Chapter 13

Throughout those cheerless winter days the Big Fisherman learned that whilst it was highly exciting to be a friend and follower of Jesus when vast crowds of staring, sweating, importunate people trampled one another for better standing-ground to see and hear the Carpenter, it was very dull business when practised privately in the rain.

It seemed that every circumstance of Simon’s experience during this bleak period was part of a diabolical conspiracy to break down his faith and fortitude.

To begin with, nobody could remember such a protracted siege of bad weather. It rained relentlessly, a cold, marrow-chilling rain that soaked the heaviest garments and leaked through into the soul. The oldsters, who were not required to go out into it very much, counselled patience. ‘This abundance of rain,’ they said, ‘will bless our land next summer.’ And so it would—and did; but it was tiresome while it lasted.

As for the fishing, it was utterly profitless. Of course no one ever expected much of a catch on a stormy day, but it at least provided subsistence and kept the men out of mischief. Ordinarily the dismal weather had but little effect upon the spirits of Simon’s fleet. The fishermen joked about their discomforts. This season it was different. The fishing wasn’t worth doing. The men were restless, sullen, and touchy.

Simon, who was never one to rush in ahead of everybody else to take the blame for something that had gone amiss, knew who was responsible for this unhappy state of affairs and knew that his men knew that he knew…No—it wasn’t the Big Fisherman’s fault if it rained all day and all night every day and every night, nor could it be held against him that the perch wouldn’t rise; but the sour and surly attitude of his dispirited crews was because of the skipper’s indifference. He had lost all interest in his business. And if he didn’t care, why should they?

Simon sat alone and had little to say. His heart was heavy. Ever since he had met Jesus he had been increasingly inattentive to his trade. It was perhaps inevitable that this should have happened. Once he had taken his place beside the Master as his foremost friend and assistant, calmly directing an excitable throng of awe-stricken people and competently keeping order among frantic suppliants, the old routines of mending nets and splicing ropes and sluicing the slimy decks of his fishing-smacks had lost their hold on his imagination; and no longer had he any pride in his fleet or any joy.

The worst thing about it was the quite apparent disaffection of the men and boys whose love and loyalty had meant so much to him. It was plain to see that their devotion to him was in serious disrepair. As the Big Fisherman, as the noisy, quick-tempered, profane, sacrilegious, hard-hitting Big Fisherman, they had idolized him. Now that he had been captivated by the soft-spoken Jesus, Simon was no longer their hero.

Nor was this the only cause of his dejection.