“You don’t seem to understand your luck,” said the captain, believing that Karl’s question had wounded Mr. Jakob’s personal dignity, since he had withdrawn to the window, evidently to conceal his agitated face, which he kept dabbing at with a handkerchief. “That’s Senator Edward Jakob who has just introduced himself to you as your uncle. Now a brilliant career awaits you, no doubt completely contrary to your previous expectations. Try to grasp this as best you can right now and pull yourself together!”
“Indeed I do have an Uncle Jakob in America,” said Karl, turning to the captain, “but if I understood correctly, Jakob is merely the Senator’s surname.”
“So it is,” said the captain expectantly.
“Well, my Uncle Jakob, who is my mother’s brother, has Jakob for his Christian name, but his surname would naturally be the same as my mother’s, whose maiden name is Bendelmayer.”
“Gentlemen!” exclaimed the Senator, reacting to Karl’s statement as he cheerfully returned from his recuperative break at the window. Everyone present, except for the harbor officials, burst out laughing, some as if moved to do so, others for no apparent reason.
“But what I said was by no means ridiculous,” thought Karl.
“Gentlemen,” repeated the Senator, “you are taking part, contrary to both my intentions and yours, in a little family scene, and therefore I cannot avoid providing you with an explanation, since I believe only the captain”—at this mention they exchanged bows—”is completely informed of the circumstances.”
“Now I must really pay attention to every word,” Karl told himself, and was delighted to note, from a sideways glance, that life was beginning to return to the stoker.
“During all the long years of my sojourn in America—although the word ‘sojourn’ is hardly fitting for an American citizen, which I am heart and soul—well, during all these long years, I have been living entirely without contact with my European relatives for reasons that, in the first place, have no business here, and secondly, would truly be too painful to discuss. I actually dread the moment when I may be forced to explain them to my dear nephew, and unfortunately it will be impossible to avoid frank references to his parents and their nearest and dearest.”
“He is my uncle, no question,” Karl told himself as he listened; “he’s probably changed his name.”
“My dear nephew is now—let us use the proper word—quite simply cut off by his parents, the same as a cat tossed out the door when it has become annoying. I wish by no means to gloss over what my nephew did to be so punished, but his fault was such that its mere mention is absolution enough.”
“That sounds fair enough,” thought Karl, “but I don’t want him to tell everyone the story. Besides, he can’t possibly know about it. Who could have told him?”
“He was, in fact,” his uncle continued, occasionally rocking forward on his bamboo cane, whereby he did indeed successfully avoid the unnecessary solemnity the situation was otherwise bound to assume, “in fact, he was seduced by a maidservant, Johanna Brummer, a woman of thirty-five. I do not mean to offend my nephew by using the word ‘seduced,’ but it is difficult to find another word equally suitable.”
Karl, who had moved much closer to his uncle, turned around at this point to gauge the reactions on the faces of those present. No one was laughing, they were all listening patiently and earnestly. After all, one does not laugh at a senator’s nephew at the first opportunity that presents itself. The most that could be said was that the stoker was smiling at Karl, albeit faintly, which was encouraging in the first place as a sign of renewed life and pardonable in the second as Karl, in the stoker’s cabin, had tried to keep secret this very same affair that was now being made public.
“Now, this Brummer woman,” his uncle went on, “had a child by my nephew, a healthy boy who was christened Jakob, no doubt after my humble self, who I’m sure was casually mentioned by my nephew but made a great impression on the girl. Fortunately, I may add. For the parents, in order to avoid paying for child support or being further involved in personal scandal—I must emphasize that I am not familiar with either the laws over there or the parents’ situation—therefore, so as to avoid paying for child support and their son’s scandal, they shipped my dear nephew off to America miserably unprovided for, as one can see, so that he would soon, without the miracles that still happen, at least in America, in all likelihood have met his lonely end in some alley near New York harbor if that maid hadn’t sent me a letter, which reached me the day before yesterday after a long odyssey and which provided me with the whole story, a personal description of my nephew, and also, very sensibly, the name of the ship. If my purpose here were to entertain you gentlemen, I could read a few passages of this letter”—he pulled out and flourished two huge, densely written pages from his pocket. “It would surely affect you, as it was written with a somewhat simple yet well-intentioned cleverness and with much love for the father of the child. But I wish neither to entertain you anymore than is necessary to enlighten you nor to potentially wound any feelings my nephew may still harbor; he can, if he so desires for his own information, read the letter in the privacy of the room that already awaits him.”