Star in the Storm Read online

  “Come on, Marcus.” Pa shook the sleeping man. “Time to come for tea. We’ve got some planning to do, you and I.”

  Marcus mumbled, and his eyes fluttered open.

  “Get up, Marcus,” Pa insisted. “We have some calabogus waiting for you at our house. But first I’ve got an offer for you.”

  Marcus blinked his eyes. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go down for tea.”

  “Come on, now.” Pa pulled Marcus to his feet.

  Marcus looked around. “Now how the dickens did I get up here?” He saw Maggie. “Ah, now I remember. You and that dog.”

  Maggie looked anxiously at her father.

  “It will be all right, Maggie,” Pa said gently. “Marcus and I have some business to talk about. Don’t you worry.” He put an arm around Marcus, and the men walked unsteadily through the tuckamore and down to the road.

  Maggie looked down at Sirius. He was washing his paws with his tongue. I won’t let him know I’m here, she decided, slipping away from the edge. Shadows fluttered overhead. Six black birds soared above her. Ravens? Crows? Whatever they’re called, it’s still six for crying, Maggie thought.

  Back at the house, Pa and Marcus disappeared into the parlor and closed the door. The kitchen smelled sweet, like molasses. Ma was mixing the calabogus mixture with a mundle—a large wooden spoon with which she usually stirred soup.

  Maggie wrinkled her nose. “Ugh! How can anyone drink that? It makes me want to yuck.”

  “Well, molasses is good for you,” Ma acknowledged, “but I don’t think it’s a great idea to give any more liquor to that man in there. Why, he’s as thin as an eggshell, and just as fragile.” Ma set the mundle on the sink.

  “And as dirty as duck’s puddle.” Maggie held her nose. “I don’t suppose he’s changed his clothes in months.” She wondered what kind of plan Pa could possibly have for Marcus.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous sound that echoed off the mountains and rattled the windows. “What was that?” She ran out onto the porch. The sky was clear and blue. Maggie looked toward the harbor. “The iceberg is breaking apart,” she called. People gathered down on the wharves to watch as the great mound of blue ice shattered and collapsed.

  “The harbor looks like it’s full of sailboats,” said Ma.

  “I’m going to tell Vera.”

  Vera was set up in the front room on a cot by the window. She wore a lace bonnet to cover her thin hair. “I heard the iceberg,” she exclaimed. “When it’s all gone, the harbor will be open. And I’ll be better soon, Maggie. We can play together and gather berries, and—”

  “And Pa will get the new boat . . .” Whoops! Did Vera know about the boat? Maggie had said she wouldn’t tell, and now she’d gone and broken her promise.

  “New boat?” Vera’s eyes widened.

  Maggie tried to undo her mistake. “You know how Pa always wanted a new boat. Maybe dreams will come true this summer. Maybe.”

  She sat on the cot next to Vera. “I dreamed about Tamar,” said Maggie. “She rose out of the sea like a monster.”

  Vera laughed. “When I was sick, I dreamed I was flying. I was high above the ground and I could look down on Bonnie Bay.”

  “Pa says someday everyone will fly in those new aeroplanes. Can you imagine?”

  “I’d fly to Toronto,” Vera stated. “That’s where I’d go.”

  “I’d fly to the States,” Maggie said. “To Boston—to a big hospital, where I’d become a nurse.”

  “Wherever we go, we should go together,” Vera said, taking her hand. “Let’s always be together.”

  “Yes,” Maggie agreed. “Always.”

  Maggie had lunch with Vera: Aunt Selina’s ham and pea soup—so thick, a spoon could stand straight up in it—and freshly made Methodist bread, full of plump raisins. Maggie whispered with Vera about the new water source that Sirius found and made her promise not to tell.

  When Maggie got home, Pa and Marcus were still in the parlor, and the calabogus sat untouched in the kitchen. Ma was in the old rocking chair by the stove, knitting on a crazy quilt afghan she had started last fall. It was a conglomerate of leftover yarns and colors, giving it a patchwork appearance—not unlike the plots of land and multicolored houses of Bonnie Bay. If Maggie could fly over Bonnie Bay, she was sure the ground below would look like Ma’s afghan.

  Maggie put her ear up to the closed parlor door but could only hear the low murmur of voices. They’d been in there for over an hour. What could they be talking about for so long?

  Maggie sat down at the table. “Ma, have you heard about the big christening party for the Rands’ grandchild?”

  “Yes, I have. Their daughter Marie is coming by steamer and bringing little Benjamin the Saturday after next. With the iceberg gone, they should be able to get right into the harbor. It’s too bad her husband can’t come, but I hear he had to go up to the Labrador.”

  “Tamar said we aren’t invited to the christening party.”

  “Reverend Dobbs asked me to help with refreshments,” Ma said.

  “Are you going to make refreshments when you’re not even invited to the party?”

  “Well, it’s the Christian thing to do.” Ma’s fingers danced with her yarn and needles. “Maybe it will help make some peace here.”

  How could Ma be so mild about this? The Rands had threatened to kill Sirius, and now Ma was making refreshments for them? It didn’t make any sense.

  Just then the parlor door opened. Pa came into the kitchen with Marcus behind him. Pa gestured for Marcus to sit down. “Grace, would you pour us some tea, my dear?”

  Ma put down her knitting. “Tea?” she asked.

  “Yes, Grace. Just tea, please,” Marcus replied.

  Maggie looked over at Marcus. His thin, unshaven face was swollen, and his eyes were red. She couldn’t believe it. Marcus Kelly had been crying!

  THE GALE

  MAGGIE NEVER DID FIND OUT just what Pa had said to Marcus that day in the parlor, but from that day on, Marcus showed up at the Wellses’ door first thing every morning. Pa and Marcus worked together fishing, mending nets, and patching up the wharf for the new boat.

  It was busy on the stages now that the iceberg no longer blocked the harbor. Some of Rand’s crew had already begun heading out to sea. Soon The Grace would be docked in Bonnie Bay. Uncle Norm and Otto were investing in the new boat and looking forward to being on their own at last.

  On Monday, before heading to the quidnunc to tend Sirius, Maggie went to Art’s store for Ma. Cliff was there with Otto.

  “How are you, Maggie?” Cliff asked. He was dressed in the coveralls and boots of a fisherman. “We’re going out jigging this morning. Want to come?”

  “No, thanks,” she said. She had no time to sit around in a boat while Otto and Cliff jigged for codfish all morning.

  “It’s nice out there today,” said Otto. “Not a flobber. Not a wag of sea.”

  “But I hear on the wireless there’s a big nor’easter heading up the coast,” said Art. “It’s battering Nova Scotia and should get here by week’s end.”

  “Maggie, did you hear that the law against dogs has been passed?” Otto asked. Maggie shook her head. “Yep, it’s official. Only sheepherding dogs are allowed in these parts anymore.”

  How could this happen? Now Sirius was in more danger than ever.

  Cliff sensed her dismay. “Come with us, Maggie,” he coaxed.

  “I’m helping Ma,” Maggie answered abruptly, and handed Art the list of groceries.

  “Bones?” Art asked, looking at the list. “Your mother wants bones? What for? I thought your dog was gone.”

  “He is gone,” Maggie replied hastily. “Ma’s making soup.”

  Art nodded and gathered the groceries.

  “Well, Maggie,” said Otto, “I hear there will be a new teacher in the fall. She’s due to arrive on the steamer.”

  “For a while it looked like there would be no one to teach next year,” Art said. “Wou
ldn’t that be just too bad?”

  Maggie nodded. “I wonder if she knows she’ll be teaching kids from first grade to eleventh grade all in the same classroom.” She grinned. “No wonder teachers leave all the time.”

  “Well, they’re not trained teachers,” Otto replied. “They’re just young ones from other parts of Newfoundland who’ve finished their grades and have no jobs yet.”

  “From what I’ve heard, Cliff here should be teaching school himself,” said Art as he wrapped some bones in brown paper. “You’re a bright lad, my boy.”

  Cliff blushed and looked down at the floor. “Aw, I’m just a blear—an ignorant coot from Labrador,” he muttered. “I don’t have real schooling.”

  “You can read better than anyone I know. Once the new teacher gives you some tests, we’ll have a better idea where you stand academically.” Otto nodded at Art. “Care to take any bets on the grades this boy will make on his exams?”

  “He’ll do right well,” Art said. “Maybe you’ll go to McGill and become a doctor, Cliff.”

  “Or Harvard,” Otto added.

  “Someday I’m going to Boston,” Maggie interjected.

  Art plunked a can of cream on the counter and began adding up the prices to put on the Wellses’ bill. “You’re just a girl, Maggie. You’ll stay here and marry a fisherman, and that’ll be your life.”

  “I will go to the States and become a nurse!” Maggie countered. “Dr. Auld said I’d be a nurse someday. Those were his very words.” Yes, that’s exactly what she would do. Maggie grabbed the parcel from the counter and headed out the door.

  Maggie heard footsteps behind her. “I’ll walk with you, Maggie.” It was Cliff.

  She paused and waited for him to catch up. “I thought you were going jigging.”

  Cliff laughed. “Once Otto gets talking, who knows when we’ll get out there. Here, let me carry your parcel.” Maggie handed it to him gratefully. “I miss seeing your dog,” he said, stuffing the package under his arm.

  “I miss him, too.” She wondered if he would ask where she was keeping Sirius. Then what would she say?

  “You know, if you could prove he’s a sheepherding dog, no one could harm him,” Cliff said. “The new law exempts sheepdogs.”

  “But he’s not a sheepdog. He’s never been trained to herd sheep. Besides, the Rands are the only people with sheep here. I can just imagine the Rands letting my dog work their sheep,” Maggie snorted.

  “Just a thought,” Cliff said with a shrug. “He’s such a clever dog, Maggie.”

  As much as she liked Cliff, Maggie couldn’t tell him where Sirius was hidden. For a while the only sound was the trudging of their footsteps along the dusty road. From the corner of her eye, Maggie looked at Cliff. He had an angular jaw and high cheekbones. His blond hair had a way of slipping over his forehead when he moved. This was a right nice-looking boy, Maggie decided.

  “Maggie, wait!” Otto ran up behind them. “Your pa got a wireless message from St. John’s,” he said. “Art just wrote it up. Here.” He handed an envelope to Maggie. “It has to do with the new boat.”

  Maggie nodded. “Pa’s at home,” she said, “waiting on Marcus.”

  Otto smiled. “Those two are as thick as tar lately. And Marcus has never looked so well. What did your pa do to him?”

  “I don’t know,” Maggie said. “I’ll bring this straight home. Pa will be eager to see if the boat is ready.” No secrets from Otto. He was already part of the crew. And surely Otto had told Cliff, since he seemed to know what they were talking about. But how she longed to see Howard Rand’s face when The Grace pulled into Bonnie Bay.

  As if reading her thoughts, Cliff said, “Mr. Rand will be more than huffed when the rumor about the new boat becomes a reality. He’s already worried about losing his crew.”

  “He knows it’s not just a rumor. That’s why he’s throwing such a big party after the christening.” Otto laughed. “He’s not one to fling money around without a reason.” As he started back to the wharves, Otto winked at Cliff. “We’ll go fishing when you get through with Maggie.”

  Maggie flushed and looked down at her dusty boots. “You don’t need to walk with me,” she said softly.

  “I want to,” Cliff answered. “I’ve been thinking about you and Sirius. You must feel awful about losing him.”

  “I do,” she said. “Pa said he’d talk to Joey Harper—that’s the constable—but he’s been too busy. Now he’ll go off to get the new boat and he won’t be here to help me hide—” She stopped. She had almost given away her secret. “I mean . . . I’ll still have to wait for him to speak to Joey Harper.”

  They reached Maggie’s house. Pa and Marcus were sitting on the porch. She thrust the message at her father. “It’s for you.”

  Pa ripped open the envelope and read the note. “It’s ready!” His words rang out like a trumpet. “We’re off to St. John’s today. If we can get to Whale’s Gulch, we can take the steamer.” He turned to Cliff. “Please, my boy, go back to Art’s store and ask him to send a wireless ahead for me. We’ve got to get ready right quick if we’re going to make that ship.”

  Cliff nodded, waved to Maggie, and ran down the road. “I’ll help Otto get the wagon ready,” he called over his shoulder.

  Marcus leaped from the chair. “I’m going with you.”

  “Of course you are. You’re one of the crew now, Marcus. Go pack your duds. We’ll be gone a few days.”

  So, he’s one of the crew, thought Maggie as she watched Marcus trot up the road to his green house. That must have been part of Pa’s plan for Marcus all along.

  For the next hour the Wells family hustled to help Pa get ready for the trip. Maggie wrapped up some bannock bread, bake apple jam, and a bottle of switchel. Ma gathered warm, clean clothing and packed it into a canvas bag.

  Otto and Cliff arrived with the horse and wagon. “Cliff said you’d probably need a ride down to the steamer,” said Otto. “You’ll be coming back on that new boat!”

  “Watch for her comin’ around the neck,” Pa said, giving his wife a quick hug and kiss. “We’ll be back by week’s end. Maggie, watch over your ma. Help her out, maid.”

  Maggie put her arms around her father and tried to hold back her tears. “Oh, Pa. I hope nothing happens to Sirius while you’re gone.”

  “Everything will be all right, my child,” he whispered.

  “Pa, I saw six ravens—six of them, for crying.”

  Pa took his daughter’s hand. “Maggie, the ravens—crows—they don’t foretell your future, my child. I’ve told you before, we make our own futures. The Bible says there’s a time for everything under the sun. A time to laugh and a time to cry; a time to mourn and a time to skip about and dance. That little verse about the ravens—or crows—is just a reminder, that’s all.”

  “Will we ever feel safe and laugh again?” she asked.

  “You’ll laugh again, my Maggie. I promise you.” He turned to Otto. “While I’m gone, maybe you can start digging the trench for the spring.”

  “Aye.” Otto nodded. “We’ll have that water piped to the houses before autumn comes.”

  Pa turned to Cliff. “And you, Cliff, keep an eye on Maggie for me.”

  Marcus loped down the road, his arms loaded with a seabag. “I’m comin’. Wait up for me.” Lucy and Annie followed him partway, then stood at the bend in the road, waving. Marcus climbed on board the wagon, and Otto clicked the reins. The wagon started slowly toward the village.

  “Good-bye, Pa,” Maggie called.

  Overhead, a flock of gulls soared high, calling loudly to each other, and Maggie whispered the old proverb: “ ‘When gulls fly high, a gale is nigh.’ ”

  Then she recalled Art’s words: “There’s a big nor’easter heading up the coast. . . . Should get here by week’s end.”

  SHIPWRECK!

  Grace is ready to go. She’s a beauty.

  Leaving Thursday. Will be home before storm.

  Don’t worry.
/>
  Reuben.

  MA CLAPPED HER HANDS. “PA is on his way home,” she said. “He left yesterday. This is so exciting, Maggie. All our dreams are coming true. Pa is master of his own vessel.”

  Didn’t Art say the gale battering Nova Scotia was a threat to Newfoundland? “Would Pa dare start out with the threat of a storm?” Maggie asked anxiously.

  “He’s so eager to get back, he just might take that chance,” Ma said. “But he knows these waters like the back of his hand. He’ll pull into port if it gets rough. He’ll be just fine.”

  Just then Lucy Kelly knocked on the door. Annie stood behind her. “When will my Marcus be back?” Lucy called out. “There’s a storm brewing.

  “They headed back yesterday.” Ma showed Lucy the telegram, then invited them inside. “Look at the weatherglass,” she said, pointing to the glass teapot-shaped object on the wall. “There’s no sign of a storm yet.” The blue-colored water was low in the spout, indicating high pressure and fair weather.

  Somewhat relieved, Lucy slumped into a chair and looked around. “I don’t know how you keep everything so tidy, Grace,” she said enviously. “I can never get things right at our house.”

  “I’m sure you’ve been busy helping the Rands out with the christening party,” said Ma, setting the kettle onto the stove.

  “Yes. The Rands did hire me to help. They are so excited about the baby. First grandson, you know. So Howard Rand has invited everyone in town, let me tell.”

  “Well, not everyone,” said Annie as she settled herself into the rocker.

  Ma just laughed. “No, we haven’t had the honor. But I’m making some cookies for the affair.”

  “Really?” said Lucy and Annie together. Lucy spotted Grace’s afghan on the back of the rocker and reached out to touch it. “Real nice and soft,” she said, “like a baby blanket.”

  “The colors are pretty,” Ma agreed. “I want to finish it up in time for the christening.”

  Maggie forced herself to stay quiet. How could Ma give the Rands a present after all the trouble they’d caused!

  Lucy seemed surprised herself. “That’s right kind of you, Grace,” she said. “And I don’t know what Reuben has done with my Marcus, but he’s a different man lately.” She looked briefly at Annie and then went on. “He hasn’t touched a drink since their talk.”