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Abban stood holding his lantern onshore to greet us where we moored the boats. The sun had not risen yet, but I could tell by the glow in the east that we needed to move quickly. I hissed to Andrew, “Tell the men to unload as fast as they can. Abban has brought wagons.”
They worked efficiently, forming a line. Two lifted sacks from the keels of the boats and handed them over the side, and they would pass from one man’s hands to the next until they reached a wagon on the beach. Other than their grunts and heavy breathing, and the thud as each sack was hoisted into a wagon, they also worked quietly.
In the growing light I looked up the beach and saw Jesus walking toward us. But looking much farther up the beach, I saw the lights of several torches. It appeared as if a large group of men was camped on the beach. I motioned to my brother to hurry over to where I waited.
“Don’t wander too far away,” I cautioned him. “I’m worried about those fires up the way.”
He tilted his head casually in the direction I had indicated. “Oh, those? Yes, I strolled over and saw that they were Roman soldiers. About twenty of them, I think, but I didn’t want to disturb their sleep to get an exact count.”
I hated when he did things like this to me. “Are you crazy? Those soldiers could bring a storm down on all of us! We have to finish and get out fast before they notice us.”
Though we had aged and traveled many roads in our separate lives, I immediately recognized the playful glance in his face that I had seen so many times when we were boys. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he laughed as he pretended to sock me in the arm. “They don’t worry me. In fact, maybe I should lie down and take a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Jesus had been playing, but now I did not. I socked him in the arm. Hard.