: The Lifeboat

Patrick felt Aris shove him. “Watch out!” Aris yelled.

A barrel rolled by them.

“That was close,” Aris said.

Patrick wondered why the soldiers and sailors treated everyone so poorly. He asked, “Is everyone in this area a prisoner?”

“No. You aren’t,” Aris said. “There are also travelers, merchants, and off-duty soldiers and sailors.”

“Why are you a prisoner?” he asked.

“Just like Paul,” Aris said, “I tell people about Jesus.”

“That’s not a crime, is it?” Patrick asked.

“Some Jewish leaders think it is,” Aris said. “Hopefully Caesar won’t agree with them.”

The ship creaked.

Patrick’s brows knit together. “Is the ship strong enough to get through this storm?” he asked.

“I’m not certain. Maybe Luke could tell us. We might need to take it to the doc,” Aris said.

Patrick laughed. Ships are tethered to a dock, and doc is short for the word doctor.

Aris laughed too.

Patrick looked around. Most of the cargo had been thrown overboard.

Now Patrick could see Luke and Beth in the distance.

He saw a large Roman soldier near Beth. The soldier wore armor over his tunic. The man also wore a metal helmet.

“What is that soldier doing?” Patrick asked.

“He is guarding the prisoners,” Aris said.

“Does Paul have a guard?” Patrick said.

“His guard is a Roman centurion named Julius,” Aris said. “Julius trusts Paul. He lets Paul walk about freely.”

Aris looked around. Then he said, “I’ll bring you to your friend. I need to check on Paul. He tries to help everyone. But sometimes he needs help.”

Patrick pointed. “I see Beth over there,” he said. “Go help Paul. I’ll be fine.”

Patrick started to walk toward Beth.

Aris smiled and called out, “What’s a sailor’s least favorite color?”

Patrick turned back and shrugged.

“Maroon,” Aris said.

Patrick laughed. Marooned sailors are stuck on an island without a boat. And maroon is a dark red color.

Patrick waved and left.

Patrick stepped around people standing. He moved carefully between resting sailors and soldiers.

How could they sleep in such a noisy storm? Patrick wondered.

A figure sat up and stretched as Patrick walked by. He seemed to be a few years older than Patrick. The teen wore a short skirt with sashes over his shoulders. He was dressed like a Roman sailor.

Patrick knew about Roman sailors. He had been in Rome on an earlier adventure.

Patrick stopped watching where he was going to see where Beth was. He stepped on something soft and lumpy.

A Roman soldier sat up. “I’m trying to sleep,” he yelled. His thick black eyebrows formed a V on his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said.

“You’re not as sorry as you will be,” the soldier said. He stood. He was more than twice Patrick’s size.

“Leave him alone, Demetrius,” the young sailor said.

“Is he your friend, Marcus?” Demetrius asked. “Then I’ll teach you both a lesson.”

The boy jumped to his feet.

The soldier’s hairy arms reached toward Patrick.

But Marcus grabbed Patrick first. He pulled Patrick away from the soldier. “Run!” he yelled.

Patrick took off after Marcus. He slipped and slid across the deck.

Marcus slipped also. They were running too fast.

“I know a place to hide,” Marcus said. He pointed.

Patrick saw a small wooden lifeboat near the ship’s railing. It was lashed to the deck.

Canvas was tied over the top of the lifeboat. The storm had loosened the ropes around the canvas. The cloth no longer completely covered the lifeboat.

“What’s that doing here?” Patrick asked. He thought lifeboats were supposed to be on the outside of a ship.

“We were going to lose it in the storm,” Marcus said. “We had to hoist it aboard.”

A wave crashed over them.

Marcus dove under the canvas tarp.

Patrick did too. He landed in a puddle of freezing water.

“Yikes!” he yelled.

“Oooh! That’s cold,” Marcus said.

“Why was that soldier so mean?” Patrick asked.

Marcus said, “He hasn’t eaten for a while. And he’s tired like everyone else. That makes him grumpy.”

“Why hasn’t he eaten?” Patrick asked. He formed a cup with his hands. He scooped up some water. Then he tossed it over the edge of the small boat.

The boys peeked between the canvas and the lifeboat.

Another wave hit. It splashed more water into the boat.

“Everyone’s seasick. And the storm has people worried,” Marcus said.

Patrick’s hands were too cold to toss out more water.

“Where’d you come from?” Marcus asked. “I don’t remember seeing you earlier.”

“My name’s Patrick,” he said. “I was with Aris before stumbling into Demetrius.”

Marcus laughed. “You shortened his name. I like that,” he said. “I’ll call him Aris too. He’s always telling jokes. Have you met Paul?”

“My cousin and I bumped into him. He saved us from being washed over the ship’s railing,” Patrick said.

Marcus laughed. “He wants to save everyone,” he said. “Paul tells stories about a man who rose from the dead. He says that man died on a cross to pay for our sins. I don’t know if that’s true.”

“It is true! Paul is talking about Jesus,” Patrick said. “Jesus is the way to God the Father. People who believe in Jesus are forgiven for their sins. They start a relationship with God.”

The ship suddenly plunged down the side of a large wave.

Patrick felt his stomach drop, like he was on a roller coaster.

The ship righted itself and started up another wave.

Marcus said, “I was raised by my grandmother. We lived on a small island called Malta. She never needed gods. I don’t either.”

Suddenly a harsh voice ordered, “Get out of there!”

“Oh no,” Marcus said. “We’ve been found.”

Patrick shivered. He would be glad to get out of the cold water. Sooner or later, he would have to face Demetrius. Now was as good a time as any.

“This boat is not a toy,” the voice yelled.

A large hand grabbed Patrick by the back of his tunic. Another hand yanked Marcus out of the boat.

“Ow!” Marcus said.

Patrick looked up. The man holding them wasn’t Demetrius. He was a sailor.

What have we done? Patrick wondered.