Jacob's Way (6 page)

As Reisa watched, she remembered what he had told her so often.
The tefillin on the forehead reminds Jews that they must love God with all their might. The other is worn on the arm facing the heart, which reminds us that we must love God with all of our heart.

The service itself was rather simple. Jacob began by saying a prayer and was joined by others. “And I, due to your great kindness, will come into your house, and in awe of you I will worship, facing toward your holy temple. How good are your tents, Jacob, your dwellings, Israel!”

Reisa was sitting back with the other women. In a synagogue they would have been in a balcony, but there was no place for that here. So now she listened and repeated the prayer that she had heard so many times: “And I, due to your great kindness, will come into your house, and in awe of you I will worship, facing toward your holy temple. Lord, I love the dwelling of your house and the place where your glory rests, and I will worship and bow and bend my knee before the Lord, my maker. And as for me, may my prayer come to you in an acceptable time; God, in your great countenance, answer me with the truth of your salvation.”

It was unlike any
Shabbat
that any of the Jews gathered below deck in the dim light of the lanterns had ever known. The oldest of the Jewish holy days, the Sabbath was important to all of them. If she had been at home, Reisa would have cleaned the house and draped the table with a clean white cloth before the sun set on Friday. She would have lit two candles, and the meal would have begun when her grandfather recited a blessing called the
kiddush
. They would have taken wine and sung hymns and had special food, always including two loaves of bread called
challah
.

All of these elements were there, for someone had produced a bottle of wine, and each of the worshippers had taken a sip. Some of the hard bread that Reisa had brought served as the food.

There in the dim light Reisa's eyes rested on her grandfather constantly. She had always known he was a man who sought after God with his whole heart, and she felt unworthy, for she did not have that drive.

Sometime during the service Reisa turned to her left, and there in the gloominess lightened by the lantern she saw the huge man named Dov. He was in the shadows, and he was watching her so steadily that her heart missed a beat. She turned quickly away and threw herself into the service, but she could not forget him.

The day after the
Shabbat
service Reisa left her place below deck to get some fresh water. This was doled out in small portions, and it had to be accounted for.

Out on deck, she noted that sundown had come, the sun sinking into the horizon in a blaze of red. She moved along toward the cook shack where the water was kept and doled out by Schultz. Suddenly a pair of arms went around her. She had the impression of a terrible smell and hands were going over her, touching her in a way that no man ever had. A guttural voice coaxed, “Come now, sweet, 'ere's a man for you!”

Reisa opened her mouth to scream, but a hard palm clapped over it, and she felt herself being dragged along the deck. Kicking and trying to scream, she tried to break the hold. The tin pitcher she had brought fell to the floor with a clanging noise, but there was no one to hear.

She saw ahead of her another passageway and knew that it led down to where the sailors slept. They passed a sailor who was coming down the rat lines, and he laughed, saying quietly, “Take her below for some fun, Max—I'll be right there.”

“Now don't be fightin', sweetheart. You're going to love it! You ain't never 'ad a man the likes o' me.”

Reisa's mind was blank with terror. She began to pray frantically, but the only thing she could pray was,
Oh, God! Oh, God!

Suddenly she felt herself released. The abruptness of it caught her unaware, and she fell to the deck. Turning swiftly and coming to her feet, she saw two figures. One was the huge figure of Dov. He had grabbed the sailor by the back of the neck and with a tremendous, brute strength had lifted him up. The sailor kicked and was crying out hoarsely, but Dov simply held him there as easily as Reisa held Boris.

Dov did not speak for a long time, and the sailor began to beg. “Lemme down! You're—breakin' my neck!”

Evidently Dov's hand began to tighten, and he put his other hand on the front of the man's throat. For the first time Reisa heard him speak. “You leave this woman alone or I will tear your head off.”

He spoke in Russian, so the sailor had no idea what he was saying. In any case, he could not answer, for his windpipe was clamped shut. The sailor tugged futilely at Dov's massive hand, but he might as well have been pawing at steel.

Another sailor came up and said urgently, “Come on! Let him go, Dov—you're killing him!”

Suddenly Dov released his grip, and the sailor fell to the deck. He scrambled to his feet, holding his throat. He reached under his coat for a knife, but the other sailor said urgently, “Leave him alone, Max. Come on.”

Reisa watched as the second sailor hauled her attacker off, and then she took a deep breath as relief washed through her. Turning to the big man, she said, “I—thank you.”

Dov did not speak but simply stood watching her. He nodded but said nothing.

“He would have hurt me if you hadn't come.”

“Yes. Very bad man.”

An impulse came to Reisa. She said, “Would you come with me? I want to tell my grandfather what you've done for me.”

Dov's eyes opened, but he did not object.

She put her hand on his arm and said, “Come. He will want to thank you.”

She led the huge man downstairs, leading him directly to where her grandfather was sitting on a wooden case reading a book by the pale yellow light of a lantern.

“Grandfather, this is Dov.”

Jacob rose and studied the huge figure of the man. He listened carefully as Reisa told him what had happened, and then he put out his hand and said, “I am forever grateful to you, my son.”

And then Dov did something that Reisa never forgot. He took the hand of her grandfather, and she saw that it was almost hidden in the huge hands of the giant. He fell to his knees, leaned forward, and kissed the hand of her grandfather. Jacob leaned forward and put his hand on the mat of dark curly hair and prayed a quick prayer for his safety. Finally he asked, “Are you Jewish, my son?”

“No, just Christian man. Russian Orthodox.”

Dov rose, and without another word he left.

“God uses strange people to help us, doesn't he, Reisa?”

Reisa was still not over the shock. She well knew what her fate would have been down in that dark hold, and she put a trembling hand in her grandfather's. “Yes. He doesn't look much like an angel, but he was to me.”

From that moment, Dov became Reisa's protector. There was no more trouble, for his huge, massive form was not far from the young woman wherever she went. The sailor named Max kept far away, and word spread throughout the ship of what had happened. And it was the cook, Schultz, who said, “Well, Reisa, you found yourself a protector, and a mighty good one, I'd say!”

Four

T
he galley was one of the few warm, cozy places aboard the
Jennings
. Reisa loved to visit with Carl Schultz, and he seemed to welcome her. Schultz was ordinarily gruff, running the sailors out of his galley with curses, but something about Reisa's appealing manner seemed to melt his crustiness. He had helped her with Jacob by warming soup on the stove, and several times had allowed her to make tea, which her grandfather had sorely missed.

Now as the ship rose and fell, the warmth of the stove soaked into Reisa, and the air was sweet with the odor of freshly baked bread. She wished that she could share this with Jacob, but he felt too weak to join her in the galley. Beside her sat Petya, also pleased to be included in the company.

“So, you have learned the words I gave you yesterday, yah?”

“Oh, yes, Herr Schultz!” Reisa responded quickly. “Petya and I worked hard on them last night. Go on, Petya, say the words for Herr Schultz.”

Petya was highly pleased to be included in the English lessons, for he knew this would be a skill he must acquire—and the sooner the better. He had very little English, but he was a quick learner, and now he ran over the members of his body reciting precisely: “Ear—eye—throat—mouth—head, haar—”

“It's
hair
, not
haar.”
Schultz was peeling potatoes, and he grunted after Petya's recitation. Dropping a potato in the bucket, he picked up another one saying, “That is
gut
. You are a bright young fellow. Well, Reisa, what would you like to learn today?”

“Oh, whatever Petya would like.”

Petya asked, “Ask him how to say
ben
and
bas
, Reisa.”

Reisa said, “Oh, I know that!
Ben
is
son
. You know, Petya, like
Rabbi Ben Ezra
means ‘the son of Ezra.'
Bas
is
daughter
.”

“What about an unmarried man?” Petya demanded. Reisa asked this of Schultz, who grinned.

“In English is
bachelor
.” Then he said, “You need to know the word
slob
.”

“Slob? What means
slob?
” Reisa asked.

“Someone who ain't got no manners and is rather nasty.” “Oh.” Reisa smiled, her eyes laughing. “We have that word. It is
zhlob
.”

The lesson continued, with the two students pumping Schultz as he peeled potatoes. Finally Petya asked, “Ask him how to say
krassavitseh
in English.” His eyes were fixed on Reisa, and he smiled at her.

Reisa flushed. “How do you say in English a woman who looks good?”

“Ah ha!” Schultz laughed, tossing the last of the potatoes in the bucket. “A beautiful woman.”

“Beautiful woman,” Petya repeated. “Now, I can say ‘beautiful woman' and ‘slob.'”

“Be sure you don't get them two mixed up,” Schultz laughed. “Now, that's all the English for today.” He paused and said, “How's your grandfather, Reisa?”

Reisa's face clouded. “Not well, Herr Schultz. I be glad when we get to America.”

“Not I
be
glad.
I will
be glad,” Schultz corrected.

“Yes.
I will
be glad.” Reisa smiled her thanks.

“Well, let's make him up some soup and some hot tea. Maybe he'll feel better.”

“Oh, thank you, Herr Schultz!”

Petya went over the list of English words that he wrote carefully down in a notebook while the two prepared the light meal for Jacob. He looked up occasionally. Finally he said in Russian, “I think the weather's getting worse.”

“What'd he say?” Schultz said.

“He say wind getting strong. Very bad weather.”

“Well, he's right about that. I don't like the looks of it. I've been at sea twenty years, and I can smell a blow. We've got a bad one comin' on.”

Reisa and Petya went down below, where they found Jacob sitting with his back against the bulkhead. He smiled when he saw them, but his face was drawn. He was very pale and his eyes were dark hollows. “Ah, you have been getting favors from Herr Schultz again.”

“Yes, he's a very nice man. Now, eat this soup while it's hot.”

Jacob took the bowl and began eating. He had little appetite, Reisa could see, but she insisted that he eat it all. He did enjoy his tea, however, and as he sat there drinking it he asked if she had heard how long it would be before they arrived.

“I think maybe another week.” Reisa poured herself a small cup of tea and sipped it while stroking Boris. She had brought him some scraps of meat, and he ate hungrily. She looked over to where the Chapaevs were huddled together. Both Ilya and Ivana had felt the rough usage of the voyage and had little strength. Reisa went over to share some of the tea with the two.

“Oh, you are good,” Ivana said as she drank the tea greedily.

Ilya's face was an unhealthy pallor. “I wish we had never left home,” he moaned.

“Don't be foolish, Ilya. We'll be all right. It's just going to take a little while,” Reisa said.

She had brought enough soup to share with the young children, and each of them got several spoonfuls of it out of the pot. They clung to her, for they had grown very dependent during the long voyage, since their parents were unable to care for them. Now Reisa sat down and told them a story, a fairy tale her grandfather had often told her in her youth. They huddled close to her, and she hugged them tightly as she whispered the story. It did not matter what story she told them, and she often made them up as she went along.

Finally she became uneasy. The ship was falling more deeply into the waves, and along with the rise and the fall, the ship seemed to be rolling.

“I think I'll just go up on deck,
Zaideh
,” she said, “and see what I can find out.”

“Be careful.” Jacob smiled wanly.

“Oh, I will. Don't worry, and try to sleep if you can.”

She made her way down the crowded hold, feeling as always a strong compassion for the passengers. She had known hardship most of her life, but this voyage had been far more difficult than she had dreamed. Her skin felt scratchy, and she wanted to claw at her scalp. Bathing, of course, was impossible on the ship. Fresh water was doled out in meager amounts only for drinking. As Reisa made her way up to the deck, she thought,
If I could just have a bath, I think I would be happier than I've ever been in my whole life!
But she shook off that thought, knowing that there was no point in dreaming of such things.

When she reached the deck, she was somewhat shocked. The waves were smooth, but she could tell that they were
much
larger—huge like rolling hills, and almost as solid. She could feel the roll and the pitch of the
Jennings
as it forged its way through the sea. Looking overhead, she saw that the sails were all full, and the ship was making good headway.

Making her way with difficulty to the bow, Reisa noted that almost all of the passengers were below. She saw, however, at the very tip of the bow a small group she had often seen before. They were listening as one of the men spoke to them. She knew they were a group of Christians, for she had found out this much. She was curious about them, for she understood they were not the Russian Orthodox that she had known in the village where she had grown up.

Reisa did not join them, of course, but listened until finally they started singing a song. She did not know the melody, but they were singing in Russian, so she understood the words. She listened as they sang in a strong cadence:

Jesus lead thou on

ill our rest is done;

And although the way be cheerless
,

We will follow calm and fearless;

Guide us by thy hand

To our father land.

There were many more verses, and they all sang lustily, with happiness on their faces. Reisa saw a calm and a peace that she admired. They were poor people, about twenty in all, half women and some children. For some reason these people fascinated her, and she listened as they sang several more songs.

“They sing pretty well, don't they?”

Startled, Reisa turned to find a tall young man with piercing blue eyes standing beside her. He was one of the officers that she had often seen, but she had never spoken to him. “Yes. They sing very good,” she said, struggling with her English.

“Oh, you speak English! Well, that's unusual.”

“I study very hard for long time. Make many mistakes.”

“You speak very well. My name's Ellis Carpenter. I'm the second officer.”

“I am happy to know you. My name is Reisa Dimitri.”

“First time on a ship like this, Miss Dimitri?”

“Oh, yes. I never away from my village.”

“Well, it's a long way to America.” Carpenter smiled. He began asking her questions and complimented her on her English more than once.

“You'll have an easier time than most,” he said, nodding at the small group. “I've made this trip twice, and we've put people off who couldn't speak a word of English. I don't see how in the world they make it.”

“Are you from America?”

“Oh, yes. From Boston. Do you know it?”

“Boston? No. I do not know him.”

Carpenter smiled. He was an engaging young man. “You mean I do not know it.
Him
is for people.
It
is for things—like countries.”

“I do not know it. Thank you.” Reisa nodded to the group who was singing. “Those peoples—I mean
people
—singing, who are they?”

“I don't know much about them. They're very religious. They're Christians, but I don't know what kind. They're going to start some kind of religious settlement in America.”

Reisa considered this, then suddenly a strong gust of wind caught her. She grabbed the rail to hang on, then looked up at the skies. They were gray now with dirty clouds scudding along. She turned to face the young man. He had very blue eyes, the bluest she had ever seen, and she wondered if all Americans had eyes like his. “It is very bad—the weather,” she said.

“Yes. The glass is falling.”

Reisa grew confused. “The glass? It has fallen?”

Carpenter smiled. “We have an instrument that we call the glass. It tells us when there's going to be bad weather. So when we say ‘the glass is falling,' we simply mean there's a blow coming on.” Reisa hung on to the rail as the ship rose, heeled over, and then rolled to the other direction. “We will not zink?” she asked.

“We never have,” Carpenter replied, “and it's called
sink
, not
zink
.” He looked out at the sea and the sky, and a worried expression swept across his lean young face. “I hope we don't. I'd hate to die. My parents were religious, but I'm not.” He turned to face her fully, and his eyes were troubled. “I'm in no shape to meet God.”

Reisa did not know what to say to this, and finally she said, “I pray that we will not sink—and that you will find God.”

“Thank you, Miss Dimitri. That's a kind thought. You'd better go below. It's going to get worse, and you'll get soaked. I think we'll probably take on some water.”

“Take on some water? What means that?”

“That means when the waves get high enough they'll break across the deck, and they'll go down through those openings. In very bad weather, water will come down below.”

Reisa was alarmed. “Water will come down where we are?”

“Yes. It'll be very uncomfortable.” Carpenter nodded. “But don't worry. It'll drain down below the deck where you are, and the sailors will pump it out.”

“What is ‘pump it out' mean?”

“It means we have a—“ He struggled for the word. “We have a thing that will take the water out of the ship and put it back in the ocean. That way we will not sink as long as the pumps work.”

Reisa nodded, understanding little of this. “I will go see to my grandfather.”

She left Carpenter, who turned and went back toward the stern.

When she reached her grandfather, she sat down beside him. “It is going to be a storm,” she said in English.

Jacob was not as good at the new language as she was and had not picked up much English. “Very bad storm?” he said.

“One of the mens who drive the ship tells me that it will be. He was very nice.” She repeated her conversation, and then said, “He told me he was not ready to meet God.”

“Most people are not,” Jacob said heavily.

“There are Christians on this ship going to America. They are going to make a new village or something like that.”

“So, it is not Jews only who flee for their lives but Christians also,” Jacob mused. “That is strange.” He looked at her, and in the darkness illuminated only by a few lanterns, her face seemed to glow. “Did you talk to any of them?”

“No. But they sang a song.” She repeated as many of the words as she could. “They sang very well,” she said. “They did not seem to be afraid.”

Jacob leaned his head back against the wooden bulkhead and closed his eyes. “No man is so old that he thinks he may live another year,” he said. “People always get religious when danger threatens. Someone said if the devil got sick, he would become religious himself.” He continued to speak softly, and, as always, Reisa listened. His voice was quiet, and he showed no alarm as the ship pitched even more strongly, wallowing so wildly at times that the possessions of the passengers shifted and had to be replaced. “There is no way of knowing the time of one's death, my Reisa. So the secret,” he murmured, “is to be ready at all times.”