Refugee Josef, Chapter 16

0:00 Somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean, 1939. Ten days from home. Joseph followed the small group of kids through the raised doorway onto the bridge of the St. Louis. The bridge was a narrow, curving room that stretched from one side of the ship to the other. Bright sunlight streamed in through two dozen windows, offering a panoramic view of the vast, blue -green Atlantic and wispy white clouds. Throughout the wood -decked room were metal benches with maps and rulers on them, and the walls were dotted with mysterious gauges and meters made of shining brass. There were a number of crewmen on the bridge, some of them wearing blue and white sailor uniforms like the stewards, and three more in brass -buttoned blue jackets with

0:47 gold bands at the cuffs and blue officer's caps with gold trim. One of the regular sailors stood at a spoked steering wheel the size of a truck tire with handles sticking out all around it. looked like the steering wheels Joseph had seen in paintings of pirate ships, but this one was metal and connected to a big rectangular pedestal. The shortest of the three men in fancy uniforms strode over to the group with a big smile on his face. Joseph recognized him from the Shabbos service. Welcome to the bridge, boys and girls, he said. I'm Captain Schroeder. The captain shook each of their hands, even though none of them was older than thirteen. One of the parents on board the ship had arranged for a tour of the bridge

1:32 and engine room for any children who wanted to attend, and eight of them had signed up. Ruthie and Evelina hadn't been interested, but Renata was there, along with a few of the other older kids. Captain Schroeder introduced them to his first officer and the other crew on the bridge and showed them what some of the gauges and dials meant. Joseph listened eagerly. This is the engine control for the St. Louis, Captain Schroeder explained. When we want to change speed, we grip these handles, slide them all the way forward, and then pull them back to the new setting. He smiled. I'm not going to change the speed now, because we've got the engines set right where we want them. Joseph noticed both handles were set to a head

2:19 full. Are we going full speed because we're racing two other ships to Cuba? Joseph asked. The captain looked surprised, and then a little angry. Where did you hear that we're racing other ships to Cuba? he asked Joseph. Two stewards were talking about it the other day, Joseph said, feeling a little nervous. They said if we don't make it there first, they might not let us in. The captain pursed his lips and glanced meaningfully at his first officer, who looked concerned. The captain turned on his smile again. We're not in any kind of race, he said, looking from Joseph to the other kids. We're just making best possible speed because we have calm seas and a following wind. You've nothing to worry about. Now, perhaps Petty Officer Yockel

3:08 will show you the engine room. As high up as the bridge was on the ship, the engine room was just as far down. After stepping through a steel fire door that had crew only painted on it in big letters, Joseph and the tour group went down staircase after staircase, and they still weren't to the engine room yet. Below decks was very different from what Joseph was used to above decks. Where everything on A, B, and C decks was airy and comfortable, there were no portholes here, no spacious cabins. The air was damp and smelled of cigarettes and cabbage and sweat. Peeking into the rooms, Joseph could see that the crew quarters below decks had two beds to a room and barely enough space to turn around. The hallways were

3:57 narrow and the ceilings were low. Petty Officer Yockel had to duck as they went through doorways. Joseph had never been afraid of tight places before, but the close living conditions made him uneasy. He felt like he was visiting an alien world. The seven other kids must have felt the same way because they were all silent, even Renata. From down the hall came the sound of men singing, and Petty Officer Yockel slowed. As they got closer, Joseph recognized the tune. It was the Horst Vessel song, the anthem of the Nazi party. Joseph's skin crawled, and he and the other kids looked at each other nervously. Joseph had heard the Horst Vessel song hundreds of times in the weeks following his father's abduction. It had gone overnight from an obscure

4:46 song the Nazis sang at rallies to the unofficial national anthem of Germany, and it was frightening. The last time Joseph had heard the song was the day every one of his neighbors had lined the street to salute as Nazi soldiers marched by. Petty Officer Yockel tried to slip the children past the little common room where the crewmen were drinking and singing, but suddenly someone in the room called out, Stop! Passengers aren't allowed down here! Yockel froze, and so did Joseph. One of the men got up from the table, a scowl on his face. He was a thick -set man with a bulbous nose, bulldog cheeks, and dark, heavy eyebrows. Joseph knew that face from somewhere. Had he been their steward at dinner? Set up

5:35 their beds one night? No. Joseph remembered. This was the man he had seen in the balcony the morning of the Shabbos service, the man who had been angry that the portrait of Hitler had been taken down and removed. The man staggered a little, bumping into things as he tried to move through the tight little room. Joseph had seen drunk people leaving pubs in Berlin the same way. The captain has given these children special permission to visit the engine room, Schindig, Petty Officer Yockel told him. The captain, Schindig said, his voice dripping with disapproval. Even from where Joseph stood, he could smell the alcohol on his breath. Yes, Yockel said, straightening. The captain. On the wall of the common room, Joseph

6:23 saw a bulletin board with Nazi slogans and headlines from the rabidly anti -Jewish newspaper Der Sturme pinned to it. He felt a shiver of fear. Jewish rats, Schindig said, sneering at Joseph and the other kids. Many of them looked at their shoes, and even Joseph looked away, trying not to draw the big man's attention. Joseph clenched his fists, and his ears burned hot with frustration and embarrassment at his helplessness. After a few tense moments, Schindig staggered back to his seat, the threat of the captain's rank still worth something, even so far away from the bridge. Petty Officer Yockel hurried the children along, and Schindig and his friends broke into another Nazi song, even louder than before. Joseph heard them sing, When Jewish blood

7:13 flows from the knife, things will go much better, before Yockel ushered them down another flight of stairs. Joseph's legs felt weak, and he clung to the railing. He thought they had escaped all this on the St. Louis, but the hatred had followed them even here, to the middle of the ocean. With its huge diesel engines and generators and dials and pumps and switches, the engine room should have been fascinating, but Joseph had a hard time getting excited about it. None of the other children were excited either, not after what had happened with Schindig. The tour ended solemnly, and Petty Officer Yockel returned them to the surface, being careful to take them back by a different route. It was a different world below Dex, Joseph thought. A

8:00 world outside the magic little bubble he and the other Jews lived in, above Dex, on the MS St. Louis. Here, below Dex, was the real world.