Moominpappa at Sea by Tove Jansson Read Free Book Online Page A

understand – I know about everything connected with the sea. It’s like this: what you found was seaweed thrown up by the waves. After a time it becomes soil, real soil. Didn’t you know that?’ Moominpappa laughed, and with his paws out-stretched he seemed to be giving her all the seaweed in the sea.
    Moominmamma started to gather seaweed. She carried it all day, laying it in a crevice in the rock. She would have a patch of garden there by and by. The seaweed had the same warm, dark colour as the soil back home, and its very own touch of purple and orange as well.
    Moominmamma felt calm and happy. She dreamed of carrots, radishes and potatoes, and of how they grew fat and round in the warm soil. She could see green leaves appearing in strong, healthy clusters. She saw them waving in the wind against the blue sea, heavy with tomatoes, peas and beans for the family to eat. She
knew that none of this would come true until the following summer, but it didn’t matter. She had something to dream about. And deep down inside she dreamed most of all of having an apple tree.

    The day was coming to a close. The sound of the hammer up in the lighthouse had stopped long ago, and the swallows were much quieter now. Moominmamma whistled to herself as she walked home through the heather, her arms full of driftwood. Moominpappa had built a hand-rail for her to hold on to, and there were two little beds made of wood in front of the doorway. There was a barrel he had found in the sea, too. It was quite whole, and looked as though it had been green once.
    Somehow, the winding staircase was less frightening now. You just had to be careful not to look down, and it was best to think about something else. Moomintroll was sitting at the table, arranging small round pebbles in little heaps.
    ‘Hallo,’ said Moominmamma. ‘Where’s Pappa?’

    ‘He’s up above, lighting the lamp,’ Moomintroll answered. ‘I wasn’t allowed to go up with him. He’s been there an awful long time.’
    The empty bird’s nest stood on top of the desk. Mamma went on whistling as she piled up the wood by the stove. The wind had died down and the sun was shining through the western window, throwing a warm light over the floor and the white wall.
    When the fire was beginning to glow, Little My crept in through the door and jumped up on the window-sill like a cat. She pressed her nose against the window-pane and made ugly faces at the swallows.
    Suddenly the trap-door opened with a loud noise and Moominpappa climbed down the iron ladder.
    ‘Is it burning well?’ asked Moominmamma. ‘You’ve made some lovely beds for us. And I thought that barrel would be just the thing for salt fish. It seems a pity to use it only for rain-water…’
    Moominpappa went to the window facing south and peered out. Moominmamma looked up quickly and noticed that his tail was quite stiff and the end of it was wagging with irritation. She put some more wood on the fire and opened a tin of herrings. Moominpappa drank his tea without saying a word. When Moominmamma had cleared away, she put the hurricane lamp on the table and said: ‘I remember hearing once that some lighthouses use gas. When the gas is finished it’s quite impossible to light them.’
    Moominpappa got up from the table crying: ‘But you don’t understand, I’m the lighthouse-keeper now! The
lamp must be alight! It’s the whole point. Do you think one can live in a lighthouse without keeping the lamp alight? What would happen to all the boats out there in the dark? They could go aground and sink in front of our very eyes at any moment…’
    ‘He’s right,’ said Little My. ‘And in the morning the beach would be full of drowned Fillyjonks, Mymbles and Whompses, all pale in the face and green with seaweed…’
    ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Moominmamma. She turned to Moominpappa and said, ‘If you can’t get it to light this evening, you will tomorrow, or some other day. And if it won’t work at all,