Free Leon Uris by Exodus

decks Mandria turned to Ari. “Armatau may be a Turk but he can be trusted.”
    “What kind of speed can we get out of this thing?” Ari asked.
    “Probably five knots—with a gale in her back. The Aphrodite is in no hurry.”
    They went on deck and looked over the topside. She was half rotted away and long past the time it would have paid to repair her. Yet, despite the obvious qualifications there was something very sound about her. A solid feeling that she knew the tricks of the sea and had won many battles against it.
    In a half hour David and Joab completed their inspection.
    “This ship is an absolute abortion,” David said, “but I am positive she’ll make it.”
    “Can we get three hundred aboard?” Ari asked.
    David rubbed his jaw. “Well ... maybe, with a shoehorn.”
    Ari turned to Mandria. “We will have a lot of refitting to do. Of course it is necessary that we don’t attract any attention.”
    Mandria smiled. He was in his glory now. “I have, as you may well know, very good connections. It is merely a matter of greasing the right palms and you can be sure that nothing can be seen, heard, or reported.”
    “David. Send a radio message to Palestine tonight. Tell them we need a captain and a two-man crew.”
    “Is a crew of three going to be enough?”
    “I might as well tell you. You two boys and Zev are coming back to Palestine with me on this mud scow. We’ll fill out the crew. Joab! You’ve always had a tendency toward mature women. Well, you’ve got one now. You’re in charge of getting this thing refitted and stocked up.” At last he turned to Armatau, who was still bewildered by Ari’s rapid fire questions and commands. “O.K., Armatau, you can breathe easy, you’ve sold us this monstrosity—but not at your price. Let’s go into the Four Lanterns and lock this up.”
    Ari jumped off the deck onto the pier and gave Mandria a hand. “David, you and Joab find your own way back to Famagusta. Mr. Mandria is driving me to Kyrenia after we finish our business.”
    “Kyrenia?” Mandria said, startled. “Doesn’t this man ever get tired? Kyrenia is on the other side of the island,” he protested.
    “Is something wrong with your automobile?” Ari asked.
    “No ... no ... we shall drive for Kyrenia.”
    Ari started off down the pier with Mandria and the Turk.
    “Ari!” David called, “what shall we name the old woman?”
    “You’re the poet,” Ari called back. “You name her.”
    Joab and David watched the three men disappear at the end of the pier. Suddenly they broke out in smiles and threw their arms about each other. “That son of a gun Ari! He picks a fine way to tell us we are going home.”
    “You know Ari. The scorner of sentiment and emotion,” David said.
    They sighed happily, and for a moment both thought about Palestine. Then they looked about the Aphrodite . She certainly was a sorry old girl.
    They walked around the deck examining the ancient hulk. “I’ve got a good name for her,” Joab said, “why don’t we call her the Bevin ?”
    “I’ve got a better name,” David Ben Ami said. “From now on she will be known as the Exodus .”

Chapter Nine
    M ARK PULLED THE RENTED CAR off the road and parked it. He had driven high up in the mountains directly over Kyrenia. An enormous jagged rock several hundred feet high rose to a peak before them. On the peak were the ruins of St. Hilarion Castle. It was a fairy castle, suggesting even in semicollapse the might and splendor of Gothic power.
    Mark took Kitty’s hand and led her over the field toward the peak, and they climbed the battlements until they stood on the lower wall and looked into the castle yards.
    They picked their way through royal apartments and great halls and stables and the monastery and fortifications. It was deathly silent, but the grounds seemed to be alive and breathing, with ghosts of the past whispering of another day filled with love and hate and war and intrigue.
    For almost an hour