Once upon a time a storm churned the open seas. A schooner fought the waves for days before finally surrendering to the wind. It broke apart and sank, scattering debris across the gray waters.
But not all was lost. One lifeboat bobbed on the surface, and four strong men managed to make their way to it and drag themselves in. There they huddled for interminable hours, while the storm slowly spent its force. When the sea finally calmed, they lifted their arms and voices together in thanksgiving to their merciful Creator.
Turning their attention to their unresolved peril, they reviewed their situation, only to discover that they had escaped with little more than the clothes on their backs. There were two bits of good news, though. The first was that the boat, though heavy with seawater, was intact, along with its rudder. Equally pleasing was the discovery of a small sail wrapped around a mast, and that the boat was designed to seat the mast. This gave cause for hope.
The men then began an assessment of the company. There could be no doubt that three of the men were landsmen, while the fourth was a sailor. “Friend,” said the cleric to the sailor, “before we elect you captain, would you mind sharing with us your view on sacred baptism?” “Well, friends,” responded the sailor with equal civility, “I have no strong opinion on the matter, but will say with a certainty that I wish to avoid immersion for the foreseeable future.”
The others did not seem amused by this joke. They frowned and they huddled together.
Some weeks later the small boat with the four men still in it washed up on shore. The pitiable quartet was found by a local boy who fetched his father who, in turn, fetched the constable.
“There weren’t never a doubt about them bein’ alive, George,” said the local to the constable.
“No, John,” replied the constable, “These men died long before landing on this shore.”
“The one here in the bow, by the looks of him, is a sailor. What great callouses he has!”
“Odd, he is tied and gagged,” replied the constable.
“The poor man must have died of thirst.”
“See how the others were all tucked under the sheet? Why did they not sail? Well, there skin is not blistered, anyway, and they will look fine when laid out for burial.”
“I don’t like the looks of all this,” added the constable. “But then, there’s nobody left to blame, I suppose. If somebody wronged someone, the price is already paid, surely.”
“I suppose the boat will cover burial costs, though,” added the local, trying find the cloud’s silver lining.
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