The Captain and the Caveman

Caveman lived near the sea from time to time.

He came to the cave to get away from the press of people he found every day. He couldn't live here all the time, but retreated inside when things got too much to handle. It was comfortable and warm. He started bringing a few books here now and again, and on sunny days would sit near the entrance on a rock and devour poetry, prose, and philosophy. It's a world no one could penetrate, although cavers did stop from time to time to explore the inner regions of Caveman's hiding place. If he was there, he wouldn't let them in, despite the fact that not too far from the mouth of the cave were many natural wonders. A stream ran through it on its sojourn to the sea that made earth music like he had never heard before.

It wasn't his cave to keep people out of, and he was always careful to take anything he brought home with him. He really wanted to put a sign on the front of it and let people know they weren't welcome. His attitude when anyone came around, though, made that sign unnecessary and soon passersby who were familiar with the area simply stayed away and looked for other, more inviting caves along the seashore to venture into. "My world, my cave, and I don't want anyone here," reasoned.

One afternoon in spring, Caveman noticed banks of threatening clouds along the southern horizon. He knew a storm was coming; winds that had only been warm and breezy became chilly and blustery and boats that were hugging the shoreline several hundred yards off started to make for the harbor. The rain came in late afternoon, in torrents, waves became unruly and began dashed the rocks relentlessly nearby. Peering through the gloom of the storm, that he noticed a small rowboat heading toward the pier down the shoreline. In fair weather, the harbor and the pier wasn't a problem to get to from the ocean. In this wind and rain, it was impossible. Though Caveman didn't anyone around, he felt a little sorry for the captain of the tiny craft, picked up a lantern, and signalled for the rower to head toward the safety of the cave. The strong arms of the captain had to be just about giving out, thought Caveman. At last he reached the mouth of the cave and Captain tossed anchor overboard, jumped out and waded to the cave entrance.

"I don't have much to offer you," began Caveman with hesitation, "but you're welcome to come in. I've some coffee and you can dry out before continuing on." The Captain beamed his appreciation and the two sat down on rocks near the cave entrance and discussed the storm.

"I have been looking for safe harbor now for a few hours, knowing that bad weather was coming," he began. "Nothing was visible from my boat, but when you shone the light my way, I knew someone cared enough to guide me to shore. If I stayed out there much longer, I'm not sure what would have happened. A guiding light in a storm is a wonderful thing, but you find so few these days."

On and on they talked - of life, of loves, of storms, the sea; Caveman spoke of poetry and great books he had read and took one from his backpack. He handed it to the captain with a smile and told him to take it with him. It was a favorite, but Caveman didn't care. There were others.

Came the night, and the storm's fury became greater. Caveman, sensing himself in the presence of a friend, offered his sleeping bag, meanwhile dozing off in a corner on some blankets he had brought with him the previous day. Not thinking he would sleep a wink, he drifted off quickly to a night of peaceful slumber, waking the next morning just as dawn announced the start of another day. He walked to the entrance of the cave and beheld a cloudless sky. The rain left a lingering fragrance of newness, wildflowers growing near the edge of the water amidst clumps of grass shouted refreshed shades of color. Caveman sat on the rocks and breathed in the moist air and contemplated the events of the past afternoon. Sharing what he had, though not much, had driven desire to remain in the cave away for a while. He wanted to get out, be up and about. His thoughts were interrupted by the captain who was coming out of the cave, ready to depart.

"Going so soon?" asked Caveman.

"Yes, I must be on my way. I've a few miles to cross before I arrive at my cottage down the shore. I want to get yesterday's catch dressed and ready," he replied.

Caveman convinced the captain to stay long enough to share some coffee. He thanked Caveman for hospitality and heart, lumbered to the rowboat, pulled anchor, and gently rowed away on the silent, glassy harbor. In minutes, he had rounded the bend out of sight and the surface of the harbor was again silent. The soft dipping of oars was heard no more.

Caveman had let someone past the entrance of not only his home but his heart. Both had shared their lives, laughter, tales from the sea; tales from the cave. . .

He eventually came away from so much cave dwelling, and remembered the light he had shone across the water to a wayfaring stranger and how he let Captain in - it felt warm and wonderful, and new. Best of all, he wanted to do it again.