“And now,” cried the senator, “I want to hear it from you, am I your uncle or not?”
“You are my uncle,” Karl said, then kissed his hand and was kissed on the forehead in return. “I’m very happy that I met you, but you’re wrong to think that my parents only have bad things to say about you. There were also a few other mistakes in what you said, I mean, it didn’t actually all happen like that. But from over here you couldn’t really have got a good sense of what was going on and I don’t think it’s a big problem if these gentlemen have got a few incorrect details about something that can’t mean very much to them.”
“Well spoken,” said the senator, then led Karl over to the visibly emotional captain and asked, “Don’t I have a splendid nephew?”
“I’m delighted,” said the captain with the kind of bow that only comes from military training, “to have met your nephew, Senator. It’s a special honour for my ship to have been the place where you met. I’m just sorry to say that the crossing must have been very uncomfortable in steerage, you never know who’s being carried along down there. We do everything possible to make the crossing as pleasant as possible for our steerage passengers, far more than our American counterparts, for example, but to make that journey an actual pleasure is unfortunately something we haven’t yet managed.”
“It hasn’t done me any harm,” said Karl.
“It hasn’t done him any harm!” repeated the senator, laughing loudly.
“The only thing is my suitcase, which I…” and with that he remembered everything that had taken place before and that remained to be done, looked around and saw those present still standing where they’d been before, but silent with respect and amazement, their eyes directed at him. Only in the port officials, inasmuch as their stern, self-satisfied faces gave anything away, could you see regret at having come at such an inopportune time; the watch they had lying on the table was probably more important to them than everything that was happening in this room and indeed anything that could happen.
After the captain, the first to express his happiness for them was, strangely enough, the stoker. He said, “My heartiest congratulations,” and shook Karl’s hand, also wanting to show something like respect. But when he turned to the senator with the same phrase, the senator shifted backwards, as if the stoker were overstepping his rights, and the stoker dropped his hand at once.
The others saw what they were supposed to do and crowded around Karl and the senator. In the confusion, Karl was even offered congratulations by Schubal, which he accepted with thanks. The last to step forward were the two port officials, who said a few words in English, making a ridiculous impression.
The senator was in such a good mood that he wanted to savour every detail, and started to describe the circumstances of how this reunion had come about, something that was of course not only tolerated by the others but listened to with interest. So he told them that he’d copied the list of Karl’s distinguishing features from the cook’s letter into his notebook in case he needed them to hand. Then, during the stoker’s unbearable waffling, he’d pulled out the notebook for no other reason than to distract himself and—just for amusement—tried to match the cook’s not exactly detective-standard description to Karl’s appearance. “And that’s how you end up with a nephew,” he concluded in a tone that made it sound as if he wanted to be congratulated again.
“What’s going to happen to the stoker?” asked Karl, ignoring his uncle’s latest story. In his new position he thought he was entitled to say whatever crossed his mind.
“The stoker will get whatever he deserves,” said the senator, “and whatever the captain considers best. I think we’ve heard just about enough from the stoker, indeed more than enough, something I’m sure these gentlemen will agree with me on.”
“But that’s not the point, it’s a question of justice,” said Karl. He stood between his uncle and the captain, believing, perhaps because he was standing there, that the decision lay in his hands.
But the stoker no longer seemed to hold out any hope. He’d tucked his hands into his belt, which his agitated movements had brought into view along with part of a striped shirt. That didn’t bother him in the least; he’d made his complaint, let them see what rags he wrapped around his body, and then let them carry him off. He thought that the steward and Schubal, the two lowest in rank, should be the ones to give him the final send-off. Then Schubal would be left in peace and not driven to the brink of desperation, as the chief purser had put it. The captain would be able to hire a bunch of Romanians, everyone on board would speak Romanian and then maybe everything would indeed be better. No stoker would shoot his mouth off in the cash office and only his last tirade would be remembered, with a certain fondness, because, as the senator had said, it had prompted him to recognize his nephew. Moreover, that nephew had tried to help him several times already and so provided more than enough thanks in advance for the good turn the stoker had done him in having him recognized; it didn’t occur to the stoker to now demand anything more. And anyway, he might be the nephew of a senator, but he was still a long way short of being a captain, and it was from the captain’s mouth that the bad news would come. — So the stoker tried not to look at Karl, but unfortunately in this room full of enemies there was no other resting place for his eyes.
“Don’t misunderstand the situation,” said the senator to Karl. “It may well be a question of justice, but it’s also one of discipline. Both of those things, especially the latter, are for the captain to decide.”
“That’s right,” mumbled the stoker. Those who heard and understood smiled disconcertedly.
“Besides, we’ve already kept the captain from his business for long enough and it must be piling up now that he’s arrived in New York. It’s high time for us to leave the ship before we get unnecessarily mixed up in some petty squabble between a pair of engineers and end up turning it into more than it is. I completely understand what you’re doing, by the way, my dear nephew, and that’s precisely what gives me the right to lead you away from here at once.”
“I’ll have a boat made ready for you,” said the captain, astonishing Karl by not offering the slightest objection to his uncle’s self-deprecating words. The chief purser hurried over to the desk and phoned the captain’s order through to the bosun.
‘It’s true that we’re almost out of time,’ Karl said to himself, ‘but there’s nothing I can do without insulting everybody. I can’t leave my uncle when he’s only just found me. The captain is polite, but no more than that. His politeness will stop when it comes to discipline, and I’m sure what my uncle said is what the captain really thinks. Schubal I don’t want to talk to, I even feel bad that I shook his hand. And all the other people here are irrelevant.’