OBIE
Episode Twenty-five
UNCLE MARK
The door was bolted from the outside, and it took about a minute to knock a hole in the rotten roof of that misbegotten shed. I gave Lidge a knee up, and he gave me a hand. Then we jumped and landed running like we’d never run before, through the jungle down the beach the way we’d come. As we reached the pier our stomachs turned, and our hopes crashed down in ruins. There were three fine ships at harbor, but our ship of dreams was gone without a trace.
I’d never felt so thoroughly heartsick in my entire life! I thought about what Griz had said, and all at once my mouth tasted like rusty mule shoes, and my heart was pounding till I thought the thing would bust. Thousands of miles from the home we love, marooned on a lonely beach, mugged and robbed and left in a pile of poop! If this isn’t a sorry spectacle! Great Hoary Bears! What would they think if my folks could see me now? All I can say is thank the Lord they can’t.
Speaking of the Lord, we could sure use a little guidance now. We walked slowly up the beach, heads down and feet dragging, wishing it wasn’t true, but you reap what you sew and we’re wallowing in a bumper crop! We were almost back to the Padre’s church when at last we both came to and looked around. The Padre stood in the door of that drafty old sanctuary, shaking his head as though he knew our pain. At his feet was the pile of gear we’d left, and sympathy shone from his face. He handed us a note as we collapsed on the weathered steps.
“Dear boys,” the note reads, “if you’re reading these scribbles, you’ve probably missed the boat. It’s a bitter pill I know but thank God you’re alive. The captain waited till half passed nine. I can’t believe it myself. It’s not like the captain to pace the floor and wait. The rest of the passengers pitched such a fit that at last the crew gave in, and he hated to do it but the captain said, “Shove off.” Watch for me in the gold fields on the California shore. I’ll be the one with the bags of gold and the big black stovepipe hat. Till then boys, happy sailing, thanks again for all your work, keep your sails trimmed, and don’t forget ol’ Griz.”
My first inclination was to just break down and bawl! I know boys aren’t supposed to cry, but that was my inclination nonetheless. I’ve been heartsick and miserable before, but this mess is an all-time low! Then I remembered the folks back home, Mom, and Dad, and Mariah. Disappointing myself is one thing, but while I have breath, I won’t let those folks down. “Perform, persist, and prevail!” Dad always says, and so we will!
The kindly old Padre examined Lidge’s bloody lump, grimaced and shook his head. We told our mournful tale of woe, expecting some sympathy and a little Christian concern, and the cussed old Padre started to smile, and then busted up and laughed until he cried! Up till now, if there was any humor in this situation, it hadn’t occurred to us, but that old Priests laughter was just what we needed to hear. Lidge joined him first, and then I broke down, and all three of us roared! Our sorrows salved, we fell back and regrouped. The Priest suggested stitches and Lidge didn’t like the sound of that at all!
We got directions to a clinic, thanked the Padre, shouldered our gear, and headed off up the street. Downtown Rio was a mighty wondrous place, and the buildings had a style all their own. The Portuguese had influenced most of the architecture, and the stucco buildings were as immaculate as the beach. The streets were narrow but spotless, and gigantic plants reached out from every tidy yard. Parrots and exotic birds observed us from the lush canopy of trees, and insects buzzed from a multitude of fragrant flowers.
When we reached the clinic, we went on in, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. The door of a room in the back stood half ajar, so I poked my head in for a quick look around. There on a cot was a man of about thirty. The cot, clearly in distress, was threatening to buckle and listed hard to port! The doctor was probably five foot two, and I’ll bet he weighed at least 275! He grunted and squinted as I stepped in the room, then he yawned real big and sat up in his cot. “You caught me son,” he snorted sleepily, wiping his eyes with his knuckles and sliding a wrinkled sleeve under his nose. We both joined Lidge in the other room, and following introductions; the doctor cleaned his spectacles, donned his smock, and took a good look at our heads. “It’s a mighty good thing you boys have hard heads!” He observed with a gravely chuckle. “A blow like that would have killed an old man like me!” He asked how it happened and we spilled the whole sorted affair.
“Boys will be boys!” he says, as he fills a basin and briskly washes his hands. At this point we explain that we have no way of repaying him for his services, and he chuckles some more and gets out the tools of his trade. “I can tell you two are good boy’s,” he says, “and undoubtedly far, far from home. I’ll stitch this up no charge. We pilgrim’s best stick together if you know what I mean?”
We knew real well what the doctor meant; they don’t call this old world a veil of tears for nothing. In this old world we best lend one another a hand. The doctor straightened his spectacles, disinfected a big ol’ patch of scalp, stitched Lidge up, and then got out his chart. “Now,” he says, “I’ve done my part, the next move is up to you. We can write this up as what it was and bring that rapscallion to justice, or chalk this up as a lesson well learned, and you boys can grab your gear and be on your way. What’ll it be?”
Well, we were all for law and order and promoting justice and all of that, but we didn’t have time for trials and such. We had places to go and things to do, and we hoped to catch one of the ships that were fixin’ to sail. We discussed the situation for a moment and both agreed, that ornery rascal was partly to blame, but it would never have happened if we hadn’t of gone for that pesky punch!
“Just write her up as a terrible accident.” I replied, “And we’ll be more careful if we’re ever in town again.” “Fair enough!” replied the Doc, and he finished our chart and saw us to the door. “Take this accident report right across the street to that consulate over yonder,” he says, “and they’ll thank you to sign it, and you’ll be underway.”
We strolled across the street expecting a three-minute stop, opened the door, and there in the lobby of this consulate was about the worst ruckus you’ve ever heard in your life! There were at least fifty men in there, most of them angry, several of them cussing, and all of them talking at once. Near as we could make out, the captain of one of the clipper ships at anchor in the bay was about the worst tyrant that ever sailed the sea!
The crew and passengers had been on the verge of mutiny from the time they left New York, and if it hadn’t been for the cool thinking and persuasive manner of a passenger by the name of Hopkins, they’d have set the old pirate adrift and called it good!
This Hopkins guy is addressing the authorities now. He’s filed a legal complaint against the captain, and this whole mob is gladly signing it one by one. Lidge and I fought our way up to the desk, hoping to drop off our report quiet like, and skedaddle! Well, we might have known it ain’t gonna be that easy.
The guy at the desk grabs our report real indignant, and after quite a bit of real gentle coaxing on our part, he reads it real quick and slams it in a drawer. Well, that would never do for us! We needed to sign it now! I tried to tell him real polite, that it needed to be done right now. After a minute he jumped to his feet, put his hands on his hips, and bellowed at the top of his lungs. “I don’t know if you boys are blind or just stupid, but I’ve something else going on right now; whatever your deal is can wait. Now shut up, calm down, and back away from my desk!”
All at once all the rest of the cussing and shouting cut off in mid-sentence, like them fellows were all struck dumb! Every eye in the house was on Lidge and me, and you could have heard a mouse gnawing cheese. This Hopkins guy walked over and took us aside. Mr. Hopkins is a good head taller than anyone else in the room. He’s skinny as a rail, and probably in his forties, with a real good growth of slightly graying beard. “Where are you boys from?” he asked, “and what’s your business here?” His manner was calm, his voice reassuring, and we got the feeling that things were looking up.
Lidge and I laid the whole thing out; from the moment we left home, through the escapade last night, to where we’re standing now. Mr. Hopkins nodded like he understood completely. “Don’t you boys fret.” he said calmly, I’ll straighten this out right now.” Well, Lidge and I just couldn’t believe our ears. We turned to each other in total amazement, dropped our jaws and renewed our vows of faith.
Mr. Hopkins went back to pleading his case for a less tyrannical captain. The authorities deliberated for about five minutes, upheld the grievance, and the captain was removed. A qualified replacement captain was quickly appointed, and business completed the authorities stood to leave. At this point Mr. Hopkins cleared his throat by way of indicating he had something further to say. Silence prevailed, as every eye turned to him. “If you distinguished gentlemen will allow me, I have one more request before you kind sirs leave.” “By all means.” replied an official, and Mr. Hopkins approached the bench and began to speak.
“These two young men,” he announced casually, nodding in our direction, “are my nephews.” Lidge and I just stared stupefied and amazed. “There is evidently,” continues Mr. Hopkins, “a technicality of some kind, which hinders their departure this afternoon with me. If you good sirs could see fit to deal expeditiously with this matter, I’d be forever indebted to you gentlemen for your kindness.” “Consider it done Mr. Hopkins.” was their reply, and so it was! The proceedings completed; the assembly noisily adjourned. Lidge and I quickly signed the document, grabbed up our gear, and followed Mr. Hopkins out.
Out on the steps, Mr. Hopkins participated briefly in some congratulatory handshaking with the crew and passengers of the newly emancipated ship. Then turning to us with an amused but benevolent smile, he says, “If you’re coming with me, you boy’s best shake a leg.” Then he headed out with those four-foot strides like a man of considerable importance, and we figured beyond the slightest doubt he was.
Approaching the harbor, Mr. Hopkins pointed out an impeccably maintained clipper ship. “That’s our craft boys.” he says, “the PACIFIC. What do you think?” Lidge and I were both too flabbergasted to reply! After a moment I spoke up sheepishly; “Sir.” I said, “I’m Obadiah, and this is my partner Lidge.” “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” he says, shaking our hands and smiling pleasantly. My name is Hopkins but call me Uncle Mark.”
To be continued?
By Shannon Thomas Casebeer
Copyright © FEBRUARY 14th, 2009
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