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Herr Kesler learned that the Hamburg-Amerika-Linie’s luxury passenger ship St.Louis would be making a special voyage to Havana, Cuba, departing from Hamburg on May13. It would be carrying more than 900 passengers, nearly all of us Jewish. The cost was 800 Reichsmarks for each first-class ticket and 600 Reichsmarks for tourist-class. The Nazis required us to pay an additional 230 Reichsmarks each for the return voyage, in spite of the fact that none of us planned to return. After purchasing the tickets and our train fare to Hamburg, our money was nearly depleted. It didn’t matter. The government would allow us to leave with only ten Reichsmarks each in our pockets. Six months after Kristallnacht, our ordeal was almost over. Our family would be safe in Cuba while we waited for our turn to immigrate to the United States.
My stomach ached with apprehension on the train journey from Berlin to Hamburg. Would Vati really be waiting there for us? Would the Nazis really allow us to leave? I worried and fretted about a thousand things that might go wrong, but most of all, I feared that this would turn out to be a cruel, sadistic trick, and we would be left with nothing—no father, no money, no belongings, no home to return to in Berlin. But I prodded Mutti and Ruthie forward in spite of my fears. That was my job now.
When we arrived at the port in Hamburg that evening, the line of passengers waiting to board stretched down the wharf to the gangway. I halted in amazement to view the immense ship. It was impossible to see all of it from where I stood, but the sight of its great black hull, its pristine white upper structure with dangling lifeboats, and its two steaming smokestacks painted red, white, and black renewed my courage. A brass band from the steamship company played lively music to see us off on our journey. It felt to me like the Nazis were celebrating our departure, saying “good riddance,” especially when I saw flags with swastikas flying on board the St.Louis. For a moment, I had the terrifying thought that we were boarding a floating prison.
“Where’s Daniel?” Mutti whispered, glancing around as we took our place in line. “Do you see him anywhere?” I didn’t. We inched forward, closer and closer to the gangway. Water heaved and slapped against the pier and the ship’s hull. The ropes tying the ship to the dock were thicker than my legs.
“We shouldn’t be departing on the Sabbath,” I heard a woman behind me say. “And today is also the thirteenth. Those are very bad omens.”
“Superstitious nonsense,” a man replied.
“Even if it is nonsense,” she said, “we shouldn’t be breaking the Sabbath.”
When it was finally our turn to board, my mother halted as if she had decided to go no farther. She still hadn’t seen Vati and she’d been insisting for months that she wouldn’t go to Cuba without him. “Maybe he’s already on board,” I whispered to her. “Come on, and don’t make a fuss. He isn’t supposed to travel with us, remember?”
A steward escorted us to our wood-paneled stateroom. I’d never been on a ship before, and I was the last person to go inside, unable to stop gawking at the splendid interior. It resembled one of the grand hotels where we used to stay on holidays. After the steward left, I was about to close the door when I noticed a sudden movement in the shadows outside our stateroom. It was Vati! I let out a cry and ran into his arms. Mutti and Ruthie heard me and ran out to hug him, too.
“Daniel! Oh, Daniel! I thought I’d never see you again,” Mutti wept. She clung to him as if she’d never let go. I heard voices approaching in the corridor and quickly pushed everyone into our room, closing the door.
“I’m not supposed to be on this deck,” Vati said, “but I had to see you, Elise. I had to know that you and our girls were here. That you were safe.”
“Stay with us, Daniel. Who’s to know?”
“The stewards down below know who all of the former prisoners from Buchenwald are. They’ll know if one of us goes missing. We have nice living quarters down there, a deck, common rooms, and our own dining room, separate from first class. I’ll be fine, Elise. Once we’re out at sea, we’ll find a place to meet every day. The voyage only takes two weeks.”
I wiped my tears of joy and relief. Vati was with us again. I didn’t have to hold our family together anymore. Ever since Kristallnacht, I’d felt as though I was lugging a huge steamer trunk on my back as I carried the weight of responsibility for my mother and sister. Now I could finally set it down again. I could relax and enjoy the voyage, and I wanted to savor every moment of our journey to freedom, including our departure. “It must be almost time to set sail,” I said. “I’m going up on deck to watch us shove off, if that’s all right. Come with me, Ruthie.” I grabbed her hand and opened the door, not waiting for my parents to reply. They needed a few minutes alone after all these months apart.
The crowd of somber passengers that had already gathered at the rail seemed strangely subdued to me. I wondered if they had the same mixed feelings that I did—relief at finally escaping the fires of persecution, yet sorrow at leaving our homeland, our ancestors’ homeland. Would we ever see Germany again? Some of the passengers were waving to people on the wharf below, but we didn’t have anyone to wave to. The band continued to play, oblivious to the shouted commands of the sailors and dockworkers as they raised the gangway and untied ropes. The sudden blast of the ship’s whistle made me jump and cover my ears. Ruthie let out a startled yelp too, then we looked at each other and laughed. The band stopped playing below. The ship trembled beneath me. We were moving. The gap of water separating us from shore grew wider. I wanted to watch the city of Hamburg grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. My old life was ending and a new one beginning.
“Right on time,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see a young man about my age studying his pocket watch. “Germans are always on time.” He closed the lid and returned the watch to his pant pocket. He was as handsome as a film star, with hair the color of honey and eyes the same greenish-blue color as the water. I wondered if he was a Gentile and if he would dare to speak to me if he knew I was Jewish. He smiled and held out his hand. “Guten Abend. I’m Sam Shapiro.” A Jewish name. I smiled in return and released Ruthie’s hand to shake his. That was the very first time I held Sam’s strong, warm hand in mine.
“I’m Gisela,” I told him. “Gisela Wolff.”
“You can take that off now,” he said, pointing to the yellow star we were required to wear on our clothing. “We’re no longer in Germany. We’re free.”
