Did I ever tell ye about the time that Captain Kingcrab and I sailed to Borneo on a rescue mission of the utmost urgency? It was like this.
“Mr. Bagley!” I heard my name called from across the crowded dining establishment where I had just finished my supper.
“Mr. Bagley!” the call came again.
“Here I be, Captain Kingcrab,” I said, raising my voice to be heard above the crowd.
“Quickly, Bagley, there is not a moment to be lost. We sail on the evening tide!” Kingcrab shouted. “Call in the crew, load the supplies, and make ready for instant departure!”
“Aye, Capn,” I replied, for I knew better than to argue with the Captain when he got that faraway quick gleam in his eye, which he had now for sure. “But what’s the rush?” I asked, as I followed him outside onto the bustling Provincetown cobblestone street.
“I’ve just had a most disturbing meeting with the Reverend from the local church,” he said, striking out for the shipyard at a fast pace. “We have been dispatched to a distant island on an urgent mission of mercy!”
And that’s all I got from him until we walked up the gangplank to the Steady Breeze, a two masted beauty of a sloop that had carried the Captain and me to distant seas on many a voyage.
“One thing, Bagley. Have the carpenter rig the spare storeroom for bunks. We need five small bunk beds, with warm blankets and extra pillows.”
“Extra bunk beds?” I echoed. “And small ones, at that?”
“That’s right, Bagley. See to it right away. We sail on the evening tide!”
He left me staring in wonder. Why on earth would we need five small bunk beds?
I didn’t have long to wait for the answer, at least part of it, for just then the Steward came running up the gangplank, followed by a pair of small children. What on earth was this about?
“Say there, Steward, not so fastl” said I. “What do ye mean, bringing these childs on board with ye?”
“Oh, Mr. Bagley, but it’s Capn’s orders, then, ain’t it? He have here these two children—“ he stepped aside while a pair of sailors hurried between us, carrying sacks of beans and rice to stow below – “young Joey and his little sister Leeka, both to be entered on the rolls as cabin boys for this voyage.” He laid a finger aside his crooked nose. “And they’re the Capn’s nephew and niece then, ain’t they?”
Well, at least that explained two of the five small bunk beds. It was no unusual thing for a ship’s captain to enter a favored young relative on the rolls as a cabin boy, but I still wondered: Why five when we only needed two? And what was this mysterious mission of mercy which seemed to be so urgent?
Nevertheless, our course was clear, and among a storm of hurry we were soon loaded with victuals and water.
The customary orders rang out: “Up anchor! Pull in the gangplank! Cast off the bow line, hoist the mainsail!” And just like that we were away on the evening tide.
It was a long, long voyage for a small sloop, from Provincetown down past the Georgia Islands; put in for ship’s stores at Barbados and again at Montevideo, then around the Horn of South America, through the fierce winds of the Tierra Del Fuego and up, up, up into the broad Pacific.
We sailed for days in the vastness of the sea. Little Joey and Leeka made themselves useful to the crew around the clock, bringing hot cocoa and sandwiches to the Sailing Master and the deck crew when the cold Antarctic winds buffeted us, and bringing cool lemonade and sandwiches when we neared the hot Equator. We ate a lot of sandwiches.
At last we heard the blessed shout from the main mast: “On deck there! Island in sight, two points on the starboard bow!” And there it was: Borneo! A beautiful green island of mystery gleaming in the morning sun!
By late afternoon we had steered into the busy harbor and dropped anchor several furlongs from the wharf, which teemed with activity: Ships and barges of all sizes loading and unloading cargo, men moving horse-drawn carts along the wooden planking and onto the jammed street that ran along the dock. Warehouses lined the inland side of the street with large doors gaping wide, workers moving crated goods in and out. Street vendors hawked their wares, and it seemed every transaction demanded shouting and arguing as money and goods changed hands. It were a veritable beehive of activity.
The Captain invited me to dine with him that evening in his tiny cabin. After we had eaten he spread a printed map of the bay across his table and gestured to the spot where I knew the Steady Breeze swung at anchor.
“Now I can tell you what this is about, Mr. Bagley,” he said. “My friend the Reverend told me under strict secrecy of a nefarious plot afoot here in Borneo. It seems there are three orphan children -- Myra, Nyra, and Tyro – who are being held here against their will by the evil Prince Mugdiwash, an unscrupulous trader. The parents of these children were missionaries to the native population until they went missing several months ago. The Reverend suspects foul play of the worst sort, but in the meantime the children have to be rescued. They are being held aboard the Dark Cloud, one of his cargo ships here” – his hand moved across the paper to indicate a set of anchorages at the end of the dock, not far from where the Steady Breeze lay. I could see someone had made pencil marks to show a ship in a berth near the end.
“I see, Sir,” I said. “That explains the other three small bunk beds, but how are we to get the children? If the Prince is holding them, it must be for ransom or some other reason.” I frowned at the Captain. “He is surely not about to let them go if we simply hail the Dark Cloud and ask for them.”
The Captain smiled grimly. “Not likely, Mr. Bagley, no.” He stared at the harbor map. “We will have to survey the situation and then find a way to gain access to the ship, find the children and free them. Also,” he added, “the children do not know we are coming for them. There may be an added complication of explaining the situation to them to persuade them to come along.” He looked up at me. “It may be quite hazardous, I’m afraid.”
I studied the map. “Hazards we can manage, Sir,” I said with confidence. “These Breezes can handle most anything we ask of ‘em. But we need a plan, Sir.”
There was a discreet knock at the door. Joey, the Captain’s nephew, stuck his head in. “Steward says I may clear the dishes now, Uncle Mellington –“ his face reddened suddenly – “I mean, Captain Kingcrab.” He cast his eyes down in embarrassment then looked up earnestly. “Is this a good time, Sir?” he asked.
Captain Kingcrab smiled at him benevolently and the lad’s face brightened. “Of course it is, Joey. Clear away, man.”
Joey stepped to the table and began stacking dishes. As he did so, I saw his eyes cast over the map spread before us. “Is that the big ship close to us where the other children are playing?” he asked, gesturing to the pencil marks.
The Captain and I shared a glance, then both turned to stare at Joey. With a raised eyebrow, the Captain asked, “Children? What children have you seen there?”
Joey held the dishes awkwardly and I feared he would drop some. “A boy about my age, and two younger girls,” he said, his face clear. “Leeka and I saw them climbing in the rigging. We hailed them but when the sailors heard us talking, they made them come down and go below.” He knit his brow. “They almost seemed afraid. Do you know who they are, Sir?”
The Captain regarded him with interest. “I may at that,” he said. “And were they climbing free?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” answered the young man, balancing the dirty dishes uncertainly. “They were laughing and chasing each other, almost like they had been shut up inside for a long time and finally were let out.”
“I think perhaps that is exactly their situation,” said the Captain, and I looked to him quickly. I had not expected him to take Joey into his confidence.
Captain Kingcrab returned my gaze. “Rescuing them is a delicate thing, Mr. Bagley,” he said, “and I cannot for the life of me cipher a way to get aboard the Dark Cloud and rescuing them without communicating with them beforehand.”
“Rescuing?” asked Joey. “Whatever for? From whom?”
The Captain answered with his own question. “And did you speak with those children indeed?”
“Oh yes,” said Joey again. “Leeka and the girls were real chatterboxes.” He suddenly frowned. “Is that what made the sailors take note, Sir? Have we got them into trouble?”
“No,” mused the Captain, studying the map. “I think maybe you have given us a way to get them out of trouble.” He looked up suddenly, thoughtful. “Go call your sister, I think we need to have a discussion. And pass the word for the Bosun to join us.”
* * * * *
It wasn’t really a plan we hatched; more of a plan to think up a plan. For a few days we waited, biding our time, until our lookout – one of the sailors pretending to work around the Steady Breeze but in truth keeping a sharp eye on the Dark Cloud – quietly hailed the Captain to tell him the young children were once again aloft.
In addition to our longboat, we had a small dinghy aboard – a tiny rowboat used for transferring people and cargo between ship and shore when in port – and it was fitted with a small mast. There was generally a light breeze across the harbor we was in, enough to move the little boat around.
In a few moments we had launched the dinghy with Joey, Leeka and myself aboard. Joey hoisted the sail with impressive efficiency, him having been bred to the sea back home in Massachusetts, like everyone else in his family. I manned the tiller and we sailed in a broad circle around the Steady Breeze, weaving our way in and around the other ships at anchor, seemingly on a pleasant sight-seeing cruise in the harbor.
I steered us close to the Dark Cloud. Our idea was to get a closer look at her and determine a way to get aboard without being seen right off. It weren’t much of a plan.
Netting hung haphazardly over the port side and dropped to the waterline. No doubt this was to provide a way for a man to climb aboard once tied to the larger ship’s side. I saw only a couple of hands about deck and presumed the rest were probably ashore on some business or other.
Leeka was waving energetically to the two girls aloft, who had noticed us. Their brother – his name was Tyro, I recalled – also looked down at us, hearing the girls begin to chatter excitedly.
I moved the tiller to turn broadside to the big ship and Joey expertly trimmed the sail. At that moment Leeka, who had been perched on the starboard rail, looked at me square in the face with an expression I could not fathom, then pushed herself backward over the gunwale. She hit the water with a splash as the dinghy carried on past her, propelled by the wind.
I shouted out involuntarily. “Leeka!” I looked back, suddenly a-frighted, and saw her surface, arms flailing, spluttering.
“Help me!” she shrieked. “I can’t swim!”
Well, now. That were a little white lie if ever I heard one. The girl were a fish in the water; I had seen her, graceful and trim in almost any weather conditions. But here she were, spluttering and crying and making all kind of noise in the calm harbor like a land lubber in a wicked surf. I threw the rudder hard over to come about, and for all Joey’s young seamanship, he fumbled the sail badly, then winked at me, grinning from ear to ear, and we wallowed in the water 50 yards distant from the girl, who continued her screaming.
I looked up at sudden movement aloft on the Dark Cloud and saw the young man Tyro execute a perfect high dive from a yardarm of the main mast. He knifed into the water a few feet from Leeka, came up, and in a moment had his arm under her chin, pulling her backwards through the water to the safety of the Dark Cloud’s climbing net.
I shook my head in wonder. These childs would be the death of me!
Tyro and Leeka clambered up the net and I lost them to sight as they went over the side, safely aboard. I heard running feet and shouting, and knew the sailors had been alerted.
Joey straightened our tiny sail at last, threw me another short grin and a wink, and we made our way back to the side of the Dark Cloud. The face of a sailor, dirty and furious, appeared at the rail 10 feet above us.
“Ahoy there, Dark Cloud!” I called. “We thank ye much for the rescue of our cabin boy! She’s a clumsy one in the water! Do she fare well?”
The man scowled down at me. In heavily accented English he called back, “Wait there a moment! She’s with the childrens here. We’ll be throwin’ her back at ye as soon as she’s up and settled.”
“I thank ye much, Sir!” I said again, and was about to ask permission to climb up myself when Tyro and Leeka appeared beside him. Tyro helped her across the rail. She scampered down the netting, sure-footed.
“And see that ye keep a better eye on her!” called the frowning sailor with an ugly tone in his voice. “These childrens can be nothing but trouble on a man’s ship!”
“That we’ll do, Sir, and a good day to you!” I called as Leeka dropped into the dinghy. Surprised, I saw that she was dressed in dry clothes. I shoved us off from the side of the Dark Cloud with an oar, then as Joey raised the sail I grasped the tiller and steered for the open harbor.
Back aboard the Steady Breeze, Leeka reported her story to the Captain. He looked dismayed to hear that she had deliberately thrown herself overboard, then clucked his tongue and smiled. “Oh, child,” was all he could say.
“But I saw their cabin, Uncle,” Leeka was saying. Unlike Joey, she never called him Captain, and she seemed to get away with it. “Myra and Nyra took me there and Nyra traded me these dry clothes for my wet ones. We’re the same size.” She giggled and took a breath. “Their cabin is just down the aft hatch and behind the ladder. And,” she added proudly, “there’s a shuttered window that opens on the starboard side. It’s tied shut from the outside to keep them in, but if it could be opened, it’s a way they could get out.”
The Captain rubbed his hand over his chin, glancing at the Bosun. When I saw the Bosun give a brief nod and then turn away to speak quietly to a pair of sailors, I knew we had the beginnings of a plan.
“But, Uncle,” Leeka continued, “Tyro took some convincing.”
“Convincing?” queried the Captain. “Whatever do ye mean? Did you tell them we were coming to take them away?”
Leeka nodded. “Yes, and Myra and Nyra were all for it. They miss their Mum and Dad – and don’t worry, I told them I didn’t know anything about where their folks were.” She nodded. “Because it’s true, I really don’t.” She stared defiantly at the Captain, and I knew she were hoping against hope the folks was safe and sound… wherever they were. For myself, I weren’t so sure.
”But the boy,” said the Captain. “What of him?”
Leeka shook her head. “It was strange. It was almost like he didn’t want to be rescued. He said the food was good, and they got to go exercise and play in the rigging a couple of times a week, and he wasn’t sure they should leave.”
The Captain shook his head in wonder, and I knew he was at a loss. To have come so far, and for Tyro to not want to be rescued? I couldn’t understand it.
“But I told him, Uncle, that his parents would want him to come away with us and bring the girls along. I told him, ‘Tyro, don’t you know that you are of a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a people for God’s own possession?’ And that he should let us ‘bring him out of darkness and into God’s marvelous light.’”
I saw the Captain’s eyes crinkle into a smile. “And what did he say when you gave him that piece of your mind, with a Bible verse from First Peter thrown in?” he asked.
“He didn’t want to give in, but Myra and Nyra begged him, and finally he said, “All right, little girl who can’t swim. We’ll go with you!” She paused. “But I told him I could too swim, probably better than him, and once we were all on board the Steady Breeze I would prove it to him!”
* * * * *
It was a dark night, the moon setting just after midnight. The Captain had ordered our longboat launched with a few chosen sailors, led by the Sailing Master, who all made a great clamor of pulling away from the Steady Breeze. They rowed across the bow of nearby ships, shouting and singing loudly, and suddenly veered into the bow of the Dark Cloud, carrying on as though they had been at a party ashore and had lost their way back to their own ship.
The Sailing Master had them back oars just before they collided with the Dark Cloud. The small bump, although it did no damage, rocked both vessels and brought the sailors aboard the larger ship running forward to see what was about. It was a clever diversion for what came next.
At that moment the Bosun and Leeka scrambled up the climbing net, Joey and me having delivered them to the port side in the dinghy. When they dropped soundlessly to the deck above I knew they would be scuttling down the aft hatch. I muttered a quick prayer for their safety. We backed the small craft away quickly and, rowing around under the stern, came up on the starboard side where the promised shuttered window stood wide open. An hour before, our sailors had taken the dinghy alongside, slipped up and cut through the lines that held the window shut.
As we watched, the Bosun appeared at the open window and silently tossed us a line. I held it tight and down came the two girls – who both appeared to be giggling quietly – followed by Leeka, then Tyro, and at last the Bosun, who pushed the shutters closed and shook the line free as he dropped into the overcrowded little boat. We rowed away a distance, covered by the night, until we could safely turn, hoist our little sail, and return to the Steady Breeze.
We had done it! Tyro, Myra and Nyra were safe aboard, the sailors had noisily disengaged from the Dark Cloud with shouts and empty threats angrily thrown from both sides, and the longboat and dinghy were quickly recovered.
Joey carried himself proudly for his part in the escape, and Leeka strutted like a little princess surveying the people of her kingdom. I were proud of them both, as was the Captain.
And you would think that would be the end of the story. And it was, until the following morning, just after breakfast. The Steady Breeze was heeling over nicely, bound due east under a fair following wind, when we heard the lookout say, “On deck there! Sail ho!”
“Where away?” cried Captain Kingcrab, taking up his telescope.
“Just abaft the port quarter, sir,” replied the lookout, pointing behind us. “It’s barely visible near those rain clouds on the horizon, but it seems to be gaining on us, Sir.”
The Captain was up in the shrouds, one arm and both legs entwined in the lines to hold him steady while he gazed through the extended telescope. “As I have long feared,” he said. “It is a three-masted ship flying a black flag.”
The Sailing Master and the Bosun exchanged a look.
“Does that mean, sir…” I began.
“That’s right, Mr. Bagley,” replied the Captain. “It appears to be Big Nose Bilgewater, the Pirate of the South Seas, and he is giving us chase.” Then collapsing the telescope and raising his voice, he shouted, “Sailing Master, make your course East by Southeast! Bosun, more sail! All she will carry!”
And thus began a long and harrowing stern chase, which adventure you might hear about in another story at another time.
Author’s Note
This is a story I performed for our church AWANA group (Approved Workmen Are Not Ashamed, 2 Timothy 2:15) in January 2017. I did this both for the younger group (pre-K through 2nd grade) and the older kids (3rd through 5th grade) in separate sessions. A four-part story, we did one episode each Wednesday evening for a month.
The AWANA Commander had asked me to do lessons of my own creation on the relevant scripture memory verses that month, which were 1 Peter 2:9 (“…you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a people for God’s own possession, that you may proclaim the excellences of Him Who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light”) and Matthew 5:16 (“Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father Who is in heaven.”)
The first episode highlights 1 Peter 2:9; the other episodes feature Matthew 5:16. Granted, the storyline is a little tortured to make the verses fit… be that as it may, it seemed to hold their attention.
The narrator is a Mr. Bagley, first officer of the Fierce Gale, a square-rigged commercial sailing vessel hailing from Provincetown, Massachusetts, perhaps at the end of the 19th century. (Episodes 1 and 2, however, feature the Steady Breeze, a smaller sloop; the Captain and crew are promoted to the larger Fierce Gale for Episodes 3 and 4. This can admittedly cause confusion, but the smaller sloop is required for the plot.) The main character, apart from the narrator himself, is Captain Kingcrab, in command of the Fierce Gale. The Gale is an unarmed vessel belonging to an undefined enterprise known as The Company, which has shipping business all over the world. It is a happy ship with efficient, experienced sailors, notably the Steward, the Sailing Master, and the Bosun.
I used minimalist costuming to add a flavor of authenticity. Specifically, I purchased the Skipper’s Hat of Gilligan’s Island fame, available on the internet for about $15. An oilskin jacket or vest would have been a nice touch but was unavailable to me at the right price (free), so I settled for just the hat. Because of the nature of the audience (and the parents), I chose not to sport a corncob pipe.
Mr. Bagley, like Capt. Kingcrab, is a man born and bred to the sea. A prototypical New England fisherman, he is more at home on the water than the land.
Bagley speaks with a pronounced New England accent with a hint of Scottish brogue. Words employing “ir” are pronounced as “ohr”, such that “sir” become “sorr”, “were” becomes “worr”, and so forth.
In addition, archaic mannerisms creep into the speech, for example:
“A difficult task lay before us, but it was necessary for us to attempt it,” would be rendered: “It worr a hard task be lyin’ before us, but thar were nothin’ for it but to do our vurry best.”
Certain oddities add a surreal nature to the narrative: “childs” instead of “children”, “ye” instead of “you”, “were (worr)” instead of “was”. “I worr an old seadog much accustomed to the dangers of having these childs aboard, and if ye think I be comfortable with such, ye would be bein’ a-wrong.”
This manner of speech allows Bagley’s character to be distinct from my own normal mode of speaking and (hopefully) enables the listener to suspend disbelief and immerse himself in the story.
At an abstract level, having Mr. Bagley recall a sea-story that explains the impact of letting “your light shine before men” is more memorable than merely preaching that one should do so. Not to mention more entertaining.
Each episode runs about 20 minutes, but Episode 3 has so much packed into it that the narrator must move right along to fit the schedule.
An additional note about Episode 3: This involves a harrowing escape down a fast river with a waterfall. After the episode, I removed the hat and spoke to the children out of character with a stern warning: Stay away from fast-moving water! Not even the strongest swimmer can expect to fight a fast current, much less a waterfall. It’s just a story!
A similar warning could be issued about entering a burning structure, as in Episode 4.
Finally, an historical note: Mr. Bagley’s character is made up out of whole cloth, based entirely on a single line spoken by U.S. Navy Commodore George Dewey to Captain Charles Gridley in Manila Bay, 1898, during the Spanish-American War. The U.S. squadron opened the attack on anchored Spanish warships when Dewey issued his famous order to Gridley, Captain of his flagship USS Olympia, “You may fire when you are ready, Gridley.” This line appears in slightly different form in Episode 2 at the fictional Corwellian Narrows.
Curt Ghormley
Benton, Kansas, December 2017
Captain Kingcrab and the Harbor Escape