Jack Sparrow: Santa's Obnoxious Little Helper
What is the difference between Jack Sparrow and Santa Claus? Well, for one, Jack prefers rum, whilst Santa enjoys scoffing the milk (and cookies) that children leave out for him on Christmas Eve.
Santa Claus gives children cheap little gifts, where as Jack would come right up front about it and pinch the presents that were there in the first place. Jack wears the typical pirate attire, which is sure to scare the young ones right out of their little nighties. Mister Claus goes for the more jolly (and portly) approach with the big red suit and hat with a silly pompom on it.
So yes, you can probably tell by now that you couldn't get a more different counterpart. The two wouldn't usually coincide together, for Jack was lofty on the Christmas Naughty List. But Santa Claus, this time around, was somewhat desperate. And so, he called upon the help of a certain pirate called Captain Jack Sparrow.
TO BE CONTINUED
Jack Sparrow was in Tortuga, at the tavern to be more exact. This time around, he kept a watchful eye on Captain Barbossa. You can never be too careful with a mutineer like that one.
"Can I speak with you for a moment Mister Sparrow?"
Jack stood reluctantly. "Lead on, little elf."
The miniature looked at Jack. "Is it really that obvious?"
"The pointed ears gave the game away, mate."
"Damn!"
"Not the sort of language I would expect from one of Santa's liddle helpers," Jack pointed out unhelpfully. "Is it Elfie or Alfie?"
"Irvin actually," replied the elf. "Santa is in his sleigh, and asked me to fetch you."
"Did he now? I assume then that the fat cur still has that thing," Jack commented.
Santa had overheard Jack say this, and replied from the sleigh, "Yes, the 'fat cur' still has that 'thing.'"
"Claus."
"Sparrow."
"Claus!"
"Sparrow!"
"Here's some advice for you Claus: belt up!"
"Irvin!" Jack and Santa turned and stared at the little sprite. "Sorry, just putting my name in for reference. My bad."
Jack glanced at the big man. "So, how desperate are you aye, that you come for my help?"
Santa sighed. "Very, as you can tell. I wouldn't normally come to a vagabond like you."
"You know, I don't have to be of any assistance to you," Jack said. "Insult me, and I will leave."
Irvin pointed out the port below. "A little too late for that, don't you think? Tortuga is just a handkerchief below us now."
"What about Barbossa?"
Santa smiled. "If he takes off, that won't be a problem. If you help, I'll escort you personally to your ship and you can do practically anything that comes to mind."
"I don't really trust the fat man's promise," Jack said thoughtfully.
"Spit on it, then!" exclaimed Irvin.
Santa looked at the elf. "What a disgusting habit!"
Jack smiled. "Actually, it sounds like a very good idea."
Looking nauseated, Santa reluctantly spat on his palm, and Jack did the same.
They shook on it. "No tricks I hope," Jack said as he wiped his hand on Mister Claus's suit.
"You pirates disgust me," Santa said, glaring at Jack.
"Oh, is poor Mister Claus afraid of a liddle mess on his bulky suit?" Jack questioned him, grinning.
"This is going to be a long trip," said Irvin, sighing.
The sleigh made a path through the sky, all the way to the North Pole.
Jack's ship the Black Pearl was left behind at port, where anything could go wrong under the hands of his mutinous first mate, Barbossa. The Captain hoped that he would be able to make it back to her at all. He almost doubted it.
TO BE CONTINUED
The Christmas tree could be seen from miles away, what with all the bright lights strewn over it like the leaves in autumn. Not that it impressed any of them at all, even Jack. He thought it was rather extravagant.
"Whoa, Prancer, Rudolph," said Irvin as he drew the sleigh to a halt outside Santa's workshop.
Jack stepped out of the sleigh. It was cold, freezing cold, at such a time of the night. "How does that stuff glow like that?" he asked Irvin.
"It's Christmas Spirit," the elf replied as he lightly hopped out of the sledge, followed by Santa Claus not so lightly, who hit the ground with a thud.
"That sounds tacky," Jack said.
"The people will someday have things like this, in their homes," commented Santa dryly.
They went up the snow-laden steps into the factory. Thousands of little elves were racing through the hall. Some attended the Naughty-or-Nice Machine, which was sorting through the names of all the people. The nice ones would go to the right tube, and head on through to the Present Room. The rest of the names would be dropped into a small bucket and taken to the Whip Room.
Jack was astounded, never having seen anything like this in his life. Santa smiled smugly when he saw the Captain's face. "It's quite something."
"I suppose you have quite a bit of shiny stuff to buy all this?" Jack enquired.
"No, it all comes with the job," Santa replied.
Captain Jack Sparrow observed the Candy Engine. He fiddled with several of the levers before being stopped by Irvin. "Don't-
But it was too late. A large pile of confectionery descended to the floor.
Santa shook his head as Jack picked up a piece. "What is this?"
"Something we like to call 'chocolate'. The children love it," replied Irvin, who chirruped loudly to several of the workers. "In future, don't touch anything! It's hectic enough around here as it is."
Jack took a bite out of it, and cocked his head. "I like rum better. Have you ever thought about putting some of it in the mix?"
"Been there," the elf said. They moved along, and left a score of elves behind to clean up Jack's mess. "Done that."
"How about just rum?"
Santa turned around and rolled his eyes at Jack. "You just want rum."
"To be frank," Jack said, "Aye. Rum would be nice."
They came into a smaller room. It was decorated with tinsel and candy canes. In the centre of the room was a large desk with mistletoe framing it.
Santa Claus made a seat at it and left Jack and the elf standing.
"So," Jack said. "What appears to be your problem, aye? Come to say sorry for the lousy presents I got as a lad, eh?"
"You deserved what you got, Jack Sparrow." Santa glanced at a clock on the wall. "Time is upon me. The thing is, I was going for a holiday to Hawaii. And I couldn't leave the Workshop alone by itself when Christmas is tomorrow. And yours was the only name I could come up with. So here you are. I want you to take over the Workshop while I'm gone."
Jack was dumbfounded. "You brought me out here so I would do all your gritty work while you take a joyride to Hawaii?! Christmas comes but once a year, you do realise, Mister Claus."
Santa looked beseechingly at Irvin, who had a blank face on. "Yes, but I only get two holidays a year!"
Jack was disgusted. "So, what do you do the rest of the year, aye? I want a good answer; a truthful one at that."
Irvin answered for Santa. "The rest of the year he spends packing for the holiday."
"You're a sluggard, Claus," Jack muttered darkly.
Santa did not hear the pirate's sly comment. "Jack, you will have to steer the sleigh across the world, and in one night have done the delivery for the West Indies."
"What about the rest of it?" Jack asked.
"Ah," Santa replied craftily, "Do you really think I could get around the world in one night? No, it would be near impossible. There is a commanding sleigh for each country in the world. Then there are several hundred under that one to deal with each of regions. The little kids would never know, but chances are slim that I would have ever come to a particular house for the delivery route."
"So who drives them?"
The big man laughed. "Hoho, the elves of course. And the famed reindeer that you people hear so much about haven't gone on a Christmas Eve run in about twenty-five years. They go on the occasional errand, like tonight for instance. And you, Jack, will be driving them. They will be a little jumpy; I have to warn you, though. They won't be used to the load."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "That could be a little hectic. Are you sure that's safe?"
"Safe?" Santa guffawed again. "I should say so. It wouldn't hurt me, only you and the reindeer if it all goes wrong. Nothing to it!"
"Well, thanks for the assurance, mate," Jack said sardonically. "If it crashes, it'll be in Hawaii, savvy? I'll make sure of it."
"Okay then, Jack. I'm off. Don't touch a fibre of anything you haven't got permission to touch. I don't want to come back to a pile of rubble when I get back." Santa reached for a suitcase, whispered instructions to Irvin and waddled out the door.
"Rats, that was the plan," Jack said.
TO BE CONTINUED
Irvin looked a little hesitant at first when he saw Jack get into the sleigh. "Are you sure you can steer this? I'll come along for the ride if you need any assistance."
"Nay, it looks as easy as pie!" Jack smiled.
Irvin wasn't to be persuaded. "If you want to die, that's your problem. But I don't think Santa wants eight dead reindeer on his hands. I'm coming!"
So reluctantly, Jack let the elf come aboard. It was probably a fortunate thing that Irvin had volunteered, because the sleigh would've surely crashed, otherwise.
You see; Jack didn't really know the names of the reindeer. It would've been a handy thing to learn, but it was not to be.
Irvin had the reindeer in full swing, and let Jack take over.
The trouble began when the sleigh began to go back down to earth. "Ah, what are they doing?" Jack turned to Irvin.
Irvin replied, "You need to call them. Reindeer tend to have short memories and constantly need to be reminded that you are there."
So Jack did, though, not by their names. "Hey Dipstick, Hasher!"
Suddenly the sleigh started to go downward at a much quicker pace. The reindeer were tossing their heads and snorting furiously as they went.
"What now?" Jack looked at the elf mystified.
Irvin suddenly shouted at him, "You made them angry! Call them by their proper names!"
"Whoa, Stupid! Lancer. Wait, is one of you lads called Grommet?"
The reindeer were maddened with fury. They started to buck angrily and tried to tip the whole load over, including the riders.
"Somehow I think they shouldn't be doing that."
"Aw, you think?!" The elf looked petrified.
Jack shouted, "What do they want?"
The sleigh was hurtling towards earth. It seemed they were destined to crash.
"They want-"
"What?"
Irvin had been bounced out of the sleigh altogether. "Whoa, Dasherrrr...!"
"Irvin?"
Fortunately for the elf, he landed in a bank of snow.
Unfortunately for the elf, he was without a sleigh. "Damn you Jack Sparrow!"
Obviously, the elf wasn't such a big fan of the pirate either.
And of course, we must come up with one or the other for the fate of Jack and the reindeer. No, they did not crash and burn, typical funeral and what not. Fortunately and thanks to Jack, he realised the impact the recognition of names had had on these reindeer. You see, when Irvin called out Dasher's name, the team had quietened down considerably. Jack managed to steer the sleigh down, and they stopped for a moment to get their bearings. And names.
Jack pulled out his compass, the one that never pointed north. He wanted to get back to the Pearl the most, even more than his insatiable thirst for rum. So for, that is where the needle pointed.
"So, me beasties, what does the fat cur. call you?" Jack muttered to himself.
He swaggered down the line, pointing to the reindeer as he named them.
"Dasher."
"Dancer."
"Prancer."
"Vixen."
"Comet."
"Stupid."
The reindeer shook its head viciously at him.
"Sorry Cupid, I couldn't resist."
"Donder."
"Blitzen."
Jack smiled. "And Rudolph is with the fat cur. That's all of them."
The reindeer pawed at the snow, anxious to be off.
Captain Jack Sparrow looked at them with a shrug. "Over-enthusiasm never killed anyone but reindeer."
The reindeer were silent.
"Oh!" Jack said, "It's true what they say. Reindeer are smarter than they look. We'll throw all to the four winds then!"
And they were off, climbing the night air. That was a spectacular feat for anyone except a bird. Or a reindeer.
TO BE CONTINUED
Jack leaned back in the seat. This whole Claus thing wasn't so difficult. He hadn't quite figured with the getting down the chimney act yet. "What's this?" Jack had found the naughty or nice list.
He glanced at the nice column. It seemed like almost everyone he knew was on it. Well, except for Charlie. It didn't come as a surprise that he wasn't there.
The naughty column was bigger. Once again, quite predictable. That meant a lot of switches too.
At the top of the list was his own name: Jack Sparrow.
"Captain, Jack Sparrow," frowned Jack, as he did some alterations to suit him.
Following his own name was several Sparrows'.
"So it runs in the family, then?" Jack commented. "But my own I don't understand. I'll need to look that up."
TO BE CONTINUED
The sleigh came to rest on the roof of a house in Haiti. Jack hadn't been so sure, but the reindeer were, and majority usually wins with their lot, and Jack wasn't going to risk arguing. So that was where they were. Jack stumbled across the roof to the smokestack. Quite honestly, he was glad that no one was using the fireplace. That would hinder the process considerably.
He looked at a small tin of magic grease that Irvin had given him.
"It helps Santa down the chimney without a mess," he recalled the elf saying.
Jack denied the use of it. "Let the fat cur use it."
He slipped down the chimney. Jack brought up a black cloud of soot and had himself a coat of it when he emerged from the fireplace.
Two children who were still up met him. Two children who screamed because they thought they had seen the devil himself. They probably weren't far wrong either; anyone would look a sight to be seen in his position, if you think about it. I suppose Santa would come off looking better than Jack did, in other words.
"What, did you expect Santa Claus?" Jack said accusingly.
One of the children replied shakily, "Well, it's usually him or a crook on Christmas Eve."
"You see this face, girl?" Jack said. "This face belongs to Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm just filling in for the fat cur."
"You're the pirate?" The child replied, "We could get you grilled by the East Indian Trading Company."
"You do that, and you can claim to your little mates that you 'ruined Christmas'. Remember that, young rip." Jack went back up the chimney.
"What about the gifts? That's your current job, you know."
A couple of seconds later, Jack came back down. He chucked a couple of colourfully wrapped bundles to the pair and went to the fireplace.
"What about your milk and cookies?"
Jack's reply echoed down the chimney. "I have a preference for rum."
TO BE CONTINUED
The sleigh was led on to Tortuga. It was a wonder at all that the reindeer didn't go down the chimneys themselves, being so efficient. But then again, they were smarter than that, so as usual, Jack did the dirty work.
The Black Pearl had gone from port. Once again, Jack was not surprised. Barbossa was not one to let absence go on by without using it to his own advantage.
Jack had learned that to his own disadvantage several times. Not that it set him back much; he had the sleigh. And not just any old sleigh, one that flies. Jack had to grudgingly admit that flying was faster than sailing.
His ship had gained a head start, but with the combination of night time and disillusioned to the facts of how and why Jack had gone, Barbossa was not making any point of making any more distance than he saw fit to be done.
"Hello, who do we have here, aye?" Jack steered the sleigh to right near the ship.
He dragged the sack out of the back and waved to the reindeer. "Oho, I'm not letting that heap of junk on my ship! Dasher, take a lap to the moon or something. We're almost finished."
The reindeer with the sleigh glided off in the direction of the orb in the sky. "Ho, they're really tryin' it!"
Jack put his hand in the sack. He lifted out a bottle of rum for Gibbs. "He doesn't really have much of an imagination does he? Then again, I'd probably choose the same, so I can't talk."
Jack dragged the sack down into the bunkers. Reluctantly Jack parted with the bottle. "It's not fair."
The next one was port. Jack wasn't as worried to separate from that one.
Ragetti got a glass eye. "I suppose he'll lose it though. What a waste."
One by one, Jack dispersed the contents of the sack. Rationally, most of it was alcohol in some sort. The Black Pearl pirates don't tend to differ all that much when it came to wishes. The last one was for Barbossa, who in Jack's books, did not deserve squat. It wasn't surprising that it was a bushel of green apples. For a villain, he didn't change much either.
If Santa Claus were on the job, he would have been more or less indifferent. But Captain Jack Sparrow was not Santa Claus; he was Jack Sparrow.
Now, do not get me wrong; Jack is usually quite a nice person. You look over his history and you will note that he has not really ever done anything vindictive. Careless and juvenile perhaps, but never vindictive. Hey, males will be males always.
But the whole giving away thing with out having the pleasure of pinching a quarter or two would really get on your nerves. And what, my dear people, was Jack doing this fine Christmas Eve? Certainly nothing piratey. And pirates can't go a day without doing something completely stupid. It is a proven fact. Just look at Jack and you must agree.
Jack crushed the lot of apples and splattered them all over the sleeping man. "Merry Christmas, you daft goat!"
Barbossa woke up almost immediately. Could you blame him? He has just had an early morning apple bath. I do not suppose that was quite what he was expecting to wake up to, but then again, what could you expect?
"What in blue-
But Jack was fleet of foot, and he had already made good his escape.
"Dasher! That was quick! I must commend the team's speed- and then be on our way, savvy?"
If Barbossa had come up on deck, he might have caught a glimpse of the sleigh and known that Jack Sparrow had had the last laugh. Literally. But Barbossa wasn't so sharp, after all. For who can outwit Jack and expect the victory to last? Certainly not him.
TO BE CONTINUED
Jack was almost glad to see the North Pole again. Not in the sense of 'home sweet home', but that he had the knowledge that the sooner he finished the skivvy work, the shorter time he would have to wait until he could get back to the Black Pearl.
He grabbed the now-empty sack from the back. Wait a second. There was something still in it. Jack already knew what it was, an old friend.
Jack cracked the switch. "Whiplash."
Since he was a lad, he had been on the Naughty List. And naughty boys and girls get one thing from Santa- a switch. The type that goes around the butt. Not a very pleasant experience.
Then Jack smiled. "You my pretty are going to spread some good tidings!"
TO BE CONTINUED
Jack was standing by the gate as Santa Claus came back on Rudolph. The wretched beast looked utterly done in, carrying such a large burden as he.
Irvin the elf had made it back earlier. Elves have lots of little friends, and with that whistle, they were as obvious as Mount Everest.
"Oh. You're back early." Jack raised his head slightly. "Why?"
The large man looked miserable. "The weather was appalling."
"Well, that's nice," Jack said. "The rounds were done. But I have a question to ask you first."
"Ask away," replied Santa.
"I will," Jack said. He raised the switch and said one word: "Why?"
"That's easy," Santa replied. "You were on the naughty list, and still are."
Jack shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Why the switch?"
Santa glared at him. "You spiked the milk!"
"The vodka?" Jack smiled. "Ah, good times. It warms you up all right. My father gave me my first try of that when I was about five years of age. But nothing beats the rum. Glory days to the first day of rum!"
Santa Claus shouted, "I'm allergic to vodka!"
"Hey? I thought you liked it. You drained every glass of it."
The elf put in his comment. "His memory is a little short. He forgot every time."
Jack turned to him, with a face showing utter fury. "Because you have amnesia, I get a switch? Why didn't you say something?"
"Hey, like I said," the elf said, "he has problems with memory."
Jack cracked the whip menacingly, with a tone to match. "My father tanned my hide every bloody Christmas. It was so predictable that it was like an annual ritual. What do you have to say, you fat cur?"
Santa smiled fearfully. "Hoho ho, Merry Christmas?"
"I'll give you a 'Merry Christmas!' In fact I'll repay the honour!"
The last thing to be heard was a fat man shrieking in agony as a very angry customer thrashed the stuffing out of him.
And yes, Santa Claus deserved that.
TO BE CONTINUED
Ironic it was that Christmas Day was the day that Jack Sparrow was taken back to his ship the Black Pearl. The elf Irvin flicked the reins.
"Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
Jack checked the compass, but the elf shook his head. "No need, Jack. She's in view now."
The pirate poked his tongue out and folded his arms. He justified himself by saying, "Your head was in the way."
"Prepare for landing, pirate!" The elf suddenly roared, "Sleigh roll now!"
"What the-
Jack's exclamation was cut off when the whole sleigh suddenly flipped.
He was sent flying through the air.
"Thanks for stopping, Jack!" the elf called merrily as the sleigh righted again.
"Well that was a fancy trick," Jack said. Then he came to terms that he was falling. "Oh bugger, I hope the Pearl isn't under talon!"
Fortunately, she wasn't. If she was, chances are that contact from the sky would break more than bones.
All the same, sometimes hitting the water can be like running into a brick wall. If any of you have done that before- then you know how Captain Jack Sparrow felt.
It was one of those moments where you feel you are never destined to catch another breath of air again.
One of the thoughts he might have had could be similar to 'Death would be nice!'
But then you think of the things you love most in this world, like rum, chocolate and ship. The next thing that boosts the value of the meaning of life would be actually seeing the thing you love.
"Ooh, ship! Pretty...!" So Jack survived.
It really was not difficult to tell what was one of the aspects of inspiration.
"Cap'n!" Gibbs exclaimed when Jack came aboard.
Jack turned to face him. "Where's Barboozer?"
"Cap'n?" Gibbs fended off a clout from Jack. "Beggin' yer pardon, Cap'n. I slip o' the tongue. Where were you?"
Captain Jack Sparrow smiled. "I can't say Master Gibbs, you would think I was messed in the head if I told you. Let's just note that I'm here now, and this is my ship."
"I didn't doubt that, Jack," Gibbs replied.
Jack held out his hand. "Pistol, Master Gibbs."
"Authoritarian rules, aye?" Gibbs said as he handed it over.
"I might," Jack said. "So? Where is the scraggly-bearded cur face?"
"In your quarters, Cap'n."
"Right." Captain Jack Sparrow stalked off in the direction of his special little place; a place similar to heaven with rum in it. Then again, a dungeon could be turned into paradise with a spot of rum!
The door opened. Jack the monkey screeched as the true Black Pearl captain came in.
"Hello, Hector!" A pistol was pointed at Barbossa's black heart.
Barbossa smiled. "Oh, it's the whelp who thinks my ship is his."
"It's my ship!" The pistol clicked, and that was all.
The former first mate raised an eyebrow.
"Wet powder. My bad!" Jack raised Gibbs's gun. "Now that's better!"
"I don't suppose that one works either."
"To be sure, I don't really know. Let's just see, she we?" Jack aimed the pistol at the monkey and fired.
The monkey screeched and flopped off of the deck.
Jack smiled. "I think it works quite well, don't you?" Then he waved towards Barbossa. "You know where this is headed. Unless you want your head headed in a different direction. I'll oblige, need be!"
Ragetti and the rest of the crew were slack jawed when they saw their temporary commandant led out on deck at gunpoint.
"Hello mates, Merry Christmas!" Jack smiled. "You know, I've seen this before. Now what was it? Oh, I remember. When you mutinied against me. Only this isn't mutiny, it's expulsion!"
Barbossa turned to face Jack. "If you're going to do that Jack, where be the dingy?"
Several crewmembers moved to get one, but Jack fired the pistol, and they moved back to their former positions. "That doesn't sound right, I didn't get a dinghy! You're going to swim."
Jack's crew started to catch on to where he was heading with the venture and grinned wickedly. This sort of entertainment was welcome, the kind that was at the expense of someone else.
Barbossa looked at Jack like he was the devil's helper. "Are you mad?"
"Yes," Jack smiled, "I am. And that's just me. As for you..." He turned towards the rest of the crew, "You're on half rations the lot of you. I think you know why."
In the mood their reclaimed Captain was in, the crew wasn't willing to risk carping about it. And Gibbs reasoned mentally that if they got their captain intoxicated with rum, he would forget he ever said such cruel words.
Jack motioned Barbossa overboard with a sweep with his hand. "Over ye go, matey," he said mockingly.
The man looked reluctant, so Pintel and Ragetti assisted his departure with a push.
Barbossa bobbed back up to the surface and spluttered. "Damn you Jack Sparrow!"
"Captain, actually." Jack spread his arms wide disarmingly. "Where's the monkey?"
Pintel dragged Jack (meaning the monkey) out on deck. "Can't separate the man an' his pet, can we?"
Captain Jack smiled. "The pet goes overboard. I've had enough of it, that stupid screeching and hairy face."
So it did.
Jack called out to the pair mockingly, "If you dive deep enough, you'll probably find a ship down there. I can't truthfully say you'd come back up tho'."
Gibbs turned to his Captain. "Can I have my pistol back?"
"Sure," Jack said. "After I've shot Barbossa."
"What-
"Stop moving Barbossa and it will be over in a moment-
Jack pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. "No additional shot or anything. Just can't get any co-operation anywhere." He tossed the pistol back to its owner.
Then their attention was turned away from the critters in the water.
"Where is the rum?" Jack's mind was clearly headed for what he most wanted. And no need for a compass either.
"Right this way, Cap'n," said Gibbs craftily.
It was certainly good to be back. After the traumatising play with a mild lip-wetter such as milk, it was like heaven to switch back to the humble tipple. Even port. But preferably rum. You know, and I know and Jack knows a thing or two about it. Rum is good.
TO BE CONTINUED
Barbossa was still alive, but might I say barely. (And unfortunately.)
As was the monkey. The furry beast had clambered up on his master's head, and made things even more difficult for him as he tread water.
"Don't worry Jack, there be another way to get out of this giant puddle, I be sure."
"Hello Hector!"
Barbossa passed out. Why not die right now?
The Tooth Fairy collected the pole-axed man out of the water and opened his mouth. "I hate this man. He doesn't have a single tooth worth taking! Probably because I took the last one..."
Then she noticed the monkey, who had clambered aboard her boat. "Why, hullo Jack! You'd make a nice pet..."
And so, this was how Barbossa's life ended. Friendless, petless, toothless and boatless.
Or it would have been this way if a passing ferryboat hadn't picked him up. Fate was very cruel sometimes.