Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1954-08-21

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against my ribs; my mouth went
dry.
A sailor who sat with me in
my cabin cell laughed abruptly.
There you are" he said, "you
are going back"
I was going back. The words
were like a death knell. I lay
upon my bunk and stared into
darkness. and I felt lost and
weak and almost resigned.
OF course. I could not expect
a miracle, I thought. If / were
some important mana lawyer,
a professor, an artist - they
would have to make a greater
effort to save me. But who am
I? just a sailor; of no import
!, Outside. on the. docks,s the
dark crowd began to dispense
silently. quietly. as people do
when a funeral is ended. But
I did not know that either.
Prays Hardest in Life.
lay motionless, weaving some
vague thoughts in my head. And
then suddenly, without warning.
the engines stopped.
After a while they started
again. They went on for perhaps
half an hour and again stopped.
I do not think that I have ever
prayed as hard in my life as
prayed then.
Morning came, and with it
another Polish official, smiling
and polite. Would I sign a dec
laration that I was returning
willingly he asked? He was ready
to promise that nothing UNI
pleasant would happen to me.
In my despair, I did not even
consider it strange that he
should bother about such declar-
atoms now, when ! was finally
delivered into the Communists
hands, without any hope. I re-
piled YEARLY that I wanted to
be left in England.
His smile vanished; he left
the cabin and slammed the door.
When he left, a weak glimmer
of hope arose in my mind again.
So everything was not going
smoothly for the people who
were taking me away?
Ships Officers Angry.
No one told me anything. Yet
I felt that something important
was going on outside, and that
it was connected with me. The
sailors who came to my cabin
or peered through the window
looked preoccupied and slightly
uneasy. They still insulted me.
but without that triumphant air
which they previously assumed.
The ships officers were angry.
/ AS for the political commissar. If
he could have squaShed me
under his heel like a bug, he
would have done so.
Hours dragged on, and still
nothing happened. I counted
them on my fingers. Now it was
Saturday. Always ] waited. When
hope is nearly extinct, waiting
hurts physically. And then dusk
fell gently, and the light was put
on in my cabin.
| Suddenly I heard quick steps
in the corridor. Some one was
barking orders. The sailor with
me left the cabin quickly, SWITCH
ing off the light, and I heard
a key grinding in the lock.
i Wildly rushed to the door
and hammered at 1t with my
fists. Even If rescuers were COM
ing, they would not find me. ]
was locked in. hidden, buried.
| I heard the political officer
shouting at me: BE quiet, you
dirty swine, or you will regret
that you were ever born"
i British Break Down DOor.
Silence. And then the noise
of people coming many people
And the sound of the English
language and of angry Polish
voices arguing in bad English ]
felt a strong temptation to cry
out: Here I am!"-and could
not. My voice was too choked
with emotion.
i Somebody tried at my door
from the outside. and a firm
English voice asked q question,
Then ! heard the captain Of the
ship replying nervously: 'The
key is lost, ! haven't got it." a