War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk Read Free Book Online

yellow flash.
    WHUMP!
    The engines pounded, the deck shivered and tilted, the vessel swerved. She hastily dressed, shuddering in the raw air. So small was the room that she barked elbows and knees on the cold-water basin, the bunk, and the doorknob. Aaron slept on. She would not wake him yet, she thought. He would only dither.
    At the porthole an enormous white
22
appeared, blocking off the black waves and the gray sky. The gun slowly moved forward into view — not very big, painted gray, manned by boyish sailors in black short raincoats. Both vessels were slowing. The gunners were looking at the
Redeemer
and laughing. She could imagine why: the motley paint job, patches of red primer, of white coat, of old unscraped rust; the extra fuel tanks, spread along the deck like bad teeth in an old man’s jaw. Outside harsh voices bawled back and forth in Italian.
    The deck trembled. The coast guard vessel fell away. Through the porthole Natalie saw the green crags of Capri and Ischia; then, swinging into view dead ahead, the hills of Naples, lined with white houses in wan sunlight. Through all this Aaron Jastrow slept. Turning back! She fell on the bunk, face down in the pillow. The trip she had been dreading now seemed a passage to lost bliss. The hunted feeling rose in her breast again.
    “My goodness, what a commotion!” Aaron poked his frowsy head out of the bunk. Sunshine was streaming through the porthole, and the crewmen were cheerily shouting and cursing outside. The
Redeemer
was tying up to the same wharf, with the same potbellied policeman in green patrolling it. “Why, it’s broad daylight. You’re all dressed. What’s happening? Are we leaving?”
    “We’ve left and returned. The coast guard stopped us.”
    Jastrow looked grave. “Oh dear. Two hundred dollars!”
    Rabinovitz came to their door, freshly shaved, in a stained dark suit, a gray shirt, a red tie. His face was set in hard angry lines, and he was holding out some American money. “I can only refund half, sorry. He wouldn’t leave the pier unless I advanced half. I had to gamble.”
    “You may need the rest,” Natalie said. “Keep it.”
    “If I need it, I’ll ask again.”
    Jastrow spoke from the upper bunk. “We’ve never discussed paying for our passage, you know, and —”
    Rabinovitz slapped the money into Natalie’s hand. “Excuse me. I’m going to bust in on that damned harbor master. We’re a neutral vessel. Wejust put in here for emergency repairs. Holding us up like this is a damned outrage!”
    They were having their noonday tea when Rabinovitz reappeared at their cabin door. “I was short-tempered this morning. Sorry.”
    “Come in,” Natalie said amiably. “Tea?”
    “Thanks. Yes. What’s the matter with your baby?” Louis was whimpering in his basket.
    “He caught a chill. Is there any news?”
    Rabinovitz squatted with his back to the door, holding the glass in two hands and sipping. “Dr. Jastrow, when we left Rome so suddenly, you seemed very upset about the manuscript you had to leave behind.”
    “I’m still upset. Four years of my life!”
    “What was the title of your book?”
    “The Arch of Constantine.
Why?”
    “In Rome, did you know anybody at the German embassy?”
    “The German embassy? Obviously not.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “I had nothing to do with the German embassy.”
    “You’ve never heard of a guy named Werner Beck?”
    “Werner Beck?” Jastrow repeated, half to himself. “Why, yes, I did know a Werner Beck, years ago. What about him?”
    “There’s a Dr. Werner Beck at the gangway. He’s one of the two Germans I saw in your hotel suite in Rome, when Rose and I went looking for you. He just drove up in a Mercedes. He says he’s from the German embassy in Rome, and he’s an old friend of yours. And he says he’s brought your manuscript of
The Arch of Constantine.
“
    In sober silence, broken only by the baby’s snorts and snuffles, Natalie and her uncle looked at each other.