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The Ballad of DeLeon: Part 3
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Annamarie
Annamarie's Gallery (10)

The Ballad of DeLeon: Part 4

An Orchestra of Scent & Sound: Part 1
bod04.txt
Keywords fox 231819, rabbit 127828, family 6205, sea 5741, accident 2214, puppies 790, rescue 702, exploring 430
The tide had turned. Crashing waves retreated and left exposed the intricate worlds of the rock pools. Each one was a strange alliance of calm and chaos. From a crevice on the side of a large cluster of rocks small strands of silvery seaweed floated out like a sea-maiden's hair. The gentle movement and currents was the calm. The chaos would return later when a resurgent tide would crash into the pools to swirl, scour and tug at the seaweed.

Barnacles and limpets clung like a white rash on the surface of the drying rocks and boulders. In one of the pools a finger was gently offered to the waving tentacles of a sea anemone. For a moment it sucked at the tip of the digit before quickly pulling the tentacles back into itself and out of harms way.

Jenny McNeery loved the rock pools. There was always something to find whatever the time of year or state of the tide. She crouched down to watch fascinated as shore crabs scuttled into hiding to jostle for position with hermit crabs in their borrowed shells beneath rocks covered with blobs of maroon jelly that were resting sea anemones and the wide selection of sea snails including white dog whelks, brown periwinkles and striped top shells.

The Collie pup's tail wagged as she caught her brother's girlish giggling over the sounds of the sea and she looked up. She watched as her twin helped retrieve a rather sodden looking black Labrador from one of the deeper pools. Colin had obviously lost his footing and toppled over while hunting for shrimp with the little green net wired to the end of a long bamboo stick. She grinned, took up her own net and bucket and scrambled bare footed towards them to help.

During the holidays the days were marked out by the times and the state of the tides. Her brother was an expert on this subject. He knew the dates and exact times of tides and whether they were springs or neaps. He knew if they should climb round to their favourite most inaccessible beach before lunch, or after it.

They spent their days as any rugged Cornish child should. They climbed from inlet to inlet, bay to bay. This was always done on dropping tides rather than rising ones to prevent being trapped by rising waters and being forced into exhausting and dangerous paddling to reach home. Rock-hopping was more art than science. Timing was everything. As a wave pulled out from a gulley they jumped on to a rock that was only temporarily above water. As the sea gathered itself to knock them off they jumped again. Hopefully to land on a ledge that wasn't too slippery with seaweed.

Their parents expected the children not to be idiots and so they weren't. Living next to the sea they needed to learn how to respect it. The best way to do that was by exploring. The only rule was to be back at home seven o'clock and so they were. The rest of it was left up to them and each mistake was their own to make and learn from.

Today was special. The tide was out far further than normal. This had revealed areas of rocks that were never usually exposed and where the really exotic creatures could be found. They day became one of exciting discovery and the thrill of the hunt. Colin dodged the snapping claws of a pugnacious velvet swimming crab while trying to seize it. Her brother attempted to pick up wriggling eel-like butterfish and discovered just how the species had earned the name. With a lot of squealing and laughter he had done his best to catch it but lost it beneath a large submerged rock. When he jabbed his net into the crevice he ended up accidentally catching the two prize finds of the day.

The contents of his net joined the rest in a bucket and the three pups drew round to stare. In amongst the usual crabs, shrimp, starfish, sponges, sea-squirts and tube-worms, two very different creatures skulked in resentful captivity.

One was a fish with the exciting name of the sea scorpion. It was fantastically coloured against the white of the bucket. Back in the rock pool its mottled pattern of chocolate brown and pink would make it all but invisible against the seaweed. The other was a rare deep purple sea slug called a Sea Hare. When Colin gently drew it out of the bucket for a closer inspection it surprised them all by promptly squirting him with violet ink. After Colin had scrubbed most of the ink from his pelt they had sat down to enjoy their packed lunch. Colin's grandmother had provided them with a veritable feast of crusty ham rolls, tangy green apples and honeyed oat farls.

After lunch came more exploring with each of the three trying to out-do one another with their finds. Tall tales and a good deal of imagination added some spice to this contest when giant squid and immense nautili narrowly evaded capture. From time to time their heads jerked upwards from the pools when jets from RNAS Culdrose blasted overhead. Colin's father was a pilot at the station and so his son?s intimate knowledge of the machines allowed him to reel off the names of the aircraft without thinking. He knew them all, Gannet, Sea-Hawk, Sea-Venom, Firefly, Firebrand. One of his favourite games was to close his eyes and guess the plane just from the sound of its engine.

Far too soon it was time to go home. Jenny's brother abruptly put his nose in the air flicked his ears and frowned. Jenny and Colin both sighed sadly when he looked back at them and nodded. They knew far better than to doubt him in matters of the sea. Returning most of their catch to the pools they kept the shrimp. The three friends clambered over the sea-sculpted rocks and back towards the harbour. There they saw the miserable outline of Eric.

The young fox was perched on the edge of the concrete harbour wall and looking out to sea. He was in mid sulk. Unlike his three best friends he had not enjoyed his day. It was all the fault of the witch of Waypoint Cottage. At his mother's suggestion the evil rabbit had spent the night in the guest bedroom. The following morning when she had stirred at the sound of laughing children and the wondrous aroma of freshly brewed coffee she was unaware of the two little forms that were huddled outside of her door with black tipped ears pressed tightly to the woodwork.

"Mamma says she is nice." the smaller of the two had mumbled doubtfully around her thumb.
"Colin says she is a witch." Eric insisted again in a hoarse whisper. His sister was less than convinced.
"I think I'll believe mamma." The infant vixen pulled her ear away from the door and pottered away in search of breakfast leaving her brother to his espionage.

Inside Anna had stirred blissfully. The blankets were warm, the mattress soft and the pillows gloriously thick. She had snuggled into them. Still half asleep she revelled in the comfort while refusing to open her eyes. Opening her eyes would have meant that the battle was lost and that it was time to get up. Instead she dozed on and listened to the sounds wafting under the door of the guest room.

Outside her little domain all was noise and chaos. Feet thumped or scampered over creaking floorboards. Arguments broke out over rights and seniority regarding bathroom privileges. Clothing was lost, found, lost again and sometimes borrowed or downright stolen. The battalion of children in the Fegen family were being mobilised for the day ahead. The oldest four children had left home to create satellite households of their own throughout the village. That still left Toby, Gloria, little Edwina and of course, Eric. She had judged from the din that the entire family was made up of early risers.

When the rabbit finally emerged from the room and headed downstairs Eric had hidden himself away around a corner. Once she was safely out of sight and earshot he darted into the now vacant room and began searching for evidence. The room was spotless. The bed was made, the curtains drawn and window opened to let in the fresh morning air. He had spied her handbag atop the chest of drawers. Pulling up a chair he clambered onto it to continue his investigations. After much rooting about the little fox had frowned. There was nothing incriminating or out of the ordinary. No raven's feet, wands...dried newts or strange herbs. There was just a purse, half a packet of mints and the usual bits and pieces that his mother had in her own bag. Disappointed he has begun to return it all. While he was in this compromising position his mother walked in.

Sitting down for breakfast had been a somewhat tender affair for Eric after that. He had been given a thorough hiding for his trouble, his ludicrous excuse ignored. Instead thievery was assumed. Throughout breakfast he had watched the rabbit intently, feeling of revenge seething within his small frame. Anna did her best to pay the angry tod no heed. She did not grasp that she was still being studied for signs of telltale warts.

Eric eventually began to feel rather nonplussed. For an evil witch the rabbit seemed friendly enough. His mother was getting on with her especially well. Eric ate his boiled egg and wracked his brains while trying to recall the ways you could identify a witch. There was something about them floating but a successful experiment of that kind was unlikely to be achieved without suspicion. He just knew she was a witch. He just had to prove it. He had to prove it soon for his mother and the rabbit were fast becoming the best of friends. He needed to talk to Colin. He would know just what to do.

Having finished his egg and toast the little fox brushed crumbs from his whiskers and hefted his plate over to the sink. Before he could dash off to begin his witch-hunting enquiries he was seized by the scruff of the neck and hauled back to the table to endure a hair brushing. Knots and tangles were dragged straight while he winced and gritted his teeth. Unfortunately he was not to escape with a mere grooming.

"Eric," his mother commanded. "Take this list to Mr Jones." She thrust a note into his unwilling paw.
"The rag and bone?" he had glumly asked. Usually he took any opportunity to venture into the warehouse of junk on the far side of the village. There was treasure to be had in that pile of second hand detritus and more than once he had been chased out by Old Jones after being caught trespassing. Today was different. He did not want to explore the wonders of Old Jones' property and wares. He wanted to find Colin and come up with a plan to expose the witch in their midst. However he knew better than to resist his mother's will. He darted out of the door and set off at a run to carry out his task. He could always find Colin afterwards.

Eric's mother, Maeve, was a good head taller than her husband and almost as broad. With her wide hips and her rather impressive bust she looked tailor made for motherhood. When she was younger she must have looked every inch the Amazon warrior. Now she fairly glowed with matriarchal power and was possessed of an iron will and benevolent good humour. The heavily pregnant vixen chatted with her guest as she finished tying a little white ribbon into her daughter?s hair. The child had been squirming about throughout the whole exercise, impatient to join her siblings. Now freed she gambolled off with a flutter of her bushy tail.

The two women watched the playing children and discussed everything from the weather, to how Anna had appeared in Porthleven. Soon enough the conversation had begun to steer away from Anna's history and towards the previous night.

"Sorry if the noise kept you up." The rabbit had apologised with a wry and nervous grin and a degree of apprehension. The international gaggle of pilots had left the pub rather late. So late that it was bordering on early. Bundling into the back of their lorry they had rocked and roared away into the night while in full and drunken song.

"They say in the Air Force a landing's OK,
If the pilot can get out and still walk away.
But in the Fleet Air Arm the prospect is grim,
If you land in the oggin and can't bloody swim!"

"What's an Oggin?" she had been forced to ask tipsily as she headed back into the pub.
"Not got the foggiest." Elias replied.

After the departure of the servicemen events had become a touch blurred and erratic in Anna's mind. She hoped to goodness she had not done anything too embarrassing or inconvenient for her hosts. She did not recall how she had ended up in their guest room. She certainly did not remember how she had managed to awake in a borrowed night gown. Maeve waved her hand dismissively at the rabbit sensing her worry and shifted her broad frame.

"Ahh, don?t talk rubbish. I can sleep through anything that ain't a squalling young 'un. Just as well. Old Elias snores like a bulldozer."
"So that was what the din was." Anna had mused into her coffee. "I just assumed it was another kind of plane." Maeve nearly choked on her tea. Tossing her head back she had fair roared with laughter.

For Eric the rest of the day had been one frustratingly long task after another. He had been forced to read the list aloud the ancient rag & bone merchant whose eyes were not up to his mother?s fine and spidery writing. He had to help pile the cart with the bits and pieces and second hand furniture. Then he had to help unload it when it reached the witch's cottage. He thought that perhaps he would be able to search for clues at the cottage but his mother had made sure he was not left alone for a second. She had still not forgotten nor forgiven his earlier transgression with the handbag.

Every time he finished a task he was given another to attend to. By the time he had been allowed to slink away with aching arms he was exhausted and it was evening. All day Eric had unpacked boxes, moved furniture, pulled weeds and cut grass. Tired out he had gone to the harbour to watch the boats come in and finally met up with Colin and the twins. Now the four of them sat on the stone stairs hewn into the harbour wall that led down to the lapping water. Colin had his rod out and was using the shrimp they had gathered earlier for bait. They all watched the bobbing float on his line with thoughts turned to witches.

"Any other ways?" Colin asked the twins after going through all the usual traits such as floating on water, warts and familiars.

"Splinters!" Jenny gasped suddenly. The other three looked at her quizzically. "In her bum..." she continued with a giggle. ?Y'know, from riding a broomstick." her brother flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he joined in with her giggling. Colin and Eric rolled their eyes. Girls never took important things seriously.

At the top of the hill above the village Anna was whisking along a dirt track on her bicycle. Her ears streamed out behind her and she breathed in the fresh evening air being blown in from the sea. It had been a magnificent day. She had made a new friend who just so happened to have an army of relatives at her disposal to shift furniture in and empty boxes out. Now she was on her in a lime green strapless summer dress to enjoy a meal with the whole extended Fegen family. It would be delightful to add a good evening to the good day and thank those that helped her so much.

The track before her gave way to cobbles. Anna tightened her fingers on the old metal brake to slow herself with a squeal of rubber on metal. The bike did not slow like it usually did so she squeezed a little harder. Suddenly there was a ping, the sound of metal pattering onto the cobbles and the brake handle went slack. Anna swore.

Elias stood under the balmy summer sky and smiled. Down in the harbour the boats were all in and the catches being unloaded by tired crews. Gulls called excitedly overhead as they circled over boats laden with freshly caught fish. The fat fox was quite taken aback when Anna flashed past with the bell on her bike ringing furiously. People were forced to dive aside as she hurtled down and round the cobbled road towards the harbour and dock with her legs thrown out wide for balance. From the way her mount was bouncing and rattling beneath her it must have been like riding a jackhammer. At breakneck speed. Abandoning his pipe Elias broke into the closest he could manage to a run and lumbered after the screaming cyclist at full tilt.

At the dockside Jan hefted the last box of his catch with a grunt. It had been a lucky day for him. He had been on the fish from first light and every line he put down came up full. Red snapper, Mackerel, Pilchard, Red and Grey Mullet, Pollack, Cod, Sea Bass and Whiting were all soon packed in ice. Now under the orange sky of evening the great black bear was almost done unloading.

His massive arms bulged as he hauled the heavy box onto the harbour. It took two men to take it away. Jan had a reputation amongst the other fishermen. A true mountain of a man he was a good two heads taller than anyone else in the village. He had to stoop to get through doors. He was a fellow of few words and tended to communicate with a series of guttural grunts and steely glares. He had been a merchant sailor in the war but he never talked about it. He never talked about anything. He worked alone, lived alone and drank alone.

The bear grasped the iron runs set into the harbour wall and began to climb away from his boat. The tiny fishing vessel rode a little higher once he heaved his immense frame from the deck. He climbed slowly. Jan did everything slowly. In all tasks he had a kind of unstoppable purpose that was fascinating to behold. The other fishermen left him well alone and gave him a great deal of respect. The last time someone had failed to do either and picked a fight with him had entered into legend.

The harbour-master trotted over to him with a smile and a wave. With a grunt Jan stopped and looked down at the stocky otter while sucking the last life from his hand rolled cigarette.

"Just so you know, got another mine-sweeper coming through on the morrow..." the old otter began. He leaned upon the guard rail while picking at the flaking black paint that protected the metal from the salty sea air and spray. Much to the harbour master's annoyance Jan did not seem to be listening. His head turned slowly towards the village. Without warning suddenly Jan shot out his massive fists and seized the front of the harbour-master's jacket. The otter flung his arms up to protect himself as he was hauled forwards into what he was sure would be the soundest beating of his life. A second later and there was a wild ringing of a bicycle bell, yells of alarm and Anna's bike slammed into the railings with a truly enormous clang.

The result of the crash was amazing. The front wheel buckled at once, the front forks bent and the ancient bicycle fair exploded. Bolts sheared, tubular steel bent or snapped and the hapless passenger in the green dress was catapulted over the handlebars and railings. She sailed screaming out towards the ocean with her arms thrown wide as if in a desperate attempt to fly. Both Jan and the otter stared open mouthed as she hit the water with the most almighty splash.

"Good god..." gasped the otter as Jan let him drop back onto the dock. He was overjoyed that he had not caused offence to the great bear and then felt guilt at the happy rush when a lady was in the most direst of straits. Jan was already running for the stairs while peeling off his massive blue woollen jumper. When the rabbit surfaced the otter breathed out a sigh of relief. Cursing, sputtering and wild splashing were all good signs following a good dunking.

Jan was forced to do a silly little jig on one foot at the top of the stone steps. He had nearly crashed headlong into four screaming children who were dashing up the stairs. They flew past him while bawling something about floating. He frowned and then resumed his charge to the rescue. He dove into the cold water and before long was dragging the unhappy rabbit safely to the steps to much applause and cheering from the other fishermen who had come running to lend assistance.

Anna found herself cold, shivering and in the arms of perhaps the largest man she had ever seen. Or almost seen. She had lost her glasses in the sea and so could only see the dark outline of his face. Sucking air in a series of hiccups that were perilously close to becoming an attack of hysterics she reached out and touched his cheek.

"Thank..." she hiccupped "You". The only reply she received was a grunt.

"Bloody 'ell missus. Whart ewe gew'n do that fahr?" one of the onlookers called out, brandishing the bent remains of her front wheel.

Anna thought for a moment. "It was...this big!" she replied finally while throwing her arms wide. "I...thought I could surprise it. Y'know...tackle it. Slippery devil got away."

Laughter erupted from the harbour and the fishermen looked at her with admiration. The fact that her light dress was now effectively see-through made those looks linger a touch longer. Before long she was carried as easily as a child into the Harbour Tavern for a warm blanket and a large brandy. Outside Elias had finally caught up with her. He was leant on the wall of the tavern with a stitch and out of breath he looked as if he was about to expire.

"One way...to make an impression." he puffed to himself with a grin and shake of his head while pushing off the bricks to begin gathering the remains of her bicycle.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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The Ballad of DeLeon: Part 3
Last in pool

Ms DeLeon finds an ally, and experiences a minor mishap.

Keywords
fox 231,819, rabbit 127,828, family 6,205, sea 5,741, accident 2,214, puppies 790, rescue 702, exploring 430
Details
Type: Writing - Document
Published: 13 years, 3 months ago
Rating: General

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