“This is boring,” said Sicily. 

​

Mona could not disagree with her.  It was boring to be in the cellar, and they had been there for two days. Nanny and the fishermen made a number of delicious meals, but food lost appeal when you did not get enough exercise to be hungry. 

The days dragged on.  Mona and the Hurstons played games in the dim candlelight and helped Nanny fold enough laundry to fill more than all the closets of Pearly Beetle.

​

“Busy work,” hissed Nanny, when Sicily mentioned this fact.  Mona also read to Prince Edward and talked a great deal to the fishermen and Lucie and Sicily.  Sicily was beginning to thaw.  Perhaps it was because the air in the basement was so stuffy there was no room for her to be stuffy also. Lucie and Mona talked of future trips they’d make to the Blackberry Isles.  They wanted to go camping very much.  Lucie couldn’t wait to taste the crabapples that grew wild on the Blackberry Isles. 

​

“They’re so sour, but with a hint of sweet at the same time, like a thought you can’t quite remember,” said Mona.  Her mouth watered for them. 

The girls’ thoughts turned to fall.

“Are you going to go to school on the mainland?” Lucie asked. 

Mona stopped mid-fold on a sheet.  Her mind twisted over desires and memories, thoughts which had never crossed to the shore at all.  It was unbearable that Lucie should ask her about it when they were already in a rather unpleasant place.  Mona was uncomfortable and the thought was unbearable right then.

​

“I don’t know.  Probably not,” said Mona.  It hurt her to say it and she was sorry once she did. 

 The air changed.  Mona could feel Lucie’s anger with her.  Lucie stood up abruptly and walked over to Prince Edward.  They begin a game of jacks.  Mona cheeks blushed and she needed air.  She could stand her cramped quarters no longer. 

When no one was looking, she climbed the stairs and opened the door as quietly as she could.  Fresh, sweet air rushed through her lungs.  Mona was so glad to breathe and feel Pearly Beetle again.  The house was pitch-black.  Mona wanted to see what the ocean was like.  The wind and waves screamed against the walls.  Mona hands shook slightly.  She was not sure that it was a good idea, but had already opened the door when the full thought formed. 

​

Mona clung to the door handle as she was blown back and forth-in came water, fish, driftwood, and more water and out flew Mona-then, in flew Mona and several pounds of seaweed.  Mona screamed.  Drenched, and nearly drowned, she finally managed to shut the door, but not before something else flew through the door. 

Mona fell to the ground, shook her wet mane, and noticed something moving inside an umbrella that had blown and snapped from the hook on the wall. Nanny’s clop and the soft thud of one of the fishermen echoed through the dark house.   Mona stood frozen.

​

“Mona did you open that door?” yelled Nanny.

“Mona, alright?”  asked a fisherman with concern.  The fishermen did not speak much English.

“I’m alright.  I’m dreadfully sorry, Nanny,” said Mona. 

​

Mona wasn’t as sorry sounding as she should be and she didn’t move.  She was scared of the thing in the umbrella.  Nanny, in candlelight, stood with her arms folded.  She started to cross the room, then noticed the thing in the umbrella.

​

“What is it?” she said.  She grabbed the coat rack and poked at the umbrella.   A small head with a long neck and a thin beak poked out of the umbrella.  Nanny shrieked.  Mona smiled and laughed.

“A cormorant,” said Mona. 

“Ah,” said Nanny.  She wiped her forehead.  Lucie had come upstairs too.

“Wow,” said Lucie and smiled at Mona. Their fight was temporarily forgotten.

“Oh, dear,” said Nanny. 

“Where we from-teach cormorants.  They catch fish for fishermen.  We teach this cormorant.  Mona help,” said a fisherman. 

“Well we’re not going to throw him back out, at the moment at least,” said Nanny, “Mona kindly get some fish from the freezer and we’ll all, including the bird, go back downstairs.”

​

The next day, Mona and Lucie were no longer in a fight.  They fed the cormorant together.  The bird’s entrance provided everyone with some well-needed entertainment.  Manx watched the cormorant also.  It nested in the umbrella and would not part from this broken, decrepit object, not even after Mona had made it a nest of rags.  Mona ended up keeping the cormorant as a pet.  Eventually, it fished for her sometimes, but mostly it squawked and nested in its umbrella.  She named it “Phally”, and the bird both entertained and bothered Manx considerably.