Thunder from the Sea (17 page)

“If God sent him, why is He taking him away?”

“Because it's time. And now we need to do what's right.” Enoch got up to leave the room. “I know you'll do the right thing, Tom.” He closed the door quietly.

t
om was sitting on the porch with Thunder and Fiona when a sleek white yacht came into Rumble Reach and pulled up to the Rideouts' wharf.

“Take a look at that beauty,” Fiona said. “Never saw the likes!”

Amos and Bert came running up from where they had been working on the new dock. “It's him!” Bert yelled. “I know it's him. No one from around these parts has a ship like that!”

Thunder sat up and barked at the excitement.

“Enoch's goin' over to meet 'im,” Amos said. “He'll bring 'im over here.”

“Do somethin'!” Bert ordered. “Hide the dog!”

Tom got up and went into the parlor. He didn't want to be around the Bosworths. Especially now.
He peeked out the window and saw Bert and Amos patting Thunder and talking to each other. Fiona followed Tom inside, and the two of them sat together on the couch. She held his hand as they waited quietly for Enoch and Mr. Fowler.

The parlor clock ticked loudly as they waited, each minute seeming like an age. Yet Thunder was silent now. Did he recognize Mr. Fowler and that's why he wasn't barking?

Enoch came in the house with a tall, slim gentleman. “This is Mr. Fowler,” he said, introducing the man to Fiona and Tom.

As Mr. Fowler shook Tom's hand, he said, “Your father told me how well you've taken care of my dog.”

“Thunder took good care of
us
,” Tom answered.

“I've heard stories from everyone about Shadow,” he said. “That's what I call him. When he was a puppy he followed me everywhere, like a shadow.”

Fiona spoke up. “He follows our Tom like a shadow!”

“Mr. Fowler, Thunder and I were both orphans,” Tom said. “Since then we've been adopted by
Enoch and Fiona. This is Thunders home now.”

April started to cry and Fiona went into the bedroom to get her.

“I understand how you're feeling only too well,” Mr. Fowler said. “I love that dog too, and I was heartbroken when he was lost overboard in that god-awful storm. You can imagine how happy I was to hear he was rescued.”

“Thunder is our hero. He saved every family on the whole island during the tidal wave,” Fiona said, returning with April. “And have you heard how he and Tom brought me safely across the harbor when I was ready to give birth?” She held the baby close to Mr. Fowler. “Can you imagine what would have happened to April, without Thunder?”

Mr. Fowler looked down at the baby, who was sucking her thumb, and he sighed.

“God knew we would need him,” Fiona went on. “That's why he was saved and why he came to live with us.”

“Of course, we aren't really sure that Thunder and Shadow are the same dog,” Enoch pointed out.

Mr. Fowler said, “What other dog would be
swimming out there that very day in that very storm?”

“Even if Thunder really
is
your dog, please don't take 'im away from us,” Tom begged, his eyes brimming. He tried not to blink, but the tears slipped down his cheeks all the same.

Mr. Fowler was silent for a while. Then he said, “Let's see the dog. That's the only way we can tell once and for all if it really is my Shadow.”

“Didn't you see him as you came in?” Tom asked. “He was on the porch with Amos and Bert.”

“No,” said Enoch. “They weren't there.”

“Where
is
Thunder?” Fiona asked.

“I'll go find them,” Enoch said.

At that moment Amos and Bert came through the front door with Thunder. “We just took 'im for a little walk,” Amos said.

Thunder bounded in and jumped up on Tom, lapping his face. “I'll be a pickled puddick!” Tom whispered.

“Great Neptune's tongue,” Enoch muttered.

Fiona gasped and seemed unable to speak.

The white zigzag lightning streak on Thunder's chest was gone!

Thunder trotted over to Mr. Fowler. He tilted his head quizzically and sniffed the man. Then, tail wagging, Thunder turned and settled at Tom's feet.

Mr. Fowler looked the dog over. “This can't be Shadow,” he said. “My dog had a white flash on his chest, right about here.” He traced the fur where the spot would be. When he withdrew his hand, Tom could see a black smudge on the man's finger. Mr. Fowler saw it too. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his hands, then looked up at Bert and Amos.

He knows
, Tom thought.
He probably believes we've tried to trick him.

Enoch stood up quickly. “Mr. Fowler … I hope you're not thinkin' …”

Without a word Mr. Fowler went out to the porch. Enoch started after him, but Mr. Fowler waved him off and closed the door.

Enoch turned around swiftly and glowered at Amos and Bert. “How could you do such a thing! Mr. Fowler knows that's tar on Thunder's chest! Now he thinks we're deceivin' him.”

“We were only tryin' to help,” Amos stammered. He took Bert by the sleeve. “Come on, son, let's go.”

Bert looked over at Tom. “We was hopin' to rightify things,” he said. “After all, it's our fault that Mr. Fowler showed up to claim Thunder.”

Tom nodded. “I know. Thanks for tryin' anyways.”

“I guess we've caused enough trouble around here,” Amos said as they went out the door.

From the window Tom could see them sidestep Mr. Fowler, who was sitting on the stairs.

“What is Mr. Fowler doing?” Fiona asked.

“He's just sittin' there on the steps, lookin' out at the sea,” Tom answered.

Mr. Fowler was sure to take Thunder away now, especially after what Bert and Amos just did. Tom sank to his knees again and threw his arms around the dog. “Mr. Fowler is gonna take you away, Thunder. He came all this way 'cause he loves you too.” Thunder whined and licked Tom's ear. “God gave you to us 'cause He knew we needed you. But now it's time for you to go.” Tom's voice broke and he sobbed into Thunder's neck.

When he looked up, Mr. Fowler was standing in the doorway.

“You've been good to this dog, haven't you? I can see he loves you.”

Tom nodded. “He's my best friend.”

Mr. Fowler bent down and petted Thunder's head. “You're a fine dog, Thunder, and I wish you were mine. But you're not. You really are Tom's dog. You belong with him and he belongs with you. And that's the way it was meant to be.”

Was Tom hearing correctly? “Do you mean—”

“He's your dog,” said Mr. Fowler, patting Tom's shoulder. “Take good care of each other.”

“We will, sir.” Tom reached out and shook Mr. Fowler's hand over and over. “Thank you. Thank you!”

“I'll be on my way now—” the man said.

“But—” Fiona interrupted, looking perplexed.

“I'll see Mr. Fowler out,” Enoch interrupted before she could say any more. He held the door open.

Mr. Fowler nodded to Fiona, shook April's little hand, and went out.

“Did you hear that, Thunder?” Tom cried. “Mr. Fowler says you're really my dog. He's not takin' you away from us.” Thunder lapped Tom's face. “You clever, old slyboots.”

When Enoch came back in, Fiona looked troubled. “We weren't honest, Enoch. We knew
Amos and Bert had painted Thunder's lightning streak.”

“Mr. Fowler knew too,” said Enoch. “The last thing he said to me was, ‘Be sure to get that tar off Thunder's chest!'”

“He's a right good and kind man, that Mr. Fowler,” Fiona said with a smile.

“As good a man as ever slung suspenders over his shoulders,” Enoch agreed.

They went to the porch and waved as Mr. Fowler's boat backed into the harbor, then headed out to the sea.

“Well, we're a complete family now,” Enoch said. “A mother”—he smiled at Fiona—“a father, a son, a daughter—”

“And a dog,” Tom added.

Thunder barked and wagged his tail.

In Fiona's arms April began to cry again. “Too much excitement for our little girl.” Fiona put April in Tom's arms. “Here, why don't you put her in the cradle.”

Tom carried April to her room, Thunder following at his heels.

“Sh,” Tom whispered as he set his sister down.
“Everything is all right now.” Then he pulled the pocket watch from his pocket and tucked it under her pillow. “
Falalalee. Falalaloo.
” Tom sang softly.

April sucked her finger. Her eyes gradually closed as Tom rocked the cradle. Thunder curled up on the rug next to the baby.

“
Falalalee. Falalaloo
”

The characters and plot in
Thunder from the Sea
are fictional. However, some of the events that take place in this book are real.

In my story Tom Campbell is an orphan from the Grenfell Mission in St. Anthony on the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. This internationally famous mission, hospital, and orphanage was founded in the early 1900s by Sir Wilfred Grenfell. The orphanage housed about seventy children from the Labrador and the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. The mission's hospital ship,
Strathcona I
, would travel to outports in Labrador and the Northern Peninsula to help the sick and poor inhabitants. In later years, my cousin, Norman Small, became captain of a newer
Strathcona
.

If ever you visit the National Cathedral in
Washington, D.C., be sure to see the stained glass window known as the “Physicians' Window” by artist Wilbur H. Burnham. In the center Christ is portrayed as “the Great Healer.” On his left is Louis Pasteur and on his right is Sir Wilfred Grenfell.

Animals—dogs in particular—are instinctively aware and, at times, can warn of coming disasters like earthquakes. Perhaps they feel the ground beginning to rumble beneath their feet even before the earthquake is apparent to people.

The earthquake and tidal wave really happened in November of 1929 on the Burin Peninsula in southeastern Newfoundland. Many people were killed and houses, ships, docks, and a church were destroyed. As in the novel, some folks raced to the beach to pick up the stranded fish just before the tidal wave swept down upon them.

The trek Tom and Fiona make through the snowstorm to get to the doctor is similar to the dogsled journey my cousin, Margaret, made in the 1950s. She too traveled over a frozen bay in Newfoundland to get to the hospital to have her baby. When she returned home on the dogsled,
her baby was carried in a “biscuit box” like the one that Fiona uses for April.

The tradition of mummers, or jannies, is an ancient one dating back centuries. The celebration or carnival of “mummering” was usually carried on between Christmastime and Twelfth Day. This celebration had little to do with the birth of Christ, but was a carryover from the ancient Roman celebration of the Saturnalia, which takes place at the winter solstice. In Celtic Ireland the solstice was also a time when people disguised in masks and foolish costumes went from house to house to sing and dance with weird shouts and cries and high-pitched “jannie talk.” Oftentimes they enacted the traditional “Mummer's Play,” which included characters such as Pickle Herring and the Fool. Horsy-hops, also known as Hobby Horse, was a weird figure bearing the head of a horse with a mouth that clanked open, displaying iron teeth. Mummering was often boisterous and rowdy and was banned in Newfoundland in 1892 as a “public nuisance.” People who continue with this tradition often ask to be invited into the house they are visiting by inquiring, “Good
mummers allowed?” Mummers or jannies usually speak with inhaled breath and high-pitched voices and run all their words together to keep their disguises.

Cheek music, also called chin music or mouth music, is made by singing nonsensical syllables that rhyme and have rhythm. You probably have sung cheek music many times without knowing it. “Bippity boppity boo” from Disney's
Cinderella
is a good example of cheek music. Another is the Irish lullabye, “Toora loora loora.” And of course Mary Poppins's “Supercalafragalisticexpialidocious!”

The colorful language, superstitions, and folklore in this story have been collected from all over Newfoundland. The pronunciation of certain words and the meanings of some lore vary from one harbor or village to another. I've gathered them together and given them to my characters who dwell on the imaginary island of Back o' the Moon and in the fictional outport of Chance-Along.

A dog who was rescued from an Atlantic gale was the inspiration for Thunder. Several years ago I read the tale of a beautiful Newfoundland
dog named Prince, who disappeared overboard from a fishing boat in a wild Atlantic storm in 1897. The owners gave him up for lost, but amazingly the dog survived and was rescued by a Gloucester, Massachusetts, vessel and taken back to Gloucester, where the schooner that saved him became his home. He sailed many voyages on that ship and good fishing was always attributed to Prince. However, years later, when the skipper was about to take another voyage, the dog refused to go. He strained to get away and barked loudly, as if in protest. The crew went without him—and never returned. Was Prince giving a warning to the Gloucester schooner and its crew?