Exodus - Leon Uris [108]
Trevor-Browne
Cecil Bradshaw could not sleep. He paced back and forth, back and forth. It was just a little over six hours before the children on the Exodus would begin committing suicide. He had only three hours left in which to make a decision to hand to the Cabinet. No compromise could be reached.
Was he fighting a madman? Or was this Ari Ben Canaan a shrewd and heartless schemer who had deftly led him deeper and deeper into a trap?
LET MY PEOPLE GO!
Bradshaw walked to his desk and flicked on the lamp.
URGENT
Ari Ben Canaan, spokesman for the Exodus, announced that beginning at noon tomorrow ten volunteers a day will commit suicide ...
Suicide ... suicide ... suicide ...
Bradshaw’s hand shook so violently he dropped the paper.
Also on his desk were a dozen communiqués from various European and American governments. In that polite language that diplomats use they all expressed concern over the Exodus impasse. He also had notes from each of the Arab governments expressing the view that if the Exodus were permitted to sail for Palestine it would be considered an affront to every Arab.
Cecil Bradshaw was confused now. The past few days had been a living hell. How had it all begun? Thirty years of formulating Middle Eastern policy and now he was in his worst trouble over an unarmed salvage tug.
What queer trick of fate had given him the mantle of an oppressor? Nobody could possibly accuse him of being anti-Jewish. Secretly Bradshaw admired the Jews in Palestine and understood the meaning of their return. He enjoyed the hours he had spent arguing with Zionists around conference tables, bucking their brilliant debaters. Cecil Bradshaw believed from the bottom of his heart that England’s interest lay with the Arabs. Yet the Mandate had grown to over half a million Jews. And the Arabs were adamant that the British were fostering a Jewish nation in their midst.
During all the years of work he had been realistic with himself. What was happening? He could see his own grandchildren lying on the deck of the Exodus. Bradshaw knew his Bible as well as any well brought-up Englishman and like most Englishmen had a tremendous sense of honor although he was not deeply religious. Could it be that the Exodus was driven by mystic forces? No, he was a practical diplomat and he did not believe in the supernatural.
Yet—he had an army and a navy and the power to squash the Exodus and all the other illegal runners—but he could not bring himself to do it.
The Pharaoh of Egypt had had might on his side too! Sweat ran down Bradshaw’s face. It was all nonsense! He was tired and the pressure had been too great. What foolishness!
LET MY PEOPLE GO!
Bradshaw walked to the library and found a Bible and in near panic began to read through the pages of Exodus and about the Ten Plagues that God sent down on the land of Egypt.
Was he Pharaoh? Would a curse rain down on Britain? He went back to his room and tried to rest, but a staccato rhythm kept running through his tired brain ... let my people go ... let my people go ...
“Crawford!” he yelled. “Crawford!”
Crawford ran in, tying his robe. “You called?”
“Crawford. Get through to Tevor-Browne on Cyprus at once. Tell him ... tell him to let the Exodus sail for Palestine.”
BOOK 2
The Land is Mine
... for the land is mine: for ye are strangers and sojourners with me. And in all the land of your possession ye shall grant a redemption for the land.
The word of God as given to
Moses in Leviticus
Chapter One
THE BATTLE OF THE EXODUS was over!
Within seconds, the words “Exodus to sail” were on the wires. Within minutes they blazed in headlines around the world.
On Cyprus the joy of the people was boundless and around the world there was one long sigh of relief.
On the Exodus the children were too exhausted to celebrate.
The British urged Ari Ben Canaan to bring the salvage tug to dockside so that the children could be given medical care and the ship restocked and inspected. Ben Canaan agreed, and as the