The Baby Experiment (10 page)

On the Road to Emden

“Good morning, Fraulein Eisen!” Mendoza said, as he entered the inn. “Mrs. de Pina is waiting outside in the carriage. Are you ready?”

“Yes, I am,” said Johanna, standing up and smoothing her dress.

As she struggled with her bag and the baby, Mendoza said, “Sam will help you.”

“Thank you,” said Johanna, handing her bag to Sam.

“We must go. Mrs. de Pina doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

Johanna paid for her room and said goodbye to Frau Hesse. She hurried out of the inn.

Sam tripped three times and dropped the bag once on their way out.
I'm glad I gave Sam my bag, and not the baby
. Mendoza helped Johanna into the carriage and Sam placed her bag at her feet.

The woman seated across from Johanna wore a dark woollen dress covered with a fur-trimmed travelling cloak. Her hair was streaked with grey, her eyes were dark brown, and her nose was long and straight. Her mouth was turned down in a disapproving frown.

“Mrs. de Pina,” Mendoza began, “allow me to introduce you to —”

Mrs. de Pina raised her eyebrows. “So, this is the young woman you told me about.”

“Fraulein Johanna Eisen.”

“I understand you wish to travel with me to Amsterdam?” Mrs. de Pina said.

“Yes, ma'am.” Johanna felt like a fish being inspected at the market. Rebecca kept wriggling about and tried to reach the swaying feather in Mrs. de Pina's hat.

“Why do you wish to go to Amsterdam, Fraulein Eisen?”

“To start a new life for myself and my ... baby sister.”

“A new life?”

“My parents died of the plague. And I heard there were jobs in Amsterdam for lace workers.”
I hate lying,
Johanna thought.

“Mendoza tells me you are Jewish.”

Johanna nodded.

Mrs. de Pina sniffed. “I am not acquainted with your family. I don't know you.”

“I don't know you, either,” Johanna said.

“You have spirit, fraulein.”

“My mother used to say that, too.” The thought of Mama almost made Johanna cry.

“Very well,” Mrs. de Pina said. She smiled a whisper of a smile. “This should be an interesting voyage.”

Mendoza tipped his hat. “I must go. I wish you a safe journey.”

“Be off then,” said Mrs. de Pina, waving him away. “But do take care. These are dangerous times.”

“Thank you again for your help, Mr. Mendoza,” said Johanna.

“You are most welcome,” said Mendoza. “Perhaps we shall see each other in Amsterdam?”

“I hope so,” said Johanna, blushing.

With these words, Mendoza closed the carriage door and shouted, “Driver, you may leave now!”

“Yes, sir!” the driver answered. He flicked the reins and the carriage began to move away from the inn.

“Benjamin Mendoza,” Mrs. de Pina said, “is a fine young man.”

Johanna nodded. She didn't want to show Mrs. de Pina how much she hoped to see him again. She busied herself with straightening Rebecca's clothes and settling her on her lap.

“Perhaps it will prove more interesting to talk with a woman for a change.” Mrs. de Pina cleared her throat. “The only thing men want to talk about is business. Do you not agree, Fraulein Eisen?”

“Yes ma'am. And politics.”

“Mind you, business is important. A person must make a living.” Mrs. de Pina sighed. “After my husband died ten years ago, I took over his business.” Rebecca was starting to fall asleep and she felt heavy in Johanna's arms.

“What kind of business is it?” asked Johanna. “I hope I'm not prying.”

“You are not.” Mrs. de Pina squared her shoulders. “I buy and sell goods.” She paused. “I enjoy going to fairs, but lately it has become more and more dangerous to travel.”

Johanna shuddered. “I know what you mean. We were attacked on the road by robbers.”

“Terrible! You were lucky to come away unscathed.”

Johanna touched her cheek. “Mr. Mendoza saved us.”

Mrs. de Pina gazed at Johanna. “You were fortunate. Do you object to a woman in business?”

“I've never thought about it, one way or the other.” Johanna swallowed hard. “Mama worked after Papa died and I have worked, too.”

“Where do you come from, fraulein?”

“Hamburg.” Johanna felt uncomfortable under Mrs. de Pina's scrutiny. She knew her clothes were wrinkled and dirty; she hadn't washed properly for days; she probably smelled like a sewer.

“I know what it is to be poor,” said Mrs. de Pina, as if reading Johanna's mind.

“You do?”

Mrs. de Pina nodded. “I come from a poor family. It was my good fortune to meet my husband, who made a good living. I worked with him while he was alive and learned the business well.” She pressed her lips together. “I decided a long time ago that I would never be poor or depend on my children in my old age.” Mrs. de Pina looked sharply at Johanna. “You said you make lace?”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Johanna.
I don't want to tell her about the orphanage. Not yet.

Mrs. de Pina nodded. “Honest work.”

“I think it's lovely that you have a business of your own.”

“My older children help me.”

“How many do you have?”

“I gave birth to ten. Six survived.”

Johanna gasped. Caring for only one baby was more work than she had ever expected.

Mrs. de Pina smiled. “Most of them are grown and married. However, I still have two at home, and that is a blessing.”

Johanna nodded. She could feel every lurch and bump as the carriage continued on its way. The bruise on her cheek was only one of the aches and pains she felt. She tried her best to hold Rebecca against her body; to shield the baby from the swaying and rocking of the carriage.

After an hour's travel, grey clouds gathered in a darkening sky. The wind began to lash the leaves in the trees. They were still far from Oldenburg when the first large drops of rain began to fall. The drops turned into torrents pelting the carriage without mercy. The wind rocked the carriage madly about.

They passed other struggling carriages on the road. Each time, they were forced to the side where the mud was thickest. Each time, Johanna prayed their carriage wouldn't overturn.

Why did I undertake this dangerous journey?
I want to be home again. I don't want to be a grownup; to be responsible for another human being.
She looked down at the baby. Her resolve strengthened.
This is reason enough — to save this child from almost certain death.

The driver urged the struggling horses through the thick mud. Several times, the carriage got stuck. Only with great effort was he able to free its wheels so they could continue on their way.

Johanna felt sick to her stomach. Mrs. de Pina's face looked pale in the dim light. Rebecca wailed with every clap of thunder and bolt of lightning. It took three endless hours to reach Oldenburg.

The driver finally stopped the carriage at an inn. He jumped down from his seat, opened the door, and shouted, “We'd better stop here till the storm lets up!” His hat and coat were soaked through.

“I agree,” said Mrs. de Pina. “We must stop or I feel my bones will break.”

They got down from the carriage and entered the smoky inn. After they had taken off their wet cloaks, they ordered a meal of bread, cheese, and fried onions. While they waited, they tried to warm themselves near the fire.

Johanna shivered. She felt as though she would never be warm or dry again. She fed Rebecca bread and warm milk, and finally the baby fell asleep.

After an hour, the rain stopped. “My mother used to say if the sky has enough blue in it to make a pocket handkerchief, then the rest of the day will be clear.”

“Let us hope she was right,” said Mrs. de Pina.

The driver wanted to stay in Oldenburg for the night, but Mrs. de Pina gave him an extra coin to continue on the road to Emden. He reluctantly agreed to take them, all the while uttering dire warnings.

They climbed back into the carriage. The road was muddy, but the spring sun and a brisk wind soon dried it up.

It took them the rest of the long day to reach Emden. It was already dark when the driver stopped at a small inn. Mrs. de Pina had booked a room there when she'd passed through on her way to the fair.

“At last,” Mrs. De Pina said, getting down stiffly from the carriage. “I cannot stand the jostling of this carriage for one more minute! Tomorrow, we shall book passage on a ship to take us across the sea to Amsterdam. With luck, we shall arrive there before the Sabbath.”

Johanna was grateful to get out of the carriage; to walk again on firm ground. Her damp clothes clung to her body, her hair was a tangled mess, and she desperately needed to go to the bathroom.

“The crossing is bearable,” said Mrs. de Pina. “But one must try not move from the time one leaves Emden until one arrives in Amsterdam.”

Johanna was too tired to care.

The Sea Passage

All kinds of sailing ships and fishing boats were anchored in the busy harbour. The piers were cluttered with wooden barrels, huge crates, and thick ropes coiled in neat circles. Sailors with heavy loads on their backs walked up and down gangways leading to the ships. Merchants haggled with each other as they stood on the wooden sidewalk. Passengers milled about, their trunks and bags at their feet.

Rebecca squirmed in Johanna's arms as she looked at the sky. A gull swooped onto the water and caught a fish in its beak. Rebecca raised her arm as she watched the bird fly away.

“Come,” said Mrs. de Pina. “We must buy our tickets.”

What if someone tries to stop me? We're still in Germany. What if I'm on a list of people the agent is supposed to look for?
She straightened her back and tried not to look as nervous as she felt. She paid for her ticket, her hands trembling and her legs shaking. She let out her breath when the transaction was finally done.

“Which ship is ours?” Johanna asked.

“The
Prince William
,” said Mrs. de Pina, pointing to a small, three-masted ship. “That kind of ship is known as a
fluyt
. It is named after William of Orange.”

“It's beautiful,” said Johanna. The ship was intricately decorated with carvings on its sides and stern. The two front sails were square; the sail near the stern was triangular.

“Welcome, ladies!” a voice boomed from the ship. A stocky man walked down the gangway. “I'm the first mate here. Name is Jon Visser. Can I see your tickets?”

After glancing at them, Visser nodded and handed the tickets back. “Follow me,” he said as he picked up their bags. “Your quarters are below deck, on the port side.”

“Port side?” asked Johanna.

“The left side, as you look forwards. Come along now. You're our only passengers and we must go.”

As soon as they were on board, the gangway was pulled up. Visser called, “Prepare the sail!” The men released the ropes tying the sails down. They filled with air and billowed in the wind.

Johanna struggled to keep a firm grip on the baby while she held onto a rope beside some narrow steps, which were almost like a ladder, leading down into the ship.

“Here we are,” said Visser, ducking under a doorway. They entered a small, immaculate room. Two beds were set into opposite walls; a small table was bolted to the floor; a lantern hung by a chain from a highly polished wooden ceiling.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Visser said. “We'll be on our way soon.”

“How long does the crossing take?” Johanna asked.

“About two days.”

“Two days!” Johanna gazed at the water through the small porthole. It seemed wide and deep and endless to her.

“Of course,” Visser said. “What did you think?”

Johanna didn't have an answer.

“Don't worry,” he said. “The weather is clear. We should reach Amsterdam by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you,” said Mrs. de Pina. “We shall be fine.”

“Have a good crossing then.” Visser nodded and left the room. It seemed much bigger after he had gone.

Johanna sat on the narrow bed and held Rebecca on her lap. She named the things she touched — “table,” “diaper,” “cup.” The baby followed her movements carefully and listened whenever she spoke.

Then Johanna pointed to herself and said, “Mama.” The word came out of her mouth without thinking. But once out, it felt right.

“Mama,” she repeated, hugging Rebecca to her chest.

“You are my child now,” she whispered. “Not by birth, but because I saved your life. And because I love you.”

The ship gave a sudden lurch. Johanna grabbed the table with one hand while she held onto Rebecca with the other. She heard the creak of the masts and felt the swaying of the ship as it sailed out of the harbour and into the open sea.

“Time to lie down,” said Mrs. de Pina. She hung her hat on a hook and lay down on one of the beds.

“So early in the day?”

“Yes. Try not to move until we arrive, or you will be sick.” Mrs. de Pina closed her eyes.

Johanna wanted to lie down, but Rebecca was looking at everything and squirmed in her arms.

The ship bucked and rolled and swayed as it made its way to the North Sea. It seemed to move in all four directions at once. The further the ship travelled, the worse Johanna felt. Her breakfast rose in her throat. She put Rebecca on the bed, and scarcely reached the bucket in time.

When there was nothing more to vomit, Johanna's chest kept heaving anyway. Her legs were shaking and her skin was clammy. Rebecca pointed to the bucket. Despite her nausea, Johanna said “bucket,” laughing through her groans.

After an hour, Mrs. de Pina croaked, “Fraulein Eisen, I need you.” Her face was pale and her hands trembled.

Johanna staggered over to Mrs. de Pina. “How can I help?”

“I cannot stand,” Mrs. de Pina said. “Bring the bucket to me.”

Her head spinning, Johanna hauled the bucket to Mrs. de Pina's bed. The older woman retched into it. When she was done, she lay back on her bed, gasping for air.

Johanna searched in her bag and found a glass bottle of water she had filled at the inn. She soaked a clean handkerchief in water and laid the cool cloth on Mrs. de Pina's head.

“Thank you, my dear,” said Mrs. de Pina, as she closed her eyes.

Just then, the ship swayed to one side. Johanna lost her balance and was thrown to the other side of the room. Rebecca bumped her head on the wall. She howled and tears flowed down her cheeks.

Johanna tried to comfort her; tried not to retch and gag; tried not to vomit again. She sat on the bed, holding and rocking Rebecca until at last the baby quieted down. For the rest of the day, her attention was divided between helping Mrs. de Pina and seeing that the baby came to no further harm.

In the evening, someone knocked on the door. From her bed, Johanna called, “Who is it?”

A young boy entered the room. He carried a tray which he placed on the table. “I've brought a light supper for you, ladies.” He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe I'd better take this bucket and bring you an empty one.”

Johanna and Mrs. de Pina groaned.

Johanna raised herself from the bed and staggered out to the water closet in the hall. After she had relieved herself, she made her way back to the sour-smelling room. She was grateful that Rebecca was finally asleep. She lifted the cloth that covered the tray and poured a cup of steaming coffee.

She sipped the coffee, savouring the warmth of the liquid as it slid down her throat.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Johanna said.

Mrs. de Pina sat up and stretched. “I shall try,” she said, as she grasped the cup with shaking fingers. She patted her dress, now dirty and wrinkled. “My dear, I wonder if I look as badly as I feel.”

“No one can look as bad as I,” said Johanna.

“Then we certainly are a pair!” said Mrs. de Pina. “I have taken this sea passage many times, but this is one of the worst.”

“I didn't expect it to be such an ordeal.”

“Ah well,” said Mrs. de Pina. “One night and it will be over.”

“That won't be soon enough for me!”

“Let us try to sleep now,” said Mrs. de Pina. “The night will pass more quickly.”

Johanna wondered if morning would ever come. From time to time, she tried giving Rebecca something to drink to keep her from disturbing Mrs. de Pina. Finally, when light began to seep in through the porthole, Johanna fell asleep.

She woke up to the sound of the ship's bell clanging to announce their arrival in Amsterdam. She felt like a limp, smelly dishrag — all wrung out and badly needing a wash.

Mrs. de Pina stretched and rose unsteadily to her feet. “I shall arrange for the man to bring our bags.”

Johanna picked up the baby and followed Mrs. de Pina up the narrow steps and down the gangway to the pier. She was grateful for the fresh air and the breeze playing around her skirts.

She followed Mrs. de Pina to a building marked
ARRIVALS
. They made their way to an office near the front door. A thin, stooped man was seated at a desk. His quill was busy scratching on some papers. He looked up from his work. “Yes?”

“We have just arrived on the
Prince William
,” said Mrs. de Pina.

Johanna's heart was pounding.
What if this man turns me back? Where will I go? What will I do?
She tried to breathe slowly; to control the panic she was beginning to feel.

“I must examine your papers,” said the man reaching his hand out. “Kindly show them to me.”

Mrs. de Pina reached into her bag and handed her papers to the man. He scrutinized them. “Why did you leave the Netherlands?”

“I went to Germany on business,” Mrs. de Pina said.

The man raised his eyebrows. “A woman alone?”

Mrs. de Pina drew herself erect. “Yes. And why not?”

“No reason, ma'am,” said the man hastily. “Only it is rather unusual.”

“Indeed,” said Mrs. de Pina, a faint smile on her lips.

The man shuffled his papers. “What is your permanent address?”

“I reside in Amsterdam. Jodenbreestraat, number 136.”

“These seem to be in order.” The man stamped and signed the papers, before handing them back to Mrs. de Pina. “Your turn, young lady,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Here, give me the baby,” said Mrs. de Pina. Johanna handed Rebecca to her, loosened her bag, and found the papers. With trembling fingers, she handed them to the man.

He looked at Johanna. “You are a native of Hamburg?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But, look here,” the man said. “These are only travelling papers. You are not a citizen of Hamburg?”

“No, sir. I am Jewish. We are not allowed to become citizens.” Johanna could feel her face getting red.

“I see.” The man pursed his lips. “And why have you come to Amsterdam?”

“To work.”

“You have a family here? A place to live?”

Johanna swallowed hard. “No, but —”

“But what?” The man crossed his arms and leaned back against his chair. “The law is very clear. You are not allowed to enter the Netherlands without a job or family. You will have to —”

Johanna's legs shook.
Will I be turned back when I am so close?

“I have a job,” she blurted out. She looked over at Mrs. de Pina and hoped the woman would understand. “I work for Mrs. de Pina.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Is that right?”

“Certainly. She is in my employ. She will work in my house.”

Mrs. de Pina and Johanna shared a look of quiet understanding. Rebecca held out her arms and Johanna took the baby back. She snuggled against Johanna, sighed, and closed her eyes.

“I see.” The man narrowed his eyes. “You will guarantee she will not become the responsibility of the state?”

“Yes, of course,” said Mrs. de Pina.

“You must fill out a form,” he said, riffling through the papers on his desk. “Now where did I put it?” At last, he pushed a paper towards them. “Here it is,” he said. He pointed to the baby. “Whose baby is that?”

“She's mine,” said Johanna, holding Rebecca tightly to her chest.

“And her papers? Where are they?”

“She … doesn't have any,” said Johanna. “Our parents died, and I'm the only one she has left. Please ….”

Mrs. de Pina said, “She will be my responsibility as well. Give me the papers. I will sign for the baby, too.”

“Very well, then,” said the man, as he searched for another form. Mrs. de Pina sat down at a table nearby and filled out both papers. When she had finished, the man looked them over, stamped and signed Johanna's papers, and handed them back to her. Johanna clutched them tightly in her hand.

The man smiled and said, “Welcome to the Netherlands.”

“Thank you!” said Johanna, breathing a sigh of relief.

They hurried outside the office to an area where carriages were waiting for passengers. “Come quickly,” said Mrs. de Pina. “It will be the Sabbath soon. We must get home before sunset.”

Mrs. de Pina hired a carriage and they settled into their seats. “Driver, take us to Jodenbreestraat, number 136.”

“Yes, ma'am!”

“And please hurry!”

Johanna breathed deeply until she felt her heart beating normally again. The baby had fallen asleep, her head on Johanna's arm. Her diaper was wet, but Johanna didn't want to disturb her. Besides, she felt so worn out, she could scarcely move.

“I do detest these border crossings,” said Mrs. de Pina, smoothing out her dress and re-tying the ribbons under her hat.

“Mrs. de Pina, did you mean it?” Johanna said. “About my working for you?”

“Yes, why not? I see you are good with children and skilful with your hands.” She paused. “I am grateful for your help during the crossing.” She put her hand on Johanna's arm and smiled. “My dear, I am willing to try you out. That is, if you are willing to try
me
out!”

“Thank you. Thank you so much!”

“Then it is settled.” Mrs. de Pina looked sharply at Johanna. “Rebecca isn't really your sister, is she?”

“No, but she is very precious to me.”

“I can see that.” Mrs. de Pina paused. “I believe it is time you told me the truth. Do you not agree?”