Whistler and Lila, holding tight to Huck’s back, were searching and searching the sea. And this was not easy. The ocean is vast, and even a whale will be but a speck in its waters. And if you are searching through tiny mouse eyes from the back of an old cormorant, your job will be especially hard.
“Oh, dear,” said Lila after they had searched for what seemed several hours, “how will we ever find her?”
Whistler peered down toward the miles and miles of open sea.
“We will,” he said.
“But what if we don’t?” asked Lila.
“We will,” said Whistler.
“What’s all that yacking back there?” yelled Huck. It was so windy Huck could barely hear the small voices on his back.
“Lila says she’s sure we will find the mother!” yelled Whistler, grinning at his sister. Lila could not help grinning back.
“Who’s got a brother?” yelled Huck.
Whistler just laughed and shook his head.
And they all kept searching.
Another hour passed. And another. And yet another.
And as long as the two children and the old bird stayed in the air longer and longer, the cormorant’s age began to show. His flapping slowed. His flying wobbled. And sometimes he lost altitude and Lila was sure they were about to crash.
“Are you okay?” Whistler would yell.
“Did what today?” Huck would yell back.
Whistler and Lila exchanged worried looks and held tighter to the old bird’s back. The day was growing darker. They had to be home by night. And there still was no mother, and now with Huck wheezing and wobbling and . . .
“Look!” yelled Lila.
“Where?” asked Whistler.
“Out there,” Lila pointed. “Way out there,” she said firmly.
“I don’t see anything,” said Whistler.
“I do,” said Lila. She crawled closer to Huck’s ear.
“Turn left, Huck,” she shouted. “Left toward the horizon!”
“You don’t have to yell,” complained the bird. “I can hear just fine.”
He turned left and flew.
“Keep going, keep going,” said Lila. “They’re out there.”
“Who?” asked Whistler, trying hard to see what Lila saw.
“The whole pod,” said Lila. “The whole pod of belugas!”
And sure enough, as Huck covered the water, all three began to see a marvelous pod of white whales swimming and spouting up ahead.
“Hooray!” shouted Whistler.
When they were finally above the whales, Whistler called to one.
“May we land?” he called.
“Excuse me?” the whale replied.
“May we land on your back?” Whistler called.
“Pardon me?” said the whale.
“Oh, posh,” said Huck, and he simply did it. He landed on the whale’s back.
“Hey!” said the whale.
“Don’t worry,” said Whistler, climbing off Huck’s back and onto the whale’s. “We’re just looking for a beluga named Honey. We found her baby.”
“You found Honey’s baby?” cried the whale. “Oh, joy!”
“Marilyn!” the beluga called to the whale in front of him. “They’ve found Honey’s baby!”
“Honey’s baby?” said Marilyn.
“Freddie!” she called to the beluga in front of her. “They’ve found Honey’s baby!”
And so the calling went, through the pod, one whale to the next, until Honey—Sebastian’s poor, frantic, unhappy mama—was found.
She swam to the mouse children.
“We’ve been searching everywhere!” Honey told Whistler and Lila. “Everywhere!”
Her eyes filled up with tears.
“Is my baby all right?” she asked.
“He’s great!” said Whistler. “He’s at our house!”
“Your house?” asked Honey.
“You’ll see,” said Whistler. “Just follow us. Hurry!”
He climbed back up on Huck.
“Let’s go, Huck!” said Whistler.
“Let’s go!” said Lila, climbing up.
And Huck tried to go. He wanted to go. He flapped his feeble wings and worked to go.
But he just couldn’t.
“I’m all out of gas, kids,” Huck said with a tired old wheeze. “These old bones just aren’t going to make it.”
He gave a heavy sigh.
“You go on and ride back with Honey. I’ll stay out here tonight and rest up.”
“Go back without you?” cried Lila.
“Never!” said Whistler.
“You’re the hero, Huck,” said Lila, patting his old head. “You have to come back with us. In fact, we won’t leave without you.”
Huck frowned. (Though deep down he was happy.)
“I will gladly give all of you a ride,” said Honey.
Huck continued to frown.
“Please, Huck,” said Lila.
“Sir,” said Honey, “I am very anxious to see my baby, so I must ask you, please. You have done your noble duty.”
Huck liked that word—noble—very much.
“All right, all right,” he grumbled, settling down on Honey’s back. “I just hope no pelicans see me.”
“We’ll tell them you’re a hero, Huck,” said Whistler.
“Our hero,” added Lila.
Huck coughed and hacked and tried his very best not to smile.
But he did anyway. Just a little.
Then they all journeyed home on the back of a whale.
Pandora was wise enough to keep the lamp burning in the lighthouse, just in case Huck and the children were unable to keep their promise to be home before dark. And indeed it was the light that helped Honey find her way to the correct shore and to the lagoon where her little one waited.
When the mother whale swam nearer the lagoon, she and her passengers saw a wonderful sight. Pandora and Seabold were sitting on top of a rock—Tiny perched in Seabold’s cap—and they were feeding the baby whale big spoonfuls of vegetable stew.
“Sebastian!” called the mother beluga.
The little whale’s head turned.
“Mama!” he cried, bits of carrot falling from his mouth.
Oh, it was a joyous reunion. Huck flew off the whale’s back and deposited the mice children safely on shore, where they were hugged tight again and again. And the happy beluga mother and son swam around and around, nudging heads close, nestling their bodies together, clicking and singing and laughing.
When all the hellos were over and the time had finally come for good-byes, Whistler asked baby Sebastian, “Will you ever come back to see us?”
“I will always come back to see you,” answered Sebastian. “I am your friend forever.”
And with that, and their deepest thanks, mother whale and baby swam off to join their pod.
It was night now, and suddenly the mouse children felt so very weary.
“Pandora, is there any more stew?” asked Whistler.
“Plenty more,” answered Pandora. “Plenty for everyone. Including you, our good friend, Huck.”
The old bird coughed and shook his feathers.
“No need to bother,” he said.
“It’s no bother, Huck,” said Seabold. “Why, a bowl of stew is the least we can do for your noble effort today.”
There was that word again, that word that Huck liked so much: noble.
“Please come with us, Huck,” said Lila, taking the old bird’s wing.
So they all walked back to the cottage, where Pandora and Seabold ladled out big thick bowls of stew and watched with pleasure as the old bird and the children ate and ate and ate.
After supper, Huck was given Seabold’s favorite chair, to rest his wings before going home.
But the old cormorant fell asleep and would not wake until morning.
The three mouse children, lovingly tucked into their warm sock-bed by the fire, were also asleep before Pandora could even ki
ss them good night.
And out in the vast dark waters of the ocean, a mother and a baby were a family again. Soon they would join their larger family, amid those happy calls with which lost ones are always welcomed home.
For everyone, it had been quite an adventurous day.
CYNTHIA RYLANT
is the author of numerous distinguished novels and picture books for young readers. In addition to her beginning-reader series, Henry and Mudge, Poppleton, and Mr. Putter and Tabby, as well as her Cobble Street Cousins early-chapter series, she is also the author of Newbery Medal–winning Missing May, the Newbery Honor Book A Fine White Dust, and two Caldecott Honor–winning picture books.
PRESTON MCDANIELS
has illustrated four titles in the God and Sparrow series, including Sabine Baring-Gould’s Now the Day is Over and Herbert F. Brokering’s Earth and All Stars. He is currently working with Christopher L. Webber on a series of illustrated psalms, the first of which is Praise the Lord, My Soul: Psalm 104 for Children, and is the illustrator of the first Lighthouse Family book. He lives in Aurora, Nebraska, with his wife and two daughters.
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Text copyright © 2003 by Cynthia Rylant
Illustration copyright © 2003 by Preston McDaniels
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or part in any form.
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster.
The text for this book is set in Centaur.
The illustrations for this book are rendered in graphite.
CIP Data for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 0-689-84881-1
Cynthia Rylant, The Whale
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