The Rescue

There was no way to know that the young boy was weeping as he wailed into the driving wind. "I don't like this story! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!"

Little Jacob Stevens grit his teeth and clenched his fingers around the ship's taut rope railing. Wind-whipped saltwater stung his eyes and the earsplitting storm throbbed through his frail bones. He screamed for his mother, his father, his sister -- but only the shrieking wind answered back.

A low groan trembled through the wood. The ship was dying, its crushed bow grinding against the reef.

This was a nightmare - a story he did not want to be in. "Help me!" he shrieked. He licked his lips, tasting salt. "Help me, God!"

A cold wave crashed against him, and lightning flashed overhead. And in that flash --

He blinked... he'd seen something.

Someone.

Jacob twisted around from his perch on the ship's side, his mouth dropping open at the sight.

"Give me your hand, lad!"

The voice came from a small wooden craft nearby. In the next flash of lightning Jacob could see a stooped man balancing in the boat, an oar in one hand. He didn't recognize the man. Was he somehow from their ship?

Another wave hit, riding along the deck and slamming into Jacob. He spat out the choking salt water and blinked away the stinging in his eyes.

"Give me your hand, lad!"

Though the waves crashed all around, the man's small boat seemed solid, secure. That didn't make sense to Jacob. Why should he leave the safety of such a huge ship for such a weaker, smaller craft? What would his father do? Johansen Stevens often told him tales of the sea, of his great grandfather and how he'd sailed in the treacherous waters near New Guinea. Lost in those stories, Jacob had dreamed of being like that. Of climbing the rigging, seeking adventure...

I want that story, God! Not this!

"Give me your hand, Jacob."

The voice was calm, in control.

Jacob reached out, took hold of a firm and calloused grip.

His situation was now in the hands of this kind stranger.

"Do not be afraid," the stranger said. Then, with expert ease, his rescuer steered the bobbing craft between boiling rocks and rolling waves. Soon, the wind began to diminish, the howling wind quieted, and the fog of crashing water gave way to a calm, deserted harbor. Jacob blinked twice. A golden beach came clearly into view. Land beckoned. Safety. A soft hiss and Jacob felt the bow of the boat arch slightly upward. They were ashore!

Jacob leapt from his seat and onto the sand, his feet relishing the stability of standing on ground that didn't bob and undulate. He laughed, twirling and throwing his hands out to his sides. The sunshine felt wondrous on his face! Oh! He was safe!

He heard laughter, and looked over at his rescuer, a kind smile on his face. He rubbed one of his palms, and Jacob wondered if he'd injured himself.

"Thank you, kind sir! Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Jacob."

"How is it that you know my name?"

The man seemed to look through him. Then he smiled.

"Are you from the ship?" Jacob asked. Before he heard an answer, he looked past the old man. Past... to the ship. His father's ship in the distance.

Lightning flashed, and the ship reared up on the rocks again, white foam spraying over her decks. How could it be so calm here on this island and yet the storm still ravaged the ship?

Jacob's smile dropped and his knees wobbled. "My... my family."

The rescuer looked out to sea, following Jacob's gaze.

"My family, Sir. They're still out there!"

The man took a few steps toward the waterline and knelt down in the sand. A sudden exhaustion seemed to cross his features.

Jacob's mind flashed to Nora, his sister. Younger than he, she wouldn't stand a chance against the sea. And then his mother -- and his father... Were they still below deck? With the water rising around them?

His legs wouldn't hold him now and he let them collapse, landing on his knees in the soft sand next to the man. The joy he'd felt just moments ago vanished. He was safe, yes. But what of his family?

"Oh, God!" Jacob cried to the sky. "Help them, please! Bring them here to safety!"

Jacob heard something next to him. He stole a glance. The man next to him was weeping too.

"Do you know my family?"

"I do."

"Then you know of my father, my mum..." Jacob's grief nearly overwhelmed him.

"And Nora," the man said.

Jacob looked over, his throat constricting.

The man clapped him on the shoulder and rose to his feet staring out to sea.

Jacob looked away as grief rolled over him. He clenched his eyes shut and wept afresh. "Help my family, God. Help them, help them, h...."

Somewhere deep within him a peace settled over his anguished soul. And in that moment he knew that God had heard him; was listening to his simple plea. He didn't need to keep repeating the words. Something had been set in motion. He relished the moment, lost in this calming, abiding presence. The relief so surprised him that he leapt to his feet.

"Sir! Sirrr----" Jacob's voice trailed off, his mouth askance. He jerked his head from side to side.

The man was gone. And so was the boat.

How long had he knelt on the sand?

He shielded his eyes from the sunshine and peered out to sea. In the trough of a wave --- yes, there! The boat seemed so tiny. So far away. It was then that he knew he wanted to be like this man. Strong. Sure. Courageous.

Jacob looked skyward, his heart's plea different now. "God.... help my family. Help them to go to this man."

- - - - - - - -

It felt like being in a dark wooden cage, with ants crawling on her skin. And when Nora Stevens stared down at the dirty water lapping against her knees, she shivered involuntarily, grasping her wet shoulders. The ship had rolled and she'd fallen. To here. To a dark place. She'd landed on some sort of hard burlap before splashing into cold water, drenching her simple dress. Standing, she pushed wet hair from her face and shuffled along the floorboards searching for a door in the plunging darkness.

"Help!" she cried.

Her fingers tingled. Why was that? It felt like things were crawling on her. She shivered and looked at her arms in the dim light. It felt like ants --

Nora screamed. They WERE ants! Hundreds of them! With a flash of lightning from the small porthole she saw that they floated on the water and coated the walls. A big splash on her left, then another. Something else had just fallen from above. Whatever it was, they screeched in the foul, ant covered water. One scratched against her legs and she screamed again kicking it away. Rats. She hated rats.

How had she fallen here? How could she get out?

"Nora!" It was her father's voice. She searched in the dark for him. Where was he?

"Nora! Darling? Where are you?" her mum's voice... from above.

"HELP ME!!!" Nora screamed looking upward in the dark, slapping at the ants near her neck.

A huge CRACK sounded beneath her feet and the water began rising faster. She shivered again, shuffling through the water. Her foot hit something underwater and she quickly stood up on it bringing the water to her knees again. She felt rough planking ahead in the darkness.

"Help me, Mommy! Help me."

The water kept rising.

"Nora." A masculine voice came from the porthole and she turned. Father? But it wasn't her father's voice.

Nora looked over. Had she imagined the --

Her mum's voice sobbed. Nora heard it like she was right above her.

"Nora," the porthole voice said, "step up again. Then raise your arms."

Probing in the water with her foot, Nora discovered a flat surface. She stepped up. The rats screeched, bumping into her again.

"MOMMA! Help me!"

There was a clunking sound from above her head. Nora raised her arms and her hands struck solid wood, beams, then a splintered section, then -- her hands felt a hole. Was this the hole she'd fallen through?

"Nora!"

Nora felt warm hands on hers and in the next moment she was lifted swiftly from her watery prison. The next sensation was the warm, suffocating embrace of her mother. She buried her chin in the soft blouse then looked up, blinking. Her father was rubbing at his eyes. He'd lifted her out. Was he crying? She'd never seen him cry before.

Momma was brushing the ants off quickly. Nora looked down at the hole in the deck and shivered again.

"Nora," Momma looked her straight in the eyes. "Have you seen Jacob?"

"N...No."

"I sent him topside," Father barked.

There was a catch in Momma's voice. "Then why hasn't he come back?" Nora saw her bite her lip. Momma stood quickly. "We've got to leave, Johansen!" Mama set her mouth in a tight line.

Johansen Stevens wrung his hands together and set his legs in a stiffened stance. If he had been crying, Nora couldn't see any indication now. His mouth was set in a determined scowl.

"We can save her. I know we can."

Father thought he could save the ship, Nora thought. Could he really do that? With all the water coming in?

"Johansen! No," Mama cried out. "We have to get off now!"

"Then take Nora... AND GO!"

Nora jumped. Momma did too. Father looked so scared. Maybe Nora needed to convince him. "Father," she began, "please come with--"

"Where's Jacob?" Father yelled, cutting her off. "I told him to go--"

"We're leaving, Johansen." Mama said it firmly, and Nora believed her. "This ship is sinking. Don't let your stubborn pride take you down with it!"

Nora could tell that the words had stung her father. But instead of changing his mind, he started down some dark stairs, mumbling, "...must shore up the..."

Momma swiped at her eyes with a sleeve, then took Nora's hand.

They headed up.

- - - - - - - -

Jacob had returned to a kneeling position in the sand, heart aching for some sort of activity from the ship.

Are You doing anything, God?

He felt a sudden pull on his heart... had he heard something? He looked up.

There, in the waves... The boat was coming back.

And there were three aboard.

Jacob scrambled to his feet for a better look, the unmistakable voice of his mother called out to him over the water. Jacob danced and waved, praying them ever closer to the shore.

Their reunion was watched with tender silence by the old man.

"Where's father?" Jacob asked, searching his mother and sister's faces.

Their dour countenance told him what he already knew.

"We must pray!" Jacob announced with certainty.

Momma seemed to eye him with a new kind of respect. "Yes, Jacob. Pray we should."

The three knelt. Pouring out their hearts for their father's rescue.

- - - - - - - -

Johansen encountered obstacle after obstacle as he descended lower into the ship. Fumbling with a lit oil lamp, he held it overhead and peered into the darkness.

You can't save this ship.

"YES I CAN!" he yelled to the inner voice of warning.

He pushed deeper, the water rising to his chest. Cursing the ship and his lack of navigational wisdom which had led to the ship's demise, he reached up and pounded his fist in aggravation against an overhead beam. Then he screamed in frustration.

Is your family safe?

His family. They mattered to him, didn't they? Then why was he down here slogging through this water rather than seeing to their welfare?

Because this ship is yours a darker voice beckoned.It will never founder.

Not as long as he was in control.

He needed to find the damage, stop the leaking.

And what will you do then? a calmer voice asked.

The ship lurched. A deep, sickening groan, and with the groan, a sudden list to starboard. Johansen bit back a curse as the ship splintered and cracked, the ceiling rotated down, becoming a wall. He slipped as cargo shifted, and lost his balance. He plunged underwater along with the lantern. The cramped room went instantly dark. He fought for something to stand on, smacking his head into some sort of floating object. Panicked, he dodged left and came up, choking water as he held to some sort of hewn beam. All was dark. A sinister darkness.

Your sails are in the water...

"I know! I know!"

You can't save her.

"Oh, God..."

The porthole called. "Take my hand, Johansen."

He blinked. A hand reached out to him. Johansen considered the hand, amazed that he could even see it. Wasn't the porthole underwater?

"Take my hand, Johansen. Trust me."

He reached, desperate, feeling the hand, squeezing. The water rose higher, but it didn't seem to matter anymore.

Johansen closed his eyes, his sensations focusing on the hand. It felt different than other hands. He squeezed tighter, the hand squeezed back in reassurance. He realized the difference then: The palm had a hole in it.

He took a deep breath as the water closed over his face, his ears plugging with muted sounds.

Johansen relaxed as a new sensation washed over him. There was a coolness over his face. Was this what it was like to drown? Shouldn't he be panicking? He relaxed again, the air in his lungs feeling tighter. He breathed out, expecting to hear gurgling, but instead there was only a ... a ... snapping sound? Was that the ship breaking up? Was she finally finished, plunging to the bottom?

The brisk snapping sounded again.

What felt like a breeze hit his face -- again.

Johansen's eyes snapped open.

He stood at the ship's stern, the topside deck spread out before him, sails cracking briskly in the wind. A redish-orange painted the western sky. He still was clasping tightly on the ...hand? No, it wasn't a hand he was holding -- but the ship's wheel!

Johansen turned quickly around. No storm. No waves. No rain. The ship was slightly underway, entering a harbor. Ahead... could it really be?

Johansen instinctively squinted making out four forms in a small craft nearby. He felt a rattle beneath his feet, and knew that that anchor had been lowered. But... lowered by whom?

"Ahoy!" That voice. So familiar. Jacob?

"Papa!" Nora?

Johansen rushed to the railing. People were climbing up the netting... his family! And someone else.

In the next moment they were hugging, crying, a family united.

Johansen pulled back from the embrace and looked into each eye. "H...How is this possible?" he stammered. "We were... she was sinking..."

Behind his Nora he saw a smiling man. The man waved, and Johansen saw a hole in the palm.

"Behold," the man said, spreading his arms wide. "I make all things new."

Johansen just stared, mouth agape. "Is it You?"

The man laughed, a sound unlike any Johansen had heard. "It is me. Do you trust me?" the man asked.

Johansen looked into the eyes of his family again. They were all smiling. "I... I do. I do trust you."

The man walked to the ship's wheel, the rattle of the anchor sounding again. Johansen felt the ship move solidly beneath him. He knew it then. This was not the same ship; it instantly responded to the man's touch. He looked down again at his ship. The wooden deck gleamed as though freshly cleaned and polished, the sails fresh and smooth.

"This is so beyond what I'd ever imagined..." Johansen's voice trailed off. Even his clothes - and the clothes of his family - were new.

The man looked up, and suddenly the golden sails filled, the ship quickly turned out to sea. "Old things have passed away!" the man shouted. "Behold, all things have become new."

The masts strained forward, the deck surging with an unseen power. Johansen and his family stumbled for their balance, laughing at the odd sensation. It was obvious that more than just wind was moving the ship.

His face full of love, the man looked at each. "Your lives before were only the cover page of a grand story I am writing."

"You're writing a story about us?" Momma asked.

The man nodded as the wind stiffened, the ship picked up more speed.

"What happens next?" Nora called out in exhilaration, her golden hair flying in the wind.

The man laughed again and looked up at the straining sails.

"Get ready!" he called.

"Ready for what?" Jacob yelled.

The man winked, a mischievous smile crossing his face.

"Get ready .... for Chapter One!"