QUARANTINE BLOG # 404

May 8, 2021

Today we begin a story from “The Golden Age of Sail,”  the story of Alexander Selkirk, the real Robinson Crusoe.

Selkirk’s Choice

It is September 1704. As the Cinque Ports  entered Great Bay, 360 miles off the coast of Chili, the island of Juan Fernandez was welcoming and dangerous.

Juan Fernandez was a Spanish island, and the Cinque Ports  flew an English flag. England and Spain were at war, fighting the War of Spanish Succession. The island was not a safe place for an English ship.

The Cinque Ports, an English privateer, licensed by Queen Anne to seize Spanish ships, needed to refill water casks and woodbins, and risked being the target of a patrolling Spanish man-of-war.

The captain, Thomas Stradling was aloof, unfair, and a bully. He attained his position when the original captain, Charles Pickering, died of scurvy. Once before, during the voyage, the crew revolted against Stradling.

Unlike the captain, Alexander Selkirk, age 27, the second in command, mixed easily with the men. On calm evenings he often joined them for a pint of flip – beer mixed with rum, sweetened with sugar, best served hot. Often he quarreled with Stradling about running the ship. It was Selkirk who had led the crew in the revolt.

Selkirk, as sailing master, had piloted the Cinque Ports from England around Cape Horn, into the Pacific Ocean, north along the South American coast as far as Panama, and finally south again to Juan Fernandez – 360 miles due west of Valparaiso, Chile.

So far, the hunt for Spanish and French merchant ships along the South American coast had yielded one small chest of gold coins, and thirty tons of quince marmalade. Halfway around the world to capture marmalade for their biscuits!

While provisions were brought on board, Selkirk inspected the ship. Many repairs were needed.

Careening a ship was the usual thing to do: towing it to shore, attaching running lines, and then hauling it over on its side. Timbers in the hull, holed and weakened by the wood-boring teredo worm, could then be replaced.

Stradling would not do it. Repairs could take days; a careened ship was helpless. As soon as water and wood came aboard, they would raise anchor and leave.

Selkirk argued that Stradling was overly cautious. Patrolling warships were few and far between, and the ship was unfit to sail. His life, Stradling’s life, the lives of the crew were at risk.

Stradling refused to yield. He intended to sail north along the South American coast, to ambush the Manila galleon off Mexico. This Spanish heavily laden treasure ship traveled only once each year from the Philippines to Acapulco. They had to be on station by December to wait for the galleon to appear. There would be no change of plan. His order stood. 

Selkirk refused to accept the decision. He would choose the island. No one else stepped forward.

Stradling decided to call Selkirk’s bluff. He ordered Selkirk into a longboat, along with his sea chest, a musket, and meat and biscuits. He was rowed ashore and his belongings were placed in the sand.

Hours later, the Cinque Ports  weighed anchor, and sailed with an offshore breeze. It rounded a point of land, and then was gone. Alexander Selkirk was about to face surviving alone on an isolated island in the South Pacific.

Next week, Selkirk begins an incredible story of survival that will last over four years.

👉  For our close today, here is a piece I published in The Augusta Chronicle, August 23, 1997

Chris’s Luck

A few days ago I made my tenth trip to Samara, Russia. The occasion for this trip, my first in eighteen months, my longest absence since I first started going in May, 1993, was a mission trip with nineteen young people and leaders from Wesley United Methodist Church. The primary goal was to share in ministry with “Municipal Upbringing Educational Institution Orphanage Number One” (if the Russians have a choice between a long name and a short name, I think the rules are, you must go with the longer name).

Before we left, I told the young missionaries, “When you are in Russia, you must learn to go with the flow. There will be bumps and hiccups along the way and even the best laid plans will have a few detours. Blessed are the flexible for they shall not be bent out of shape.” I did not know how prophetic that would be. When we arrived in Samara, we learned that our planned three night, four day visit at their summer camp in the Zhuguli Mountains had been canceled by government officials. So we rented a bus and drove to the camp to spend the day.

The changes in plan did not hinder the kids. Our team shared several witness performances in mime and spent time in fellowship. Even though we had six translators at the camp, there were times when the only communication possible, or necessary, were smiles and hugs.

I had hired the bus by the hour and when the driver said it was time to go I could not get the Americans onto the bus, nor could I get the Russians off of the bus. The overtime we paid was money well spent.

We joined the members of Samara Christian Center in an exciting four service crusade. Slightly less than a decade ago, Russian Christians had to meet in secret and worship quietly. Today many celebrate Jesus in exciting, charismatic fashion. For most in our group, it was the first time to worship God with raised hands, hand clapping and dancing before the Lord. They started hesitantly at first, but soon caught the flavor. It was a never-to-be-forgotten experience.

One local radio station and one local television station gave us free advertisement, the first time they had ever made such an offer for a religious meeting. We did not keep score, but several hundred Russians made first time commitments to Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior and scores more rededicated their lives to His service.

Eighteen people left Evans for Moscow. Our plans were to be joined by the nineteenth member of the team arriving from Saudi Arabia. Chris’s father was transferred there recently and the entire family moved on July 4. We had to use an international carrier to get Chris’s visa to him and it only arrived the afternoon before he was to leave for Russia.

At the first stop on the way, the airplane had mechanical problems and Chris was grounded. Our lead translator and guide, Sergei Zelenski met us at the Moscow airport with an e-mail stating Chris would arrive late. The Aeroflot information desk told us he would arrive at 9:30 a.m., so we boarded the 8 p.m. train for Samara and dispatched Sergei to meet Chris the next morning.

Remember what I said earlier about bumps and hiccups?

Chris arrived, not at 9:30 in the morning, when he would have been greeted by Sergei, but hours earlier, shortly after midnight, alone in a city where he knew no one and could not speak the language. 

An hour later, in the vast and dark cavern that is Sheremet’yva International Airport, Chris found one man who spoke English. That man put Chris in a taxi for the Kazansky railway station. 

At the train station, he found one man who spoke English and that man helped Chris buy a ticket for Samara and slipped him into an empty train car to sleep until morning. 

Finally onboard the train, Chris was berthed in a compartment with three other men, one of whom spoke English.

When they arrived in Samara, the man asked, “Who are you meeting in our city?” Chris gave the man my name, and the Russian called his neighbor, asking, “Do you know David Sisler?” The neighbor was Alla Gershburg, our lead translator in Samara!

Jimmy the Greek wouldn’t have taken those odds.

When I recounted that story, one person remarked, “Your young man sure was lucky.” It has long been my suspicion that Jesus’ middle name is “luck.” It has long been my confidence that steps of faith, ventured in Jesus’ name encounter Jesus’ blessings. That was what the Apostle Paul meant when he said, “All things – even airplane trouble in a foreign country – work together for good to those who love the Lord, who are the called according to His purpose.”

-30-