Heads You Win

Sasha gripped his mother by the arms as they listened to the sound of nails being extracted one by one. Finally the lid was raised. They both took a deep breath, and looked up to see a short, scruffy man dressed in grubby overalls grinning down at them.

“Welcome aboard,” he said after checking to make sure the six cases of vodka were in place. “My name’s Matthews,” he added, before offering Elena his arm. She stretched stiffly for a moment before grabbing his arm and climbing unsteadily out of the crate. Sasha took the small suitcase and his lunch box, and handed them to Matthews before joining his mother.

“I’ve been told to take you both up to the bridge so you can meet Captain Peterson,” said Matthews, before leading them to a rusty ladder attached to the side of the hold.

Sasha picked up his mother’s case, and was the last to climb the ladder. With each rung, the sun shone brighter, until he was looking up at a cloudless blue sky. When he finally stepped out on deck, he paused for a moment to look back at the city of his birth for what he both hoped and feared would be the last time.

“Follow me,” said Matthews, as two of his crew mates began climbing down into the hold intent on claiming their bounty.

Elena and Sasha followed Matthews toward a spiral staircase that he began to climb without looking back. They quickly followed like obedient spaniels, and moments later stepped out onto the bridge, feeling slightly giddy.

The helmsman standing behind the wheel didn’t give them a second look, but an older man dressed in a dark blue uniform, with four gold stripes on the arm of his double-breasted jacket, turned around to face the stowaways.

“Welcome aboard, Mrs. Karpenko,” he said. “What’s the lad’s name?”

“Sasha, sir,” he replied.

“Don’t call me ‘sir.’ Mr. Peterson, or skipper, will be fine. Now, Mrs. Karpenko, your brother told me you’re a fine cook, so let’s find out if he was exaggerating.”

“She’s the finest cook in Leningrad,” said Sasha.

“Is she indeed? And what do you have to offer, young man, because this isn’t a pleasure cruise. Everyone on board has to pull their weight.”

“He can serve at table,” said Elena before Sasha had a chance to reply.

“That will be a first,” said the captain.

It certainly will, thought Sasha, who’d never been inside a restaurant in his life, and apart from clearing the table and washing up after supper, was rarely to be found in the kitchen.

“Is the cabin next to Fergal’s free, Matthews?” asked the captain.

“Yes, skipper, but it’s hardly big enough for two.”

“Then put the boy in with Fergal. He can sleep on the top bunk, and his mother can have the spare cabin. Once they’ve unpacked,” he added, glancing down at the small suitcase, “take them to the galley and introduce them to the cook.”

Sasha noticed that this statement brought a smile to the lips of the helmsman, although his eyes remained fixed on the ocean ahead.

“Aye, aye, captain,” said Matthews. Without another word he led his charges back down the spiral staircase and onto the main deck. Once again Sasha stared toward the distant horizon, but there was no longer any sign of Leningrad.

They followed Matthews back across the deck, and descended an even narrower staircase to the bowels of the ship. Their guide led them down a dimly lit corridor, coming to a halt outside two adjoining cabins.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping during the voyage.”

Elena opened the door of her cabin and looked up at a swinging bulb that threw a small arc of light onto a narrow bunk. The rhythmic thumping of the ship’s engine guaranteed that even if she hadn’t slept for the past week, she certainly wasn’t going to for the next one.

Matthews opened the next-door cabin. Sasha stepped inside to find a double bunk that took up almost the whole space.

“You’ll be on top,” said Matthews. “I’ll be back in half an hour, when I’ll take you up to the galley.”

“Thank you,” said Sasha, who immediately climbed onto the top bunk. It wasn’t any better than his bed in Leningrad. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d chosen the right crate.

*   *   *

“Now listen up,” someone shouted, “because I’m only going to say this once.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face the chef, who was standing in the center of the galley, hands on hips.

“We have a lady on board, and she’ll be working with us. Mrs. Karpenko is a trained cook, who has a great deal of experience, so you will treat her with the respect she deserves. If any one of you puts a foot out of line, I’ll chop it off and feed it to the seagulls. Do I make myself clear?” The nervous laughter that followed suggested that he did.

“Her son, Sasha,” continued the chef, “who is also traveling with us, will be assisting Fergal in the dining room. Right, let’s all get back to work. We have dinner to serve in a couple of hours.”

A thin, pale young man with a shock of red hair strolled across the galley and stopped in front of Sasha.