The Finger Of Whom

 Stop! says Gaius, to the oystercatcher.

The oystercatcher stops in mid gulp.

No, no, says Gaius. Continue eating. 

The oystercatcher swallows the dead sea slug, and turns to the live sea hare, its cousin.

Not me, please, says the sea hare. I'm on a mission.

Aren't we all? says the oystercatcher.

This mission may interest you, says Gaius. Do you remember an oystercatcher by the name of Saint Roley?

Saint Roley....Saint Roley.... says the oystercatcher, as though a bell may be ringing.

A few years ago now, says Gaius. He lost his brother, in sad circumstances.

Sorry to hear that, says the oystercatcher. 

Perhaps you've heard something? asks Gaius.

What were the circumstances? asks the oystercatcher.

Long story, says Gaius. But the short of it is that he put his trust in the pointing finger.

Of whom? asks the oystercatcher.

Of what, says Gaius. There was a hand printed on the piece of cardboard he floated away on. A hand with a pointing finger. He took it to mean he should float in the direction it pointed.

How do you know this? asks the oystercatcher.

It was at this point that the two brothers parted, says Gaius. Saint Roley knew what his brother was thinking. They differed. Saint Roley, on a separate piece of cardboard, drifted towards the rocks and was rescued.

You can't trust those pointing fingers, says the oystercatcher.

A wise aphorism, says Gaius. Could it be that these days all oystercatchers believe it?

Come to think of it, says the oystercatcher, it is a common piece of wisdom, among us.

Then some good has come of it, says Gaius.

I'll ask around, says the oystercatcher. If I learn anything, I'll come back this evening.

It stalks off.

Rather him than me, says the sea hare.

Gaius does not ask to what he is referring.