Free Amerika by Franz Kafka

stiff gait, “but then I am indeed your uncle Jakob, and you are my beloved nephew. Just as I suspected all along,” he said to the captain before embracing and kissing Karl, who endured this display of affection in silence.
    Sensing that he had been released, Karl asked very politely yet also quite unmoved: “What’s your name?” At the same time he sought to predict the repercussions that this latest occurrence might have for the stoker. There was no sign just now that Schubal could profit from this affair.
    â€œTry, young man, try to understand your good fortune,” said the captain, who believed that the question that Karl had asked had offended the dignity of Mr. Jakob, who had gone to the window, evidently to avoid having to show his agitated face, which he even dabbed with a handkerchief. “The man who identified himself as your uncle is none other than State Counselor Edward Jakob. Probably very much in contrast to your previous expectations, you can now look forward to a dazzling career. Try to understand this as well as you can right now, and make an effort to pull yourself together.”
    â€œI do have an uncle Jakob in America,” said Karl, turning to the captain, “but if I understood you correctly, Jakob is just the state counselor’s family name.”
    â€œYes, that’s quite true,” said the captain expectantly.
    â€œWell, Jakob, my mother’s brother, has Jakob as a baptismal name whereas his family name would have to be identical to my mother’s, and her maiden name is Bendelmayer.”
    â€œGentlemen!” cried the state counselor, responding to Karl’s statement as he returned in good spirits from his refuge by the window. Everyone, aside from the harbor officials, burst out laughing, some as if moved, others rather inscrutably.
    What I said wasn’t all that ridiculous, Karl thought.
    â€œGentlemen,” the state counselor repeated, “you’re taking part in a little family scene, and I owe you an explanation, since I believe that only the captain”—this remark led to an exchange of bows—“has been fully informed about this.”
    â€œNow I’ll really have to pay attention to every word they say,” Karl said to himself, and he was pleased to see from a side glance that the stoker was beginning to show signs of life again.
    â€œThroughout all the long years of my American sojourn—but the word
sojourn
hardly suits the American citizen that I certainly am with all my soul—throughout all those long years I have lived completely cut off from my European relatives for reasons that are, first, beside the point and, second, too painful to disclose. I even fear the moment when I shall be compelled to disclose them to my dear nephew, for there’s unfortunately no way I can avoid saying a few frank words about his parents and their kin.”
    â€œHe is my uncle, there’s no doubt about it,” Karl said to himself, and he listened carefully. “He probably had his name changed.”
    â€œMy dear nephew was simply—let’s not shy away from the word that really describes what happened—was simply cast aside by his parents, the way one throws out a cat when it becomes annoying. I certainly don’t want to gloss over what my nephew did to merit that kind of punishment—one doesn’t gloss over things in America—but his guilt is such that merely identifying it is excuse enough.”
    That’s not bad at all, Karl thought. But I don’t want him telling everyone. Besides, how can he know? Who could have told him? But we’ll see, maybe he does know everything.
    â€œHe was, you see”—Karl’s uncle continued, and as he spoke he kept tilting forward a little on his small bamboo stick, which he had propped up before him, thereby managing to relieve the affair of a certain solemnity it would otherwise have assumed—“he was,