Thunder from the Sea (6 page)

This was a new dream—one he had never considered. He suddenly pictured himself as an older brother, helping to feed the baby, watching the baby laugh, and holding him—or her.

“Does Enoch want me to stay too?”

“Of course he does.”

Tom sighed. “I'm glad,” he said.

“I'm goin' to search everywhere for Thunder today,” Tom announced the next morning. “He's got to be
somewhere
on this island.”

“You go on,” Enoch said. “I'll go down to the flakes and ask Amos about it. And I want to ask that Bert if he knows anythin' about our clothesline.”

Tom headed up the road to the back meadow
where Prince was grazing. “Thunder!” Tom called. The horse looked up and then went back to chewing the tall grass.

Tom crossed the field toward an old, unpainted barn. Grasshoppers tickled his legs and the sun beat down like July instead of late September. He began to run through the grass toward the barn, when he heard someone call his name. “Tom!” It was Nancy. “Wait!”

He stopped as Nancy caught up to him. “Where are you goin'?” she asked.

“I'm lookin' for my dog. Do you know where he is?”

“Um, maybe.”

“What do you mean 'maybe'?”

Nancy folded her arms across her chest. “If I tell you where Thunder is, will you do somethin' for me?”

“What?”

“You told me you'd teach me to read and then you went back on your word.”

“Come on, Nancy. I never promised any such thing. Where's my dog?”

“If I tell you, will you teach me to read?”

“Um … all right.”

Nancy's eyebrows furrowed into a worried frown. “You've got to swear you won't tell anyone how you found out where Thunder is.”

“I swear!” Tom said impatiently. “Now, where
is
Thunder?”

“He's in the barn, the one in the far meadow.” She gestured to the crumbling barn in the distance.

“I was about to look there anyway,” Tom said as Nancy scurried away. “Thunder!” he shouted as he headed across the pasture toward the barn. This time he heard a muffled bark. Running, Tom called again, and as he got closer the excited barks were clearer. It had to be Thunder!

The barn door was latched with a piece of lumber. Tom lifted the board and the door opened. The smell of hay drifted from the dark interior. “Thunder?” He could hear whining and scratching. “Thunder!”

A joyous bark answered him from a stall on the opposite side of the barn. Tom ran through the darkness and threw open the door of the stall. The black dog leaped up, nearly knocking Tom
over, lapping his face and whining happily.

“Oh, my good boy,” Tom shouted, laughing. “I found you. I found you!”

A shadow appeared in the open doorway. It was Bert.

t
om noticed the rope that bound Thunder to the stall was the one that had disappeared from the Murrays'. “I'm takin' Thunder home where he belongs, Bert.”

“No! You had him for a month,” Bert argued. “Now it's
my
turn.”

“Who said we were goin' to take turns?”

Bert grabbed for Thunder's collar, but Tom pushed him away. “You have no right to steal Thunder from me!”

Bert pushed him back. “How could I steal him from you? You don't own him!” He shoved Tom again.

“Keep your hands off o' me!” Tom warned.

“No, I won't! Take this!” Bert pulled his arm back and then slammed his fist into Tom's chest.
Thunder growled and barked excitedly.

Tom's anger was stronger than the pain. He dove at Bert, tackling him to the ground. As he landed, Tom heard the crunch of glass.
His pocket watch!
Now he was furious. He went after Bert, his fists pounding at his chest and face.

Barking, Thunder circled the boys as they pummeled each other. Bert struggled to his feet and was about to kick Tom when Thunder grabbed the leg of Bert's trousers with his teeth and pulled him away from Tom.

“Better stay away from me, Bert. Thunder might bite your head off!” Tom said. “He's decided who he wants to be with … and it isn't you!” He brushed himself off and headed out of the barn with Thunder by his side.

“I don't want that ugly ol' dog!” Bert yelled after them. “You won't get to keep him anyway. My pa's goin' to find the real owner if it's the last thing he does on this earth!”

When Tom and Thunder came around the final bend in the road back home, Fiona went out to meet them. “Well, lo and behold you, Thunder,” she said, opening the gate. “Where have you
been?” She bent down and patted the dog, who licked her hand.

“Bert hid him in the barn out in the back meadow.”

“My blessed fortune! What happened to you?” Fiona brushed the dirt from Tom's hair. “Did you have a fight with Bert?”

Tom nodded. “He said his pa's gonna find Thunder's owner and take him away from us.” He reached into his pocket and brought out the gold watch. The cover was dented, the glass on the face was smashed, and the screw that wound the watch was broken off.

“Oh, Tom! What's this?” Fiona put her hand out and Tom dropped the broken timepiece into her palm.

“My pocket watch. It belonged to my grandfather and then my father,” Tom said. “I've kept it like somethin' precious all this time. I even sleep with it under my pillow. And now it's ruined. That's what I get for fightin' with Bert.” Tom swallowed hard, holding back tears.

Fiona put her arm around him. “I'll see if we can get it fixed somewhere.” She pulled a
handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped the broken watch carefully. “Maybe when Enoch goes to St. John's.” She noticed a tear on his cheek and brushed it away. “It'll be all right, my child. You'll see. Enoch should be back from talking to Amos anytime now.” Fiona went into the house. “Thunder, you must be hungry. I'll get you some nice leftover stew.”

Tom sat on the steps, his chin cupped in his hands. Thunder sat next to him, watching him with curious eyes. Would Enoch really be able to make things better with Amos? “I feel like a jinker,” Tom said to Thunder. “I've brought nothin' but bad luck since I came.”

Thunder leaned against Tom. “We're both orphans, Thunder,” Tom said. “Don't you ever leave me again. We need to stick together no matter what.”

Fiona came onto the porch with a big dish of leftovers. “Here you are, Thunder. A welcome home feast!” She set it on the porch floor and Thunder gobbled it up, his tail swishing happily.

Fiona sat down with Tom on the steps just as Enoch appeared coming up the road.

“What happened with Amos?” Fiona asked when he came through the gate.

“Amos was pretty sore at me for makin' such a to-do about Bert's pranks.” Enoch scratched the back of his head. “He says the dog's a jinx—he's brought nothin' but bad luck.”

“That's pishogue!” Fiona snapped. “Bad luck, indeed!”

“I told him we're keepin' Thunder. In fact, I tore down the notices we put up about a missing dog.” He stroked Thunder's ears. “We've had those signs up for well over a month now and no one's responded. O' course, I don't know how many notices Amos sent out to other ports or fisheries. But as far as I'm concerned the dog is yours, Tom.”

Tom threw his arms around Thunder. “Hear that? You're my dog, good and true!”

Fiona frowned. “I don't trust Amos. He's carryin' such a grudge, no tellin' what he might do.”

“He'll be all right,” Enoch assured her, “once this has all blown over.”

Fiona was beginning to feel better, and for the next several days, Tom and Enoch and Thunder
went fishing by themselves. It was a quiet and pleasant time, and Enoch told Tom stories of the sea. Tom especially liked the stories of pirates, like Peter Easton, the “Pirate Admiral” who captured three Spanish treasure ships and divided the bounty with his crew. According to legend, he and other pirates hid their treasures in some of the caves along the Newfoundland shoreline. “They timed the opening of the caves with the tides,” Enoch explained. “Only for a few moments during the day could the caves be entered. And no one knows, of the thousands of caves along the cliffs, which might contain the treasures.”

Tom had quiet times too. He'd row along the shoreline in his little red punt. Thunder sat in the bow, sniffing at the water or barking at a bird. Sometimes they'd hike toward Eastern Head, peering into the caves that were tucked into the crags and wondering about pirates and treasures.

One October morning, as he and Thunder were exploring the high ground near Eastern Head and climbing across the enormous boulders, Tom heard something. Thunder heard it too,
as he stopped with his ears flicked up, listening.

Then Tom saw it: a large cave in the cliff. A strange high-pitched, squeaky voice drifted out from within the dark opening.

“a
yedisismeveryowncopy'ouseandnoonecanenterlessisayso!”

It was Nancy! She and Rowena were standing by the open cave!

“What were you singin'?” he asked. “Cheek music?”

“It's jannie talk,” Rowena piped up.

“You know, like the mummers—the jannies,” Nancy said. “They come to houses at Christmastime in their masks and talk their silly jannie talk.”

Tom had heard of the mummers when he lived at the mission, but had never seen them. He had been told they wore crazy costumes and showed up at Christmastime in an old Newfoundland custom. They were considered too rowdy and wild, so they were often unwelcome. Tom knew they
spoke in weird voices with strange messages to disguise themselves.

“I can't tell what Nancy's sayin' when she talks jannie talk,” Rowena said. “She says she's speakin' with real words, but I don't believe her.”

“Tom! Come see our copy house,” Nancy said. “It's our own secret place, and you can't tell anyone.”

“Why would I?” Tom stepped into the cave and was surprised to see how well the girls' playhouse was hidden in the wall of the cliff. A flat rock was set like a table with pieces of shard. A doll wrapped in a blanket was tucked into a depression which looked very much like a cradle. It was crowded in the cave, so Tom went outside again.

“Listen here, Tom,” Nancy said, following him. “This is the place where you can teach me to read. Wait!” She went back into the shallow cave and brought out a canvas envelope. “I have paper, pencils, and a brand new notebook my aunt sent me. We can sit outside, or if it gets cold, we can go into the cave. So sit down right now and help me. You promised.” She sat on a smooth boulder and pulled Rowena into her lap.

Tom sat next to them while Thunder lay down by his feet. “Do you know your alphabet?”

“I know my alphabet,” Rowena chimed in. “A, B, C, D …,” she sang.

“Hush!” Nancy silenced her, and then answered. “I know the alphabet from A to Zed. But I don't know how to make words with the letters.”

“Every letter has a sound, sometimes more than one sound,” Tom told her. “There are five vowels you need to learn.” He wrote A E I O U in the notebook, one vowel on each page. He explained each vowel and its sounds. “Say ‘aaah, ay,'” he showed her, beginning with the letter A.

Nancy repeated the sounds after Tom. Little Rowena tried too. “Those aren't words, Tom,” Nancy protested.

“But they're like… magic ingredients,” Tom said.

“Magic?” Rowena's eyes widened.

“They make the other letters become words. You'll see.” Tom pointed to the vowels. “Practice all these sounds, and the next time I'll show you how they make words.” He got up to leave.

“When's the next time? Tomorrow?”

“All right. I'll be here tomorrow at the same time.”

Several mornings during the next few weeks Tom met Nancy and Rowena at the cave. Thunder always went along with him. Enoch was still fishing with Amos until the winter ice came in and closed the harbor. Since Fiona was feeling better, Tom was free to give Nancy her lessons. Tom was surprised how quickly Nancy learned. But Rowena was distracting, whining for attention or wandering off among the rocks. Thunder always sprawled out in a sunny spot and slept, snoring now and then.

One day Tom spent a longer time than usual, showing Nancy how changing just one letter can change a word. “Take the word
cat
,” he explained to Nancy. “See how you can change it by switching the first letter?”

“Bat!” Nancy said, pointing to the letter B. “H … hat!”

“Good for you, Nancy,” Tom praised her. He got up. “I've got to go back and see if Fiona needs me. Try writing all the ‘at' words you can think of, and I'll see them when I come back.”

“All right,” Nancy agreed.

Thunder pulled himself up and followed Tom.

Rowena was climbing a boulder toward the tuckamore at the top of the slope. “You'd better keep an eye on Rowena,” Tom said. “She could wander away.”

Nancy nodded, already busy writing words in her notebook.

When Tom and Thunder arrived home, the house smelled of cinnamon and apples, and a crackling fire burned in the wood stove.

“I baked muffins this morning!” Fiona said. “Sit down and have one with me, Tom.” She poured tea for the two of them and spread bakeapple jam on the steaming muffins.

Tom removed his jacket and sat at the table. “These are right scrumptious,” Tom said, his mouth full.

Fiona sipped her tea. “Where do you go on your mornin' walks, Tom?”

“Up beyond the Bosworths' house, but not all the way to Eastern Head. Just up to where the boulders are.”

“What do you and Thunder do up there all by yourselves?”

He put down his teacup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”