Chapter 29
Fridays are always fun, but the morning of the Fogopogo Festival looked to be one of the biggest and most important days in the history of Deeper Harbour.
The day started with a parade, the highlight of which was the dancing fishermen and their dragon. Wearing gumboots and waving the sailcloth dragon, the twelve fishermen made a fine spectacle of themselves.
Following the parade everyone gathered down at the wharf, just waiting to see the sea monster. The fogginess of the weather seemed like a guarantee that Fogopogo would make an appearance. At least that’s what the festival planners were counting on.
I knew that Granddad Angus would make it happen. Fogopogo was going to be out there.
There was no way he would miss out on this.
There were people here from all over. I had never seen so many people crowded onto the wharf. I was a little worried the whole thing would tip into the ocean and float them away.
The prime minister showed up in a big black limousine and Mom and me and Warren and Molly piled in with him. I guess it had been Warren’s letter that had done the trick.
The limousine was huge. In fact, I think they had to helicopter the limo into town because there was just no way I could imagine it making all the turns on the only road that led into Deeper Harbour.
Dulsie had refused to join us. She’d had her own idea and set up a face-painting booth in the shade of a big old birch tree just beside the boat shed, so she could take care of the sea serpent egg and t-shirts. She was making money painting the faces of the kids and some of the grown-ups who had forgotten that they weren’t kids anymore. I know that might not sound like a big deal to anybody but I knew how happy Dulsie was getting a chance to use her face-painting skills for something that made sense to anyone else but herself.
As for me, I just couldn’t stop smiling. This was exactly how things were supposed to turn out. It was like everything had come true the way I had seen it happen in my dreams.
It was fate.
Warren sat there for the whole ride with his mouth hanging open and his eyes goggled wide, staring blankly, not knowing what to say. A couple of times he opened his mouth and closed it, like a mackerel flopping on the dock. I believe he actually thought words were coming out. Molly sat there next to Warren, grinning like somebody had made her the queen of everything, and I don’t think that had anything to do with the prime minister being in town.
“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Molly told me.
As we drove along Main Street, the crowd all waved and cheered. Even those folks who had made a big deal out of bragging about how they hadn’t even voted for this prime minister were there cheering along. This was a big day for Deeper Harbour—all of these tourists and the prime minister too—and everybody in town was determined to show their appreciation.
Personally, I didn’t really see what the big deal was. I mean, the guy didn’t look much like a prime minister ought to. He looked more like a middle-aged accountant or maybe a geography teacher. He had soft grey hair, faded into the colour of newsprint. He had heavy cheeks that sagged from his face like a pair of tired-out sails. Worse yet were his pointy nose and about three and a half chins that receded gradually into his flabby neck.
He did have a nice smile, although I noticed it mostly came out when a camera was pointed in his direction. It was like he had a secret mutant spider sense that some how homed in on the click of a camera shutter.
Mom gushed a bit and talked like a mayor for a while and then it was my turn. I had been sitting there thinking hard about what I would say to the prime minister of Canada, but the best I could up with was something lame.
“So what’s Ottawa like?” I asked.
Like I said, lame.
“It’s a wonderful city,” the prime minister said, ignoring the fact that I had asked one of the lamest and most stupid questions in the universe. “I’m sure you will enjoy it.”
I was beginning to think that might be true. I mean, maybe there was another world out there and maybe it would be kind of interesting to get to visit it.
“Ottawa always reminds me of a little town that grew up to be a city,” the prime minister went on. “Everybody seems to know everybody else, just like here.”
Mom nodded.
Warren made another fish mouth.
“This is really a beautiful little town,” the prime minister told me. “You’re really a lucky boy, growing up here.”
And then he smiled. For just an instant it wasn’t a have-I-told-you-I’m-the-prime-minister kind of smile, but an actual gee-it’s-good-to-see-you kind of smile.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I am kind of lucky.”
We got out of the car and walked through the crowd to the wharf. The town had built a big platform close to Warren’s boat shed. Over the door of the shed, Warren had hung a brand new sign that Granddad Angus had carved him:
“Boudreau’s Boat Building—Home of Fine Dories Since 1832.”
Warren hadn’t been all that sure of the date, but Granddad Angus had assured him that eighteen-anything was historical enough for most people. As an afterthought, Warren had thumbtacked up a bristol board sign that read, “Ask Me About My Historical Stamps.”
After he saw the second sign, the prime minister got a little excited because it turned out that he was a stamp collector as well. He asked Warren a few questions about his collection and Warren got to actually say a few words and a couple of actual sentences rather than just making fish-gawp sounds.
We all stepped up on the platform. It was covered with enough ribbons and bows for half-a-thousand birthday parties. It was kind of neat standing up there beside the prime minister of Canada and my mom and even boring old Warren and Molly, looking at the whole town looking up at me.
Everyone was talking about how grand it was that the prime minister of Canada had come to make a speech in our little town of Deeper Harbour, but I had the feeling that they were more worked up about the chance of somebody famous spotting the sea monster.
Our sea monster.
A part of me felt pleased and proud that we had actually gone and done it. Granddad Angus and Warren and Dulsie and me, we had gone and built ourselves a legend. The whole country would be talking about Deeper Harbour.
This was our monster.
Deeper Harbour’s monster.
I looked at the crowd. I could see Dad down there, standing at the edge of the crowd. I knew he was watching to make sure nobody got trampled.
I also knew he was watching for me.
I waved, thinking that he couldn’t see me.
Except he waved back.
And then a hush fell over the crowd as if a giant wave of silence had swept over them and we finally saw the Deeper Harbour sea monster, slowly pedal-paddling its way into the mouth of the harbour.
I grinned so hard I thought my teeth might break.
Things couldn’t get any better than they were.
And then things got worse.