear English, but with a strong foreign accent and his slang was out of date. Outdated, like something out of an old novel.

"What is this money for?" "Fetchi—metchi," he said, smiling wearily, moving his thick thumb back and forth between the two fingers. "Bribe. The harbor master won't let us leave the port. I don't know why. He was friendly at first, but then changed." "Do you think you can bribe him?" "Oh, not to bribe him, but to bribe our captain. You saw him, the bearded old rascal in the blue coat. If we leave illegally, he'll lose his ship's papers. Harbor authority He has the papers. I believe he does it often, he is a smuggler. But it will be paid for." "Wouldn't that be too dangerous?" 'I don't think so.If the coast guard stopped us, we said we were testing the repaired engine and drove back.We are no worse off than we are now. " "If we get stopped, will he give the money back?" "Good question, and my answer is: he didn't take the money until we had gone three miles." For a whole week Natalie had spent too much time thinking about it, imagining all sorts of unfortunate reasons why she couldn't set sail, and wondering if she had done the right thing in fleeing Rome.Every day she thought about crossing the Mediterranean in such a heavy ship, and she felt more and more bleak about her future.Still, she decided that at least her baby would be able to escape the Germans.But it's by violating fascist laws and trying to escape a coast guard gunboat! As she sat silent, Rabinowitz said in a stern, if not hostile, tone: "Well, that's fine. I'll get all the money from Rose." "No, I'll help," Natalie said. "I'm sure Ellen will too. I just don't like doing it." "I don't like it either, Mrs. Henry, but we can't sit here. We've got to try and do something." Dr. Jastrow was writing in his notebook, and on a hatch near him two young men were arguing over an open and battered Talmud.Ross is gone.Jastrow breaks off work; listening to them debate a point in Gittin (a treatise on divorce).Jastrow was kissed many times by his teachers in the Polish seminary for clarifying issues in Gittin.That wet, fuzzy feeling was present in his mind now.It made him laugh.Seeing him laughing, the two arguing people smiled shyly at him too.One of them touched his battered hat and said in Yiddish: "Does the great writer understand these nerve-wracking arguments?" Jastrow nodded kindly. Another young man--with a thin yellow face, a shaggy moustache, sunken shining eyes, and a scholastic air--speaked excitedly. "Would you join us in the discussion? Maybe teach us?" "I did learn the Talmud when I was a kid," said Jastrow dryly, in correct Polish, "but I'm afraid that was a long time ago. I'm pretty busy now." The two were convinced, and resumed their studies.They walked away before long, much to Jastrow's relief.When he got back to writing, he thought it might be fun to join the lads and surprise them with extraordinary memories.Fifty years later, he remembered this chapter of their debate.Childhood brain memory is really strong ah!But there is still a long journey ahead.In such a crowded environment, especially among these religiously close Jews, it was the only way not to get too close to them. Jastrow was starting a new book, and was passing the time while making some use of his unpleasant awkward situation.He titled his new book, A Jew's Journey, in a deliberate nod to his hugely successful book, A Jew's Jesus.What was on his mind, however, was not a travel diary.Just like Marcus.Aurelius wrote immortal meditations by candlelight on the battlefield, and Jastrow intends to reflect his brilliant thoughts on faith, war, the human condition, and personal life by describing his own wartime exile.He thought the idea would fascinate his publisher; and if he wrote it, it might even become a book club recommendation again.At any rate, at his age, it would be useful spiritual sustenance.Jastrow combined thoughtfulness, imagination, and the idea of ​​making money, and based on this characteristic idea he had already written much in the first notebook he had borrowed from Rabinowitz.He knew the book would never be as successful as A Jew's Jesus. A Jew's Jesus was a huge book club success and a bestseller for its novel portrayal of Jesus living in austere reality as a rabbi-verso prodigy and Palestine itinerant preacher list. After the two lads from the seminary had gone away, he felt that this little scene had merit in writing.He expands on that delicate argument in the section on divorce.Long ago, in the raucous reading hall of the Auschwitz Seminary, he had been with his clever cousin, Beryl.Jastrow has debated this argument many times in many of the same words.He described the distant scene.He gently pokes fun at his gradual transformation into a sober Westernized agnostic.If Barrell had lived, he wrote, if he had been asked to argue the first point of the section on page twenty-seven on divorce, he would have zealously figured it out and refuted the two school boys.Baen Riel has remained faithful to the ancient orthodoxy.Now who can tell which of them is the wiser choice? But what about Barrell?is he still aliveThe last time I saw him was through the eyes of my adventurous and well traveled niece.He stood among the smoky ruins of the Warsaw Ghetto that was bombed by Germany in 1939—straight, busy, old, but strong and strong like a farmer, with Orthodox gray beard.As the head of the family, the leader of the ghetto, and a wealthy businessman, under the appearance of observing the customs, he is a survivor who is as strong as steel. In the Christian legend, Erhaisius, an indestructible vagabond of Jews.Ben Riel was seven or eight years younger than me, and he served four years at the front in World War I.He had been a soldier; he had been a prisoner of war; he had escaped; he had fought on several fronts and in three different armies.During that time, all those dangers were experienced (as he had told me in his letters, and I believed it).Not only was he safe and sound, but he hadn't eaten——, kosher food.A man who can keep our old God and our ancient law in his mind for this would indeed put to shame his assimilated cousin who wrote about Jesus.However, the voice of enlightened humanism, while paying homage to this, is quite capable of asking whether it is living in a dream, however comfortable and powerful it may be—"Damn Furen! How long has he been like this Huh?" Natalie leaned over the basket, angrily pulling the fluttering blanket back onto Louis, who had started to cry. "Oh, isn't it covered?" said Ellen, startled. "I'm sorry, he's as quiet as a little mouse." "Oh, it's time to feed him." She lifted the basket and gave him a very angry look. "If he's not frozen and still able to eat, it's time to feed him." "What does Rabinowitz want?" She told him bluntly. "Really, Natalie! That's a lot of money! Illegal Sail 2 That's a hell of a thing. We've got to be careful with money, you know, it's the only way we can survive." "We've got to fight here and get out, that's our way of life." "Rabinowitz is kind of blackmailing rich Americans, though—hey, Natalie, don't be so sullen! I'm just saying—" "Listen, if you don't trust him, go ashore and give yourself up. Rose and I split the three hundred." "God L why are you talking so vilely to me? I'll pay for it." A loud jolt woke her up.She sat up, clutching the cardigan she wore over her sleeping pajamas, and looked out through the open porthole.Cold, foggy, fishy air drifted in.The pier recedes in the foggy night.She could hear the splash of water from the propeller.Ellen was snoring on the top bunk.On the deck beside her the baby was rustling and whirring in his basket. She curled up again under the rough blanket because it was cold.Let's sail!Setting sail is always exhilarating; the adventure of sneaking through the trappings of Nazi Europe is doubly exhilarating.Drowsily, she thought all the way to Palestine, told Byron the news, and started home.She doesn't know the geography of the Middle East.Presumably she could find her way to Australia from Suez, and from there to Hawaii?Waiting for the end of the war in Palestine will not do.It was nothing more than a poor country endemic to disease.The Germans in North Africa were a threat, as were the Arabs. She became more and more awake with each change in the sound of the engine.Right here at the port, it is already swaying very badly, and I don’t know what it will be like on the high seas!The additional oil tanks welded to the main deck obviously made the ship very unstable.How long does it take to reach the three mile line?Dawn formed a purple halo on the porthole.In such fog, the captain can only drive slowly, and the daylight only increases the possibility of being caught.What an embarrassment!What a dangerous situation!In this way, Natalie lay nervous and worried, clinging to the unstable bed for a long, long half hour, while the porthole was graying. Boom! She immediately jumped up from the bunk and stepped on the icy iron deck with her bare feet.She put on a coarse bathrobe.Natalie had heard a lot of artillery fire in Warsaw.She is familiar with this voice.A cold, clammy wind came in through the porthole and ruffled her hair.On the rough sea, the fog cleared a little, and she saw a gray-white boat with a white number on the bow in the distance ahead.The smoky yellow flash came from that bow. Another bang! The engines rattled, the deck shuddered and tilted, and the ship veered abruptly.She dressed hastily, shivering in the damp air.The room was so small that her elbows and knees chafed against the cold water basin, the bed, and the knob of the door.Ellen was still asleep.She thought it best not to wake him up, he would just tremble with fright. At the porthole, a huge white ship appeared, blocking the black waves and gray sky.The cannon slowly came into view—not very large, painted gray, and held by boyish sailors in short black raincoats.Both ships slowed down.The gunners were looking at the Redeemer and laughing.She could guess why that was: chipped paint, patches of red primer, white topcoat, old rust that hadn't been scraped off; teeth.Rough Italian yelled back and forth outside. The deck rocked.The coast guard boat left.Through the porthole, Natalie saw the green cliffs of Capri Island and Ischia Island; then, the ship turned around, and the Naples mountains and the rows of mountains on the mountains that were illuminated by the faint sun came into sight directly in front of them. white house.While all of this was happening, Ellen.Jastrow was still asleep.The boat is turning back.She collapsed on the bunk, her face buried in the pillow.The ship she had been dreading now seemed like a passage to lost happiness.The feeling of being hunted came back to her. "My God, what a scene!" said Ellen, sticking his scruffy head out of the bunk.The sun streamed through the portholes, and the crew outside were shouting and cursing lively. The "Savior" was docked at the original pier, and the old policeman in the green uniform and the potbellied patrolled the pier. "Ah, it's broad daylight! You're all dressed. What's the matter? Shall we drive away?" "We've driven past and come back. The Coast Guard stopped us." Jastrow's face darkened. "Oh! Two hundred dollars!" Rabinovitz came to their door.He was freshly shaved and wore dark, stained clothes, a gray shirt, and a red tie.His face was lined with exasperation, and he was pulling out some dollar bills. "I can only return half of it. I'm sorry. He must pay half of it before he will sail. I have to try my luck." "You might need the rest of the money," Natalie said. "Keep it!" "I'll ask for it again if I need it." Jastrow said from the upper bunk, "We didn't discuss paying the fare, you know that, and—" Rabinowitz snapped the money into Natalie's hand. "I'm sorry, I'm going to settle accounts with the damn harbormaster! We're a neutral ship. We're only docked here for emergency repairs. It's a damned illegal act to stop us like this!" They were having their midday tea when Rabinowitz reappeared at their door. "I was in a bad temper this morning, I'm sorry." "Come in," Natalie said kindly. "Would you like tea?" "Thanks, yes. What's up with your doll?" Louis was sipping from his basket. "He's caught a cold. Any news?" Rabinovitz squatted with his back to the door, holding a glass in both hands, sipping tea. "Dr. Jastrow, when we left Rome so abruptly, you seemed displeased at the manuscript you had to leave behind." "I'm not happy yet! Four years of hard work!" "What's the title of your book?" "The Arch of Constantine. What's the matter?" "Do you know anyone from the German embassy in Rome?" "German embassy? Obviously not." "Are you sure?" "I have nothing to do with the German embassy." "You never heard of a fellow named Werner Baker?" "Werner Baker?" Jastrow repeated, probably to himself. "Well, yes, I did know a Werner Baker from years ago. What's the matter with him?" "There's a Werner at the gangway. Dr. Baker. He's one of those two Germans I saw in your hotel room in Rome when Ross and I went looking for you. He drove a Mercedes just now. Yes. He said he was from the German embassy in Rome, an old friend of yours. He also said he had brought your manuscript of the Arch of Constantine." There was a solemn silence, broken only by the snorting of the baby's nose.Natalie and her uncle looked at each other. "Tell me about him," said Jastrow. "Medium build, plump, pale, with thick blond hair, high voice, very polite." "Do you wear glasses?" "Thick rimless glasses." "Probably Werner Baker, though he wasn't fat then." Natalie had to clear her throat before she could speak. "Who is he, Ellen?" "Oh, Werner was in my last graduate class at Yale. One of the good students in Germany, with great energy at work. He had language difficulties and I helped him overcome some obstacles. Since then, I have Never met him, never heard from him." "He said he took the manuscript from your room," Rabinowitz said. "He was there, I can assure you of that. He was quite nice, and the other one was terribly fierce." "How did he find me here?" Jastrow looked at a loss. "That doesn't look very good, does it?" "Well, I can't tell. If we don't admit you're here, the Italian secret police will come and search the ship. The German secret police will do whatever they ask them to do." Natalie interjected tremblingly, "How about the Turkish flag?" "To a certain extent, the Turkish flag is useful." Jastrow said decisively, "There's really no choice, is there? Shall I go to the gangway?" "I'll bring him here." To Natalie, it was somewhat of a comfort that the Palestinian seemed so calm.This happened to her as a further serious and terrible aggravation.She was terrified of her baby from the bottom of her heart.Rabinowitz is gone.Jastrow said thoughtfully, "Werner. Beck! My God! Hitler wasn't even in power when I knew Werner." "Did he support Hitler?" "Oh, no. He was a conservative, mild, studious kind of guy. Very religious, if I remember correctly. Good family. He wanted to be in the Foreign Office, I remember that." The baby sneezed.Natalie was busy cleaning his clogged little nose.She was terrified and unable to think logically. "Professor Jastrow, Werner. Dr. Baker is here." Rabinowitz stepped into the cabin.A man in a gray coat and gray hat bowed at the door, held his hat up, and put his heels together.Under his left arm was a thick yellow envelope bound with string. "You must remember me, Professor Jastrow?" he said in a high, serious voice.He smiled awkwardly, almost apologetically, with his eyes half-closed. "It's been twelve and a half years." "Yes, Werner." Jastrow cautiously held out his hand. "You're just getting fatter." "Yes, too fat. Oh, this is the Arch of Constantine." Jastrow placed the package next to the limping baby on the bunk, and with trembling fingers untied the string, quickly flipping through the mass of thin, translucent paper. "Natalie, it's all here!" He looked at the man standing at the door with sparkling eyes. "Werner, what can I say? Except thank you, thank you!" "It's hard to come by, Professor. But I understand what it means to you." Dr. Baker turned to Rabinowitz. "It was my German Gestapo colleague—you understand—who took it from the Italian Gestapo. I don't think I could get it myself. I'm sorry you quarreled with him, but you Called him some nasty things back, you know." Rabinovitz shrugged, his face blank.Baker looked back at Jastrow, who was fingering his manuscript. "I read your great book on my own, Professor. What a step up from a Jew's Jesus! You show a very special understanding of early Byzantium and Orthodoxy. You bring to life a whole world that has passed away. This book The book will guarantee your fame, and this time, the pedants will praise your learning. It is your greatest achievement." "Hey, how nice of you, Werner." Jastrow put on the same smile he used on admirers. "As for you, your English has improved amazingly. Remember your difficulty with the oral exam?" "Of course I do. You saved my future." "Oh, I dare not take it." "Seven years in Washington since then. My sons — I have four — are bilingual in English and German. Now I'm Second Secretary in Rome. All thanks to you." "Four sons, oh, what a surprise." Natalie found it hard to believe that such a domestic conversation could be made.It was almost like a conversation in a dream.The man was standing there at the cabin door—a Nazi official, a stocky, non-hostile-looking man with glasses that made him look bookish.He held the hat in both hands, and held it to his breast in a peaceful, almost priestly gesture.He spoke of his children, praised Ellen's writings, and was genial; pedantry.The baby is coughing, Werner.Baker looked at him. "Is your boy well, Mrs. Henry?" Her raspy voice blurted out, "How do you know my name? How do you know we're staying at the 'Elegant Hotel'? And how do you find out we're here?" She could see Ellen pained by her behavior.Rabinowitz's face remained expressionless.Beck replied patiently: "Of course, the German Secret Police has a list of foreign passengers in Rome hotels. The Italian Secret Police have reported to the German Secret Police that you have boarded this ship." "Then you are also a member of the German secret police?" "No, Mrs. Henry. As I said, I am an official of the Foreign Office. Well, would you and your uncle care to have lunch with me at the 'Grand Hotel'? It is said to have the best restaurant in Naples." Natalie's mouth was open, she was silent, as if unconscious.She looked at Jastrow and he said, "I'm sure you don't really mean that, Werner." "Why not? You can enjoy some good food and wine. You have a long and arduous voyage tomorrow!" "Tomorrow? I don't know that yet," Rabinovitz exclaimed, "and I've only just come from the Harbor Master!" "Oh, here's my news." Natalie almost yelled, "As soon as we put our feet on the shore, we'll be caught and detained. You know that, and we know that." "I've got police passes for you both." She shook her head furiously at Jastrow.Dr. Baker continued calmly: "I'd better go away so you can talk about it? If you can't decide, let's talk over to the gangway before I go! But come ashore with me." It is quite safe for you, and there is indeed much to discuss." Jastrow cut in sharply, "What are you doing in my hotel room, Werner?" "Professor, when Mussolini declared war, I thought I'd better help you. I took the German secret police to deal with the Italian police authorities." "Then why didn't you come to see me long before that?" Baker gave Natalie a sudden, guilty look; and replied: "May I be frank? This is so as not to bother you, to annoy you." He lifted his hat, bowed, and moved away. Jastrow looked suspiciously from the Palestinian to his niece. "Ellen, I'm not leaving Louis! Not a minute!" Natalie screamed. "I don't even want to go to the gangway!" "What do you think?" Jastrow said to Rabinovitz.Rabinovitz flipped his hands up. "Oh, do you think it's all an elaborate trap to catch me? Now that he's found me, if he's really going to do it, can't he just get the Italian secret police to pull me off your boat? go?" "He can avoid a storm like this!" "How big is the storm?" Rabinowitz smiled wryly. "Not too big." Jastrow pulled his beard and looked at his staring niece.Then he reached for his hat and cloak. "Well, Natalie, I've always been a dazed fool. I'll go with my character. I'm going ashore with Werner... Baker." "Oh, of course!" the baby was crying now, and Natalie was almost mad. "Enjoy your lunch! Maybe his good friend from the German secret police will get together with you and make things more enjoyable." Rabinovitz helped Jastrow put on his cloak. "Inquire all you can about our departure." "Okay. If I don't come back," Jastrow said to Natalie, as she cradled and rocked her wailing baby in his arms, "you've only got rid of a burden, haven't you? " Two hours passed.The torrential rain drove away all those loitering on the deck.Natalie waited alone at the port of the gangway with an umbrella, watching the dripping policeman pace up and down the pier.Finally, a small black Mercedes appeared in the rain.Dr. Baker came out and opened the door for Dr. Jastrow, waved her, and drove off.Jastrow stepped onto the gangplank, spreading his arms from under his blue cloak. "There, dear! Look, I'm back." "Thank God you're back." “是啊D 现在让我们和拉宾诺维茨谈一下。” “你真的不要先打个盹？” “我不困。” 那个巴勒斯坦人穿着油腻的工作服，听到他们的敲门声，打开了舱房门。那间小屋里有强烈的汗、机油和烟灰的气味。杰斯特罗对钉在墙上的那些裸体女人画眨眨眼睛。“请坐，”拉宾诺维茨说。“我得拿掉那些可爱的姑娘了。我对她们并不注意，可是其他人都注意。就是这么回事儿。你回来了，我真高兴。你真有胆量。午餐吃得有趣么？” “还可以。”杰斯特罗在办公桌边的椅上坐得笔挺，娜塔丽坐在他旁边的一个凳子上。“首先，你的土耳其船长出卖了你。他告诉海岸警卫队说你们要偷偷启航。这就是你们为什么被抓住的原因。维尔纳是这么说的。” 拉宾诺维茨点点头，绷着脸。“这我也想到了。我们不能租别的船，所以我们不得不忘记这事——暂时忘记。” “那个土耳其人也报告了我们是上星期上船的。港务长决定通知罗马的意大利秘密警察，并在让你们走之前，解决这个逃亡的美国人问题。因此，耽搁了一星期。” “好哇，所以事情都碰到一块儿啦！”拉宾诺维茨把摆在膝盖上的手握紧了又放开。“我们明天能开走吗？” “懊，他说你们可以开走。还有，关于那件事。”杰斯特罗的声调提高了。“这船以前可叫'伊兹密尔'？” “它就是'伊兹密尔'。” “最近你们检查过这船的适航性吗？” “港口检查员来给我们开了证明，可不是。” “维尔纳说他附添了一页意见。你们超员又超载。甲板上的附加油柜危险地减弱了你们的稳定性能。万一乘客们在惊慌失措中都冲到一边，这船就免不了翻身。对吗？” “他们是一群守纪律的人，”拉宾诺维茨很厌烦地回答。“他们不会惊慌的。” “你们的食物、水和卫生设备都比一般标准低得多，”杰斯特罗接下去说。“当然，娜塔丽和我早已注意到这一点了。医疗设备也差。发动机用了三十五个年头了。航海日志上写有好几处新近发生的故障。你们只有沿海岸行驶的证明，而不是公海上的。” 拉宾诺维茨的声音变得尖利了。“你可提到我们犹太人为了逃避德国人的迫害不得不冒这些危险吗？” “差不多就是这话。他不爱听。可是他说要是把巴勒斯坦委托德国管辖，大多数欧洲的犹太人早就用适合航海的船送去了。你们要用这么一条破船来漂洋过海，应该归咎于同盟国的政策，而不是德国的政策。英国为了争取阿拉伯人，封锁了巴勒斯坦——这真是个愚蠢的姿态，因为阿拉伯人是全心全意地拥护希特勒的。美国已经关上了它的大门，所以你们的组织（他全都了解）必须试图用象'伊兹密尔'这种没人要的破船把难民偷偷送进巴勒斯坦。” “不错，纳粹是热心的犹太复国主义者，”拉宾诺维茨说。“这我们是知道的。” 杰斯特罗由里胸袋里掏出一只信封。“好，这些是意大利警察当局关于美国拘留民的规定。他们正被遣送到锡耶纳去等候交换。正巧，我的家就在锡耶纳。我的班底子还住在那儿。” 拉宾诺维茨看完了那些油印的纸页，他的眼神里显得忧郁面呆滞。 “这些规定可能是伪造的，”娜塔丽嚷了起来。 “这些都是真的。”拉宾诺维茨把纸页交给她。“这么说来，这就安排好了？你们俩要下船到锡耶纳去吗？” “我对维尔纳讲过了，”杰斯特罗答道，“这全要看娜塔丽。假如她跟着你们乘船，我也乘船。假如她选择回锡耶纳，我也回去。” “我懂了，很好。”拉宾诺维茨朝娜塔丽膘了一眼，她脸色苍白，一动不动地坐着，他问道：“贝克博士对这说了些什么呢？” “呢，作为母亲，他说，她无疑会作出明智的决定。冒险航行对她的婴儿来说是毫无意义的，也是受不了的。她并不是无国籍的难民。这就是他要告诉她的。” “你有十二年没见过这人了，埃伦。”娜塔丽才讲了半句，声音就几乎发抖了。她的两只手揉着那几张油印纸。“他要你留在这儿。为什么呢？” “哦，到底是为什么呢？你以为他会谋害我吗？”杰斯特罗说，他显出抖抖嗦嗦的滑稽样子。“他为什么要这样呢？在我研究生班上那会儿我总是给他最高分的。” 拉宾诺维茨说：“他并不要谋害你。” “是呀。我相信他是想帮助他以前的老师。” “上帝在上，”娜塔丽几乎喊起来，“你能不能还表现出一丝一毫有常识的样子来？这人是一个地位很高的纳粹。是什么让你愿意把他讲的全盘接受下来？” “他不是纳粹。”杰斯特罗摆出心平气和的学究态度说。“他是个职业外交官。他把那个党说成是一群粗野的、缺乏教养的机会主义者。他确实称赞希特勒把德国统一了起来，可是他对于战争正在进行的方式十分担忧。犹太人政策把他吓坏了。维尔纳一度学习当牧师，我认为在他身上并没有排犹主义的骨头，不象我们一直打交道的一些美国领事。” 敲了两下门。拉宾诺维茨那个看上去很粗野的助手朝里面瞧了瞧，递给他一个用红蜡封着的信封。拉宾诺维茨看了信，站了起来，脱掉了罩在干净的白衬衫和深色裤子上的工作服。“嗯，好吧。我们以后再谈吧。” “什么事呀？”娜塔丽脱口问道。 “我们可以办离港手续了。我马上要到港务长那儿去拿这船的证件。”