Evening star., 1954-08-20
Threats, Promises Unheeded; !;
British Stepin on Asylum Bid !

bringing with him quiet, tlnob-
trusive- looking man in civilian
clothes. The man looked at me
sharply, questioningly. Then he
addressed the captain in good
Polish and declared he was a
British immigration officer. and
was it true that there was some
question of a man asking for
asylum?
shook free and before any
of them could speak, I uttered
my plea for asylum and handed
over my papers.
Wonder of wonders! The Brit
ish official took the papers. Over
the protests of the captain. he
replied that the matter was up
to the decision of his superiors,
and it was his duty to report
it. Then he left.
They were furious with me,
and showed it. ! was traitor,
criminal, and / would. get my
just deserts when the ship an
chored at Gdynia - with me
on board. There was no hope for
me; the British would never dare
to take me off a Polish ship. !
had better prepare for what was
coming to me and so on.
Finally they took me down
into a small cabin, officially
called the ships sick room. 1t
was below the waterline, with
a strong lock on the door, and
a heavily barred window. There
I was left. never alone. There
was always some member of
the crew with me, specially de-
tailed to keep an eye on me
and. presume, to work on my
morale.
I learned many things about
myself in those days, all of the
worst possible kind. I learned
what would happen to me and
to my family, who also would
have to suffer for my mad bid
for freedom. I was told that I
could consider myself lost, but
still I did not believe it-not
even when they told me two
days later. on Friday. that the
British authorities could not
take any action.
Asked to Recant.
An official of the Polish con-
sulate in London came on board
specially to see me, and sang
a different tune. He told me
that I had made a mistake, but
was a young man and did not
understand. There was still time
for me to recant. to return to
the true fold. The Peoples De-
mocracy tempers its severity
with pity toward men who show
repentance and are ready to
mend their ways. To show that
I was on the proper road ! only
had to declare that it was all
misunderstanding; I did not
really wish to escape. / had just
launched on a mad jaunt and
now wanted nothing better than
to be returned to my mother
land.
Stubbornly. firmly, I repeated;
I did not wish to go back, I
wanted to be delivered to the
British.
"The British will putt you in
prison. !" the man said. "They
always do that to stowaways."
II prefer to go to a British
prison than to return to Po-
land!" ] shouted.
And End to His Patience.
That put an end to his pa
tience, and he also shouted back,
calling me terrible names.
They took all my clothes away
from me, and I was left naked,
wrapped in a blanket. From
time to time, various faces
thrust themselves between the
bars of the cabin window, angry
faces, jeering faces splitting
abuse. Once, man peered in
who did not look like a Pole.
And then a woman who made a
terrible face at me.
The man did not say a word,
but only stared with the deepest
contempt and hatred in his eyes,
as if he wished to communicate
to me some dreadful message.
Later when I was free. I was
shown their photographs: They
were DR.. Joseph Cort and his
wife, Americans sailing for "po-
litical asylum" in Czechoslo-
vakia.
often wonder how it hap
pened that I found enough firm
ness and courage, and also hope.
to sustain the constant pressure.
Was it, perhaps, because through
the walls of my prison another
message spiritual message of
brotherhood and hope was some
how reaching me? Could my
unconscious mind have realized
that outside, on the docks, a
crowd of my own people. of free
Poles. was standing for hours,
for days, clamoring for my free
dom. concentrating all their