Jacob's Way by Gilbert Morris Page A

holding on carefully. On deck, the sailors were busy with the sails. Neither Reisa nor Jacob understood a thing about seamanship, but they watched with interest as the sails began to drop, and they heard one of the officers crying out something about the anchor.
    â€œWe’re moving,” Reisa said. And sure enough, they felt the stirring of the ship as the winds caught the sails. Overhead the sky was gray, and marked only by the flight of noisy gulls circling the vessel.
    As the ship picked up speed, both Reisa and Jacob watched the shore as it receded. Others were there, and the rail was lined with passengers, their eyes fixed upon the land. There was something magnetic about the sight, and every head was turned toward the disappearing line of flat land which represented their old home.
    As the land grew fainter and fainter, and as the night began to come on, Jacob said, “Reisa, I know you’re sad. But remember Abraham must have felt like we do at this moment.” He smiled despite the discomfort of the sharp wind and his weakness. “He had to leave everything—family, friends—all that had been dear to him, but he knew that God was commanding him. And so he went out from his home into a strange country.”
    Reisa held onto the rail, ignoring the piercing cold. “Do you think God is sending us, Grandfather—as he sent Abraham?”
    â€œYes. I know he is, Granddaughter!”

    Jacob Dimitri found out on the first day of the voyage that he was no sailor. Almost at once, as soon as they reached the deep rolling bellows and the ship began to dip, to fall, and to rise, Jacob felt his stomach lurch.
    Reisa saw his face grow pale. “You’d better go lie down, Grandfather.”
    Jacob obeyed without comment, but even lying down the motion of the ship was terrible for him. He began to vomit, but he was not alone. Reisa was there to help, to bathe his face, to be sure he was as comfortable as possible. But there was actually little that she could do. The passengers were all huddled together almost like cattle, and the narrow bunks were not enough to take care of the overload. Many had to sleep on the hard deck wrapped in blankets.
    For those first few days, it was all Reisa could do to care for her grandfather. She had to force him to eat, but the food that was prepared and served out twice a day was not fit in her mind for a sick man.
    The dark filthy compartments in the steerage were filled with people with vomiting fits, and a confusion of cries became almost unbearable.
    â€œI wish we had never left home,” Jacob moaned one day.
    â€œIt’s all right, Grandfather,” Reisa said, moistening his lips with a damp cloth. She herself hated the ship. Now glancing around, she saw people jammed like rabbits in a warren into the ill-smelling bunks. The odors of scattered orange peelings, tobacco, garlic, and even worse blended together to form a horrible stench.
    The next day she decided to try to wash some of their clothes, but it was a miserable failure. There was no fresh water available for washing. The best she could do was to rinse out a few of their clothes in salt water.
    The young man, Petya, helped her a great deal. He was a cheerful young man convinced that he would become a millionaire in America. As they were on the deck washing as best they could, his face glowed as he said, “You just wait, Reisa. I’ll get rich in America.”
    â€œIs that very important to you, Petya?”
    â€œImportant! Of course it’s important!” Astonishment swept across the young man’s face. “Everybody wants to be rich.”
    â€œI don’t.”
    â€œWell, you’re a woman. But you’ll want to marry a rich man.”
    Reisa smiled and looked over at Boris, for she had brought him on deck with her. No one had made any complaints about him, and he seemed to be quite a seagoing cat. “You don’t want to be rich, do you,