“He’s comiiing!” A ripple of excitement runs through the crowd like wind through a field of poppies. It’s one o’clock, and he’s right on time. I pick up my godson, holding him high above the crowd.

“Look!” Michael points to the boat that suddenly rounds the corner, jiggles up and down in my arms and almost deafens me with his shout: “Hi Santa!”

Michael is seven. This could be the last year he believes in Santa Claus, but then again, maybe not. A fierce supporter of the man in red, he’s been known to deny doubting friends the chance to play with his coveted Bionicle toys. He does know, however, that there are many fake Santas out there, so today he has a plan. “I’ll know if he’s the real Santa by looking at the elves’ ears. If they have pointy ears, they’re real, and that means this Santa is real.”

It’s a Saturday in early December and this is the Santa Ship’s 56th year visiting children at Port Washington on British Columbia’s Pender Islands. The Highland Pipers, the Penders’ own pipe band, march smartly past us to the head of the wharf, serenading the approaching boat. Santa may not be able to hear, but we sure can.

“Hey, Michael, there he is!”

Beside a gigantic, jiggling killer whale balloon, Santa is waving from the bridge of the Island Caper – a 110-foot whale-watching vessel magically transformed every December into Santa’s sleigh. The whale wears a red cap, Christmas garlands thread their way through the ship’s rails, Christmas music booms from the intercom, and men in red sweatshirts with “Santa’s Helper” emblazoned widely across their chests crowd by the ship’s sides, beaming. Here and there, I spy different, brightly colored individuals onboard and breathe a sigh of relief.

“Look, Michael, the elves are disguised as clowns. They’re wearing big wigs to hide their pointy ears!” But his attention is taken up with the huge two-legged lion leaping from the boat. Onshore, the lineup – so orderly before the ship arrived – has taken on a life of its own, pulsating around us. Children race back from the outdoor concession and bump about, dripping hot dog relish, and hot chocolate and causing oblivious adults to spill their coffee.

Michael asks a little girl who has pushed up beside him if she knows how many clowns there are. He has a new plan to discover whether Santa is real. If he’s genuine, he’ll have 15 elves.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Ask the lion. That lion knows everything.” Elsie is six and no amateur. This is the third year she’s lined up at Port Washington.

Now that the ship has docked, the helpers are busy unloading bulging sacks while keeping the surging crowd back, as Santa strides up the dock with all the self-confidence of a man who knows he’s universally loved. He’s soon ensconced in his throne. Two elf/clowns stand ready to hand him his sack and greet each child.

We’re lucky, big time. We’re almost at the front of the line, and here’s the shaggy lion creeping toward us. Michael stretches a shy hand to stroke a paw and, before we know it, the purring lion is posing for a picture.

“Excuse me. How many elves are here?” my godson whispers to the big guy. Fortunately, Lion is hard of hearing. He’s already stalking the next child in line while Santa’s helper is beckoning to us. It’s time to meet the man in red. Michael, distracted, clambers on his lap and asks for another Bionicle creature for Christmas, dropping cookie crumbs on Santa’s beard.

“Have you been a good boy this year?” Michael nods his head solemnly. “Yes, because I know if you be a bad boy you get coal at Christmas.”

Santa chuckles and checks his pockets. “Well, my elves didn’t put any coal in there, so I guess everyone’s been good on Pender.” That’s 125 good children then (my guess at the number of children here today), and Santa has to see them all in an hour and a quarter, in order to still get to Galiano, Mayne and Salt Spring Islands today.

Michael is delighted with his two presents: a stocking filled with candy and a little teddy bear wearing a Christmas hat, just like the killer whale’s. And if that’s not enough, a rainbow-haired elf-clown is now twisting a balloon into a wiener dog for my excited little friend. These guys really know how to cram a lot of fun into a short time. They go to special conventions to learn how . . . and they all seem so happy and relaxed. You’d never guess that this jolly, bedecked boat left the rocky waters off Bellingham, Washington, at 8 a.m. this morning to visit the kids on Saturna before descending on us.

Santa and his retinue will overnight on Salt Spring at their favorite rendezvous; reindeer stay free at Harbour House and Santa and his elves get discounts. Tomorrow morning they’ll harness the reindeer once again and they’’ll gallop across Haro Strait and over the Canadian/American border, to delight the San Juan children of Stuart, Waldron, Shaw, Lopez, Decatur, Blakely and Lummi Islands before finally limping back to Bellingham at 8 p.m. It’s a goodwill tradition upheld since 1952, when the Sea Scouts, sponsored by the Eagles Lodge in Bellingham, first whisked Santa to several of the San Juan Islands with the legendary Don Wight as skipper. Under the sponsorship of the Bellingham Jaycees, the itinerary turned international in 1955, with Pender and Mayne Islands getting in on the excitement. By 1962, the demand for Santa had spread to even more of the American San Juans and to Galiano, Salt Spring and Saturna Islands in Canada (the Lions took over sponsorship in the 1980s.) Santa now needs two days to visit them all – and some 1,500 toys and 70lbs of candy. The second weekend in December has evolved into a Santa Ship weekend tradition, with Wight’s son and namesake carrying on the family tradition as Santa’s captain and chair of the Christmas Ship Project.

Each year, the various Gulf Island Lions chapters raise funds and add their own special touches to an already exciting event. On Pender, it’s the pipers who play the tune; on Mayne, the fire truck takes Santa in comfort up to the community hall; on Galiano, as darkness falls and the Santa ship’s Christmas lights dazzle like fireworks, hot chocolate and a crackling bonfire warm everyone in Montague Harbour; while on Salt Spring, Santa rides to the school gym and – after seeing all the youngsters – goes off to visit the even more excited young-at-heart at the local hospital. Born in the days of a depressed economy, to help out needy families and to bring joy to their children, the Santa ship is now something else entirely: a symbol of international goodwill, and of a tradition going back three generations.

Michael hands me his wiener dog and turns to the elf/clown. His final ploy is to sneak a peek at those ears, but he can’t reach the elf/clown’s cotton-candy hair, so he just boldly asks: “Excuse me, do you have pointy ears?”

The startled clown looks over at me, sees my nod and affirms adamantly: “Of course.”

“Can I see them?”

“Certainly not. I'm in disguise. Don’t you tell a soul. It’s our secret. Promise!”

The tiny sleuth’s eyes get big, and he nods seriously.

Our holiday outing winds up with a privileged visit to Santa’s ship. Michael gets to clamber on board, say “Hi” to the cook (who, though she felt queasy in the early morning’s riled seas, is fine now and busy with a lasagna for Santa’s dinner), and check out the other helpers busy stuffing bags with toys for the next island. He vacuums up some chips, cookies and peanuts, pets the head of the killer whale, counts on his fingers four times and announces that he’s certain this is the real Santa. Why? Because there are so many helpers, maybe 40 or 400, and they are all way too happy for adults.

The ship toots, the clowns, helpers and Santa scuttle to the boat and Michael reluctantly disembarks. He knows better than to ask: children have never been allowed to travel on Santa’s sleigh.

We all wave goodbye. Michael tugs at my hand, and asks if he can come again next year and bring those doubting friends of his. I agree, though eight is a dangerous age for Santa believers. I wish he could stay seven forever.

Sidebar:
When: Santa’s ship sails the second weekend of December. Check out dates. (home.comcast.net/~bhamlions/xmasship.htm)