Sinking Deeper by Steve Vernon

Author:Steve Vernon [Vernon, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Humorous Stories, Lifestyles, Country Life, JUVENILE FICTION/Biographical/Canada, JUVENILE FICTION/Family/Marriage & Divorce, JUVENILE FICTION/Lifestyles/Country Life
ISBN: 9781551098807
Google: 8rFAYgEACAAJ
Amazon: 155109777X
Barnesnoble: 155109777X
Publisher: NIMBUS
Published: 2011-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Muddy Lake Manoeuvres

Nobody in Deeper Harbour really knows just how deep Muddy Lake is, but it’s a fair bet that the bottom is awfully close to forever. The lake sits about half a mile out of town and feeds into the ocean just outside of the harbour through a winding stream we call the Drain.

There is a story passed around of a skidoo accident that happened many years ago. It seems a group of Scouts were on an ice-fishing trip. They were scooting across the ice when it cracked open, sending all three of the skidoos to the bottom of the lake. My dad says that it’s nothing but an old story that people tell to scare kids away from the thin ice—only Granddad Angus said differently.

“It’s a sad, true story,” Granddad Angus told me. “The ice opened up like a giant mouth, swallowed them up, and turned them into ice cubes.”

True or not, the story is soaked indelibly into the soggy annals of Deeper Harbour history. Kids around here say you can still hear the ghosts of those Scouts howling like wolves and reciting their Cub Scout promises on lonely, full-moon nights.

“Ice is funny that way,” Granddad Angus said. “You can look at it and it looks fine, but underneath the surface the rot has set in. The water, deep and warm, eats away at the strength of the ice. Things change, even if you can’t see it happening.”

And that spot on Muddy Lake was exactly where Granddad Angus wanted to test Fogopogo.

Warren backed his old station wagon, towing a gigantic wooden boat trailer, up to the boat shed. We loaded Fogopogo onto the trailer and covered it up with an industrial-sized tarp held down with some bungee cords and a whole lot of duct tape.

We drove away before the sun came up. I had told Mom that Granddad Angus was taking me fishing. I was getting pretty good at telling lies. I felt bad about that, but Granddad Angus always says that a storyteller needs to be a pretty good liar. Besides, it was nice to be good at something.

“This fog gets any thicker,” Warren fussed, “and I’m apt to drive us into the water, dory and all.”

“The fog is what we want,” Granddad Angus said. “It’ll add to the air of illusion. That’s why I picked today for the monster test launch.”

“Should I go down Main Street?” Warren wanted to know.

“How else are we going to get out of town?” Granddad Angus replied. “Besides, this is Deeper Harbour. Seeing a trailer rolling down Main Street with a boat-sized, tarpaulin-wrapped shape on the back is not going to make anyone raise an eyebrow.”

As we rolled down Main Street and past the police station, I thought I saw Dad waving at us. Or maybe I just imagined I saw him. As we got to the end of the street, I looked back. I still thought I could see Dad standing there in front of the police

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