Water Chase (6 page)

“Thanks, Mr. Harris. Good night.” Peter said.

“Good night, Dad.”

He smiled at them and waved them off, as if impatient for them to be gone.

Once in their room the boys looked at each other.

“You know, Peter, Dad seemed kind of different tonight.”

Peter nodded. “I know. At first I thought he was making fun of me when he asked about praying, but afterward I thought he was really interested.”

“Do you think our prayers are beginning to work — about Dad, I mean?”

“Maybe. But we’ve praying so much about the ‘Chinook’ the last few days, we haven’t thought so much about your Dad. I guess people are lots more important to God than boats!”

Donald smiled and nodded. Together they knelt to pray beside their beds.

E
VERYBODY WAS BRIGHT and cheerful the next morning. Right after breakfast the boys started off to the wharf to look over the “Chinook” and see what changes had been made in her, but to their surprise Mr. Harris called them back. He told them they were not needed down at the docks and that he had arranged a day’s outing with friends.

“He sure wanted to get rid of us; I can’t figure it out at all!” Donald said to Peter, as soon as his father was out of earshot.

“Perhaps he has workmen on the ‘Chinook’ fixing it up,” Peter said. “Did you notice he had a different look this morning — as if he was pleased about something?”

“Yes, but I can’t figure it out!”

“We’ll find out when we get home tonight.”

That evening they weren’t allowed to go near the boat, and from the hotel they couldn’t even see her with so many launches, yachts and fishing boats tied up at the floats. The next day it was the same thing all over again. Donald’s father had brought their rods and tackle from the boat, rented a station wagon, to take them up to Forbes Lake for a day’s fishing. The day was perfect; they
caught several trout for supper, but try as they would they couldn’t get a word out of Mr. Harris about the boat and why they were forbidden to go on board. As the day progressed he became increasingly cheerful and by four o’clock was quite ready to pack up and head back to Campbell River.

As they were taking things out of the car he held up the string of fish, glittering in the sunlight.

“I have an idea!” he said, as if it had occurred to him at that very moment. “Let’s go over to Bairds for supper. We can take the fish with us.”

“Sounds like fun!” Donald said. “But how. …”

Mr. Harris interrupted. “You boys go in and get washed and changed. Meet me here in fifteen minutes.”

They were quick and soon joined Donald’s father. Walking out to the wharf they both wanted to run and only with difficulty managed to stay with Mr. Harris. He was still beaming, and looked as if he had some special surprise.

Peter looked around for the “Chinook.” Dark brown and green. There was no boat in the harbor that looked like the one they had seen in Loughborough Inlet.

“Are we going on the ‘Chinook’?” he asked.

Mr. Harris shook his head. “No.”

But Donald had stopped walking and was staring at the boats.

“I see it! I see it! There, Peter! Can’t you see?”

“Yes, but …”

“It’s white again! Come on, let’s go!”

This time Mr. Harris didn’t restrain them. They dashed down the slipway and across to the ship.
White, glistening, she looked even more beautiful than she had the day they left Vancouver — that day that now seemed so long ago.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Peter breathed. Then suddenly he caught Donald’s arm and pointed to the lifebelt hanging beside the wheelhouse.

“Look! The name painted there is ‘Ambassador.’ They must have made a mistake.”

Donald was looking as perplexed as Peter. He turned to his father.

“Dad, what does it mean? Why have you changed the name?”

“I told you we weren’t going on the ‘Chinook,’” he said. “I’m not the owner of this boat any more, Donald. I’ve made it over to Mr. Baird for a new mission boat.”

The boys stared at him.

“But Dad, what about your work this summer and the trip and everything?”

“I’ve thought about that, too. I’m going to ask Mr. Baird to let us go along with him when he takes the trip north to pick up campers. This boat is much larger so there’ll be plenty of room. Then, if need be, we can hire a boat to take us home or fly back.”

“But Dad, I don’t understand. What made you do it?”

“Come into the cabin and I’ll tell you about it.”

As the “Chinook,” renamed for the second time in a few days, crossed the Straits to Gowlland Harbor, the boys sat quietly listening while Donald’s father told his story.

“I know I didn’t give you much attention when
you came back from camp and told me you had accepted Christ as your Saviour, Donald. The fact was, it was something I didn’t want to hear. Long ago I’d had an experience like yours. Yes, Donald, when I was a boy I asked the Lord into my heart, and I promised to serve Him. Then I drifted away from Him. I was so busy with my business I didn’t have much time for God, and yet when your mother died, I blamed Him for taking her from me. I deliberately turned my back on God after that. Then I saw you and Peter, with happy faces and shining eyes, and I began to remember what it was like to have faith and trust in God. That night when we were adrift, I prayed too! I didn’t ask the Lord to save my life, but I did ask Him to forgive me for wasting my life.”

“We’ve been praying for you, you know, not just for the ‘Chinook’!” Peter put in.

Mr. Harris smiled. “Yes, Peter, I’m sure of that. And I needed your prayers.” His face was serious. “I’m just sorry to think of the time I’ve lost and how selfish I’ve been, pleasing myself, making a lot of money …”

“But if you’re giving this boat to Mr. Baird for mission work, you’re making up fast!” Peter said.

“I don’t think we can ever make up for wasted time, Peter,” Mr. Harris answered. “That is why it is good to dedicate ourselves to God when we’re young and able to give our lives in His service. I’ll always regret the lost years.” Then he smiled. “We’ll soon be there now! You know, even before the ‘Ambassador’ was damaged she was in need of a new engine, so Mr. Baird really needed some
help along the way. I like to think the ‘Chinook’ is going to take over the work of a mission boat along the coast of British Columbia.”

“Boy, Mr. Baird will sure be thrilled!” Donald said. “This is twice the size of his old ‘Ambassador.’”

They were already in Gowlland Harbor, slipping in alongside the camp jetty. The boys scrambled out on deck and looked at the old “Ambassador” with her crumpled bow. Mr. Harris tooted the ship’s whistle. Peter and Donald sprang lightly ashore and began to tie up the new mission ship.

They heard a shout and saw Mr. and Mrs. Baird running down the grassy slope toward the water, the camp workers close behind them. They came out to the jetty and were soon shaking hands and laughing. For a few moments there was a hubbub of conversation. Suddenly Mr. Baird stopped short and peered over the boys’ shoulders toward the “Chinook.”

“‘Ambassador’! ‘Ambassador’?” he said, much as the boys had done earlier. He looked from one to the other.

Mr. Harris smiled, putting his hand on the ship’s bow. “Yes, this is the ‘Ambassador’ now,” he said. Then he went across to the old mission boat. “I thought maybe I’d call this old boat the ‘Chinook.’ ‘Fair exchange is no robbery’ they say. You take the new ‘Ambassador’ for your mission work and I’ll take the old one down to Vancouver for repair and remodeling. That suit you?”

“You mean …?” Mr. Baird’s hand was flung out in a sort of helpless gesture. Smiling and
nodding, Mr. Harris took the hand and gripped it. They stood looking at each other, not talking. With a little cry of pleasure Mrs. Baird stepped aboard the new “Ambassador” for Christ — the old “Chinook” now converted into a mission boat.

Peter and Donald looked at the two men; they too smiled and nodded, then they disappeared into the “Ambassador” to look for their sleeping bags.