The Story of the Young Sailor
There once was a great ship with two great masts and four great sails docked at Sheep Island. Each sail was emblazoned with the family crest of Captain Smythe. He was a fine captain that treated his crew well.
A young sailor, named Marco, was joining the crew for his first voyage. At fourteen years of age, he wanted to learn the ways of the sea. His parents had said, “If you must go to sea, please remember, always wear your woolen cap at night. Always do exactly as Captain Smythe commands. And always remember, we love you.”
Marco took his cap and bible in his knapsack, threw it over one shoulder and started to board the great ship. As he crossed the gangplank, he stopped to salute Captain Smythe. The captain said, “Are you the new sailor?”
Marco replied, “Aye, captain, I am Marco.”
Captain Smythe commanded, “Come aboard, Laddy!”
They set sail immediately. There was a brisk wind and the tide was going out. It wasn’t long until they were far from Sheep Island which had always been Marco’s home. As Marco looked back he could barely see the tips of the snowcapped mountains. His parents lived at the foot of these mountains in a small cabin. He was sad to leave his home but with all the excitement of his new adventure at sea he had little time to think about it.
There were sails to rig, decks to swab, vegetables to wash and peel. Marco would serve the older sailors their meals and grog. By the end of the day Marco was exhausted.
That night as he collapsed in his tiny bunk, the sea was calm. She rocked the great ship to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. Inside her hull Marco felt secure and fell fast asleep. He dreamed of his home back on the island. He dreamed of his parents in the small cabin by the snowcapped mountains. He dreamed of his mother next to the boiling pot that would be their evening meal. He dreamed of his father sitting by the fire warming himself after a hard day tending their sheep with the help of their sheep dog. He dreamed of his young sister playing with the cat by the fire. He dreamed he saw himself sitting by the fire reading a book of adventures about the great ships that sailed the sea.
When he woke, he was surprised to find himself aboard the great ship. He immediately got to work serving breakfast. Then he scrubbed down the captain’s quarters with a stiff brush and soapy water. When he finally came above deck, he was startled to find that he could see nothing but water all around. He looked to the bow of the ship. There was nothing but waves as far as the eye could see. He looked to the stern. There was no trace of the mountains. He looked to port. There was nothing but blue, shining sea. He looked to starboard. Again his eyes were met with the vast expanse of unbroken ocean.
He could see flying fish darting out of the crest of one wave into another. He had read about them in his sea adventure books but he had no idea that they were real. The fish had wings. They’d jump out of one wave and fly for as much as a fathom until they splashed back into another wave. He was fascinated by their silver bodies glinting in the sunshine.
Marco had no time for this for it was his job to swab the deck everyday. As he worked, he heard the cries of seagulls who would dive the deck for any morsels of food left by the seamen. Sometimes he would see the spout of a great whale. A white plume of water would blow in the wind as high as the masts of the great ship He could not believe the size of the leviathan. It was larger than he had ever imagined when he read his sea adventures. He was amazed by the awesome power of the gigantic beasts but he knew that aboard the great ship he was safe. Marco was proud to be a member of the crew and felt sure that someday he would make a good sailor.
When the sea was calm, dolphins would swim in the wake of the great ship’s bow. They would race and dive over each other, matching the ship’s speed. Their antics reminded Marco of the way the lambs would frolic on the hillsides of his island home as his father would herd them with their faithful dog. Another day passed. As the sun set into the ocean, Marco was exhausted from his day’s work.
The ocean rocked him to and fro, to and fro, to and fro in his tiny bunk . He fell fast asleep. Again Marco dreamed of his homeland, the island with the snowcapped mountains, the cabin on the hillside, the white sheep, and the fire warming his mother, father, and sister while the cat and dog slept. Again, he saw himself at home in the dream.
In the morning he was not surprised to find himself on board the great ship. He was slowly becoming a man of the sea. By mid afternoon the wind had raised itself into a gale. The great ship was racing along so swiftly, Marco could hear the masts creaking under the force of the storm. The sailors were tying themselves to the rigging so that they would not be washed overboard. The waves lifted over the ship and crashed down on the sailors beating them to the decks. Marco stayed below frightened as the storm increased all day. At times the ship would be down in the trough between two mountainous waves completely surrounded by white foaming water. Then the ship would mount to the top of one of the colossal waves only to crash down again.
Below deck anything that was not tied down was banging from bulkhead to bulkhead. Marco had to jump out of the way to keep from being crushed. He began to worry that the ship would sink for water was pouring down from above. The sailors above deck were shouting to each other, “Belay that sheet! Mind the yardarms! Lower the mainsail! It’s a Northerly!” Marco had read about the dreaded Northerly storms that would ravage the ocean and sink ships. He wondered why he had ever come aboard a ship. Wasn’t he happy to stay at home tending the sheep, safe in his island home? But, it was too late now. He was caught in the midst of a roaring hurricane in the Northern Sea.
He climbed into his bunk but there was no way to sleep. Instead of being rocked to and fro, to and fro, he was being smashed from side to side. The great ship was lifted higher than before and CRACK! a bolt of lightning struck one of the masts. The light blinded the sailors. The mast was split. Marco was thrown completely out of his bunk against the hull. He began to feel very sick. He was wet. He was cold. And he was frightened.
Morning finally came but only a dim light filtered through the clouds that had not yet parted. Rain was pouring down but the wind had settled somewhat. The great ship was not being tossed around like a toy as it was in the night. Occasionally one of the older sailors would come below to rest from their night’s struggle. By noon the clouds stopped pouring out their deluge. A narrow shaft of light broke through the clouds. The sea was calming. Marco realized that he was going to survive after all. The ship was not going to sink. Captain Smythe and the crew would make it safely to their destination.
Marco felt small and ashamed at the fear he had felt crouched in his bunk during the storm. He came up on deck to Captain Smythe and said, “Captain, I was so frightened. I will never make a sailor.”
Captain Smythe smiled and said, “Marco, my young lad, do not worry. If you were not afraid last night, you would not be alive, you would not be human. Last night was the worst storm we have passed in many voyages. All sailors have a healthy fear of the sea. If you do not respect her, you will end up beneath her. Every sailor must learn that her power is much greater than any sailor or any ship. Oh, Laddy, do not be ashamed. We were all frightened. Even I, Captain Smythe, was fearing for his own life in the midst of the storm last night.”
Marco said, “Oh, I can’t believe you were scared too.”
The captain assured him, “Aye, Laddy, I was quite worried, especially when the mast cracked!”
As Marco looked up he saw the top of one of the masts split right down the middle. Captain Smythe commanded, “Tomorrow you must climb up and repair her.”
Marco gasped, “Me, Captain?”
“Aye, Laddy. It is a long climb and all my sailors are much too weary from the night’s battle.”
That night the sea was calm again. The gentle waves rocked the great ship to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. But, Marco was too excited about tomorrow to sleep. There were no dreams, no thoughts of his island home, no visions of himself safe with his family. All his thoughts were focused on climbing the mast.
First thing that morning Captain Smythe came down to rouse Marco, “It’s time, Laddy. We must fix the mast.”
Marco pulled on his coat, pulled on his woolen cap, ran up the ladder to the deck. He began climbing the mast hand over hand, hand over hand, hand over hand. Half way up he looked back down. The great ship looked so small, he couldn’t believe his eyes. He seemed to be flying above the water. He knew he had to keep climbing to the crow’s nest. If he kept looking down he would be sick and fall. He climbed hand over hand, hand over hand, hand over hand. He made it to the crow’s nest. He breathed a sigh of relief but he didn’t dare look down. He quickly lashed the split mast with rope round and round and round. He drove spikes through the mast until it was secure again. He ran the sheets back over the rigging so the sailors could once again raise the sails. He rested for a moment.
Captain Smythe hollered, “Come down, Laddy. You’ve down a fine job.”
Slowly Marco started down foot after foot, foot after foot, foot after foot. Finally he hit the deck. All the sailors were gathered around the mast. Captain Smythe ordered, “Three cheers for our new sailor, Marco. Hip-hip!”
And all the sailors shouted, “Hurray!”
Captain Smythe bellowed, “Hip-hip!”
All the sailors cried as one, “Hurray!”
Once more the captain called, “Hip-hip!”
And the men answered, “Hurray!”
That night Marco realized he had become a real sailor for sitting at his place at mess was a cup of grog. In his dreams that night, he saw his mother and father, his sister and their cat and dog warming themselves by the fire in their cabin. But this time, he did not see himself with them.
The voyage lasted months and Marco learned to love the sea. When the great ship returned to Sheep Island, he had a pocket full of coins, many stories to tell his mother and father, and a sea adventure under his belt. He ran ashore and all the way to the small cabin on the hillsides of the snowcapped mountains. His mother greeted him with open arms. His father came in from the hills and patted him on the shoulder. Marco told the tale of the Northerly storm and how he had been the one to climb the mast to repair it.
That night the cat fell asleep, then the dog fell asleep, and then his sister fell asleep. His mother and father stayed awake and talked with Marco. They asked, “Are you going to go on another voyage?”
Marco answered, “Yes, indeed. I think I will always be a sailor.”
His father laughed, “No doubt you will.”
His mother said, “We do worry about you when you are at sea but I’m so glad you are home safely.”
His parents went off to their bed in the loft of the cabin. Marco curled up with the dog and cat by the fire. The crackling of the fire reminded him of the splashing of the waves against the hull of the great ship. Lying on the rug, he could almost feel himself being rocked to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. Soon he was fast asleep. That night Marco dreamed of the great ship with two great masts and four great sails. He dreamed of the silver flying fish, of the spouts of the whales, and of the dolphins frolicking in the wake of the ship’s bow. He dreamed of nothing but water on every side. And on the deck of the ship he saw a seasoned sailor named Marco.
The Young Sailor by C. Walker ©03