David led her around the packed deck, stepping over the prostrate bodies. The children stared listlessly at her with dazed eyes. Their hair was matted and dirt caked their faces.
David led her down the steep ladder onto the hold. She nearly vomited as the stink enveloped her. In the half light she saw the ghastly sight of the children packed in shelves one atop the other.
On the deck of the hold they lay piled against each other. She found Karen in a corner, enmeshed in a tangle of arms and legs. Dov was asleep next to her. They lay on a pile of rags and the deck was slimy beneath them.
“Karen,” she whispered. “Karen, it’s me, Kitty.”
Karen’s eyes fluttered open. There were huge black circles beneath them and her lips were caked dry. She was too weak to sit up.
“Kitty?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
Karen held her arms open and Kitty held her tightly for many moments. “Don’t leave, Kitty. I’m so frightened.”
“I’ll be near,” Kitty whispered, releasing the girl.
She went to the hospital and examined the limited supply of drugs and sighed despondently. “There is very little that can be done,” she said to David. “I’ll try to make them as
comfortable as possible. Can you and Joab work with me?”
“Of course.”
“Some of those unconscious are in serious condition. We’ll have to try to sponge them to get their fevers down. It is chilly up on deck. We’ll keep them covered. Then I want everyone who is capable of working to get this ship clean.”
Kitty labored feverishly for hours to ward off death. It was like trying to fill an ocean with a thimble. As soon as one child was brought under control three more became seriously ill. She hadn’t the drugs, water, or other facilities to do very much. Food, the one weapon, could not be used.
Hunger Strike/Hour #81
Seventy children in coma lay on the deck of the Exodus.
On the quay of Kyrenia harbor there were angry grumbles of insubordination from the British ranks. Many of the soldiers could stand it no longer and asked to be removed, even at the risk of court-martial. The eyes of Cyprus fastened on Kyrenia.
Hunger Strike/Hour #82
Karen Hansen Clement was carried to the bow of the ship, unconscious.
Hunger Strike/Hour #83
Kitty walked into the wheelhouse and slumped exhausted into a chair. She had worked for thirty-five straight hours and her mind was muddled and dazed. Ari poured her a stiff brandy.
“Go on and drink,” he said. “You aren’t on strike.”
She swallowed it down, and a second drink brought her to her senses. She stared at Ari Ben Canaan long and hard. He was a powerful man. He showed almost no effects of the siege. She looked into his cold eyes and wondered what thoughts, what plots, what tricks were running through his brain. She wondered if he was frightened or even knew fear. She wondered if he was sad or shaken.
“I was expecting you to come up here to see me much sooner,” he said.
“I won’t beg you, Ari Ben Canaan. Ben Canaan and God … in that order … isn’t that right? Well, there are a dozen children on the verge of death. I am merely reporting to you like a good Palmachnik. They’re going to die, Mr. Ben Canaan. How do you rule?”
“I’ve been insulted before, Kitty. It doesn’t bother me. Is this humanity of yours so great that it cries out for all these children or does it appeal for the life of one child?”
“You have no right to ask that.”
“You are begging for the life of one girl. I am begging for the lives of a quarter of a million people.”
She rose. “I had better get back to work. Ari, you knew
why I wanted to come on board the Exodus. Why did you let me?”
He turned his back to her and looked from the window out to sea where the cruiser and destroyers stood watch. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”
Hunger Strike/Hour #85
General Sir Clarence Tevor-Browne paced up and down Sutherland’s office. The smoke from his cigar clouded the room. He stopped several times and looked out the window in the direction of Kyrenia.
Sutherland tapped out his pipe and studied the array of sandwiches on the tray on the coffee table. “Won’t you sit down, Sir Clarence, and have a bite to eat and a spot of tea?”
Tevor-Browne looked at his wrist watch and sighed. He seated himself and picked up a sandwich, stared at it, nibbled, then threw it down. “I feel guilty when I eat,” he said.
“This is a bad business to be in for a man with a conscience,” Sutherland said. “Two wars, eleven foreign posts, six decorations, and three orders. Now I’ve been stopped in my tracks by a band of unarmed children. A fine way to end thirty years of service, eh, Sir Clarence?”
Tevor-Browne lowered his eyes.
“Oh, I know you’ve been wanting to talk to me,” said Sutherland.
Tevor-Browne poured some tea and sighed, half embarrassed. “See here, Bruce. If it were up to me …”
“Nonsense, Sir Clarence. Don’t feel badly. It is I who feel badly. I let you down.” Sutherland rose and his eyes brimmed. “I am tired. I am very tired.”
“We will arrange a full pension and have the retirement as quiet as possible. You can count on me,” Tevor-Browne said. “See here, Bruce. I stopped over in Paris on my way here and I had a long talk with Neddie. I told her about your predicament. Listen, old boy, with some encouragement from you, you two could get together again. Neddie wants you back and you’re going to need her.”
Sutherland shook his head. “Neddie and I have been through for years. All we ever had between us that was meaningful was the Army. That’s what held us together.”
“Any plans?”
“These months on Cyprus have done something to me, Sir Clarence, especially these past few weeks. You may not believe this, but I don’t feel that I’ve suffered a defeat. I feel that I may have won something very great. Something I lost a long time ago.”
“And what is that?”
“Truth. Do you remember when I took this post? You told
me that the only kingdom that runs on right and wrong is the kingdom of heaven and the kingdoms of the earth run on oil.”
“I remember it well,” Tevor-Browne said.
“Yes,” Sutherland said, “I have thought so much about it since this Exodus affair. All my life I have known the truth and I have known right from wrong. Most of us do. To know l the truth is one thing. To live it… to create the kingdom of heaven on earth is another. How many times in a man’s life does he do things that are repulsive to his morality in order to exist? How I have admired those few men in this world who could stand up for their convictions in the face of shame, torture, and even death. What a wonderful feeling of inner peace they must have. Something that we ordinary mortals can never know. Gandhi is such a man.
“I am going to that rotten sliver of land that these Jews call their kingdom of heaven on earth. I want to know it all … Galilee, Jerusalem … all of it.”
“I envy you, Bruce.”
“Perhaps I’ll settle down near Safed … on Mount Canaan.”
Major Alistair entered the office. He was pale and his hand shook as he gave Tevor-Browne a note to read. Tevor-Browne read it and reread it and could not believe his eyes. “Great God, save us all,” he whispered. He passed the note to Bruce Sutherland.
URGENT
Ari Ben Canaan, spokesman for the Exodus, announced that beginning at noon tomorrow ten volunteers a day will commit suicide on the bridge of the ship in full view of the British garrison. This protest practice will continue until either the Exodus is permitted to sail for Palestine or everyone aboard is dead.
Bradshaw, with Humphrey Crawford and half a dozen aides, sped out of London to the quiet of a peaceful, isolated little house in the country. He had fourteen hours to act before the suicides on the Exodus began.