Read Online War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk - Free Book Online

gusts were driving swells in past the mole, but despite the wind, happily babbling passengers thronged the unsteady deck watching the preparations. When they went below to eat, the wind was working up to a near-gale under a glittering half-moon.
    In a purple crepe dress, her face touched with rouge and lipstick, Natalie stood hesitating on the wobbly deck outside Rabinovitz’s cabin door. Close-wrapped around her shoulders was Aaron’s gray shawl. She sighed, and knocked.
    “Well, hello there, Mrs. Henry.”
    On the grimy bulkheads in place of the pinups were pallid yellow rectangles. Otherwise the rank disorder was as before: unmade bunk, piled papers, swirling tobacco smoke, workman’s smells from clothes dangling on hooks. He said as he closed the door, “Isn’t that Sarah Elowsky’s dress?”
    “I bought it from her.” Natalie steadied herself against the doorway. “That everlasting brown wool dress of mine I’ve come to loathe, truly loathe.”
    “Sarah would wear that when we talked to the authorities at Nice. She has a way with Frenchmen.”
    “I hardly know her. I know so little about all you people!”
    “How’s your baby?”
    “Cranky. He keeps pawing at his right ear, and he’s feverish.”
    “You’ve had him to the infirmary?”
    “Yes. They gave me pills for him.”
    “Well? And are you coming with us?”
    “I’m trying to make up my mind.”
    “That shouldn’t be hard.” He offered her his desk chair, and squatted on the iron deck. “Decide what’s best for yourself, and do it.”
    “Why did you ever bring us aboard, anyway? You only created trouble for yourself.”
    “Impulse, Mrs. Henry.” He drew hard on a cigarette. “When we sailed from Nice we had no plan to stop here. The generator burned out. I had to get an armature and some more money in Rome. I contacted Herb Rose. He told me your uncle was there. I’m an admirer of his. So —”
    “Are your passengers all from Nice?”
    “No. None of them. They’re Zionist pioneers, refugees now, mostly Polish and Hungarian. They’d have left from Constanta on the Black Sea — that’s the usual route — but their Rumanian fixer ran off with their money. They got shunted around by the Jewish agencies for months, and ended up in Italian-occupied France. It’s not a bad place for Jews, but they wanted to go on to Palestine, no matter what. That’s what I do, get Jews to Palestine. So, that’s the story.”
    “Are you going straight to Palestine, or via Turkey? I’ve heard both rumors.”
    “I’m not sure. I’ll receive radio signals at sea about that.”
    “If it’s via Turkey, you’ll have to take your people through the Syrian mountains illegally, won’t you? Hostile Arab country?”
    “I’ve done that before. If we can go straight home, of course we will.”
    “Are your engines going to break down at sea?”
    “No. I’m a marine engineer. The ship is old, but it’s French. The French build good ships.”
    “What about the overcrowding? Those stacks of bunks down below — those long open latrine troughs! Suppose another three-day storm comes along? Won’t you have an outbreak of disease?”
    “Mrs. Henry, these people are trained for rough conditions.”
    “Hasn’t it occurred to you” — she twisted the shawl in her hands — “that you may not sail? That the clearance could just be a trick to lure my uncle quietly away? It’s quite a coincidence that you got your papers right after Werner Beck showed up.” Rabinovitz made a skeptical face. She went on quickly. “Now I’ve thought of something. If we do leave the
Redeemer
— I’m not saying we will — but if we do, Aaron could insist on going straight to the Turkish consulate. There we’d wait for a signal from you, relayed through the coast guard, that you’re past the three-mile limit. If no signal comes, we’d claim Turkish sanctuary, and — what are you smiling at?”
    “There’s no Turkish consulate here.”
    “You said there