New York - The Novel

not only your chest and eyes they inspect—they have special doctors there to spot the ones who are crazy. They chalk a cross on their chest and they make them sit on a bench, and then they talk to them. And in a minute …” he made a gesture—“it’s over. They can always tell. They are specialists, from the finest lunatic asylums in America. So they will understand at once that your brother is crazy, and they will send him back to Italy.
Ecco
. You will see.”
    “Do not say it, Giovanni. I will not listen,” his mother had cried.
    But Salvatore had listened. And when they got up on deck, he had tugged at his father’s sleeve and whispered: “Is it true, Papa, that they will send Uncle Luigi home because he is crazy?”
    His father had looked down, with a serious expression.
    “Shh,” his father had said, “it’s a secret. You mustn’t tell anybody. Promise me.”
    “I promise, Papa,” Salvatore had said. But it was a terrible secret to keep.
    It took an hour before they were let off the ship. His father, Giuseppe and Uncle Luigi each carried a heavy suitcase. Uncle Luigi’s case was made of rattan, and it looked as if it might burst open at any moment. There was also a wooden trunk which was taken across on a trolley. The steerage passengers were led straight along the wharf to where a barge was waiting. His father made them hurry, to be near the front. He had talked to men who’d come back to Italy from America, so he knew exactly how things were done.
    “They sometimes keep you waiting for a whole day on the barge, before they let you off at Ellis Island,” he’d been told. “So in this weather, it’s better to be inside than on deck.”
    Once they were all on board the barge, it only took a few minutes to get to the island. And though they had to wait a while, within another hour they had joined the slow line making its way toward the big doorway.
    The main facility on Ellis Island was a large, handsome red-brick building, with four stout towers at its corners, protecting the roofline ofthe huge central hall. The line of people moved slowly but steadily toward the entrance. When they got there, a man was shouting, and porters were taking people’s bags away. His mother didn’t want to give up her bag, because she was sure it would be stolen, but they made her all the same. Then they entered the vestibule, and he noticed that the floor was covered with small white tiles. There were military surgeons standing here in dark uniforms with high boots, and attendants in white who could speak Italian and tell people what they had to do. Soon Salvatore had several labels pinned on him. He kept close to his mother and Anna.
    Then the men were told to go one way, and the women and children another. So his father and Giuseppe and Uncle Luigi had to leave them. That made Salvatore sad, because he knew his uncle wasn’t coming back, and he called out, “Good-bye, Uncle Luigi,” but his uncle didn’t seem to hear him.
    In front of him, a young doctor was checking everyone’s eyes. Salvatore saw him mark one child with the letter T. When he finally came to the Caruso family, he started with little Maria, probing her eye gently with his forefinger. Then he did the same to Salvatore. And Salvatore was relieved, because his father had told him that they might lift his eyelid with a little buttonhook and that it would hurt and that he must be brave. The doctor carefully inspected Paolo, Anna and his mother, and waved them on.
    There was a broad, square staircase next. His father had warned them all about this. “It is a trap,” he told them. “And you have to be very careful, because they are watching you. Whatever you do, don’t look tired or out of breath.”
    And sure enough, Salvatore saw that there were the men in uniform quietly watching them from the hallway below and from the stairway above. One of the men in uniform was standing at one corner of the stairs, saying a word to people as they passed.
    The family in front of them was large, and the doctors seemed to be taking a long time with them. While this was done, the line was held up, and Salvatore started to get quite bored. But at last the line began to move again. When Salvatore reached the man in uniform, he was asked his name, in Neapolitan so that he should understand, and Salvatore said it loudly, so that the man smiled. But when he asked Paolo his name, Paolo coughed before he gave it. The man didn’t say anything, but he made