by Franz Kafka
“It hasn’t done me any harm,” said Karl.
“It hasn’t done him any harm!” repeated the senator, laughing loudly.
“The only thing is my suitcase, which I…” and with that he remembered everything that had taken place before and that remained to be done, looked around and saw those present still standing where they’d been before, but silent with respect and amazement, their eyes directed at him. Only in the port officials, inasmuch as their stern, self-satisfied faces gave anything away, could you see regret at having come at such an inopportune time; the watch they had lying on the table was probably more important to them than everything that was happening in this room and indeed anything that could happen.
After the captain, the first to express his happiness for them was, strangely enough, the stoker. He said, “My heartiest congratulations,” and shook Karl’s hand, also wanting to show something like respect. But when he turned to the senator with the same phrase, the senator shifted backwards, as if the stoker were overstepping his rights, and the stoker dropped his hand at once.
The others saw what they were supposed to do and crowded around Karl and the senator. In the confusion, Karl was even offered congratulations by Schubal, which he accepted with thanks. The last to step forward were the two port officials, who said a few words in English, making a ridiculous impression.
The senator was in such a good mood that he wanted to savour every detail, and started to describe the circumstances of how this reunion had come about, something that was of course not only tolerated by the others but listened to with interest. So he told them that he’d copied the list of Karl’s distinguishing features from the cook’s letter into his notebook in case he needed them to hand. Then, during the stoker’s unbearable waffling, he’d pulled out the notebook for no other reason than to distract himself and—just for amusement—tried to match the cook’s not exactly detective-standard description to Karl’s appearance. “And that’s how you end up with a nephew,” he concluded in a tone that made it sound as if he wanted to be congratulated again.
“What’s going to happen to the stoker?” asked Karl, ignoring his uncle’s latest story. In his new position he thought he was entitled to say whatever crossed his mind.
“The stoker will get whatever he deserves,” said the senator, “and whatever the captain considers best. I think we’ve heard just about enough from the stoker, indeed more than enough, something I’m sure these gentlemen will agree with me on.”
“But that’s not the point, it’s a question of justice,” said Karl. He stood between his uncle and the captain, believing, perhaps because he was standing there, that the decision lay in his hands.
But the stoker no longer seemed to hold out any hope. He’d tucked his hands into his belt, which his agitated movements had brought into view along with part of a striped shirt. That didn’t bother him in the least; he’d made his complaint, let them see what rags he wrapped around his body, and then let them carry him off. He thought that the steward and Schubal, the two lowest in rank, should be the ones to give him the final send-off. Then Schubal would be left in peace and not driven to the brink of desperation, as the chief purser had put it. The captain would be able to hire a bunch of Romanians, everyone on board would speak Romanian and then maybe everything would indeed be better. No stoker would shoot his mouth off in the cash office and only his last tirade would be remembered, with a certain fondness, because, as the senator had said, it had prompted him to recognize his nephew. Moreover, that nephew had tried to help him several times already and so provided more than enough thanks in advance for the good turn the stoker had done him in having him recognized; it didn’t occur to the stoker to now demand anything more. And anyway, he might be the nephew of a senator, but he was still a long way short of being a captain, and it was from the captain’s mouth that the bad news would come. — So the stoker tried not to look at Karl, but unfortunately in this room full of enemies there was no other resting place for his eyes.
“Don’t misunderstand the situation,” said the senator to Karl. “It may well be a question of justice, but it’s also one of discipline. Both of those things, especially the latter, are for the captain to decide.”
“That’s right,” mumbled the stoker. Those who heard and understood smiled disconcertedly.
“Besides, we’ve already kept the captain from his business for long enough and it must be piling up now that he’s arrived in New York. It’s high time for us to leave the ship before we get unnecessarily mixed up in some petty squabble between a pair of engineers and end up turning it into more than it is. I completely understand what you’re doing, by the way, my dear nephew, and that’s precisely what gives me the right to lead you away from here at once.”
“I’ll have a boat made ready for you,” said the captain, astonishing Karl by not offering the slightest objection to his uncle’s self-deprecating words. The chief purser hurried over to the desk and phoned the captain’s order through to the bosun.
‘It’s true that we’re almost out of time,’ Karl said to himself, ‘but there’s nothing I can do without insulting everybody. I can’t leave my uncle when he’s only just found me. The captain is polite, but no more than that. His politeness will stop when it comes to discipline, and I’m sure what my uncle said is what the captain really thinks. Schubal I don’t want to talk to, I even feel bad that I shook his hand. And all the other people here are irrelevant.’
Thinking these thoughts, he slowly went over to the stoker, pulled the stoker’s right hand out of his belt and held it playfully in his own. “Why don’t you say anything?” he asked. “Why do you let them treat you like this?”
The stoker just wrinkled his forehead as if searching for the words to express himself.
“You’ve suffered an injustice, more than anyone else on this ship, I know that for sure.” And Karl pulled his fingers back and forth between those of the stoker, who looked around with shining eyes, as if experiencing a moment of bliss that no one could take away from him.
“You’ve got to stand up for yourself, say yes and no, otherwise people won’t have a clue about the truth. You’ve got to promise me that you’ll do as I’ve said, because I’m very much afraid that I won’t be able to help you at all any more.” Karl was crying as he kissed the stoker’s chapped, almost lifeless hand, pressing it against his cheek like a treasure he had to give up. — Then his uncle was at his side and, ever so gently, pulled him away.
“The stoker seems to have captivated you,” he said, and looked knowingly over Karl’s head at the captain. “You felt abandoned, you found the stoker and you’re grateful to him, that’s very commendable. But, for my sake, don’t take it too far, and please start to learn your station.”
Outside the office there was a sudden racket, shouting, and it even seemed as if someone was being brutally shoved against the door. A seaman came in, a little dishevelled and wearing a girl’s apron. “There are people outside,” he said, jabbing his elbows as if still in the ruckus. Finally he got a hold on himself and tried to salute the captain, but then noticed the apron, ripped it off, threw it on the floor and shouted, “That’s disgusting! They’ve tied a girl’s apron on me.” Then he clicked his heels and saluted. Someone began to laugh, but the captain said severely, “That’s what I call a good mood. Who’s outside?”
“They’re my witnesses,” said Schubal, stepping forward. “I sincerely apologize for their behaviour. When people have a sea voyage behind them, they sometimes get a little crazy.”
“Call them in right away,” ordered the captain and, turning straight to the senator, he spoke politely but briskly: “If you’d be so good, Senator, as to follow this seaman with your nephew, he’ll take you to the boat. I’m sure I don’t have to say what a pleasure and an honour it’s been to make your personal acquaintance. I only hope that we’ll soon have an opportunity to carry on our conversation about the state of the American fleets, and perhaps we’ll again be interrupted as pl
easantly as we were today.”
“One nephew’s enough for the time being,” said his uncle with a laugh. “And now please accept my sincerest thanks for your kindness, and I hope all goes well until we next meet. It’s actually quite possible that we”—he gave Karl an affectionate squeeze—“might end up spending some time with you when we take our next trip to Europe.”
“It would be a great pleasure,” said the captain. The two men shook hands. Karl could only give his hand briefly and wordlessly, because the captain’s attention was already consumed by the fifteen people who had trooped in, a little sheepish but still very noisy, under the supervision of Schubal. The seaman asked the senator for permission to go ahead and then cleared a way for him and Karl, who moved easily through the crowd of bowing crewmen. It seemed that these good-natured people thought of Schubal’s quarrel with the stoker as a joke that even the captain could share. Among them Karl noticed the girl from the kitchens, Lina, who winked at him playfully and tied on the apron that the seaman had thrown to the floor, because it was hers.
Still following the seaman, they left the office and turned off into a narrow corridor that, after a few steps, brought them to a little door from which a short staircase led down to the boat that had been made ready for them. The seamen in the boat—into which their chief made a single, sudden leap—stood up and saluted. The senator was just giving Karl a warning to be careful going down the steps when Karl burst into painful tears. The senator took hold of Karl’s chin, pressed Karl to him, and stroked his head with his other hand. In this way, step by step, they went slowly down the stairs and got into the boat, where the senator chose a good seat for Karl directly opposite himself. At a sign from the senator, the seamen pushed off from the ship and were immediately rowing hard. They were hardly a few feet from the ship when Karl noticed to his surprise that they were on the side of the ship with the windows that looked into the office. All three windows were filled with Schubal’s witnesses, who waved and shouted goodbye so cheerfully that his uncle waved back and one of the seaman performed the trick of blowing a kiss off his hand without breaking the rhythm of his strokes. It was really as if the stoker didn’t exist any more. Karl took a closer look at his uncle, whose knees were almost touching his own, and started to wonder whether this man could ever replace the stoker in his heart. His uncle avoided meeting his eye and looked out at the waves that were rising and falling around their boat.
GIVE UP!
IT WAS VERY EARLY in the morning, the streets clean and empty, I was going to the train station. When I compared a clock tower with the time on my watch, I saw that it was already much later than I’d thought and I really had to get a move on; the shock of this realization made me start to doubt which direction I was heading in, I didn’t yet know the city very well; luckily there was a policeman nearby, I ran over to him and breathlessly asked him the way. He smiled and said, “You want me to tell you the way?”
“Yes,” I said, “because I can’t find it myself.”
“Give up, give up,” he said, and turned away abruptly, like someone who wanted to be alone with his laughter.
Translator’s Acknowledgments
With thanks to Anoushiravaan Darabi,
Adam Freudenheim, Laura Macaulay
and Stella Powell-Jones.
STEFAN ZWEIG · EDGAR ALLAN POE · ISAAC BABEL TOMÁS GONZÁLEZ · ULRICH PLENZDORF · JOSEPH KESSEL VELIBOR čOLIĆ · LOUISE DE VILMORIN · MARCEL AYMÉ ALEXANDER PUSHKIN · MAXIM BILLER · JULIEN GRACQ BROTHERS GRIMM · HUGO VON HOFMANNS THAL GEORGE SAND · PHILIPPE BEAUSSANT · IVÁN REPILA E.T.A. HOFFMANN · ALEXANDER LERNET HOLENIA YASUSHI INOUE · HENRY JAMES · FRIEDRICH TORBERG ARTHUR SCHNITZLER · ANTOINE DE SAINT EXUPÉRY MACHI TAWARA · GAITO GAZDANOV · HERMANN HESSE LOUIS COUPERUS · JAN JACOB SLAUERHOFF PAUL MORAND · MARK TWAIN · PAUL FOURNEL ANTAL SZERB · JONA OBERSKI · MEDARDO FRAILE HÉCTOR ABAD · PETER HANDKE · ERNS T WEISS PENELOPE DELTA · RAYMOND RADIGUET · PETR KRÁL ITALO SVEVO · RÉGIS DEBRAY · BRUNO SCHULZ · TEFFI EGON HOSTOVSKÝ · JOHANNES URZIDIL · JÓZEF WITTLIN
Copyright
Pushkin Press
71–75 Shelton Street
London WC2H 9JQ
English translation © Alexander Starritt 2018
This translation first published by Pushkin Press in 2018
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ISBN 13: 978–1–78227–440–7
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