第 14 页

'I've been places where the skins are a luxury,' replied Wladek.

Stefan looked at him with admiration.

'Next problem is how do we get some money? said Wladek.

'You want everything in one day, don't you, o master?' said Stefan. 'Chain gang on the waterfront is the best bet, if you think you're up to some real work, Muscovite.'

'Show me,' said Wladek.

After they bad eaten half the fruit and hidden the rest under the straw in the corner of the carriage, Stefan took Wladek down the steps to the harbour and showed him all the ships. Wladek couldn't believe his eyes.

He had been told by the Baron of the great ships that crossed the high seas delivering their cargoes to foreign lands, but these were so much bigger than he had ever imagined, and they stood in a line as far as the eye could see.

Stefan interrupted his thoughts. 'See that one over there, the big green one; well, what you have to do is pick up a basket at the bottom of the gangplank, fill it with grain, climb up the ladder and then drop your load in the hold. You get a ruble for every four trips you make. Be sure you can count, Muscovite, because the bastard in charge of the gang will swindle you as soon as look at you and pocket the money for himself.'

Stefan and Wladek spent the rest of the afternoon carrying -grain up the ladder. They made twenty-six rubles between them. After a dinner of stolen nuts, bread, and an onion they hadn't intended to take, they slept happily in their carriage.

Wladek was the first to wake the next morning and Stefan found him studying his map.

'What's that?' asked Stefan.

'This is a route showing me how to get out of Russia.'

'What do you want to leave Russia for when you can stay here and team up with me?' said Stefan. 'We could be partners.'

'No, I must get to Turkey; there I will be a free man for the first time. Why don't you come with me, Stefan?'

'I could never leave Odessa. This is my home, the railway is where I live and these are the people I have known all my life. It's not good, but it might be worse in the place you call Turkey. But if that's what you want, I will help you to escape because I know how to find out where every ship has come from.'

'How do I discover which ship is going to Turkey?' asked Wladek.

'Easy. We'll get the information from One Tooth Joe at the end of the pier. You'll have to give him a ruble!'

'I'll bet he splits the money with you.'

'Fifty-fifty,' said Stefan. 'You're learning fast, Muscovite.' And with that he leaped out of the carriage.

Wladek followed him as he ran swiftly between the carriages, again conscious of how easily other boys moved, and how he limped. When they reached the end of the pier, Stefan took him into a small room full of dust-covered books and old timetables. Wladek couldn't see anyone there, but then he heard a voice from behind a large pile of books saying, 'What do you want, urchin? I don't have time to waste on you.'

'Some information for my travelling companion, Joe. When is the next luxury cruise to Turkey?'

'Money up front,' said an old man whose head appeared from behind the books, a lined weatherbeaten face wearing a seaman's cap. His black eyes were taking in Wladek.

'Used to be a great sea dog,' said Stefan in a whisper loud enough for Joe to hear.

'None of your cheek, boy. Where is the ruble?'

'My friend carries my purse,' said Stefan. 'Show him the ruble, Wladek.'

Wladek pulled out a coin. Joe bit it with his one remaining tooth, shuffled over to the bookcase and pulled out a large green timetable.

Dust flew everywbere. He started coughing as he thumbed through the dirty pages, moving his short, stubby, rope-worn finger down the long columns of names.

'Next Thursday the Renaska is coming in to pick up coal, probably will leave on Saturday. If the ship can load quickly enough, she may sail on the Friday night and save the berthing tariffs. She'll dock on berth seventeen.'

'Thanks, One Tooth,' said Stefan. 'I'll see if I can bring along any more of my wealthy associates in the future!'

One Tooth Joe raised his fist cursing, as Stefan and Wladek ran out on to the wharf.

For the next three days the two boys stole food, loaded grain and slept.

By the time the Turkish ship arrived on the following Thursday, Stefan bad almost convinced Wladek that be should remain in Odessa. But Wladek's fear of the Russians outweighed the atiraction of his new life with Stefan.

They stood on the quayside, staring at the new arrival docking at berth 17.

'How will I ever get on the ship?' asked Wladek.

'Simple,' said Stefan. 'We can join the chain gang tomorrow morning. I'll take the place behind you, and when the coal hold is nearly full, you can jump in and hide while I pick up your basket and walk on down the other side.'

'And collect my share of the money, no doubt,' said Wladek.

'Naturally,' said Stefan. 'There must be some financial reward for my superior intelligence or how could a man hope to sustain his belief in free enterprise?'

They joined the chain gang first diing the next morning and hauled coal up and down the gangplank until they were both ready to drop, but it still wasn't enough. The hold wasn't half full by nightfall. The two black boys slept soundly that night. The following morning, they started again and by mid-af temoon, when the hold was nearly full, Stefan kicked Wladek's ankle.

'Next time, Muscovite,' he said.

When they reached the top of the gangway, Wladek threw his coal in, dropped the basket on the deck, jumped over the side of the hold and landed on the coal, while Stefan picked up his basket and continued down the other side of the gangplank whistling.

'Goodbye., my friend,' he said, 'and good luck with the infidel Turks!'

Wladek pressed himself against a corner of the hold and watched the coal come pouring in beside him. The dust was everywhere, in his nose and mouth, in his lungs and eyes. With painful effort he avoided coughing for fear of being heard by one of the ship's crew. Just as he thought that he could no longer bear the air of the hold, and would have to return to Stefan and think of some other way of escape, he saw the doors slide shut above him. He coughed luxuriously.

After a few moments he felt something take a bite at his ankle. His blood went cold, realising what it had to be. He looked down, trying to work out where it had come from. No sooner had he thrown a piece of coal at the monster and sent him scurrying away than another one came at him, then another and another. The braver ones went for his legs. They seemed to appear from nowhere. Black, large, and hungry. It was the first time in his life that Wladek realised that rats had red eyes. He clambered to the top of the pile of coal and pulled open the hatch. The sunlight came flooding through arid the rats disappeared back into their tunnels in the coal. He started to climb out, but the ship was already well clear of the quayside. He fell back into the hold, terrified.

If the ship were forced to return and hand Wladek over, he knew it would mean a one-way journey back to camp 201 and the White Russians. He chose to stay with the black rats. As soon as Wladek closed the hatch, they came at him again. As fast as he could throw lumps of coal at the verminous creatures, a new one would appear from another angle. Every few moments Wladek had to open the hatch to let some light in, for light seemed to be the only ally that would frighten the black rodents away.

For two days and three nights Wladek waged a running battle with the rats without ever catching a moment of quiet sleep. When the ship finally reached the port of Constantinople and a deck-hand opened the hold, Wladek was black from his head to his knees with dirt, and red from his knees to his toes with blood. The deck-hand dragged him out. Wladek tried to stand up but collapsed in a heap on the deck.

When Wladek came to - he knew not where or how much later - he found himself on a bed in a small room with three men in long white coats who were studying him carefully, speaking a tongue he did not know. How many languages were there in the world? He looked at himself, still red and black, and when he tried to sit up, one of the white-coated men, the oldest of the three, with a thin, lined face and a goatee, pushed him back down. He addressed Wladek in the strange tongue. Wladek shook his head. He then tried Russian. Wladek again shook his head - that would be the quickest way back to where he had come. The next language the doctor tried was German, and Wladek realised that his command of that language was greater than his inquisitor's.

'You speak German?'

'Yes.'

'Ah, so you're not Russian, then?'

'No.'

'What were you doing in Russia?'

'Trying to escape.'

'Ah.' He then turned to his companions and seemed to report the conversation in his own tongue. They left the room.

A nurse came in and scrubbed him clean, taking little notice of his cries of anguish. She covered his legs in a thick, brown ointment and left him to sleep again. When Wladek awoke for the second time, he was quite alone. He lay staring at the white ceiling, considering his next move.

Still not sure of which country he was in, he climbed on to the window sill and stared out of the window. He could see a market place, not unlike the one in Odessa, except that the men wore long white robes and had darker skins. They also wore colourful hats that looked like small flower pots upside down, and sandals on their feet. The women were all in black and had even their faces covered except for their black eyes.

Wladek watched the strange race in the market place bargaining for their daily food; that was one thing at least that seemed to be international.

He watched the scene for several minutes before he noticed that running down by the side of the building was a red iron ladder stretching all the way to the ground, not unlike the fire escape in his castle in Slonim.

His castle. Who would believe him now? He climbed down from the window sill, walked cautiously to the door, opened it and peered into the corridor. Men and women were walking up and down, but none of them showed any interest in him. He closed the door gently, found his belongings in a cupboard in the comer of his room and dressed quickly. His clothes were still black with coal dust and felt gritty on his clean skin. Back to the window sill. The window opened easily. He gripped the fire escape, swung out of the window and staxted to climb down towards freedom. The first thing that hit him was the heat. He wished he was no longer wearing the heavy overcoat.

Once he touched the ground Wladek tried to run, but his legs were so weak and painful that he could only walk slowly. How he wished he could rid himself of that limp. He did not look back at the hospital until he was lost in the throng of the crowd in the market place.

Wladek stared at the tempting food on the stalls and decided to buy an orange and some nuts. He went to the lining in his suit; surely the money had been under his right arm? Yes it had, but it was no longer there, and far worse, the silver band had also gone. The men in the white coats had stolen his possessions. He considered going back to the hospital to retrieve the lost heirloom and decided against returning until he had bad something to eat. Perhaps there was still some money in his pockets. He searched around in the large overcoat pocket and immediately found the three notes and some coins. They were all together with the doctor's map and the silver band. Wladek was overjoyed at the discovery. He slipped the silver band on, and pushed it above his elbow.

Wladek chose the largest orange he could see and a handful of nuts. The stallkeeper said something to him that he could not understand. Wladek felt the easiest way out of the language barrier was to hand over a fifty ruble note. The stallkeeper looked at it, laughed, and threw his arms in the sky.

'Allah,' he cried, snatching back the nuts and the orange from Wladek and waving him away with his forefinger. Wladek walked off in despair; a different language meant different money, he supposed. In Russia he had been poor; here he was pennilness. He would have to steal an orange; if he Nwre caught, he would throw it back to the stallkeeper. Wladek walked to the other end of the market place in the same way as Stefan had done, but he couldn't imitate the swagger, and he didn't feel the same confidence. He chose the end stall and when he was sure no one was watching, he picked up an orange and started to run. Suddenly there was uproar. It seemed as if half the city were chasing him.

A big man jumped on the limping Wladek and threw him to the ground. Six or seven people seized hold of different parts of his body while a larger group thronged around as he was dragged back to the stall. A policeman awaited them. Notes were taken, and there was a shouted exchange between the stall owner and the policeman, each man's voice rising with each new statement. The policeman then turned to Wladek and shouted at him too, but Wladek could not understand a word. The policeman shrugged his shoulders and marched Wladek off by the car. People continued to bawl at him. Some of them spat on him. When Wladek reached the police station, he was taken underground and thrown into a tiny cell, already occupied by twenty or thirty criminals; thugs, thieves or he knew not what. Wladek did not speak to them, and they showed no desire to talk to him. He remained with his back to a wall, cowering, quiet, terrified. For at least a day and a night, he was left there with no food or light. The smell of excreta made him vomit until there was nothing left in him. He never thought the day would come when the dungeons in Slonim would seem uncrowded and peaceful.

The next morning Wladek was dragged from the basement by two guards and marched to a hall where he was lined up with several other prisoners. They were all roped to each other around the waist and led from the jail in a long line down into the street. Another large crowd had gathered outside and their loud cheer of welcome made Wladek feel that they had been waiting some time for the prisoners to appear. The crowd followed them all the way to the market place - screaming, clapping and shouting - for what reason Wladek feared even to contemplate. The line came to a halt when they reached the market square. The first prisoner was unleashed from his rope and taken into the centre of the square, which was already crammed with hundreds of people, all shouting at the top of their voices.