The Traveler's Gift: Seven Decisions That Determine Personal Success

  At first, no one moved. They simply stared at him with open mouths. “We’ll have the advantage of moving downhill,” Chamberlain said. “Fix bayonets now. Execute a great right wheel of the entire regiment. Swing the left first.”

  Lieutenant Melcher spoke up. He was confused. “Sir,” he asked, “what’s a great right wheel?” But the colonel had already jumped from the rocks.

  Tozier answered the question. “He means to charge, son. A ‘great right wheel’ is an all-out charge.”

  David watched in awe as Chamberlain drew his sword, leaped up onto the wall again, and screamed, “Bayonets! Bayonets!” Turning, the colonel pointed the sword directly at David and slightly bowed his head. Then he wheeled to face the overwhelming odds and slashed his blade through the air. With a power born of righteousness and fear, the schoolteacher from Maine roared, “Charge! Charge! Charge!” to his men. And they did.

  Tumbling over the wall, the men who were left rose their voices to meet the voice of their leader. “Charge!” they cried. “Charge! Charge!”

  David rushed to the wall, looking downhill. He was stunned to see the advancing Confederate force stop in its tracks. Almost immediately, the soldiers turned and ran. A few of the braver souls emptied their rifles before dropping them to follow the rest. About seventy yards down the slope, David caught sight of Chamberlain. He had his left hand on the trunk of a tree, and in his right he held the sword, the point of which was resting on the collarbone of a Rebel officer. The man had his hands up. It was over.

  David climbed over the rocks and sat down. With his back to the wall, he pulled the pouch from his pocket. As he looked down the slope, David brushed his fingers over the silky smoothness of the material. He put it close to his face and smelled the mixture of earth, sweat, and old tobacco. Unbuttoning the flap, David removed the paper that Chamberlain had written. With a final glance downhill and a deep breath, David opened the page.

  THE THIRD DECISION FOR SUCCESS

  I am a person of action.

  Beginning today, I will create a new future by creating a new me. No longer will I dwell in a pit of despair, moaning over squandered time and lost opportunity. I can do nothing about the past. My future is immediate. I will grasp it in both hands and carry it with running feet. When I am faced with the choice of doing nothing or doing something, I will always choose to act! I seize this moment. I choose now.

  I am a person of action. I am energetic. I move quickly.

  Knowing that laziness is a sin, I will create a habit of lively behavior. I will walk with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. The lifeblood rushing through my veins is urging me upward and forward into activity and accomplishment. Wealth and prosperity hide from the sluggard, but rich rewards come to the person who moves quickly.

  I am a person of action. I inspire others with my activity. I am a leader.

  Leading is doing. To lead, I must move forward. Many people move out of the way for a person on the run; others are caught up in his wake. My activity will create a wave of success for the people who follow. My activity will be consistent. This will instill confidence in my leadership. As a leader, I have the ability to encourage and inspire others to greatness. It is true: an army of sheep led by a lion would defeat an army of lions led by a sheep!

  I am a person of action. I can make a decision. I can make it now.

  A person who moves neither left nor right is destined for mediocrity. When faced with a decision, many people say they are waiting for God. But I understand, in most cases, God is waiting for me! He has given me a healthy mind to gather and sort information and the courage to come to a conclusion. I am not a quivering dog, indecisive and fearful. My constitution is strong and my pathway clear. Successful people make their decisions quickly and change their minds slowly. Failures make their decisions slowly and change their minds quickly. My decisions come quickly, and they lead to victory.

  I am a person of action. I am daring. I am courageous.

  Fear no longer has a place in my life. For too long, fear has outweighed my desire to make things better for my family. Never again! I have exposed fear as a vapor, an impostor that never had any power over me in the first place! I do not fear opinion, gossip, or the idle chatter of monkeys, for all are the same to me. I do not fear failure, for in my life, failure is a myth. Failure exists only for the person who quits. I do not quit.

  I am courageous. I am a leader. I seize this moment. I choose now.

  I am a person of action.

  SIX

  THE NAUSEA WAS MORE PRONOUNCED THIS TIME. When the rock wall disappeared behind David’s back, he immediately felt a swaying sensation drawing him down, back up, and then down again. Balling his fists and ducking his head, David wondered when the time shift would be finished. The sick feeling was almost overwhelming. Carefully, David opened his eyes and understood. The movement he had felt was not part of the travel; he had arrived in less than an instant. He was on a boat.

  It was dark, but despite the darkness, David could see the water in starlight. It was the ocean, he knew, for the salty smell reminded him of vacations to the beach with Ellen and Jenny. The motion of the boat bothered him less as his vision adjusted to his surroundings. Feeling around him, David discovered that he was sitting on a large pile of coiled rope. At least he thought it was rope. It was rougher and less uniform than any rope he’d ever used. It felt as if it were made out of grass.

  Touching the rope reminded David that he still held Chamberlain’s paper in one hand and the tobacco pouch in the other. Excited and somewhat amazed that the pouch had come with him, David hurriedly placed the paper in the pouch and buttoned it. Then he remembered the page from Truman and King Solomon’s leather scroll. Removing them from his pocket, David placed the first two priceless writings inside the colonel’s tobacco pouch with the third and shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans.

  Gingerly, David rose from his place of arrival. He was stiff and somewhat sore as if he’d been still for a long time. Looking up, David saw a massive broadcloth—a sail—and smiled. He had sailed with his father as a child. Small lakes and small boats—nothing this size! “Dad would really get a kick out of this,” he said aloud. Then David frowned. “Where are you, Dad?” he whispered.

  Suddenly, David felt very alone and very tired. Sinking down onto the pile of rope, he lay his head back as the tears welled up in his eyes. Would he ever see Ellen again? Or his daughter? Sweet Jenny. What were they thinking now? Were they scared? Happy? Had ten minutes passed . . . or a hundred years?

  “My friend! Pssst! My friend!” David felt a tugging on his sleeve and opened his eyes. It was still dark, though he felt as if he’d been asleep for some time. “My friend,” a figure hissed urgently, “please, if you will, come with me.” After being practically jerked to his feet, David followed the outline of a small, stocky man as he lightly stepped around barrels and ropes and poles, working his way to the center of the boat.

  Struggling to keep up, David almost tripped several times until, finally, the man stopped at the base of the mast. It was a large pole, bigger around than David could have reached, rising up into the darkness. Supporting the mainsail, it was covered in ropes and buckles. Without a glance at David, the man said simply, “Up,” and motioned with his hand for David to follow.

  The man was almost out of sight in seconds, so quickly did he climb. David hurried to keep up, but it was like crawling through a spider’s web. In only a short time, however, he felt a hand grasp the back of his shirt. The small man was very strong. He heaved David up, over the lip, and into a wooden cup built around the top of the mast. They were in the crow’s nest.

  The man smoothed David’s shirt where he had grabbed it, then placed both hands on David’s shoulders. “Welcome. Welcome, my friend,” he said quietly, but with enthusiasm. “I am most honored to make your acquaintance. And your name is . . . ?”

  “My name is David, David Ponder.”

  “Ah, Señor Ponder. May I call yo
u David?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Excellent! Are you hungry?”

  “No, not really. I . . .”

  “Good! We have very little to eat, and what we do have contains wee bugs!” David flinched. “But there is no problem,” the man said. “You will see. Our journey is almost at an end.”

  Despite the darkness, a reflection of the stars from the water illuminated the crow’s nest in a soft glow. David could see the man clearly now. He had reddish-brown hair, very curly, that fell almost to his shoulders. A triangular green felt hat was set far back on his head, the forward point jutting toward the sky. The rest of his clothes, but for a stout canvas jacket, were in tatters. The man’s pants fell in strips around his ankles, and his shoes were virtually nonexistent—hard leather wrapped around his feet.

  “May I ask your name, sir?” David asked.

  “Why, yes, of course.” The man put a hand to his head. “How rude of me! I am Capitán Colón. Capitán Cristóbal Colón, master of the Santa Maria, at your service.” He gave a little bow.

  “Colón?” David asked. “Columbus? You are Christopher Columbus?”

  “Yes.” The man smiled, a bit confused. “Columbus is the English pronunciation of my name, but your Portuguese is flawless. I naturally assumed . . .”

  David grinned. “I’m speaking Portuguese tonight only.”

  Columbus tilted his head as if trying to understand what David thought was humorous. “I see,” he said, though it was obvious to David that he did not. Clapping his hands together and rubbing them vigorously, Columbus changed the subject. “Whatever it is that you are doing tonight,” he said, “the night itself will soon be over. The sun will join us shortly!”

  The rocking of the vessel was more pronounced in the high perch, but otherwise, David felt safe, almost comfortable. From this elevation, he could see below that the boat was not very large compared to the vastness of the sea in which it sailed. Less than two hundred feet in length, the Santa Maria creaked and groaned with the rolling of the gentle waves. Looking behind her, David could just make out the shadows of two other boats. They rode the swells about a hundred yards to the rear, flanking their leader on either side.

  “The Niña and the Pinta?” David asked.

  “Why, yes,” Columbus answered. “Seaworthy vessels both, though not quite so luxurious as this.” He flung his arms out below him, indicating the deck of the Santa Maria.

  David suppressed a smile. “Do you know where you are?” he asked.

  “Certainly.” Columbus smiled. “I am right here! Do you know where you are?”

  David glanced around. “The Atlantic?”

  “Good! Good!” Columbus said as he clapped David on the back. “You are a wonderful navigator!”

  David was somewhat confused and more than a little uneasy. He spoke up again. “Do you really not know where you are?” he asked.

  “Does that have any bearing on what I can accomplish?” Columbus asked in return.

  “I don’t quite understand,” David said.

  “I have heard that question in one form or another since I was a child,” Columbus began. “Do you know where you are? Do you know what you are? Colón, you are uneducated. Colón, you are poor. You are the son of a weaver! What do you know about the sea?” He shook his head in disgust. “‘Do you know where you are?’ is a question that affects me not in the least! Now, ‘Do you know where you are going?’— there is a question I can answer! So, ask me that.”

  “Excuse me? Ask you . . . ?”

  “Ask me, ‘Do you know where you are going?’ Ask me!”

  “Okay.” David shrugged. “Do you know where you are going?”

  For the few minutes the two men had been in the crow’s nest, they had conversed in rather quiet, measured tones. At that point, however, Columbus received the question for which he had been waiting. He boomed out the answer. Carrying across the water, it sounded like the voice of God. Throwing his hand forward, pointing into the western sky, he cried, “Yes! Yes! I know where I am going! I am going to a new world!”

  Shivers played up David’s spine as he watched the explorer point into the darkness. For a moment, neither man said a word. Clearing his throat, David broke the silence. “How long since you left Spain?” he asked.

  “Sixty-four days,” Columbus said as he lowered his arm, “and today we shall see land. Look behind us.” David turned and saw a brightening in the eastern sky. “Dawn will be breaking soon. When it does, directly in front of the Santa Maria you will see land. Beautiful land with trees and fruit and animals and people who will welcome us as heroes! The water gushing from the ground will be cold and pure. It will sparkle as if sprinkled with diamonds! This will be a place for men’s dreams to come true—a glorious new world claimed by Cristóbal Colón in the name of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella!”

  David leaned forward and put his hands on the lip of the crow’s nest. “That would be King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain, correct?” he asked.

  Columbus nodded. “They are the financiers of this expedition. King John of Portugal, my king, said no to this grand opportunity, as did the kings and queens of many other countries. Nineteen years, my friend. It took nineteen years to find sponsorship. For nineteen years, I endured the agony of public humiliation for my convictions.”

  “Which convictions?” David asked.

  “The conviction . . . ,” Columbus said, his voice rising, “no, the absolute certainty that I can establish a new trade route by sailing west. West!”

  Columbus grabbed David by the shoulders and shook him once as he said, “My friend! The world is a sphere! It is not flat! We are sailing around the earth on the smooth surface of a sphere. We will not fall off some imaginary edge!”

  “Are you the only person who believes this?” David asked.

  “At the moment, yes,” Columbus said, “but that bothers me not in the least. Truth is truth. If a thousand people believe something foolish, it is still foolish! Truth is never dependent upon consensus of opinion. I have found that it is better to be alone and acting upon the truth in my heart than to follow a gaggle of silly geese doomed to mediocrity.”

  “You say it doesn’t bother you in the least,” David said. “You don’t care that people think you are . . . well . . . crazy?”

  “My friend,” Columbus said with a smile, “if you worry about what other people think of you, then you will have more confidence in their opinion than you have in your own. Poor is the man whose future depends on the opinions and permission of others. Remember this, if you are afraid of criticism, you will die doing nothing!”

  David frowned. “But with so many people against you,” he asked, “how did you get started in the first place?”

  “Getting started, getting finished—both ends of a journey require a demonstration of passion,” Columbus mused. David stared blankly at the great man. “Passion!” he said again in a forceful whisper. “Passion is a product of the heart. Passion is what helps you when you have a great dream. Passion breeds conviction and turns mediocrity into excellence! Your passion will motivate others to join you in pursuit of your dream. With passion, you will overcome insurmountable obstacles. You will become unstoppable!”

  David began to ask another question, but Columbus put his hand out to silence him. “Please, my friend,” he said. “Quiet for a time.” David did as he asked and followed his gaze into the western sky. The sun was just breaking the horizon behind them, throwing a brilliance over the miles of open ocean. Columbus peered ahead, concentrating with all his might into the distance. For one full minute he did not move. For two minutes . . . then ten. Only his eyes shifted as he scanned the line where the water touched the sky.

  After almost half an hour, Columbus straightened his back and rubbed his eyes. “Nothing?” David asked softly.

  “Yes, something,” Columbus answered.

  “What?” David looked around, confused. “You see land?”

  “Yes,” t
he great man said simply.

  David frowned. He was still straining to catch a glimpse of what Columbus claimed he saw. “Point it out to me, please.”

  “Señor Ponder,” Columbus said. “You are looking in the wrong direction. Today, you will not see land off the bow of my ship. You will see land only by looking into my eyes.”

  David turned. He felt as if he’d been tricked. “So there’s no land?” he said indignantly.

  “Yes, there is land,” Columbus replied, “and it is right there.” He gestured past the bow of the ship again. “I see it as plainly as I see you. For almost twenty years I have seen it. And tomorrow, you will see it too. It will come into view just as dawn breaks, directly in front of the Santa Maria. Beautiful land with trees and fruit and animals and people who will welcome us as heroes! The water gushing from the ground will be cold and pure. It will sparkle as if sprinkled with diamonds! This will be a place for men’s dreams to come true—a glorious new world claimed by Cristóbal Colón in the name of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella!”

  For a brief time, David did not breathe. His hair rustled in the steady breeze as he looked deeply into the eyes of the man before him. He saw there the passion and belief that had fueled this voyage of destiny. What could I accomplish, David wondered, with a spirit as powerful as this?

  “El Capitán!”

  David blinked. The spell had been broken by a voice calling from below.

  “El Capitán, sir!”

  The two men peered over the edge of the crow’s nest. Directly underneath them were four men. They motioned for Columbus to join them.

  Columbus pursed his lips and sighed. “Trouble?” David asked.

  Swinging his leg over the lip of the wooden cup, Columbus answered, “Most assuredly. These are my officers.”

  David climbed through the rigging, trying his best to follow the agile descent of the seaman. When at last he reached the deck of the Santa Maria, voices were already being raised. The first officer, though dressed exactly like his captain, was tall and heavily muscled. His long black hair had been tied into a ponytail and laid over his shoulder so that it fell down the front of his shirt. Like the other three men, he was clean shaven. Leading the contingent against their leader, First Officer Juan Garson did all the talking. “Your officers are in agreement, El Capitán. This voyage is finished! It is time to return.”