Sorry to be complaining so much. I guess that’s the thing about writing. Once you start, all kinds of thoughts and feelings spill out! But I did keep the best news for last—the other day I was roaming the aisles of the ship and heard what sounded like mooing. I followed the sound and found stables filled with cows, sheep, and goats. It felt as if I’d stumbled onto Noah’s ark! I greeted the animals and they looked at me with the saddest eyes. Then I heard footsteps coming up behind me. It was a young sailor I’d seen mopping the floors in steerage. His name is Casper and he’s Dutch but speaks some Polish. I thought he’d scold me, but instead he smiled.
“Do you like the animals?” he asked.
“Yes,” I told him. “And I feel sorry they can’t wander around the ship. They must hate being trapped in here. They don’t see the light of the sun. Poor things.”
“I know what you mean. They suffer during the journey. But please don’t tell anyone you have seen the animals. It is a secret they are down here.”
He let me help him arrange fresh hay for the cows, goats, and sheep.
Then Casper showed me a picture of his wife that he keeps in his pocket. He held his palm against his heart to show me how much he misses her. The life of a sailor and his wife must be difficult, being far apart for so long. Now I too am like a sailor, far from everyone I love.
I would be so miserable on this ship if not for Casper letting me come back each day to help with the animals. There’s a soft, cuddly baby lamb that I get to hold as long as I like. When I hug the lamb, I realize how much I miss you, sweet sister, and my beloved bubbe. And I miss my dear angry mother and even my brothers, who might miss me a little? With the baby lamb in my arms, I have faith I will make it to dry land and you’ll hear good news from me.
Your older sister,
who loves you very much,
ESTHER
PORT OF MÉRIDA
February 1, 1938
Dearest Malka,
A cry of joy rose from the deck when we approached land! I rushed to join Rita and her friends as they gathered around the railing. Today I will see Papa, I thought. Today I will kiss his cheek and feel the tickle of his dark beard. Today I will begin a new life in Cuba! But then I learned we had arrived in Mexico first, not in Cuba, as everyone had expected. The port city I was seeing was Mérida, not Havana. How much longer would I have to wait to be reunited with Papa? Why must everything take so long?
I pushed past people to return to steerage, where I could sulk by myself. On my way, I bumped into the kind old couple who had shared their herring and potatoes with me in Rotterdam. They both looked pale and weakened from the journey, even though they had made the voyage in first class.
“One more day on this rotten ship and I would not have survived,” the old woman moaned.
The old man added, “A day is a lifetime, and being on the ship for all these days felt like I used up several lifetimes.”
“But wasn’t it worth it?” I asked them. “You will see your children at last!”
The old woman looked so sad. “Of what use will we be to them? I hope we are not a burden. But we are here and there is no turning back now.”
“I am certain your children love you deeply and are waiting eagerly to place a kiss on your cheeks. Your presence will be a blessing to them,” I said.
The old man smiled. “You are very wise for such a young girl. And I see you have no bitterness in your heart.” He reached inside his black suit and pulled out a gold pocket watch.
The old woman gasped. “Hershel, what are you doing?”
“I know what I am doing, Bluma,” he replied sharply. Then he turned to me. “Child, this is my gift to you. I know our paths will never cross again. We will stay in Mexico and you will go on to Cuba. But even long after you have forgotten our chance encounter, hold on to this watch, and may it bless you with many hours of happiness and hope.”
I hesitated to accept such a precious gift. “Thank you, but if I take this from you, how will you tell the time?”
He pressed the pocket watch into my hand. “Child, you cannot refuse this gift. I want you to have it. I am old and do not have many years left. You have all the time in the world before you.”
I stared at the Roman numerals, then I closed the clasp. It’s good I wear dresses with deep pockets on both sides. I slipped the watch into my right pocket to have it handy. When I looked up, the old man and his wife had disappeared into the crowd.
One by one, all the passengers got off in Mérida. Rita was the last to leave, and I gave her a hug. She was so afraid of what her fiancé would think of her. I hope she won’t end up like a stray dog roaming the streets of Mexico.
I returned to steerage, until a policeman came to check if anyone was still on board. When he spotted me in my berth, he said, “Vamos.”
I didn’t know what that meant, so I shook my head and said, “Cuba, Cuba.”
He laughed and said, “México, México.” I showed him my ticket, pointed to where it said Cuba.
He sighed and walked away, then came back with Casper. Between the two of them, they explained: The animals are going on to Cuba, and I would be the only human passenger going with them. We’d set sail the next day. “Mañana,” as the policeman said. Tomorrow.
I felt such desperation all alone on the ship, wanting so badly to get off and set foot on dry land. I cannot describe how huge my sorrow was that day. May you never know such sorrow, dear Malka, to be so far from everyone you care about.
Soon after, Casper returned with fresh hay for the animals, and he brought me a marvelous gift—a cluster of bananas! He saw me about to bite into the thick yellow outer crust and quickly stopped me and showed me how to peel it and eat only the soft, creamy fruit inside. It was delicious! I couldn’t stop and ate one after another. The bananas filled me up, and I thought if there were nothing else to eat ever again, I could live on bananas for a long time.
With love always from your older sister,
ESTHER
PORT OF HAVANA
February 4, 1938
Dearest Malka,
I awoke and it was still dark out. I looked in on the animals. They were sleeping peacefully, except the lamb, who looked up at me and seemed to say, “We’re almost there.”
I washed up and then packed my things and put on the dress that was a little cleaner, tucking the pocket watch away on the right side. I wanted to be ready to dash into Papa’s arms as soon as we docked in Havana.
I climbed to the deck and looked out at the sea. The air was warm and comforting like a bowl of soup. There was the slightest sliver of a moon. Then I heard wings flapping. I heard that wistful song and knew it was a seagull. A Cuban seagull! I could not yet see firm land, but I was getting closer. The seagull had come to tell me.