Under the Java Moon, page 17
The dog shivered, as if he’d been swimming in a lake or a pond.
“Is he hurt?” Ita asked.
“Just scared,” Johan said through gritted teeth. His blue eyes were wild, desperate. He set Kells down on the veranda, but held the dog close. “What should I do?”
At that moment, Oma came out of the house, Georgie on her hip.
Ita had never seen Oma pay much attention to the dog, but right now, she leaned over and stroked Kells’ long black fur. “He’s such a good dog,” Oma said. “He’s caught several rats in the past few days. Did you notice?”
“He’s a fast dog,” Johan said.
“I think . . .” Oma paused. “That the Japanese will be very happy with such a good rat catcher. Maybe we can ask for special permission.”
Johan looked down at his dog, then up at Oma. “Do you think they will approve it?” His voice cracked with desperation.
Oma tapped her chin. “We can ask. Let’s see, we’ll talk to Tie first, then if she agrees, we’ll take it up with the Japanese.”
Ita saw Mama close her eyes for a second. Did Mama think Aunt Tie would turn them down?
The group of them searched out Aunt Tie, and Oma did all the talking. Aunt Tie was quiet for a long time, then finally she said, “Exactly how many rats has this dog killed?”
Johan pushed out his chest. “Four yesterday and six the day before that. I threw them out past the garden. We can go and count them all.”
Aunt Tie’s lips pressed together. “No need. I will report to the commander and let you know. In the meantime, keep that dog out of sight.”
Johan’s face broke into a grin, but it was a wobbly grin, and Ita wondered if he might start crying again. She felt like crying.
Once they were back in the house, Georgie wanted Ita to lie next to him, so she climbed onto the bed. He seemed to know that she felt worried because he curled up next to her.
Soon, Georgie fell asleep, and Mama presented a book that Ita had never seen before.
“Where did you get this?” Ita asked. It was as big as the Bible that Oma had back at home. But this book was filled with pictures and short stories.
“I traded for it. You can learn to read from this,” Mama said, a smile in her voice. She settled next to Ita and turned the pages. “See here, it’s a rhyme that goes with this picture.”
The edge of the page was torn, but Ita didn’t care. It would be fun to learn to read. As she turned more pages, she found another child’s scribbles. More pages were torn, but most of the book was fine.
“Thank you, Mama,” Ita said. “I will be a good reader.”
Mama’s smile was proud. “We are going to put together a preschool group that you can be a part of.”
“Can Georgie come?” Ita asked.
“When he’s a little older,” Mama said. She rested her hand on her stomach, and Ita wondered if she was feeling sick.
“Is the baby all right?” Ita asked.
“Yes,” Mama said. “Put your hand here, and you can feel his kicking.”
Mama had told Ita she thought the baby was a boy. Ita didn’t know what she thought about that. She already had a brother, so she thought maybe it would be nice to have a little sister, too. Ita let Mama guide her hand, and sure enough, she felt a small movement. “Was that your stomach?”
“It was the baby,” Mama confirmed.
Someone started crying in the house somewhere—it sounded like a baby. Maybe the one Ita had seen earlier. “Will our baby cry a lot?”
Mama patted Ita’s hand. “It’s hard to say. But our baby will have a lot of people to help care for him, so he might not cry very much.”
“I can help care for him,” Ita said. “But what if it’s a girl?”
“Whatever the baby is, you’ll be a wonderful big sister,” Mama said in her quiet voice.
Even though there was plenty of noise going on outside their room, Mama herself was always quiet when Georgie was sleeping.
Ita wondered what it would be like having another person to share their room.
The rain started outside, first a few drops, then heavier and heavier. Ita hoped that just this once, roll call would be canceled.
But a few moments later, the siren blared, signaling the roll call. Aunt Tie’s voice rang out through the house, adding in her warning.
Oma rose from across the room and held out her hand to Ita.
Mama lifted the sleepy Georgie from his nap. They didn’t have umbrellas or raincoats. But they, along with the rest of the house residents, headed outside.
Johan walked alongside Ita, his shoulders hunched against the driving rain. He walked barefoot, as some of the children had started doing, although Ita still wore shoes. “I hope the Japanese will let me keep my dog.”
Ita might be soaking wet, and tired, and hungry, but she didn’t care about any of that. She hoped the Japanese army would let Kells stay, too.
They moved into their lines as the Japanese soldiers arrived. Rain pelted down on everyone, but everyone still called out their number and bowed. Once roll call was finished and approved, the commander who spoke Dutch approached their single line. He walked with Kano, one of the Japanese guards who was friendly to the children. Mama had said he’d even treated the women fairly.
“I have approved the petition to keep your dog,” the commander said, his gaze boring into Johan’s bowed head.
Kano had a pleased look in his eyes. Had he helped talk the commander into this?
Ita couldn’t see Johan’s expression because she was bowing too, but she felt his smile as if it were her own.
“As long as he is catching rats, you can keep him,” the commander continued. “You must show your house leader how many rats the dog catches each day.”
Johan must have nodded because the Japanese commander and Kano moved on.
Something good could happen at the camp, Ita decided. Even when other things were bad or hard, this was good.
Three days later, Ita attended preschool with some of the other children in the house, including two girls named Elly and Petra. Johan was too old for preschool, and Georgie was too young. They met on the rear veranda in the shade. Ina Venema smiled at everyone, then handed out half sheets of paper. Everyone got their own pencil too. The Japanese soldiers had allowed the preschool to use pencils and paper, though both had been banned throughout the rest of the camp.
Ita was learning that the Japanese troops didn’t always like what the commander ordered. When the stricter commanders weren’t around, the troops would smile and try to speak to the children in a friendly way. They’d teach them some Japanese. Simple things like colors and names of things.
“I had to break the pencils in half then sharpen them,” Ina explained, “or there wouldn’t be enough to go around.”
Ita liked Ina’s smile. It was pretty and bright.
“Now,” Ina said, in a teacher voice, “We will start right from the beginning, with the letter A.”
This was easy, Ita decided. She already knew how to write an A. But as she wrote out the large and small letter on the paper, her pencil wobbled because of the unevenness of the veranda underneath. She didn’t like the wobbly line, and she looked over at Elly’s paper.
Elly had made a line but was now erasing it. With a beautiful pink eraser that looked like it had never been used. Elly continued concentrating as she wrote.
But Ita stared at the eraser. It would be nice to have a new eraser so large. She wanted to ask if she could borrow it. But Ita also knew how hard it would be to give it back, so she turned her gaze back to her own paper and wrote a new A. This one wasn’t perfect either, but it was better. She would have to write very carefully no matter what. Until they could leave camp and she could get her own eraser.
Chapter Seventeen
“When we met my father, he was a mental wreck; we barely recognized him. He kept asking to see my hands because he heard that the [Japanese] had cut off my fingers. He kept touching my hands throughout the visit. This incident took place only two to three months after he was interned. What had they done to him? That was the last time I saw my father alive.”
—Feite Posthumus, Camp 7 in Ambarawa
George
“We need to put distance between us and Krawang as quickly as possible,” Rouwenhorst said as their group stared at the island.
George tore his gaze away from the Japanese flag anchored on the shoreline, then he changed positions with one of the rowers. It wasn’t long before he was putting his might into the oars.
“Wait,” Bakker said. “They’re sending boats out.”
George glanced over his shoulder to see a couple of fishing boats launching from the shore.
“I don’t see any Japanese on the boats,” Vos commented.
“They’re Indonesians,” Rouwenhorst said. “Perhaps they have a message for us.”
Whether or not there was a message, George didn’t know how wise it was to risk hanging around. But the commander insisted they wait and hear out the villagers, whose boats were now closer.
Bakker moved to the front of the lifeboat to act as spokesperson once again.
The lifeboat bobbed in the sea as the fishing boats neared. There were three Indonesians in each boat, and their lively dark eyes locked onto the Dutch men. When the first boat halted several meters away, Bakker greeted them in Malay.
After an exchange of dialogue with the fishermen, Bakker told his comrades, “There are no Japanese in Krawang right now, but they come and go.” He paused, looking back at the Indonesians floating not too far from them. “They don’t dare bring us anything to sell or trade—because they fear the Japanese army will find out. But if we anchor here, they’ll try to help in some way tonight.”
“What? Are the Indonesians now our enemies?” Mulder murmured.
Rouwenhorst threw him a sharp glance, and Mulder fell silent.
“Tell them thank you for the offer,” Rouwenhorst said. “We will anchor here tonight.”
The night was quick to descend, and George found he couldn’t sleep when it was his turn to rest. At least they had more room here on the fifteen-person lifeboat than they’d had on the original dinghy. He gazed at the moon above, partially covered with clouds, as its glow turned everything silvery.
The quiet around him made his thoughts drift to another time, when the same silvery moon had lit the way as he and Mary walked home after their first outing together in the Netherlands. Until then, George had only caught glimpses of Mary, or spoken to her when her mother was around. These had amounted to stuttered speech on his end, and a warm smile on her end. He’d never felt tongue-tied around a woman before, but he’d also never thought a woman as pretty as Mary.
But it wasn’t only that she was pretty. When he saw her, something inside of his chest expanded. He felt lighter, and his pulse raced faster. And the times he wasn’t at her home, wondering what she was doing every moment, he still thought about her. A couple of his mates had teased him for becoming lost in thought.
So he’d decided to do something about it on one of his rare nights off from the evening classes he was taking to earn his A diploma as a ship’s engineer.
He hadn’t been exactly prepared for her to say yes, and it had been impossible to hide his surprise.
Mary had laughed. “Are you asking me to dinner as a thank you for talking my mother into giving you the room? I don’t need thanks. She’s been happy with your neatness and on-time rent.”
George blew out a slow breath, trying to calm both his thoughts and his pulse. “I’m asking you to dinner because I want to get to know you better.”
He was gratified to see a pretty blush steal across her cheeks. Was she pleased, then? Did she want to get to know him, too?
They walked to the café, and the conversation felt more stilted than George would have liked. But when Mary asked him about his KPM experiences, that was easy to talk about. So easy, that the meal was cleared by the time he finished explaining his career and future ambitions.
“I’m sorry I talked so much,” George said, after taking a sip from his glass. “Tonight was supposed to be about you. I still don’t know anything about you except that you light up every room you walk into.”
Mary’s brows raised, but there was a smile in her eyes. “You say quite remarkable things to me, George Vischer.”
For some reason, he liked how she’d used his whole name. “You’re a remarkable person.”
Mary laughed, a warm, light sound. One that George very much enjoyed. “Perhaps you should withhold judgment until you do get to know me.”
George clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Then tell me everything.”
Mary laughed again, then she shook her head. “Not here. I think the host wants us out of here sooner rather than later. It’s quite crowded, and there are people waiting outside.”
He hadn’t even noticed. The tables in the café were indeed filled.
“Come,” Mary continued. “I’ll tell you all about myself on the walk home. We’ll take the long way.”
George was satisfied with that. He paid, then escorted Mary out of the café, feeling gratified when she took his arm as they began the walk back to her home.
The night air had been perfect, the moon hung low, and the stars glittered. They walked and walked, and George didn’t even know where they were going half the time. Mary told him about her love for horse riding and how she’d traveled about Europe with her cousins. Then she told him about her younger years, about her alcoholic father, Adrianus Van Benten, and how she and her mother had had to strike out on their own.
George listened carefully, not wanting to miss a thing she said. Her mother had been working multiple jobs, including at a small boardinghouse for students with a café on ground floor. Mary, when still in school, helped before and after school. Every now and then her mother’s alcoholic ex-husband visited and stole money out of the cash register. Once Mary had finished school, she’d found her own job. But letting the room in their house helped as well. Her voice was full of bright ambition. Mary talked about her love for sewing, embroidery, and crocheting. She even painted. “I made the rug in your room.”
George slowed his step at this and looked over at her. The streetlamps made everything glow in the night. “You made the rug?”
“Yes.” Her smile was bright. “It’s fun. I’ll show you sometime how to do it.”
George planned on holding her to that promise. The more he was around Mary Van Benten, the more he wanted to be around her.
“Watch out!” Rouwenhorst called.
George’s eyes popped open. He’d been in the space between half asleep and half awake, reliving memories. His eyes adjusted to the dark in time to see a boat looming above them.
George was surprised that Vos had missed the larger boat on his watch duty, but the clouds had covered up the moon and stars, offering little light.
“Brace yourselves!” Rouwenhorst shouted.
George threw himself against the side of the lifeboat as impact was made. He winced at the sound of cracking wood. Was it their boat or the other boat?
A voice from the other ship called to them.
Thankfully it was in Malay and not Japanese.
Bakker scrambled to his feet, holding onto whatever he could to keep steady in the rocking lifeboat. “We’re Dutch seamen,” Bakker told the skipper. “We’re looking for supplies.”
The skipper and Bakker spoke back and forth for a few moments, then Bakker turned to everyone, triumph on his face. “The skipper is a good Samaritan. He apologizes for running into us, and he’s having his cook prepare us a meal.”
This certainly intrigued George. And within the hour, a large pot of nasi goreng was transferred over. The dish consisted of cooked rice fried with spices and bits of meat. It had become George’s favorite meal ever, and there was plenty to go around for second helpings. Even better.
Bakker asked the skipper for advice on how to get supplies, and the skipper told him to go ashore Krawang in the morning and barter there.
“No Japanese are there right now,” the skipper said. “If you go ashore, the Indonesians will sell to you.”
“We’ll wait out the rest of the night, then,” Rouwenhorst said. “Sleep if you can. We’re still anchored.”
George settled as low as he could in the boat, shoulder to shoulder with his comrades. A few of them fell asleep right away, if their snoring was any indication. The snoring didn’t bother George though—such a small thing to be bothered about after all they’d been through the past three weeks.
It seemed that a handful of moments had passed, when conversation awakened him. He snapped his eyes open. Dawn had broken across the sky in streaks of orange and pink, and Bakker was chatting across the narrow expanse of water with the skipper of the larger boat.
The other men munched on something like biscuits—obviously sent across by the skipper. When Vos saw that George was awake, he handed one over. After eating quickly, and filling part of his always empty stomach, George said, “What are the plans?”
“We’re taking Bakker and Rouwenhorst ashore to attempt some trading,” Vos said. “Then we plan to travel straight to Australia.”
Once the sun was up, George and his comrades rowed closer to Krawang.
Bakker and Rouwenhorst climbed out and waded to shore. Villagers were already gathered, waiting for the seamen. George watched Bakker speak with more than one native, but it seemed that no deals were being made.
When Bakker and Rouwenhorst returned to the lifeboat, the news was as expected.
“They’re cowed by the Japanese,” Rouwenhorst announced. “They won’t sell us anything.”
Defeated, they rowed away from shore toward the larger boat to report back. Bakker repeated what had happened to the skipper. Then Bakker informed everyone, “The skipper has suggested that we try another village. But it’s also on the shore of Java. He’ll lead us there.”
