Moominpappa at Sea (24 page)

Moominpappa and Moomintroll came out on the lighthouse-rock. The new moon was rising in the south-east. A little crescent moon – the beginning of a new month, a darker, autumn month. They walked down towards the heather.

‘Pappa,’ said Moomintroll. ‘I’ve got something to do on the beach. I ought to meet someone there.’

‘All right,’ said Moominpappa. ‘See you tomorrow. So long.’

‘So long,’ said Moomintroll.

Moominpappa walked on over the island. He wasn’t thinking of the crate of whisky or of the point particularly. What did one point matter? He had several of them.

He came to the edge of the water and stood watching the breakers. There was the sea –
his
sea – going past, wave after wave, foaming recklessly, raging furiously, but, somehow, tranquil at the same time. All Moominpappa’s thoughts and speculations vanished. He felt completely alive from the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail. This was a moment to live to the full.

When he turned to look at the island –
his
island – he saw a beam of light shining on the sea, moving out towards the horizon and then coming back towards the shore in long, even waves.

The lighthouse was working.