Free Jacob's Way by Gilbert Morris Page B

bluest she had ever seen, and she wondered if all Americans had eyes like his. “It is very bad—the weather,” she said.
    â€œYes. The glass is falling.”
    Reisa grew confused. “The glass? It has fallen?”
    Carpenter smiled. “We have an instrument that we call the glass. It tells us when there’s going to be bad weather. So when we say ‘the glass is falling,’ we simply mean there’s a blow coming on.” Reisa hung on to the rail as the ship rose, heeled over, and then rolled to the other direction. “We will not zink?” she asked.
    â€œWe never have,” Carpenter replied, “and it’s called sink , not zink .” He looked out at the sea and the sky, and a worried expression swept across his lean young face. “I hope we don’t. I’d hate to die. My parents were religious, but I’m not.” He turned to face her fully, and his eyes were troubled. “I’m in no shape to meet God.”
    Reisa did not know what to say to this, and finally she said, “I pray that we will not sink—and that you will find God.”
    â€œThank you, Miss Dimitri. That’s a kind thought. You’d better go below. It’s going to get worse, and you’ll get soaked. I think we’ll probably take on some water.”
    â€œTake on some water? What means that?”
    â€œThat means when the waves get high enough they’ll break across the deck, and they’ll go down through those openings. In very bad weather, water will come down below.”
    Reisa was alarmed. “Water will come down where we are?”
    â€œYes. It’ll be very uncomfortable.” Carpenter nodded. “But don’t worry. It’ll drain down below the deck where you are, and the sailors will pump it out.”
    â€œWhat is ‘pump it out’ mean?”
    â€œIt means we have a—“ He struggled for the word. “We have a thing that will take the water out of the ship and put it back in the ocean. That way we will not sink as long as the pumps work.”
    Reisa nodded, understanding little of this. “I will go see to my grandfather.”
    She left Carpenter, who turned and went back toward the stern.
    When she reached her grandfather, she sat down beside him. “It is going to be a storm,” she said in English.
    Jacob was not as good at the new language as she was and had not picked up much English. “Very bad storm?” he said.
    â€œOne of the mens who drive the ship tells me that it will be. He was very nice.” She repeated her conversation, and then said, “He told me he was not ready to meet God.”
    â€œMost people are not,” Jacob said heavily.
    â€œThere are Christians on this ship going to America. They are going to make a new village or something like that.”
    â€œSo, it is not Jews only who flee for their lives but Christians also,” Jacob mused. “That is strange.” He looked at her, and in the darkness illuminated only by a few lanterns, her face seemed to glow. “Did you talk to any of them?”
    â€œNo. But they sang a song.” She repeated as many of the words as she could. “They sang very well,” she said. “They did not seem to be afraid.”
    Jacob leaned his head back against the wooden bulkhead and closed his eyes. “No man is so old that he thinks he may live another year,” he said. “People always get religious when danger threatens. Someone said if the devil got sick, he would become religious himself.” He continued to speak softly, and, as always, Reisa listened. His voice was quiet, and he showed no alarm as the ship pitched even more strongly, wallowing so wildly at times that the possessions of the passengers shifted and had to be replaced. “There is no way of knowing the time of one’s death, my Reisa. So the secret,” he murmured, “is to be ready at all