Gorma Tales of the Camino: Pablo Saves the Sinking Boat
It was midday, and Gorma felt the hot sun beating down on her head, her back, and even felt the heat in her feet. She could feel it in her feet because she was standing on hot sand, waiting at the shore of the bay for a ferry boat to take her across, so that she might continue her journey. Many passengers had just boarded the ferry, so many that it was very full, and so Gorma had to wait for the next boat. She watched the ferry pulling away from the shore and slowly putt-putt-putting across the water toward the far shore.
“I am not so sure about this boat,” a deep voice stated from just behind Gorma. She turned and saw an enormous man, nearly a giant, talking with his traveling companion, a man of ordinary height and manner who was nodding slowly, his gaze drifting and turning with unanswered questions, some, possibly, even about the boat.
The giant man introduced himself to Gorma. “I am Pablo, and this is Juan Carlos. We are pleased to see you, Gorma.” Friends for many years, they were taking a holiday together. Pablo and Juan Carlos had arrived in this small place from a great city, Barcelona, constables who keep order and keep safety in the city by keeping watch and keeping calm.
“But you are more than this, I see,” observed Gorma, who can always tell when there is more to a story.
“Ah yes, Gorma, you must know that Juan Carlos here is deeper than these waters. He is a philosopher, a student of the meaning of all great ideas in the world. Juan Carlos reads in books the words of all the saints, and all the kings, and all the wise.”
“A steady man, who finds in books the meaning you still seek abroad, perhaps?” asked Gorma, much to Pablo’s great surprise.
“Oh, Gorma, Gorma, how true it is, for I am not a student like Juan Carlos. I read the books, and they are fine and wondrous things, and yet they do not tell me what I seek to know.”
“The book you seek is still being written,” Gorma told Pablo with an encouraging pat on his arm, for she could not reach his shoulder as you might usually do. Pablo smiled, and looked out into the bay, watching for the ferry, while Gorma and Juan Carlos talked of all the things you must with a philosopher, like love and honor, justice, war and peace, and soon they heard the putt-putt-putting of the ferry boat come back to harbor.
They paid their coins, and with Saint Thomas, her walking stick, Gorma boarded, as did Pablo and Juan Carlos, and a long line of other travelers, as well. Gorma was glad to be off the hot sand at last, and she enjoyed the gentle rocking of the ferry boat upon the water as they waited to depart. But Pablo’s face was clouded with worry.
“Ah, Gorma, Gorma, I am not so sure about this boat.” He watched uneasily as the ferryman loaded more and more travelers onto the deck. “The ferryman’s pockets ride low and heavy with all our coins, and now the boat rides low and heavy in the water with all these people. How many people can such a boat hold, Juan Carlos?”
But Juan Carlos had no idea, for that would be a fact of boats and numbers, not philosophy of right and wrong. Of this he had some sense, however, and looking at Pablo turning side to side, trying to count all the heads of all the people he could see, Juan Carlos knew that something now must surely be amiss.
As the ferry pulled away from the shore, the boat sank low and swayed so badly, all the people gasped and cried, “Oh no! Oh dear! Oh my!” Gorma nearly lost her balance, had it not been for Saint Thomas. As the boat turned toward the farther shore, Pablo saw the water lapping over. Keeping watch, he calmly noted where the ropes and railings were, and so kept track of danger as the ferry passed the midpoint of the bay.
But then it happened that the ferryman’s heaviest pocket, which could barely hold the weight of all those coins, began to tear. And when it split, the coins came raining down around his feet, and in his haste to grab the coins – he let go the wheel. The ferry pitched and tossed and turned in crazy circles as the ferryman was scrambling for the money on the deck.
“We’re sinking!” someone yelled, and it was true, and all the people started screaming, pushing toward the center, trying not to fall into the bay.
“Now I’m sure about this boat, I am – oh Gorma, Gorma, take care of Juan Carlos!” shouted Pablo as he dove into the bay. Then Pablo, that giant of a man, swam underneath the ferry boat, and bracing his shoulders with all his might, he lifted up the boat upon his back and started swimming while he carried it like a heavy pack.
All the passengers on the boat cheered and cheered, until one person noticed, “Hey! We’re headed out to sea!”
“Oh no! Oh dear! Oh my!” the people gasped and cried. They tried to shout a warning to Pablo, but he could not hear for all the water in his ears, and he could not see where he was swimming for all the water in his eyes. He only knew that he had to keep order and keep safety, for all the people depending on him, and that was what he was doing, though his back was aching, his arms and legs were burning tired, and he could hardly catch a breath of air.
Then Gorma heard a splash! and heard a person wail, “A man has fallen in the water!”
“Oh no! Oh dear! Oh my!” the people gasped and cried. And Gorma saw that it was none other than Juan Carlos.
Juan Carlos matched great Pablo’s strokes, and swimming nearly hand in hand, he led his friend back toward the far shore of the bay, and not the open sea. For when you know the meaning of love and honor, justice, right and wrong, you know that one who will save lives by risking his own is like no other. Juan Carlos sought the greatness in human beings; and now he saw in Pablo beat this tremendous kind of heart.
As they brought the ferry safely to the farther shore, the passengers on board all cheered: “We’re saved!” Then they hugged and kissed Pablo and Juan Carlos, who were both very wet, until they were both very embarrassed. But this is how it is, when you are heroes.
The ferryman’s coins had washed into the bay, and now his empty boat was slowly sinking. Gorma, having boarded first, now picked up Saint Thomas and disembarked, last of the saved. She laughed with joy at the the parade following Pablo and Juan Carlos into town to the taverna.
But Gorma walked on, quiet and smiling. She arrived at the next albergue just in time for a bed, for which she was very grateful, and she slept deeply. Back at the taverna, the celebrations, singing and dancing and laughing all together, lasted far into the night.
Buen Camino, Pablo and Juan Carlos.