Once Upon an Island

Copyright © 2014 Doug Cariou.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-4641-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-4642-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-4643-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014913553

WestBow Press rev. date: 07/29/2014

Contents

Introduction

Poem

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Once Upon An Island

Prologue

Epilogue

Introduction

T he story ‘Once upon an Island’ appeals to the child in all of us. It also has certain allegorical overtones which can be found in the Epilogue at the end of this book and explain the significance of each character.

The amazing facts and features of this story were not intentional but were revealed to the author as he wrote the book.

This tale may bring to mind the well-known story, ‘Wind in the Willows,’ because it is also a tale of toads and frogs in a Victorian turn of the century British ..(North American)..setting (alluded to for this very reason). However, that’s where the similarity ends as this story weaves fact and fiction together with both real and fictitious people over one hundred and fifty years ago along BC’s west coast. The locations are real and the facts relating to these places are true, weaving another interesting twist to this, otherwise fictitious tale.

The author, Doug Cariou, felt to chronicle this adventurous tale, as a lasting legacy for his six children, Daniel, Katelyn, Josiah, Joshua, Ruth, and Zacharias and wife Lori- the first recipients of the ongoing saga as they went with Dad to his favorite places on the ‘Island’ every year. They are woven into the story as the ‘real’ family (using their middle names). Around the campfire at night the ‘real’ and ‘fictitious’ would, from year to year, come together in greater and greater detail to its recent unique and thought-provoking climax.

The fictional characters in the story are mostly of British extraction as the story takes place in the late 1890’s shortly after the ‘newly formed colony of British Columbia was joined to the British Commonwealth as Dominion of Canada.

So settle down in your favorite chair for an enjoyable few hours as you ‘join the adventure’ of Toadmatoe and friends in..

Poem

Sweeping back the mist shrouded veil

Where the summers of my memories yet live on

I can see through the eyes of my heart

Children – One, two, three

Then four, five and six

Playing in this once so mystical place

A place of sea monsters and dragons…

Where those days setting sun is never known

"Daddy, Daddy, tell us of the great

adventures of Toadmatoe"

Those young voices still echo on

So alone I’ve come back to this place

Just once more ..to see, to listen..

Do the waves remember?

Did the tide record for me?

That ongoing story of a little red frog

And his forever friends.

I’m not drawn here anymore

Yet I hear the wind whispering

Take the pen..

And as I do, the clarity of this children’s story

floods back to me in overflowing fullness and joy

On the horizon a ship appears, just on the horizon

With golden sails it waits for me

I must hurry now to secure this task

The sands are rushing out from under my feet

To meet that very ship…..

Chapter One

H ow shall I start to tell this delitescent tale…April 26, 1896. Yes, a grand year it was. on that beautiful spring day Professor Krokonol of the College of Victoria found himself out in the city park leaping around ….. catching flies.

You’re a big one…oh, ah another, that makes thirty-three he said, just enough for…

Yes, not for an elaborate experiment, as one might think a Professor would be doing with a fresh catch of flies. No, these flies were for his lunch. Yes, lunch! You see the Professor was (all his life, I might add) a frog. A toad to be precise, however a toad of the most extraordinary kind! For how many toads, or frogs for that matter, does one know who are College Professors? Yes, Professor Krokonol was indeed extraordinary, but enough belaboring that point for now.

The Professor was actually taking a break from his research (research of the utmost importance.) Sitting down to eat his meal he seemed to be half expecting someone, as a lesser mood washed over him. He sighed, looking around in the haunting breeze as he turned to gaze deep into the face of his pocket watch. He listened as the tick of its talk recalled to him that it had been three years and seven, to that very day ago, he’d gotten that abrupt knock at his study door…..

Knock – knock –knock, knock, knock!

Hold on, hold on! I’m coming! he said, after such rudeness had roused him from a delightful mid-morning snooze. Getting up he found himself pushing through a great maze of volumes of books, binders, and other finnimbron, all studious and of a collegiate nature literally stacked from floor to ceiling and on every available flat surface of his study. Finally getting there he opened the great oak doors that led out onto a beautiful wrought-iron laced veranda, draped in wisps of ivy that allowed the sunlight to filter through its lightly- breezed-upon-leaves, causing the floor to dance with sparkling bits of light and dark shadow.

Who is it? He said, Looking around, not seeing anyone, he pulled his spectacles down on his.. …whatever that space is between a toad’s protruding eyes.

Well? Who’s there?

Good day, Professor, a young curiously couthy voice replied. Looking down, the Professor was somewhat startled to see young Thadeous Matoe, or, Toadmatoe, as his friends called him, standing there, ever so eager to show the Professor what he had, as he impatiently hopped from one foot to the other. You see Toadmatoe was known to be rather excitable at times, although he also possessed the unusual ability for a tad of his age, which was three months almost exactly to the day (that’s somewhere around the age of thirteen years in human), to be very astute and calculated in his thinking as well, and when he was excited, as was the case this particular morning, it was usually with good cause.

What have you there, my boy? Krokonal asked, noticing Toadmatoe holding a big round something in his hands.

Yes, Professor, this is what I’ve come over to show you!

Well? What is it, boy? What is it?

I don’t know, Professor. This morning Froglit – you do remember my Frog’ish friend, don’t you, Professor?

Ah, well… the Professor tried to remember the unusually abnormal name mumbled.

Well, anyway, Toadmatoe went on, Froglit, this morning,.. that is to say, swam over to my pad to give me this, and told me it was a gift and that he was not to give it to me until my third month birthday, he keeping it in his possession all these many months past, why even and ever since I was born!….As you can imagine to begin with, that is when I saw it…I gasped at it…. then I asked where he got such a thing, and what did he mean not letting me know of it until that very moment, but he said nothing – not a croak!.. simply plopped it down on my lily pad, almost sinking it, looked at me and swam off, and as you can see, because of it, I had to bring it here to you…..can you tell me what it is? he finished, having said all of this in one great and excited toad breath.

Well, I’m not sure, Toadmatoe, the Professor said rubbing what would have been whiskers if he’d had any, Bring it in, here. Let me have a look at it. Putting it under a considerably intrusive looking device, the professor pulled his unusual spectacles down again. He cranked some brass knobs on the strange glass-lensed instrument. Strange that is to say, to Toadmatoe, at any rate, who in all the many visits he’d made to the Professor’s study, and although he had grown accustomed to the Professor’s telescope or even his anticathera device, had never seen a microscope before.

What is it? Toadmatoe asked.

Good question, the Professor replied ponderingly. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I don’t know what kind of material it is either, referring to its unexplainably curious substance, while Toadmatoe was referring to the strange instrument.

Where did your friend say he got this from? The professor said.

Beg pardon? Toadmatoe’s eyes blinked in curiosity as he replied. Ah, he didn’t say, Professor, He didn’t say at all."

Well, can you bring this fellow here? I mean will he meet with me? With you and I ..tonight – as soon as possible?

Why, yes, Professor, I’m sure I can get him here! After all, it is my thirteenth grand-day. Oh where do the month’s hop to? the young toad laughed to himself. I’ll just tell him that you’re having a party for me, in my honor. Toadmatoe’s melodic word’s ribbited in hushed tones as they meandered down a