Exodus - Leon Uris [53]
They were all crouched throughout the ruins and they silently, breathlessly strained their eyes to the sea. They numbered two hundred and were joined by two hundred more Palmach soldiers.
A flashlight signal blinked out from the ancient Tower of Drusus which jutted into the surf, and everyone tensed.
Aboard the Star of David, Bill Fry’s teeth tightened on a cigar stub and his hands tightened on the wheel of the old ship. He zigzagged her in slowly, inching past treacherous reefs and shoals. On deck the refugees pressed toward the rail and steeled themselves.
The Star of David shuddered and creaked as her timbers slashed into a craggy boulder! A single flare spiraled into the air! The melee was on!
Everyone scrambled over the sides, diving into shoulder-high water, and began fighting foot by foot through the surf toward the shore line several hundred yards away.
As the flare burst, the fishermen and Palmachniks scrambled from their cover and waded out to meet the refugees. Many slipped and fell into potholes or were overturned by a sudden wave and went down on slimy rocks, but nothing could stop them. The two forces met! The strong hands from the shore grabbed the refugees and began dragging them in.
“Quick! Quick!” they were ordered. “Take off your clothing and change into these at once!”
“Throw away any identification papers!”
“Those dressed, follow us ... move ... move ... move!”
“Quiet! No noise!”
“No lights!”
The refugees tore the drenched clothing from their bodies and put on the blue uniforms of the fishermen.
“Mingle ... everyone mingle....”
On deck of the Star of David, Karen handed children down to the Palmachniks one by one as fast as they could make a trip in and come back out. Strong, sure-footed men were needed to hold the children in the surf.
“Faster ... faster ...”
There were uninhibited cries of emotion from some who fell on the holy soil to kiss it.
“You will have plenty of time to kiss the ground later but not now ... move on!”
Bill Fry stood on his bridge barking orders through a megaphone. Within an hour nearly everyone had abandoned the Star of David except for a few dozen children and the section chiefs.
Thirty kilometers to the north a Palmach unit staged a devastating assault on some British warehouses south of Haifa in an effort to divert the British troops in that area away from the beaching operation at Caesarea.
On the beach the fishermen and Palmachniks worked rapidly. Some of the refugees were taken into the village and others to trucks which sped them inland.
As the last of the children was handed over the rail of the Star of David, Bill Fry tore down the ladder to the deck and ordered the section heads over the side.
Karen felt the icy water close over her head. She balanced on her toes, treaded water for a moment, and found her direction. She swam in close enough to find footing. Ahead of her, on the beach, she could hear confused shouts in Hebrew and German. She came to a huge rock and crawled over it on all fours. A wave washed her back into the sea. Now she worked to solid ground and pushed in foot by foot against a driving undertow. Downed again on all fours she crawled closer to the shore.
A piercing sound of sirens!
An ear-splitting crackle of rifle fire!
On the beach everyone was dispersing!
Karen gasped for breath as she emerged into knee-high water, holding her side. Directly before her stood a half dozen khaki-clad British soldiers with truncheons in their hands.
“No!” she shrieked. “No! No! No!”
She hurled herself into the cordon screaming, clawing, and kicking with fury. A strong arm seized her from behind and she was wrestled into the surf. Her teeth sank into the soldier’s hand. He yelled in pain and released her. She flung herself forward again fighting like a savage. A second soldier held his truncheon high and brought it down and it thudded against her head. Karen moaned, went limp, and rolled unconscious into the water.
She opened her eyes. Her head throbbed horribly. But she smiled as she looked up