Heads You Win

Strelnikov focused on preparing the dish of the day, which Elena later discovered was the dish of every day: fish and chips. Three fish at a time were being fried in a vast, round, burned pan, while Mr. Ling expertly sliced each potato the moment Alex had finished peeling it. Elena noticed that only three soup bowls and three dinner plates of different sizes had been laid out on the countertop, although there had to be at least twenty crew on board. Strelnikov interrupted his frying to sample the soup, and as he didn’t comment, Elena assumed she had passed her first test. He then ladled a large portion into each of the three soup bowls, which Mr. Ling placed on a tray, before taking them off to the officers’ mess. As he opened the door, Elena saw a long queue of morose-looking figures, billycans in hand, waiting to be served.

“Only one ladle each,” grunted Strelnikov, as the first deckhand held up his billycan.

Elena carried out his orders, and tried not to show that she was appalled when Strelnikov dropped a fried fish into the same billycans as the soup. Only one member of the crew greeted her with a warm smile, and even said “thank you,” in her native tongue.

Once she’d completed the task, twenty-three men in all, the cook returned to the stove and began to fry the largest three pieces of fish, one by one, before tipping them onto the officers’ plates. Mr. Ling selected only the thinnest chips to accompany them, then placed the plates on his tray before leaving the galley once again.

“Start clearing up!” Strelnikov barked, as he sank into the only chair in the room while nursing a half-empty bottle of vodka.

After Mr. Ling had returned with the empty soup plates, he immediately began to scour the large pots and the two frying pans. When he heard Strelnikov begin to snore, he grinned at Alex and pointed to a pan of untouched chips. Alex devoured every last one of them, while Elena continued scrubbing the pots. Once she’d finished, she glanced across at Strelnikov. He was fast asleep, so she and Alex slipped out of the galley and made their way back up the spiral staircase and onto the deck.

Elena began to unpack her little suitcase and place each item neatly on the deck, when she heard heavy footsteps behind her. She quickly turned around to see a tall, heavily built man approaching them. Alex put down his dictionary, leaped up, and stepped between his mother and the advancing giant. Although he knew it would be an unequal contest, he didn’t intend to give up without a fight. But the man’s next move took them both by surprise. He sat down cross-legged on the deck, and smiled up at them.

“My name is Dimitri Balanchuk,” he said, “and, like you, I’m a Russian exile.”

Elena looked more carefully at Dimitri, and then remembered he was the man who’d thanked her at supper. She returned his smile, and sat down opposite him. Alex folded his arms and remained standing.

“We should arrive in New York in about ten days,” said Dimitri in a soft, gentle voice.

“Have you been to New York before?” Elena asked.

“I live there, but I still consider Leningrad to be my home. I was on deck when I saw you climbing into the crate. I tried to warn you to get into the other one.”

“Why?” said Alex. “I’ve read a lot about New York, and even though it’s full of gangsters, it sounds exciting.”

“It’s exciting enough,” said Dimitri, “although there are just as many gangsters in Moscow as there are in New York,” he added, with a wry smile. “But I’m not convinced you’ll ever get off this ship without my help.”

“Are they going to send us back to Leningrad?” asked Elena, trembling at the thought.

“No. The Yanks would welcome you with open arms, especially as you’re refugees fleeing from Communism.”

“But we don’t know anyone in America,” said Alex.

“You do now,” said Dimitri, “because I’d do anything to help a fellow countryman escape from that repressive regime. No, it’s not the Americans who will be your problem, it’s Strelnikov. You’ve cut his workload in half, so he’ll do anything to prevent you getting off the ship.”

“But how can he stop us?”

“The same way he does Mr. Ling, who joined the crew in the Philippines over six years ago. Whenever we approach a port, Strelnikov locks him in the galley and doesn’t let him out until we’re back at sea. And I suspect that’s exactly what he has planned for you.”

“Then we must tell one of the officers,” said Elena.

“They don’t even know you’re on board,” said Dimitri. “Even if they did, it’s more than their life is worth to cross Strelnikov. But don’t panic, because I have an idea which I hope will see the cook ending up locked in his own galley.”

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