Captain Rainbrain and The Tanglevine

by Joseph Perrello
Published June 5, 2005

More than a century had past since Lord Logos first warned Noeman of impending destruction. Those one hundred and twenty years were not easy. Only a handful believed that the vineyardist had been commanded to build a ship.

Lamech, Noeman's father, believed. So did Grandfather Methusha, Supreme Tribal Chief of the Larsian clans and previous Royal Governor of all the tribes of the Urartu Region. Invaluable to the project, both were gone now. Lamech died several years ago. And Methusha, whose life spanned nine hundred and sixty-nine years, passed on only this year.

Shiana, Noeman’s wife, believed too, as did Japhtho, their son. The years brought two other sons, Hamath and Shema. And, eventually, like Japhtho, they took believing wives. So, only eight believers remained.
So very, very few!

But now the ship was ready. Five hundred feet long, its eighty-foot beam supported four decks that reached upward fifty feet. Noeman already had received sailing orders; come the dawn, the passengers would begin embarking. According to Logos, seven pairs of each species of creatures considered ritually pure would board the craft, along with one pair of each impure species.

The fact that only eight persons would be sailing with the creatures wasn't Noeman’s decision. Immediately after receiving the alarm, he had sounded it at a Larsian gathering, convened for him by Methusha. True, his courage almost failed upon realizing how preposterous his words would sound, nonetheless, he gave the warning. Methusha had instructed him to do so, though he sensed his grandson's fear.

Initially, the vinedresser comments were hesitant. It wasn't until he was describing the wondrous appearance of Lord Logos that his fervor kindled. It increased, as he warned of the imminent cataclysmic rains, maintaining that he was enjoined to build a ship as a refuge for any who would believe. After his moving appeal for assistance, the fervency abated; yet, the ensuing hush sparked a hope that some in the gathering had believed him.

The ever ebullient Telmone, Shiana's eldest brother, shattered that hope. His loud prolonged "YEEOW!" impacted with the discretion of a thunderclap. "A truly original practical joke, Noeman!" he bellowed, "What a story!"

Elbowing his way to his mortified brother-in-law, Telmone pounded Noeman’s back. “You were superb! You kept such a straight face, that at first I thought you were serious! How did you keep such a straight face? How did you keep from laughing, Noeman?

“So, you saw Logos! And he wants you to build a ship! We'll help won't we?” he shouted to the others. “But it must be a good-size boat, so that all of us men can fit in it. After it’s finished, we’ll all go fishing! And, it must be sealed very tight, so we won't sink.

“Oh! Oh! And, something else!” he bellowed. Eyebrows lifted and hands waving in mock excitement, he lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, “And, we’ll bring along our fishing poles and our wine jugs, but, we’ll leave our wives and children at home, and take along some of those fun kinds of ladies.”

Telmone made a bawdy gesture, winking as if in connivance, “And you can bet that when we return, they’ll be worn-out kinds of ladies," he concluded.

Inspired by the uproarious laughter that rewarded him, Telmone mimicked surging waves with his fingers. "And, we'll just sail peacefully along!" he chanted in sing-song.

His brother-in-law’s frivolity completely undermined Noeman’s purpose.
The numerous compliments and amiable joshing lavished on him by others for a story well told, totally discredited his solemnity. Even Shiana's taciturn father, Clan Chieftain Hamial, mentioned that he enjoyed the novelty of the joke. It was not until Noeman commenced with the hiring of craftsmen and the purchasing of materials, that the Larsians at last realized he was not joking. And with that realization his esteem among the Larsians evaporated. Up until then, he always was highly respected as Lamech’s successor to the rank of Supreme Chief. Now, however, the Larsians’ respect for him degenerated to an obscene scorn.

Chapter Two

Rumors that Lamech had placed his vast wealth at his son's disposal intensified the problem. Before a conclave of elders, Noeman’s brothers accused him of bilking their father. Wrongfully excluded from the proceedings, Methusha went unheard, while Lamech's attempted defense of his son was arbitrarily rejected. His sentence predetermined, straight away, Noeman was ostracized by the Larsians, as was Shiana.

The Elders demanded that Lamech also withdraw his assistance from Noeman, claiming that the shipbuilding was disgracing the Larsians, and bringing ridicule from other tribes. When Lamech refused, the Elders attempted to enlist Methusha’s intercession.

“My son, Lamech, is no longer a child,” the venerable patriarch informed them, “His holdings are his own, to do with as he wishes. I am the Supreme Chief of Larsia, yet you excluded me from your conclave. You all are aware that the exclusion of the Supreme Chief from any conclave renders that conclave illegal. Neither Lamech nor Noeman have broken the laws of the Larsians. It is you who have done so.

“They have taken nothing from you. They pay those hired to work on their ship a good wage. The materials they use to build the ship, they buy from you, their fellow Larsians. Thus, you profit from what they do, yet you do not complain about this. The money they spend on the ship is their own, to do with as they please and my wealth is mine, to do with as I please.

“They have broken no laws; therefore, your sentence upon them is invalid. You have acted contrary to Larsian law, and it is you who should be punished. In any event, I shall assist in the ship building, as is my legal right.”

A clamor for Methusha's unseating, as well as the ouster of Lamech, swelled from the Elders. Ostracizing Lamech was relatively easy.
However, unseating a Larsian Supreme Tribal Chief was no simple matter.
It had never before been done. Exasperated, the elders postponed the
action until a more suitable occasion.

The Noemans were devastated by the tragic events. Lamech attempted to console them, but it was Shiana who coincidentally lifted the gloom. At long last, emerging from her deep sorrow, she vowed, empathetically, “No matter who rejects me, I shall remain true to Lord Logos! We must do as He has instructed us.

“We cannot force the others to believe that a deluge is coming. And if we continue to do nothing, we also shall be lost. Come, my husband and
children, let us begin the work.” Shiana’s resolve shamed Noeman from
his melancholy, and shortly thereafter, he returned to work.

Eventually, news of the Larsian lunatic, who was building an enormous ship in a vineyard, reached King Hanoch, in distant Hanoch City. His messengers informed him that Noeman was a grandson of Methusha. “He claims that the ship is an omen of a soon coming worldwide flood,” they reported, “The flood is being sent by Logos as retribution for mankind’s rebelliousness.”

The mention of Methusha sent Hanoch into a fury! In a fit of rage, froth forming on both sides of his lips, he ranted, “I should have known that my enemy, Methusha, is involved in this madness of conspiracy! He conspired against my father, and now he conspires against me!”

Decades before, Supreme Chief Methusha strongly opposed the apostasy of Hanoch’s father, known as “Tyrant Kajan.” Tyrant Kajan ridiculed when Methusha predicted his assassination by those whom he trusted most.
Nevertheless, shortly thereafter, he was murdered by his own elite body guards, The Guardians of the Golden Throne. Young Hanoch was the chief suspect as instigator in the assassination. Though he denied any connection to his father’s death, all attempts to scotch the rumors of his involvement were futile. The incredible accuracy of Methusha’s uncanny prediction terrified Hanoch. Fearing to arrest and execute the Supreme Chief, he opted to wait before attempting to depose Methusha from the governorship of Urartu,

Most Larsians were swollen with pride that, from among the many tribes of Urartu, it was their Chief who was the Royal Governor of the region.
Though they faulted his uncompromising stand for Logos, they remained
respectful. That respect was maintained until Methusha’s decision to
abet Noeman’s activities. For the Larsians, that was the final stroke.
It ultimately triggered the transfer of their allegiance to the King Hanoch and his god.

Chapter Three

Like his parents before him, King Hanoch followed the cult of the Illuminants, who worshiped the Illuminator Serpent, Lucifin. Illuminants believed that Lucifin - transmogrified as a serpent - had granted infinite knowledge to the First Parents in the Garden Reserve. They claimed to be the sole repositories of this knowledge. In a flagrant act of apostasy from Logos, Hanoch’s father arrogantly promoted the adherents of the cult into the ranks of the highest nobility. Its privileges were second only to those of the throne. Lucifin's temples, with their priestess prostitutes and sacrifices of male infants, proliferated throughout Terra. Noeman’s insistent calls for a return to Lord Logos infuriated King Hanoch. Jealous for his Illuminants, and Methusha notwithstanding, he issued a decree for a disruption of the shipbuilding.

In taunting derision of Noeman, King Hanoch referred to him as, "Captain Rainbrain." Scoffing at the vineyard location of Noeman’s ship-building, he poured scorn on Noeman’s vessel, referring to it as, "The Tanglevine." His decree brought constant harassment to the "harebrained" shipbuilders. Sabotage, the hurling of rock, and the fear of vicious ambushes frequently kept the craftsmen away. And it was only the protection of Logos that shielded the Noemans.

The term, "Captain Rainbrain" became synonymous with lunacy.
Commissioned by the Illuminants, propagandists disseminated rumors that Noeman was insane. He had also driven his father and grandfather insane by his sorcery and prognostications of impending judgment. His madness was depriving his unfortunate brothers of their lawful inheritance.

Even the children sang of Rainbrain and The Tanglevine! While skipping and hopping, they often chanted: "Ho, Captain Rainbrain, when will you sail? Sail on The Tanglevine; tell us your tale. When will the rains come? Please, tell us do. Or, was it your grape-wine that told you 'tis true?"

Noeman's opposition by the throne absolutely terrified his kin. To prove their loyalty to the King, they joined the abusers. Toward the end, however, Hanoch overreached himself. He commanded Uris, Supreme Chief of the Dakar tribe and Governor of Urartu, to burn The Tanglevine. With devastating consequences!
*****

Uris had been a close friend of Methusha, until the Larsian Chief fell out of favor with the throne. On several occasions, the Dakarite Supreme Chief had witnessed Methusha’s supernatural powers. Believing that Noeman was gifted with similar powers, the double risk of confronting both Methusa and Noeman intimidated him. He was reluctant to oppose them.

Warned by his Larsian predecessor that any attempt to destroy the ship bore dire consequences, for months, Uris vacillated. Only a threat by Hanoch to remove him from office forced his hand. The fateful morning drew an enormous crowd to witness the event. Spearheaded by the militia, banners unfurled, the governor's impressive procession pushed through.
Reclined on canopied litters borne by servants, Uris, his family and friends, his clan Chieftains and their kin, together with other notables, moved pompously toward the ship. All were dressed in their finest garments; all but Uris were expecting monumental entertainment.

When the procession arrived within earshot of the ship, Uris shouted, "Descend the ship, Noeman! I can delay no longer!"

"Why would you inflict premature grief on the Dakarites, Supreme Chief Uris?" Noeman responded. "You were warned by your friend, Methusha! Go quickly; leave this place!"

Uris again hesitated. Then, the builders noticed a stranger attired in royal colors. Pointing toward the ship, he seemed to be having a heated exchange with Uris. "The King's emissary!" exclaimed Japhtho.

The stranger's arguments apparently prevailed, for Uris motioned his militia forward. Bearing torches and bundles of kindling, it advanced only a few feet when disaster, striking in the guise of a gaping fissure, swallowed the entire screaming procession! The phenomenon was only fleeting. But, when the abyss closed behind the fleeing spectators, the shipbuilders were alone! And, through the clearing smoke, a long narrow fault-line was noticeable. Tracking it, a few sundry articles indicated that the procession had ever existed!

No more attempts were made against The Tanglevine or its crew. The temporary absence of the crowds gave a respite from the hecklers.
Gradually, though, they returned. However, the stone throwing and sabotage ceased entirely, encouraging the craftsmen to return to work.

Chapter Four

Doomsday dawned! Near the massive ramp of The Tanglevine, The Eight stood waiting for the passengers. At first, the ascending light revealed nothing unusual and, from nearby, mocking titters emanated from lurking shadows. Having long heard of an impending doomsday, now that it was presumed to have arrived, spectators expected some sport.

"Ho! Captain Rainbrain!" hooted one of the shadows. "We heard you're waiting for animals! I have some rats!"

With the subsiding of the derisive laughter, another dark shadow protested, "No; not rats! They’ll make holes in the side! They’ll sink the Tanglevine!"

"That's right!" a third shadow agreed.

"Hey! Rainbrain!” another shadow taunted, “You should take more snakes, and lots of cats, too! You don't want rats to sink The Tanglevine, do you?"

The mocking of the shadows accelerated, accompanied by barking, moos, meows, and other animal imitations. Oblivious to the taunts, The Eight gave attention to the brightening sky and the forest rims.

The birds arrived first! From every direction, single pairs and flocks of fourteen, winged their way to The Tanglevine! The smaller birds entered immediately. The larger ones circled the craft, waiting their turn. Throughout their maneuvers, the avian passengers maintained an eerie silence. And the shadows, their mortality unveiled by morning light, no longer jeered!

As the incoming flights continued, Shiana indicated the bordering forest. At its edge, a variety of creatures paused. Some sniffed the wind; others seemingly estimated the distance to the vessel. Then, the boldest ventured forward, followed by the more timid, until eventually, from all edges of the wilds they came, joined by domesticated animals from towns and farms. Crawling creatures and hopping ones, moved with those that slithered in the dust. Tree swingers ambulated with imprecision the strangeness of the fields, but still they came!

Uttering no sounds, giants ambled beside Lilliputians. Hunters strolled alongside prey, as though a truce pacified their enmity. Directed by an unseen guide, all embarked the ship. And, at last, with the entrance of the final pair of creatures, the inventory was concluded.

Conclusion

In the afternoon brightness, Noeman scanned the silent spectators. They appeared dumfounded, apprehensive. Speaking loudly, for all to hear, he declared, "You haven't believed my words, now believe your eyes. Until the ramp rises, you may enter the ship. There is still time to enter.
You need only step forward and give your allegiance to Logos. Come now."

But no one moved.

“Even this does not convince you?" marveled Noeman.

A woman tugged at the hand of her companion, but he pulled her back.
Noticing this, Noeman extended a hand to her, stating, "All must make their own decision. If he refuses, you must make your own choice to
enter.” Instead, she pressed closer to her companion.

Now, several of Shiana's family crowded forward. Appearing hard-faced, Telmone stood among them, accompanied by his sister, Loina, who was in tears. She seemed to be imploring her husband, Serug. Hopefully, Noeman approached them. "Come; please enter," he earnestly implored.

"Let's go in, Serug," Loina begged, "Please! Let's take the children and go in!"

Serug shouted, his voice strident with bravado, "Has Rainbrain's spells driven you mad, too? Go without me and the children, if you will! But do not think to return to us, if you do!"

Noeman extended a hand to Loina. "Please come, Loina," he begged.

Weeping, she shook her head. "No, I will not leave them behind."

Telmone listened attentively during the exchange. Now, at Loina’s refusal, he gave Noeman a brutal backward shove. “Get away from her, Rainbrain!” he snarled, “Let her be; she wants no part in your insanity.”

So hard was the push, that Noeman stumbled and fell, breaking the hush of the pendulous crowd. Unshackled from its vacillation, it began chanting, "Rainbrain! Rainbrain! Rainbrain!"

Noeman picked himself up and headed toward The Tanglevine, fighting back his own tears. As he walked, chants of ridicule cadenced his strides.
"Rainbrain! Rainbrain! Rainbrain!"

Abruptly, the chanting ceased. Standing at the base of the ramp was a resplendent being. Pointing toward the hatch, Logos said, simply, "Come, Noeman; it is time to enter."

Slowly, The Eight mounted the ramp. After the others entered, Noeman wistfully lingered near the entrance for a moment. He cast a longing glance toward his kinfolk. Then after a final gesture of parting, he turned and disappeared into the vessel.

The spectators, their fear now intensifying to utter terror, saw the glorious figure again lift an arm toward The Tanglevine. On protesting hinges, seemingly of its own volition, the ramp gradually lifted toward the spacious opening in the hull. Inserting itself fully, it sealed The Tanglevine shut.

Next, the radiant figure pointed skyward and vanished. At first, a foreboding stillness engulfed the landscape. Outside the ship, not a sound was heard. Even the breezes ceased teasing the leaves. In the ominous quiet, the only movement noticeable was the slow passing of a tiny cloud across the face of the sun. Without preamble, Terra shivered. Then, earsplitting crescendos of thunder vanquished nature's horrified hush. Instantly, the cloud enlarged into multiple layers of rolling blackness. Surrendering unconditionally to the thickening suffusion, the sun succumbed to the black shroud.

Broad, dazzling streaks of lightning relentlessly knifed the tortured sky, as Terra's shivers escalated to rolling tremors. From widening fissures, newborn fountains towered upward, as if endeavoring to return the waters to their ancient cradles in the clouds.

Launched to the raging cacophony of this chaotic overture, The Tanglevine charted its course toward a new genesis. Those too practical to board her, who had sensibly rejected the preposterous ravings of her lunatic captain, now felt the first heavy drops of liquid vengeance.

In the violent flashes of lightning, they could still see The Tanglevine. They believed now. They desired to board her, but the hatch was sealed. Always so accessible before the waters began to gather, it could not be re-opened until they receded.

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