Storm Ports

Storm Ports

  by

  Robert James Allison

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage, and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  First Suitor Enterprises

  www.RobertJamesAllison.com

  Copyright © 2014 by Robert James Allison

  January 2014

  Cover photo by the author:

  A stormy beach, Cocoa Beach, Florida

  All rights reserved

 

  Table of Contents:

  Title

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  End

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Joshua Ballinger sat quietly on the bench near a long pier looking out over the ocean. The South Atlantic is the prettiest ocean in all of the world, he mused. Of course, he had been born on the shores of the South Atlantic and was raised on a fishing boat out on the South Atlantic, so he could be just a little prejudiced, but he really didn’t think so. He had seen other oceans and he still liked the South Atlantic the best. The water was a deep blue and so clear that you could see the bottom anytime you were near the shore or a sand bar. The underwater life is exquisite, too, he thought. Fishing is the best and most enjoyable on the South Atlantic.

  Right now though, he was thinking that the South Atlantic, at least this part of the South Atlantic, was also the most dangerous. Along with paradise came perils. Having been raised on the South Atlantic he had seen the perils all too often. Sudden violent storms raged out of nowhere and dense fogs that could disorientate the best of sailors seemed to rise out of nothing. The storms and the fog had always been present in this part of the South Atlantic, had always been part of life, and too often—death.

  He hated that part of the South Atlantic because it caused too much death and destruction. Not only on shore from violent storms, but also from loss of good ships and sailors at sea. He was a sailor. He was born a sailor, and he would die a sailor, just like everyone else on this island. It was all they knew—sailing and fishing.

  The small island of Keykan had no economic base save the sea. Fishing was its only source of trade. There were only about 10,000 people on the tiny island and it was located in a very remote part of the South Atlantic. No tourists came this far south and none were asked to come, in fact, they were discouraged. The residents of Keykan liked their solitude and as long as the fishing trade kept going they were content to be alone in their paradise. Paradise except for the storms and fog, he thought with dismay. But what was to be done with the fog and the storms? The small island had no means to accurately predict storms and relying on forecasters many hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away was inadequate at best. That was when they could even get the forecasts. The satellite signals they could access were very unreliable and suffered almost as much from the storms as the fishermen of Keykan did.

  Worse though was the fog when combined with the storms. Storms could be predicted to a certain extent by the distant forecasters and even the sailors out on the ocean could watch the sky and their instruments and have some idea of the coming weather, but not the fog. The fog seemed to have a mind of its own down here. Strong southerly flows of cool air from the Antarctic swept up to the warm South Atlantic waters without warning and if it happened to coincide with a storm, the sailors were trapped. Even with the best of seamanship they could not always find their way home. Their little boats didn’t have any sophisticated navigational equipment and if they had the sailors wouldn’t have known how to use it. These sailors were raised to navigate by the stars and the planets, not use electronic navigational equipment. Most of the boats didn’t even have motors or electricity—from any source.

  Something was needed to guide them home. Some sure-fire method of determining where the ships all were and some sure-fire method of telling the ships where Keykan was in the worst of fog, wind, and rain combined. But what? Joshua was no navigational expert and no scientist. Besides, Keykan didn’t have money for such things. Even if he had known what to do, the island of Keykan probably could not have afforded it.

  Still, he pondered and worried over the problem. He had been lost out on that ocean and nearly never found his way home. Fog combined with a violent storm had nearly done him in. The fishing boat had taken a terrible beating and his father had been washed overboard. They searched for him for hours in the fog, but never found a trace. Joshua vowed from that moment on that someday he would find the answer. But that was 20 years ago and he still felt no closer than before. He loved his island and its people—he had to find the answer. Oh God, he silently prayed, give me the ability to find the answer. Allow me to help my fellow sailors and keep them from this peril.

  Keykan was a democracy for the most part, but there was really only one leader who “called the shots”. Although he didn’t so much “call the shots” as lead his people in orderly decision making. There was a parliament of sorts, but they really only consisted of respected people who passed on information to their respective districts and passed on suggestions from the people to the president. The president generally listened to the suggestions and was rarely sorry that he did. The president did not impose his will on the people, but guided them to implement their own will.

  However, when there was a problem, such as danger to the island or the fishing trade, then the president was expected to find the answer. He was elected to be the father of the people and fathers always knew how to solve problems. Once elected, the president served for life, unless he quit, or the people suggested he quit. To Joshua’s knowledge neither had ever happened. The people of Keykan were religious and faithful to God and their president. No resident felt he was better than his fellow man. Outsiders would not understand their system and their sense of equality, which is why none were invited—at least not as tourists.

  “Mr. President, I’ve been looking for you. I was worried that something had happened to you,” a voice from behind him said.

  He turned and replied, “Why? What could happen to me on Keykan? What has ever happened to a president on Keykan, except that he died of old age?”

  “I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. President, but the plane is ready and you wanted to know the latest reports from last night’s storm. I’m afraid it isn’t good. Two more ships have been confirmed lost. That makes three in just one night. That’s ten this year and it is only June,” the man concluded.

  Joshua stood, turned, and looked deeply into his Minister of Commerce’s eyes. He saw sadness there and said, “You are the Minister of Commerce, Caleb, and a member of the parliament. I expect you to disturb me at any time you have information. You have that right. One of those boats we lost, but had not yet confirmed, contained your son. Any word of survivors?”

  “No, Mr. President. No word, it is doubtful any survived.”

  “I am sorry, Caleb. I should have somehow prevented this loss.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President, but you have lost much to the sea yourself. You know we must go forward. The past is gone forever and tomorrow never comes. Today is all that God has ever promised anyone and today might end right now,” the minister said forlornly.

  “Never-the-less, I’ve been sitting here trying to find the answer. Not only because our survival depends upon the fishing, but because most of the men are so young and deserve more than the storms and fog gi
ve them. But for the life of me I cannot figure out what to do and I’m supposed to be able to. That’s why the people elected me five years ago. I’m sick with the shame of my weak mindedness.”

  “No, Joshua. It isn’t your fault. The storms and fog have been killing our young and old men for centuries. No president has ever figured out how to change that.”

  “But I should be able to, Caleb. This is a modern world we live in. We see more scientific breakthroughs each month than our fathers saw in their entire lives. There has to be an answer, but it is beyond my limited understanding. I’ve prayed about it though and I shall keep on praying about it. God understands it and God can show me the way.”

  “Yes, Mr. President, but we should be going. The plane is ready.”