Vado per mare

We could not reach the rescue ship. The storm was too strong. So we rowed towards the shore. It took hours. Every wave tried to turn our boat over. Every gust of wind tried to drown us. The people on the beach saw us coming. They ran to help.

Finally, we reached the shore. The men pulled our boat onto the sand. We were safe, alive. I fell on the beach and I could not get up. I was alive, but inside I felt dead. God had saved me, but why? I did not deserve it.

The people of Yarmouth were very kind. They gave us food, warm clothes, and places to sleep. The city officials gave us money. We could go to London or go back to Hull. They treated us like heroes, but I felt like a fool.

Now it was my chance. I had to go home, fall at my father's feet, and ask for forgiveness. He would welcome me. Like the prodigal son in the Bible, he would kill the fat calf for me. He thought I was dead. What joy to see me alive!

But I did not go home. Why? I cannot explain it. Something dark pushed me forward. My mind said, “Go home!” But my feet did not obey. Was it destiny? Was it the Devil? Was I cursed? I do not know. I only know that I did not go home.

My friend found me after three days. He looked terrible. He had changed. The storm had broken something in him. “How are you?” he asked quietly. His voice was different. The boy who laughed was gone. Now he looked like an old man.

His father was with him. When he learned who I was, the old captain became very serious. “Young man,” he said, “you must never go to sea again. This storm is God’s warning for you. You are not made to be a sailor. Go home while you can.”