Magnus Fin and the Ocean Quest (14 page)

That Saturday, the cottage down by the sea was filled with the sweet cinnamon-and-sugar smell of baking. Ragnor was busy trying to coax the barbecue to work, and Barbara was in the garden shaking out a white tablecloth and throwing it over the picnic table.

“Food will be ready soon, everyone,” Barbara called out, picking daisies from the grass then scattering them over the tablecloth. Then she turned and ran across the grass to where Ragnor was busy with the business of sausage cooking. He had finally succeeded in getting the coals to light. The two of them laughed, hugged each other then ran hand in hand up to the bench, where they plonked themselves down and, arms round each other, gazed out to sea. Barbara’s long red hair fell down her back and spun out as she shook her head and laughed. Ragnor’s hair was also long. His was black and shiny. From where Tarkin, Magnus Fin and Aquella were playing swingball, they could hear the rich, warm laughter coming from the two grown-ups.

“So, like, who are these cool people, Fin?” Tarkin asked, nudging in the direction of the handsome man and woman on the bench.

“My parents,” said Magnus Fin, his voice
bursting with pride.

“Cool,” said Tarkin. “So what happened to the G-G-Ps? Where are they? I mean, I thought your parents were, like, ancient?”

“I think they time-travelled,” said Magnus Fin, winking and wishing everyone was as positive as Tarkin. “And, um – see that lady doing a spot of line dancing over there in the cowboy boots and big hat? That’s my granny!”

Hearing herself mentioned, Granny May turned and waved.

“Cool, Fin, you are unique – totally awesome. Oh man, I wish I wasn’t going to France. I can’t even speak French. Aquella, that just ain’t how you hold the bat. Look, it’s like this, that’s it.”

“I’ve got a lot to learn,” said Aquella, winking at Magnus Fin. Then she turned back to Tarkin who had just whacked the ball really hard. “Hey, Tarkin, where’s your mum? I thought she was coming to the party?” Aquella missed the ball. “Oh! Bad shot! Hey, this is my very first party and she isn’t even here!”

“I dunno where she is. I wanted to get here early. She said she was going for a walk down the beach then she’d be here. Maybe she’s fallen out with her boyfriend.”

Just as the sausages were ready, the rest of the children in Magnus Fin’s class at school turned up.

“Heard you were having a party,” said Patsy Mackay. “Aquella told us.”

“I hope that was all right,” said Aquella. “We’re all friends, aren’t we?”

For a second Magnus Fin looked uncomfortable, until Tarkin nudged him.

“Cool,” said Tarkin, “means we can play lots of games – like hide ‘n’ seek. Man, I love hide ‘n’ seek. Do you, Aquella?”

“Never tried,” she said, “but I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Magnus Fin grinned and Patsy Mackay threw him a big tooth-gap smile, then Ragnor called out at the top of his voice, “Food’s ready, everyone!”

While Barbara handed everyone napkins and drinks, the guests could only stare, blink and look on in wonder. Magnus Fin’s mother was a picture of beauty. By this time, half the village had turned up. Even Granny May, puffed out after the line dancing, was stuck for words. Eventually, after a bite of sausage, she recovered her speech and with tears in her eyes announced to everyone, “She is even more beautiful than I remember. What did I tell you, Fin? What did I tell you? Everyone – isn’t she an absolute beauty? Isn’t my daughter just a picture? Thank goodness they’re better, that’s all I can say.”

And not only Magnus Fin, but Ragnor and all the guests could only nod their heads and smile.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop staring and eat up,” said Barbara, putting her hands to her face, hardly daring to believe that her youth and beauty had returned. “You don’t want these sausages to get cold, do you? And then there’s chocolate cake and ice cream for afters.” Then Barbara turned to Tarkin and saw he wasn’t eating his sausage, just fiddling with it. “What’s wrong, Tarkin?” she said gently. “Don’t American boys like hot dogs?”

“Yeah, usually, it’s just …”

“It’s just that he might have to go away, Mum,” said Magnus Fin, his mouth crammed full of sausage, “cos his mum thinks it’s too cold here.”

“Where is she anyway?” Ragnor said, coming over to put thirty more sausages on the barbecue seeing as half the village had turned up. “I thought you said she was going to come to our party, Tarkin?”

But Tarkin could only shrug his shoulders and scuff his feet. Words seemed to have left him. He didn’t know where she was. Packing a suitcase probably and stabbing a pin into a map of France.

“Isn’t that her?” said Aquella, pointing to a woman and man walking down the path towards them.

Tarkin looked up. Yes. It was. He nodded. Then looked again. His mother had something in her hands. As she came closer, Tarkin saw what it was. His bottle! The blue glass bottle he had flung out to sea two weeks before. Of all the people in the world to find it, his mother had! His face flushed red.

“Welcome to the party,” said Barbara, walking up to greet the couple. “You’re just in time for some of Ragnor’s wonderful sausages.”

Tarkin’s mum smiled at Barbara. “Thank you so much. So good of you to invite us. I just gotta go and talk to my son first if you’ll excuse me.” And she walked through the crowd of guests to where Tarkin stood at the bottom of the garden, with his head down, staring at the grass. She looked at him and lifted his chin. “Look at me, Tarkin.”

“Why?” he said, embarrassed about the message
in a bottle. He thought maybe she would give him a row about it. What bad luck. Of all the people in the world to find his bottle.

“Honey,” she said with tears now glistening in her eyes, “I found it. The waves brought it in when I was out walking.” She held the bottle up for him to see.

Tarkin didn’t know what to say. He stared at his mother and swallowed hard. He hoped he wasn’t going to burst into tears. There was no doubting it, the bottle she now held in her hands was the bottle he had thrown to sea.

“I didn’t know, honey,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t know you found it so hard. I thought maybe you liked all this travelling. I thought we’d find the perfect place one day. I’m sorry, Tark. Will you forgive me?”

Tarkin swallowed again and nodded his head. Still no words came, but he found his embarrassment was gone and suddenly he felt happy that she had found his bottle.

“I’ll make a huge effort, Tark. I promise. What does it matter if it’s cold? Hm? It is good here. It could be home. We could make it home, son. I’ll get me a big fur coat like the one you found in the Yukon – and I’ll ask your dad to come and visit you. He’d love to, Tark. I know he wants to.”

Then Tarkin did cry. He couldn’t help it; too many big things were happening all at once. Then he hugged his mother and told her how much he loved his new friends and his new school, and Scotland, and how he wanted to stay for years and years, and that if she did
get a fur coat it should really be fake. He only stepped back when he heard loud cheers coming from Magnus Fin and Aquella and Ragnor and Barbara and Frank and Mrs McLeod and all the other guests.

“Three cheers for Tarkin – he’s going to stay – hip-hip-hooray!”

“Magic!” said Tarkin, as happy now as he had been sad just ten minutes earlier. “It really does happen. It happens to me too, Fin. Wow! I’m staying!”

“Magnus Fin! Tarkin! Aquella! Children, hurry, come and look!” Ragnor, Barbara and Tarkin’s parents called out and waved everyone over. The children dashed up to where the adults stood, all of them shaking their heads in wonder and staring out to sea.

“Look,” said Barbara eagerly, “look, boys, look at these wonderful waves. Aren’t they enormous? And there’s something flashing out there in the sea. Look – can you see the tail?”

Everyone stared to where Barbara was pointing, to a place beyond the black rock where spray splashed from the rippling sea. For a fleeting moment a cream-coloured glinting tail flicked out of the water and the most beautiful seal breached in an arc.

“Wow!” gasped Tarkin. “That was huge!”

“She’s amazing,” shouted Magnus Fin, waving wildly as the beautiful creature yelped, dived under the water and was gone. Ragnor laughed at the two gawping boys.

“Hey, boys,” he called out, “now don’t go falling
for a seal.”

“And why not?” said Barbara. “The best creatures in the world in my opinion. We can learn a lot from them,” she said, squeezing her husband’s arm.

Aquella lifted an arm and waved at the creature that dived under the water. Much longer than anyone else, she stared out to sea then wiped a tear from her cheek. She took a very deep breath then turned to her uncle Ragnor. He was standing behind her, waiting for her to say goodbye to the seal.

“It’s all right, Aquella,” he said, holding her tight. “And you know, it’s not too bad being human,” he said warmly. “In fact, sometimes being human is the very best thing in the world.”

Then Tarkin, Aquella, Magnus Fin and even Patsy Mackay had a big group hug.

Then everyone at the party ate chocolate cake – loads of it, with vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce.

And the rays of the sun sparkled on the sea.

And the clear blue waves broke white on to the shore.

Magnus Fin had never felt so happy in his life. While everyone was chomping on cake, he ran down to the shore and on to the skerries. The waves crashed over them, white and sparkling. He leapt easily from rock to rock, excited at the booming music the waves made.

Magnus Fin reached the edge of a jutting rock just as an almighty wave crashed over the rocks and soaked him. When the wave withdrew, three
things were left on the glistening rock, lying like gifts at Magnus Fin’s wet feet: a trainer for his left foot, another for his right and – Magnus Fin gasped – a large, wonderful treasure. He yelled for joy, bent down and picked it up.

CAPTAIN’S QUARTERS

His hansel.

Magnus Fin ran along the shore path in the grey dawn light. He cut down to the sandy beach, kicking up tangles of seaweed as he ran. Feeling like the king of the sea and shore, Magnus Fin let out a loud whoop. An oystercatcher down at the water’s edge whooped back.

Being alone at the beach in the early morning was always special, but low-tide mornings like this were even better. Low tide meant secret rock pools, each like a miniature ocean. It meant more stones to scramble over. And it meant he’d be able to see the top of the mast of the sunken ship.

In a flash Magnus Fin was down on the skerries: the sloping black rocks that went out to sea. They spent half their lives hidden underwater. Now here they were, craggy, slippery and full of surprises. Fin leapt over stones and slithered on seaweed. He hoisted himself up his favourite rock, the high black one that jutted above all the others. Fin’s feet knew its ledges and craggy footholds. Panting hard he reached the top and stood tall, just in time to see the beaming orange sun burst over the sea’s horizon. What an entrance! Up and up it rose, like King Midas, turning everything to gold.

Magnus Fin whipped out his penny whistle. He could only play one tune but he played it well and he played it twice. And sure enough, up they came, their sleek round heads lifting out of the shining water. A wide smile burst over the boy’s
face. Quickly he counted – sixteen, seventeen, eighteen seals – and every one of them watching him. There were black ones, mottled grey ones, small silver calves and huge long-whiskered bulls.

Fin pocketed his whistle, took a deep breath, cupped his hands round his mouth then shouted, “Hello seals!”

He waited for the reply. And it came: shy at first, then lifting into a rousing choir – the seal’s song. Yelping, honking, booming, soft for a moment then soaring! Like a trumpet, a bass guitar, a bodhran, bagpipes! What a sound!

When their song ended Magnus Fin clapped loudly, and the seals, lifting their flippers and splashing them together with yelping cries, clapped too. One by one they flipped, kicked their tail fins, then silently dipped under the water and vanished. Behind them the black thin mast of the sunken ship remained, like a finger, pointing to the sky.

By this time the sun was up and the chill of the November dawn was gone. Glancing behind him, Magnus Fin saw that everything was on fire. The golden sand on the beach shone. The hillsides and cliff faces glowed, meaning (because he could read time by the sun) that it was quarter past eight. That gave him half an hour to scramble about on the skerries, study the rock pools, then comb the beach before a quick breakfast, then school.

In his Neptune’s cave of a bedroom Magnus Fin had a growing collection of pottery bits. He planned to make a mosaic picture, once he’d found a few more pieces of broken plates and coloured glass. The tide line was the best place to find glass. The tide line was the best place to find
broken pottery. Blue bits – that’s what he wanted.

And that’s what he was thinking about when he bent his knees and swung his arms back, ready to jump from the high rock … when something by his feet caught his eye. He dropped his arms and stared.

To the side of his right foot he saw a strange white mark. Gull droppings? He peered closer. It didn’t look like gull droppings. His heart skipped a beat. No one knew that rock like he did. He got down on his knees to examine it.

Goosebumps crept up his arm. The mark looked like writing. But this was his rock, his lookout tower. Being high up, this rock let him see what the black-backed gulls were up to, puffins even if he was lucky, and most importantly, the seals. So what was this mysterious white mark doing on his rock? It hadn’t been there the day before, he was sure about that.

Forgetting his plan to search for pottery, Fin stared at what appeared to be silvery writing. He let his finger follow its trail. It looked and felt like the letter M. Fin pulled his finger back and a shiver ran down his spine.