Saint Brendan and the Island That Swam (Campfire Story)

About fifteen hundred years ago, on the wild west coast of Ireland, there lived a monk named BRENDAN. Brendan loved the sea. He loved the smell of salt, and the cry of the gulls, and the sound of the WAVES on the rocks. And more than anything, he wanted to find out what was on the other side of the ocean.

Old sailors told stories of a beautiful land far to the west, the Promised Land of the Saints, where the trees were always green. So BRENDAN decided to find it.

He and his monks built a boat called a curragh. It had a frame of thin wooden ribs, and over it they stretched the hides of oxen, sewn together and smeared with grease to keep the water out. Then fourteen monks climbed in, BRENDAN raised the little square sail, and off they went, out over the WAVES.

They sailed for days, and then weeks. They rowed when the wind died, and they bailed when the WAVES splashed in. They saw sea monsters, and towers of floating crystal, which might have been icebergs. And when the food began to run low and the monks began to grumble, BRENDAN only said, 'Steady, lads.'

At last, just before Easter, they spotted an island. It was small, and smooth, and dark, without a single tree or blade of grass. But it was land! The monks cheered, hauled the curragh up onto the shore, and climbed out to stretch their legs. BRENDAN stayed in the boat. He had a funny feeling about that island.

The monks gathered driftwood, set a big iron pot on top, and lit a fire to cook a hot meal. It was the first warm food they'd had in weeks. The fire crackled. The pot began to bubble.

And the island moved.

Just a little shiver at first. Then a rumble. Then the whole island lurched sideways, and the cooking pot went rolling, and a great fountain of water shot up into the air at the far end of the island. JASCONIUS!

'Into the boat!' shouted BRENDAN. The monks ran, slipping and sliding, and tumbled into the curragh just as the island began to swim away across the sea, with their campfire still burning on its back.

It wasn't an island at all. It was a whale. The biggest whale in the ocean. The monks had lit a fire right on top of his back.

'Brother Brendan,' gasped one of the monks, 'did you know?'

BRENDAN only smiled. 'I had a feeling. That's why I stayed in the boat.'

The whale's name, the monks decided, was JASCONIUS. And the strangest thing is, that wasn't the last time they met him. Every Easter for seven years, as Brendan's curragh wandered the ocean, the great whale surfaced to meet them, and let them land on his back to celebrate. They learned to keep the fire small.

After seven years of sailing, they say, BRENDAN and his monks finally reached a beautiful green land in the far west, full of fruit and flowers. Some people think it was a legend. Some people think it might have been Newfoundland, or even America, almost a thousand years before Columbus. In 1976, a sailor named Tim Severin built a leather boat just like Brendan's and sailed it from Ireland to Newfoundland, just to prove it could be done.

So the next time you're at a campfire, take a good look at the ground under you. Make sure it isn't breathing. JASCONIUS!

Storyteller tips: let the island moving be a surprise, so drop your voice and slow down for "And the island moved." After the story, ask your Scouts what they'd pack for a seven-year voyage in a leather boat.

Brendan's voyage comes from the medieval Navigatio Sancti Brendani. Tim Severin's Brendan Voyage (1976-77) sailed a replica ox-hide curragh from Ireland to Newfoundland by way of the Faroes and Iceland.