Late Night Rescue

A few years back when the island camp was still in use, Uncle Byron called me around midnight one night.  He was out with a group of men on an all night fishing trip.  He said, "Come to Algodões quick!  A man needs to go to the hospital."  He didn't have much time to talk and it was very hard to hear with the wind and waves.  But I got ready to go.

All the boys were in bed already.  I debated as to what to do with them.  I decided to wake up William and tell him that I was leaving just so that if anyone woke up they wouldn't be scared thinking I had disappeared.  Then I got dressed and went out to the car.  I noticed my neighbor was still up with a light on.  So I clapped at her door and told her what was going on.  That way if she heard loud screaming children she could come over and see what was what.  I would have been better off to have just locked the door and left Good Ol' Blackie dog guarding the house!

My neighbor decided it was horrid for me to drive to Algodões alone in the middle of the night.  I was okay with it.  I knew exactly where it was.  You see, I had been there about two weeks before - after getting lost  - so I knew very well how to get there.  Little villages around Sobradinho usually have no signs to show you where to turn.  This place was a fishing village where sometimes the camp boat would go in for a fast delivery of supplies during a retreat.  Several weeks before this late night run, Uncle Byron had called me to meet him in Algodões to bring a part that he needed on the island.  I went in a hurry but turned off the highway too soon.  Also I should add that there are two villages called Algodões - one is called New and one is called Old and that I didn't know that.  When the road I took didn't seem quite right, I stopped to ask an old farmer where to go.  Since I was on the road to one of the Algodões, he figured that was the one I wanted, and I didn't know any better to say New or Old.  So he said, Just keep going. You can't miss it.

I arrived at the end of the road only to see a place I had never been.  I asked a walker-by the name of the place - Algodões, the man said.  Hmm?  When I looked puzzled, the man said, Old Algodões.  Did you want the new one?  More bewilderment.  About then Uncle Byron called and miraculously I had a signal on the phone. He said, Where are you?  Ahh, well?  Algodões Velho.  But I'll be to the other in a jiffy.  Hold on!

I asked the old passer-by what was the fastest was to get to the other village of the same name.  He said, I could take a short cut but I would have to open one gate along the way.  He took his time to explain it all and off I went to the right place.

Back to the rescue mission story...

My neighbor said I just should drive alone.  So she called a man neighbor to come and go with me.  Oh dear.  I didn't want to take one man because I didn't think it would look good to pick up one man in the middle of the night.  So she told her friend to bring some friends.  Things just got worse and worse but off I went to find the house of her friend.  When I got there, he was still up - he and his friends were finishing up a little party - a drinking party. Yup, they were all drunk as skunks!  And they all jumped right in my car before I could say - STOP!  Forget this!

Now the only thing to do was just hurry up to the right Algodões.  I hurried on down the road while the three men sang songs and made up wild stories about fishing accidents.  Somehow we arrived and found the boat and got the man in the car and a friend of his.  The man who needed rescuing had a part of his finger bitten off by a piranha!

So now I had five men, three slightly drunk - hard to explain to the men from the retreat, one a deacon from one of the churches, and one moaning in pain.  And off we went back to town - moaning and singing and story telling.  One of the drunks asked if he should drive.  I was glad to say, No, I'm fine. I'll keep driving.

We got back to town and I dropped off the nice drunks - now a little more sober.  I took the deacon and the hurt man to their parked car at the lake side.  And I went home to crawl back into my bed.

My neighbor heard me and came out to ask me how it had all gone. I graciously thanked her for her kindness but left out the singing and story telling and moaning....

I couldn't find any photos on this computer of that fishing trip but I did find this one from another fishing trip on the big camp boat.  It's when Dalton caught one of the biggest piranhas ever of any of the men's fishing retreats.  Uncle Tim taught all my boys the proper way to catch and get a piranha off your hook, by the way.

 

To the little nephews - Yes, sometimes missionaries have to do some crazy things.  I hope your father can explain what a drunk is without too much confusion.  Much love, Aunt Michele.