A Collection of Stories

The Little People

THERE were four of them: the doctor, the first mate, the preacher, and the captain-an unusual combination of medicine, leadership, and holy words, if I do say so myself. But there they were that crisp Sunday afternoon ready to drift into unbeknownst waters with a small parcel of necessities per man.

"Are you ready, lads?"

"Aye, captain!"

"We be sailin' yonder aboard Precious Hope an' may our voyage be a prosperous one, me hearties! May the wind an' seas be in our faver, an' a speedy return welcome us home!"

"Aye, aye!" they yelled from the bottom of their bellies. A merry and steadfast crew boarded the gallant ship, ready and willing to face any enemy and hardship awaiting them across the seven seas.

Soon, however, victorious shouts and joyous merrymaking came to a standstill; days turned into weeks and weeks to months. Rations were nearly gone, and like a patient ghost, death looked over the humble seafarers with a song on the wind:

"Oh, ye sailor, ye sailor

Tee-da-dee-da-ho

Armed with fortune and valour

Tee-da-dee-da-ho!

Ever bound to the ship

Ever bound to the sea

Bear forth torture and labour,

Till death do covet ye!"

And weary yet diligent bodies toiled away, quietly awaiting the inevitable misfortune that would be upon them. They looked at one another, their curious, frightened eyes bearing the questions none dared say aloud: "Who among us will be the first to die? Is it you? You, perhaps...?" and going about their duties, they watched and waited. But among them was one with unwavering hope and a faith that made him glow despite his ragged appearance, dishevelled hair and wiry frame. One with eyes as clear as crystal, brown skin as radiant as sunshine and a smile so pure and genuine one would swear angels breathed on him in the night. This one cheerfully hummed a tune among this desolate crew with a delightful trill which would undoubtedly meet death with open arms and heart. As his song surely spoke volumes:

"Mercy and grace by the hand of my Lord

Who grants to me another beautiful day

I'll yield and serve with a gladdened heart

Till the day He doth carry my soul away"

This was our preacher, or The Preacher, as the crew called him. His roots lay in the heart of bright Africa with his grandmother, and though his memory of her was faint, her teachings were strong as black coffee, and he nourished his young soul in tidings of joy despite those desperate times. When his fellow mates began pulling straw to decide which would sacrifice himself to the sea for the sake of those who remained, he neither shrank nor prayed for a way out, but pulled his straw like the others. None could deny that this lad had a heart pure as gold, as brave as a lion, and a will stronger than steel. And so, the preacher had gained the crew's favour, as well as that of his God, it seemed.

The doctor became a chum of our dear preacher, and he served the dying, ill, and wearisome crew with a fatherly glow and patient hand. Few wished to meet death without a heartfelt prayer or song of peace from the lad whose voice made some cares and troubles lighter and easier to bear and, with his brother by his side, the good doctor made the dark road of passing clearer for the many who had to travel by it.

Our captain was a stern fellow who saw his goal with the clarity of an eagle after prey. He was one to be reckoned with, and if anyone but the crew met him, one would likely consider him cruel and bereft. But his shipmates would find such an opinion unjust, outrageously barbaric, and a case of slander! To call the great Captain Hutt cruel and to leave it at that would be doing him a disservice; for he, though obstinate, was not heartless and would, in dire situations, put his crew's needs before his own. He considered loyalty and honesty primal attributes of a man, (funny considering he's a pirate heart soul!) and knew very well that a crew was only as good as the captain who led them. So, in times of peril, it was the council of Captain Hutt that drove men out of their despair; it was his booming voice of confidence, his skill at the helm, and his unwavering faith of a glorious loot awaiting them that drove them on, for his faith in them was contagious, and each man meant to do their part. And no matter how many times they considered mutiny, it was Captain Hutt who brought them down from the staircase of tyranny.

The Precious Hope sailed on with purpose and endured much hardship, but she sailed steadily on and pillaged the sea with a fortitude astounding to all who witnessed, remembered and retold her glorious past-

The clang of the bell caused the four tousled heads to spin in the house's direction.

"Oh, there's the bell, Thomas! Elizabeth Ann said there's to be cake today and we have to hurry or else the grown-ups'll eat all the jam tarts!"

"But I was in the middle of the story and didn't even get to introduce my character!" Thomas said, complainingly.

"I was really waiting for his character, Sebastian," said one dreamy-eyed lad with his chin in his hands. "I'm sure it would've been riotously titillating."

"And it would have! There was going to be a storm and sea monster and a mermaid and everything!" said the narrator with a dramatic waving of hands.

"Oh, how prettily delightful of you to add mermaids, Tommy!" said a sweet, curly haired lass with an approving nod. "Oh Seb, do let him finish. We can ask Elizabeth Ann for a few more minutes, can't we? Jonathan and I do so wish to hear the rest."

"Nonsense, Em," he said, already on his feet and dusting at his trousers emphatically. "I shan't have cold tea, and there'll be plenty of time for stories and such nonsense later." Funnily, it had been his idea to story-play in the first place, but as a delectable meal was to be had indoors, his interest in play dwindled like a wood fire thoroughly doused with water.

"Never mind Sebastian, Thomas," said Jon with a smile in his dreamy eyes. "You'll write a book one of these days and I'm sure it'll be a sensation. There's a story-teller in you yet."

"Perhaps I might, but Father says writing books doesn't pay and would be a terrible profession to pursue. Besides, no one would want to read my book." He cast a saddened eye at the house where Sebastian had hurried away to.

"Don't speak such rubbish, Tommy," said Em, in a mixture of playful determinedness and girlish optimism. "Of course, someone will read it. You've got us for friends, you know."

"Emily's right, old boy, and you can bet your top button that we'll be by you no matter what. Sebastian too."

And the little ones, with an imagination most fitting for children, sailed towards the house across the seven seas of grass with mermaids and grouchy sea captains calling them home....