I Am David (3 page)

The noise of the engines woke David, but not until the ship was well under way did he lose the strange dream-like sensation that had been with him ever since the moment in the van when he had suddenly recalled Johannes. Then he knew what had happened. Sitting bolt upright on his sack, his eyes at first wide open and then closed in the darkness, he knew that Johannes was no longer with him — he had stayed behind in Salonica!

David struggled with all his might against the fear that grew within him. He told himself over and over again, “He promised nothing more: he only said he would stay with me till we got to Salonica.”

But it did not help. All the coldness and darkness and infinite loneliness of the world filled David’s mind until it seemed ready to burst. then he knew no more.

And so the days passed. David lost count of them, for it was dark all the time and there was nothing to distinguish day from night. Once when he woke he picked up the strange bottle by mistake for his own, and after that he took a drink from it every time staying awake any longer grew too much for him, for he discovered that drinking from it very soon made him feel sleepy. It tasted good, too — a little strong perhaps but not unpleasant — and then he could sleep a while longer.

Sometimes he told himself that he had only to scramble over to the door, open it and go up the steps till he met someone — and all his troubles would be over. He wished desperately that he could stop being alive … but his feet would not budge, his legs refused to carry him the little distance he had to go before he could give himself up. He wanted to do it, but his body would not take him.

When at last he was discovered, he was taken completely by surprise: he woke up to hear a voice just above his head saying, “Mamma mia, what are you doing here?”

David jumped up like lightning, but made no attempt to run. The man had very black hair, like all Italians. “Nothing,” answered David in Italian.

The sailor opened his mouth to shout — but thought better of it and instead scrambled over to the door and shut it. Then he came back. He was not sure why he did this. Perhaps because the boy was so quiet — a very thin, very dirty boy who stood as still as death and who had the calmest face he had ever seen.

He ought to call someone and get the boy hauled up into the light of day. Then, by the light of his torch, he looked down into the boy’s strange dark eyes and knew he could not. Because that was just what those eyes expected him to do. The Italian sailor tried to shake off the feeling that the boy was going to die. His grandmother’s eyes had looked like that the day before she died. But he might be wrong, of course: for one thing his grandmother’s eyes had been brown and this boy’s were — well, it was not easy to see in that dim light — very dark grey, perhaps, or green.

So he said the first thing that entered his head. “Have you been drinking my wine?”

“Yes. I’d no more water in my bottle. I didn’t know it was wine. Thank you.”

The Italian shook his curly black head. Never had he met such a child! “First he swigs my wine without knowing what it is, and then he thanks me for it as if it weren’t sheer robbery!” And he was so quiet. A boy caught when he was up to mischief usually made off as fast as his legs would carry him … turned and twisted and looked all round for a way of escape. He did not just stand still and look you in the face!

“Where did you think you’d get to?” he asked helplessly.

“To Italy.”

“Hm. Well, I suppose I shall have to hand you over to the captain …”

But the Italian knew very well that he would not be able to. “I don’t think you’re all there,” he said. He dare not lay hands on him: he could not bring himself to do it. “On the other hand, we shall be in Salerno this evening. It’s hardly worth the trouble of dragging you along to the captain and having all the fuss … You can jump overboard just before we get in, and then I shan’t have had anything to do with it … I’ll see about getting you out of here.”

“I can’t swim,” the boy said quietly.

“Mamma mia! Then you aren’t all there! I won’t have anything to do with it. I’ll give you a lifebelt and you must try to drift ashore.”

“Thank you.”

The Italian went his way shaking his head.

David slept no more. He was hungry — but then he had been hungry the last four times he had wakened — and he had run out of food. That was a strange man. It was really very kind of him not to let the captain arrest him; he could not know that David was so tired he could hardly hold out any longer. And now he must take to the water! He did not know anything about lifebelts, but the Italian seemed to think he could drift ashore in one. So perhaps he would run on his way for yet another night, perhaps several nights, before they finally caught up with him.

But although David felt certain he knew what the end would be, his body set about getting him ready. Automatically he stuffed his ragged shirt into his no less ragged trousers, tied his bundle securely and sat down to wait.

It was some time before the man returned. When he did come, David made no move. Perhaps the sailor had had second thoughts about the lifebelt … but David was beyond caring.

The Italian had brought the lifebelt, however, and a piece of bread as well. David ate half of it on the spot while the man was showing him how to use his arms to make sure he drifted in the right direction. David watched and realized he would be almost up to his neck in water. He frowned — the talk about direction had put him in mind of his compass … suppose getting wet were bad for it? He had better tie his bundle round his neck, like that.

The man lowered him over the side of the ship on the end of a rope and told him not to splash about in the water until the ship was some way off, otherwise he might be heard. The water was not particularly cold. David looked back at the ship as it sailed swiftly on. For a moment he thought he was going to drown … it might very well be an easy way of sending people to their death, a belt like that … It looked like a car-tyre, he thought. But he did not drown, and he found it was not even necessary to fling his arms about as he had been told to do, for the ship had created a strong wash that drove him nearer and nearer to the dark line of the coast.

But before long David realized it was not quite so easy … Several hours passed before he touched land, and by that time he was so cold it might have been the depth of winter and so exhausted he was quite incapable of feeling: only his feet had the will to carry him farther.

David stumbled, staggered, crawled: onwards in the darkness, uphill all the time, the going hard and stony: it must be a mountain slope … Then he came to a road and staggered across it without even remembering to see if there were people about … then farther uphill where something was growing in low straight lines … then over another stretch of mountainside with hard sharp-edged stones that hurt his feet. And then he could go no farther.

But there was no one to disturb his sleep that night, and when he woke he was no longer tired. He was not even cold — he was pleasantly warm, in fact. He lay awake for a while with his eyes shut, basking in the warmth of his own body while he listened as usual for sounds about him. But all was quiet. Then opening his eyes he sat up and looked.

David was familiar only with various tones of grey and brown, and of course the blue of the sky. Well, yes, he had once seen a little red flower that had strayed inside the camp wall. Apart from that, colour was something he had only heard of: he had seen only a pale and muddied reflection of it — in the ugliness of the camp and the equally ugly quarters of the guards.

He did not know how long he stayed there on the mountainside, sitting motionless, just gazing … only when everything grew strangely misty did he discover that he was crying.

Far below him lay the sea, a sea bluer than any sky he had ever seen. The land curved in and out along its edge: in and out, up and down, all green and golden, with here and there the red of flowers too far off to be clearly seen. Down by the sea a road ran along the foot of the mountain, and near it lay villages whose bright colours gleamed dazzlingly. there were trees with many changing tints of green, and over it all shone the warming sun — not white-hot and spiteful and scorching, as the sun had shone upon the camp in the summertime, but with a warm golden loveliness.

Beauty. David had once heard Johannes use the word. It must have been something like this he meant … perhaps that was why he had come back and gone with him to Salonica, so that he, David, could sail across the sea till he came to a place where things were beautiful.

His tears continued to flow, faster and faster, and he brushed them angrily away so that the mist before his eyes should not veil that beauty from him.

Suddenly he knew that he did not want to die.

He did not want to be caught, he did not want to die. His legs had carried him to the place where the van stood waiting, and when the weight of loneliness had grown too much for him Johannes had kept him company to Salonica. the strange man with the black head of hair had helped him to reach land with a lifebelt. And now that he had learned about beauty he wanted to live …

For a long time David continued to sit and gaze upon the beautiful scenery that lay before him. He looked again and again upon the blueness of the sea, upon the coastline curving along its shore: he saw the colours of the landscape, its many kinds of green intermingled with gold and red, fade into one another towards the horizon until everything melted into the blue of sea and sky far away over the mountains.

David looked down at his own hand lying in the grass and knew at once what he was going to do first. The grass was green although summer was far advanced; there must be water not very far away.

He looked first at the sun, then at his compass, and then at the sun again: it was very early … he still had a good hour before he need find a hiding-place for the day. He took hold of his bundle and jumped up. And there was water: a lazy little brook glinting in the sunlight in the midst of a much wider riverbed which wound among trees and bushes where he could hide if anyone came along. David had his clothes off in no time: he had only a shirt and a pair of trousers kept up with string. He laid his trousers in the water and put a stone on top to prevent them from floating away. Then he soaked his shirt thoroughly and opened his bundle.

He stood there a moment, soap in hand. Sometimes when they first arrived in camp they were quite white and clean all over with no smell about them … He hardly dared try — then he made an attempt, beginning with his hands.

It worked … almost. David scrubbed away until he was in a sweat; he picked up his shirt to rub himself with and then he got on much better. He really thought dirt was much more difficult to get off. Then he remembered the sea: being wet through all night must have helped considerably. His head was a bit of a problem, but David would not give up: he was going to get all that dirt off, all that reminded him of the camp and smelt of it.

He lay right down, dipping his head in the water so that his hair was thoroughly wet, rubbed soap all over it until his arms grew tired, then ducked again and rubbed away with his shirt until his hair no longer felt sticky. He turned cold but he took no notice; his one thought was to be quite, quite clean. His shirt gradually took on a brighter colour, and then he set about his trousers as well. They, too, became brighter. Finally he sat down with his knife and whittled away at a twig until he had a sharp point of clean wood. He pricked himself a couple of times in the process, but in the end even his toenails were clean.

The sun glistened on a drop of water as it fell from his hand to his knee. David wiped it off but it left no tide-mark: there was no more dirt to rub away. He took a deep breath and shivered. He was David. Everything else was washed away, the camp, its smell, its touch — and now he was David, his own master, free — free as long as he could remain so.

David took a look round — it would not do to go on sitting where he was. A little higher up the hill he caught sight of a house among the trees, and a little farther down lay the road. There would soon be people about and he must first find a safe hiding-place.

He followed the stream a little way, then turned off and went straight down towards the coast. The going was steep, but David’s thick soles were used to finding places where he could get a good foothold, and his body was lithe and quick and he found no difficulty in keeping his balance. Just before he came to the road he stopped irresolutely: he could hide in the undergrowth down there. But that meant he would have to lie flat all day, and when he was not sleeping it would be very irksome to lie in roughly the same position all the time.

Now that he was close to the road, he could see that there were houses at regular intervals along both sides of it — not right on it, but a little above or below with gates leading on to it. Beautiful houses, pink and pale yellow and white, with gaily painted doors and green trees and climbing plants growing on their walls. But where there were houses there were people.

A little farther on the ground fell away so steeply from the road that there were no houses for some distance … it looked as if he would have to cross over.

His heart began to beat quickly. The road wound among the hills and you could not see much of it at one time because it kept bending sharply round the spurs. Even if he were certain the road was clear at the moment, someone might come along just as he began to cross. Not cars, nor people walking on the hard surface, for David’s hearing was good; but he would not be able to hear anyone walking on the grass verge until he was right on top of him. Was it all to last only a single morning, all the beauty, all his desire to live? Was it all to be taken from him again by a single stranger, now or in half an hour’s time?

But if he stayed where he was his danger would be just as great. Among the trees something was growing low on the ground in long rows: it must have been planted there to grow in such straight lines, and someone might come along to tend it. Something brightly coloured, not yellow nor red but both at once, caught his eye in the green grass. It was round and rather soft. David picked it up without thinking and walked the last few yards to the road.