by David Riley
The men in the lower deck could tell there was a change in the amount of creaking they were hearing. This gave them a small degree of comfort, but only briefly since the ship was beginning to bob up and down more vigorously with each passing moment as it was slipping back into deeper, rougher water.
The ship was already being pushed further from shore by the winds, diminished though they were by the island. The captain was well aware of the sandbars at Syrtis to the south, and he feared being driven to them by the strong winds. If they were to run aground there, all would be lost.
As soon as the cables were secured around the hull, Rayiz gave the order to lower the sea anchor. They had no way to stop the ship from being blown back out to sea, but they hoped the sea anchor would give enough drag to keep them from getting crossways to the heavy waves. Being capsized by the waves would be worse than running aground on Syrtis.
The men heaved the heavy sea anchor over the stern of the ship, and within minutes, they were turned to the west once again and Cauda slipped slowly behind them. The crew helplessly watched it disappear in the darkness of the storm as they headed into the black unknown ahead of them. Each man silently prayed to his god for safety.
—————
In the hold, the prisoners and guards had been listening to the muffled shouts and bangs and clanks of the activity going on above them. Some of the guards had ventured to the deck to see what was happening and came back to report to their colleagues and word quickly spread. All were hopeful that they were anchoring near the small island to wait out the storm. However, the longer the frantic scurrying sounds went on, accompanied by the urgent shouts, their hope began to fade. Then there was a noticeable increase in the movement of the ship as it was once again buffeted by waves and wind.
Faces fell as the realization spread that it was not yet over. The storm was only a few hours old, and most were still expecting this to be an uncomfortable night and then a return to nicer weather. But Aristarchus could see by Paul’s expression this was not likely the case. He leaned closer and spoke to him in a low voice so as to not alarm the others.
“Teacher, you appear to know something the rest of us do not know. Don’t you think this will be over tomorrow?” he asked, hopefully.
Paul met his gaze and shook his head ever so slightly. “I’m afraid not. I don’t want to cause more worry, but I warned the centurion to not venture out toward Phoenix.”
“What?! Why?” Aristarchus could not completely hide the alarm in his voice. He quickly glanced around to be sure no one else was listening.
“In my prayers yesterday, God impressed upon me that if we left Fair Havens for Phoenix, our voyage would lead to disaster and loss, not only of the ship’s cargo, but possibly of our lives as well. Unfortunately, the opinion of a prisoner does not hold much weight with a ship’s captain and a centurion.”
“What can we do?”
“At this point, all we can do is wait on the Lord and comfort those around us. It is even more imperative that the Gospel be preached if there is a chance we may not reach a safe harbor.”
Aristarchus leaned back, closed his eyes, and began to pray, hoping maybe just this once Paul had misunderstood, but knowing that was unlikely.
—————
Demetrius remained in the shadows, his stomach lurching with the ship, as he strained to glean any information he could. Anger was rising in him. Once again, this devil, Paul, had caused him more trouble. If it wasn’t for Paul, he would not have climbed aboard this cursed ship. He glared in the direction of the prisoners as he fumed and fantasized about ways to kill him. He could see all of the soldiers and knew it would be foolhardy to try anything now. This storm couldn’t last forever, and once everyone relaxed and spread out around the ship, he would find a way. For now, he needed to get some fresh air to settle his stomach. The hold was really beginning to reek with the stench of fear and seasickness.
He pushed up from the floor where he sat, holding tightly to the bulkhead with his good right hand as the ship bobbed in the waves. He made his way to the ladder and climbed. The sudden cold wind took his breath and he had to squint against the driving raindrops. His stomach quickly calmed with the cool fresh air, but he grew more alarmed as he saw the lightning flashing in the clouds and the sails stowed.
He saw the crew working at securing any loose items on the deck. They hurried from one item to the next, seemingly unaffected by the movement of the deck. Seeing the ease with which they moved about, Demetrius stepped out from the ladder and immediately his foot slipped on the wet deck. He flailed his arms and narrowly avoided falling several feet back down the same hatch from which he had just emerged.
He cautiously got back to his feet and steadied himself as he tried to time his next steps. When the ship seemed to settle down into a valley between the waves, he quickly and gingerly made his way to the railing and grasped it firmly just as the ship began climbing up the next wave. Holding on tightly, he gulped in deep breaths of cool air, clearing the heavy stench of the hold from his nostrils. That many men below decks in a storm could quickly foul the air.
He gazed out into the darkness of the sea around him. There were still a few lanterns on the deck, and they cast a small halo of light but not much could be seen. The sea looked restless, covered in whitecaps and sending spray up onto the deck as the ship crashed into each wave with a shudder that caused his legs to wobble. He was overcome with the sense that he was but a speck in a vast, dark, chaotic world with no peace to be had—a fitting description of his life since the fire.
Even in this moment, tightening his grip on the railing, he felt abandoned. He had devoted himself to Artemis throughout his life and for what?! He had made it his life’s work to create the silver shrines that were used in worship. He had visited the temple (and the temple prostitutes) regularly. To cover his bases, he had prayed to other gods as well, for safety, health, prosperity, and recognition. When Paul and his henchmen sought to spread their cult of following this Jesus, he had been the one to stand up against them, organizing his fellow silversmiths to protest and riot, expelling them from the city.
With all that he had done, the gods owed him! Yet where were they now, when he was alone, in a storm in the ocean, mere feet from his enemy, Paul. If they really existed, they would give him vengeance for the loss of his livelihood, his position of respect in the city, and especially for his burned wife and son! It was too much for him. He had long ago decided the gods were a farce! The only advantages you gained in this life were the ones you grasped with your own hands, and now he only had one good hand! If you did not place your own needs above everyone else’s, no one would do it for you! Religion was for the weak and foolish. With these thoughts in his mind, he looked defiantly up into the storm and shook his fist.
Just then, with a high-pitched sizzling and a smell of ozone, a bolt of lightning crashed to the ocean just yards from where he stood. His vision was blinded by the brightness of the flash and his hearing dulled by the incredibly loud boom. The deck convulsed with the shock wave and he was lifted from his feet as he felt himself thrown forcefully into the railing!
His hands grabbed at anything he could touch but the railing was too smooth and wet to get a grip. His center of gravity caused him to topple headfirst over the railing toward the dark sea. He heard his own voice crying out “Oh God! Save me!” Just as he was beginning to plummet, his right hand grasped one of the cables that had been passed under the hull of the ship. There happened to be a knot just below where his hand gripped it, and he was able to halt his progress toward the certain death of the dark, stormy sea. He held tight with his right hand and flexed his feet over the top of the railing as he tried to push himself back up. His left hand, weak and scarred as it was, found a ridge on the outside of the ship’s railing, and he was able to inch his way backward until his hips were able to flex over the railing and his feet found purchase on the deck.
He slumped to the deck as he tried to slow the hammering
of his heart and catch his breath. His hands were shaking and his stomach lurched as he realized just how close he had been to dying. After a couple of minutes, he had calmed enough to regain his anger. Didn’t this just prove his point!? The gods were not real or they would have kept this from happening! He carefully got to his feet and stumbled to the ladder, returning to the darkness and anonymity of the hold below.
—————
Luke had been busy with people coming to him for care since the storm started. Most were seasick, but there were a few crew members with various injuries. One had injured his arm hauling the boat up out of the sea, sustaining a nasty rope burn that needed bandaging. Another had slipped on the wet deck and broke two of his fingers as he fell. Through all of it, Temeros was observing and helping as the doctor directed him. He seemed to have a natural gift for evaluating various injuries and helping with the treatments.
Now, after a few hours, the passengers and crew had seemed to adjust to the storm, at least for the moment, and there was finally a lull in their duties. Luke saw Temeros stretching and looking worn out.
“Why don’t you take a break? Go out and get some fresh air. I can finish up with these patients. I really appreciate your help.”
At this, Temeros smiled, pleased at the praise. It was not something he had heard for most of his life and it was nice to be appreciated. “Thank you,” he said. “I think I’ll take you up on the offer. I won’t be too long.”
“Just be careful, and watch your step on the deck!” Luke warned. “You’ve seen what can happen!” he said with a wry smile, nodding in the direction of the two injured crewmen still recovering in the cabin.
He nodded and turned to the door leading out onto the deck. He could hear the whistling of the wind, and he steeled himself as he walked out into the cold rain. He made his way toward the back of the ship. The flashes of lightning in the clouds gave intermittent glimpses of the deck, and he was cautious to keep a firm hold on the railing.
He stopped at the stern of the ship as he steadied himself against the rocking of the boat. The wind was blowing in his face, pelting him with raindrops. It was not unpleasant, though. He had been perspiring as he cared for the sick and injured and the fresh air rejuvenated him. He peered out into the darkness behind the ship, seeing the wake and the whitecaps faintly in contrast to the blackness of the sea. From this vantage point, there was no recognizable landmark, and the sky was filled with black clouds that were seen in the bright flashes. There were no stars visible and the moon was nowhere to be seen either.
He thought over all that he had learned from Paul and Luke in the past few days. His opinion of Paul had completely changed, and he realized he had already begun to believe in this Jesus that Luke had been teaching him about. Just watching how Luke cared for the sick and wounded and sensing the peace he had within were new to Temeros. He seemed to have real compassion for these rough sailors and soldiers that he had never met.
He thought back to Paul’s lesson from two days ago. He had talked about how the sailors could navigate by looking at the sun and stars. He wondered how they could do that now, with nothing to see. As he pondered this, he also recalled Paul saying that God can give guidance and a reference point in life. He thought about his life, how he had been drifting since his mother and father died in the fire. Now, here he was on a ship, far from anything he had ever known, the ship being tossed in the waves. Strangely, he did not feel fear, and this surprised him, even as he tightened his grip on the railing.
Looking out at the vast darkness and the roiling sea, he was overcome with the sense that he was but a speck in a vast, dark, chaotic world that would not provide him the peace he sought. And yet Luke was certain that God loved him, even to the point of taking the penalty for his sins. As he dwelt on this, he had a sudden peace that made no sense given his circumstances.
He raised his eyes to the sky, squinting against the raindrops. “Jesus, I want to know you. I want to leave my old life behind and follow you. Please give light to my darkness. I need you!”
Suddenly, the sky was split with a huge bolt of lightning off to his right that seemed very near the ship. He jumped as the deck heaved and gripped the railing tighter. His first thought was just how powerful God really was. Then, he let out a laugh realizing this bright flash of light was a literal answer to his prayer of just seconds ago. He no longer felt isolated but knew that God heard him and knew exactly who he was and where he was. He was overcome by this thought.
After a few minutes of basking in this realization, he began to feel chilled and made his way back into Luke’s quarters, excited to share with him what had just happened.
—————
The lightning strike was very close, and Rayiz sent men to check for any damage. He himself took a lantern and descended into the hold to check on how much water they had taken on so far. This old ship had some leaks even in the calmest of seas. This was heavier weather than it had faced in a few years. He only hoped the storm would pass them by in a few hours.
Down in the hold, he saw water sloshing around but only deep enough to cover his foot. That was acceptable but they would need to continue monitoring. They had a small cargo of grain but it was stacked on pallets to keep it about a foot above the deck. There were small piles of loose grain that had accumulated through the years, and they were getting soggy but it could not be helped.
As he turned to go back up, he thought he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, holding the lantern closer just in time to see the tail of a snake slithering into the grain. That was new! They always had rats to deal with, since their main cargo was grain. Somehow a snake must have made it into the ship. He hated snakes! Hopefully it would drown in the water. He shivered and quickly climbed up the ladder.
Chapter Eighteen
The rest of the night, no one slept well. The constant rising and falling of the ship, the noise of the wind, the lightning flashes, and the sound of occasional retching were not conducive to rest. There was also an eager anticipation for daylight, with the hope that the storm would abate. They were all disappointed.
There was, indeed, a dusky light that was filtered through the clouds, giving witness to the fact that there really was still a sun somewhere up there. However, the morning brought ongoing rough seas, strong winds, and driving rain that seemed never-ending. There were a few times it let up considerably, but each time, their hopes for the end of the storm were dashed by a renewed frenzy of heavy downpours accompanied by thunder and lightning.
At least the light allowed them to see beyond the weak light of the ship’s lanterns, but what they saw did not give them any peace. They could not see Cauda anywhere behind them, and despite searching every chart he had, Captain Sahaq could not find any other islands in their vicinity. Not that they would be able to reach them anyway with the storm driving them as it was. He had hoped to be able to see the edge of the storm clouds nearby so they would know how to steer out from under the storm, but the lowering clouds stretched on in every direction.
So far, the waves were not dangerous, despite what the landlubbers thought. What concerned him was the appearance of the cloud cover. He had rarely seen such a dense, dark sky. It diffused a greenish yellow light that was unsettling. The worst storm he had ever experienced had this type of clouds but he was safely on land at the time. That storm had sent a funnel descending from the sky that had reached down to carry away half of the village where he was staying as it pelted the other half with large hailstones. Devastation was everywhere. If that were to happen here, in the middle of the ocean, he did not know what to expect. But he could not show fear to his men. He must keep steering into the waves one at a time.
Partway through the morning, the soldiers tired of corralling the prisoners in the dank, close air of the hold, and Gaius and Julius agreed to let them roam freely with strict orders for the soldiers to watch them closely and make sure they did not have access to weapons. They reasoned that they had no pl
ace to go anyway, so escape was not an option.
Demetrius kept to himself but realized that on deck with everyone soaked with rain anyway, his rags did not look any different than most of the other passengers. He noticed a few quizzical glances, but he did not make eye contact and turned quickly away if anyone seemed ready to speak to him. The sullen angry look on his face was a natural deterrent to human contact anyway.
By midday, the waves were no lighter. There were more fearful expressions on the faces of those who had ventured out to the deck as they could see that even the crew members were apprehensive. The ship shuddered as it slammed into each wave with significant force. One of the soldiers had climbed down into the cargo hold and had seen the water sloshing around. This information had spread quickly causing a mild panic to the non-seafaring folk that they were taking on water. Once this talk was passed on to Rayiz, he knew he had to quell the panic that was setting in.
He went to the captain and they summoned Julius and Gaius. Being summoned to the captain’s quarters in the midst of a storm was unsettling to say the least. They hurried to the meeting, faces etched with concern, as they speculated on how bad things had become. They had heard about the water in the lower hold.
They entered the small office and Captain Sahaq motioned for them to have a seat. They sat tensely, glancing at each other. Both had noticed the scowl etched on the captain’s face.
“Thanks for coming,” he began. “I need your help.”
Both soldiers nodded. “What can we do?” Julius asked.
“It has come to my attention that many of the soldiers are concerned about seeing water in the hold. Rayiz has overheard several talking about this, and with each telling, the problem is becoming more exaggerated. I fear there will be panic, and panic on a ship is never good.”
“Sure, I can talk to my men,” Julius responded. “But captain, how bad is the water? That sounds like a problem.”