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.