That Far Land We Dream About

When I think of the ways dreams shape our lives!.. All those years at home, working for the Bauers, working for Fraulein, I had a dream… I would fall in love with a good man, I would be married, I would have a family... I would have an easier life… As I made hats I day-dreamed about what a wonderful life I would have… And then I met you, Johann, and the dream became stronger… It seemed more real… I had found the man to love and to make a new life with… I was never so happy in my whole life… I felt like a swallow soaring and swooping through the sky; I felt like a rosebud opening into a beautiful fl ower… My dream was coming true! I know that you, Johann, had a strong dream too. You talked about your dream more than I did… You dreamed of becoming a strong grown man, making your own decisions, taking care of yourself,.. being free to guide your own life… That dream took you out of Endigen to work for Wagner…and brought you to me… That dream took us across the ocean to America… That dream took us to Helvetia. You wanted to be in a country being shaped by big dreams... Saving that dream even took you to the war…Everyone who stepped off that boat with us was following a dream. Instead of walking the same road for generation after generation people were making a new life… I can remember how excited you were telling me about Helvetia after your fi rst trip… You could hardly wait to get to the place where a whole new town was rising up from the forest… There would be a house of our own, there would be good jobs… and a chance to save enough to start your own business… I did ask you once if you weren’t afraid of waking up from your dream. The storm hit on Tuesday morning. The ship lurched and shivered as huge waves crashed across the deck. It was impossible to stand up without holding on to something. The forward motion of the ship was like going up and down steep hills. At the same time the deck rolled right, then left, then right again. After one particularly violent roll Marta screamed, “We’re going to turn over!” Johann saw her pale, contorted face and reached out to her. He put his arm around her, wondering if he was trying to comfort her or to be comforted. He had never been so frightened in his life. Nausea was being replaced by sheer terror. The waves smashing into the hatch cover above the steerage area caused a steady stream of dripping water onto their deck. The poor folk who were quartered below the hatch scurried to protect their belongings from the shower of sea water. Rivulets ran across the deck through the cubicles. Klaus and Johann tried to rearrange their wall of boxes to withstand the pitching of the ship. They took down the trunks from their pile and put them into the foot end of their bunks. They pried a couple of boards off the top of the closest partition and slid them under the large boxes at the base of their wall of baggage. This might be enough to raise them above the trickle of water coming from the leaking hatch cover. Th e cooking and eating utensils rolled around beneath the lower bunks, together with their chamber pots. They were surrounded by incessant noise: the ferocious howling of the wind, the explosion of the waves over the deck, the creaking and groaning of the ship as if it were in pain, the thump of falling boxes, the clatter of metal pots, the crying of frightened children, the sounds of people retching into their pails. “Watch out. Our cooking pot is floating away.” Filled with despair his wife answered, “Let it go. We’re lost. We won’t need it any more.” The few people who tried to move around staggered like drunks. A few tried to get to the latrines or to fi nd some place where there was a little fresh air. Th e stench became overpowering on the steerage deck, compounding the violent motions of the ship. Th ere seemed to be no way for getting relief; standing up or lying down made little diff erence. Th e few brave souls who had ventured up to the door leading to the deck above reported that the waves were as tall as a house, that at times it seemed like the ship was between two tall gray walls. Most of the people took off their shoes and stockings to keep them dry. Men rolled up their trousers and women hitched up their skirts, because rivulets of water sloshed to and fro across the deck as the ship rolled. A few took off almost all their clothes, thinking that in the dim light of a few lanterns on their hooks above their near-nudity was hardly observable. Their neighbors reproached them, saying, “Put on some clothes. You don’t want to meet your Maker without any clothes on.” Johann tried to encourage Marta. “After that last storm I saw Alfred, that Negro sailor I met in Southampton. He said that that storm wasn’t really a bad storm.” “I wonder what he thinks about this one. I’ll bet he’s as scared as we are. Sailors know that ships are wrecked and sink to the bottom of the ocean.” Johann tried to be reassuring. “Alfred told me that a well-built ship like the Indiana can make it through very big storms. He said that before a ship like this turned over the masts would snap off . Th at hasn’t happened.” “But that could happen!” “You remember in the English Channel, we saw how when it gets very windy, those sailors climb up in the rigging and take in all the sails. Th at’s one advantage of being on a steam ship. Th ey can tie down the sails and keep moving with the engine. We’ll be all right.” “What would happen to little Karl if we were drowned?” “Quit talking like that. We’re not going to drown.” “I’m glad he isn’t with us. Listen to those poor kids crying. Th ey’re so scared. I don’t blame them one bit.” “Don’t worry. We’ll be all right. Th ese storms can’t last too long.” “How do you know? You’re just talking.” “Well, I can’t do anything about it. So I just have to think that the captain knows how to get the ship through the storm.” People in several of the cubicles had gotten their prayer books out of their baggage and were praying aloud. Some others were saying their rosaries. Voices called on the saints and the Virgin Mary to preserve them. People were repenting aloud for their sins. Others made vows to be fulfi lled if they survived the storm. Johann thought, if Karl and Julius were here, they’d be praying mightily. He thought about the many Sundays looking at the bowed heads along the family pew, knowing that the family piety was not part of his life. It was so dark in the hold that night and day were pretty much the same. Mealtime was meaningless, since no one could bear the thought of eating. Johann looked at his watch in the dim light of the lantern that swung above them. “Do you know it’s nearly nine o’clock? We’ve been in this storm all day.”