Christian Writing Contest

The Athanatos Christian Ministries 2009

John Milton Award

goes to

Morgan Nystrom

Anzac, Alberta.  Canada

Third Place

(Category:  High School)

Bio: My name is Morgan Nystrom. I am eighteen years old and have recently graduated after being homeschooled all my life. Along with my seven siblings, of whom I am the oldest, I grew up in the city of Fort McMurray, Alberta. My family and I now reside in the small, rural community of Anzac, just south of Fort McMurray.

During my high-school years, I developed the ambition to write. My goal is to create wholesome novels that will inspire good character qualities in today’s children and teenagers. My favourite writers include J.R.R Tolkien and L. M. Montgomery, who have both inspired me with their literary classics. I am currently enrolled with the Institute of Children’s Literature and am in the process of writing my first children’s novel.

To contact Morgan Nystrom you may request her contact information through the contest administrators by sending an email to director@athanatosministries.org.

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GREATER LOVE

by Morgan Nystrom

Copyright 2009, All Rights Reserved

William Cabot rolled over in the dark and peered at the clock on the wall trying to see the time. He started as the old Grandfather clock in the hallway suddenly sent out four rolling chimes. William’s wife shifted in bed beside him but did not wake. That old clock was loud but the entire family had been listening to it all their lives and hardly noticed it anymore.

The big man grunted as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. He walked slowly to the water jug and poured the water into the wash basin. Shivering, he splashed the icy water on his face and neck. Again, he glanced at the clock and reached for the towel, thinking that he had best hurry if they wanted to get the boat out by six.

William Cabot, who had inherited his last name from the Italian explorer John Cabot, was a fisherman. His father had been a fisherman and his grandfather had been a fisherman. William’s son, William Cabot Jr., would no doubt also be a fisherman. The boy had already shown a keen interest in the trade. Many a time he had begged to be permitted to assist his father with his work. However, it was William Sr.’s opinion that his son should stay in school until he was fourteen years old. William had taken his son out in the sturdy fishing boat many times, but refused to allow his son to become part of the Cabot & Co. business until he had reached the respected age of fourteen.

Now the long awaited birthday had come and was, in fact, seven days past. William Cabot had finally hired his son as the newest addition to Cabot & Co. Fishing Business, and had promised that his son should accompany him the next time he was required to take the small fishing boat out for a fresh catch.

William pulled his clothes on over his long flannel underwear, for he knew, from years of experience, that a day out on the Atlantic Ocean was bound to be more than chilly. He looked out the bedroom window at the small town of St. John’s, Newfoundland. The sky was still dark, but the faint tinge of orange on the horizon showed that the sun had begun to rise. He could hear the sound of waves breaking against the rocky shore and it reminded him to hurry.

Walking to the kitchen, William lit a lantern and set it on the table. Quickly he made a fresh pot of coffee and put it on the wood stove, then moved down the hallway to the boys’ bedroom.

William and his wife had three sons: Erik was the youngest, only ten, and Lester, the next boy, was twelve. Then, of course, was the oldest son, William Jr. Friends and family had taken to calling the boy Jack so as not to confuse William Jr’s name with his father’s. No one knew how the name had originated, but it had stuck, and that was how he was known ever after. The room down the hall contained William’s one and only daughter, Leslie, who had been named after her mother. Everyone who knew little Leslie called her “Papa’s little girl” and “Papa” heartily agreed.

William pulled the quilt closer about the chins of his two younger sons. Even in the house, the morning air was chilly. He then moved to the bed of his oldest son.

Shaking the boy’s shoulders, he whispered, “Jack, it’s after four. You promised me you’d be up.”

Jack rolled over and murmured sleepily, “Yes, father, I’ll be along in a minute.”

William chuckled to himself, knowing that if he left the room the boy would be fast asleep in less than a minute. He grabbed a corner of the warm quilt and whipped in back, exposing his son to the cold morning air.

Jack jerked himself up in bed. “Alright,” he muttered, “I’m up.”

“See that you are,” replied the boy’s father, laughing to himself. “When I was a boy my father used to douse me with cold water if I wasn’t up on time.”

Jack did not know whether to take this as a threat or not, but he washed and dressed himself hastily, resolving to rise at four o’clock sharp on future mornings. Today was the day of his first fishing trip as an official member of his father’s business. He was very excited. For his birthday his father had given him all of his fishing gear and tackle. These were now in the fishing shed beside his father’s gear. Jack was feeling very grown up and responsible. He was determined to show his father just how grown up and responsible he could be.

William and his son ate a swift breakfast, gathered the lunches that had been put together by Mrs. Cabot the night before, and were on their way. They did not bother to leave a note for Mrs. Cabot. As the wife of a fisherman, she was used to these early morning fishing trips.

Father and son walked briskly to the shore where they were met by William’s three fishing partners. Quite a trio were these three men, for they differed greatly in every way. Jack had met these three men before but only briefly, therefore Mr. Cabot introduced them again.

“Jack,” said William, placing his hand on the shoulder of a tall, skinny man in his early twenties whose slender build made him seem much taller than he really was. “This, as you may remember, is Lemuel Anderson.”

Mr. Anderson reached out a hand to the boy saying, “Mornin’ son, you just call me Lem.”

Jack nodded as he took the man’s outstretched hand. He thought that Lem moved like a puppet on strings and seemed to be all knees and elbows.

William turned to the next man who looked to be around sixty. He was leaning against a post with a cup of coffee in his hand. One look told Jack that this man was not a morning person.

“You remember John Buford, don’t you, son?”

Jack nodded. “Good morning, sir,” he said pleasantly.

Mr. Buford returned the boy’s cheery greeting with a grunt and a nod, then went back to his coffee.

Lem, who was obviously a cheerful man who enjoyed his fun, jostled Mr. Buford playfully. “First impressions–especially in the mornin’–make Old John look like a crotchety old gentleman,” he said to Jack. “You know, I’ve always said that–in the mornings–John is just like a shirt with too much starch in it: stiff, rattling and irritating.” Lem laughed at his own joke, and once again jostled the old man, who muttered irritably under his breath and took another gulp of coffee. “But don’t worry,” the young man continued, “He’ll soften up as the day goes on.”

“Now, Jacky,” said Lem, turning to the last man, “this is-,” he stopped and cleared his throat dramatically, “James…Hayes.” He pronounced each syllable of the man’s name with almost painful precision.

If looks could kill Lemuel Anderson would not have had time for any last thoughts, for James Hayes shot him a look that would have withered any other man. Lem only laughed and rested his elbow on Jack’s shoulder as he said, “Jim hates to be called by his full name. He says that his first and last name rhymes too much and makes him look foolish. I guess that shows you just how much schoolin’ he’s had.”

Jack thought that he could understand how Mr. Hayes felt, for above all he absolutely detested to be called “Jacky”.

Lem laughed again, “He would gladly strangle any one who dared introduce him as James. So,” here Lem lowered his voice, “it’d probably be best if you just called him Jim.”

Jack nodded and tried to look respectful as he shook Mr. Hayes hand and said, “Nice to meet you Mr. Ha-Jim.”

Jim grunted and looked stern, but there was a twinkle in his eyes as he returned the boy’s handshake.

“So, Cap’n,” said Lem, addressing William, “shall we be starting then?”

When one looked at William and compared him to his companions, it became apparent just how big a man he was. His six foot five inch height brought him to almost a full head taller than any of the men, and his muscular build made him seem like a giant. He outweighed any one of the other men by nearly a hundred pounds and his obvious strength made his partners look small.

William turned to Lem, who was the youngest of the crew, with the exception of Jack, and said, “Yes, if we’re ready, we can be on our way.”

“Ay, ay, Cap’n,” returned Lem energetically as he moved the fishing gear and food provisions to where the boat was resting on the rocky shore.

The three older men watched Lem and shook their heads. He could be ridiculous, but every one of them, even “Old John” and James Hayes, were fond of him.

After all of the gear and provisions were loaded, the men prepared to board. The sun was now well on its way up and William turned worried eyes to the sky which was becoming grey and overcast.

“Looks as though a storm is on its way, boys,” he commented.

The other men looked up at the brooding sky.

“Ay, Cap’n,” said Jim, “but by the look of things it won’t hit before noon. We’ll beat it.”

“‘Sides,” cut in Lem, “we’ve toughed out storms afore.”

In spite of the confidence of Jim and Lem, all four of the men knew that a storm on the Atlantic Ocean was nothing to take lightly. They also knew that the sea had claimed many lives and that it was a thing to be respected.

However, William and his men were experienced fishermen, and never before had a storm caught them unawares or off their guard.

So, having made the necessary preparations, the men shoved off and headed out to the open sea.

All three of William Cabot’s partners enjoyed having young Jack aboard. It was a pleasure for them to have someone to whom they could show off. Even John Buford “softened up” just as Lem said he would.

The men enjoyed singing as they fished. A popular song in Newfoundland was “Saint Brendan’s Voyage” and the five companions sang it lustily as they floated over the cold waters of the ocean.

Their catch consisted mainly of Cod, a great favorite among the Newfoundlanders. The average weight of a Cod fish is 10-25 pounds. Jim, however, boasted that he had once caught a 200 pound Cod.

Lem laughed heartily over this. “You never caught a two hundred pound Cod. I ain’t never seen a Cod so big.”

“Well, I think I’ve got a few more years under my belt than you, youngster.”

All the men enjoyed teasing Lem about his “tender age”. They knew that he disliked having his age compared to theirs, and all laughed at the indignant look on his face when Jim referred to him as a “youngster”.

“Did you know,” asked John, turning to Jack, “that Cod can change color when they get to a certain depth in the ocean?”

Jack nodded. “Yes, they change from a reddish-brown to a grayish-green.”

“Ay,” said John, “but I prefer the reddish-brown ones. They look more appetizing.”

John Buford must have been the only man in St. John’s-the only man in Newfoundland for that matter-who was not fond of fish.

The men had become so preoccupied with their fishing that all of them, even William, had forgotten to watch the sky. Time passed more swiftly then they had expected, and suddenly, without warning, the storm was upon them.

It seemed as though the sky had fallen, and all the waters of the heavens came after it. The wind raged and moaned, and wave after wave beat relentlessly over the small fishing boat. The men clung desperately to the boat while William’s huge form sheltered his son, keeping him from being washed overboard.

As time went by, the storm worsened. Suddenly, an enormous wave came over them like a giant carpet being rolled up and overturned their small fishing craft.

Gasping for breath, William rose to the surface. A wave crashed over him, forcing him under, and again he struggled to the surface. Treading water, he looked around frantically for Jack. Through the rain and the waves it was difficult to see anything, but then he caught a glimpse of his son struggling in the water. William swam toward the boy calling his name.

As he reached Jack he caught hold of his arm and dragged him through the water to where the overturned boat was tossing and rearing with the wind and the waves.

Lem and Jim were already there waiting for them.

“Where’s John?” shouted William, struggling to be heard above the noise of the storm.

“I don’t know,” Lem shouted back, “I didn’t see him come up…thought maybe he was with you.”

“He may still be under the boat,” Jim called.

A knot formed in William’s stomach. “Jack, stay here and hold on,” he ordered. “Jim, you too. Lem, you come with me.”

Without a moment’s hesitation both Lem and William released their hold on the boat and dove into the icy water.

The coldness of the water was like a punch in the chest as William swam under the boat. He had to stop himself from inhaling sharply. He pried his eyes open, but could see nothing in the dark water. His hands probed around the boat, but he could feel nothing but the hard wood beneath his fingers. There was no sign of John anywhere.

How long he was under the water for, William did not know, but it felt like hours. His lungs begged for air, and bubbles streamed from his mouth. It was not long before he was forced to return to the surface.

Grasping the boat tightly, he turned to his men. With a sudden shock, he saw Lem next to him. With one hand he was holding onto the boat, and with the other, he was holding onto John Buford. The old man was gasping for breath, and his limbs trembled violently as, with Lem’s help, he held onto the overturned boat.

William heaved a sigh of relief and leaned his head against the boat. “Thank God,” he breathed.

“I’ll say,” said Lem, laughing, “I really didn’t want to go back under for you.”

William shook his head. Even in a situation like this, Lem could still laugh.

After several hours, the storm still did not lessen and the waves washed over them threatening to loosen their tight hold on the boat. Then, William began to notice that the boat was much lower than it had been an hour ago. His end of the boat, especially, was so low in the water that only his head and shoulders were above the water. With a sudden tightening of his throat he realized that cracks had sprung in the boat. Water was seeping through. This greatly diminished the chance that the boat would simply float out the storm. The great weight of their bodies also added to the slow but steady sinking of the boat.

He said nothing to the men. What was there to say? There was no way to lessen the weight of the boat unless-

A sudden idea struck him. But no, he could not even think of it. He tried to push the thought away, but it kept nagging at him and refused to be forgotten. He knew that he accounted for most of the weight that was pulling the boat deeper and deeper into the water, dragging the men-his own son-to their deaths. But could he really do it? Could he really…sacrifice himself for the lives of his men?

He thought of his wife and three other children at home…waiting for him to return. He thought of how his children ran to the door, all talking at once, when he came home from a hard day’s work. He thought of the smell of a home cooked meal and how they all joined hands as he said the blessing and thanked God for the continued health and protection of his family.

Then he looked at his son, Jack, holding onto the boat with both hands–his knuckles white with the effort, his lips blue with the cold, and his hair dripping water over his white face. Then, another thought came to William’s mind.

Last night, before bed, he had read to the children from the Bible. One verse, short, simple, yet so effective. It was John 15:13, a verse that stood out in his mind so vividly that he could see it as clearly as if it had been etched into the wood of the boat. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

Greater love. That, thought William, must be the best kind of love. Greater love–the type of love you can’t beat, that goes beyond any type of love one can think of.

Greater love.

Could he be capable of that kind of love? Could he lay down his life for his friends?

Again, he looked around. Lem was there next to him, still holding onto John, his hair plastered over his face. Then there was Jim, holding on tightly, trembling violently as a cold spell came over him. Last of all was Jack…his son. William sighed sadly. To think that his son’s first real fishing trip should end like this.

Greater love, he thought again. After looking around once more at his companions he knew that he could indeed be capable of that kind of love.

Another wave washed over them, and the boat sunk treacherously low into the water. William turned to Lem. He was the youngest of his small crew, not counting Jack, but his natural cheerfulness and optimism made him the strongest of them all.

“Lem, look after the others,” he said, so that only the young man could hear. “I need you to promise me that, no matter what, you’ll see that their safe.”

Lem looked confused. “What are you talking about, Cap’n?”

“Never mind, just promise. I’m leaving everything in your charge, do you understand?”

Lem did not understand, but he nodded, thinking that perhaps that cold was affecting his “Cap’n”. He nodded reassuringly. “I promise Cap’n. Don’t worry yourself on that account.” Lem

turned back to John who was slipping slightly out of his grasp and helped him find a better hold on the overturned boat.

Another wave dashed against the small fishing craft. As it washed over, William released his hold on the boat and allowed himself to slip into the cold waters of the ocean.

Lem turned back to William Cabot’s place as the boat immediately lightened and bounced back out of the water. His face whitened with shock when he saw that the Captain was gone.

“Cap’n”, he yelled, scanning the tossing waters for a sign of his friend. “Cap’n Cabot!”

Lem’s first instinct was to dive into the waters in search of the man, but he suddenly remembered his promise and knew that he must stay.

The other men, realizing what had happened, took up the call. But there was no answer, nor any sign of the Captain’s body. Jack rested his head on the boat which floated much higher now that it was relieved of William’s great weight. He was weeping, his tears mingling with the rain.

Lem looked around at the small crew that was now in his charge, and thought about what his Captain had been trying to tell him a moment before. Lem chided himself severely. He should have known that the man had been up to something. Oh, it was so like him to…Lem could not think of it and, like Jack, he leaned his head against the side of the boat and wept.

Barely an hour later the storm subsided, and half an hour after that, a rescue boat was sighted.

The men were picked up and given blankets to warm themselves as best they could until they reached land. They searched the waters briefly for the body of William Cabot but, knowing that there was no hope for him and that it was more important to get the others back to land and hospital care, they headed for the St. John’s port.

Once they had landed, Lem stopped only long enough to get himself a dry pair of clothes. After that he headed at once to tell Mrs. Cabot the sad news.

He did not bother to knock as he reached the house, but opened the door quietly and stepped in. He looked around and saw no one.

Suddenly his eyes fell upon something that again brought the tears to his eyes.

William Cabot’s Bible.

Lem had seen the Captain with this book so many times that it seemed almost a part of him. He picked it up reverently, and opened it to a place that William had marked with a short strand of ribbon. Immediately he noticed a short passage that had been underlined in red. The tears overflowed and streamed down Lem’s cheeks as he read it.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

The End

Tags: Greater Love, John Milton
Filed under: High School Award Winners