The
ceremony that they performed honors the decommissioning
of this vessel, which has served faithfully for 13
years. First, they lowered the flags of the nations
she has served, and then they lowered the ship’s own
colors, our nation’s flag. Canvasback Missions has
simply outgrown this vessel and is being replaced
with two 133-foot ships.
It
seems to me that it would be appropriate to talk
a little about the remarkable way in which this
ship came into existence, and maybe tell some stories
from her adventurous achievements.
A
long time ago, before these Pathfinders were born,
back in the dinosaur 70’s, my wife, Capt. Jacque,
and I spent seven years sailing our little 31-foot
sail boat on the Pacific Ocean. The Lord gave us
a dream for this vessel and many of the wonderful
things that she would do.
(To
Pathfinders:) Soldiers of the Cross: Do you remember
anything from the 70's?
(Response:)
“Sir! No Sir!” (with salute)
I
didn’t think you did. We sailed to Australia and
met with the designer, Lock Crowthers, sold our
little yacht, and flew home to begin shipbuilding.
We
returned to land near Astoria, Oregon, at the mouth
of the Columbia River. There, we began welding this
ocean-going catamaran. She was built entirely by
volunteers and it’s obvious that they were craftsmen
with great pride in their work.
It
took 4 ˝ years from laying the keel to splashing
into the Columbia River. By that time, more than
200 volunteers had invested a part of their hearts
into her.
My
heart was invested too, but my affection grew deeper
as we sailed her. The seamen who sailed her and
the medicine men who used her as a powerful tool
to heal - to heal isolated people who could be touched
only by the sea - they hold a deeper affection than
even her 200 builders.
She
sailed silently and powerfully across broad oceans,
and she gave us a great sense of security in the
storms. She was a pleasant and comfortable home
as she swung at anchor in the lagoons of the atolls.
She romped across the tradewinds and laughed into
the teeth of the storm. She was awesome.
You
have seen her technology. From her twin hulls to
her powerful rig; from her machinery to her electronics;
she has no equal. She has no peer. There has never
been a boat of her capabilities.
But
perhaps the greatest affection for Canvasback
is held in the hearts of the outer islanders; the
little children who rushed excitedly to the beach
to sing a welcome and place a small hand in ours
as we walked side by side.
The
children. Over half of the people out there are
children. The children who sat trustingly in the
dentist’s chair and who cried when they got their
immunizations. The children who won the doctor’s
heart when they shyly placed a little sea shell
into his hand to say “thank you.”
Strong
young men and women who greet us now--who smile
and shake our hands and say “yokwe,” who carry our
medical boxes and dental equipment up the beach--first
greeted us as excited little children. Some of these
young adults are still there because of the work
of this ship.
When
we first began work in the islands, one out of three
kids didn’t live to go to school, to fall in love,
to have a life. Only tiny white gravestones mark
their memory.
Canvasback
is a sailing ship, just metal and cloth, but she
is the nearest thing to a living personality that
man can create. I wouldn’t want to be Canvasback
- because she will never serve the outer island
children again.
But
this ship will get another life, with another master,
and she will romp the oceans again, and she will
escort the age of sail deep into the millennium.
She will retain her title, “Queen of the Oceans.”
As
for the children, there is brighter hope! You’ve
seen the photo of the White Holly; the
White Sage is her sister ship. These two
vessels, donated to Canvasback Missions by the United
States Congress, represent a quantum leap in our
ability to serve the forgotten people of the Pacific.
This
is a time of great excitement and great challenge
for Canvasback Missions, with new ships, new programs
and new and greater needs for raising funds to refit
the ships and get back to the islands.
The
people will wonder when they see that black hull
steaming into their lagoon. But when they see the
familiar white cross on her side, they will know
us. I think their affection will easily transfer
to the new ships, which bring them, in the words
of Queen Telita of Woja Island, “the things of life.”
|
