Exodus - Leon Uris [324]
Hanna came in and she, too, was green. “Can’t you make this plane stop bouncing?” she said. “They’re all throwing up in there.”
Foster shut off the heat in the main cabin. “Get in there and open the air vents. I’ll try to get a little higher. The cold air will straighten them out.”
His head throbbed from the hangover. Why did he ever let Stretch Thompson talk him into this?
In another half hour, Hanna returned. “They’re all complaining that they are freezing ... so am I.”
“You got your choice—if I turn on the heat they’ll start vomiting again.”
“Let them freeze,” Hanna mumbled, and returned to her passengers.
In a few moments she ran into the cabin shrieking and screaming in Hebrew.
“Speak English!”
Hanna pointed to the main cabin. “Fire ... they’ve started a fire to keep warm.”
The plane was on automatic pilot and Foster tore out, throwing bodies to right and left. A small fire was going in the middle of the floor. He stamped it out in a rage and went to Hanna, who sagged limply by the compartment door.
“Do you know how to talk to these people?”
“Yes ... Hebrew ...”
Foster shoved the intercom microphone into her hands. “Now you tell them the next one who moves out of his place is going for a swim in the Red Sea!”
The Yemenites had never heard a loud-speaker before. When they heard Hanna’s voice they all began pointing to the ceiling and, terrified, they cried and cringed.
“What the hell’s the matter with them? What did you tell them?”
“They’ve never heard it before. They think it’s God commanding them.”
“Good. Don’t tell them no different.”
Things went fairly well for the next few hours. There were a few minor incidents, nothing bad enough to endanger the plane. Foster had just begun to relax when he heard another loud commotion from the main cabin. He closed his eyes. “Dear Lord,” he sighed, “I’ll be a good Christian from now on. Just let this day end.”
Hanna returned.
“I’m afraid to ask,” Foster mumbled.
“Tex,” she said, “you are the godfather of a baby boy.”
“What!”
“We’ve just had a birth.”
“No ... no ... no!”
“It’s all right,” Hanna said. “Giving birth is a very routine matter with them. Mother and son are resting well.”
He closed his eyes and gulped. Nothing more happened for an hour—suspiciously, Foster thought. The little people got used to the sound of the engines of the “eagle” and began to doze off one by one, tired from their ordeal. Hanna brought a bowl of hot broth to Foster and they began to laugh over the events of the day ... Foster asked Hanna a lot of questions about the Yemenites and the war.
“Where are we now?”
Foster, pilot, co-pilot, navigator, and radio operator, looked up at the map. “We’ll be turning the corner pretty soon and go up the Gulf of Akaba. On the way down I was able to see the battle lines in the desert.”
“I hope the war will be over soon.”
“Yeah, war’s rough. Say, how in hell did you ever get roped into a job like this? Whatever they pay you, it’s worth double.”
Hanna smiled. “I don’t get paid for this.”
“Don’t get paid?”
“No. I was sent here. I may go out with these people to build a settlement or I may continue this run.”
“I don’t dig you at all.”
“It is rather hard to explain. Sometimes outside people don’t understand how we feel. Money means nothing to us. Getting these people into Israel means everything. Sometime I’ll explain it better.”
Foster shrugged. A lot of strange things were happening. Well, it didn’t matter, he thought. It was worth the ride, but once on a run like this was enough.
After a while he pointed ahead. “That’s Israel,” he said.
Hanna ran to the microphone.
“What the hell you doing!”
“Please let me tell them, Tex. They’ve been waiting for this moment for ... thousands of years.”
“They’re liable to tear the plane apart!”
“I promise ... I’ll make them stay calm.”
“Well ... go on.” He set the automatic pilot again and went back to make sure they didn’t blow the plane up. Hanna made