The Last Rites - or, How Father Goodman Became The Most Hated Man in America

The SS Fullbody, as a rule, operated on a skeleton crew.

No shortage of able-bodied men would leap at the chance to earn their daily bread in those days. And yet, there were only ten crewmen aboard, not counting the captain – who didn't count for much – on a vessel that called for thirty. The captain was a man of fierce black hair and even fiercer temperament, and, as his crew knew well and his passengers always came to know, he was never found without a bottle close at hand.

The Fullbody was a small cargo liner. The best-known secret of Lake Erie was that it could take any load, with no questions asked – so long as the price was right. Accordingly, the passengers were nearly as motley as the crew.

It was a cold day in March, and the ship had the rare honor to transport the Ableforths, a wealthy family en route to Buffalo. Mr. and Mrs. Ableforth stepped aboard in their fine clothes, looking as though they had smelled something sour; their daughter, a pretty young thing in even finer silk and thread-lace, followed; and Penny, the maid, brought up the rear. Doubtless, the Fulbody had not been their first choice of vessel.

“But we must get to Sarah’s in time for the party! We must,” Mrs. Ableforth had declared with a sigh and a toss of her porcelain doll head, as if there were really no helping it.

Next on the list of passengers was the aptly named Father Goodman, said to be on his way to a parish in Albany, “for a new beginning.” After him came the tobacco merchant Robert McIver, who glared out at the world with suspicion through a tangle of thick eyebrows and beard.

Last to board, and to the displeasure of all, came a tramp, filthy and ghost-thin. His sunken, weathered face drooped with a weary sorrow normally reserved for the very elderly, though his body was young. He said nothing to anyone.

So the stage was set and all the players assembled for the disaster that befell our humble fellowship, on that foggy day when both sky and lake were gray.

The lake was prone to sudden squalls, and this day was no exception. High winds first ruffled the ladies’ skirts and then kicked up waves, licking the side of the boat with angry vigor. They were pitched to and fro like a child’s toy. Then came the rain. They were told it was nothing, not to worry, all was under control – and then the Fullbody began to list.

A general panic broke out, in which the captain was nowhere to be seen – the noble crew assisted the passengers into the lifeboat, which miraculously bounced on the waves but lost its oars in the process.

The SS Fullbody slipped under the waves with a groan and a crack as everyone watched.

Having lost their heads, the company in the boat seemed to find them again, and were now at a loss of what to do. No one dared speak. The sloshing waves rocked them back and forth, as gently as a mother swishing a cradle; the lake wind was a lullaby. Not one could say how much time passed in that little boat, but the sky began to darken.

“Oh, I think it is very likely that we shall die here,” said Mrs. Ableforth, dabbing a handkerchief at the large, round tears that fell from her eyes.

Hearing their fate uttered with such emotion and finality had the effect of hushing the entire group. Tension crept through the crowd, not unlike when a herd of deer is on the verge of making a collective decision to bolt.

“Very well. If we are to die, I intend to do it with a clean breast.” Mr. Ableforth said at last, turning to Father Goodman with dignity. In the way of all true patriarchs, his words inspired the urge to follow and, one by one, the survivors turned their attention towards the priest. “Father. I am a God-fearing man, and, I like to think, a good Christian. Our faith dictates that we should be given a chance to confess our sins for the final time, in preparation for our souls to meet God.” He took a breath.

“I have tried to live righteously, to be a devoted father and husband. I have kept the Sabbath holy and strived to honor God through my words and in my actions. And yet…” He trailed off dramatically. “And yet, every man is born with the sin of Adam, and every man must battle temptation. I have been prideful. I have known wrath; I have felt the cold hand of avarice tear at my heart. I have sinned. May God have mercy upon me.” He bowed his head, his speech complete.

To give credit where credit is due, let it be noted that this was all said without a tremor nor a single drop of sweat on the man’s brow.

The silence was heavy. With all eyes on him, Father Goodman produced a small black book and made the sign of the cross, moving his lips.

The lifeboat had become a confessional.

“What I wouldn’t give for a drink right now,” a sailor was heard to mutter.

“For my part, I would merely feel the sun on my face one last time…” Young Miss Ableforth’s voice came as unexpected and tremulous as a songbird. She looked up at the sky, her little mouth pressed together in resignation. “How very sad to think that our deaths should be so drab and ugly! But I will go next, Papa. I will confess all.”

Young Miss Ableforth – pure, innocent, beautiful Miss Ableforth! – moved to sit very close to the priest. “You will forgive me if I make my confession in private, I’m sure.” She spoke delicately: “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Oh! How the angels in heaven would weep to hear such words from those lips!

She leaned in and whispered to the priest, and his face must have turned very white – or very red perhaps – because Mr. Ableforth gave a start to set the lifeboat to rocking, and Mrs. Ableforth put a gloved hand over her mouth.

The priest cleared his throat and smiled. “I absolve you of your sins, my child.” Then the two of them crossed themselves.

After this exchange, father and daughter alike turned to the matriarch. “What is it?” Mrs. Ableforth said, her fearful gaze darting back and forth. She wrung her hands and stamped her foot. “Oh, very well! If you would have me say it here, in front of all... If you would be so hard-hearted to a woman on her deathbed! Well, what does it matter? We’ll be drowned soon enough!” She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief and composed herself as well as she was able.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned! I have been unfaithful,” she declared, her tears falling freely now. “Not only in my thoughts, but in my words. And oh, in my actions! May God take pity upon my soul.”

To his credit, Mr. Ableforth did not raise his voice. He was that rare breed of man whose solemnity was more terrifying than his temper. “Unfaithful, you say?”

“We must not judge!” She shook her head vehemently, near hysterical. “As good Christians, we must not judge!”

The wrath of God seemed far removed compared to that of the husband, who threatened to set the boat to rocking once again.

With a shaking voice that even he only half-believed, Father Goodman tried to assuage both God and man at once. “Indeed – indeed, my good lady is quite right. For was it not Christ Himself who said that he who is without sin must be first to cast the stone?”

A murmur of assent was heard. Following the example of her betters, Penny, the maid, decided it was her time to come forward. “May I ask God’s forgiveness?” At the endorsement of all, she began her confession quite simply. “I’ve stolen, sir.”

“Surely not from us!” said Mrs. Ableforth, whose nerves were now much improved.

“I’ve kept hatred and bitterness in my heart,” Penny continued.

“Surely not against us!”

“And above all, Father, I ask forgiveness for this.” She turned to Mrs. Ableforth. “Priscilla, you can go to the devil.”

Mrs. Ableforth’s mouth dropped open as if she had been slapped. Silence fell again, in which the ghost of a smile could be imagined upon Mr. Ableforth’s face.

“I see…” Father Goodman spoke slowly, at a loss for words. “My child, it is the lost and wayward sheep who needs the grace of the Shepherd most. Do you repent in your heart of hearts?”

“I do.” She did not.

“Then you have nothing to fear, for all is forgiven. May you enter into the Kingdom of God with the rest of His children.”

The father turned his benevolence upon the vagrant, in high spirits after receiving a grateful smile from Penny.

“And you, sir. Are there any sins that you would like to confess?”

The dirty fellow spoke for the first time since he boarded the ship. “I have nothing to confess before my fellow man that the Lord God Himself does not already know.”

The priest nodded, a bit deflated. He turned next to McIver, but passed him over when he saw the glare in the man’s dark eyes.

The ship’s crew, however, seemed moved by a sudden religious fervor. Their confessions poured forth – drunkenness, sloth, blasphemy, covet, lust, whoring! It went on and on. Father Goodman, his hands outstretched as a conduit of God’s mercy, received and forgave them all.

Miss Ableforth began to cry and threw her arms around her father’s neck. It was growing darker still, as if their useless boat was drifting into the void itself, to pay its dues. The unhappy party sat there with nothing to comfort them but the whistling of the wind and the lapping of waves, peppered with the sobs of the young lady.

Then, McIver coughed. And so, the tobacco merchant’s turn had come at last. He was pale now, in a manner that had nothing to do with seasickness. He licked his lips.

“Very well. If this truly is to be my grave, and you our Charon,” he all but spat at the priest in his rough accent, “then I shall speak.” His hand trembled as he ran it through his beard, and a look of abject misery passed over his stormy face.

“My brother, Ian,” he began shakily, “served in this country’s army. He went west to fight its wars for them, to those bleak and damned lands. Indian raids, dysentery, starvation, drought – he survived them all, when so many others did not. Always was a fighter, my brother. But his mind… his spirit did not come back intact, strong as he was. There’s a limit, you see, to what the mind of a man can take. He took to drinking, and in the night, he would scream out. Horrible things, he saw, the likes of which I will not repeat here in mixed company. And little by little, he slipped into madness. When I went to calm him, he thought I was trying to kill him. His great strength was terrible in those fits of madness, and one night he came at me with a knife. His eyes were blazing with the intent to kill. I shall never forget them.

I had to stop him. I knew I would die then and there if I didn’t stop him. So… I put him down, like a mad dog. With these two hands. My own brother.” As McIver finished his story, his face as grim and gray as the sky itself, he looked upwards. “If there is any forgiveness to be found at the gates of Heaven, let it not be wasted on the likes of me.” He crossed his arms and sat back, his soul relieved of its heavy burden at long last.

By this time, the good father’s prayers had turned to tears, and the women were in a swoon.

“Now,” the priest said, his throat suddenly dry. “Since you all have done so very well as God’s children, and there is no brother of the cloth to offer me sanction, I can only lay my soul bare before you and hope that it will suffice.”  “I – I – the truth is, you see–“ His stammered confession suddenly cut off, his eyes going wide as saucers. His own deliverance emerged from the fog, in the form of the handsome and proud black hull of the coast guard cutter. They were saved!

One might imagine that at this moment, a cry of relief went up in the lifeboat. Instead, the party’s faces turned all shades of ashen and, with the exception of the vagabond, the priest felt eyes like daggers fall upon him from every angle. He was Daniel, in his very own den of lions.  

It so happened that the captain, through divine providence, had taken the dinghy and encountered the coast guard in his flight. He had done the small service of directing them to the general direction of the wreck, and was taken into custody for his trouble.

This harrowing brush with death had had a varied effect on the survivors of the SS Fullbody. Miss Ableforth was married to her sweetheart immediately. Her parents’ marriage continued much as it had. Penny went on to find a more reasonable employer, where she is said to be very happy. Some of the ship’s crew turned pious, and others still took the opposite approach, indulging in the pleasures of the flesh as much as they possibly could while their time on Earth lasted. It is unknown what became of Robert McIver or the nameless drifter.

As for Father Goodman – in a stroke of good fortune for him, and bad for those who might have tried to buy his silence through whatever means they found necessary – there never was a priest by that name found at the parish in Albany, nor in any other parish for that matter. There was, however, a series of newspaper articles about a scandal that had rocked Detroit – a conman had made away with a set of jewelry that was estimated to be valued at $30,000. Rumor has it that he was last seen headed to New York.