Cappie’s Girl

A PsychicGenealogy Reading for Vickie R.

“You know, Silhouette, every time Vickie sees a house near water she expresses concerns about the prospect of flooding…” Vickie’s best friend, Valerie asked with empathy, “Would we be able to understand why through a PsychicGenealogy reading?”

“Let’s see!” I was excited to at last be able to do something for this wonderful woman who is always doing for others, including me! And so I asked for protection for this psychic journey and traveled back in time to a dark night in a faraway old-time shipyard. We were on the docks, the wind was kicking up, and there was a crew of men frantically loading their vessel.

The captain was clearly frustrated and concerned. His first mate felt the same way – I saw them exchange many “Are you kidding me?” glances as they urged their men on. The owner of the shipping line had insisted they leave with their cargo that very night despite all indications that a storm was brewing. They had approached the men earlier, “We can stand up to the owner! It’s our lives on the line, not his!” the first mate tried to remind them. However, in the end, everyone except he and the captain voted to take the risk; they wouldn’t get paid if they didn’t deliver this cargo on time, and these men were desperate to be paid and willing to take almost any risk. “We can do this, Cappie!” they tried to assure their captain, “We’ve seen worse!” one crewman scoffed at the first mate. However, none of the bragging made the captain or the first mate feel any better. Every minute ticking down to their time of departure increased their sense of dread.

Then, as if the impending dangerous weather wasn’t enough, a raggedy man carrying a child came running down the dock towards their ship. “Whars the cappen?” he was shouting as he ran, “Whars the cappen?”

“Dear God!” the captain gasped when he recognized the child to be his own nearly four-year-old daughter. “Not again!” He grabbed his girl from the arms of the stranger with one hand and reached for his purse with the other.

“Yer misses says you’ll reward me fer bringin’ the girl to ya, cappen…” the raggedy man stepped back just in case his intentions might be misunderstood. Without a word, the captain gave the man money and he left quickly, quite satisfied.

“Cappie,” the first mate’s voice was choked with emotion, “We have to leave now… it’s no night for a passenger, Cappie, please!” But it was too late, there were no other options. The first mate knew it, the captain knew it, and so did the child.

This was not the first time her mother had become “overwhelmed” by the prospect of caring for the girl alone while her husband was away. This wasn’t the first time the child saw her mother cry, and beg a complete stranger to take the child to her father, always promising a reward because, “He’s a ship’s captain.”

I felt so much emotion as I saw the girl slip her little hand so deftly under the collar of her father’s rough weather jacket. That little hand knew just exactly where to go and how to hang on; it was her spot in his arms, a perfect fit.

He took her below to his cabin and began pulling everything that could fall or break off the walls, and out of the cabinets. He created a nest of pillows and blankets for his little girl and told her, “Things will get rough so you stay here, I’ll be back soon.” He tried to smile but it wasn’t necessary, she was aware it was going to be a rough trip.

Everything up top was ready to go and the men were bouncing back and forth between acting proud and anxious. The first mate’s expression of incredulity was constant; he felt that this was a doomed voyage, as did the captain.

But they shoved off that night just the same and soon things got very stormy. There was no moon, the winds were whipping up, and it was beginning to rain in droves. Cappie went down to check on his daughter and found quite a bit of water rising on the lower deck! He waded through the murky darkness with a lantern and discovered that a piece of machinery had broken loose and cracked a hole in the bulkhead.

He waded back to his daughter and lined an overhead cabinet with the pillows and blankets from her nest on the bed, “Let’s get you up here.” He spoke calmly and with assurance while using his belt to strap her little body to the cabinet’s side hooks, “I’ll be checking on you often.” She remained quite calm as a result. I could feel her complete confidence in her father. If he said he’d be back, she knew he would be back.

But by the time he got topside, things had gone from terrible to tragic; three men had been swept overboard, one was the helmsman, and the first mate was climbing on his stomach to get to the wheelhouse to regain control of their vessel. The captain saw him struggle to stand up to go in through the door. Briefly their eyes met — they both knew all was lost. Then the mast broke free, smashing into the wheelhouse, scraping it and the first mate off the deck, right into the churning black sea. Before the captain had time to react, the ship violently lurched in the opposite direction and he too was swept overboard.

The next scene I saw was mercifully short: the sea was beginning to calm, the sun was beginning to rise, and from beneath the waves I looked up and saw the little girl floating like a doll in her pink and white dress.

Vickie was that little girl.

Iris Colored Dreams...In Your Inbox!

Iris Colored Dreams...In Your Inbox!

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