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Show 31, Jeffries, Islamorada [Section 2] for a Billy Sunday sermon as the prerequisite to getting in some fellowship, and, more satisfyingly, a few whacks in one of the Games of Life. There was the clergy sticker on the lone car in the lot, and Dory went silently down the right aisle of the kirk, wondering if it was time to trouble the young man. There were murals, a backdrop, a theatrical set that they'd done about the ocean, as for some sort of a pageant, and just when Dory was considering whether to clear his throat or to tap the fellow on the shoulder, so as to only half-frighten him, the parson abruptly scuttled hand over hand up a rope ladder into the pulpit, and began to adjust a sounding board, this device camouflaged in nets, sea hares, and scallops, the whole perched tenuously where volunteer carpenters had masked the stone pulpit to a ship's prow. Long hands, Dory had noticed, the long face of a giant, and the parson continuing some argument with himself perhaps commenced on his march up the chancel: "--Yes and tell me, good captains--" he said to no one that Dory could see, "--with your radar, and your depth-finders, and the noisome power of your twin-screws, wouldn't there be afternoons when the 'Guard's run up a new red flag for the sea folk, and you know you've overstayed your time in the deep, and you long for a neck of land and a seaman's chapel?" |
