Captain's Log, Part 4

The Ship That Jack Built

In the harbors of the Island floated many a ship that flew the flag of the Great Fleet. As Apores visited these ships, however, he found few that were bound for the Destination, fewer that navigated by the Star, and fewer still that ordered themselves by the Mariner’s Handbook. He could not imagine that the Admiral was pleased with these vessels. Yet Apores also wondered whether the Admiral could be pleased with him. The more that he studied the Mariner’s Handbook, the more he became impressed with one point: the Admiral wanted all of his sailors to enlist in the crew of some ship.

When he had first reached the island, Apores was searching for a ship that met a list of qualifications. All of the qualifications were good, and they were all drawn from the Mariner’s Handbook. As he found himself disappointed by ship after ship, however, Apores began to drop items from the list. Finally, his list contained only two points: the ship must identify itself with the pattern of order in the Mariner’s Handbook, and its captain must feed the crew with bread.

This was quite a minimal catalog of qualifications. Even so, Apores could not find a ship that met it. Some ships had captains that served bread, but were wrongly ordered. Others were rightly ordered, but the captain habitually served stones in the galley at meal time. Concerned about his own obedience to the Admiral, however, Apores determined simply to find the best vessel that he could.

One of the first ships that he had visited after arriving on the Island was the Southern Fundie. This ship was allied with both the Landmark and the Legall, but it had a younger captain named Fardeau. Captain Fardeau had been pursuing Apores, attempting to recruit him for the Fundie. At first, Apores had rejected the idea. As weeks wore into months, however, he could find no better ship.

The Fundie had originally been built by a captain known as Jolly Jack. This captain more or less saw himself as a direct spokesman for the Admiral. The crew hardly needed to read the Mariner’s Handbook, for Jolly Jack was always ready to tell anyone what the Admiral’s will was. He forbade any crewman to make any important decision without seeking what he called “counsel” from the captain, which meant that Jack would announce to the crewman exactly what he thought the Admiral wanted the decision to be.

Jack had governed the ship with an iron fist. But because he was Jolly Jack he could get away with it. He rarely served bread to the crew, but he gave them stones that were so amusing they never noticed. He provided so much amusement that the ship drew would-be mariners like a corpse draws buzzards. Eventually the ship became the size of an aircraft carrier. That is when Jack left to transplant the methods of the Southern Fundie into the North.

Subsequent captains had taken the helm of the Fundie, but none could take Jack’s place. Gradually the crew began to diminish. Then Jack had sent his son, Davie, to become the new captain. It was a disastrous experience. Davie liked to play with fire, which is something that no captain should ever do. Eventually the young man ignited a conflagration that almost blew the Fundie out of the water.

After extinguishing the fire, the crew forced Davie to walk the plank, and they chose the first mate for their new captain. The first mate, however, had come from an entirely different flotilla. Within a short time, he jumped into a lifeboat and announced that he was going to go build a ship of his own. Half the crew joined him.

The ship was now a charred hulk, and the crew was a mere remnant. It occupied only a fraction of the huge vessel and could not man the ship sufficiently to sail her. The old-timers still remembered the former glory of the Southern Fundie, but those days were gone forever.

That is when young Fardeau was made captain. He took command of a handful of people in a ship the size of a horizontal skyscraper. Desperate for more sailors, he thought that Apores would be useful. So he kept after Apores, urging him to enlist aboard the Fundie.

For his part, Apores was suspicious. Fardeau had been trained in the Big Boys’ Flotilla (it is a sister group to the Wide Boys’ Flotilla, with some crossover into the Fat Boys’ Flotilla), which tends to see the captain’s word as the iron law of the ship. Apores suspected that Fardeau might be easily provoked and quick to the cutlass. So he took the time to explain and explore their differences. He made sure that the captain learned of everything that could conceivably become a bone of contention between them. He told Fardeau that he did not intend to advertise their differences on the Fundie, but he was not willing to enlist unless Fardeau was willing to tolerate them.

For his part, Fardeau eagerly assured Apores that he would be welcome. He stated that the days were gone when captains could rule like Jolly Jack. Furthermore, Fardeau did give the crew at least some bread. True, it was mixed with pebbles so that one had to eat carefully lest one chip a tooth, but it was possible to find at least some nourishment in most meals.

Apores held no illusions about the Fundie. Its captain and crew had only the foggiest notion of the Destination. They had no yearning for the Star at all—in fact, they dismissed it as a Catholic invention. Instead of the Mariner’s Handbook, they organized the ship’s work according to the recommendations of a mariner named Finnegan. (Apores had heard of Finnegan, but had never actually read his logs or looked at his charts. That was about to change.)

But Apores was desperate. For a year he had wandered about the island in search of a ship. He feared the displeasure of the Admiral, and the yearning for camaraderie was almost overwhelming. Finally, he determined to enlist aboard the Southern Fundie, doing his best to help Captain Fardeau wherever he was permitted. He knew that he would not be able to speak of much that he knew. He could say nothing about the Star, and he could speak of the Destination only in the vaguest terms. He would have to treat the captain almost as if he were the Admiral Himself. In his perplexity, however, he could see no other way.

He felt compelled by conscience to give his allegiance to some ship, and the Southern Fundie seemed like the best of a bad lot.

It was one of the worst mistakes that he ever made.

At Home

John Quarles (1624-1665)

Long did I toil and knew no earthly rest,
Far did I rove and found no certain home;
At last I sought them in His sheltering breast,
Who opes His arms and bids the weary come:
With Him I found a home, a rest divine,
And I since then am His, and He is mine.

The good I have is from His stores supplied,
The ill is only what He deems the best;
He for my friend I’m rich with nought beside,
And poor without Him, though of all possessed;
Changes may come, I take or I resign,
Content, while I am His, while He is mine.

Whate’er may change, in Him no change is seen,
A glorious Sun that wanes not nor declines,
Above the storms and clouds He walks, serene,
And on His people’s inward darkness shines;
All may depart, I fret not, nor repine,
While I my Saviour’s am, while He is mine.

While here, alas! I know but half His love,
But half discern Him and but half adore;
But when I meet Him in the realms above
I hope to love Him better, praise Him more,
And feel, and tell, amid the choir divine,
How fully I am His and He is mine.

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.