Threads and Flames (5 page)

Raisa took out her ticket and looked from the printed words on the paper to the painted words on the various ships and buildings. It was very frustrating.
If I knew how to read better, I could take care of myself, and I wouldn't have to do it this way!
she thought. When she found a match on a sign labeling the side of a long dockside structure, she joined the mass of people jostling one another outside the doors. Inside, a man in a steamship company uniform snapped foreign words at her, but at least she could guess what he wanted when he stuck out his hand for her ticket. She breathed a sigh of relief when he read it, nodded, and pointed her to a line of people moving slowly through yet another door.

By the time Raisa was allowed to climb the gangplank of the waiting ship, she felt as though she'd walked halfway to America, carrying her heavy bag all the way. At every step of the preboarding process she'd been besieged by short-spoken, short-tempered officials with flurries of documents, barrages of questions, and the occasional shove sending her to the next station. A doctor made her take off her kerchief, then interrogated her about the reason for her short hair. He had worked with enough Jewish emigrants to have picked up some practical Yiddish, but he seemed almost disappointed when his thorough, painful examination didn't turn up head lice. While his fine-toothed iron comb bit into her scalp, Raisa clenched her teeth.
My sister went through this,
she told herself.
She could bear it; so can I.

At last she stood on the deck of the great ship, looking down at the docks of Bremerhaven. She crossed to the other side and gazed at the rippling water. It was the first time she'd seen the sea or heard the screams of the swooping gulls. The harbor smelled of salt and oil and garbage in the sun. Shadows cast by clouds streaming from the ship's three black smoke-stacks chased each other across the planking while passengers, porters, and members of the crew hustled by. Raisa set down her bags, leaned her arms on the rail, and murmured as much as she could remember of the blessing for a good journey. Reb Avner had recited it for her not just on the day of her departure, but from the first day of preparations for her leave-taking. After so many repetitions, she'd learned it almost perfectly, and reciting it now was both a prayer and a comfort in her solitude.

Someone tapped Raisa on the shoulder and spoke to her in German, jolting her out of her reverie. She turned to face a crewman with a harried expression on his young face. When she shook her head to let him know she didn't understand, he frowned and started yelling the unknown words at her, pronouncing each one slowly and meticulously.

Raisa's scalp still stung from the medical inspection, and her feet hurt from spending so much time moving through lines that crawled along. She had no patience left for any more nonsense. “
Stop
that!” she shouted back. “I told you, I don't recognize a word you're saying! It doesn't make any difference how loudly or slowly you talk, I . . . don't . . .
understand
!”

Her outburst took the crewman by surprise. He stopped yelling and peered at her as if she'd sprouted a second head. Then his frown deepened and he went right back to shouting at her, underscoring his incomprehensible words with emphatic gestures. He pointed at her, then her bags, then a nearby doorway. She paid him back frown for frown, but before she could say another word, he snatched up her luggage and carried it off through the doorway at a dead run.

“Wait! Come back with that! What do you think you're doing?”

Raisa ran after the young man, calling out first in Polish, then in Yiddish. It made no difference. None of the passengers or crew made any attempt to stop him. As for the young crewman, he ignored Raisa's protests, plunging down one stairway after another until he reached a large, windowless compartment deep in the belly of the ship. The air was warm and stagnant, smelling of sweat and boiled cabbage. Rows of bunks lined the walls. Countless people milled around, talking, laughing, arguing, weeping. Children squealed and shrieked. The whole space throbbed and echoed with voices.

The crewman dropped Raisa's bags on the floor in the middle of this tumult, then began shouting at her in German again. He extended one hand, palm upward, and slapped it briskly with the other. No matter how many ways Raisa tried to tell him that she didn't know what he wanted, he kept on barking at her until she felt ready to howl with frustration.

“He wants to see your papers.” A pretty brown-haired girl seemed to pop up out of nowhere between Raisa and the young crewman. She spoke Yiddish with a slightly different accent than Raisa was used to. “The papers they gave you before you came on board. He wants to see them so he can tell you which bunk you've been assigned.” Her dark eyes shone brilliantly when she smiled.

“Oh! Oh, of course.” While Raisa dug into her bag, the girl spoke rapid-fire German to the crewman, who nodded briefly and marched off. Raisa was confused. “Didn't he want to see these?” she asked, holding out the papers.

“I told him I'd take care of you,” the girl replied breezily. She glanced at the papers. “Raisa, huh?” She shook hands with comic formality. “An honor to meet you, Miss Raisa. I'm Zusa Reshevsky. I hope your bunk's near mine. Hmm. You know what? If it isn't, I'll move. Come on, then.” She picked up the almost-empty food basket and walked away, swinging it.

With Zusa's help, Raisa soon found herself settled in the top berth of one of the double-stacked bunks. The lower bunk was occupied by a skinny, middle-aged woman who gave her a dirty look and declared, “You'd better watch where you put your nasty feet when you go climbing up there, you little brat! I've got my eye on you, and if you so much as touch me, I'll complain to the captain!”

“As if she could ever get within shouting distance of the captain,” Zusa whispered. Raisa giggled.

“
What
is so funny?” the woman demanded.

Raisa stifled her laughter and put on a serious face. “I was just wondering if you might prefer the top bed, ma'am,” she said.

“Don't you
dare
‘ma'am' me! I'm not that old, thank you very much! If your eyes are that bad, you'll be shipped straight back here the moment the American doctors get a look at you, believe me. And I wouldn't have the top bunk if Emperor Franz Joseph himself gave it to me. One wrong turn in the night and I'd tumble out and break my neck. You'd like
that,
I'm sure!”

“Pardon me,
miss,
” Zusa said smoothly. “You'll have to forgive my cousin. She hasn't got any manners, but what can you do? We can't pick our relatives. I'm stuck with her, but I wish there were some way that you wouldn't have to endure her company. Is there any chance you'd trade beds with me? I have a lower berth, too, on the other side of the ship.”

The woman wrinkled her nose. “Why should I go to the trouble of moving my belongings to suit
you
? This bed's no prize, but for all I know, yours is worse.”

Zusa placed one hand on the burlap-covered mattress in Raisa's bunk and pushed down. It crackled loudly and gave off a faint briny smell. “Hmm. Is yours stuffed with seaweed, too, miss, like this one?” she asked. “In that case, never mind trading. I've got one of the few mattresses on board that's stuffed with nice, fresh hay. I'd rather have my dreams haunted by meadows than mackerel!” She gave Raisa a kiss on the cheek and said, “Sorry, cousin, but you're on your own,” before sauntering away.

The woman was out of her berth and had caught Zusa by the arm before she'd taken ten steps. Raisa listened, awestruck, as her new friend not only negotiated an exchange of beds, but got the woman to sweeten the deal with a handful of dried fruit from the supplies she'd brought aboard. It didn't take long to move the woman's luggage to Zusa's old place and bring Zusa's bags back. Soon the two girls were sitting on the lower berth, sharing the dried fruit and laughing together as if they'd been friends for years.

“How did you
do
that?” Raisa asked.

Zusa shrugged. “When my father was still alive—may he rest in peace—he was a horse trader, one of the best. I used to love watching him make deals on market days! What about your family? What was their business?”

Raisa shook her head. “I never knew my father, and I was very young when Mama died. Her friend Glukel took care of my sister Henda and me and taught us how to make clothes, but she never told us how our father made a living. Henda must have known, but I—I never thought to ask her.”

“I wish I had a sister,” Zusa said with a sigh. “It's just Mama and me, and her cousin Selig, the one who brought her over to America. Now it's finally my turn!” She popped a pinch of raisins into her mouth and chewed happily, then jumped up. “Say, now that you know where you're sleeping, we'd better get the rest of your things.”

“What things?” Raisa asked. “I only have one bag and a basket.”

“Well, do you see that grumpy-looking man down at that end of the hold? He's got to give you a meal pail and some utensils or you'll be drinking soup out of your bare hands! Oh, and he'll give you a life preserver, too.”

“A life preserver?” Raisa echoed, eyes wide. “Do you think this ship will sink?”

Again Zusa shrugged. “I hope not, but who knows? Like Mama says, all we can do is pray and prepare. Meanwhile, do what everyone else does with it and use it for a pillow. It's the only one you'll have.”

Raisa nibbled a prune, savoring the sweet taste. “Thank you for everything you did for me, Zusa,” she said. “I'm sorry you had to give up your good mattress for one that smells like seaweed.”

“Seaweed smells like the sea, and I like that,” Zusa replied cheerfully. “Besides, it's just as comfortable as the ones stuffed with hay. In other words, not very. At least now when I turn over in my sleep and all that crackling wakes me up, I'll have someone to talk to!”

 

 

The great ship left Bremerhaven and began the westward voyage to America. Raisa and Zusa went up on deck to watch the departure together.

“How long before we arrive?” Raisa asked.

Zusa made a
who knows?
gesture. “Depends on the ship and the weather. It could take as long as twelve days, though I've heard some people make the crossing in only six. Rough seas can add days.”

“Twelve days sounds like forever,” Raisa said glumly.

“Why expect the worst? For us, probably about nine or ten days, God willing. I'm just glad we're living now, and not back when all they had were sailing ships. We'd be at sea for more than nine or ten
weeks
!”

“You know a lot, Zusa.” Raisa spoke with honest admiration.

“It's nothing.” Her new friend smiled. “I like to listen to people and people like to talk. You learn plenty of interesting stories that way.”

“I'd like to hear them. Nothing interesting ever happens to me.”

Zusa chuckled. “If that's true, be thankful. I don't want an ‘interesting' life. It's one thing to hear about narrow escapes and another to live through them.”

“I think you're right.”

 

 

The voyage went on, and soon the great ship was well on its way across the Atlantic, with nothing to be seen on the horizon but water and sky. For the first time in her life, Raisa had no real work to fill her hours. She was used to having tasks to do. Aside from time spent waiting on lines—when she wanted to wash up, to eat, to use the toilet—the routine of life aboard a ship did little to occupy her.

Thanks heaven for Zusa!
she thought. Her new friend had a knack for finding ways to enjoy their time at sea. When the sea was calm, she made sure they spent every moment possible out on the deck. It got crowded when everyone else from steerage had the same idea, but early on the third day of the voyage, Zusa decreed they'd try to sneak into those parts of the ship reserved for the second-class passengers.

“What's the worst that can happen?” Zusa asked, grabbing Raisa's hand as they crept up a gangway.

“You always say that,” Raisa said with a smile.

“Well, it's never a bad question. What
is
the worst that can happen, I mean
really
happen? Can they whip us? Can they drop us overboard? Can they send us back? Ha! Not likely. It costs the steamship company a
lot
of money for every person who's not allowed to land when we get there.”

“I didn't know that,” Raisa said.

Zusa bobbed her head vigorously. “Oh, it's true! That's why they take such pains to make sure everyone's in good health before they let us on the ship. And it's also why some people who aren't in the best of health try anything to fool the doctors. We don't want to go back and the company doesn't want to take us back, so we're all on the same side.”

Zusa's bold venture didn't get far. She and Raisa were stopped by a member of the crew before they could set one foot onto the second-class deck.

“So, we're all on the same side, are we?” Raisa whispered mischievously as the two of them were herded back down the gangway. Zusa only pursed her lips and frowned.

The long, empty hours gave the girls plenty of time to talk about the lives they were leaving behind and the unknown prospects waiting for them in America. At first, Raisa kept the conversation light, telling Zusa amusing stories from the shtetl. She spoke about Henda only in passing, never mentioning her concerns about her older sister.

Zusa and I have only just met,
she thought.
We're little more than strangers. How can I bother her with my worries?