A Cabin Boy’s prayer
Johan shivered as he clung to a piece of driftwood. Bobbing in the waves, rain pelting his face, he prepared for the worst. How could he survive?
God help me.
Just hours ago, he had been on the Harlingen, on his way to the Far East, but the ship had been destroyed by the cannons of a Spanish warship. 1
Two months he had been on the ship. He asked the captain if he could join the crew.
The captain had laughed. “How old are you, boy? Where’s your Mama?”
“I am fourteen. I don’t have a mother anymore,” Johan had said, fighting back tears. She had died a few months prior. What else was there to do but to become a sailor?
“I’ll do anything, Captain. Sweep the deck, clean the latrines, anything…”
“Life at sea is rough. We sail to the New World for spices. We’ll be gone for a year, maybe two…Only God knows. You believe in God, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Johan had answered.
“Good. You’ll need Him.”
And that was it. He joined the crews and on the first of May, 1634, the Harlingen, a barque in service of the Dutch merchant marine, the VOC 2, left the Amsterdam Harbor and set sail to the Far East.
That was two terribly lonely months ago. The Captain’s warning about life being rough at sea, had proven to be true. Especially the taunts of first mate Tomas had been hard to take.
“You butterfingered nincompoop. Can’t you do anything right?”
“Wake up, boy. Into the crow’s nest you go.”
Whenever Johan was seasick, he would yell, “Johan, you miserable shrimp, clean the tables.”
And on and on it went. Tomas seemed to have made it his mission to make Johan’s life unbearable with crude remarks, unreasonable commands and physical abuse. Violent and unpredictable as a raging storm, the man had been at sea for most of his life. At least he was now delivered from Tomas.
Johan recalled the fires, the screams, terrified faces, dead bodies, wreckage, and fear. The Spaniards had shown no mercy and kept shooting their cannons at the helpless vessel. Johan had jumped overboard, together with some others, and now he was alone, at the mercy of the elements and in the hands of God.
What was that?
Something was floating on the water. More wreckage?
Johan paddled towards the object.
It was Tomas!
His tormentor lay on a piece of driftwood, apparently unconscious.
Let him be. We’ll both die.
Johan stared at the bony, unshaven face with the closed eyes. Had he ever seen this man smile?
No, I must help him…
Help Tomas? No way. He deserves to die. Besides, what can I do? …I’ll leave him to the sharks.
Johan gazed at the endless sea and the dark and gloomy skies. Nobody was alive, except he and his tormentor. Was this a cruel joke of the Creator?
He paddled up to the driftwood and called out Tomas’ name.
The man was bleeding badly. In minutes, the sharks would pick up the scent. Johan gently touched his shoulder.
“Tomas?”
The older man opened his eyes.
“Johan. You wretched shrimp. You survived.”
Johan grabbed Tomas’s hand.
“It’s just the two of us now.”
Tomas licked his parched lips. “We are going to die, you miserable mouse.”
“Tomas, we need to pray. Only God can help us now.”
“Pray? What good has that ever done?” Tomas’ breathing was labored, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I prayed once. But God didn’t care. Mother died that day. It was the day I stopped believing and became a cabin boy, like you.”
“It’s not too late, Tomas!”
“Too late for what?”
“Pray with me Tomas!”
“Leave me, shrimp. It’s all over. ”
But Johan was determined and started to pray.
“Dear God, we are so afraid. I believe in you. Give Tomas and me courage and help us.”
Thomas snickered and closed his eyes again.
For some time they didn’t speak and quavered on the sea, knowing death was imminent.
How long before the end will come?
Just when Tomas was dozing off, a sound caught his attention.
“Yoho! Anyone alive? Yoho!”
A boat?
Johan looked up. A short distance away, a sloop from the Harlingen was bobbing on the waves, holding two survivors.
“Here! Over here!” Johan shouted it out.
Minutes later, they were in the sloop. Not out of danger, but things were looking up. Johan smiled and silently offered thanks to God. God would not abandon them. That much was sure.
Tomas eyed him suspiciously.
“Are you praying again, shrimp?”
Johan nodded.
“Keep on praying, lubber. Keep on praying. We never needed it more.”
***