Storytime: The Mail Yacht

Today I want to share a past life story. This comes from the "Age of Sail" on Earth. A time of high adventure and ridiculous legal practices.

Back in 1710, there was a captain of a trading sloop called the Atlas. She was a shallow draft vessel capable of skimming over reefs in the Atlantic, even able to go up into the marshes at particularly high tides. The captain's name was James (Jimmy) Thornton out of Surrey, England. His crew comprised of 56 men from varying locations in the world, as was common for the day. Many were natives out of Barbados.

At first, life was easy as a merchant trader. Captain Thornton specialized in rapid deliveries, and sometimes the Atlas was jokingly called the "mail yacht" by fellow merchants. Not that Thornton minded much. The pay was excellent, especially for those special deliveries requested by governors of the growing colonies in the West Indies. Soon, Thornton had enough funding built up to build a home for himself in Connecticut. He had every intention of starting a family, though he wasn't sure if he could quit the sea easily. There would be time for that. Surely.

By 1720, trading had become far more difficult. Postage taxes were on the rise, which made communications between the colonies more expensive, and therefore less lucrative. Nobody wanted to pay a premium for fast delivery. Further, privateering had gone completely sideways on the seas. What was meant to protect his vessel from pirates and opposing rival country's often resulted in Thornton's own countrymen raiding his English ship!

The increase in taxation and pirating led to an increase in illegal bootlegging of supplies. Those who could run a ship quickly, silently, and inconspicuously became highly prized. Captain Thornton, through his experiences as a messenger of sorts had all the qualifications to begin a career in smuggling, though his heart rankled at the idea law breaking. He valued himself as an upstanding citizen of England, and becoming a smuggler would make him no better than the very scoundrels who raided his ship.

With funds dwindling, Thornton had to put his qualms aside. He turned to smuggling. Primarily rum and spices, though occasionally he delved into saltpeter and sulfur. The latter two had the benefit of preventing customs agents from looking too closely. Bat guano had a particular odor to it that was most unpleasant. Thus, the "mail yacht" became the "shit boat". The pay, however, was still very good. If you could learn to sleep on the deck and not below deck.

One fine fall morning, Captain Jimmy Thornton set out from Kingston with a cargo load of rum and processed cacao. He was to deliver these by way of quiet channels to the port in Tulum. There were Spanish missionaries that who wished to appease the locals using their religious drinks. He had no idea what they intended to do with them, and he didn't care.

The wind was up, the air unusually warm, but the currents were in his favor. Thornton made good time on the first day. That night, a squall came up, and tossed the Atlas like a toy boat in a tub. The next morning, the squall worsened, and Thornton knew a typhoon was upon him. He shouted commands left and right. His crew scrambled to and fro, when they weren't falling to the deck as a wave crashed into the side of the ship. It seemed like no matter which way he turned the ship, the waves would turn with him. Several of the crew washed overboard, and Thornton was forced to lock the helm in position and tend to the sails. They were desperately trying to furl them, but they simply wouldn't stay furled.

Lightning flashed, and the day was so gloomy it felt like night. Jimmy held fast to a rope as he heard another of his men drown behind him. He looked up at the sky, and said to himself, "If there is a God, get my men out of this. Spare me if you can, but get them out first." Tears mingled with rain and sea. He wondered what it would feel like to drown. He'd always secretly feared such a death.

Suddenly, the rope snapped, and Jimmy was sent flailing over the rail into the sea. The water was so warm it felt like bath water, yet the waves and the currents sucked him under. He heard his crew shouting his name. Saw a boat being lowered. He could see the shape of it silhouetted against the sky, the oars sticking out like a strange creature's arms. So this is what sharks see when they look at us, he thought. A strong swimmer, he tried to haul himself to the surface, but the waves were turning him in the wrong direction. What seemed like up would become down only to become up again.

His air was running out. His lungs were burning. Panic started to take over his mind. A glimpse above showed him his First Mate diving down to him, arm outstretched. As Thornton reached out, clawing wildly, he inadvertently opened his lungs and inhaled. Sea water rushed in. It didn't burn as much as he thought it would, but his chest spasmed as he tried to breathe the water. He couldn't. Dimly, he felt a hand grasp his own, but he was already going. He felt himself suddenly sleepy and at peace. The light around him grew brighter. He heard the voices of his childhood calling him. Friends that he hadn't seen. His grandmother and grandfather. His father.

The light enveloped him, and his body ceased to matter. It wasn't that he left his body. It was more like his body just dissolved away into nothing. It just didn't matter anymore. Part of him fought to go back, but the rest of him drifted away into the light. Such soft light. Like the light from a window in a living room on a rainy day.

Captain James (Jimmy) Thornton ceased to be Captain James (Jimmy) Thornton. And that was all right. Everything was exactly how it needed to be. He smiled, already losing the sense of what "he" meant or "smiling" meant.

The being that was Jimmy but was now shapeless light turned to the other shapeless lights around it.

"Well, I think I resolved the fear of drowning," it said.

"Can we play pirates next time? I want a little more action."

"Oh, I don't know. The whole ocean experience on Earth seemed a little too much wetness and not enough dryness. Let's play outlaws on land instead."

"Deal!"



I thank you for your time. Adiamas.

​--Kyriel