The Treasure Cave: sea tales of Tiptoes Lightly

by Down, Reg

  The turkeys, meanwhile, noticed that they were increasingly being hunted just shy of the fourth Thursday in November, and then, to add insult to injury, were thanked while being eaten! That’s when they gave up saying ‘thanks’ altogether. Instead, because they saw people eating so much food, they decided to protest and forever change their call to ‘gobble-gobble-gobble’.

  Chapter 49

  Aunt Sally sees Tiptoes Lightly

  That evening Gramma and Aunt Sally sat with Lucy and the older children round the fire. Farmer John was washing the dishes all by himself. He liked washing dishes when there were lots to do and it was a real job. Uncle Finn was sitting with Johnny Top in the bedroom. They could hear him singing a lullaby to help him sleep.

  “Lullaby,

  Lay your head

  Gently down

  Upon your bed.

  Close your eyes

  Your angel’s here,

  She’s with you now

  For all the years.”

  “Is Tiptoes going to tell another tale?” asked Aunt Sally. She was sitting in an armchair with Veronica on her lap. June Berry was leaning against her legs and Tom was lying on the rug.

  “Let’s call her,” said Gramma—so she did:

  “Tiptoes Lightly, time to tell

  A story that you know so well.”

  Tiptoes appeared on Gramma’s knee. Her dress had changed to silvery blue and her golden wings were edged with silver too. Around her neck was a delicate pearl necklace.

  “Why so silver?” asked Gramma.

  Aunt Sally gave Gramma a puzzled look. She couldn’t see Tiptoes and wondered who she was talking to.

  “I’m silvery because of my tale,” said Tiptoes. “And because it’s going to be a full moon tomorrow night.”

  “And that means we’re going to have spring tides,” said Gramma.

  “Who are you talking to?” asked Aunt Sally, more puzzled than ever.

  “Tiptoes,” the children cried, pointing. “Gramma just called her.”

  “Oh,” said Aunt Sally. “I can’t see her.”

  “Look really hard,” said June Berry. “She’s sitting on Gramma’s knee.”

  Aunt Sally stared hard.

  “Don’t stare, Sally,” said Gramma. “See with your heart.”

  For a moment Aunt Sally didn’t know what Gramma meant. Then she relaxed and saw with her heart.

  “Oh, my gosh,” exclaimed Aunt Sally. “Oh! My! Gosh! I saw her, just for an instant … but she’s gone now.”

  “No, she isn’t,” said Veronica. “She’s still there.”

  Aunt Sally sat quietly and tried to see her again, but couldn’t.

  “What are spring tides?” asked Tom.

  “Spring tides come at new and full moon,” said Gramma. “Then the tides are really low and really high.”

  “When the sea is really low you can find rock pools with lots of different creatures,” said Aunt Sally.

  “What time is low tide tomorrow?” asked Tom.

  Gramma shook her head and so did Aunt Sally. They didn’t know.

  Aunt Sally called through to the kitchen: “John, when’s low tide tomorrow?” Farmer John always knew the tides and where the moon was in the sky.

  “Four o’clock in the afternoon,” called Farmer John. “It’s going to be extra low. We should go down and see it after our train trip.”

  “Thanks. That sounds like a good idea,” Aunt Sally called back, and the kids nodded.

  “Now it’s storytime,” said Veronica, settling into her mom’s arms and looking at Tiptoes.

  Tiptoes had sat patiently during all the chit-chat. Now she smoothed her silver blue dress and began her story.

  “This tale is about the moon and the moon princess,” she said—and then she laughed. Already Aunt Sally’s eyes were gently closing.

  Chapter 50

  Iluna, the Moon Princess

  I have told you of Sister Vive, the Gardener of the Sun, and how she cast seeds down to earth,” said Tiptoes. “One of the sun-seeds she cast was called Iluna. She was one of the Great Ones, the Bright Ones too big and too ripe to become a human being, but also too late in the course of the seasons to become an angel. She had warmth from Kalor the Glowing and light from Vallor the Radiant, but most of all she was filled with life from Vive the Living. Iluna floated above the earth. She never came down from the heights nor wanted to touch the earth. She knew that if she touched the earth she would become a giant slow and dim.”

  “All this was in the time before the earth gave birth to the moon,” said Tiptoes. “Slowly, slowly, the moon was growing inside Asherah the Earth Mother. She became heavy, as all mother’s do, until at last she groaned. She groaned and tossed and reached inside herself and gave birth to her child. She held her Moon Child up to the sun, and cried:

  ‘O, Father Sun,

  Shine upon my child,

  Let her light the night sky,

  Let her walk the day sky,

  Let her be beautiful.’

  Then Asherah the Earth Mother danced, she spun around and around and let her child rise into the sky. Oh, beautiful, beautiful was the Moon Child as she walked across the sky and lit the night with her silvery rays. And O, how the Moon Child loved her mother, Asherah, tender Mother of the Earth. Always and always did the Moon Child gaze upon her mother with a single face. And always and always was the Moon Child’s face full and round and shining in those days after her birth.

  When Iluna saw the Moon Child in the heavens her heart went out to her at once. She cried:

  ‘O, Moon Child,

  Child of the Earth,

  You who shine so silvery and bright,

  You who tread the darkest night

  And walk the light of day,

  Let me touch your beautiful face.’

  But Asherah the Earth Mother said:

  ‘Iluna, Iluna, you are a sun-seed,

  The earth is your home.

  Here you were sent

  By Father Sun

  And the hand of Sister Vive the Living.’

  Iluna wept. She wept bitterly. Day and night her tears fell upon the earth. They moistened the ground and watered the plants and at night they watered the oceans and turned them salty. At last, Asherah saw how much Iluna loved her Moon Child, and cried:

  ‘Iluna, Iluna,

  Go to my Moon Child,

  Be her friend

  And constant companion—

  But how you will you get to her,

  She who soars so high in the sky?’

  Iluna wiped her tears and was glad. Every night, she gathered the silvery moon rays. For long ages she gathered the moon rays from the air, from the clouds, from the glistening oceans and the dew drops upon the grass. She wove them, strand by strand, into a silver ladder. Longer and longer the fine ladder grew until at last, on a night of stars, Iluna climbed to the moon. She cried:

  ‘O, beautiful Moon Child,

  O, Child of the Night,

  Iluna comes climbing,

  Climbing on her silvery ladder.

  She longs to touch your face,

  She longs to take you by the hand,

  She comes in love.’

  Iluna reached out. She touched the Moon’s face and loved her. She held her hand.

  Asherah the Earth Mother looked up. She saw the ladder leading to the moon and called to Iluna: ‘You must be the only one who climbs to my child. Throw down your ladder of woven moonlight.’

  Iluna cast the ladder down. It wavered and twisted in the air. It whipped back and forth like a snake and wrapped itself around the earth. All around the earth it wrapped itself, over the mountains and plains, and fell with a splash into the deep blue sea. Asherah hid the ladder under the ground. There it lies to this day as strands of silver that miners love.

  The next morning, Father Sun awoke and gazed down upon Asherah and her Moon Child.

  ‘What is this?’ he cried. ‘A sun-seed, the great sun-seed, Iluna, has gone to the moon!�
�

  Father Sun was not pleased. Iluna should have stayed on the earth. In his wrath and anger the sun shone brighter and hotter than ever, and the Moon Child called out:

  ‘Mother Asherah,

  Father Sun is angry!

  He shines on me full brightly,

  His anger burns me!’

  There was nothing Asherah could do. She called to Iluna: ‘Iluna, Bright One Full of Life, save my Moon Child. Father Sun is angry that you are with her.’

  So Iluna took the Moon Child’s hand and led her into the shadow of the earth. Now the Moon Child no longer stood in the sun, but neither did she shine at night or walk in the day. She was forever hidden from sight.

  Then Asherah wept. She no longer saw her Moon Child and did not know what to do. She cried:

  ‘Iluna, Iluna, Loving One,

  Am I never to see my child again?

  Am I never to see her lovely face?’

  So Iluna took the Moon Child by the hand; she took her by the hand and slowly led her into the sun’s light. Night by night the Moon Child waxed and grew until, for one whole night, she was round and full and bright. Then bit by bit Iluna led her back into the shadow of the earth until, at last, she rested for one whole night in the darkness.”

  “So it has been ever since,” said Tiptoes. “Iluna the Moon Princess, leads the Moon Child through sunlight and shadow in the course of the year. Asherah was delighted and thought it was a wonderful idea—and so did Father Sun, when he stopped being grumpy. He found it so beautiful that he told Iluna she could dance on the moon in his sunlight whenever she wished.”

  “And if you look closely,” said Tiptoes, “you can still see Iluna dancing in the moonlight if your eyes are quick enough. She has silvery feet, and silvery hair, and wears a silvery dress. And if you are lucky and see her face, you will see the most beautiful silvery eyes gazing back at you.”

  Chapter 51

  Tiptoes wakes June Berry in the Night

  That night, long after the children had been put to bed, Tiptoes went to the children’s bedroom. Tom and June were in the bunk bed and Veronica and Johnny Top slept on foam mattresses on the floor. Silvery moonlight filtered through the lace curtains. Tomorrow the moon would be full. Outside an owl called, ‘Who-hooo…who? Who-whooo…who?’ Tiptoes went to June Berry.

  “June Berry, June Berry, wake up,” she said, pulling on a lock of her hair.

  June Berry stirred and tried to brush Tiptoes away, but Tiptoes flitted out of reach and came back.

  “June Berry, wake up,” said Tiptoes, tugging her hair again.

  June Berry’s eyes fluttered and opened. It took her a moment to wake up. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Tiptoes never woke her unless it was important.

  “It’s the necklace,” said Tiptoes. “I found out who owns it.”

  June Berry sat up. “Who?” she asked.

  “A mermaid,” said Tiptoes. “The Sea King’s daughter.”

  June Berry’s eyes opened wide—then they narrowed. “But Uncle Finn said the pearls are plastic.”

  “He’s wrong,” said Tiptoes. “They’re real.”

  “I thought so,” said June Berry. “They don’t feel like plastic. How did you find out about the mermaid?”

  “I met her,” said Tiptoes.

  “You met her!” exclaimed June Berry. “Where?”

  “Shhhh, don’t wake the others,” said Tiptoes, putting her finger to her lips. “I met her in the lighthouse, the one out beyond the bay. She lives with the lighthouse keeper.”

  “What’s her name?” whispered June Berry.

  “I don’t know,” said Tiptoes. “I never asked her. She let the lighthouse keeper tell their tale. They met when he was a sailor.”

  “Does she know I have the necklace?” asked June Berry.

  “No, I didn’t tell her,” said Tiptoes. “At first I wasn’t sure if it belonged to her, but now I am.”

  June Berry pulled the covers around her shoulders. She reached out and picked up the necklace from the nightstand beside the bed. The pearls were silky smooth and soft to the touch. They gleamed palely in the moonlight. She heard the owl hoot and the grown-ups chatting in the living room.

  “Tell her I’ll give the necklace back,” she said at last. “But Tom has to know too. I’ll tell him in the morning.”

  Tiptoes nodded and left. June Berry lay down again. In her hand she clutched the pearl necklace tightly.

  Chapter 52

  ~ Friday ~

  A Shell on the Shore

  Tiptoes left the cottage and flew out into the morning breeze. The smell of the sea wafted towards her as she soared along the bluffs and glided down to the shore. The tide was in and waves were washing far onto the beach. Sandpipers with long beaks ran in the shallow waters piping high-pitched songs. Out in the surf the last of the pelicans were flying low over the incoming waves.

  On the shore Tiptoes found a seashell newly washed up by the sea. It was the size of a walnut and shaped in a lovely spiral. When she looked inside she saw the walls were tinged pearly pink and glinted with rainbows. Tiptoes slipped inside. Round and round she went, getting smaller and smaller until she wasn’t much bigger than a speck of dust. Just when she thought she couldn’t get any smaller and might have to disappear altogether she came upon a door. It was made of mother of pearl and had a shiny handle.

  “Knock-knock-knock,” went Tiptoes … but nobody replied.

  “Knock-knock-knock,” she went again, and still nobody answered.

  She opened the door. The doorway was tiny, almost as small as nothing at all. Tiptoes took a deep breath, scrunched herself tight, and squeezed through.

  On the other side, the whole world was streaming light and song. The sea was made of water-light and it sang as it flowed. The wind was made of wind-light and it hummed as it blew. The sand was made of sand-light and tinkled as it glinted. Beyond the bluffs the trees were fountains of light lifting upwards and dissolving into the air, and each one sang a different song.

  Tiptoes walked along the shore and listened to the song of the sea. It was filled with many voices singing together: wave voices, surf voices, voices of the deep waters and the voices of the sea spray. The mountains that ran along the coast were colored deep violet with seams of rusty orange. They sang a tone so deep it must have been sounding forever. She came to Pudding Creek flowing into the sea and it too had its own voice. It sang of her mother-mountains with their wooded slopes and waterfalls and rapids that ran into the creek and flowed until it reached the sea. Each of these voices was also light, and a stream of light, and they all wove together most beautifully.

  Tiptoes opened her wings and flew out to sea. The waters were shimmering and transparent and moved with harmony. Above the waves she saw a sea-angel with stars in her hair. It was Pacifica keeping watch over the waves. And far, far below, in the very depths of the sea, she heard the Sea King calling, calling, ‘Where is my daughter, my lovely daughter?” over and over and over again.

  Tiptoes came back to shore and found the sea shell exactly where she had left it. From this side it was a spiral of winding light. She took a deep breath, scrunched herself small, and squeezed through the door.

  “Hey! What are you doing in my house?” cried a feisty little voice.

  Tiptoes was surprised. A sand flea stood glaring at her. He looked annoyed.

  “Sorry,” said Tiptoes. “There was no one here when I came through.”

  “Well, there is now,” said the sand flea, hopping up and down. “It’s finders-keepers you know. That’s the rule: first come, first served! What kind of flea are you anyway? Fleas shouldn’t wear dresses! That’s silly. How can you hop properly?”

  “I really am sorry,” said Tiptoes slipping past the flea and running down the tunnel. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Hey!” shouted the flea hopping after her. “No running in the corridor! That’s the rule! Come back!”

  Tiptoes fled. She ran as fast as she could and f
lew out of the seashell and down the beach.

  “And don’t come again!” shouted the sand flea, leaping into the air and shaking one of his many legs at her—but Tiptoes didn’t hear, she was already high in the sky and laughing too loudly.

  Chapter 53

  Skunk Train

  After breakfast Aunt Sally and Farmer John made up a picnic and put it in two baskets. They were going to go on the Skunk Train.

  “Where’s Tiptoes?” asked June Berry and Veronica, searching from room to room.

  “I don’t know,” said Farmer John. “Perhaps she’s outside.”

  The girls looked in the garden but she wasn’t there, so they had to give up.

  Everyone piled into the cars and drove to the train station in Summer’s Fort. Long ago, before there were cars, the Skunk Train was used by people for traveling inland, and by loggers to haul wood from the forest. Now it was used for day trips into the mountains.

  Farmer John bought tickets while everyone else looked at the steam engine. This one was old. It burned wood to fire a boiler, and the engineer was throwing log after log into the firebox. The engine had huge metal wheels, a big round boiler with a dome on top, and a chimney at the front. Pipes and rods were running everywhere and smoke was pouring from the chimney. Tom was fascinated. He stared and stared.

  The engineer looked down from his cab and wiped his brow. He was sweating from loading the firewood. “You want to ride with me?” he asked Tom. “I’m allowed to take one person and it seems you might be interested.”

  Tom looked at Uncle Finn, who grinned and nodded. So Tom climbed up the ladder to the cab.

  “All aboard!” called the engineer. “All aboard!” and he pulled the whistle: toot-tooooot!

  The passengers climbed on board and got settled. A minute later the train started with a jerk and a clanging of metal. Chuff—chuff—chuff went the engine as it left the station. Toot—toot—tooooooot went the whistle as they crossed Main Street. Tom was the one pulling the whistle. He couldn’t believe his luck to be traveling with the driver. Slowly they skirted the edge of town, sounding the whistle at all the road crossings to warn the cars. They followed Pudding Creek until the line plunged into a tunnel and crossed over to the Noyo River. This they followed until the mountains grew higher on either side as they traveled up the valley. The train twisted and turned and crossed back and forth over the Noyo River and the creeks that fed into it. Now and then they passed old cottages and cleared patches of land from the olden days. Suddenly they came to a mountain spur and dived into a long tunnel. It got very dark, and Tom had to cover his ears it was so noisy. Minutes later they were back in the forest, chugging along. Now and then the engineer opened the firebox and he and Tom threw in more logs to keep the fire going.