Captain’s Log, Part 3

Exploration

Apores was still on the island that some call Egypt and others Babylon, but most know by another name. He visited many of the ships that came near this island, each of which flew the flag of the Great Fleet. He discovered that most of these ships were bound for nowhere in particular. They had no clear idea of the Destination. Their captains did not navigate by the Star. The crews were given poor provisions: when they asked for bread, they were given stones; and when they asked for fish, they were given serpents. Most captains made their way by following other captains, but many of the newer captains were also beginning to follow charts that had been prepared by pirates.

You may wonder why it would matter who prepared the chart. After all, pirates must also navigate, so would their charts not be useful? That is what you might think, but it is not so. Pirate charts do not match the realities of the sea. They show mainly how to find the pirates’ lairs (which no real ship of the Great Fleet would ever wish to do), but they neglect many of the real dangers of the deep. In particular, no pirates’ chart ever shows the great maelstrom in the midst of the ocean, of which all ships must steer clear. That is why, in the long run, pirates invariably sink their ships and plunge both themselves and their crews into the Abyss. Any vessel that follows pirates’ charts runs a terrible danger of shipwreck.

Apores knew these things. He had been taught them in command school, and to him they seemed too obvious for any captain not to know. He could not understand why so many captains of Fleet ships would navigate using pirates’ charts.

For this reason and others, his experience on the island had been disappointing. Hope did not fail him, however, for on the island stood an academy that held a reputation for exploring advanced techniques of navigation. Apores determined to apprentice himself to the explorers from this academy. If anyone could train him in the ways of the sea, surely they could.

When he approached the explorers, however, they were reluctant to accept him. They were disdainful of the command school that Apores had attended, and they questioned whether he really had the determination to become an explorer. For Apores’ part, the pursuit of the Destination by means of the Star seemed like the grandest possible exploration, and he told them so. They asked Apores to demonstrate his ability to read charts and to handle a sextant and a compass. When they observed that Apores performed these tasks with ease, they received him as a journeyman in their academy.

The fact that it was an academy and not a ship ought to have told Apores something. He had assumed that the explorers from the academy actually went out into the world to investigate it. What he discovered, however, was that they spent their time exploring the logs and charts of captains who had sailed the seas. More often, these were the summaries and theories of those who had explored the captains’ logs (but had done no sailing themselves). Or most often they were the reports and claims of present-day explorers from peer academies who were studying the explorers who had studied the captains.

Consequently, the time Apores spent in the academy was not what he had expected. It was not without profit, however. While his mentors did not expect him to do any actual exploration in the real world, they did press him to master the entire body of primary, secondary, and tertiary literature related to exploring. What is more, they provided him with a rich library of logs and charts to explore on his own.

Apores now had one of the opportunities for which he had longed. He was given full and free access to the chronicles of the old captains. For the first time, he was able to immerse himself in the navigation of the ancient mariners. He learned of the challenges that they faced in building and commanding ships. He read of their battles with pirates, of their struggles against adverse winds, and of their wanderings as they sought to circumnavigate impassible barriers.

His most important discovery was that even the old captains had frequently found themselves perplexed. Often their skies had been so clouded that they could barely see the Star. Even when they could see it, they had sometimes been uncertain how to steer by it. They had made mistakes, sometimes serious ones. They had lost their way and then found it again. Their ships, tossed and beaten, were sometimes little more than hulks. What remained constant was their loyalty to the Admiral, their yearning for the Destination, their love of the Star, and their determination.

Apores’ learning did not end there. While he was examining the logs of the old captains, his mentors required him to research the records of all sorts of mariners. The objects of his research included charts drawn by pirates. He spent hours scrutinizing the details of generations of buccaneers, ancient and modern. One of his mentors led him through a meticulous study of the most recent pirates, some of whom were still sailing the high seas. The result was that he now understood pirate charting in detail. He had always been taught that the pirates’ charts would deceive true mariners, but he did not know how they did it. Now he understood exactly the devices pirates used in order to lure unsuspecting ships into their grasp.

Another aspect of his research led Apores into the logs and charts of commanders who were neither pirates nor captains of the Fleet. These sailors knew little of the Destination or the Star, or even of the Admiral. What they did know was the part of the ocean they frequented, and there they charted every reef and shoal. Some of them had voyaged to distant harbors where they had encountered strange winds. By his studies of these commanders, Apores came to understand the various currents and winds that acted upon the progress of any vessel. These currents would often draw ships off course. A captain might begin steering by the star, but then be swept halfway around the world (and perhaps into the maelstrom) before he realized what was happening. Apores now knew how to gauge the currents and the winds with exactness. He knew how a ship could avoid disaster before it was even visible.

As Apores studied and thought, he found himself changing. His knowledge of the seas was expanding. His vision of the Destination was becoming clearer. He found himself able to gaze upon the Star more and more frequently. Most of all, he began to understand that no captain had ever really felt himself ready for the sea. Captains were sent out by the Admiral with minimal instructions. They never really knew how they would get where they were going. The greatest captains were those who refused to deviate from the Star. The worst were those who, in their uncertainty, could not tell which star to steer by.

Yes, Apores was changing. For a while, he wondered what he was changing into. He had the sensation that he had embarked on a kind of inner voyage, and he was not at all sure where that voyage would end. To his amazement, however, he found that he was coming more and more to himself. He had thought that he would have to draw new conclusions, but his most surprising conclusion was that many of his old ones were the most sound. It was as if his own soul was a ship, and it was now fixing its prow on the Star.

Still, certain questions nagged Apores. What he saw seemed so clear, yet few others could see it. How could that be? Why did so few captains steer by the Star? How could they be blind to the dangers of pirates’ charts? Just as Apores was asking himself these questions, he stumbled upon a surprising trove of logs and charts. He began to explore them, and what he discovered there answered his questions in a surprising way.

Constancy

George Herbert (1593-1633)

Who is the honest man?
He that doth still and strongly good pursue,
To God, his neighbour, and himself most true:
Whom neither force nor fawning can
Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due.

Whose honesty is not
So loose or easy, that a ruffling wind
Can blow away, or glittering look it blind:
Who rides his sure and even trot,
While the world now rides by, now lags behind.

Who, when great trials come,
Nor seeks, nor shuns them; but doth calmly stay,
Till he the thing and the example weigh:
All being brought into a sum,
What place or person calls for, he doth pay.

Whom none can work or woo
To use in anything a trick or sleight;
For above all things he abhors deceit:
His words and works and fashion too
All of a piece, and all are clear and straight.

Who never melts or thaws
At close temptations: when the day is done,
His goodness sets not, but in dark can run:
The sun to others writeth laws,
And is their virtue;—Virtue is his Sun.

Who, when he is to treat
With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway,
Allows for that, and keeps his constant way:
Whom others’ faults do not defeat;
But though men fail him, yet his part doth play.

Whom nothing can procure,
When the wide world runs bias, from his will
To writhe his limbs, and share, not mend the ill.
This is the Mark-man, safe and sure,
Who still is right, and prays to be so still.

This essay is by Dr. Kevin T. Bauder, president of Central Baptist Theological Seminary (Plymouth, MN). Not every professor, student, or alumnus of Central Seminary necessarily agrees with every opinion that it expresses.