Saved by a Laughing Parrot on the Ship Destiny's Dreams

The books waited on their shelves to tell their stories to the next person.

They were in the Biblioteca in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on Guanabara Bay, the western coast of South America, in the 1800s.

Ten year old Marco walked the aisles and set the returned books back on their home shelves. 

It was another serene day with his family of books, who were alive with adventures, mysteries, and wisdom.

The words from the story he was reading last night floated through Marco’s mind.

“Square white sails filled with wind, the ship flew over the waves, and the boy captain stood near the mast.”

Marco pictured himself as that boy captain.

He did not remember his life before he came to live inside the library in Rio De Janeiro.

The Biblioteca was his home.

The books were his family.

He had a best friend there, too.

One day a small grey parrot peered at him from between books on a shelf. Marcos thought the bird must have been abandoned there too. 

The bright eyes looked into Marco’s own eyes with an unwavering gaze. Marco was entranced by the dark orbs surrounded by pale color. It was like Marcos fell under a spell.

Then the bird hopped onto his arm. Marcos stroked the top of its head.

Who knew the feathers were so soft.

Marco named the parrot Bonita. She became his best friend.

Adopted by the bird, and surrounded by his family of books, Marcos felt at home.

His earliest memories were of waking up in a corner with an old woven blanket wrapped around him and hearing voices.

“What do we have here?” The tall, slender figure of the woman who was the head librarian spoke. 

“You must be hungry. Follow me child.” Her voice was kind. She led him to her office and gave him some food. Then she gave him small tasks in the Biblioteca to perform.

That night she let him return to his cozy corner and gave him a pile of soft blankets. The days passed like this and turned into weeks and months.

The librarian read stories to Marco and other children during the afternoons. Then she taught him about letters, words, and sentences.

The stories of ships and the sea were his favorites. His mind was full of these images.

Years went by. Bonita the parrot learned to copy people’s voices and the sounds of things like pages flipping.

In his time off, Marco strolled to the harbor with Bonita on top of his shoulder or his head, and they became a familiar sight there. 

It was a quiet life until one day. When Marco walked to the harbor with Bonita she suddenly took off, flying over to land on a clipper ship in the harbor. 

Another parrot, larger and wearing blue, red, and yellow feathers, stepped along the rigging toward Bonita. The two birds bobbed their heads and made soft murmuring sounds, then each accepted the other.

“I see your parrot has made a new friend.” The booming voice came from a tall man, with mustache, beard, and a peaked cap with a brim.

“Captain Alfonse here,” he said.

Marco held his hand out and they shook. “I’m Marco. This is my parrot, Bonita.”

“And this is Foresta,” said the captain, pointing to the other bird.

“Where are you from, young Marco?”

“I help take care of the books at Rio de Janeiro library, the Biblioteca.”

“Well, young man, we have a library too Would you like to see it?”

A huge smile and wide eyes showed on Marco’s face.

“Come this way.” The captain’s waved.

Marco and Bonita spent the day exploring the library and following the captain around the ship.

“I could use someone to take care of the ship’s library, teach reading, and record events into our ship’s journal.”

The captain’s words made Marco shiver with excitement. But then he thought of his safe, secure place at the Biblioteca.

What did he know about this captain and his ship?

When they parted, Marco promised to visit again. He began to go to the ship every day after work.

Then one day the Captain said, “We’re leaving tomorrow, boy. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come with us?”

“Thank you. But I will remain at the Biblioteca.” Marco heard himself speaking and felt a sinking feeling.

He returned to the little corner of the library where his books and blankets waited for him. Bonita seemed to feel his mood, and she did not speak or imitate sounds on the way back.

Marco awoke in the dark early the next morning. A painful tightness gripped his chest.

Words tossed in his mind like stormy seas.

“The Destiny’s Dreams is leaving today. With Captain Alfonse. And the ship library. The ship’s journals and log too.”

Like a sleepwalker, Marco gathered his few belongings and wrote a heartfelt letter for the head librarian to express his gratitude, and to say goodby. Someday he would return.

At the harbor, Captain saw a grey parrot sitting high on top of someone’s head who was coming through the crowd of passengers. His eyes felt wet. The boy with the heart of the seafaring life was coming toward the ship. Alfonse knew his instincts had been correct.

Bonita picked up on Marco’s happy mood, and exploded with her favorite sound.

“Hahahaha.”

“’Welcome aboard, mate.” Captain Alfonse greeted Marco warmly.

“So glad you decided to come with us.”

The rest of the morning went by with sailors climbing up the wood steps sticking out of the three masts, and unfurling the reefed sails from their booms. 

The white squares of oiled canvas filled the sky above the deck like fluffy clouds. A brisk wind came up in the early afternoon, and the Destiny’s Dreams pulled away from the wharf.

But coming over the horizon of the open sea was a darkness moving toward them fast.

“Monsoon squall approaching, Captain,” said Edelberto, the navigator, squinting through his telescope.

On the deck the visiting astronomers set up their powerful telescope on its tripod.

“Captain. You need to see this.” The astronomer’s voice was low but urgent.

“I expect it is a short squall. It could be over in only minutes.” The captain’s voice was calm.

The black sky and dark wall came toward them. The waves in front of it churned and were the color of midnight with white wave caps like stars.

“This one looks bad.” Adelberto’s voice was worried.

“Put out the wooden water barrels. We can use fresh storm water," said Alfonse.

He was determined to make use of the opportunity. “Lash the barrels together.”

The sailors rolled the barrels across the deck and began using thick rope to tie them.

“I’ll help.” Marco came out of the ship’s library. Bonita’s claws were tightly wrapped around the cloth of his shirt. They went everywhere together.

The daytime light disappeared, and they were swallowed up in the dark monsoon squall as if they sailed into a cave.

Marco slipped on the deck, grabbed the rope to the rain barrels lashed together, and clung to it with all his strength.

The wind hit the ship’s sails with a solid blow. The hull leaned far over to the side, almost capsizing. The railing with the water barrels and Marco went beneath the waves.

The cold ocean swept over the rail and took the water barrels and Marcos with it.

He gasped. His fingers froze onto the ropes. His body swirled and spun through the water. Through it all something sharp pierced his skin on the shoulder. It was Bonita’s claws.

Marco’s head popped up above the water. He still held the rope of the barrels. His legs pumped and he climbed on top of the barrels.

Then he and Bonita were floating in a black fog on a raft made of the barrels.

He tried to call for help but his voice would only croak. Salty ocean water hurt his throat. Bonita crawled up on top of his head.

Marcos grabbed some more of the barrel’s ropes, lashed them together more tightly, and stretched out on top of them.

In only minutes the squall was past, but the fog remained. It was so thick Marcos could only see a few feet away.

Where was he? His dreams of going to sea had only just begun to be fulfilled. Was this the price? Was he paying for it with his life?

Marcos pictured his safe, cozy corner in the library with his soft, dry blankets.

He felt so tired after battling the sea and the wind of the squall. Marcos collapsed on the barrels floating in the ocean. His eyes closed. Bonita came and sat on his chest near his neck, her beak almost touching his nose, her eyes on him without moving.

The ring of a fog bell came through the clouds of fog over the water of the bay. Marco awoke and realized he was lying in wet clothes on the wood barrels lashed together. He held his breath. 

“What’s that?” Marcos whispered.

But the small grey parrot standing on Marco’s chest heard. Bonita leaned into his face.

“What’s that?...What’s that?” She perfectly copied Marco’s voice and whispered words. Her active mind liked new games like this.

Then she made some random sounds, including her favorite. It started softly and grew louder till it penetrated the fog.

“HahahahahHAHAHA.”

There it was again. A fog bell ringing through the walls of cotton around them.

Too weak to holler, Marco whispered to the round eyes of Bonita peering into his face.

 “Someone’s coming. Heeeelp.” But Marco’s voice could barely carry ten feet.

How long had he been floating on the raft of barrels? Was it only hours or days since he was swept overboard in the monsoon squall?

Bonita cocked her head and rubbed her soft feathers against Marco’s cheek.

Then she jumped up and down on Marco’s chest. Next she mimicked the sound of a brass clapper hitting the bell sides.

“Bong..bong...bong. Ha. Screech."

Bonita’s voice sent a copy of the bell ringing out through the white world. Nothing was visible through the fog, but the sound echoed for a long way.

Bonita bobbed her head with each bell sound.

She raised the feather crest on top of her head, ruffled her wing feathers, and did a two step dance with her clawed feet.

Then she followed her dance proudly with her best ear-splitting squawk and screech. Bonita liked this new game.

“If anyone is out there, I know they will certainly hear that.” Marco spoke to the bird.

Bonita picked up on the boy’s words and spoke in Marco’s voice and tone.

“Anyone out there. Squawk. Screech."

“Hahahahah.”

Hundreds of yards away from Marco and Bonita, Captain Alfonse of the clipper ship Destiny’s Dreams was out in the swirling mists in a surfboat with sailors looking for Marco. Sounds disturbed the silent fog.

Bonita squawked and started talking loudly. “Hear that…hear that…Bong, bong, bong. Hahaha."

Captain Alfonse did hear it and froze.

“Someone is hollering and ringing a fog bell," he said. The sailors rowing his surfboat stopped and listened.

“Go this way,” one of them said.

“No, that’s not it. The fog is playing tricks on us.” Another sailor spoke and shook his head.

The sailors on the surfboat peered into the white wall billowing around them. They kept discussing Marco.

“Good thing Marco grabbed those ropes to the rain barrels when he was swept overboard.”

“Otherwise, he would be lost, gone for good.”

“He must be floating somewhere on those wood barrels.”

“Keep searching. Don’t give up hope.”

While Captain Alfonse kept searching another vessel was in the nearby bay too.

In the waters near Rio de Janeiro not all of the ships were friendly.

A ship without an insignia flag silently moved in the barely perceptible breaths of air pushing it’s sails through the fog. A captain stood next to a carved wooden bow sprit in the shape of a half-human and half-fish leaping out of the water.

“Get the rest of that new shipment from Rio hidden below the deck.”

The words came through the captain’s black colored beard. It was woven into multiple braids tied with narrow rags.

“Get the men ready,” he said. The bay authority knows something is missing. Their ships will be looking for smugglers .”

An eerie sound came through the fog.

“Bong. Bong. Bong. Hahaha. Screech."

“Listen. There is someone out there." The captain’s first mate spoke. There was no way he could know it was a small, grey parakeet imitating fog bells.

The captain murmured to the mate, who hurried to the wheelhouse.

“Quick, the port authorities are after us,” he said. "Spin the wheel. We need to turn and outrun them.”

But the light breaths of air were barely strong enough to cause the ship to drift a little.

Meanwhile, a little distance away from the smuggler’s ship, Marco sat up on the raft.

Did he hear a ship out there somewhere?

“What’s that?”

He knew the parrot might copy what he said. But it was comforting to hear a voice, even his own.

“What’s that….bong, bong, bong….screech, SCREECH. Haha.""

In the fog a hundred yards away, the smuggler’s ship captain dropped his mouth open.

“What is that unearthly sound?”

“Ghosts. They know what we have done.”

“Over there. Following us.”

A sailor gasped and pointed into the rolling masses of fog walls. The crew looked over with horror.

The fog seemed to take shape and their imaginations saw things that were not really there.

“Don’t look at that. We are getting out of here. “ The smuggler’s ship captain put the sailors to work and the boat managed to get underway and leave the area.

 A quarter mile away, Captain Alfonse and his sailors kept rowing and pausing to listen.

“We’ll find him. I know we will.”

Alfonse was determined. He pictured the elfin face of the skinny boy. An image of the boy’s eyes looking directly into Alfonse’s eyes seemed to appear in front of Alfonse.

“I am sure he is out here. I know it.” At his tone of voice the sailors looked at Alfonse. They raised their eyebrows and exchanged glances.

Out in the fog, Marco’s raft hit something in the water and caught on it. The boy pictured the charts of the bay on the ship Destiny’s Dreams.

Guanabara Bay had over 100 small islands. The bay was around 20 miles across at the widest point.

Then he heard the sound of oars. A mossy rowboat with an old man, who had a beard full of knots and tangles that fell almost to his knees, emerged from the fog near the boy’s raft.

“I thought I heard something out here.” The man’s voice was raspy and his face was lined and weathered.

“I just need to get back to shore.” Marco was hoarse but he managed to speak.

“Climb in then.” The man motioned with an arm and Marco stiffly moved and fell into the mossy rowboat.

He huddled there while the man rowed. After a while they approached a partly sunken ship with strings of green seaweed hanging from it. The wood of the ship was splintered, rotten and falling apart.

The man pulled his long beard out of the way, tossed it over his shoulder, and tied the rowboat to the half sunken vessel. They climbed out.

When they entered one of the vessel’s rooms, Marco was surprised to see the decayed elegance of a once prosperous wooden ship.

He watched his rescuer. Then he weakly walked around the part of the vessel that was still above the water.

Bonita flew off his shoulder and sat on the rotting rigging.

She fluffed her feathers, bobbed her head up and down, hollered in her loudest parrot squawks, then imitated the fog bells.

“Bong… Booooonnnng….BOOOONNNNG. Haha."

Bonita did not like this ship. Something was wrong.

The old man went down a hallway with a big key and locked some of the rooms. When the ship was smuggling goods she was fast and outran the authorities. But one day when her captain slept the crew failed to pay attention and she wrecked on the rocks near shore.

Out in the fog, Captain Alfonse and his crew in the rowboat were still searching for Marco and the raft of barrels.

“I hear a fog bell,” said one of the crew.

“Or the imitation of one,” said Alfonse.

“Could that be Bonita?” Another sailor spoke.

They rowed toward the sounds. The foggy shape of the wrecked, half-sunken ship appeared.

“Bonita.” The sailors called out. “Marco.”

The little grey parrot screeched. Marco came out onto the deck.

Bonita’s voice echoed through the fog.

“Hahahahah.”

“Captain!” Marco’s body sagged with relief.

The rowboat came closer and the sailors lifted Marco into it. Bonita flew over to grasp his shirt. She rubbed her head agains his neck and face.

“Congratulations, Marco," said Captain Alfonse. "You are a real sailor now. It is not everyone who could have survived that.”

The other sailors cheered and patted him on the back. A warmth grew inside of Marco and his eyes were shining with something wet.

“A real sailor,” repeated Bonita.

“You have paid the price. Survived the storm. You are one of us now. A Destiny’s Dreams member.”

The Captain’s voice was proud.

Later that afternoon, the sky cleared with the strongest blue Marco had ever seen.

The crew surrounded him and held a celebration.

After dark, Marco went into the library with Bonita and began to write.

“It is everything I ever wanted. I paid the price. It is worth the risk.”

He read it out loud.

Bonita imitated his voice.

“Worth the risk.”

Then, "Hahahaha."