by Rona Arato
Now Moshe, Shoshi, and Snigger worked together. Moshe tossed matzo balls in the air, and Snigger blasted them with his red-hot breath. Shoshi used her mother’s rolling pin to bat the matzo balls at the man’s head. The two men struggled to their feet and raced for the door.
“This place is cursed,” cried the first Cossack.
“Let’s get out of here,” said the other.
With Snigger breathing fire at their heels, they ran into the street, jumped on their horses, and galloped out of town.
The commotion had attracted the other villagers, who poked their noses through the Kapustins’ open door. The rabbi entered the house, and the villagers crammed in behind him.
“You have saved us,” said the rabbi, peering over his glasses.
“Mama’s matzo balls saved us,” said Shoshi.
“Snigger saved us,” said Moshe. He lifted the trembling animal and stroked its head. Snigger blew out a puff of sparks.
The crowd parted, and their aunt rushed through. “Ruth, Shoshanna, Moshe! Are you hurt?”
Shoshi was squashed against her aunt’s chest. “No, Aunt Rachel.”
“Blug, glug, blah,” said Moshe, as he, too, wriggled out of his aunt’s grasp.
“How can you stand there, when your children were attacked?” Aunt Rachel said to Mrs. Kapustin.
“You want me to sit on the floor?” Mrs. Kapustin said.
“What is that thing?” Aunt Rachel demanded, as Snigger slithered across her feet.
“I’ll tell you what it is. It’s a dybbuk,” the rabbi’s wife announced. “May it leave our village in peace and haunt our enemies.”
“Dybbuks are an old wives’ tale. Educated people do not believe in such things,” said Feivel.
“I did not go to university,” said the rabbi’s wife, “but I know a dybbuk when I see one.”
“Well, whatever that thing is, it almost got us all killed,” said the butcher. “I will take care of it.” He waved his meat cleaver in the air.
“No!” said Shoshi. “Snigger is not evil. He saved us from a pogrom.”
“That dybbuk brought the soldiers to our town in the first place. I say kill it!” said the butcher.
The rabbi raised a hand for silence and focused on the children. “Tell me, where did this thing come from?”
“Moshe bought him from a peddler,” said Shoshi.
The rabbi’s wife turned to the crowd and said, “I saw him. A man with burning eyes, like coals. Mark my words – he came from the other world, and this dybbuk he left behind is cursed.”
The baker’s wife wagged a finger in Moshe’s face. “You have brought a plague upon us all.”
“Stop it. Stop it.” Mrs. Kapustin moved between the angry women and her children. “Feivel is right. There is no such thing as a dybbuk. This animal is not cursed.”
“And how would you know,” said the baker’s wife. “You, a woman without a husband? A woman whose husband goes to America and disappears, rather than send for her?”
A babble of voices drowned out her words. The rabbi signaled for silence. “Enough!” he said. The air inside the tiny house was thick with the scent of singed hair, burnt food, and sweat. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. He glowered at the villagers, who had all settled into silence. “Is this how we start the Passover, our holiday of freedom? By tearing each other apart?”
“Mama, Moshe, look!” Shoshi’s voice quivered with excitement. She picked up a small pouch that was lying on the floor by the oven. “The Cossacks dropped this.”
Mrs. Kapustin took the pouch, opened it, and peered inside. “Gold coins. There’s enough for our passage to America.”
The rabbi’s wife leaned forward; her sharp nose sniffed like a dog searching out a bone. “They do not belong to you. They should go to the synagogue.” She snatched the bag of coins from Mrs. Kapustin’s hand.
The baker’s wife shook her head, her chin wobbling like a mound of her husband’s dough. “Those coins belong to all of us,” she said.
“Give them back,” said Shoshi. “They’re ours.”
“They belong to the people of Vrod,” shouted the candlemaker.
“Yes,” the other villagers echoed.
“They belong to the Kapustins,” said Feivel. “So much money….”
“Yes, so much money,” echoed the rabbi’s wife, who held the sack in the air. Her husband took the coins from her. Everyone stopped talking and listened to him.
“Mrs. Kapustin,” he said, stroking his beard. “You and your children wish to go to America?”
“Of course. We want to go to America to be with my husband in New York.” She shot a venomous look at the baker’s wife.
“Your bravery has defeated the Cossacks and saved us from a pogrom. So, by rights, this money should be yours.”
A babble of protest erupted from the crowd.
“That’s not fair!” whined the baker’s wife.
The rabbi’s wife started to speak, but her husband silenced her with a look.
“They may have saved us, Rabbi, but who knows what they have unleashed on our town,” said the butcher.
As if on cue, Snigger breathed out a cloud of fiery sparks.
Everyone began shouting. The rabbi handed Mrs. Kapustin the pouch. “Use this money to take your family to America.” Then to the villagers he said, “The sun is leaving the sky. Go home to your tables. It is time to begin our Passover seders. Mrs. Kapustin, you and your family should go to America in peace. And,” he added, casting a doleful eye at Snigger, “take that monster with you.”
CHAPTER 4
By Ship to America
It took two weeks for the Kapustins to travel by train from Vrod to Hamburg, Germany, where they were to board a ship to America. The trip from Vrod had been exhausting. They had sat cramped together on hard wooden benches as the train rumbled through Russia, Poland, and Germany. They breathed air sooty with coal dust from the engine, and the pot bellied stove that heated the passenger car added more soot. The stove’s embers mixed with sparks from Snigger’s breath, so no one suspected that they were hiding him.
Most of the time, Snigger slept in a basket tucked under a blanket. Whenever he woke up, the kids fed him pieces of bread, dried salami, and boiled potatoes that their mother had packed for the journey. They changed trains several times, and during each stop, the family got off and stretched their legs. When they could get away from the other passengers, Shoshi and Moshe took Snigger out of the basket so that he could stretch too.
At last, the Kapustins were in Germany, waiting to board the ship to America. Shoshi was so excited, she could barely stand still. She had never seen a ship before. Occasionally, small boats floated through Vrod on their way downriver, but they were little more than flats of logs tied together. Not like the rusted hulk of a steamship looming before her. She saw rows of round windows punched into its sides, smoke stacks belching black ash, and towering masts scraping against gray clouds that blanketed the sky.
“How can the ship float if it’s so big?” asked Shoshi.
“It floats because that’s how it’s built,” Moshe answered. “You’re a girl, so you don’t understand such things.”
“I know as much as you do. What I don’t know is how we are going to stand being cooped up for six weeks.”
“You are lucky. The first time I sailed to America, it took three months,” said a man with a bushy beard and eyebrows to match. He spoke to the children in Yiddish. “There weren’t any steamships in those days. They used sails, and if a storm came up …” He shook his head. “You only shouldn’t know from being so sick.”
“You’ve been to America?” Moshe asked.
“Many times.”
“How many?”
The man held up nine fingers.
“Why do you come back here?”
“To sell. That’s what I do. I go to America to buy, and then I come back to Europe to sell.”
Before they could ask him what
it was he bought and sold, the man pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket. “This is a picture of the Statue of Liberty, the lady with a lamp, in New York Harbor. Keep it, keep it,” he said, when Shoshi handed it back. “You should have this beautiful lady with you, so you will recognize her and know you are in America.”
“I guess we’re lucky that we’re sailing on a steamship. I couldn’t stand being on a ship for three months,” Moshe said. He bent down and lifted a corner of the blanket that covered Snigger’s basket. “Brrrr, it’s cold. We need your fiery breath to warm us, Snigger.”
Snigger snorted, and smoke seeped through the slats.
“What do we have here?” The man peered over Moshe’s shoulder.
“We don’t know what he is, but he saved our lives.”
“Oh, my.” The man took a step back. “I can’t believe you have a dragon. I saw one of these once in China. Oh, my!”
“What is a dragon?” Moshe asked.
“A dangerous fire-breathing creature. Where did you get him?”
“He hatched from an egg,” said Shoshi.
“Well, if I were you, I’d be very careful,” said the man. “I don’t think the captain will take kindly to having a dragon on board his ship,” he said, before disappearing into the crowd.
Shoshi petted Snigger and replaced the blanket.
Their mother returned. “Have you two been up to something?”
“No, Mama.” Shoshi smiled sweetly. “We’re just happy about the trip.”
“Yes,” said Moshe. “We’re excited to go to America.” Their mother’s expression softened. But when she saw the smoke coming from Snigger, she jumped.
“Oy, that animal is smoking again. We should leave him here.”
“Mama!” Shoshi glared at her mother. “Snigger saved our lives.”
“Yes, yes,” their mother sighed.
“Mama,” Moshe asked. “How will we find Papa when we get to America?”
“We will ask Uncle Mendel,” answered Mrs. Kapustin.
“What if Uncle Mendel doesn’t know?”
“Then we will find out for ourselves and tell Uncle Mendel what it is he doesn’t know.”
Waaah ahhhh!! The ship’s horn blasted.
“Come.” Their mother motioned them toward the gang plank. “Think how surprised and happy Uncle Mendel will be to see us.”
But would he be happy to have three strangers and a dragon land on his doorstep? Shoshi and Moshe exchanged worried looks.
On the dock, everyone picked up their parcels, gathered their children, and formed lines, while an officer barked orders through a cone-shaped tube. Moshe held Snigger’s basket, and, together, the Kapustins inched their way toward the gangplank. The first-and second-class passengers had boarded hours before. The Kapustins saw women in their fancy dresses with rows of gleaming buttons and flouncy ruffles and men in dark suits, starched white shirts, and silk top hats. These passengers looked so different from the noisy crowd of men, women, and children in fraying coats and worn shoes who were speaking a dozen different languages as they straggled onto the ship.
“Mama,” Shoshi asked, as they inched forward in the line. “What if Uncle Mendel doesn’t have room for us?”
“We’re family. If he has to, he will stretch the walls,” Mrs. Kapustin said.
Stretch the walls? The man who took her father’s money and never answered their letters? Shoshi doubted he would even open the door.
“Ohhhh, I didn’t know I could feel this awful.” Shoshi held her head in her hands and leaned over the ship’s railing. The water below was choppy.
Moshe checked on Snigger. The dragon was curled up in a tight ball, his tail wrapped around his body. “Look, at his wings, Shoshi. They’re growing fast. Do you think he’ll be able to fly?”
“Fly?” Shoshi thought about this. “He’s so scared of the top bunk that he shivers whenever he’s up there. All he wants to do is eat. Last night, he gobbled a string of sausages from Mrs. Finklestein’s bag. She screamed so loud, I can’t believe you didn’t wake up.” Two red spots flared up on Shoshi’s pale cheeks. “I hate this ship. It’s crowded and hot downstairs in steerage. You can’t see anything with that one dim light, and the slop bucket stinks and keeps overflowing. People are always sick. The woman in the bunk beneath ours said her husband died before his ship reached America. Maybe Papa died too, and they threw him overboard.”
“Don’t be stupid. Of course, Papa got there. He sent us a letter.”
“Stop talking. We only have one hour a day to be on deck. We should use this time for exercise,” Mrs. Kapustin said. Her black skirt swished as her body swayed each time the ship pitched and tossed. “Aaaah, what is that?” Two scaly green feet stuck out from beneath her daughter’s skirt.
“Shoshi, Snigger is out of his basket,” Moshe said.
Shoshi jumped as Snigger darted through her legs in an attempt to run across the deck. “Snig, snig, snigger, snigger.” He exhaled a stream of fire.
“I told you to keep him hidden.” Mrs. Kapustin slapped a spark off her skirt. “We will be thrown off the ship and into the middle of the ocean.”
“I’m sorry, Mama. It’s just that he’s getting too frisky to hide. He’s a baby, and he wants to play.”
“Play, shmay,” said Mrs. Kapustin. “Mrs. Finklestein is telling everyone that a sea monster ate her sausages. Of course, no one believes her, but now they’ll see the monster for themselves.”
“Don’t worry, Snigger, we’ll protect you.” Shoshi bent down and patted the animal’s head. A pink tongue flicked against her cheek. “See, Mama, he’s a pet. Like a kitten.” She set him back in the basket.
“Kittens don’t set things on fire when they sneeze,” Mrs. Kapustin said. “And they don’t grow so fast.” It was true; Snigger was almost too big for the basket.
Mrs. Finklestein stormed on deck. Her round face was purple with anger, and her chest heaved like the ocean waves. “There they are, the thieves, the gonifs who stole my food!”
“We didn’t touch your rotten sausages,” Shoshi said.
“Aiiiiieeee, a dybbuk!” Mrs. Finklestein covered her face with her hands. “I knew it. An evil spirit is haunting the ship.”
“Yes, it is a dybbuk.” Mrs. Kapustin put an arm around the terrified woman and pushed her gently away from Snigger’s basket. “And once a dybbuk steals your food, it gets a taste for it. Next, it will come back for you!”
“You don’t fool me.” Mrs. Finklestein shook a finger in their mother’s face. “I know gonifs when I see them. I hear that the immigration authorities don’t let in thieves.”
Mrs. Kapustin laughed. “If you can get into America, so can we.”
“Ha! A family like you, America doesn’t need.”
“And what does America need?”
Mrs. Finklestein puffed up like a seagull fluffing its feathers. “Solid people like me. I’ve got family in America, who have been there for fifteen years and are waiting for me.”
“I’ll bet they’re holding their breaths,” Moshe muttered.
His mother shot him an angry look. “We have family in America too. My husband’s brother has a restaurant on Hester Street in NewYork.”
Three boys wearing caps pulled low on their foreheads and sporting wicked smiles approached them. “We want to see the monster,” the tallest boy demanded in Yiddish.
“There is no monster,” Moshe said. He pulled the blanket firmly around Snigger’s basket and stood in front of it.
“Mrs. Finklestein says there’s a monster, so show us.” He jabbed a finger at Moshe’s midsection.
“Fight! Fight!” the boy’s friends shouted.
“Put these gonifs out to sea in a lifeboat,” said Mrs. Finklestein.
“No fights, no lifeboats,” said Mrs. Kapustin.
A blast of hot air seared Moshe’s back. “Ouch!”
“Shhh!” Shoshi kicked him.
“FIRE!” screamed an old woman in a red kerchief, who was standin
g behind the boys. “Something is burning!”
“It’s nothing.” Mrs. Kapustin put a hand on Moshe’s forehead. “The child has a fever.”
“People with fever don’t catch on fire. What kind of craziness is this?” said Mrs. Finklestein. “You people are no-goodniks!”
“Call the captain,” screamed the old woman.
“I will call the captain,” said Mrs. Finklestein.
Suddenly, Snigger darted out of the basket. The crowd was so busy arguing that they didn’t even notice him. As Shoshi watched, he flapped his wings, and, for a moment, she thought he was going to fly. Instead, he pulled his wings close and raced up the deck.
Moshe and Shoshi crept away from the crowd to follow him. Legs and tail flying, he disappeared around a corner in a blur of green.
“Where should we look now?” Shoshi asked. They had climbed from one level of the ship to the next without sighting a cinder or a single green scale. There were so many places for him to hide: in storerooms, closets, and long narrow corridors with hundreds of doors. They had reached the upper deck in the area reserved for the first-class passengers. “We’re not allowed up here.”
“Act as if you belong,” said Moshe.
Shoshi looked down at her brown wool dress that was stained and wrinkled from the trip and her cracked leather boots. She sighed. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Let’s go back.”
“Not without Snigger,” said her brother. “You know we have to find him before someone else does.” He slid his finger across his throat.
Shoshi shivered. She thought how lucky they were that it had started to rain. The passengers, who would normally be out enjoying the ocean sunset, had retired to their cabins. The deck was narrow and slippery. She and Moshe stopped at a window and peeked into a large room filled with gleaming wooden tables and ornate, shaded lamps. A group of men played cards and drank golden liquid from balloon-shaped glasses. No sign of Snigger. They moved further along the deck and looked into another room. Ladies in silk dresses sipped from tiny teacups and talked softly. Each wore a plumed hat. Their heads tilted together like a flock of birds.
