Ch. 13: The Walk to Supper

Ishmael had returned to the Rachel, talked with Bob about Leilani's invitation, and was rather surprised that Bob had agreed to go with him that evening without any sort of demur. As they walked the length of the dock and crossed over to her house, Ishmael said, "You know, Bob, you surprised me that you would go to Leilani's with me tonight."

"Why is that, Ishmael?"

"Well, you obviously know what her trade is and how she lives her life. I would think you would not want to be associated with such a person."

"I'm not the only carpenter who would visit the home of people that were looked down upon by society. When you think of it, we sailors do not have the highest of reputations among 'polite society' shall we call them?" He smiled in a way that disarmed Ishmael, did a bit of bonding with him, and perhaps diffused some of his preconceived notions about how Saint Bob should act. "Oh, I realize I'm known as 'Saint Bob' these days, but I was not always of the same mind as I am now. Sometimes I feel I have a lot in common with Paul the Tarsus tent maker, including how I turned from being vehemently against Christians of any sort to being one who just as vehemently pursues Truth and walks in paths that most folks would not attribute to a ship's carpenter."

"I must say," Pappy said while removing his cap and scratching his head, "that you and those ravens that were on the docks this morning are quite different in your way of presenting yourselves and how you make people around you feel."

"How's that?" said Bob with a slight twist of his head to prompt more from Ishmael than he might normally volunteer.

"They seem to relish making people feel guilty and to be full of gloom and doom, where you seem to take folks as you find them without condemning all the time."

"But do I back down from what I believe? That's what I want to know."

"No...you know what you believe, know how to make your point, but don't seem to be as judgmental as those missionaries. It's almost as though you can tell me I'm going to Hell without my being offended by it!"

Bob chuckled, then said, "Is that what you think I'm telling you, based on our past conversations?"

"Well, you haven't said it in so many words, but you get to jabbing parts of me that I thought were not touchable ever since I was much younger and had to go to church and sit through some of the worst hours of my life...or so it seemed back then."

"So you'd say you've had religion 'thumped' into you, is that it?"

"I'd say it was more like being a whale who's been stabbed by incompetent harpooners and mates with sharp implements that don't strike the right spots or pull out once the whale runs. Maybe that's why I almost felt a kinship with Moby Dick even as I was being used to try to bring about his death...his 'conversion,' to put it in religious terms, from wild creature of the deep to boiled oil for New England lamps!"

"Interesting analogy, Ishmael. It reminds me of the part in the Book of Acts where Saul is 'kicking against the pricks' that eventually led him to be a zealous Christian who faced all sorts of problems in his life, including ship wreck a few times."

"Is that why you think you have something in common with him?"

"Yes, I guess so. Well, here we are at Leilani's, so we should look to the lady first of all. You lead the way, since I'm the guest."

Ch. 12: Breakfast and The Book

"Now that we have the rest of the day to talk," Leilani said as she was fixing some food for Ishmael, "did you ever wonder if Doubting Thomas has been accused of things he should not have been by preachers who read the Bible wrongly?"

"What are you talking about, Leilani?" Ishmael said with a strange look on his face that seemed to indicate he couldn't believe they were having this conversation so shortly after breaking one of the Commandments. Even his somewhat seared conscience was touched by his actions on occasion.

"Well, Reverend More was talking about the need to go to church every Sabbath..."

"That's something I wondered about when you mentioned it. Just why do you go to church with such apparent regularity?"

"Don't interrupt, Ishmael, it is not polite! Besides, we can discuss that later. Now, as I was saying, Reverend More says that Thomas was not with the disciples when Jesus appeared to them because he was intentionally avoiding their company. Well, while you were asleep, I looked at the 20th chapter of Saint John where the story is and I don't think Thomas tried to stay away from their meeting."

"So?"

"Well, he just was not there when Jesus appeared, but it sounds as though he arrived late, not trying to avoid the meeting, as Reverend More indicated in his sermon."

With half a mouth full of food, Ishmael then said, "So, what's your point?"

"My point," Leilani said with just a touch of irritation towards Pappy, "is that the preacher should be more careful with what he says, don't you think?"

"Why? People only pay attention to him on occasion or if they are feeling bad, in hopes of getting some sort of comfort from the message. Usually, from what I've observed for the time I had to go when I was younger, preachers are only trying to make you feel bad and control your behavior and many times don't practice what they preach!! Frankly, I'd just as soon sleep with a sober pagan than a drunk 'Christian.'"

"You mean, like I am?!"

"No, no, that's not what I mean. In fact, when I met my friend Queequeg, I thought that very thing when I got to know him better after the initial shock of his outward appearance. Your outward appearance is obviously not shocking to me!" He smiled to appease her apparent pique, but not to much avail.

"You don't really have the respect for this Book that I have, and you claim to be a 'Christian' because you were raised in a certain fashion in a certain land."

"So?"

"Well, don't you think that if you claim to be something you ought to act like it? If you claimed to be a sailor but never went to sea, who would believe you?"

"I see your point, Leilani, but I think you're too excited about the whole subject. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were one of the missionaries here in Hawaii who were trying to 'convert the savages.' And, frankly, I don't see that there's all that pressing a need. Glory, it sounds to me that you need to be talking to Saint Bob about these things."

"Who is Saint Bob?"

"The Rachel's carpenter who is clearly a 'Christian' as you would define one, I think."

"You may bring him to supper with you tonight. I think I would like to speak with him. While you are staying in Honolulu, you may stay with me...at the same rate you would stay in the tavern down the road, but with better, shall we say, 'company.'"

"What if Bob won't come, given your particular lifestyle?"

"Tell him Reverend More's 'Rahab' would like to talk with him about the Bible and describe my cooking. I think he will be persuaded."

Ch. 11: Leilani

As he passed the missionaries and stepped onto land for the first time in months, Ishmael 'tacked' towards a group of buildings that were a combination of Hawaiian and New England architecture. Far down the main street he saw the church that was clearly similar to the one he would later describe that he visited in New Bedford at the beginning of this last seafaring adventure and that was a tall-steepled, white boarded 'classic' of that period all along the Eastern seaboard of America. His eye was quickly diverted, however, to a young woman sitting at a table outside of what appeared to be her lodging/place of business.

She simply rested her elbow on the table and crooked a finger in Ishmael's direction to get his attention. She had no need to further flaunt her charms, as several of the other women were doing to attract the attention...successfully, I might add...of the other members of the crew of the Rachel bent on the distractions offered by the locals. Ishmael more or less swaggered up to her, smiled, tipped his hat, and said, "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. What's your name, my dear?"

"Leilani is the name my parents gave me, but 'Rahab' is what Reverend More calls me when I walk into his church each Sabbath."

"Not surprising, Leilani; which if I remember correctly, means 'heavenly lei,' a most appropriate double meaning if you are familiar with English. What surprises me is your church attendance record."

"Yes, I am well versed in English, sailor...I was schooled from an early age at the Mission School down the street from the Church by Reverend More's wife, as were many of the children of my neighborhood. I have even read many parts of that book you're carrying, but the Mores will not give me a copy of my own until I change my life to suit their expectations."

"And what are their expectations concerning you?"

"That I stop being pleasant to men who visit me and that I only make 'an honest living' as they would call it." She smiled and added, "They apparently think that 'Rahabs' are to be dealt with more severely than God did with the one mentioned in both the Old and New Testament."

"Do you believe in the barter system, Leilani?" Ishmael said in a way to divert her line of thought.

"Yes, I do...first, tell me your name."

"Ishmael, you know, 'the wild one' from the Old Testament."

"Well, Ishmael, I believe I know why you stopped by to talk to me this morning, so I will be willing to give you bed and board of a slightly more pleasant type than you might have encountered in New England for that book!"

Ishmael held out the Bible with his right hand, Leilani took it with her left as she arose, turned slightly, hooked her right arm in Ishmael's left, and led him indoors. Their conversation concerning Biblical matters was temporarily suspended...

Ch. 10: In Port

The Rachel docked smoothly in Honolulu with the familiarity of someone coming home to a place well kept and saved for its occupant. She had often been in this very harbor over the course of the years that Captain Gardiner sailed her after the precious oil salvaged from the whales he had pursued. This docking, however, was not a happy one for the captain, now that Moby Dick had taken his youngest son and several crewman out of this world. His crew, however, was not too adversely effected by the loss, even though they sympathized with their captain.

As the hands tied off the necessary mooring lines, dropped anchor, and cast an eye over the various people wandering the docks, Ishmael was himself eying some rather beautiful natives who were obviously looking to ply their trade with this new batch of seafaring men. He found it interesting that a group of rather austere looking folks were actively positioning themselves to be the first folks to be encountered by the men of the Rachel as they came ashore. They had the serious demeanor Pappy was quite familiar with from his upbringing by his strictly Calvinist mother back on the Eastern seaboard of America that reminded him of folks who had swallowed either milk that was just about to turn sour or perhaps had chewed on persimmons to achieve just the right piety of face they felt appropriate for their calling.

On this particular day, having clearly escaped death at the hands of Moby Dick (or should that be 'fins?'), Pappy was feeling devilish not to the point of wanting to knock their hats off as he would write in his first chapter, but only of ruffling the feathers of these 'vultures for the Lord' as he was wont to call them at this stage of his life. He slung his sailor's bag that he had gotten on board the Rachel over his shoulder, slapped Saint Bob's shoulder with a back hand motion, and said, "Watch me wind the mainsprings of these gruesome looking ravens who want to bring spiritual meat to this group of Elijahs wondering the world!"

Bob called after him, "Well, if you're going to start out mocking, you might as well jump into a bottle and meet with Sir Wine the Mocker, as Proverbs says. Just beware of the outcome!"

"I'll seek solace from some of the locals if Sir Wine is in the right mood and the pay the captain advanced me is enough."

As Pappy Ishmael boldly swaggered down the gangway straight toward the cluster of missionaries in his path, he tipped his hat and slightly bowed to the group. "And a lovely day to you shining lights here in this dark port! Have you one of those Bibles I can take with me that you seem ready to hand out?"

"We are most happy to present you with this token of our caring for your immortal soul. Have you come to us in the Narrow or the Broad Way?"

"Well, this dock is rather narrow, so I guess you could say I've managed to arrive in the former, but it appears to me that you're standing very close to the latter, given the bawds who find themselves just over yonder; which is the direction I seem to be tacking towards. Perhaps one of those ladies could improve her English with words from this volume, if I read them to her?"

"I'd suggest you begin reading at Proverbs chapter 7, then, and take its words to heart yourself, young man," said the apparent leader of the group who looked strangely similar to Max von Sydow in the movie "Hawaii." "You'll find the heat you wish to generate there will lead you to the fires of damnation some day that may be sooner than you think."

"Well, I've just come from an encounter the likes of which you couldn't imagine, Old Scarecrow, and I think the Good Lord has shown me some favor by not making me fish food as happened to the rest of the crew of the Pequod, so I'm not too worried about being shuffled off this mortal coil in the near future, so I am about to take to the joys of the land that are not afforded on a whaling ship."

"Will you give me your name, son, so I can pray for you?"

"I'll tell you I'm called 'Ishmael,' but I don't expect your prayers will do much better than my mother's have so far!"

"Ishmael...hmm...the wild one who fathered twelve tribes. Well, my name is Micah More. If you should ever care to, look me up here in Honolulu anytime. I've left my name and address in the front of that Bible."

"Well, Reverend More, I'll keep that in hand, so to speak," he said as he waved the Bible in the air while walking further down the dock towards his destination.

Ch.9: Honolulu

Just on the horizon several days later Honolulu could be seen rising above the calm waters of the Pacific as the Rachel traveled easily along with the winds of that period. Here was a place replete with colorful folks of all sorts from not only the islands but from the continents on either side of the Pacific. The whalers were particularly fond of the ladies plying the oldest profession recorded, but looked with quite a jaundiced eye at the missionaries trying to stop one from buying and the other from selling a multiplicity of wares.

Ishamel was leaning on the rail with Saint Bob and several others as they were making toward port and opened his verbal foray on Bob's beliefs with Mephistophelian duplicity. "Can you explain to me, Saint Bob, why the Old Book says we are supposed to 'go forth and multiply' but has so many instances of the act required being frowned upon, even to the point of death?"

"Multiplication in both mathematics and biology is designed to stay within prescribed boundaries, Ishmael, which are carefully spelled out throughout the Book."

"You mean, one man and one woman should splice themselves 'until death do them part' as those missionaries standing on the dock would say?"

"While you've summed up mathematically the argument, something tells me you'll be dividing some texts to come up with a different answer to the problem than the ancient writers would."

"How do you explain, for instance, that Jacob had four wives instead of just one? Or, his father Abraham splicing with Hagar to produce the 'wild one' for whom I am named and then Sarah to bring forth Israel?"

"On the one hand, I don't explain it. There are simply some things past my understanding, and there's no shame in admitting that. On the other hand, I look at the long list of family names in Matthew and Luke, see many vast sinners and some saints in the ancestry of the Lord Himself, and wonder just what God was up to in using those folks to gain his end. I guess it has to do with Proverbs 16:4, "The LORD hath made all things for himself: yea, even the wicked for the day of evil."

Pappy Ishmael scratched his head, "Then He made Cap'n Ahab, Moby Dick, and the heathens who went down with the Pequod like my friend Queequeg for that very evil day, allowing Moby Dick to swim away from killing all those men, leaving me alone to tell the tale?"

"Well, Ishmael, you use the language of Job's servants who were left when the disasters occurred to his family and herds, so as they were messengers to Job and all of us who read of his story, maybe you were born for a similar purpose, considering you've already begun to write down your tale."

"Now you sound like my mother with all her Presbyterian predestinating and such."

"Well, when you write of the Fates, how far are you from a similar position, except that you give credit to three women instead of a Triune God?!"

"Something tells me this discussion is only going to swirl around like the funnel that took the Pequod to Davy Jones, so I'll think of the ladies ashore I may meet and say, 'Ahoy, Honolulu!' for now!"

Ch. 8: Harpooner O'Ryan

Shortly after Ishmael's chat with the illustrious Mr. Tout, while continuing to jot down his story of the white whale, he heard, "Boy-o, da ya t'ink Mr. Tout's got all the glory on this vessel?"

"Ah...no, Sir, but I'm sure I'm about to be apprised of some glories known to you and those among your associates. How may I address you, since we've not been formally introduced?"

"Call me Patty O'Ryan if ye choose, er Stars, er even O'rion, sicond boat harp'ner but sicond to none in the chase an' kill business!!" responded a burly, freckled red-head who was stripped to the waist to display some interesting tattoos.

"A pleasure to meet you, O'Ryan," Ishmael responded, "and what might be the way you want to be remembered down through the ages of literary history when I compose my next great tale?" As he said this, he picked up a second notebook that was the beginning of his story of the sea since his rescue by the Rachel and its crew.

"Ye see these tattoos, here on me chest? They're tha symbol that I was born to be a great hunter of whales as Orion himself is called the Great Hunter of the sky! I even keep this token of the tale wi' me to show to folks like yerself that we red-headed hunters are more famous than ye t'ink." He indicated several clearly discernible stars that unmistakeably represented the constellation of Orion from his waist to his shoulders. "This card also tells tha story."

"Very well done tattoos, I must say; especially as one who wears my own of various sorts with pride. Perhaps you should have a card made up with a likeness of yourself holding a harpoon instead of the club and a whale instead of a lion?"

"I've thought of that meself, but I'm so busy being the hunter I haven't taken the time to pose and improve upon the card set."

"You mean there are more of these?"

"Aye, I've got the whole set in me bag. On one of me short times on land, I came across 'em in London. They're called Urania's Mirror. I t'ink me Celtic Gram would use them to tell fortunes, but I don't hold wi' all that, if ye know wha' I mean! I figger the good Lor' put muh fam'ly name in the heavens so I shouldn't go messin' about wi' temptin' Him and His workin's."

"Sounds like a wise policy. So give over your tale in brief, if you will," said Ishmael as he licked his pencil, preparing to write.

"Whill, it's really simple ye see...even though Mr. Second Mate Murray and I jine togither in the second boat, we still have landed more spouters and gi'en more oil to tha barrels below than Mr. Tout would care t'admit. So, ye might say, even bein' number two, we're really number one!" His proud grin was winning to all the company except Mr. Tout, who happened to be part of it.

"Oy, Mistur Stars...blow all the spray you want, Mr. Lions and I still say that spouter off'n the Feegees was our'n and ye got the credit. But no matter, when you read the Rachel's register, our portions of the take still beat yours and Tight Fist Murray." Tout's considerably red face got perhaps a shade or two deeper during the exchange, but there was still the underlying good humor of men in competition who would sacrifice their lives for each other when a mutual adversary appeared.

"Well, I for one am glad to meet you both and expect you're the excellent harpooners you claim to be, based on the fact that Rachel's belly is full."

During this exchange, the Rachel continued to make its way to Honolulu for resupply for the next leg of its voyage.

Ch. 7: Disclaimers and other Trivia

I can't think of one instance wherein a story, fictitious or true, was written about boring people. Let's face it...they're BORING, so why bother?! Most people fit into various categories or 'types' or have an interesting admixture of these two that actually makes them individualistic in their behavior, even when they exhibit characteristics handed down through familial lines for generations; which comes both through the collective gene pool and successive training by parents and grandparents.

Story telling has been the way mankind has communicated ever since the Original Gardeners botched their rather simple assignment and fell out not only with their Maker, but with each other as well, no doubt. I wonder if Mother Eve was forever correcting Father Adam when he was regaling Seth and the progeny with tales of The Garden and the like? I'd wager without much fear of losing my principal that all cultures have men who do not, shall we say, stick to the truth while their women folk either publicly amend the tales in their presence or sort them out at a later time in their own feminine way when Pappy has retired to some other place.

In any event, constructing a tale, whether anyone else reads and/or likes it or not, is a challenge in and of itself; the primary motivation behind What Happened to Ishmael? Of course, there's the always inquisitive five year old who is content to end a story but inevitably asks for more. It appears that The Lord of the Rings was exactly that; Tolkien's way to build Elvish as a whole new language as well as his attempt to tell an engaging story...spot on, Mr. T!!

The illustration for this particular chapter was drawn by Theodor Von Holst for the frontispiece of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. It could be seen as the author of any tale running away from his characters once they've gotten out of hand. Or it could have absolutely nothing to do with anything other than it's OK to use it due to its public domain status. So, if illustrations crop up... or are cropped to suit my fancy...that you recognize from other works...like "Kapellmeister Kreisler" in the last chapter to represent Harpooner Tout...accept it graciously and continue on, dear reader...or not, if the spirit so moves you.