The Black Black Sea

So, after hugs, tears, and kisses, on a cold, dull morning, Paul, Sophia, Tamara and Isa, together with Aunt Julia, are waving goodbye from the ship’s rail. They sail out into the Black Sea. Today it is truly black, black in color and black in mood. Paul grips the Arta's stern railings tightly and stares. The harbor quays are already out of sight. The east-facing buildings on the bluff above the Potemkin Steps shine palely through the light morning mist, as the wintery sun appears over the horizon. He can see the reflection in the water from the white stone of the buildings where their apartment is located, high up above the harbor.

He sighs loudly and gives silent thanks to God that he can take his family out of the dangers of this disintegrating country. The feeling of fear and claustrophobia he has been living with is evaporating. In Odessa he was hemmed-in by enemies and wondering when they would next break in. He shuddered when he recalled how, in Catherine the Great Square, he and Sophia had had to join the cheering when the shout went up to seek out and liquidate the bourgeoisie of the city. The same play-acting was needed whenever they walked through town. No more. Now they can relax. 

Relief is mixed with sadness and concern for the loved ones they are leaving behind. Paul doubts whether he will ever see them or his homeland again. He finds it impossible to comprehend that older brother Arthur decided to stay behind in the belief that the Whites could still win. He feels anger for all the wealth and property that has been taken from them – an unfair reward for the generations that had worked so hard to improve the land and to bring prosperity to their beloved Odessa. 

Sophia thinks of her mother Oma, and cries – no she howls, but within herself, and without tears, not to upset daughters Tamara and Isa. Oma had refused to travel saying that she was too old and that the Bolsheviks would not bother with her. Have Paul’s sister Nellie and husband Albert been able to leave their estate in Cherson close to the Crimea? She wonders. Lives are far more important than property. Aunt Julia also cries, “Carl, Carl, Carlushka, I want you, I need you.” But, like Sophia’s it is a silent cry. Carl, another of Paul's brothers, had been summarily shot in the back of his head in his own cellar by the Cheka. He really should be standing here at the rail beside them. He so easily could have been. Julia puts her left hand on Isa’s head and strokes it. Isa looks up, stretches out her arm and hugs her aunt close. 

The five remain standing together in the cold until Odessa disappears behind the mauve, misty headland of the banks of the Dniester estuary with the Turkish fort of Akerman at its point. Sophia finds it unreal to think, that only four weeks ago she had viewed Akerman with Tamara and Isa from the cemetery hill in her home village, close to Odessa.

Paul places a hand lovingly over Sophia’s on the rail. She pauses, looks at him and puts her other hand on his. Another pause and he puts his free hand on hers. She then quickly pulls her hand out from under and places it on top. It becomes a game that ends in a flurry and a hug and a kiss. The girls eye this childish nonsense with superior surprise. 

Paul’s family, although not sleeping on soft couches and in luxury but on wooden soldier’s benches, are soon happy to be steaming peacefully half-way around Europe to Germany. The bulk of the passengers are German ex-prisoners of war. They are pleased to be going home and keep everyone cheerful with their mouth organ playing and the singing of traditional songs. They also like to spoil Tamara and Isa with their attention, many of them no doubt thinking of their own children at home. When the sea is not rough, the two girls explore over the ship and make friends with both crew and other passengers. As they are the only youngsters on board, everyone takes an interest in them, and they are somewhat spoilt. The cook gives them a treat from time to time, such as an apple or something sweet and they realize how lucky they are as the standard food is basic and boring – dried beans or lentils in which they find small worms. The novelty of corned beef is a little more acceptable, but they soon have enough of that too.

All through the journey, either English or French warships escort the Arta, and she is passed from one Ally to the other. The Allies allow no one to disembark at any of the ports on the way. Paul is pleased when English rather than French officers are their escorts as the French are rough and rude whereas the English are welcoming and friendly. "Like gentlemen," Paul says.

The Arta anchors in Constantinople Bay on the 10th December, 1919 at four in the morning. Paul comes on deck to a dreamlike vision. It is as mild and warm as Odessa in May. There is a soft stillness in the air and the water laps gently against the sides of the ship. The city lies sleeping in a faint morning mist. This, the place of fairy tales and of a ‘Thousand and One Nights’; this, an oriental city with twinkling lights and candle-like minarets soaring into the sky. It is like a metamorphosis comparing this weather with the day before. 

At eight o’clock two lighters approach. One flies a French pennant; the other is British. Paul gathers that the French oversee the port arrangements here, while the British wish to ensure that all refugees arrive as planned at their final destination. The French official informs the captain, with some disdain in his voice, that he expects thirteen more German refugees to join the ship. These arrive alongside very soon after the English officer has followed the Frenchman on board. Tamara and Isa look casually down over the side at the waiting refugees crowded into the barge. They are the typical sad crowd of sorry refugees, wearing too many clothes. (It is the easiest way to carry them.) Tamara laughs and says they look like Bibendum men. They have bags of all shapes and sizes. Whatever color their clothing and bags started as, all have become a shade of dirty grey-green due to the rigors they have faced and the terrain they have endured. 

They are excited and talking loudly and quickly – curious to how they will be received and what will be their fate. Tamara and Isa watch these additional refugees being transferred to their ship, idly wondering where they have come from. Then Tamara spots three fair-haired children holding together, the older girl with pigtails. She looks again. Surprise! She digs younger sister Isa in the ribs, shouts wildly, jumps up and down and waves, “Mary, Buba, Freddy.” These are Paul's sister Aunt Nellie and Uncle Albert's children! They too have managed to escape!