The Lost Ship!

By Nanette Larsen Dunford

By small and simple things are great things brought to pass (Alma 37:6).

The bump in the freeway wasn’t supposed to be there. At least that was my big brother’s excuse. Andy might have been driving a little too fast, if you ask me.

“I hope Lehi’s ship is tied tight,” I grunted as our truck sailed over the bump.

“No problem, sis,” said Andy.

But just then, Lehi’s ship broke loose and sailed out of the back of our truck.

“Our ship is sunk!” yelled my seven-year-old brother, Tony, who is never without words.

“There goes the main prop for our Primary play,” I moaned to myself.

Cars screeched. I scrunched down between my brothers, waiting for a crash, but it never came. All the screeching tires behind us stopped before running into the prop or each other.

Andy steered our truck to the side of the road. “How could this happen?” he groaned as he stumbled out of the truck. Tony leaped out too. I stayed scrunched in my seat, not wanting to see our once-beautiful ship.

“Wow, will you look at this!” cried Tony. “Lisa, come look.”

I slid out. There, spread over all three lanes of the freeway, was the ship we had lovingly worked on for weeks.

“It isn’t all broken,” said Tony. “Maybe we could put it back together.”

“No way,” I said with a scowl. “The play starts in four hours.”

“I bet there’s a way. If I had a hammer, I could do it,” Tony argued.

Cars were lining up behind Lehi’s ship faster than we lined up for lunch at school. High in the sky, I could see a traffic report helicopter. I could hear a nearby car radio blaring, “I’ve never seen anything like this before, but it looks like an old sailing ship has washed ashore on the west freeway. It’s blocking all northbound lanes.”

Cars were honking. People were leaping out of their cars and marching toward us. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to hide.

A young man in a white uniform was the first to reach us. “It looks like you left your ship behind, too,” he drawled. “I left mine over in the Navy yard. I didn’t think I’d be running into another ship quite so soon.”

“Are you in the Navy?” exclaimed Tony.

“Sure am, son.”

A big man who looked like one of those football players Dad watches on TV ran up beside us. “That thing really went flying. I’m glad it didn’t hit me.” He motioned to Andy. “Look, if you’ll pull your truck right around here, I think a few of us can load it for you.”

Another man was peering dumbfoundedly at the wreckage through his thick glasses. “What is this thing, anyway?”

“It’s Lehi’s ship,” piped up Tony.

Oh no! I thought. I hoped Tony wasn’t going to give his Book of Mormon discourse right here on the freeway.

The young sailor scratched his short-cropped red hair. “Lehi’s ship?” he said thoughtfully. “It seems like I’ve heard of that somewhere before.”

“It’s from the Book of Mormon,” answered Tony.

“That’s it!” The sailor snapped his fingers. “Isn’t he the guy who sailed across the ocean with a bunch of sons who were always fighting?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of how the story goes,” said Tony.

“I knew it!” said the young man. “One of my shipmates told me the whole story. He gave me that book to read.”

I didn’t say a word.

By the time Andy pulled his truck up beside our broken ship, the crowd had heard practically the entire Book of Mormon—both Tony’s version and the sailor’s version.

At least a dozen people crowded around to help hoist the prop back into the truck. Tony bounded into the back of it. “Up this way a little,” he directed.

I stood there with a long face. One man looked down at me as he held the ship. “It’s tough luck about your ship. I heard your play is supposed to start—”

Everyone stopped talking and even moving. Wailing down the other side of the freeway were flashing red and blue lights. Two highway patrol cars crossed the median strip, then swung around to where we were. It was the only way they could reach us. Officers from the cars jumped out. One of them scowled as he approached the group surrounding the ship. He seemed oblivious to the fact that they were holding the biggest section of the ship in midair. “Who owns this truck?” he snapped.

“I do,” Andy said glumly.

I felt a little bit sorry for him.

“Young man, do you know what time of day it is?” asked the officer.

“Yes, sir. It’s rush hour.”

I avoided looking at Andy by watching the officer’s thick mustache twitch up and down as he spoke.

“Do you know that you have traffic backed up for over two miles down the freeway?”

“This is no time for a lecture, Jerry,” said another highway patrolman. “They need help.”

The first officer looked around, then nodded, his scowl lessening. With the help of the highway patrol officers, Lehi’s ship was quickly lifted back into the truck. Everyone, including me, scurried across the lanes, retrieving the rest of the wreckage.

Suddenly a short, wiry man trotted up beside me. “My car is trapped way back there,” he panted. “I just heard on the traffic report that you Mormons were having a big play tonight but that your ship got smashed on the freeway. I just wanted to tell you that I’m a carpenter and, well, maybe I could help. I don’t live too far from your church, and I could get my tools. …”

“That’s very kind,” I said, embarrassed by all the attention. “But we’ve already caused you—”

“I think that would be great!” Tony interrupted.

“Terrific! I’ll come over as soon as I get home.” The carpenter waved as he trotted back to his car.

Finally Andy, Tony, and I climbed back into the truck. Andy turned the key in the ignition. The word Mormon jumped out at us from the radio.

“Those Mormons are supposed to be performing tonight,” said the traffic reporter, “but I think they’ve put on a bigger show this afternoon on the freeway.”

I slunk down in my seat, and Andy groaned. Tony gloated, “Hear that! We’re famous.”

When we turned into the church parking lot, Lehi’s ship was not the only thing trailing close behind us. Car after car turned into the parking lot. The big burly man came. The redheaded sailor came. Even the highway patrol officer with the mustache followed us. The parking lot was filling up with our friends from the freeway. When the carpenter arrived, everyone began hammering as fast as they could.

When it was time for the curtain to go up, Lehi’s ship still wasn’t quite finished. “Don’t worry,” said the sailor. “I wouldn’t want to miss sailing across the ocean with Lehi.” He got up on top and held a big timber in place.

The big burly man and the highway patrol officer steadied both ends of the ship, and the carpenter played a Nephite still at work.

When the play was over and the curtain was coming down, the applause was very loud. I peeked through the curtains. Never had I seen the cultural hall so crowded! People I’d never seen before were lining the walls and peeking through the doorways.

Suddenly someone crawled under the curtain and faced the audience. It was Tony! “Please clap real loud for the people on the freeway. They helped us put Lehi’s ship back together again.”

This time the crowd stood up and clapped for a long time. Tony grinned at me, and I wasn’t even embarrassed.

Afterward, instead of leaving, people rushed up to the stage. “Can you tell me more about that story?” they asked.

I noticed one lady tug on the sleeve of the redheaded sailor. “Do you know where I could get a copy of that book—what’s it called?”

“Why, sure!” exclaimed the sailor. “It’s called the Book of Mormon. It’s wonderful. I happen to be reading it now, myself. Let me tell you more about it.”

“We’d both be glad to tell you all about it,” Tony chimed in.

Illustrated by Dale Kilbourn