in the train, the dizzy whirl through Berlin, the fright we had from the
rough proceedings of the Germans, and all the strange experiences of the
place we just escaped--after all this we needed rest. But to get it was
impossible for all but the youngest children. If we had borne great
discomforts on the night before, we were suffering now. I had thought
anything worse impossible. Worse it was now. The car was even more
crowded, and people gasped for breath. People sat in strangers' laps,
only glad of that. The floor was so thickly lined that the conductor
could not pass, and the tickets were passed to him from hand to hand.
To-night all were more worn out, and that did not mend their
dispositions. They could not help falling asleep and colliding with
someone's nodding head, which called out angry mutterings and growls.
Some fell off their seats and caused a great commotion by rolling over
on the sleepers on the floor, and, in spite of my own sleepiness and
weariness, I had many quiet laughs by myself as I watched the funny
actions of the poor travellers.
Not until very late did I fall asleep. I, with the rest, missed the
pleasant company of our friends, the Gittlemans, and thought about them
as I sat perched on a box, with an old man's knees for the back of my
seat, another man's head continually striking my right shoulder, a dozen
or so arms being tossed restlessly right in front of my face, and as
many legs holding me a fast prisoner, so that I could only try to keep
my seat against all the assaults of the sleepers who tried in vain to
make their positions more comfortable. It was all so comical, in spite
of all the inconveniences, that I tried hard not to laugh out loud, till
I too fell asleep. I was awakened very early in the morning by something
chilling and uncomfortable on my face, like raindrops coming down
irregularly. I found it was a neighbor of mine eating cheese, who was
dropping bits on my face. So I began the day with a laugh at the man's
funny apologies, but could not find much more fun in the world on
account of the cold and the pain of every limb. It was very miserable,
till some breakfast cheered me up a little.
About eight o'clock we reached Hamburg. Again there was a gendarme to
ask questions, look over the tickets and give directions. But all the
time he kept a distance from those passengers who came from Russia, all
for fear of the cholera. We had noticed before how people were afraid to
come near us, but since that memorable bath in Berlin, and all the
steaming and smoking of our things, it seemed unnecessary.
We were marched up to the strangest sort of vehicle one could think of.
It was a something I don't know any name for, though a little like an
express wagon. At that time I had never seen such a high, narrow, long
thing, so high that the women and girls couldn't climb up without the
men's help, and great difficulty; so narrow that two persons could not
sit comfortably side by side, and so long that it took me some time to
move my eyes from the rear end, where the baggage was, to the front,
where the driver sat.
When all had settled down at last (there were a number besides
ourselves) the two horses started off very fast, in spite of their heavy
load. Through noisy, strange looking streets they took us, where many
people walked or ran or rode. Many splendid houses, stone and brick, and
showy shops, they passed. Much that was very strange to us we saw, and
little we knew anything about. There a little cart loaded with bottles
or tin cans, drawn by a goat or a dog, sometimes two, attracted our
attention. Sometimes it was only a nurse carrying a child in her arms
that seemed interesting, from the strange dress. Often it was some
article displayed in a shop window or door, or the usually smiling owner
standing in the doorway, that called for our notice. Not that there was
anything really unusual in many of these things, but a certain air of
foreignness, which sometimes was very vague, surrounded everything that
passed before our interested gaze as the horses hastened on.
The strangest sight of all we saw as we came into the still noisier
streets. Something like a horse-car such as we had seen in Vilna for the
first time, except that it was open on both sides (in most cases) but
without any horses, came flying--really flying--past us. For we stared
and looked it all over, and above, and under, and rubbed our eyes, and
asked of one another what we saw, and nobody could find what it was that
made the thing go. And go it did, one after another, faster than we,
with nothing to move it. "Why, what _is_ that?" we kept exclaiming.
"Really, do you see anything that makes it go? I'm sure I don't." Then I
ventured the highly probable suggestion, "Perhaps it's the fat man in
the gray coat and hat with silver buttons. I guess he pushes it. I've
noticed one in front on every one of them, holding on to that shining
thing." And I'm sure this was as wise a solution of the mystery as
anyone could give, except the driver, who laughed to himself and his
horses over our surprise and wonder at nothing he could see to cause
it.
But we couldn't understand his explanation, though we always got along
very easily with the Germans, and not until much later did we know that
those wonderful things, with only a fat man to move them, were electric
cars.
The sightseeing was not all on our side. I noticed many people stopping
to look at us as if amused, though most passed by as though used to such
sights. We did make a queer appearance all in a long row, up above
people's heads. In fact, we looked like a flock of giant fowls roosting,
only wide awake.
Suddenly, when everything interesting seemed at an end, we all
recollected how long it was since we had started on our funny ride.
Hours, we thought, and still the horses ran. Now we rode through quieter
streets where there were fewer shops and more wooden houses. Still the
horses seemed to have but just started. I looked over our perch again.
Something made me think of a description I had read of criminals being
carried on long journeys in uncomfortable things--like this? Well, it
was strange--this long, long drive, the conveyance, no word of
explanation, and all, though going different ways, being packed off
together. We were strangers; the driver knew it. He might take us
anywhere--how could we tell? I was frightened again as in Berlin. The
faces around me confessed the same.
The streets became quieter still; no shops, only little houses; hardly
any people passing. Now we cross many railway tracks and I can hear the
sea not very distant. There are many trees now by the roadside, and the
wind whistles through their branches. The wheels and hoofs make a great
noise on the stones, the roar of the sea and the wind among the branches
have an unfriendly sound.
The horses never weary. Still they run. There are no houses now in view,
save now and then a solitary one, far away. I can see the ocean. Oh, it
is stormy. The dark waves roll inward, the white foam flies high in the
air; deep sounds come from it. The wheels and hoofs make a great noise;
the wind is stronger, and says, "Do you hear the sea?" And the ocean's
roar threatens. The sea threatens, and the wind bids me hear it, and the
hoofs and the wheels repeat the command, and so do the trees, by
gestures.
Yes, we are frightened. We are very still. Some Polish women over there
have fallen asleep, and the rest of us look such a picture of woe, and
yet so funny, it is a sight to see and remember.
At last, at last! Those unwearied horses have stopped. Where? In front
of a brick building, the only one on a large, broad street, where only
the trees, and, in the distance, the passing trains can be seen. Nothing
else. The ocean, too, is shut out.
All were helped off, the baggage put on the sidewalk, and then taken up
again and carried into the building, where the passengers were ordered
to go. On the left side of the little corridor was a small office where
a man sat before a desk covered with papers. These he pushed aside when
we entered, and called us in one by one, except, of course children. As
usual, many questions were asked, the new ones being about our tickets.
Then each person, children included, had to pay three marcs--one for the
wagon that brought us over and two for food and lodgings, till our
various ships should take us away.
Mamma, having five to pay for, owed fifteen marcs. The little sum we
started with was to last us to the end of the journey, and would have
done so if there hadn't been those unexpected bills to pay at Keebart,
Eidtkunen, Berlin, and now at the office. Seeing how often services were
forced upon us unasked and payment afterwards demanded, mother had begun
to fear that we should need more money, and had sold some things to a
woman for less than a third of their value. In spite of that, so heavy
was the drain on the spare purse where it had not been expected, she
found to her dismay that she had only twelve marcs left to meet the new
bill.
The man in the office wouldn't believe it, and we were given over in
charge of a woman in a dark gray dress and long white apron, with a red
cross on her right arm. She led us away and thoroughly searched us all,
as well as our baggage. That was nice treatment, like what we had been
receiving since our first uninterrupted entrance into Germany. Always a
call for money, always suspicion of our presence and always rough orders
and scowls of disapproval, even at the quickest obedience. And now this
outrageous indignity! We had to bear it all because we were going to
America from a land cursed by the dreadful epidemic. Others besides
ourselves shared these trials, the last one included, if that were any
comfort, which it was not.
When the woman reported the result of the search as being fruitless, the
man was satisfied, and we were ordered with the rest through many more
examinations and ceremonies before we should be established under the
quarantine, for that it was.
While waiting for our turn to be examined by the doctor I looked about,
thinking it worth while to get acquainted with a place where we might be
obliged to stay for I knew not how long. The room where we were sitting
was large, with windows so high up that we couldn't see anything through
them. In the middle stood several long wooden tables, and around these
were settees of the same kind. On the right, opposite the doctor's
office, was a little room where various things could be bought of a
young man--if you hadn't paid all your money for other things.
When the doctor was through with us he told us to go to Number Five. Now
wasn't that like in a prison? We walked up and down a long yard looking,
among a row of low, numbered doors, for ours, when we heard an
exclamation of, "Oh, Esther! how do you happen to be here?" and, on
seeing the speaker, found it to be an old friend of ours from Plotzk.
She had gone long before us, but her ship hadn't arrived yet. She was
surprised to see us because we had had no intention of going when she
went.
What a comfort it was to find a friend among all the strangers! She
showed us at once to our new quarters, and while she talked to mamma I
had time to see what they were like.
It looked something like a hospital, only less clean and comfortable;
more like the soldiers' barracks I had seen. I saw a very large room,
around whose walls were ranged rows of high iron double bedsteads, with
coarse sacks stuffed with something like matting, and not over-clean
blankets for the only bedding, except where people used their own. There
were three windows almost touching the roof, with nails covering all the
framework. From the ceiling hung two round gas lamps, and almost under
them stood a little wooden table and a settee. The floor was of stone.
Here was a pleasant prospect. We had no idea how long this unattractive
place might be our home.
Our friend explained that Number Five was only for Jewish women and
girls, and the beds were sleeping rooms, dining rooms, parlors, and
everything else, kitchens excepted. It seemed so, for some were lounging
on the beds, some sitting up, some otherwise engaged, and all were
talking and laughing and making a great noise. Poor things! there was
nothing else to do in that prison.
Before mother had told our friend of our adventures, a girl, also a
passenger, who had been walking in the yard, ran in and announced, "It's
time to go to dinner! He has come already." "He" we soon learned, was
the overseer of the Jewish special kitchen, without whom the meals were
never taken.
All the inmates of Number Five rushed out in less than a minute, and I
wondered why they hurried so. When we reached the place that served as
dining room, there was hardly any room for us. Now, while the dinner is
being served, I will tell you what I can see.
In the middle of the yard stood a number of long tables covered with
white oilcloth. On either side of each table stood benches on which all
the Jewish passengers were now seated, looking impatiently at the door
with the sign "Jewish Kitchen" over it. Pretty soon a man appeared in
the doorway, tall, spare, with a thin, pointed beard, and an air of
importance on his face. It was "he", the overseer, who carried a large
tin pail filled with black bread cut into pieces of half a pound each.
He gave a piece to every person, the youngest child and the biggest man
alike, and then went into the kitchen and filled his pail with soup and
meat, giving everybody a great bowl full of soup and a small piece of
meat. All attacked their rations as soon as they received them and
greatly relished the coarse bread and dark, hot water they called soup.
We couldn't eat those things and only wondered how any one could have
such an appetite for such a dinner. We stopped wondering when our own
little store of provisions gave out.
After dinner, the people went apart, some going back to their beds and
others to walk in the yard or sit on the settees there. There was no
other place to go to. The doors of the prison were never unlocked except
when new passengers arrived or others left for their ships. The
fences--they really were solid walls--had wires and nails on top, so
that one couldn't even climb to get a look at the sea.
We went back to our quarters to talk over matters and rest from our
journey. At six o'clock the doctor came with a clerk, and, standing
before the door, bade all those in the yard belonging to Number Five
assemble there; and then the roll was called and everybody received a
little ticket as she answered to her name. With this all went to the
kitchen and received two little rolls and a large cup of partly
sweetened tea. This was supper; and breakfast, served too in this way
was the same. Any wonder that people hurried to dinner and enjoyed it?
And it was always the same thing, no change.
Little by little we became used to the new life, though it was hard to
go hungry day after day, and bear the discomforts of the common room,
shared by so many; the hard beds (we had little bedding of our own), and
the confinement to the narrow limits of the yard, and the tiresome
sameness of the life. Meal hours, of course, played the most important
part, while the others had to be filled up as best we could. The weather
was fine most of the time and that helped much. Everything was an event,
the arrival of fresh passengers a great one which happened every day;
the day when the women were allowed to wash clothes by the well was a
holiday, and the few favorite girls who were allowed to help in the
kitchen were envied. On dull, rainy days, the man coming to light the
lamps at night was an object of pleasure, and every one made the best of
everybody else. So when a young man arrived who had been to America once
before, he was looked up to by every person there as a superior, his
stories of our future home listened to with delight, and his manners
imitated by all, as a sort of fit preparation. He was wanted everywhere,
and he made the best of his greatness by taking liberties and putting
on great airs and, I afterwards found, imposing on our ignorance very
much. But anything "The American" did passed for good, except his going
away a few days too soon.
Then a girl came who was rather wanting a little brightness. So all
joined in imposing upon her by telling her a certain young man was a
great professor whom all owed respect and homage to, and she would do
anything in the world to express hers, while he used her to his best
advantage, like the willing slave she was. Nobody seemed to think this
unkind at all, and it really was excusable that the poor prisoners,
hungry for some entertainment, should try to make a little fun when the
chance came. Besides, the girl had opened the temptation by asking, "Who
was the handsome man in the glasses? A professor surely;" showing that
she took glasses for a sure sign of a professor, and professor for the
highest possible title of honor. Doesn't this excuse us?
The greatest event was the arrival of some ship to take some of the
waiting passengers. When the gates were opened and the lucky ones said
good bye, those left behind felt hopeless of ever seeing the gates open
for them. It was both pleasant and painful, for the strangers grew to be
fast friends in a day and really rejoiced in each other's fortune, but
the regretful envy could not be helped either.
Amid such events as these a day was like a month at least. Eight of
these we had spent in quarantine when a great commotion was noticed
among the people of Number Five and those of the corresponding number in
the men's division. There was a good reason for it. You remember that it
was April and Passover was coming on; in fact, it began that night. The
great question was, Would we be able to keep it exactly according to the
host of rules to be obeyed? You who know all about the great holiday can
understand what the answer to that question meant to us. Think of all
the work and care and money it takes to supply a family with all the
things proper and necessary, and you will see that to supply a few
hundred was no small matter. Now, were they going to take care that all
was perfectly right, and could we trust them if they promised, or should
we be forced to break any of the laws that ruled the holiday?
All day long there was talking and questioning and debating and
threatening that "we would rather starve than touch anything we were not
sure of." And we meant it. So some men and women went to the overseer to
let him know what he had to look out for. He assured them that he would
rather starve along with us than allow anything to be in the least
wrong. Still, there was more discussing and shaking of heads, for they
were not sure yet.
There was not a crumb anywhere to be found, because what bread we
received was too precious for any of it to be wasted; but the women made
a great show of cleaning up Number Five, while they sighed and looked
sad and told one another of the good hard times they had at home getting
ready for Passover. Really, hard as it is, when one is used to it from
childhood, it seems part of the holiday, and can't be left out. To sit
down and wait for supper as on other nights seemed like breaking one of
the laws. So they tried hard to be busy.
At night we were called by the overseer (who tried to look more
important than ever in his holiday clothes--not his best, though) to the
feast spread in one of the unoccupied rooms. We were ready for it, and
anxious enough. We had had neither bread nor matzo for dinner, and were
more hungry than ever, if that is possible. We now found everything
really prepared; there were the pillows covered with a snow-white
spread, new oilcloth on the newly scrubbed tables, some little candles
stuck in a basin of sand on the window-sill for the women, and--a sure
sign of a holiday--both gas lamps burning. Only one was used on other
nights.
Happy to see these things, and smell the supper, we took our places and
waited. Soon the cook came in and filled some glasses with wine from two
bottles,--one yellow, one red. Then she gave to each person--exactly one
and a half matzos; also some cold meat, burned almost to a coal for the
occasion.
The young man--bless him--who had the honor to perform the ceremonies,
was, fortunately for us all, one of the passengers. He felt for and with
us, and it happened--just a coincidence--that the greater part of the
ceremony escaped from his book as he turned the leaves. Though strictly
religious, nobody felt in the least guilty about it, especially on
account of the wine; for, when we came to the place where you have to
drink the wine, we found it tasted like good vinegar, which made us all
choke and gasp, and one little girl screamed "Poison!" so that all
laughed, and the leader, who tried to go on, broke down too at the sight
of the wry faces he saw; while the overseer looked shocked, the cook
nearly set her gown on fire by overthrowing the candles with her apron
(used to hide her face) and all wished our Master Overseer had to drink
that "wine" all his days.
Think of the same ceremony as it is at home, then of this one just
described. Do they even resemble each other?
Well, the leader got through amid much giggling and sly looks among the
girls who understood the trick, and frowns of the older people (who
secretly blessed him for it). Then, half hungry, all went to bed and
dreamed of food in plenty.
No other dreams? Rather! For the day that brought the Passover brought
us--our own family--the most glorious news. We had been ordered to
bring our baggage to the office!
"Ordered to bring our baggage to the office!" That meant nothing less
than that we were "going the next day!"
It was just after supper that we received the welcome order. Oh, who
cared if there wasn't enough to eat? Who cared for anything in the whole
world? We didn't. It was all joy and gladness and happy anticipation for
us. We laughed, and cried, and hugged one another, and shouted, and
acted altogether like wild things. Yes, we were wild with joy, and long
after the rest were asleep, we were whispering together and wondering
how we could keep quiet the whole night. We couldn't sleep by any means,
we were so afraid of oversleeping the great hour; and every little
while, after we tried to sleep, one of us would suddenly think she saw
day at the window, and wake the rest, who also had only been pretending
to sleep while watching in the dark for daylight.
When it came, it found no watchful eye, after all. The excitement gave
way to fatigue, and drowsiness first, then deep sleep, completed its
victory. It was eight o'clock when we awoke. The morning was cloudy and
chilly, the sun being too lazy to attend to business; now and then it
rained a little, too. And yet it was the most beautiful day that had
ever dawned on Hamburg.
We enjoyed everything offered for breakfast, two matzos and two cups of
tea apiece--why it was a banquet. After it came the good-byes, as we
were going soon. As I told you before, the strangers became fast friends
in a short time under the circumstances, so there was real sorrow at the
partings, though the joy of the fortunate ones was, in a measure, shared
by all.
About one o'clock (we didn't go to dinner--we couldn't eat for
excitement) we were called. There were three other families, an old
woman, and a young man, among the Jewish passengers, who were going with
us, besides some Polish people. We were all hurried through the door we
had watched with longing for so long, and were a little way from it when
the old woman stopped short and called on the rest to wait.
"We haven't any matzo!" she cried in alarm. "Where's the overseer?"
Sure enough we had forgotten it, when we might as well have left one of
us behind. We refused to go, calling for the overseer, who had promised
to supply us, and the man who had us in charge grew angry and said he
wouldn't wait. It was a terrible situation for us.
"Oh," said the man, "you can go and get your matzo, but the boat won't
wait for you." And he walked off, followed by the Polish people only.
We had to decide at once. We looked at the old woman. She said she
wasn't going to start on a dangerous journey with such a sin on her
soul. Then the children decided. They understood the matter. They cried
and begged to follow the party. And we did.
Just when we reached the shore, the cook came up panting hard. She
brought us matzo. How relieved we were then!
We got on a little steamer (the name is too big for it) that was managed
by our conductor alone. Before we had recovered from the shock of the
shrill whistle so near us, we were landing in front of a large stone
building.
Once more we were under the command of the gendarme. We were ordered to
go into a big room crowded with people, and wait till the name of our
ship was called. Somebody in a little room called a great many queer
names, and many passengers answered the call. At last we heard,
"Polynesia!"