Touch the Sky (Young Underground #8) (11 page)

             
Left by himself, Peter gripped the steering stick, trying his best to keep it steady. It was as if they were in a pond, the water was so still around them. After a few more shouts, Peter felt something gently bumping the roof of the plane. Matthias tapped on the window with his heel.

             
“
Kill the engine!
”
he shouted, and Peter obeyed.

             
From then on, Peter could hear everything. Matthias shouting instructions, the grunting of the men above, the complaining squeaks of the airplane as they were lifted into the air like a carnival ride. With Matthias still on top, they slowly twirled higher and higher. There was only a slight jolt as they were gently set down, dripping, in the middle of the ship
’
s rusty deck. Matthias followed with a flying leap, landing on his feet with a grin.

             
“
What did I tell you?
”
boomed Captain Papanikolas from somewhere above.
“
No problem?
”

             
“
You
’
re a regular aircraft carrier,
”
returned Matthias, looking up at the captain and giving him a salute.
“
Good job, Captain. We might have to do this again.
”

             
“
Just so the seas stay as calm as today,
”
said the portly Greek man, coming down a narrow stairway from his steering house in the middle of the ship. The red
-
faced captain was chewing something from behind a week
-
old beard and tried to straighten his crooked black tie with his free hand. He stopped halfway down the stair
-
ladder when he noticed Peter climbing out of the plane.

             
“
Who
’
s this?
”
he asked suspiciously.
“
I thought we don
’
t take cargo before Bremen.
”

             
“
Nothing to worry about, Captain P,
”
boomed Matthias. He stepped between the captain and Peter like a shield.
“
Just a friend of the family from
Helsingør
. He came with me for the ride.
”

             
Captain Papanikolas wasn
’
t convinced. He stood his ground, crossed his arms, and looked around Matthias. Peter noticed that the man
’
s rumpled blue jacket looked as if it had been used as a rag in the ship
’
s engine room.

             
“
Hi,
”
squeaked Peter in Danish, nodding his head. The captain only frowned.

             
“
I
’
m here for two reasons,
”
Matthias said.
“
First, I wanted to check if the crane for hoisting my plane aboard was in order.
”

             
“
Everything in order, see?
”
huffed the captain, gesturing at the red airplane. A couple of the other sailors had wandered up on deck to take a look, and they were inspecting the plane. Peter didn
’
t see the man with the crooked nose, but at least the ship didn
’
t seem as scary in the light of
day.

             
“
And the other thing,
”
continued Matthias, looking around cheerfully,
“
was that I just wanted to check out the ship once more.
”

             
“
You do that back in port, no?
”
Captain Papanikolas made no move to let anyone pass by him.

             
Matthias leaned forward, as if he were telling the man a secret, took off his glasses, and put his hand up to his mouth for effect.
“
No sense taking any chances,
”
he whispered.
“
No one
’
s watching us out here. Know what I mean?
”

             
Finally, a slow grin spread across the captain
’
s face.

             
“
Ah, I see. Secret agent man!
”
He began to laugh, until he had to hold on to his round belly.
“
This is secret agent ship!
”

             
Still laughing, Captain Papanikolas turned and climbed the stair
-
ladder back up to his wheelhouse, pulling a sailor behind him.
“
Secret agent ship! Ha!
”
Peter heard him laughing all the way up the ladder until the men disappeared.

             
Matthias turned to face Peter and polished his glasses with a handkerchief before replacing them carefully on his nose.
“
He
’
s a bit of a character, but his heart is in the right place. Now, do you want to tour the rest of the ship with me?
”

             
Peter swallowed hard, nodded, and looked down at his shoes, already red from the rust on the deck.

             
This isn
’
t just going to be a tour
, he reminded himself.

5

R
ising Seas

             
Matthias led Peter back along the main deck but stopped before a rusty door that had once been painted white.

             
“
Don
’
t look back,
”
Matthias whispered as he gripped the door handle,
“
but was it any of those fellows around the plane?
”

             
Peter shook his head.
“
He was darker, I think. And his mustache
...”

             
“
Right. The mustache. Okay, well, watch your head as we go down.
”

             
Peter followed Matthias through the door, then down a dark hall that smelled of stale motor oil. Below their feet, the slippery metal floor beat and rumbled with a deep throbbing.

             
“
The engine room is down this way,
”
Matthias explained, starting down a ladder.
“
You may have to plug
...”

             
The rest of what he said was lost as they lowered themselves into another world. A dark world of machines that hummed and roared. A world of almost living metal animals, glistening with the sweat of black oil. The engine room.

             
“
Five men usually work down here,
”
Matthias yelled into Peter
’
s ear, pointing at a couple of mechanics in black coveralls. They were watching some ancient
-
looking glass dials, while two others were sweating over something that looked like an octopus with metal arms. One pointed, and the other tugged with a wrench. They were both covered with sweat, and their faces were black with oil smudges.

             
One
, Peter counted to himself, wiping his own sweat from his forehead. It was not a place he would want to stay long.
Two, three
...

             
“
I count three,
”
Peter yelled back at Matthias, who nodded and waved at one of the men who looked up at them. Peter gave another sigh of relief to see it was not the man they were looking for, but he was afraid to take a deep breath of the hot, oily steam that filled the engine cave they were in. They continued down a metal walkway until they ran into two more men dragging what looked like a pump into a corner of a small work area.

             
“
No?
”
Matthias asked quickly, and Peter shook his head once more.
“
I didn
’
t think so.
”

             
Peter followed Matthias up the ladder
-
stairs and took a deep breath of fresh ocean air when they were back on deck.

             
“
Wow!
”
Peter slammed the door behind him.
“
What a pit.
”

             
“
We
’
ll take a look at the crew areas next,
”
Matthias said, hurrying ahead. Peter almost had to trot to keep up, and he put his hand out a couple of times to catch his balance. The floor didn
’
t seem to stay still.

             
Even though Peter had been on the ship once before, nothing seemed the same. Near the crew
’
s quarters, Peter could tell that the old ship had once been a lot nicer, a lot grander. The tables in the dining room were rich red mahogany, but they were chipped and scratched from years of hard use.

             
Only one man was in the dining room, reading a dog
-
eared magazine in a language Peter didn
’
t recognize. The reader didn
’
t look up, but Peter could tell through the dark cloud of cigarette smoke around his head that it wasn
’
t the man they were looking for.

             
“
The crew is from all over the world,
”
explained Matthias, answering the question Peter hadn
’
t asked.
“
That is, mostly Greek, a few Italians. I think the first mate is Norwegian.
”

             
“
How many are there?
”
asked Peter, wondering where the rest of the men were.

             
“
Good question.
”
Matthias led Peter down another passageway. Now Peter was completely
turned around.
“
Let
’
s ask Captain Papanikolas. Up this way.
”

             
Peter peeked into several open doors as they walked down the hall.

             
“
Is this where all your people are going to stay?
”
he asked, and Matthias laughed.

             
“
Peter, we
’
re going to put hundreds of people on this ship.
”

             
Peter stopped for a second to look into one of the small cabins. There was just enough room for a built
-
in bunk bed and a small dresser. A white canvas duffel bag hung in the corner, dirty clothes spilling out.

             
“
But there
’
s not enough room,
”
Peter said.

             
“
They
’
ll stay out on deck, Peter.
”
Matthias laughed again.
“
It
’
s going to be one great camp
-
out. Now let
’
s go see the galley.
”

             
The ship
’
s kitchen was roomier than Peter had expected, with three men in white aprons preparing a meal of something that must have used a lot of potatoes, judging from the piles of peels on the floor. One of the men looked up, smiled, and waved his peeler.

             
“
Good morning, gentlemen,
”
Matthias said. He didn
’
t step in but gave Peter a sideways look.

             
“
Nice place,
”
commented Peter, taking a step backward.

             
“
Okay, one more stop,
”
answered Matthias as he hurried up the nearby ladder. Up above, they could hear the captain barking out a mixture of English and what had to be Greek.

             
“
Coming up, Captain,
”
announced Matthias.

             
“
Karlsson, boss
-
man! Join us!
”

             
Once Matthias was out of the way, Peter looked up to see the almost toothless smile of the big captain looking down at him.

             
“
And your young friend, what does he think of the old
Acropolis
, eh? Oh yes, I forget. Karlsson says the new name is
Alisa
.
”
He shrugged.
“
So we call it
Alisa
for one trip. And who cares, eh?
”

             
Matthias cleared his throat.
“
Uh, Captain, that
’
s
Aliya
. Ali
-
ya
.
”

             
“
Yes, yes,
Alisa, Aliya
. You can call ship after your girlfriend, sure, as long as you pay good money. What
’
s the difference?
”

             
Matthias sighed.

             
“
Nice old lady, this ship, eh, boy?
”
Captain Papanikolas slapped Peter hard on the back, sending him scrambling for balance.

             
“
Great,
”
he gulped, trying to get his breath back.

             
“
This is the bridge, Peter,
”
Matthias said, pulling him gently to the side, out of the way of two men in uniforms only a little less raggedy than the captain
’
s. One man, a lanky beanpole with a fearsomely pockmarked face, gripped the spokes of a giant wooden steering wheel and stared straight ahead without a word. Another, a darker man with a beard, kept a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes and scanned the blue horizon ahead. Three other men were studying a map in the far corner while one was plotting a course with a two
-
pointed compass. No one looked their way. Peter shook his head gently.

             
“
How many in your crew, Captain?
”
Matthias looked curious.

             
The captain stood on his tiptoes to peek over the shoulder of his tall helmsman, the man who steered, before he looked back to his visitors. He counted quietly on his fingers for a moment before answering.

             
“
Five in the engine room,
”
he began.
“
Ten on deck crew, three in the galley, five up here on the bridge. See? I give you the best crew in the Mediterranean. No finer
...”

             
“
Twenty
-
three?
”
asked Matthias.

             
The captain poked his pudgy finger in Matthias
’
s chest.
“
Good arithmetic, secret agent man.
”

             
Peter looked quickly out the row of small windows at the back deck of the ship, where the seaplane was sitting, and did his own counting. He could see eight men out on deck, some sitting on the plane
’
s floats, or pontoons, while others leaned against railings and looked out over the water. With five in the bridge, five in the engine room, the one in the dining room, and three more in the galley, that made twenty
-
two.

             
The captain said twenty
-
three
, thought Peter.
Where
’
s the last man?

             
“
How many out there, Peter?
”
Matthias asked, looking back in the direction of the plane.

             
“
What are you worried about, eh?
”
asked Captain Papanikolas.
“
Same cost to you and your Jewish people with three crew or thirty.
”

             
Matthias nodded politely at the captain.

             
“
I still see only eight out there,
”
Peter reported quietly.
“
That makes twenty
-
two.
”

             
“
Right. Well, Captain, could you have your men help me with my plane once more? I
’
ll need to get it back into the sea so I can take off.
”

             
“
So soon?
”
The captain flashed another one of his toothless smiles.
“
You come back with the woman next time. I can hitch you up good. Then you take her to that promised land of yours?
”

             
“
I
’
m working on it.
”
Matthias shook the captain
’
s hand before backing down the ladder once more in the direction of the galley.
“
I
’
ll meet you in Bremen.
”