by Down, Reg
‘So I heard too,’ said the other. ‘I hear she lives by the shores of men. She fears the deeps where the King sits in gloom.’
‘Why should she fear her father?’ said the first. ‘He loves her dearly.’
‘And she loves him dearly too,’ said the second. ‘But her necklace was stolen. She fears he’ll see her without it.’
Then the fish turned off their lanterns and went hunting in the dark.
The King of the Sea rose from the deep. Terrible was his face, terrible were his eyes and the water churned about him. He called his sons and daughters, the mermen and maids, and asked: ‘Who stole the pearls from my fair daughter’s neck?’
‘Not I,’ said they, one by one by one. All but the last three said, ‘Not I.’ These last three hung their heads and dared not look their father in the eye.
The Sea King knew then that the lantern fish had spoken true. He bound the guilty ones to three rocky islands in the Mediterranean Sea, there to sing to men with beguiling songs of promise and praise until they drive their ships upon the craggy rocks and are drowned.”
“And what happened then” asked Tiptoes.
“He searched,” said Obaro, “the Sea King searched for his lovely daughter, but what happened is not known to me.”
“I saw him out at sea,” said Tiptoes. “He is still looking for her.”
“He is, is he?” said Obaro. “After all these many years he searches for her still. Oh, oh, this cave has been so busy, so busy! And now the pearls are found too. What is going on? What is going on?”
Chapter 45
Cillie and Conn
The turkey was roasting in the oven, the sun was shining, and everyone was hiking along the top of the bluff to the trestle over Pudding Creek. June Berry and Veronica were taking turns to wear the necklace. They skipped ahead holding hands. Tom had Lucy on a leash. He walked with Uncle Finn and talked about racing cars. The tide was coming in, and all along the bluff and on the beach families and couples were out walking for Thanksgiving.
They got about half way there when Johnny Top didn’t want to go any further. For his little legs the trestle was far, far away, so Gramma stayed with him while everybody else went ahead. They found a place to climb down the bluff and play on the beach. Johnny Top wanted to build a sandcastle, so they chose a spot and he and Gramma started digging. Suddenly two gnomes appeared.
“Look, Johnny Top,” said Gramma. “Sand gnomes.”
They had bare feet and wore speckled, sandy colored pants and shirts. Their faces had sandy freckles by the thousand. They looked at Johnny Top with great interest. Gnomes are puzzled by human babies and little ones—they can’t understand how such vast, cosmic beings can be so helpless. It doesn’t make sense to them.
Johnny Top stared back at them and laughed. “Who are you?” he asked. They looked funny to him.
“I’m Cillie,” said one with a huge big grin.
“And I’m Conn,” said the other, winking an eye. “What are you doing?”
“Building a sandcastle,” said Johnny Top. “Come play.”
“Okay,” said Cillie and Conn and joined in straight away. They ran around and helped Johnny Top build the castle.
“We can put a wall here,” said Cillie, showing how to shape the sand.
“And a tower there,” said Conn, and they built a tower.
“You can make a gateway over here,” said Cillie, pointing. “You dig it out with your fingers.”
“Now we need a bridge over the moat,” said Conn. “Let’s look for a piece of wood.”
Johnny Top and the gnomes searched the shore and found a piece of wood beside a clump of seaweed. It became the bridge that spanned the moat. Then they put in pebble windows and planted seaweed trees. Soon they had a real castle. All they needed was a prince and princess standing on a tower. Everyone searched up and down the beach for the prince and princess. Finally Gramma found two twirly seashells.
“Here they are,” said Gramma, and she put them side by side on top of two twigs on the tower. Cillie and Conn touched them and they turned into a handsome prince and princess. Johnny Top was delighted.
“Watch out!” cried Gramma suddenly. “A wave’s coming.”
The wave shot up the sand and everyone had to jump up and run away. It flooded the moat but didn’t touch the castle.
“Deepen the moat,” cried Cillie, and Johnny Top and Gramma dug furiously.
“Build a sea wall,” shouted Conn. “The King of Tides is rising!”
They dug and built the sea wall as fast as they could. They were just in time, for another wave came washing up the beach. It hit the sea wall with a splash, but still didn’t touch the castle.
“Yea, we saved the castle,” cried Johnny Top, dancing around.
But the King of Tides was coming in and coming in. Bit by bit the sea wall crumbled and washed away.
“Save the prince and princess,” said Gramma.
Cillie and Conn grabbed them from the tower and gave them to Johnny Top. A moment later the next wave rushed over the sea wall and the castle began to crumble. Wave after wave came and soon there was nothing but a pile of sand on the beach.
“That was fun,” said Cillie and Conn, “but it’s time for us to go.”
“Bye, Cillie! Bye, Conn!” called Johnny Top and Gramma.
Cillie and Conn waved goodbye and skipped down the beach towards the sea. They laughed and shouted until a wave rushed towards them. Just before the water washed over their heads they dived into the sand and were gone.
Chapter 46
Whale Watching
After lunch Farmer John took the kids whale watching. They drove into Summer’s Fort and down Main Street. Just before the bridge that leaped across the Noyo River they turned left and wound their way down to the harbor.
They parked the car and walked along the quay. Fishing and crabbing and pleasure boats lined the docks. They rocked gently on the water or rattled and clanked as folk got ready to go to sea. Farmer John stopped at a blue and white boat. It had a small cabin towards the front just big enough for one or two people. Its name, written neatly on the side, was Periwinkle Blue.
“Welcome, welcome,” said the owner. “I’m Crabby Sam. You must be John Nutcracker. Come on board. My real name’s Sam, but I catch crabs for a living—that’s why they call me Crabby Sam.”
He helped everyone onto the boat and gave out lifejackets and long raincoats. “You must wear the lifejacket and you might need the coats,” he said. “It can be windy and cool on the water.” Then he cast off and slowly puttered out of the harbor. They turned the corner and passed under the bridge soaring high over their heads and out into Noyo Bay. As they were leaving, another boat came into the harbor. In it was a man with a beard and captain’s cap.
“That’s the lighthouse keeper,” said Crabby Sam. “How he lives out on that rock all by himself I’ll never know.”
Tom waved to him and he waved back. On the front of his boat sat Tiptoes Lightly and she was waving too. At first no one saw her, but suddenly June Berry cried out: “Look, Tiptoes is with him! She’s on the front.”
“Tiptoes! Tiptoes!” cried Johnny Top, jumping up and down and waving until the boat was out of sight.
“How did she get there?” asked Veronica, wondering.
June Berry shrugged. “Tiptoes seems to get everywhere,” she said.
Over the ocean waves they puttered, the boat rocking and swaying to the rhythm of the swell. They followed the coast northward past Summer’s Fort.
“There’s Pudding Creek and the trestle beside the long beach,” said Tom.
“And the cottage,” said Farmer John, holding Johnny Top in his arms. “Over there by that clump of trees.”
The children shaded their eyes and saw it at last. From out at sea the cottage looked like a toy.
They sailed further away from shore, out beyond the lighthouse and the steep cliffs where the mountains came down to the sea. The boat slowed down and Crabby Sam t
ook out his binoculars and scanned the water.
“Thar she blows!” he cried at last, and everyone turned to where he was looking. A dark shape rose out of the waves. With a mighty whoosh it sent a spout of mist high into the air and dove into the deeps again.
“A whale! A whale!” cried Johnny Top. “He’s huge.”
“That he is,” chuckled Crabby Sam, cutting the engine.
They waited, bobbing on the waves. Another whale appeared off to one side. This one raised his tail as he dove. Tom could hardly believe how large they were—bigger than elephants. Suddenly the water began to bubble around them. A moment later silvery fish leaped out of the water helter-skelter and churned the surface.
“Watch! Watch!” cried Crabby Sam. “They’re fishing. You’re in for a treat.”
A moment later a whale came shooting out of the water. Straight into the air he leaped, his mouth open wide and his body glistening. For a second he hung in the air, as if standing on his tail, then he fell back into the sea with an enormous splash. The spray showered the whole boat.
Johnny Top squealed as the cold water hit him. For a second he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“That’s good luck,” said Crabby Sam, patting his back. “Getting splashed by a whale brings you lots of luck.”
They watched as the pod made its way southward down the coast. Crabby Sam followed them as they moved closer to land and skirted the lighthouse. The boat had just passed the lighthouse when June Berry saw a young woman with long hair standing on the island looking out to sea. All around her the waters rose and fell restlessly and churned upon the rocks. June Berry was the only one to see her; everyone else was looking at the whales swimming ahead of the boat. June Berry waved, and the woman raised her hand. The boat sank into a swell and for the moment the woman was lost from sight. When the boat rose again she was gone.
Chapter 47
A Thanksgiving Meal
When they got back to the cottage the evening sea mist was already rolling in. It dimmed the light and shrouded the land in silvery-gray. Soon the leaves were dripping water and the grass was wet and glistening. Farmer John and Uncle Finn filled the firebox and piled the wood high. They moved the kitchen table into the living room, joined it to the table in there, and scoured the house for chairs. Tom and June and Veronica helped set the table and bring in the food. Johnny Top sat in his high chair and insisted on sitting next to Gramma. When the table was ready everyone sat down—except Uncle Finn who brought in the turkey with great fanfare and celebration.
“Yea!” cried Tom and June and Veronica.
“Yea, turkey!” cried Johnny Top, clapping his hands.
Farmer John held the plates while Uncle Finn carved up the turkey. Aunt Sally added the vegetables and stuffing.
“What are we thankful for?” asked Gramma. “We all have to say one thing we are thankful for before we eat.”
“Food!” cried Johnny Top, bouncing up and down.
“My family,” said Aunt Sally. “All of you, and my sister in heaven too.”
“I’m thankful for our holiday together,” said Farmer John.
“The sun,” said Veronica. “I’m thankful for the sun. Without it there would be no light or warmth or life.”
“That’s right,” said her dad. “Where would we be without the sun?”
“What are you thankful for?” June Berry asked Uncle Finn.
Uncle Finn scratched his chin. “I’m thankful for the huge fish I caught last month,” he chuckled. Uncle Finn loved fishing.
“And you’re going to take me fishing with you next year,” said Tom. “You promised.”
“I did and I will,” said Uncle Finn. “We’ll go in the spring.”
“I’m thankful for the pearls I found with Tom,” said June Berry, touching the necklace. “And to Tom for letting me keep them for myself.”
Farmer John smiled at Tom.
“I’m thankful for all the creatures in the world,” said Gramma, “big and small, quick and slow.”
“And Lucy,” said Tom.
“And Tiptoes too,” said June Berry.
“Yes, and Lucy and Tiptoes and all the other wee folk too,” said Gramma.
Everyone looked at Tom. It was his turn. He was having a hard time making up his mind what he liked best.
“I’m thankful for Gramma,” said Tom at last. “She’s the best granny ever.”
Gramma laughed and gave Tom a hug and a kiss.
“But without so many slobbery kisses,” said Tom, wiping his cheek and grinning.
Then they ate and made merry—including Tiptoes Lightly who sat, mostly unseen, on Gramma’s shoulder and watched the fun.
“Who knows a Thanksgiving tale?” asked Aunt Sally, when they were having dessert and eating the pumpkin pie.
“I do,” said Uncle Finn. “It came to me yesterday as I was walking through the trees in the woodlot. I saw a turkey there. He spread out his tail feathers in a big fan and said, ‘gobble-gobble-gobble’. He stared at me hard, really hard. Quick as a wink this tale popped into my head. I think that turkey was the one who put it there.”
“Tell us then,” said Veronica, and this is the tale he told.
Chapter 48
The Real Story of the Thanksgiving Turkey
Once upon a time, on the fourth Thursday in November, there was a turkey. He was a big turkey, a plump turkey, a wild American turkey with spreading-out tail feathers. When he spread his tail feathers and did a turkey dance everyone was impressed.
Now this turkey lived in the woods and said ‘thanks’. In those long-ago times that’s what turkeys said, that was their call; there was nothing unusual about it at all—in fact, it was normal. And this is what this particular turkey said, especially when looking for food. He said ‘thanks’ as he ate nuts, ‘thanks’ when eating seeds, ‘thanks’ for worms or grubs, even ‘thanks’ for the fresh green leaves he nibbled as a side salad.
One day—like I said, it was the fourth Thursday in November—this turkey (his name was Tom) was out in the woods. The colorful autumn leaves had fallen from the trees, the air was crisp and clear, and the slanted sun pitter-patterned on the forest floor.
‘Thanks,’ said Tom, scratching the leaf litter and finding three wiggly worms. ‘Thanks, thanks, thanks.’
He was so busy looking for tender morsels that he didn’t notice Doctor Natterly-Ustor-Terrywerri-Sitt sneaking through the trees. Doctor Natterly-Ustor-Terrywerri-Sitt (everyone called him Dr. NUTS) was a lepidopterist—which is the horrible name for people who collect butterflies. People who collect butterflies have to chase butterflies to catch them, and Dr. NUTS loved to chase butterflies and catch them in a net on the end of a long pole. The problem was that Dr. NUTS was shortsighted and only saw things properly if they were really close. I mean REALLY, REALLY close. Which was why Dr. NUTS was not a very good lepidopterist, for he caught all sorts of things in his net which could have been butterflies (if you saw badly), but weren’t. He caught flowers (hundreds and hundreds of flowers); he caught cats (at least two dozen), squirrels (ten), poodles (seven), tiny children (three), goldfish (two) and turkeys (one) and that one was Tom.
‘Aha! Got you!’ cried Dr. NUTS, jumping up and down.
‘Thanks! Thanks!’ squawked Tom in fright, flapping and fluttering inside the net.
‘O, how magnificent! How thrilling!’ gushed Dr. NUTS. ‘A giant, brown-winged Flapncursus,’ and he stuffed the struggling Tom into his backpack, pulled the drawstring tight and headed for home.
Dr. NUTS lived with his mother, the lovely Mrs Natterly-Ustor-Terrywerri-Sitt, and when he arrived home she was about to serve a meal to the whole family: her husband, her sons and daughters, her sisters and brothers, their husbands and wives and children and the various and sundry folk who always manage to wangle their way into a free meal. Dr. NUTS had been invited, of course, but he was shy and awkward in company and had, as his excuse, gone hunting for butterflies late in November, an excuse no one believed.
However, due to the excitement of his capture, he’d forgotten about the gathering and bumbled noisily into the house. He was so busy taking out his catch that he didn’t notice the crowd seated at the long dining room table, and they, in turn, stared in alarmed silence as he fumbled with the drawstring on his pack and undid the knot.
An instant later out flew Tom Turkey in all his feathered glory, frantically screeching ‘Thanks! Thanks! Thanks!’ at the top of his lungs. He immediately flapped and blustered his way down the dinner table, destroying plates, shattering glasses, ruining roasted vegetables and causing all sorts of mayhem. The ladies screamed, the children yelled, the men leaped to their feet. Round and round the room flew Tom, whacking heads, messing up hairdos, and knocking wine bottles off the sideboard.
‘Thanks! Thanks! Thanks!’ screeched Tom, landing on the table with a long slide-n-glide that broke more fine china.
Dr. NUTS was embarrassed and flustered. He dove for the bird, but missed (I already told you he was shortsighted). He slid off the table, still holding the tablecloth and pulled the whole meal onto the floor.
Tom Turkey, meanwhile, feeling his feet being whisked away from under him, again took to the air. Someone, I think it was Mrs NUTS, lunged at him. Tom swerved to the right and with a mighty crash flew through the large window next to the fireplace.
That was the last they saw of Tom Turkey as he flew in haste back to the distant woods, crying ‘Thanks! Thanks! Thanks!’ in alarm.
And that’s how it all started—this Thanksgiving thing, I mean. The next year, the NUTS family again gathered on the fourth Thursday of November, had a huge meal, and gave thanks that there was NO turkey in the house. The tradition continued every year and they called it Thanksgiving. Soon others were copying them, and also telling the story of Dr. NUTS and Tom Turkey. But after a while, like most gossip, the story got changed and turned upside down and people began to eat turkey and give thanks for it and everything else! This is so strange if you know the truth.