For ten years, Montgomery May traveled the world in a battered old ship.
When he returned home, he told everyone about the adventures he’d had and
the feats he had accomplished.
One of his most renowned feats was a leap. “I leaped from the island of
Rhodes to the mainland of Turkey, the great sea nipping at my ankles the
whole way,” Montgomery boasted one day to a crowd in the town square.
“Hundreds of people saw me do it. I leaped a greater distance than any man
has ever leaped. Anyone who saw me would tell you so.”
Cecil Saunders, Montgomery’s old rival, smiled. “No need to wait for
those people, Montgomery,” he said. “Pretend you are in Rhodes and show us
how far you can jump.”
Montgomery paused for only a moment. “Gladly, Cecil. If it meets with
your approval, I shall leap from Partridge Point”—and here he pointed to a
rocky outcrop where his ship was anchored—“to Isla’s Island.”
Cecil peered at the black dot far out at sea. “Hmph. Not quite the distance
from Rhodes to Turkey, but I suppose it will have to do.”
“Tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. sharp,” said Montgomery. “But such a leap
requires considerable sustenance and ample rest beforehand.” He now raised
his voice to the crowd. “Who among you will fuel me to my success?”
The townspeople cheered and crowded around him, each competing to
feed and house such an honored guest for the night. After much
effort, the wealthiest man in town persuaded Montgomery to come
and sup and sleep at his home.
And that was how Montgomery May came to eat a rich meal
and sleep in a vast featherbed before sneaking out to his boat
at 6 a.m. and sailing into the sunrise—doubtless to have more
adventures and accomplish more feats.
