playground at night he had taught his trainees nearly everything that could be taught without actual arms. Broomsticks were rifles, rocks were grenades, bedsprings were bayonets. He set up courses in hand-to-hand fighting and stick fighting. Mostly he instilled tremendous spirit into the spiritless refugees.
The hour grew very late. Mandria began pacing nervously. “All I know,” he said, “I gave him a taxi and a driver this afternoon.”
“Relax, Mr. Mandria,” David said. “Ari may not be back for three days. He has strange ways of working. We are used to it.”
Midnight passed and the four men began to sprawl out and make themselves comfortable. In a half hour they began to doze, and in an hour they were all asleep.
At five o’clock in the morning Ari Ben Canaan entered the room. His eyes were bleary from a night of traveling around the island. He had slept only in brief naps since he had landed on Cyprus. He and Zev Gilboa hugged each other in the traditional Palmach manner, then he set right to work without offering excuse or apology for being eight hours late.
“Mr. Mandria. Have you got us our boat yet?”
Mandria was aghast. He slapped his forehead in amazement. “Mr. Ben Canaan! You landed on Cyprus less than thirty hours ago and asked me for a boat. I am not a shipbuilder, sir. My company, Cyprus-Mediterranean Shipping, has offices in Famagusta, Larnaca, Kyrenia, Limassol, and Paphos. There are no other ports in Cyprus. All my offices are looking for a boat for you. If there is a boat on Cyprus you will know it, sir.”
Ari ignored Mandria’s sarcasm and turned to the others.
“Zev, I suppose David has told you what we’re going to do.”
The Galilee farmer nodded.
“From now on you three boys are working for me. Find replacements for your jobs at Caraolos. Joab, how many healthy children are there in that compound between the ages of ten and seventeen?”
“Oh ... probably around six or seven hundred.”
“Zev. Pick out three hundred of the strongest. Get them in the peak of physical condition.”
Zev nodded.
Ari arose. “It will be light in another half hour. I’ll need a taxi to start out again, Mr. Mandria. I think that man I had yesterday is a little tired.”
“I will drive you around, myself,” Mandria said.
“Good. We’ll leave just as soon as it turns light. Excuse me. I want to look over some papers in my room.”
He left as suddenly as he had entered. Everyone began talking at once.
“Then the escape is going to be made by three hundred children,” Zev said.
“It certainly appears so,” Mandria said. “He is such a strange man. He expects miracles ... he doesn’t tell anything.”
“On the contrary,” David said, “he does not believe in miracles. That is why he works so hard. It seems to me that there is more to this than Ari is telling us. I have a feeling that the escape of three hundred children is only part of what is in his mind.”
Joab Yarkoni smiled. “We all have known Ari Ben Canaan long enough not to try to second guess him. We also have known him long enough to know that he knows his business. We will learn, in due time, just what Ari is up to.”
The next day Mandria drove Ari around Cyprus in what seemed to be an aimless chase. They drove from the sweeping Eastern Bay past Salamis and Famagusta clear to Cape Greco. In Famagusta he walked along the old wall and studied the harbor area. Ari barely spoke to Mandria the entire day, except to ask a pertinent question now and then. It seemed to the Cypriot that the big Palestinian was the coldest human being he had ever met. He felt a certain hostility, but he could not help admiring Ari for his absolute concentration and seemingly superhuman stamina. He must, Mandria thought, be a tremendously dedicated man—but that was puzzling because Ben Canaan seemed to show no traces of human emotion.
From Cape Greco they drove along the Southern Bay on the underbelly of Cyprus and then into the high
The hour grew very late. Mandria began pacing nervously. “All I know,” he said, “I gave him a taxi and a driver this afternoon.”
“Relax, Mr. Mandria,” David said. “Ari may not be back for three days. He has strange ways of working. We are used to it.”
Midnight passed and the four men began to sprawl out and make themselves comfortable. In a half hour they began to doze, and in an hour they were all asleep.
At five o’clock in the morning Ari Ben Canaan entered the room. His eyes were bleary from a night of traveling around the island. He had slept only in brief naps since he had landed on Cyprus. He and Zev Gilboa hugged each other in the traditional Palmach manner, then he set right to work without offering excuse or apology for being eight hours late.
“Mr. Mandria. Have you got us our boat yet?”
Mandria was aghast. He slapped his forehead in amazement. “Mr. Ben Canaan! You landed on Cyprus less than thirty hours ago and asked me for a boat. I am not a shipbuilder, sir. My company, Cyprus-Mediterranean Shipping, has offices in Famagusta, Larnaca, Kyrenia, Limassol, and Paphos. There are no other ports in Cyprus. All my offices are looking for a boat for you. If there is a boat on Cyprus you will know it, sir.”
Ari ignored Mandria’s sarcasm and turned to the others.
“Zev, I suppose David has told you what we’re going to do.”
The Galilee farmer nodded.
“From now on you three boys are working for me. Find replacements for your jobs at Caraolos. Joab, how many healthy children are there in that compound between the ages of ten and seventeen?”
“Oh ... probably around six or seven hundred.”
“Zev. Pick out three hundred of the strongest. Get them in the peak of physical condition.”
Zev nodded.
Ari arose. “It will be light in another half hour. I’ll need a taxi to start out again, Mr. Mandria. I think that man I had yesterday is a little tired.”
“I will drive you around, myself,” Mandria said.
“Good. We’ll leave just as soon as it turns light. Excuse me. I want to look over some papers in my room.”
He left as suddenly as he had entered. Everyone began talking at once.
“Then the escape is going to be made by three hundred children,” Zev said.
“It certainly appears so,” Mandria said. “He is such a strange man. He expects miracles ... he doesn’t tell anything.”
“On the contrary,” David said, “he does not believe in miracles. That is why he works so hard. It seems to me that there is more to this than Ari is telling us. I have a feeling that the escape of three hundred children is only part of what is in his mind.”
Joab Yarkoni smiled. “We all have known Ari Ben Canaan long enough not to try to second guess him. We also have known him long enough to know that he knows his business. We will learn, in due time, just what Ari is up to.”
The next day Mandria drove Ari around Cyprus in what seemed to be an aimless chase. They drove from the sweeping Eastern Bay past Salamis and Famagusta clear to Cape Greco. In Famagusta he walked along the old wall and studied the harbor area. Ari barely spoke to Mandria the entire day, except to ask a pertinent question now and then. It seemed to the Cypriot that the big Palestinian was the coldest human being he had ever met. He felt a certain hostility, but he could not help admiring Ari for his absolute concentration and seemingly superhuman stamina. He must, Mandria thought, be a tremendously dedicated man—but that was puzzling because Ben Canaan seemed to show no traces of human emotion.
From Cape Greco they drove along the Southern Bay on the underbelly of Cyprus and then into the high
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