Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Read online

  “Undo your trousers,” she whispered.

  He felt like an idiot but hurriedly undid them and thrust himself into the yielding softness, coming immediately, feeling the sticky wetness running down the inside of her thigh. He lay dazed, amazed by the abruptness of the act, suddenly aware that the wooden notches of the lifeboat were digging uncomfortably into his elbows and knees.

  “Was that the first time you’ve made love to a girl?” asked Zaphia, wishing he would move over.

  “No, of course not,” said Wladek.

  “Do you love me, Wladek?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said, “and as soon as I’ve settled in New York, I’ll come and find you in Chicago.”

  “I’d like that, Wladek,” she said as she buttoned up her dress. “I love you, too.”

  “Did you fuck her?” was George’s immediate question on Wladek’s return.

  “Yes.”

  “Was it good?”

  “Yes,” said Wladek, uncertainly, and then fell asleep.

  In the morning, they were awakened by the excitement of the other passengers, happy in the knowledge that this was their last day on board the Black Arrow. Some of them had been up on deck before sunrise, hoping to catch the first sign of land. Wladek packed his few belongings in his new suitcase, put on his only suit and his cap and then joined Zaphia and George on deck. The three of them stared into the mist that hung over the sea, waiting in silence for their first sight of the United States of America.

  “There it is!” shouted a passenger on a deck above them, and cheering went up at the sight of the gray strip of Long Island approaching through the spring morning.

  Little tugs bustled up to the side of the Black Arrow and guided her between Brooklyn and Staten Island into New York Harbor. The colossal Statue of Liberty seemed to regard them austerely as they gazed in awe at the emerging skyline of Manhattan, her lamp lifted high into the early morning sky.

  Finally they moored near the turreted and spired red brick buildings of Ellis Island. The passengers who had private cabins left the ship first. Wladek hadn’t noticed them until that day. They must have been on a separate deck with their own dining hall. Their bags were carried for them by porters and they were greeted by smiling faces at the dockside. Wladek knew that wasn’t going to happen to him.

  After the favored few had disembarked, the captain announced over the loudspeaker to the rest of the passengers that they would not be leaving the ship for several hours. A groan of disappointment went up and Zaphia sat down on the deck and burst into tears. Wladek tried to comfort her. Eventually an official came around with coffee, a second with numbered labels, which were hung around the passengers’ necks. Wladek’s was B.127; it reminded him of the last time he was a number. What had he let himself in for? Was America like the Russian camps?

  In the middle of the afternoon—they had been given no food nor further information—they were brought dockside to Ellis Island. There the men were separated from the women and sent off to different sheds. Wladek kissed Zaphia and wouldn’t let her go, holding up the line. A passing official parted them.

  “All right, let’s get moving,” he said. “Keep that up and we’ll have you two married in no time.”

  Wladek lost sight of Zaphia as he and George were pushed forward. They spent the night in an old, damp shed, unable to sleep as interpreters moved among the crowded rows of bunks, offering curt, but not unkind, assistance to the bewildered immigrants.

  In the morning they were sent for medical examinations. The first hurdle was the hardest: Wladek was told to climb a steep flight of stairs. The blue-uniformed doctor made him do it twice, watching his gait carefully. Wladek tried very hard to minimize his limp and finally the doctor was satisfied. Wladek was then made to remove his hat and stiff collar so that his face, eyes, hair, hands and neck could be examined carefully. The man directly behind Wladek had a harelip; the doctor stopped him immediately, put a chalk cross on his right shoulder and sent him to the other end of the shed. After the physical was over, Wladek joined up with George again in another long line outside the Public Examination room, where each person’s interview seemed to be taking about five minutes. Three hours later when George was ushered into the room, Wladek wondered what they would ask him.

  When George eventually came out, he grinned at Wladek. “Easy, you’ll walk right through it,” he said. Wladek could feel the palms of his hands sweating as he stepped forward.

  He followed the official into a small, undecorated room. There were two examiners seated and writing furiously on what looked like official papers.

  “Do you speak English?” asked the first.

  “Yes, sir, I do quite good,” replied Wladek, wishing he had spoken more English on the voyage.

  “What is your name?”

  “Wladek Koskiewicz, sir.”

  The men passed him a big black book. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Yes, sir, the Bible.”

  “Do you believe in God?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Put your hand on the Bible and swear that you will answer our questions truthfully.”

  Wladek took the Bible in his left hand, placed his right hand on it and said, “I promise I tell the truth.”

  “What is your nationality?”

  “Polish.”

  “Who paid for your passage here?”

  “I paid from my money that I earn in Polish consulate in Constantinople.”

  One of the officials studied Wladek’s papers, nodded and then asked, “Do you have a home to go to?”

  “Yes, sir. I go stay at Mr. Peter Novak. He my friend’s uncle. He live in New York.”

  “Good. Do you have work to go to?”

  “Yes, sir. I go work in bakery of Mr. Novak.”

  “Have you ever been arrested?”

  Russia flashed through Wladek’s mind. That couldn’t count. Turkey—he wasn’t going to mention that.

  “No, sir, never.”

  “Are you an anarchist?”

  “No, sir. I hate Communists—they kill my sister.”

  “Are you willing to abide by the laws of the United States of America?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you any money?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “May we see it?”

  “Yes, sir.” Wladek placed on the table a bundle of bills and a few coins.

  “Thank you,” said the examiner. “You may put the money back in your pocket.”

  The second examiner looked at Wladek. “What is twenty-one plus twenty-four?”

  “Forty-five,” said Wladek without hesitation.

  “How many legs does a cow have?”

  Wladek could not believe his ears. “Four, sir,” he said, wondering if the question were a trick.

  “And a horse?”

  “Four, sir,” said Wladek, still in disbelief.

  “Which would you throw overboard if you were out at sea in a small boat which needed to be lightened, bread or money?”

  “The money, sir,” said Wladek.

  “Good.” The examiner picked up a card marked “Admitted” and handed it over to Wladek. “After you have changed your money, show this card to the Immigration Officer. Tell him your full name and he will give you a registration card. You will then be given an entry certificate. If you do not commit a crime for five years and pass a simple reading and writing examination in English and agree to support the Constitution, you will be permitted to apply for full United States citizenship. Good luck, Wladek.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  At the money-exchange counter Wladek handed in eighteen months of Turkish savings and the three 50-ruble notes. He was handed $47.20 in exchange for the Turkish money but was told the rubles were worthless. He could only think of Dr. Dubien and his fifteen years of diligent saving.

  The final step was to see the Immigration Officer, who was seated behind a counter at the exit barrier directly under a picture of President Harding. W