Vengeance

VENGEANCE

by Neville Teller

The children were intrigued by the naval museum that was half a ship. Ships and the sea were not things they had grown up with. The occasional visit to the Dead Sea was as far north as they usually ventured. Our two grandchildren were children of the desert.

You see, when I came to settle in Israel late in 1949, it was way down south in the Negev that I started a small business, taking my Hebrew name from the most important town in the area. So it was as Avraham Ramon that I was shortly afterwards married to a girl I'd known as a child in the old country.

When our grandson, Eli, reached his twelfth birthday in 1988, I wanted to give him and his little sister, Shula, the biggest treat I could. A week's holiday in Haifa was something the children had never experienced – they'd never been so far north before in their lives.

It was on the second morning of our holiday that my two grandchildren and I, walking up a steep side­-road that ran at an acute angle from the main coast road, came across the odd‑looking building with a rather unusual sign outside.

"What do those words mean, Grandpa?" asked Eli.

I spelled them out for him.

""Illegal Immigration and Naval Museum."

"What's illegal immigration?" asked Shula.

"It means coming into the country unlawfully."

Eli knew what I was talking about.

"It's all those stories you used to tell us, about when you were young. Let's go in, Grandpa.

"Look, Shula," I said, "the museum's half a ship. They must have brought an old ship up here, and made it into a sort of living story book."

We walked in, and instantly the glare of the morning sun was transmuted into a shadowy, greenish light, and the heat into air-conditioned comfort. As I bought the tickets, I asked the man at the desk the name of the ship that had been integrated into the museum.

Grizzled, bearded, he looked at me intently before pointing at the ship's side.

"The Af Al Pi Chen," he said, "one of the vessels that used to bring illegal immigrants into the port of Haifa under the noses of the British. During the Mandate, of course."

"Can we go and explore, grandpa?" asked Eli.

"Yes, off you go. I'll never keep pace with you. I'll go round in my own time."

They raced away and I turned to the man at the desk, his face half in shadow.

"It seems like a very good place to bring children."

"Oh, kids like scrambling about the ship. For them it's an adventure. But the story we tell here – that's a different matter. That's no fairy tale."

"I know," I said.

"I was in the middle of it all," said the man.

"Is that how you came to work in the museum?"

"Partly. Yes, I was well qualified, I suppose. The Haganah, first in the '30s and then after the Second World War, and then a spell in the Israeli Navy. But by that time I was already searching for someone – someone I wanted to find very badly indeed. When I left the Navy I looked for a job where I could go on searching. This was ideal."

"Sounds intriguing," I said. "Who are you searching for?"

"I'll tell you. Have you got time for a chat?"