Thunder from the Sea (10 page)

“Poor thing,” Fiona said. “He's suffered with that bullet wound more than he lets on.”

“That gun's big enough to bring down a bull moose,” Ken Rideout said.

“It's only by the grace of God that Thunder's alive,” Ruby added.

“Well, you were the one screamin' for help,” Amos defended himself. “I thought he'd gone mad!”

“You wouldn't harm Thunder again, now would you, Amos?” Ken's question was more like a warning.

Amos stood up. “Of course not! I'd sooner shoot myself than lay a hand on that dog!” he exclaimed angrily. “He saved our lives. Now let's not talk about it ever again.”

“Yes, enough said,” Enoch agreed.

The next morning Tom and the Murrays, along with the Rideouts, helped the Bosworths get their belongings onto the rescue ship out in the harbor. Thunder followed Tom down to the dinghy, limping slowly.

“Look at all that ballicatter!” Enoch pointed to
the glittering frozen spray that had gathered on the shoreline.

“We'll soon be iced in,” Ken said.

“Once the ice is safe, well cross over and visit,” Margaret said to Ruby.

Ruby hugged Margaret and then Fiona. “Well come back as often as we can. Don't have that baby until spring, when we're all together again.” She planted a kiss on Fiona's cheek, then climbed into the dinghy.

“The baby's due in April,” Fiona reminded her.

Nancy kissed Rowena, who started to cry. “Now, none o' that,” Nancy scolded, but her eyes had filled with tears too.

“You're a good beast,” Amos said softly as he bent over Thunder. “I'm owin' to ya.”

Bert petted Thunder's head. “Good-bye, boy. Thank you for savin' us.” He looked up at Tom and gave a half smile. “'Bye, Tom.”

Tom nodded. “'Bye,” he said.

“Don't get in any trouble over there,” Eddie teased Bert.

“I'll stay as pure as the driven snow,” Bert said, “until you come over to make a ruckus.”

The Bosworths stood at the rail as the rescue ship left the harbor. The Murrays and Rideouts waved until the boat became a small object in the distance.

“Now there's no one on Back o' the Moon, 'cept us,” Tom noted. “Everyone else has deserted the island.”

“And here I am with a baby comin',” Fiona said. “I'm not sure we should stay, Enoch.”

“We'll be all right,” Enoch said. “We ain't screedless, you know, maid.”

“You're right. We ain't lost
everything
. We got our house and each other, and enough wood to last us through the worst of the winter.”

“Once the ice is in, in another month or so, we can cross over to Chance-Along for provisions,” Ken said.

Fiona smiled. “We'll just snuggle in and settle down for now.”

“And who knows,” Margaret added, taking Rowena by the hand, “this may be a whole new adventure for all of us.” She ruffled Thunder's ears. “Right, boy?”

Thunder whined and thumped his tail.

B
y early December winter had set in fast. It was quiet on the nearly deserted island. The deep snowdrifts muffled sounds, except for the whistling of the wind through the trees.

Enoch and Tom brought in the hay from the outer pasture. Ken Rideout had a barn, so Prince would winter there. The men piled the hay against the inside walls of the shed. Then they brought Prince in from the outer pasture barn. “There should be enough hay here for one horse for the winter,” Enoch told Ken. “And we have plenty of oats from that last trip you took to Chance-Along.”

“I'll come get it tomorrow,” Ken said.

“Once the ice is thick, can't Prince take us by sleigh over the harbor to Chance-Along?” Tom asked.

“If the bridge was in, I'd take the sleigh, but the ice on the harbor is slippery, and the snow drifts leave bare spots,” Enoch said.

“Dogs do better on the ice,” Ken said. “Horses can slip and break a leg.”

“When Thunder's wound is healed up we'll give him a try with a slide,” Enoch said. “But for now I don't like to put a strain on his shoulder with the harness.” Tom must have looked worried, because Enoch patted his back. “Don't worry, lad. We have plenty of food and rations. We don't need to make Thunder work for now.”

Enoch, Tom, Ken, and Eddie pulled broken nets in from along the shore. They spent long hours repairing and scunning them together with twine and hooks and linnet oil, while curtains of snow crept up the windowpanes. In the frigid afternoons, Tom gave reading lessons to Eddie, who wanted to surprise his folks at Christmastime. “When I start reading from the Bible all by myself … well, that will be the biggest surprise and best present ever,” Eddie said.

Tom also helped Enoch to make a cradle for
the baby, fitting together pieces of maple that had been sanded to a smooth gloss. Fiona hugged and kissed them both when they presented her with the exquisite little bed.

It seemed Fiona was always busy knitting blankets, buntings, and sweaters for the baby. She'd hold up the finished project and say, “Isn't it sweet?” Then she'd kiss it and put it in the cradle with all the other baby things she'd made or collected.

Thunder stayed in the house most of the time, sleeping by the fire, or sitting by Tom, his head leaning against the boy's lap. “Thunder, you're droolin' all over me,” Tom said. “You need a bib!” The next morning Fiona took a piece of flour bag and made a bib for Thunder. “Isn't it sweet?” she asked. Everyone laughed when she tied it around the dog's thick neck.

At night Fiona and Enoch sat in the lamplight and told Tom legends of old Newfoundland, of pirates and ghosts that supposedly haunted their island country. Ken and Margaret often came over with Eddie and Rowena and added more stories.

One of Tom's favorites was the story of Captain Kidd and the treasure of gold that he concealed on the island of Newfoundland. “Do you suppose it's still there?” Tom asked.

“Maybe we'll go and search for ourselves someday,” Eddie said. “Would ya like to do that, Tom?”

“Aye! We'd bring back a boatload of gold and … build a castle here at Back o' the Moon!” Tom answered.

“Oh, be careful, me boys!” Enoch warned. “You'll need to watch out for the ghost.”

“Aye,” Ken piped up. “There's a ghost guardin' that treasure.”

“Stop it right now,” Margaret said, putting her hands over Rowena's ears. “You'll frighten the little one.”

“I wants to hear the story!” Rowena screamed, pushing her mother away.

“No scary stories for the likes of you,” Margaret said to Rowena. “The old hag will come and give you nightmares.”

“
Now
who's scarin' her?” Ken asked. “Old hag indeed!”

Margaret ignored him. “Come on, Fiona, let's fire up the kettle.” They went into the kitchen, pulling Rowena along, and closed the parlor door behind them.

“Tell us about the ghosts!” Tom and Eddie begged.

Enoch continued in a low, scary voice. “Well, as true as I'm alive, there's a ghost watchin' over that treasure. Why d'ya suppose it's never been found?”

“When the treasure was hidden, one pirate was chosen to guard the gold forever,” Ken told them.

“I don't think we should tell the boys … about all this.” Enoch looked at Ken questioningly, then winked.

“You're right, boy,” Ken agreed. “It might scarify 'em to death.”

“Tell us!” Tom and Eddie yelled together.

“Well, first off
this
is what became of the pirate who was chosen to guard the treasure.” Ken made a sweeping slash across his neck with his finger. Then he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

“They killed him?” Tom asked.

“Their own crewmate?” Eddie's eyes were huge.

“Aye! That's how the gold is guarded forever. The ghost stays with the treasure … wherever Capt'n Kidd planted it.”

“We wouldn't be ascared of any ol' ghosts, would we, Tom?” Eddie said.

“N'arn! There ain't no such thing as ghosts,” Tom agreed. “But where did Capt'n Kidd plant the treasure anyways?”

“I hears tell it might be at Cape Race,” Enoch said. “Or on Signal Hill in St. John's.”

“I've heard Cape Spear or Freshwater Bay,” Ken joined in.

“But—and this is the best part—on stormy nights when the wind is right, you can hear the
hollies
, the ghost cries of the pirate who's guardin' the treasure”—Enoch lowered his voice and motioned the boys closer—“right here in Back o' the Moon!”

Both boys gasped and their mouths dropped open.

“'Tis the gospel truth,” Ken whispered. “Listen when the wind is blowin' and you'll hear the hollies.”

“Good morrow to you! I don't believe a word,” Tom said, but his voice trembled.

“That's all pishogue,” Eddie said. “Ain't it?”

At that moment a piercing whistle came from the kitchen. The boys jumped and Thunder, who'd been sitting by the stove, leaped up with a bark. Enoch and Ken doubled over, laughing.

It was only the kettle!

After tea and bakeapple tarts, the Rideouts went out into the dark night. Eddie turned before leaving and said, “There ain't no such thing as ghosts, right, Tom?”

“It's foolish blather,” Tom answered. “That's all it is.”

During these winter evenings, Fiona sat listening to the stories while her knitting needles clicked and clicked and the fire snapped and hissed.

As her belly swelled, Fiona took to wearing bungalows—loose-fitting clothes—including old flannel shirts of Enoch's. “He must be a little roly-poly,” Enoch often said, patting Fiona's tummy.

“He? And what if it's a little girl?” Fiona would respond.

“Well, if so our wee maid is a roly-poly, like her mother!” was Enoch's teasing answer. Then he'd duck as Fiona threw a pillow at him.

Tom wondered if Enoch and Fiona hoped the baby would be a boy. And if so, would they still want him … or need him? This was a foolish thought. Tom chided himself. Of course Enoch and Fiona would still want him. Hadn't they said so a dozen times?

Besides, a little boy would be right wonderful! Tom could teach him to play ball and to fish. Still, Tom wasn't Enoch and Fiona's true son. And the baby wouldn't be his true brother or sister, either.

On one of these nights, Tom pressed his face into the white lightning streak on Thunder's chest. “Fiona and Enoch will still need us when the baby comes, you know,” he told the dog. “And the baby will need us too. Sure they will. So don't you worry, boy. We'll be okay, Thunder, just as long as we stick together.”

Christmas was coming and Tom recalled the holiday festivities at the mission when everyone
gathered around the tree and sang carols. There were presents, too. Not one child went without a gift.

Tom wondered what he should give to Fiona and Enoch. He couldn't get to the stores at Chance-Along, and even if he could, he had no money. So Tom was relieved when Enoch said, “Tom, we won't be celebrating Christmas the way you're probably used to celebrating. Don't worry about gettin' anything for Fiona and me. We keep Christmas simple—without all the fuss. After all, Jesus was born in a barn to a humble family.”

Fiona added, “We don't have much to give this year in the way of gifts. We've lost so much with the earthquake and the tidal wave. But we do have each other and that is the best gift of all.”

On Christmas day Fiona handed Tom a small white box tied with a gold ribbon. Tom was alarmed. They were giving him a gift and he had nothing to give them! “Oh, but you said—”

Fiona quickly interrupted. “This isn't really a Christmas present, Tom. We would have given it to you anyway. It belongs to you.”

Tom opened the box and gasped. “Grandfather's pocket watch!” The gold watch gleamed. It had been polished to a bright shine and the engraved Celtic knot stood out clearly. Tom popped it open. The broken crystal had been replaced. Even the face and hands looked like new. Tom put the watch to his ear and heard its familiar ticking. His eyes filled with tears.

“We knew it meant a lot to you, so we took it to the jeweler at Chance-Along the day we went to Dr. Sullivan's,” Enoch explained.

“Ken picked it up one day when he was able to get over to the mainland,” Fiona said.

Tom threw his arms around Fiona and then Enoch. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Later, after dinner, they were about to have dessert—hot fig duff, a boiled flour pudding with raisins—when they heard a banging on the door.

“I'll go,” Tom said, expecting to see one of the Rideouts. Thunder barked and followed him.

Six strange creatures—one with the head of a horse, another with a crown, and all with ghostly masks—stood on the threshold.

t
om gaped at the strange sight. What was going on? Muffled laughs came from under the masks. “Any mummers loud in?” they asked.

“We're nice mummers. We're good jannies,” said the horse in a hollow voice. “We're comin' in to dance with ya!” The group stomped the snow from their feet, pushed past Tom, and crowded into the house.

“Who are you?” Tom asked.

“Don't ask,” whispered one of the mummers, who wore a kitchen pot for a hat and red yarn for a beard. “It's against the rules.”

Tom recalled that if you guessed who was under the mask, they would have to reveal themselves, and no mummer wanted that.

They had to be the Rideouts! After all, there
were no other families on the island. But there were only four Rideouts, and none of them was the right size—no jannie here was small like Rowena, nor thin like Ken, nor chubby like Margaret. Who were they? Where did they come from? How did they get here?