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4
Gisela
MAY 1939
Our first day aboard the luxury liner St.Louis turned out to be a beautiful, sunny one. I slept well for the first time in months, even though I was still getting used to the motion of the waves and the constant thrum of the ship’s engines. After breakfast, which was served by waiters wearing white jackets, I wanted to explore every inch of the ship. According to the information packet, there were decks where we could stroll or lounge in the sunshine, a gymnastic hall, a cinema, several dining rooms to choose from, a dance hall, and much, much more—including a swimming pool that would be set up once we reached a warmer climate. What I had seen of the public rooms so far had impressed me. They really were “first-class,” with lush carpets, sparkling chandeliers, and polished woodwork. I could hardly believe that we were being allowed to enjoy such luxuries again. When I’d first entered our stateroom last night and saw how beautifully made up it was, it stunned me to think that people would go to all that trouble for Jews. I still feared this voyage would turn out to be a cruel trick.
“Let’s explore the ship, Ruthie,” I said as soon as we’d returned from breakfast. “Want to?”
She shook her head and slumped down on her bed. My sister was a thin, wispy eleven-year-old with Mutti’s raven hair and Vati’s sad, dark eyes. She had lived under Hitler’s cruel shadow for as long as she could remember, and it had transformed her into a skittish, fearful child.
“We’ll get lost,” she replied. I suspected that she’d been frightened by all the reminders of our Nazi tormenters, like the swastika flags and the portrait of Hitler in the social hall where we’d just eaten. We’d been confined to our apartment for the past six months, barely venturing out after our Jewish school burned down. But even before Kristallnacht, we’d gradually been denied all the pleasures we’d once enjoyed, like attending a concert or walking in the park or visiting the Berlin Zoo, simply because we were Jewish. The luxurious St.Louis seemed like an alien world to all of us.
“Fine, I’ll go by myself,” I replied. I opened the door to leave, and there was Vati hovering in the shadows again. I started to say his name, but he held a finger to his lips, warning me to be quiet. We slipped inside our stateroom together. I had been so overjoyed to see my father last night that I hadn’t taken a good look at him in the dimly lit cabin. But today, with sunlight streaming through the porthole, it was clear how much he had suffered in prison. His skin was a sickly gray, and he sat down shakily after we all hugged him.
“Are you ill, Daniel?” Mutti asked. She pressed her palm to his forehead.
“I was ill in the camp,” he replied. “Dysentery, I believe. But I haven’t had a fever for a week now. Just a lingering cough.” I stayed to visit for a while before growing restless again. Neither Ruthie nor Mutti was going to let my father out of her sight anytime soon, and I still wanted to explore the ship.
“I’m going off by myself, then,” I told everyone. “I’ll be back in time for lunch.”
My excitement grew as I wandered through the narrow corridors, running my hands along the metal railings that we would need if the seas grew rough. The passageways were pristine and clean and smelled of fresh enamel paint. I climbed a set of steep metal stairs, following the sound of distant laughter and voices, and reached the sports deck, where a game of shuffleboard was in progress and squealing children played tag. The sky was the glorious blue of a sapphire, and I tasted salt on my lips. I made my way to the ship’s rail, holding my jacket closed against the wind, the breeze snarling my hair. I felt so alive and free that I thought I might never go back to my stateroom.
“Gisela!” I turned at the sound of my name and saw Sam Shapiro walking toward me, holding his kippah on his head so it wouldn’t blow away. I was amazed that he’d remembered my name. “Hello again,” he said with a little bow. “How did you enjoy your first night on the St.Louis?”
“I slept better than I have in months,” I replied. I raked my blowing hair from my eyes, wishing I had put on a nicer dress and taken more time with my hair. “How about you?”
“I enjoyed it very much. And after that wonderful breakfast, I’m off to explore the ship. Would you like to come with me? Or maybe you are waiting for someone?”
“I’m on my own. And I had the same idea. I would love to go exploring with you, Sam. Where shall we start?”
“I thought I’d go up to the very top deck and work my way down.” Sam had a natural instinct for finding his way, and we wandered all over the St.Louis that morning, talking about our families and getting to know each other. He was eighteen, two years older than me, and had grown up in Frankfurt. “My father escaped a year ago and is waiting for us in Cuba,” Sam explained. “My grandmother was very ill at the time and my mother wouldn’t leave her behind. I’ve been responsible for Mutti and my two younger brothers ever since. Oma died last month, and now we’re finally on our way to join my father.”
“I know what you mean about being responsible. My father was arrested on Kristallnacht and my mother fell to pieces. It’s been up to me all these months to keep her and my sister going and to get us all out of Germany.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your father. Mine barely escaped arrest.”
We had been walking and talking and exploring for more than an hour by then, and I already liked and trusted Sam Shapiro. I told him the truth about how Vati suddenly had been released from Buchenwald and that he was aboard this ship. “So maybe there will be a happy ending for all of us in Cuba,” Sam said. We reached the stern, and I stared down at the ship’s wake, churning far below us.
“I can’t imagine a happy ending yet,” I replied. “Not until our quota number is called and we can immigrate to the United States.”
“It’s the same with my family. But for now, it’s wonderful to be able to stop worrying for a while and to get away from my brothers for an hour and to spend time with a pretty girl.”
I was flattered but suddenly shy. My experience with boys had been very limited, and I didn’t know how to respond to his compliment. I decided to change the subject by asking a flood of questions. “What will Havana be like, do you think? What will you do there? Will you miss Germany?” We walked and talked until lunchtime and still hadn’t finished exploring the ship, but Sam needed to get back to his family. Since my father wasn’t allowed to eat with us in first class, Sam and I conspired to sit at the same table for dinner that evening so our mothers and siblings could meet.
Dining in the first-class social hall was like eating in a magnificent restaurant with crystal glasses and silverware, white linen tablecloths, and even an orchestra that performed while we ate. The ceiling of the huge space soared two stories above us, with a gallery around the second floor and a sweeping double staircase that made me feel like royalty as I descended to the main level. We could even choose our own meals from the menu. Mutti and Sam’s mother seemed to enjoy each other’s company but Ruthie and Sam’s brothers, who were twelve and ten, were shy with each other.
I sat beside Sam and we talked nonstop. I’d had crushes on boys in the past, and I would giggle with my girlfriends about what it would be like to hold hands with a handsome boy or even kiss him. But the fear and degradation we’d endured for the past few years had dashed any dreams I might have had about meeting and dating a boy. My growing friendship with Sam seemed like something from a fairy tale. “Did you know there’s a cinema on board?” Sam asked. “They’re screening a movie tonight, and I promised to take my brothers. Want to go with us?”
“I’d love to! It’s been years since we were allowed to go to the movies.” We made arrangements to meet outside the theater, and while it wasn’t exactly a real date since Ruthie and Sam’s brothers tagged along, I was excited and thrilled to be seated in the darkened theater beside handsome Sam Shapiro. The film was billed as a light romance, but when the lights dimmed and the screen came to life, a newsreel of Adolf Hitler began to play.
“The day of reckoning for Jews is at hand,”the Führer bellowed. A shock wave reverberated through the theater like an electrical current. The fear I’d felt for the past five years came rushing back. I looked away from the goose-stepping soldiers on the screen, feeling sick to my stomach. Ruthie began to sob. All around me, people rose to leave.
“Let’s go,” Sam said. “We don’t have to listen to this.” I could tell that he was livid. I was glad to get out of there, too, and so was my sister. “This is no different from home,” Sam said. “The Nazis enjoy toying with us, giving us hope and then snatching it away again.”
As other people left the theater along with us, I overheard a distinguished-looking gentleman say, “I’m going to speak with the captain immediately about this insult.”
“Let’s take Ruthie and your brothers up on deck,” I suggested, “and we’ll look at the stars.” We had a view from the promenade deck of billions of stars sparkling in the sky and the giant swath of the Milky Way high above the ink-black water. We stayed until the children complained of the cold.
