“All I know is your first name. What do I tell your friend?” Jakob asked.
“Just say ‘Saul from Krakow’—that’s enough.”
Saul and his men provided a generous amount of food, water, and extra blankets to make the dark journey in the large wooden crate more manageable. Fortified with rest and these new supplies, Clara, Shmuel, and the children climbed back into the crate, and Jakob and Pincus drew the lid over them.
CHAPTER 60
BERLIN
Pincus opened the map and consulted it. “It’s here—number eighteen Schiffbauerdamm. It faces the Spree River.”
“We can’t pull up to the front of an apartment building in the middle of Berlin pulling this,” Jakob said, pointing to the wagon behind him. “Let’s find a safe place for the wagon and the horses. Is there a park nearby?”
“Here,” Pincus said, “it’s close by.” He leaned over indicating a place on the map.
The cold January early morning had few people roaming the Berlin streets. The horses made their way slowly, attracting little attention. As they waited for some military vehicles to pass, Pincus grabbed a day-old newspaper out of a trashcan. The front page told of tremendous food shortages and indicated that Berlin would be the first city in Germany to ration bread.
“It says that residents should expect long lines for the basics like bread, meat, potatoes, and milk,” he told Jakob.
The park proved to be a good place to wait. The whirling, bitter winds kept the usual morning walkers home, and piles of snow provided decent cover. They removed the lid to the crate. Clara, Shmuel, and the children took the opportunity to relieve themselves in the nearby thick brush.
“I’ll go find this man,” Jakob said. “Shmuel, you come with me. Pincus will stay here.”
They walked along the river, now choked by large glacial blocks of ice. The buildings along the Schiffbauerdamm looked dark and dreary. Minutes later they found 18 Schiffbauerdamm and entered the protected vestibule area. Jakob scanned the names of its residents posted on the wall.
“Here he is,” Jakob said, pressing the bell next to the name of Isaac Kerr.
“Do you think he’ll let us up?” asked Shmuel.
“We’ll see.”
Ten minutes passed and nothing.
“Ring it again,” said Shmuel.
Just as Jakob reached to press the bell, a man appeared in the lobby looking out at them through the glass door.
“What do you want?” the man demanded.
“Are you Isaac Kerr?” asked Jakob.
“Who wants to know?”
“We’ve been sent by Saul from Krakow,” replied Jakob.
The door opened and the man said, “Follow me quickly, don’t speak.”
A few hours later, as they prepared to get on their way, Jakob told Clara and Pincus about the conversation he and Shmuel had had with the writer Isaac Kerr.
“He’s an interesting man,” he told them. “He writes books and articles on Jewish oppression in Europe. He says that we are very smart to be going to America. Life for Jews will be getting much worse.”
“That’s interesting,” Pincus interrupted. “But what about getting us out of the country?”
“He gave me the name of a ship’s captain in Hamburg from whom we can buy passage to Arendal. It’s going to cost us plenty. He told me that the Hamburg Shipyard has become a port for the German Navy and their new U-boat submarines, a very effective weapon. They’ve been destroying British Navy ships in the North Sea. Even if we can get passage on a steamship with a Danish flag, we won’t know for sure that we’ll be safe, even though Denmark is a neutral country. The U-boats have been attacking, regardless of the ship’s flag, and many ships have been flying false flags.”
“That’s it then,” Pincus said. “And let’s pray to Hashem that this will be my last time in Hamburg.”
CHAPTER 61
HAMBURG SHIPYARDS
As their horses and wagon approached the shipyards, Pincus barely recognized the place where he had stood over four years ago before his voyage to America. The government had transformed the home of the Hamburg-Amerika Line and other transatlantic shipping companies into the base of the German Naval Fleet. Hundreds of men worked on large steel frames, pulling on giant chains, elevating elongated oval metallic gray shapes of new U-boats being prepared to launch into battle. Naval officers in white uniforms directed the men about the shipyard.
Pincus did remember the boat slip that had been home to the SS Amerika. In its place now stood the new SMS Kronprinz, its tremendous array of guns reaching out twenty feet beyond its stern.
Saul had told them to move quickly through the Hamburg Shipyards and find Captain Walter Schwieger.
“He is a former captain on the SMS Oldenburg. His ship was decommissioned before the war, and they forced him into retirement. His life’s ambition was to lead a battleship into war, and now he’s being sidelined during one of history’s greatest conflicts. He transports passengers illegally as a way to thumb his nose at the German government. You fit his passenger profile perfectly. He’ll be happy to take you to Arendal if you pay him what he asks.”
“This is it,” Pincus said as they stopped in front of a dilapidated, weather-beaten, wood-clad building.
The sign out front simply read
CAPTAIN WALTER SCHWIEGER
I guess his name is all you need to know, Pincus thought.
Jakob said, “I’ll go buy our passage. Why don’t you check on everyone?”
Pincus opened the lid.
“We have to get out of here now, Pincus. I can’t stand another minute in this box,” Clara insisted.
“Okay, Clara, we’re here. Jakob is inside arranging our passage right now.” Without waiting for Jakob, Clara, Shmuel, and the children climbed out of the cramped and smelly wooden crate they had lived in for the past ten days.
Moshe pointed to the SMS Kronprinz and asked, “Are we going on that?”
“No, my boat is a little smaller.”
Moshe and everyone else turned toward the man with the gruff and gravelly voice.
“My boat is over there, the Oldenburg II,” he said, pointing to a section of the shipyard with small boats bobbing in individual slips.
“This is Captain Schwieger,” said Jakob. “He has agreed to take us to the Norwegian America Line in Arendal. We need to gather our things quickly and follow him. We are leaving now.”
“Now?” asked Clara. “Can we get a few minutes for the children to relieve themselves?”
The captain turned around, showing his deep wrinkled, weathered face with faded translucent eyes. He sneered at Clara and said, “We leave now or never.”
“They are closing down all nonmilitary activity at midnight. The captain is right. We must leave right now, or we we’ll be stuck here,” Jakob said, gesturing to the scene around him.
The ship moved swiftly through the Elbe River and then into the choppy waters of the North Sea. The captain permitted Jakob and Moshe to join him on the bridge. The grumpy captain took a liking to Moshe’s curiosity and allowed him to take the wheel.
“Hold tight, Moshe, these waters are unforgiving. That’s it,” he encouraged. “You’d make an excellent seaman,” the captain bellowed.
He asked Moshe, “Do you know why I named my boat the Oldenburg II?”
Moshe shook his head, impatient for an answer.
“I named her after my last assignment as the captain on the Oldenburg, the Germans’ greatest battleship,” he said with pride. “Before some dummkopf decided to decommission her and retire me after thirty years of devoted service to the Prussian Empire.”
Nearly ten hours later, they entered the channel leading to the shipyards at Arendal. With the arc of the sun scarcely traversing the horizon at this time of year, night barely turned to day. But there was enough light reflecting off the steel facades of the ships bouncing in the choppy waters to make out the harbor as they approached.
The captain pulled int
o a slip not too far from the Norwegian America Line and asked Moshe to assist with the docking. As they disembarked, the captain walked over to Pincus and asked, “Moshe is your son?”
“He is, Captain,”
Pincus said. “I never had any children. You know, the life at sea leaves no time for a family. But your boy Moshe is special. I don’t know what it is, but he has a very calming effect on me, and I am not a calm person. It reminds me of a time when I was a child. It’s hard to describe.”
The captain crouched down to shake Moshe’s hand. He took off his hat and placed it on Moshe’s head. Moshe touched it and asked, “Is this for me?”
“It is indeed. You are now Captain Moshe.”
Moshe thanked the captain, who embraced him warmly. He ran to his parents, clutching the hat.
“Look, Papa, what the captain gave me. He says it was his hat from the real SMS Oldenburg.”
“That’s quite a gift, Moshe,” Pincus said, looking at Clara.
CHAPTER 62
THE BERGENSFJORD
Jakob found the Norwegian America Line ticket office hidden behind large crates waiting to be loaded onto a cargo ship. “It’s here,” he yelled over the noise and activity of the busy shipyard.
Pincus responded with a wave and led Clara, Shmuel, and the children over to him. Each one carrying a small valise, they hardly looked like passengers about to purchase two first-class cabins for passage to America.
The ticket agent looked at Pincus, Jakob, and their entourage standing behind them, and shrugged. Jakob paid him $200 in US currency, and they had their passage to America.
As they gathered their meager belongings, Pincus said to the children, “I’ll tell you about my first voyage to America and how Jakob and I met after we get ourselves settled.”
As they walked from the ticket office to the first-class boarding area, Pincus watched the steerage passengers standing in long lines, huddled in groups in order to stay warm. The ramp for first-class offered a covered gangplank that quickly ushered the passengers on board and into their cabins.
Jakob presented their tickets to the officer who scornfully looked them over. Their clothing and luggage suggested steerage, not first class. Jakob smiled at the officer who returned the greeting with a smirk and instructed a young crewman to take their luggage.
“Is this all you have?” asked the crewman.
“We travel light,” replied Jakob as they handed over their luggage that consisted of several old valises, some of them tied up with twine to keep them from popping open.
The valises were loaded on a dolly and pushed up the ramp as the Potaszniks, Jakob, and Shmuel followed closely behind.
The two cabins were situated directly across from each other with the center hallway running in between. They gathered around as Clara announced that Jennie, Anna, Hymie, and Moshe would stay with her in one cabin and Pincus, Jakob and Shmuel in the other.
“Please, Mama, may I stay with Papa in his cabin?” Moshe pleaded.
“If it is all right with your father,” said Clara.
“Of course. He is a man now,” Pincus said, pulling Moshe close.
They unpacked their few belongings into the elaborate wood-carved drawers and cabinets, taking up only a fraction of the space allotted for first-class passengers. Pincus watched Jakob slip on his dinner jacket and realized that Clara would not have anything appropriate for the first-class dining hall.
“Do you suppose the ship has a clothing store on board?” Pincus asked Jakob.
“I believe they do, and I know what you’re thinking.”
As Clara held on to his arm, Pincus led them into the dining hall.
He leaned over and whispered, “You look beautiful.”
She thanked him, and he looked past her at their children.
Each wore new clothes that Pincus had purchased at the ship’s store. Jennie looked like a grown woman, in a beautiful blue dress.
Anna looked adorable in a plaid one-piece that was probably meant for a boy. But she didn’t seem to notice or care. Hymie wore something similar in a solid green fabric. The men, including Moshe, all looked handsome in dinner jackets, white shirts, and pressed pants.
When Pincus had come to Clara’s cabin to present her with her dress, she had gasped. “I’ve never owned a formal gown like this before, except for one my mother made me when I was a little girl.”
As she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her cabin, Pincus by her side, he admired how beautiful it looked on her. A soft flowing fabric casually sculpted her curves. The light salmon color went well with her complexion and her auburn hair, which she had pinned up into a bun. A short lace jacket in a similar color layered over her shoulders, covered her neck, and ended just below her elbow, leaving her forearms bare. To top it off, a celadon-green ribbon was wrapped around her waist, tied off with a bow along her hip, and draped down to a few inches from the floor.
“I don’t even want to know the cost of this extravagance,” she said.
“Good, because I wouldn’t tell you anyway. You’ve been through too many years of suffering not to enjoy this moment,” he said as he kissed her.
CHAPTER 63
JAKOB MEETS THEODOR
The voyage to America took ten days. While Pincus spent time with Clara and the children, Jakob had time to get to know Shmuel. He told Shmuel how he had met Shmuel’s father and brothers in New York and how Mendel was really the man responsible for the success of the Landsman Society.
“Pincus likes you to think otherwise,” he told Shmuel privately. “He may be the president and likes to take all the credit, but your father is the one running the organization.”
He told Shmuel how he and Pincus had built up the cobbler shop into a thriving business, leaving out the illegal activities he’d used the shop for that had brought in the bulk of their profit.
“I wish I could work there,” he said sadly. “But a one-armed cobbler isn’t much good.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find you work that will suit you,” said Jakob.
Leaving Pincus, Clara, and the children in their cabins, Jakob and Shmuel spent their evenings in the men’s smoking lounge. Jakob easily conversed with many of his fellow passengers. He learned that most were traveling on the Bergensfjord as a last chance to cross the Atlantic. The German U-boats were becoming too much of a threat, even for neutral countries like Norway. There were stories of enemy ships falsely flying colors of other nations, and the German Navy had become suspicious of any ship traveling through the North and Baltic Seas.
On one evening, Shmuel excused himself early.
“I’m tired tonight. Would you mind if I go back to the cabin?”
“That’s fine. I probably won’t stay much longer. I’ll see you in the morning.”
With Shmuel gone, Jakob wandered over to where several men hovered, curiously watching a poker game. He approached the table, which was cloaked in cigar smoke, stood next to one of the men, and took a moment to admire his perfectly tailored jacket that ended at his knees. The jacket opened like drapes to reveal a black vest with pinstripes in a matching charcoal shade. The gray trousers featured a dark black pinstripe. Even his stylish gray-black mustache and dark eyes coordinated well with his outfit.
The man looked over at Jakob, slipped his left hand into his vest pocket, and offered his right. “Good evening, sir. My name is Theodor Bergman,” the gentleman said.
Jakob straightened his spine and returned the handshake. “Good evening, Mr. Bergman. I am Jakob Adler.”
“Won’t you join me for a cognac? I’m getting bored watching other men play cards.”
“I would be honored, sir,” Jakob replied.
Several hours and quite a few cognacs later, Jakob and Theodor were trading stories, each of them trying to outdo the another with more and more amazing tales.
Jakob learned that Theodor Bergman was a German businessman with factories that produced various types of firearms.
“Th
e war has been good to me,” he boasted and whispered that he wished it would continue.
Jakob told Theodor about his attempt to smuggle five hundred guns from America to the Jewish fighters in Krakow.
“That sounds exactly like the prince,” Theodor laughed.
“You know the prince?”
“Of course, I know him. We do business together. Who do you think buys my guns?”
A brief interruption paused the conversation as Theodor greeted a few friends who approached the table. Jakob was introduced to other wealthy industrialists in such booming businesses as railroads, steel, and shipbuilding.
Soon they were alone again. Theodor gave Jakob a pensive look and said, “Tell me, who sent you to Galicia with these American guns?”
Jakob hesitated at first, but then realized Bergman would make a good ally and might help him with Gorpatsch, who certainly wouldn’t be pleased that they’d been conned and lost his rifles.
“Do you know Leo Gorpatsch?” Jakob began carefully.
“You’re involved with that thief?”
“Involved? I wouldn’t say that, exactly. Let me just say our paths have crossed a few times,” he said. “Anyway, how do you know Mr. Gorpatsch?”
“We’ve done business together over the years. He used to spend time in Berlin before the war. I sold him guns.” He paused and then went on, “He’s a thug. So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when he hijacked one of my shipments and stole ten thousand dollars worth of goods.”
Jakob listened without interrupting.
“I’ve been looking for a way to take my revenge on Leo. Perhaps now I’ve found it.” He leaned back, took a long drag on his cigar, tilted back his head, and exhaled a stream of smoke that exploded into patterns as it hit the wood-paneled ceiling.
CHAPTER 64
A Cobbler's Tale Page 21
