Sea of Honor (Noble Heart Book 5)

by Cynthia Griffith

  “What happened?” Noble finally asked in a low voice. “I don’t know how I got here. I can’t remember anything beyond pulling you away from that pirate.”

  “One of the Spanish dogs hit you over the head with a beam. I thought it was the end for you, Sir Noble. When he picked you up to carry you away I tried to fight for you, but he brushed me off as if I were a flea and the next thing I knew I was being carried off, as well.”

  “Thank you for trying, John,” Noble sighed. “But what of Sir Michael? Did you see what happened to him? Where is he? Surely he would not let the Sea Eagle sail off without us if he could help it.”

  “Your friend fell, Sir Noble. I saw it myself. He tried to come after us, but he had only taken a few steps when he collapsed. By then the Spaniards were in full retreat back to their ship, carrying as much with them as they could.”

  Noble bowed his head upon his hands. Michael! He would not, could not believe the worst. Surely Sir Michael had merely fainted because of his wounds! He was strong and brave and skilled with the sword. The enemy could not overcome him completely—or could they? His own situation could not be worse, and yet he, too, knew how to defend himself. “Father,” his heart cried out, “whatever has happened to my friend, I pray You will be with him and shelter him in Your hand. Unto Thee, oh Lord, do I lift up Sir Michael and this boy John, and yes, myself, as well. I will trust in Thee, my God, for strength and courage and deliverance from our enemies, for You alone can help us.”

  John’s voice came through to him now. “What shall we do, Sir Noble?”

  Noble lifted his head and looked around. John was staring at him, as were the other prisoners. What did they expect? That he would have the answer to their predicament? That he could provide a way to escape? That he would be their leader? There was no hope in their eyes. They were looking to him for hope.

  At last he spoke. “I do not know, John. We cannot fight these pirates. There is no way to escape them—yet. But I will not lose faith in my Heavenly Father. He knows where we are and how to help us, and I will trust Him.”

  “Bah!” one of the other men snorted. “God ain’t never helped me before. He don’t care. He ain’t going to help me now!”

  Noble gave him a steady look. “Have you ever called upon Him, my friend? Have you ever turned from your sin and accepted His salvation? Perhaps this is the time, this is the place where you need to do just that. The Lord does love you, He does care. He sent His son to prove it on the cross.” The man muttered Bah! again, but fell silent, looking thoughtful and a bit ashamed.

  A shout from one of the Spanish pirates interrupted them. “¡Silencio!” he roared. “Be quiet!” Several of them walked over to the captives, waving their swords and yelling fiercely. One of the Spaniards kicked a man who was lying motionlessly on the deck. A groan escaped his lips, and the pirate kicked him again before walking away. Noble began to pray once more. The rest of the English sailors fell silent and huddled miserably on the deck, wondering what would happen to them.

  They didn’t have long to wonder. A few minutes later there was more shouting and the captain of the galleon appeared. Though they could not understand his Spanish, they could see he was giving orders concerning them to his men. He laughed wickedly when he was done and the pirates cheered loudly and laughed along with him. They rushed toward the prisoners and began to grab them up. Some of the captives struggled, while others, frightened by their swords and knives, gave in meekly to their captors.

  There were three pirates atop of Noble. He did not stand a chance of escaping them, and even if he could, where would he go? The ocean around him was empty. He had no weapons and no one to stand beside him—except One. The words he had spoken to John earlier that day came back to him now as he lifted his prayer for deliverance to the Lord. Even in the middle of the sea,” he had said to the boy, “the Lord is there waiting for you to call upon Him. The Psalms say, “If I take the wings of morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me.” A peace flooded over him as he thanked the Lord for upholding him in the midst of the sea, in the midst of this trouble. There was not a better place to be than in the hands of the Lord.

  The pirates herded their captives over to one of the hatches and one by one shoved them down into the bilge—the deepest, darkest section of the ship. They gave them no chance to climb down the ladder, and took no care of the wounded, but threw them down one upon another, hooting and laughing as they tumbled into the darkness.

  Noble landed on one of those wounded. Before he could scramble off the injured man, two or three others came flying through the hatch. He covered his head as they fell upon him, nearly knocking the breath out of him. All around him in the blackness of the bilge he could hear men groaning and cursing. He had no idea where John Roby was. He could not hear his voice at all.

  At last the hatch slammed shut. The small patch of light above them disappeared, and so did the little fresh air that had come through, as well. The men struggled to untangle themselves, discovering new injuries and bumps and bruises. Fear was in their voices now as they called out to one another and shouted for their captors to release them.

  There was no fear in Noble’s voice however as it rose above the others. “John! John Roby!” he called.

  Finally a voice out of the darkness answered him, “He’s over here! The lad is knocked out, he is.”

  Noble picked his way toward the voice, tripping and nearly falling over several bodies along the way. The floor was covered in three or four inches of foul-smelling water, but finally he got down and crawled the rest of the way. “Where are you?” he called.

  “Right here!” the voice answered almost directly in front of him. “I think he’s starting to come around now.”

  Noble groped his way over to them. “John!” he said urgently. “John, wake up!” He shook the boy’s arm.

  “Wha—what?” John finally mumbled.

  Noble could not see him, but he felt him stir and try to sit up. “Lie still,” he ordered. “Let us see if you are hurt first.” He moved the boy’s arms and legs, and finally, when he was satisfied that there were no broken bones, he allowed him to sit up.

  John Roby clutched Noble by the arms, his fingers digging in painfully. “Th-they have shut us in!” he stammered. “It is so black down here! I cannot see you, Sir Noble! I can’t see anything! We have to get out!” His voice rose in panic as he spoke.

  “Peace, John! Be calm,” Noble spoke soothingly to the frightened boy. “You are safe for the moment. We cannot see one another, but our Heavenly Father sees us wherever we are. His Word tells us that darkness cannot hide us from Him; that to God the darkness and light are the same. He has not forsaken us.”

  “I am afraid of the dark. I always have been,” John admitted with shame in his voice.

  “It is alright, my friend,” Noble said. “Fear not, for He is with us.”

  “How do you know such things?” a voice several feet away asked. “What makes you so sure God cares about you at all? If He cared about you, why did He let you be captured to begin with?”

  “I do not know why—yet. Perhaps I never will. But He has promised never to leave me nor forsake me, and He cannot, will not break that promise for He is God, and He cannot lie. He has been there for me throughout my life. Through all the hard things and trials I have had to endure, He has brought me comfort, peace and strength. Yes, my friend, I know without doubt He cares for me and I will continue to trust in Him.”

  There was silence all around him. The men of the Sea Eagle had long ago turned away from God. They did not know what to make of this strange young knight from Caernarfon who claimed to know God. If he was afraid, he did not show it. There was something about the calm, steadiness of his voice, though, that calmed them, too, and made them think about the things he had said. When Noble began to pray aloud, several of those hardened, corrupt men bowed their heads, as well.

  “Listen to m
e,” Noble said at last to them, “Have hope. We are useless to them if we are dead, so I do not think we need fear that. What they have planned for us I do not know, but we will wait. How the Lord will help us I do not know, but we will trust. Have hope.”

  And so they settled down in the darkness to wait. In that dank, stuffy, smelly black hole a calm, steady voice was a small beacon of light to them, and the men of the Sea Eagle turned toward that light.

  _________

  CHAPTER SIX

  _________

  Light in the Darkness

  It seemed they waited an eternity. Noble lost track of the time. Had they been locked up for a day, or three days? They were given no food or water, and the air in the bilge of the ship became fouler and scarcer as the hours crept by. One by one the men collapsed, gasping for air, and sank into a deep sleep—a welcome release from the horror in which they found themselves. Rats crept around them, often biting those who lay in a stupor. Sir Noble clung to consciousness, standing guard for as long as he could over the boy at his side and the others who lay around him.

  At last the hatch above them opened. No sunlight flooded in for it was night, but the moon shed a bit of light and at last they were able to make out the shapes of those around them. A draft of fresh air flowed into the hold, as well. Several of the men lifted their heads as its cool breath touched them, almost weeping in relief as they gulped it in. Loud, rough voices called down at them in Spanish, laughing and jeering. They could not understand what they said, but they did not care, for at last food and water was being lowered down to them in buckets.

  The men would have rushed for the buckets and fought for every scrap of food if it had not been for Noble. “Wait!” he called out hoarsely. “We must make sure everyone gets their share, especially those too weak or injured to help themselves.”

  A few of the men growled angrily about this young knight giving the orders, but by then they had gained a certain amount of respect for Sir Noble, so they reluctantly backed off and made room for him to come forward and ration the food out to all.

  The food in the buckets was pitiful. One of them held biscuits in it, so hard and dry that they were almost impossible to eat. Another held some sort of thick, gummy porridge. They had no dishes or spoons, so they had no choice but to dip their filthy hands into the bucket and ladle out a handful which they then slurped or licked from their hands. It was tasteless and cold, but they were starving so they did not complain. The third bucket held water—barely enough for all of them to have one small drink. They had to pass it around since there were no cups, and each watched the others like a hawk as they drank, ready to fight if someone took more than he ought, or spilled a precious drop.

  In no time, it seemed, the food and water was gone. The buckets were pulled back up and once more the hatch was slammed shut. The small bit of light that had come through the opening was extinguished and they were plunged into total darkness again.

  It did not seem to matter so much this time, though. The fresh air and the food, as awful as it had been, had revived them a bit and there were new feelings of hope in their hearts. They had not been left in the bilge to merely die, and though they did not know what the Spaniards had in store for them, where there was life, there was hope. They began to talk among themselves a bit, trying to plot and to plan for the day they might be able to attempt an escape.

  Noble and John sat apart from the others for a while. “Where are you from, John?” Noble asked. “Is there someone back home who will be missing you? Where are your parents?”

  “I am from Castle Donington in Leicestershire, England,” John Roby replied. Noble could not see him, but he felt the boy shaking his head. “There is no one left who cares for me. My father died five years ago. My mother died of the plague when I was six years old.”

  “I am sorry, John. Have you no other family?” Noble asked.

  “Oh, I have aunts and uncles left in Castle Donington, but they all have large families of their own, so when I was twelve I left home and eventually found my way to the Sea Eagle.”

  “I, too, lost my parents when I was very young, John, but I was blessed to still have my grandparents. They brought me to live with them and raised me. My grandfather went home to be with the Lord a few years ago, and Granny and I lived alone until King Stephen took me in. I was one of his falconers until he made me a knight.”

  John’s voice sounded wistful when he answered, “You have been lucky, then, Sir Noble.” They did not realize it, but silence had fallen among the men sitting around them, and others were listening to their conversation.

  “No, not lucky, John,” Noble replied. “The Lord has blessed me in all I have and all I have done. Everything that I am now is because of what my Heavenly Father has done for me.”

  “You speak as though you have a real relationship with Him, as if He truly is your father.”

  “He is, John. He has promised to be as a father to the orphaned, you know, but beyond that, even, because I have accepted His Son, Jesus Christ, as my Savior He has promised to make me His son, as well.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then John said in a low voice, “I wish He was my father, too.”

  “He wants that, also, John, and He will be if you confess your sin to the Lord and accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior.”

  There was no hesitation. John began to pray, “I am sorry, God, for all my sins. Please forgive me. I believe in Jesus and want Him to be my Savior. Amen.”

  It was a simple prayer, but there was no doubt in the minds of those silently listening around them that something real had happened just then. Before John or Noble could say anything else, another voice spoke out of the darkness, “I’m sorry for my sins, too, God. I accept Jesus as my Savior. Please forgive me and be my Father, too.”

  And then another voice, trembling and sniffling, said, “Dear Lord, this is Charles. I know I’ve been a sinner—a bad sinner—but please forgive me of my sins. I believe that Jesus died for me and I take Him as my Savior. Amen.”

  There was silence, then, in that deep, dark hold. Out of one corner came a muttered “Bah!” Finally Noble spoke again, “Father, thank You for saving these men. Thank You for making them Your sons, and my brothers in the Lord. Help us now as we continue to trust in Thee.”

  There was no change in their circumstances. There was no miracle that allowed them to escape from the bilge on the Spanish pirates’ ship. A pittance of food and water came down through the hatch in the buckets every other day or so, but never enough to stop the hunger pangs or thirst. They remained in their black prison for days—hungry, thirsty, wet, and deprived of air. Somehow, though, the blackness did not seem quite so dark, their misery was not quite so desperate as it had been before. The calm, steady voice of Sir Noble soothed them. One by one those hardened, sinful men turned their ears and their hearts to the message he brought them of a loving God who truly cared for them and had provided salvation for them through His Son’s death on the cross. One by one they asked God’s forgiveness of their sins and accepted His salvation through Jesus Christ.

  Their new faith was tested. Days of waiting had passed and they had become accustomed to the hardships of their prison, but one night their situation became even worse. The wind had picked up and the ship was tossed on waves that threw the Spanish galleon from the heights down to the depths as if it were a twig. The men were thrown around the hold, banging heads and limbs until they were battered and bruised. They clung to one another, trying to cushion their falls. Overhead they could hear the crashing of the waves over the ship, and the pounding of the rain. The thunder was nearly deafening, and for once they were glad for the blackness of their hole for they did not have to endure the lightning as well.

  Noble thought back to his first day on the Sea Eagle. He had felt seasick then, and had prayed they would not encounter a storm at sea. Since then he had become used to the motion of being on a ship, and had had few problems with seasickness. Now, however, it all came floodin
g back and he retched miserably, thankful only that his stomach was empty.

  Suddenly a shout rose above the noise of the storm. “We’re taking on water!” one of the men yelled. “We’ve got a sprung seam! It’s coming in fast!” Water was pouring down through cracks around the hatch, as well, and suddenly the men realized the water in the bilge was rising up around them rapidly.

  “We’re trapped!” another man shouted. “We’ll drown down here! Let us out! Let us out!” he began to scream.

  Noble, John and several of the others began to pray as the water crept higher and higher. They were on their feet, trying to stand against the tossing of the ship. The water rose above first their knees, and then their waists in just a matter of minutes.

  The men in the bilge fought against panic. They were new believers in the Lord. Their faith was small, and it was weak. They had listened to Sir Noble. They had turned to God. But what if Sir Noble was wrong? What if God didn’t care? What if there was no God, after all? If something wasn’t done soon, not only would they drown in their prison, but the whole ship would sink! “God, if you are truly there, if you truly care, save us!” a voice cried out in the darkness.

  ___________

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ___________

  Pedro Vasquez

  “Lord Jesus, as you calmed the Sea of Galilee, we ask you to still the storm that threatens us,” Noble prayed out loud. “Save this vessel, Father God, and all aboard her, if it is Thy will. We place ourselves in Your hands and trust in You, no matter what. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.”

  The water continued to rise until soon it was up to their chests, but gradually they began to sense a change in the storm outside. The thunder had ceased and the sound of the rain on the deck above them quieted. The wild ride on the waves began to settle down, as well. They had no idea how long they had been thrown about—hours, it seemed—but, at last, they could breathe a sigh of relief for the storm seemed to be ending.