Chapter 19
We had to wait three more days for another foggy morning.
By now nearly everyone in the town had seen the video of Fogopogo. Nora hooked up a wall-sized television in her diner so that everyone could watch it. Opinions were divided about just whether the blurry image on the video was a sea monster or not.
While we waited for the fog to roll in, we hid Fogopogo in the belly of a tidal cove that was sheltered by a thicket of pine trees. It was a perfect hiding spot that allowed us to work at keeping the sea monster patched up and running without being discovered by any curious townsfolk.
We set off on our next excursion before the sun rose, sliding out carefully into the ocean water and aiming ourselves towards that big old cape of a rock that hooked out around the harbour like a fat man’s arm around a plate full of beans. I was still afraid of tipping over, but the ballast we had set in the belly of the dory monster seemed to keep it at an even keel.
So far, so good.
The fishermen were out again. This time they didn’t even seem to notice us. They were far too busy tending to their lines and cleaning their boats and making certain that everything was ready for the day. That was just how fishermen were, no matter what time of day it was. Everything revolved around the boat that they staked their lives on and the prospect of their next catch. A little thing like a sea monster wasn’t going to upset their daily routine.
This time I could see the purple minivan parked just beside Warren’s boat shed.
That minivan was more important than the fishermen. The monster-hunters were bound to help spread the word even further.
I could see a few more people out there as well. It looked as if every customer in Nora’s Diner had cleared out from the early breakfast special and lined up in front of the restaurant, gawking out into the harbour.
Which was about when one of the fishing boats burped and chuttered to life and started heading straight towards us. It might have been the same boat that had blown its horn at us on our first trip out. We were too far away to tell, and even though we knew all those fishermen by name, through the fog all their boats looked the same.
About the only thing that we could be certain of was that he was definitely determined to give us chase.
“Turn it hard, Roland,” Granddad Angus ordered. “Warren, you ease off.”
Warren eased up on his pedal-paddling and I turned the pedal as hard as I could. The monster swung around slowly.
“Pedal harder,” Dulsie said.
All the while, the fishing boat kept getting closer. I expected that the captain was trying to figure just how much per pound a full-grown sea monster was going to net him, but I was determined not to let him catch us.
Still, a pedal-paddling dory monster isn’t much of a match for a six-hundred-horsepower engine. We really didn’t stand much of a chance until Granddad Angus stepped into action. He woofed menacingly into the moose call.
I couldn’t be certain, but I believe the fishing boat slowed down a little after that woof. Meanwhile, Warren and I kept on working the pedal-paddles, and Dulsie slipped the backup oars into their locks and began to row just as hard as she could. It helped a bit, but the boat kept getting closer.
“Steer for the shallows,” Granddad Angus said. “Once we put those rocks behind us that fishing boat is bound to head for easier waters.”
Granddad Angus had calculated correctly.
Or else the fishing boat captain had reconsidered running his boat up against a sea monster.
“Next time bring a bigger boat!” Dulsie called out playfully, once we were far enough around the harbour mouth to be out of sight.
I was still scared. Nearly being caught didn’t help my worry at all.
“What if they had caught us?” I asked.
“They probably would have thrown us back,” Warren said. “Your grandfather would have made for some pretty tough cleaning.”
Warren’s joke didn’t stop me from worrying. What if next time they sent out the Coast Guard? What if next time they had a navy destroyer waiting for us? What if we were shelled with cannon fire or depth charges?
Suddenly, this whole idea didn’t seem half as fun.
“This is Deeper Harbour,” Granddad Angus told me after I confided my fear. “The only depth charges we need to worry about are the ones that follow the church’s baked-bean and brown-bread supper.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
“We could try taking Fogopogo out at night,” Warren suggested. “We’d catch two fish with one hook that way. We’d be a whole lot more concealed and we wouldn’t have to worry about waiting for the fog to roll in.”
That made sense to me but Granddad Angus thought differently.
“The first three letters in Fogopogo tells it all, as far as I’m concerned. Fog is a part of the mystery of the story,” he said. “Besides, I need my sleep.”
He was being funny but I knew that he was right. Keeping to foggy mornings meant that sooner or later people would clue in and start watching the harbour every morning a little fog rolled in. It made it easier to guarantee a built-in audience.
Just so long as the four of us didn’t get caught.