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.Above them rumbled the ship’s engines.The crew who served them were surly young men who would whisper to each other and then laugh loudly.Their laughter was full of sneers.They seemed uninterested in the children and the mothers and grandmothers.Their whispers and leers were all directed to the young women, like Eleni, who kept their eyes firmly lowered.The crew’s quarters were above them and sometimes above the roar of the engines she could catch traces of masculine voices and shouts.By the third day, the dormitories had begun to smell.The toilets were always overflowing and the combined stench of vomit, discarded diapers and the acrid odour of women bleeding was unbearable.Reveka longed to stretch her legs, to yell and to shout.She wanted to see sun.On the morning of the fourth day she was awoken by a shout from the old woman who slept beside her.They’re calling you.A red-faced young man, his cheeks unshaven and darkening, his white uniform soiled by grease and smoke, was standing in the doorway of the dormitory.The women were laughing at him and making sly jokes that Reveka did not quite understand.They were making fun of his age and his youthful good looks.Look at our brave young sailor, he’s dared to enter the lions’ den.Gushes of laughter.Careful that we don’t eat you up and leave nothing for the birds.Squeals, yelps, hilarity.What do you reckon, Spiridoula, if we left you two alone together how long before you gobbled him all up? Spiridoula, who was nearly sixty, had one dead eye and was missing all her teeth, leered at the blushing young man.His face had become almost purple.Reveka came up to him and tugged at his sleeve.I’m Reveka.He took her to the light.Her father was standing at the ship’s rail, smoking a cigarette and staring out to a sea that was deep and black-blue, an immense dark reflection of the heavens above.Even the ship’s stack, which when she had first boarded had seemed immense, towering over the other boats and ships and buildings in the harbour of Piraeus, was now dwarfed by the vastness of the two elements.Her father had turned and smiled.The sun hurt her eyes and she blinked back tears.—What’s wrong, my Reveka?—The sun is hurting my eyes.—Would you prefer to be below deck?She shook her head violently.I want to be up here, but Mrs Kalantzis won’t let me.—She doesn’t mean to be cruel.She’s scared that you will get into trouble.Her father took her hand.The dark grey and silver waves rolled till the horizon; she thought she might see a sea serpent.Her father carried her down some greasy metal steps and they entered a lower deck where massive steel blue and white containers formed an enormous train in the heart of the ship.The men had formed small groups against the side of the containers, sitting on their haunches playing cards, smoking cigarettes, sleeping with their heads on each other’s shoulders.Here she could smell the musty harsh tang of men.The smell of grease and work and the salty sea.Her father pointed to a small clearing on the deck.He sat against the great hulk of one of the containers and began to roll himself another cigarette.—It won’t be long, my little one.Be patient.—When will we see kangaroos? Will there be any in the village in Australia?He laughed out loud.—And what the devil will we do with a kangaroo? I don’t think we can milk them.We can’t even eat them.—I can ride it.He laughed again.—There will be kangaroos everywhere, my little Reveka.Every village in Australia is full of kangaroos.You’ll see.Let’s just pray to God that we arrive safely.—Abruptly, he stopped smiling and pulled her towards him.She felt his hands trace the hem of her skirt.—They’re safe, she whispered to him.He patted her shoulder and she suddenly smelt the sharp whiff of alcohol on him.—You’re a very good girl.He cupped his cigarette from the wind and lit it.Stay up here on deck, you can play here.But don’t leave my sight.I’ll come and grab you every morning.Would you like that?The grin on her face, her father would always remember, was as wide as the sea.She had first created the game with the clouds to keep Angelo out of mischief.Bored at being trapped below with her, he had begun to play tricks on the women, pinching them, moving their things, pulling at their hair.She made him promise that as long as she allowed him outside on the open deck with her, he would stop.When she was younger, she too had been victim to Angelo’s deceits and games.Then, when her mother was still alive, he had barely any time for her.It was her mother that he adored, whose knees he had clung to, whose breasts and thighs he had touched and stroked.Whenever her mother had attempted to take hold of Reveka, cuddle her own daughter, the spiteful boy would pull harshly at his rival’s hair, spit at her, scratch at her.But at other times he would come and sit beside her and play games just like any other child.They would chase each other or play hide and seek, they would run around and around the courtyard or climb down into the cellar and climb the wine vats.—His name is Angel, her mother had told her, he’s an angel sent by God to protect us.But when her father came into the house, Angel would become vicious.It was then he would fly at her, scratching, biting and slapping.On the night her mother died, the boy had come into her bed and kissed her wet cheeks.Can I sleep with you?They had remained friends ever since.She had invented the game with the clouds to keep Angelo out of mischief but very soon she too lived for the game.Huddled between the crevices of two containers, they would look up at the jutting chasm of sky, stare into the clouds and she would tell him what she saw there.And as the ship sailed on, as the sun got hotter and the air became thick with moisture, the worlds in the clouds would change as well.The broad smooth African clouds housed a world of ancient black kings and queens, who rode on lions and tigers and who lived in palaces made of bronze and gold.As they sailed east, the clouds became tinged with blue and silver and became the lands of the cannibals, wiry golden-haired boys and girls who lived on solitary wisps of clouds.Sometimes her father would peek from behind one of the container walls and laugh at her.—Who are you talking to, Reveka?—The Angels.—Good, he would whisper, and leave her in peace
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