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| Peggy's Cove Lighthouse, Nova Scotia , Canada |
The Atlantic tide was at ebb and the cousin-twins leapfrogged from giant rock to giant rock along the natural reef-like conglomerate of rock just off the shoreline. They were scavengers hunting dulse. Here some, there some, gathering it all into a huge black, plastic garbage bag. Later they would dry it out in the sun and repackage it all in allotments for winter time health snacks.
"Ugh!" thought Charlotta, "Who wants to eat seaweed!" Well, she could, at least, have fun collecting.
Chanella's thoughts were vastly different as she eagerly gathered and anticipated the "tasty iodine-clad morsels". "Yum!" she thought with vigor.Each, busy with her own thoughts, felt a companionable atmosphere, enjoyed the fresh salt air and ocean breezes and the unusual sunshine. Usually it was foggy hereabouts. So busy were they, in fact, they'd transgressed mortal ocean side survival safety cardinal rule # 1-"Watch the advancing tide!! Don't get stranded!!" An incoming wave heaving and bashing against the rock, flinging it's spray in a shower over them finally alerted them to their perilous mistake.
To make matters worse, the girls felt the sun cool as a curtain of ubiquitous fog swirled in, threatening to engulf them. There was no doubt in either mind they were in TROUBLE spelt all in capital letters.
"Jesus, help us!" The girls shouted as they scanned for the best route to hopeful safety. Their rock island was shrinking fast. They spotted Sharkie, the pre-teen with bucked teeth, far up on the escarpment above the rock line. He was usually in a world of his own and wouldn't be helpful because of it they thought, but out of desperation they shouted at him. They waved their hands wildly at him as he nonchalantly lowered his ever present binoculars after he'd gotten them in his sights. He wildly waved back.
"Sharkie, help" the cousins screamed in unison. He was getting harder to see in the swirling fog.
"Ok, ok, I'll help," he shouted.
He had a small dory they knew and was adept at maneuvering it but he was also not able to think too straight. A small dory was vulnerable in openly forceful Atlantic waters. "Sharkie," they shouted again, "get someone to help. Don't come on your own!" Silence was their only response.
But they had prayed and he seemed to be the only link to an answer so they had to trust God for the outcome, especially since they couldn't see him for the engulfing fog dubiously cocooning them.
Charlotta and Chanella only had a small perch for their feet now on the rock they'd been able to launch themselves upon. They clung to each other and Chanella to her garbage bag of precious dulse. "Why not get rid of the bag," Charlotta shivered out. "NO!" snapped Chanella, immediately contrite at her tone.
"We might have to make a swim of it to shore you know" Charlotta said. "How will you swim with that lot?" Pause. Think. "We might have a chance of it if the waves are obliging and push us in," she continued.
"Yeah, well the waves more likely will suck us under and out and bash us against the rocks. I intend to have a cushion of dulse and/or a dulse flotation device; whichever is needed." Chanella countered. "Besides, I also intend to survive and eat it all come winter."
This was no time to quarrel so they kept quieter and quieter as the water covered their rock and climbed their legs. They were having trouble keeping their balance with each shove of another relentless Atlantic Ocean wave.
"I think we better try to swim now," Charlotta said quietly, trying not to panic. "I do hope Sharkie didn't try it on his own. I'm worried for him." She was crying softly now.
"Come, Chanella, jump in on three but let me hold onto you. Don't get separated. You still want to hang on to the dulse?! Can't you at least tie it onto your belt or something? You need your hands free and kick your feet like mad!"
In response, Chanella stuffed the bag under her loose fitting T-shirt, tucked in her shirt and cinched in her belt a notch. Good thing she had decided to wear the belt today she thought soberly.
The water had now risen to their waists, it was time to dive into it in a controlled direction before it knocked them off anyway, any which way. They held hands, asked for God's help again and splashed in, making for the direction they thought was shore.
Strange though. Why didn't they hear the bellowing fog horn and why couldn't they even get a flashing glimpse from the lighthouse? "Oh God help us!" was in both their minds as they fought through the water.
Meanwhile Sharkie took off at top trot. "It looks bad" he thought. "Those girls shouldn't be there like that. Have to do something." That's when he thought of his dory. He knew he wasn't allowed to take it without his Mom's permission but "this is bad, have to do something fast." He ran then to his Dad's boathouse. He could faintly see the outline of his dory resting on the skids on the bit of sandy shore beside the boathouse through the fog. Where was his Dad? He's normally here working on something. His mind was troubled now; "He had to tell Mom. NO, but those girls need help fast...Tell Mom...Help the girls."
Suddenly he slid the dory off the skids, turned it upright and shoved it towards the water. The tide was very high now but in this little cove the water was calm so it made him feel better. "Oh, I need my life jacket." He ran and got it from the boathouse. "Hmmm. Dad must have been here. He's got half a mug of coffee on the work bench."
Sharkie thought some more. "Those girls don't have life jackets. I'll take Dad and Mom's. Big. Never mind. Better take them." He ran back to the dory and dropped them in.
"Oh, where are my oars?...Oh, yeah, Dad stores them up high on the boat house wall." He went back into the boat house. "How was he to get them down?" "Have to hurry. Have to hurry."" He fidgeted, wringing his hands together even as he acted.
He found a fish slop bucket turned it upside down and stood on it below where the oars rested on brackets on the wall. He reached up but lost his balance, fell and hurt his arm. "Never mind. Have to hurry. Have to hurry." He scrambled up and tried again. He couldn't reach the oars. That's when he spied the ladder. He scurried about and placed the ladder where the slop bucket had been, climbed up and claimed his oars just as his Dad clambered in.
"What are you doing, Sharkie?! Did you ask Mom? I don't think she'd let you go out in the cove in this fog!" his Dad gently chided.
Sharkie was confused, "Have to hurry. Have to hurry." he said. "The girls..."
"What girls, Sharkie?" his Dad asked sharply.
"The girls. They're in the water. Not good. Have to hurry."
"Where Sharkie, where?" his father buzzed with alarm.
"Dulsing" Sharkie answered. His father knew where and that alarmed him more! "Sharkie, you put your dory back on the skids." he commanded. "Get the life jackets back and come to the house NOW! I'll call Search and Rescue."
Sharkie hesitated. "Go now!" He said, "in the dory. Have to hurry!"
"NO!" thundered Dad. "To the house and Mom, NOW!?"
Sharkie started to cry but obeyed. He was relieved he could tell his Dad though. "Dad is a big man. Dad could think better." He raced home, his Dad already 30 paces ahead.
Dad put in the call to the Search and Rescue stationed in the next bigger village up the coast, raced back down the path to the boathouse, found some rope and old tires, flung the dory onto the skids, and ran like a speeding bullet train to the dulsing cliff.
Dad peered unsuccessfully through the fog for the girls. Sharkie hadn't known which girls but if he didn't miss his guess, it would be Chanella. Everyone knew she was crazy about dulse like most of the folks in those parts, only more so. She had her cousin-twin visiting too, what was her name...Charlotte or something like that...he'd bet any money it'd be those two.
"Oh God, let them be ok. Help us find them." Sharkie's Dad prayed. He wasn't much into talking to God since his own Dad got lost at sea so long ago when God didn't bring him back when he'd asked, but he was afraid for these girls and thought he'd give it a try; anything to bring them home safely.
The girls swam frantically at first but slowed to conserve energy. The dulse device kept skewing off to the side or gravitating up and out the neckline, even trying to turn Chanella onto her back as she fought forward through the ebb and flow of the ever increasing strength and swell of the waves. They hadn't really been that far from the shore and trail up the cliff but they were getting disoriented and tossed about by the ocean's force and current and the irritating fog.
Charlotta, the weaker swimmer was tiring fast. It didn't help that the cold Atlantic cooled and cramped their muscles into tight spasms. Charlotta was shivering. Her eyes told Chanella she couldn't go on. Chanella's eyes begged her to keep moving; even treading water for a while would help. Now and again she thought she heard someone shouting and attempted to shout back only to get a huge mouthful of salt water and splutter what she didn't swallow, back out. Chanella strove to steer them both in the direction of the shouts only to be buffeted about and lose point.
At long last they butted up against a jutting out of land they were not familiar with, at least in the bank of murky fog. Just in time too as Charlotta had gone limp. Chanella had to drag her cousin up the pebbly shore to more rocks at which the ocean was intent on claiming but as yet unable. She was happy to see her cousin's chest still rising and falling. They could afford some rest. Rest, sweet rest. She'd give them five minutes before she moved them to safer and dryer ground. The rocks were pretty slippery with wet seaweed here too, making their situation still precarious.
But, oh, five minutes of rest...
The ocean was nipping at them again. Chanella told herself to press on. She adjusted her bag of dulse, clasped Charlotta from behind and under her arms and slipped and slid her way backwards up to greater safety, rock by slippery rock.
"Hmmm...what is that?!"
"Charlotta, wake up!" Chanella slapped at her cousin's cheek. "Wake up!" Charlotta moaned and shivered some more. "Come on, Charlotta, you've got to move on you own." Charlotta roused, rolled over and released a gush of ocean water she'd also been compelled to gulp in as they'd swum. Gush again. Chanella actually felt the same urge but managed to control. She was more curious at what she'd spotted. Some sort of hidden treasure?
She was also still concerned about Charlotta though, so knelt beside her, lending her sympathy and to ensure she stayed awake. The wind, chill on their wet coldness, didn't help any either but at least they could shelter behind some rock; especially behind those rocks where those unidentified crates were mysteriously placed. Yes, 'placed.' They were too neatly put to have been tumbled so nicely by the ocean's reaches.
The girls' teeth were chattering as they poked about the crates, trying to pry up the lids with their shaking, shivering fingers. "Wonder what's inside" they asked through clicking teeth, as if tapping out Morse code to each other.
They heard rough voices in the distance closing in on them. They couldn't see through the fog but sensed immediate danger and scrambled away in the other direction but their shivering limbs shook them, restricting their movements. They slithered and slide, scraping their knees and cutting their hands on the rocks, slowing their progress even more, and giving their presence away.
The course voices were upon them. "Well, lookie here buddy! What 'ave we; snooping snipes!" The unpleasant voices materialized out of the foggy haze into Bootlegger Bert and his sidekick, Bobbie Bob; two of the meanest men in the village.
The girls were galvanized into further retreat but too late. The men grabbed them and yanked them back by their arms unceremoniously. "Ain't these the 'twins' their lookin' fer, buddy?" Bobbie Bob asked.
"Ho, ho, ho," Bootlegger Bert roared with glee as if it were Christmas and he was Santa. "Ho, ho, ho! Ain't this a wonderful catch o' fish! Search and Rescue ain't goin' ter find these mermaids today. But look, their shiverin' and a shakin'. Git 'em warmed up there Bobbie Bob."
"Give 'em some of your whisky right down the ole hatch Bobbie. Warm 'em up good, I say. Ole Bootlegger Bert is a goin' ter 'ave 'isself some fun. What's more, make a pretty penny off each of 'em come day after next when the Feisty Fleet sails in. We jest got ter lay low a bit more."
The girls gurgled, gasped and gagged on the whiskey as Bobbie Bob swilled it remorselessly down their gullets, first one, then the other. He had a shot or two himself for good measure. "Are ya's warmed up yit?" He could see they were still shivering so gave them a few more rounds. Then they passed out.
"Bobbie Bob I told you to warm those gals up, not pass 'em into the next world!" Bootlegger Bert boiled...pause..."Of all the conniving...these gals were a tryin' to break intar our cache here! Grab 'em, grab 'em good and help 'em 'visit' our Lightkeeper Kenny. Tie 'em up together. Makin' 'em pass out was a grand idear after all Bobbie. Yer a genius. We'll definitely sell them gals off, no one the wiser. Search and Rescue will call off the search in a few days time thinking they've gone and drowned theirselves. Now ain't that a fine howdy do!"
"What cher gawkin' at Bobbie Bob?! Git those gals outta here!"
Bobbie Bob swung a gal up under each arm and went loping off towards the lighthouse. Chanella was stirring. When she realized the great oaf of a man was carrying her like a big sack of potatoes, she struggled and screamed. Bobbie Bob simply tightened his grip and loped onwards. "Shut up, girl!" He could see he was going to have trouble with this one. How was he a goin' ter tie her up? He plopped Charlotta down on the ground, whipped out his whiskey, swirled it in front of his eyes checking the liquid level, ascertained, yup, enough for her and a bit more for himself, and forced more between her clasped teeth even as he held her in his vice grip. "You want ter play dirty girl? So can I. Now, swaller! Swaller! And don't holler!" he sniggered to himself on that little bit of rhyme; it pleased him in a sadistic sort of way. He rewarded himself with a chug on the now almost empty bottle and smacked his lips. "Ahh-hh off to lullaby land again," he stowed the whiskey, grabbed up Charlotta, hastened his steps and bustled into the lighthouse with his 'bundles'.
Kind Keeper Kenny, faithful lighthouse keeper of decades, sat strapped to his favorite chair with rounds and rounds of duct tape keeping him captive. His mouth was gagged with a dirty old cloth Bobbie Bob had scrounged from the keepers cleaning closet earlier in the day. His eyes near popped out of his head and his heart quaked within him when he saw the girls. He attempted to make movements in their direction and made many muffled sounds with his mouth. Bobbie Bob ignored him.
Bobbie Bob was intent on getting the girls tied together, back to back before they awoke from their stupor. They were still bedraggled and wet but that was their problem he thought. I already wasted enough whiskey on them; they should be plenty warm by now.
He had a time of it as they lolled and swayed hither and thither as he tied them. Chanella was facing towards Keeper Kenny and as she was "coming to" and realizing their predicament, her eyes fluttered open to behold the keeper. She gave him a wink and then lapsed back to lolling as if still under the whiskey influence; which she was, but she exaggerated it.
Good thing she'd read scores of Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books and the Three Investigators, to boot. She'd try some of their tricks. She decided to loll some more and in the process knocked herself and Charlotta over. Bobbie Bob cussed and swore profusely. He manhandled them back into position, managing to tie them securely and keep them upright in the process.
Securely, so he thought. Chanella had angled her hands apart so the rope, although cutting into her hands at first, would be slack when she released them.
Bobbie Bob tramped out, slammed the lighthouse door shut, and bolted it on the outside. All was quiet on the set for a few minutes inside. Then...
"Charlotta! Charlotta, wake up!" Chanella jiggled the two of them together. "Charlotta, wake up."
"I don't feel so good. He's got us drunk. I need to vomit." Charlotta retched beside them. They managed to scoot away from it, staying upright.
The girls took opportunity now to thank God for seeing them to land but now asked for His further help out of the new dilemma. It didn't seem so life or death now but Bootlegger Bert and Bobbie Bob were infamous village gangster types and were unpredictable. It was a serious enough situation to be in their clutches. They prayed some more and Keeper Kenny grunted and muffle mumbled something that they supposed was "Amen."
Bobbie Bob plonked himself down in front of the bolted door just as Bootlegger Bert came up from their secret stash in the rocky hideout below. Bert sat down on the bench along the pathway to the door.
Bobbie Bob was thinking. "Bootlegger Bert. How's the Feisty Fleet goin' ter make it's way in ter safety if the fog keeps on in pea soup quality and that thar light ain't a flashin' and the foghorn ain't a blarin'?"
"Sure as the shore is below us, the village folk will be hightailing it up here wondering what's happened to Keeper Kenny. Why's that light not a flashin' nor the fog horn a bellowin'? Sure as sure they'll be up. It don't make no sense ter me!"
"Now, now Bobbie Bob boy! Now, now." Bootlegger Bert scowled, stood and cuffed Bobbie up side the head with his fisherman's slicker hat he always wore except when he was cuffing someone, usually Bobbie, with it. He pierced Bobby Bob with one of his favorite sinister stares and spit a stream of chawin' tobaccy contemptuously at his buddy. Bobbie Bob retracted like a scared turtle.
"You think I ain't thought o' that Bobbie Bob? You scart of the cops? Go on home then Peter Pan but don't let me catch you 'round town, boy. I'll give ya a walloping you'll never write home about that's for certain sure."
"I wasn't a first class fisherman for nuthn'. I aim to catch me a giant fish today. Them's small fry inside thar. You jest a wait and see." Bootlegger Bert's trap was set; he was just a waitin' for it to be sprung. Patience was the key to his nefarious deeds he believed; the patience bit, that is. He wouldn't admit that the deeds were nefarious. He had time for some riddles as he waited for his prey.
Bootlegger Bert was one for riddles and he meant to set Bobbie Bob's heart at ease so he asked, "If you throw a green shoe into the Red Sea, what would it become?" Bobbie Bob only grunted. He never could guess correctly. "Tell me," he said.
"The answer is, of course, "Wet".*1 Ha, ha, ha." Bootlegger Bert burst with laughter. Bobbie Bob only grunted again. "Wait, here's another one, "What happened to the duck that flew upside down?" Pause. Grunt from Bobbie Bob. "I'll tell ya," Bert said. "It quacked up".*2 Grunt. Bert was just getting warmed up. He knew he'd eventually get more than a grunt response from Bobbie Bob. "What's another name for a smart duck? Pause. Grunt. "A wise quacker."*3 "Ha, ha, ha." from Bootlegger Bert. A grunt snicker from Bobbie Bob. Pause. "Here's another one..."
Sharkie's Dad waited on Dulsing Cliff shouting on and on for the girls til the Search and Rescue team appeared at full tilt ahead. He explained what Sharkie had seen and that he'd shouted out but had heard no response.Sharkie's Dad had a nose for detecting crime and was often called upon by the Sheriff to aid him in routing out wrong doers. He was unofficially dubbed "The Detector" by the village folks. They said he'd missed his calling. For the Detector, it was more like a hobby; something to keep his neurons actually connecting. For soothe though, he was a sleuth.
The Detector definitely detected something amiss. He sent one of the more trusted villagers who'd followed the crowd that followed the Search and Rescue to Dulsing Cliff, back to the village with a message for the Sheriff that he was going out to the lighthouse to check on something. The Sheriff would know that in an hour if the Detector hadn't sent a follow up message of "all-clear" or showed up himself in person, that the first message would then mean, "send back-up". It had been an effective method time and again, even in their smallish village. Not that there was much back-up to send, mind you, but it was fun and encouraging to think big about it. Several villagers could be counted on in an emergency.
The Detector strode off towards the lighthouse with determination propelling him to solve this newest puzzle of lack of light and horn The fog had still not abated and light and horn had still not been activated.
The Detector cautiously approached the lighthouse via the bushwhacking route rather than the common path. He spotted Beamer, the Keeper's faithful Newfoundland dog round the back of the lighthouse who spotted him back, raising his head and whimpering softly. The Detector put his finger to his lips telling Beamer to keep quiet and signed a command for the dog to "Stay." Beamer was a smart obedient dog. Beamer being there like that was not a good sign though, either. Beamer never left his master's side unless so commanded. Beamer even climbed the, how many is it, 100 and 87 steps, up to the top of the lighthouse when Keeper Kenny went there. The Detector doubted Beamer was commanded to camp out in this location.
Beamer had been barred from his master's side and booted in the side to make him go away. Beamer was in a quandary. He wanted to be with Keeper Kenny yet he didn't want to get kicked again. He'd stay put for the time being, besides his side still hurt; he'd bide his time alright. He was in an uncharacteristically growlly mood though.
The Detector moved stealthily round towards the front of the lighthouse edifice. As he...huh! He stopped short, what was that commotion...?
Sharkie sat restlessly at the kitchen table helping his Mom peel and slice apples for a pie after his Dad left for Dulsing Cliff. His mind fretted about the girls. He wanted to be able to do something to help them. Maybe he'd wander over to Keeper Kenny's lighthouse and talk to him.
Keeper Kenny was always so kind to him and treated him with respect. He was the only one besides his Mom who ever called him by his real name which was Thomas the 3rd, same as his Dad's except Dad's was Thomas the 2nd. Keeper Kenny always helped him think better too. "I'll tell him about the girls dulsing," he thought to himself.
When he'd finished with the apples he jumped down and was off to the light. Having his mind calmed by the idea of going to Keeper Kenny's, Sharkie could think about his favorite puns and riddles. They were something he was good at and he liked to make people laugh even if he himself didn't always understand them. He just memorized them and was happily satisfied when others laughed and enjoyed them.
He was recalling some now as he walked and whistled along the path, comforted just by the thought of them. Sharkie broke into the clearing and sauntered across, heading for the lighthouse door and Keeper Kenny. As he approached he could see, even through the foggy mist, the closed, bolted door. "Hmm...Why's the door bolted shut on the outside? Something's not right." Sharkie kept moving forward though, as now he was worried about his friend. When he got within two feet of the door someone roughly grabbed him from behind.
Sharkie screaming, "You let me go!" flailed his spindly arms heroically, all to no avail. He twisted his head around and to his horror saw Bootlegger Bert and Bobbie Bob. Bobbie Bob was the one holding him captive. "You l-l-let m-m-me g-g-o!" Sharkie stammered. He got that way when he was scared, stammering and shaking; yet he was spunky too. He started to punch Bobbie Bob in the side or wherever he could reach. Bobbie Bob thought it hilarious and guffawed uproariously.
"Well, now, lookie here, we've caught us another fish," taunted Bootlegger Bert. "But still the small fry...wait though...this is great bait! This be the small fry of that thar detectin' flounder. Ho, ho, ho! My trap is well and truly set, Bobbie Bob boy! Take 'im in and tie 'im up with the others."
"No, no, no!" squealed Sharkie, losing some of his fear. "Where's Keeper Kenny? I want to see Keeper Kenny. And where's Beamer?"
Beamer had heard Sharkie's cries and had come slinking round the lighthouse, pain or no pain, growling furiously as he came. He tore into Bobbie Bob's backside with ferocity rarely seen in this Newfie dog; clamping down and hanging on. Bobbie Bob yelped and dropped Sharkie heavily onto the walkway as Bootlegger Bert cuffed at the dog with his slicker hat. He was about to give the dog one swift kick to top it off when the dog's fury cooled upon seeing Sharkie released. He kept up warning growls in waves of intensity as he licked Sharkie on the face.
"Well boy, you better come nice and easy like. Get up. You want to see your Keeper Kenny? Well, he's inside," Bootlegger Bert growled himself, menacingly. "He's inside, and you are to go in there with him. You hearin' me boy?"
"I'm going to unbolt that door and you are goin' to walk nice and easy right inside. Got that, boy?!"
"Y-y-yes, Bootlegger Bert."
"Good. You tell that dog to git, too."
Now Bootlegger Bert had two 'weaknesses'. One was that his brother also had some form of mental challenge and this he recognized in Sharkie as well. He loved his brother; the only other person besides his own self, to be sure, and he treated his brother Jack real well and even tenderly; at least as tenderly as someone of Bootlegger Bert's caliber could. He decided to be a bit conscious and cautious of how he was going to treat the boy.
His second 'weakness' was his fondness of puns and riddles. All the village folk knew this, including Sharkie. Sharkie knew because he himself loved them. He decided to try one out on Bootlegger Bert.
"Mr. B-bert," Sharkie said, "What do sea monsters like to eat?"
"Oh-h-h-h!" groaned Bobbie Bob. He'd had enough puns and riddles for the day. He dared to yank Sharkie's arm to haul him to the door but Beamer growled ominously. Bobbie Bob released Sharkie.
"Let's see boy. What do sea monsters eat?" "Their sea anemones? Enemies, get it Bobbie Bob?"
"No, wrong!" Sharkie contravened as he gestured with his thumb held downwards. "They eat fish and ships!"*4
Bobbie Bob knew they'd be off on a roll if he didn't do something immediately. Before he got the lighthouse door unbolted however, Bootlegger Bert rolled off another one.
"Ok, smarty pants, try this one. What's a 'Howling Success'?"
Sharkie didn't even know those words and shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, I'll tell you boy, "It's a baby that always gets picked up!"*5 Now you better git on in that thar lighthouse afore Bobbie Bob pops his corn. I'm waiting for the Flounder.
"You know who the Flounder is, kiddo? He's more commonly known as, 'The Detector' and I have a bone or two to pick with him. He's caused me enough trouble over the years and now it's rettreebution time. Why'd you suppose I'm doing all this fancy work to catch him? And you just helped me to insure I do. In you go. The dog stays out."
Sharkie didn't like that! "You l-l-leave my father alone! He's a g-good man."
Poor Sharkie. But his Dad was nearby and was watching the whole cafluffle and had heard everything. He had seen Beamer beam to his son's rescue so he remained hidden contemplating his next move. He was glad he did. What a rumbling ruckus ensued. Bobbie Bob had unbolted and swung open the lighthouse door only to find the mezzanine void of the three captives.
The three captives had escaped through the secret trap door that only the Keeper and Sharkie knew about. Chanella had worked her bonds free and then extricated the other two. Charlotta was more herself now, and even she had chewed on a piece of surviving dulse Chanella parceled out to them to help keep their fortitude up. They showed up behind The Detector giving him a start. He managed to quell his voice though and whispered that they now had Sharkie in their clutches.
"Dear Sharkie," the girls cooed. "Did he send word we needed rescuing?"
"Yes, he did. Glad to see you. I see you got 'rescued' alright, by those ruffians."
Beamer ambled over to them then sensing his master's presence. "Good dog," Keeper Kenny said, then commanded the dog, "Go to Thomas the Third. Protect." Beamer ran to comply but bumped his nose into the suddenly slammed door. Bootlegger Bert didn't want a repeat attack.
"I'm right glad to see you girls safe but you've got to go with Keeper Kenny, back to the village. Let Search and Rescue know you're found. Kenny tell Sheriff I need him and back-up, pronto. You got your truck keys? Ok, go! I'll go let Beamer in and bolt those guys, Beamer and Sharkie inside. Sharkie's got pluck and with Beamer I believe he'll be ok. Go now. On the double. We've got to get the light and horn up and running asap and those guys behind bars for a long time to come."
"Pray," he inadvertently added, much to Keeper Kenny's surprize.
Mission accomplished. Beamer in, door shut and bolted before the men inside knew what hit them. All was out of their control now.
Beamer made a B-line for Bobbie Bob and arrested him again. Sharkie got to just sit on the chair without restraints.
The men tried to battering-ram the door open with their shoulders but gave up after a spell. Having searched for the three escapees and not finding them nor their escape route they sat on the lighthouse's spiral stairs to cogitate on their predicament. They were down for the count but not yet out they figured but how were they to possibly get out of this one?!
Once the sounds of the 'battering-ram' on the door ceased, The Detector followed the Keeper's directions to the escape exit in the nearby copse of trees and sat to await events. The Keeper had told him Thomas III knew the secret escape route so might try it if he could. Beamer would follow but the two men might also, so be alert. He'd send the men to the front door later and he himself would come find Thomas II, the Keeper had told him. The fewer people knowing the route the better.
It was nice having Beamer beside him, Sharkie mused. He felt safe even though he didn't like those men; their eyes were scary. However Sharkie sensed the two men's agitation and knowing himself that puns and riddles helped to calm and comfort him, innocently decided to share some more.
He spoke up in the uneasy silence, "Where do fish go for the holidays?" Sharkie thought this one very funny and was chuckling over the answer.
Bobbie Bob told him to "Shut up. Can't ya see me and Bootlegger Bert are thinkin'?"
That took the starch out of Sharkie's pleasure but Bootlegger Bert intervened and guessed, "Hmmm. Let me see...school? No, maybe not, who'd want to go to school during the holidays? Hmm. Oh, I give up..where?'
"To Finland,"*6 Sharkie chortled. "Get it? Fin, fish have fins. Ha, ha, ha."
"Okay, if you're so smart, boy, try this here one: "What's 'NET INCOME'? That'll stump ya!"
"Must have something to do with fish in a net," Sharkie said, "but I don't know the answer."
"Told you," Bootlegger Bert gloated. "The answer is, "The money a fisherman earns.*7 That kinda went over your head now didn't it, boy!" he said nastily.
Sharkie didn't like Bootlegger Bert's tone but resolved to tell another one he was dying to ask, "What's full of holes and yet holds water?" Oh he knew what this one meant. He giggled.
Bootlegger Bert couldn't guess after he said, "Sieve" which was a stupid guess Sharkie thought but didn't say. He was still kinda scared of these men. He didn't know what they would do next.
Bobbie Bob suddenly blurted out the answer. "It's obviously, 'a sponge,'*8 Bootlegger Bert, like your head. Well, come to think on it, to be honest, your head's more like a sieve."
Bootlegger Bert gave Bobbie Bob a smarting cuff with his handy slicker hat. "Enough!" he bellowed. "Enough, I say! Let me think. We've got to get out of here before that snooping snipe Detector and/or that sure fire Sheriff discover us. Dear knows where Keeper Kenny and those two scallywag gals have got to. Things have gotten outta hand. We better make good our escape somehow."
That set Sharkie thinking...he remembered the secret route Keeper Kenny told him about a while back, only the two of them new it too; their secret Keeper Kenny said. "Oh, if only me and Beamer can get out but those mean men will see us. I cannot think how to sneak away."
Sharkie was really tired and hungry now too. He'd missed lunch and the apple slices he'd managed to snitch earlier only made him hungrier now. He sniffled a bit and a tear or two escaped from his eyes but he braced up, 'like a man'. Like his Dad. Maybe some day he could be a Detector too. Maybe he was. He'd detected those girls in the dulsing water. That made him think of his binoculars. He held them up to his eyes and peered about. Oh he didn't like the look of the men up so close. He quickly turned his body in the chair, looked down at Beamer who's eye looked so big when the dog looked up at him. He put his hand down and gave the dog an affectionate reassuring pat.
"Uh-h! Oh-h-h." Sharkie smiled, he saw some dark shapes of movement of many men emerging from the foggy haze like concert celebs' entrances onto the stage. Only a quick glimpse though. He didn't want these two hoodlums to know.
Maybe he could still get out. He'd tell them he had to go to the loo. He really did, actually. Yes, that was a good plan..to the loo..where he knew he could escape. Beamer would have to come with him.
"Bootlegger Bert, I have to go to the loo."
"Okay but no funny business and the dog stays here."
But Beamer growled his insistence on accompanying Sharkie. Beamer even insisted on a closed bathroom door. That amused Sharkie. "Smart dog," he whispered, patting Beamer on the head. Beamer looked like he was grinning up at Sharkie. "Smart dog," he said again. Beamer sat with his great butt abutted up against the closed door while he waited for Sharkie to do his thing.
He then watched Sharkie curiously. Sharkie double checked the bathroom door to ensure it was locked. Keeper Kenny had shown Sharkie what to do, and Sharkie remembered. He also remembered that he told him to be sure to flush the toilet so that any sound of opening the escape hatch would be muffled.
Sharkie followed the remembered instructions and he and Beamer got themselves into he tunnel passageway when they heard Bobbie Bob rattling the bathroom doorknob and beating on the door, "You come out here now, boy!" he shouted angrily.
Beamer barked and growled as Sharkie pushed the button to conceal the doorway on the inside of the bathroom. Sharkie made sure the hatch closed all the way and then he and Beamer skipped to freedom. Boy was he glad to see his Dad at the exit!
They hugged and then his Dad told him to go hide away behind the foghorn building and to leave Beamer with him. He still didn't trust that the men might somehow come out this passage too and he didn't want to take any chances with just himself to tackle them.
Sharkie had told his Dad he'd seen the Sheriff's troop coming. "Ok, son, I love you, now go and hide. I'll find you when its over." Sharkie went to obediently do his Dad's bidding.
The Sheriff and his men surrounded the lighthouse, unbolted the front door and charged in, cuffed and arrested the two men, the Sheriff reading them their rights.
Keeper Kenny tended his lighthouse, switched on the light and foghorn, deafening poor Sharkie with it's sudden blast. But he was glad. His Dad popped his head around the side of the building a few minutes later and beckoned him to come. Together they approached the lighthouse in time to see Bootlegger Bert and Bobbie Bob come out and be stuffed into the waiting Sheriff-mobile.The Detector stuck his head into the cop car and asked Bootlegger Bert, "What's the whirlybird that catches the worm called?"
Bootlegger Bert, was for once, in no mood for puns and riddles and just glowered at his escaped quarry with nary a word.
The Detector chortled, "It's a POLICE HELICOPTER."*9
The Sheriff's other back-up men lumbered up from the rocks below with the recovered crates Bootlegger Bert had stowed there. The Sheriff remarked to Bert, "We'll be seeing what's what of that down at the precinct. Chanella obligingly told us they belong to you so no denying it."
As the Sheriff didn't actually have a helicopter to transport the prisoners, he sat behind the wheel of his mobile. It did the trick and off they went with the caravan of 'back-up' in their wake. Off they all went leaving Keeper Kenny, Beamer, The Detector and Sharkie to the return of the ordinary.
"Well, Sharkie my son, let's go home. All's well that ends well."
Sharkie gave Keeper and Beamer a huge bear hug each, speaking earnestly to Beamer, "Beamer, you did good. You helped me, Thank-you." Beamer lathered Sharkie's face with his tongue in response.
"You did good too Thomas the Third," smiled Keeper Kenny.
"Bye."
"Bye."
That afternoon the journalist came to take Sharkies' picture and ask him some questions about his morning. The next day "The Village Gazette" had Sharkie's picture, complete with his ubiquitous binoculars, plastered on the front page. He was grinning like a banshee.
The journalist said he needed a new nickname. She suggested, "Hero Thom." After all he's the one who was the catalyst-alert to the girls in dulsing trouble and then was brave enough to stay in with those crooks with Beamer at his side. There was a picture of Beamer too.
The girls featured on page 2 and said they were none the worse for their experience but were wiser; they hoped. The picture of the girls included Chanella's bag of dulse and a piece of dulse in each hand; "A Balanced Diet" read the caption.
Keeper Kenny got honorable mention and seeing as he was a lighthouse keeper he wanted everyone to be reminded that he had Jesus in his life and that "Jesus is the light of the world" to light the way safely to God. Amazingly, the journalist included all he said.
"Jesus spoke again to the people Kenny said, saying, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." (John 3:12).
Keeper Kenny said that once you have Jesus as the light of your life, then a person should shine it to others. He quoted Matthew 5:16 "In the same way let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your father in heaven." That's what he wanted everyone to know the journalist reported.
The Detector made a brief comment that he was "right proud of Hero Thom" and his part in all the drama. He also said, that he'd prayed for the girls and was wanting to get his faith in God back on track. He'd be working on that more in the days, weeks, months, and years ahead.
The Feisty Fleet came and went like a ghost in the night when Bootlegger Bert defaulted at the rendezvous hour. No one saw it but Beamer. He stood, a silent sentinel on a point overlooking the ocean. When the ship turned and sailed away, Beamer sighed and went back to his master, content in his knowledge that all was now well.
 | |
| Dulse Drying in Sun |
Hero Thom lowered his binoculars and waved his good-bye from the top of the lighthouse that day. The light glowing and flashing it's rounds of light through the encroaching all pervasive fog. "Boo-ooo-oo-u-u-um-m-m," bellowed the throaty foghorn to the ships at sea.
Hero Thom was grinning at Keeper Kenny and asked, "How do lighthouse keepers communicate?" Keeper Kenny wasn't sure. "With 'shine language'"*10 Hero Thom informed him.
"Oh you ole riddle rogue, ya!" Keeper Kenny said, tousling Hero Thom's hair. "That's like us as followers of Jesus, we are suppose to shine for the Lord. Jesus uses us as a light too to shine for Him. He said, "you are the light of the world." (Matthew 5:14). He also said, "...let your light so shine before men that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven" (Matthew 5:16-NIV). God also uses 'Shine language, and that's us, we're His lighthouses."
"We have to warn people of the danger of God's wrath to come and how they can escape it. Just like Charlotta and Chanella, they did not take heed even though they did know the dangers. They got distracted and got into trouble. So even though we may know, we have to do something about our knowledge before the trouble starts." Keeper Kenny explained.
 |
| Sambro, Nova Scotia, Canada |
"You did good deeds the other day, Hero Thom. And I hope that you will shine your light so everyone will see and know Jesus too."
"Here, Chanella brought you a present for me to give to you. Three guesses as to what's in the package."
Hero Thom took it, sniffed at the gift and rolled his eyes; he'd bet anything it was dulse.
P.S.
I just want to share a powerful 'sea' song with you by Darlene Zschech.
(click on her name...enjoy)
The End
~ERC 2016~
Bibliography
1. World's Greatest Collection of Riddles, Complied by Bob Phillips, Copyright, 1989 by Harvest House Publishers, Eugene, Oregon 97402, page 65.
2. Ibid. Page 56.
3. Ibid. Page 54.
4. www.ezschool.com/Riddles/Riddles176Ans.html
5. World's Greatest Collection of Daffy Definitions, Compiled by Bob Phillips, Copyright, 1989 by Harvest House Publishers, Eugene, Oregon 97402, page 23.
6. Internet-can't find website address
7. World's Greatest Collection of Daffy Definitions, Compiled by Bob Phillips, Copyright, 1989 by Harvest House Publishers, Eugene, Oregon 97402, page 29.
8. World's Greatest Collection of Riddles, Compiled by Bob Phillips, Copyright, 1989 by Harvest House Publishers, Eugene, Oregon, page 54.
9. World's Greatest Collection of Daffy Definitions, Compiled by Bob Phillips, Copyright, 1989 by Harvest House Publishers, page 32.
10. www.lighthousesforkids.com/fun_jokes.php
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