by Tove Jansson
“And a rotten boat it made, too!” said Moominmamma, crossly, and she stepped ashore. “I wouldn’t have it for anything in the world!”
“Don’t annoy him,” whispered the little creature. “He may bite!”
“Rubbish,” said Moominmamma. “Come along now, children.” And on they walked along the shore, while the Hemulen examined the wet stuffing in his chair.
“Look!” said Moomintroll, pointing to a marabou stork who was walking around, scolding to himself. “I wonder what he’s lost – he looks even angrier than the Hemulen!”
“Little impudent child,” said the marabou stork, for he had good ears. “If you were nearly a hundred years old and had lost your spectacles, you wouldn’t exactly look pleased, either.” And then he turned his back to them and continued his search.
“Come along now,” said Moominmamma. “We must look for your father.”
She took Moomintroll and the little creature by the hand and hurried on. After a while they saw something gleaming in the grass where the water had subsided. “I bet it’s a diamond!” cried the little creature. But when they looked more closely, they saw that it was only a pair of spectacles.
“They’re the marabou stork’s, don’t you think, mother?” asked Moomintroll.
“Must be,” she said. “You had better run back and give them to him. But hurry up, for your poor father is sitting somewhere hungry and wet and all alone.”
Moomintroll ran as fast as he could on his short legs, until in the distance he saw the stork poking about in the water. “Hello there, hello!” he cried. “Here are your spectacles, Uncle Stork!”
“Well, fancy that!” said the marabou stork, very pleased. “Perhaps you are not such an impossible little child after all.” And then he put on his spectacles and turned his head this way and that.
“I really must go at once,” said Moomintroll. “You see, we’re searching too.”
“Well, well, I see,” said the marabou stork in a friendly voice. “What for?”
“My father,” said Moomintroll. “He’s up a tree somewhere.”
The marabou stork thought for a long time. Then he said firmly: “You will never manage it alone. But I will help you, because you found my spectacles.”
Then he picked up Moomintroll in his beak, very carefully, and put him on his back, flapped his wings a few times and sailed away over the shore.
Moomintroll had never flown before, and he thought it was tremendous fun, and a little scary. He was also quite proud when the marabou stork landed beside his mother and the little creature.
“I am at your service in the matter of searches, madam,” said the marabou stork, bowing to Moominmamma. “If the family will climb on board we shall effect our departure at once.” And then he lifted first her and then the little creature, who squeaked with excitement. “Hold on tight,” he said. “We’re going to fly out over the water now.”
“I think this is the most wonderful thing we’ve been through so far,” said Moominmamma. “Why, flying is not nearly as frightening as I thought. Now keep a good look out for Moominpappa in all directions!”
The marabou stork flew in wide circles and came in low over each tree-top. They saw a lot of people sitting amidst the branches, but none of them was who they were looking for. “I shall have to rescue those Creeps over there later on,” said the marabou stork, who had become really inspired by the rescue expedition. He flew to and fro above the water for a long time, the sun began to set, and everything seemed quite hopeless.
Suddenly Moominmamma cried: “There he is!” and began to wave her arms so wildly that she nearly fell off.
“Papa!” shouted Moomintroll, and the little creature cried out too, out of pure sympathy.
There, on one of the highest branches of an enormous tree sat a wet, sad Moominpappa, staring out over the water. Beside him he had tied a distress flag. He was so amazed and delighted when the marabou stork landed in the tree, and the whole of his family climbed down onto the branches, that he could not say a word. “Now we shall never be separated again,” sniffed Moominmamma, and took him in her arms. “How are you? Have you caught cold? Where have you been all this time? Was the house you built a very fine one? Did you think of us often?”
“It was a very fine house, alas,” said Moominpappa. “My dear little boy, how you have grown!”
“Well, well,” said the marabou stork, who was beginning to feel touched. “I think I had better put you down on dry land and try to rescue a few more before the sun goes down. It’s very pleasant, rescuing people.” And then he took them back to the shore while they all talked at the same time about all the dreadful things they had been through. All along the shore people had lit fires at which they were warming themselves and cooking food, for most had lost their homes. The marabou stork put down Moomintroll, his father and mother and the little creature at one of the bonfires, and with a hasty farewell he flew out over the water again.
“Good evening,” said the two angler fish who had lit the fire. “Do sit down, the soup will be ready in a moment.”
“Thank you very much,” said Moominpappa. “You have no idea what a fine house I had before the flood. Built it all by myself. But if I get a new one, you will be welcome any time.”
“How big was it?” asked the little creature.
“Three rooms,” said Moominpappa. “One sky-blue, one sunshine-yellow and one spotted. And a guest room in the attic for you, little creature.”
“Did you really mean us to live there too?” asked Moominmamma, very pleased.
“Of course,” he said. “I looked for you always, everywhere. I could never forget our dear old stove.”
Then they sat and told one another about their experiences and ate soup until the moon had risen and the fires began to go out along the shore. Then they borrowed a blanket from the angler fish and curled up close next to one another and fell asleep.
Next morning the water had gone down a good way, and they all went out into the sunshine in a very good mood. The little creature danced in front of them and tied a bow in his tail because he was so happy. All day they walked, and wherever they went it was beautiful, for after the rain the most wonderful flowers had come out everywhere and the trees had both flowers and fruit. They only needed to shake a tree slightly, and the fruit fell down around them.
At last they came to a small valley that was more beautiful than any they had seen that day. And there, in the midst of the meadow, stood a house that almost looked like a tall stove, very elegant and painted blue. “Why, that’s my house!” cried Moominpappa, quite beside himself with joy. “It must have floated here, and here it is!”
“Hurrah!” shouted the little creature, and then they all rushed down into the valley to admire the house. The little creature even climbed up on the roof, and there he shouted even louder, for up on the chimney hung a necklace of large, real pearls that had lodged there during the flood.
“Now we are rich!” he cried. “We can buy a car and an even bigger house!”
“No,” said Moominmamma. “This house is the most beautiful one we could ever have.”
And then she took Moomintroll by the hand and went into the sky-blue room. And there in the valley they spent the whole of their lives, apart from a few times when they left it and travelled for a change.
TOVE JANSSON
(1914–2001)
TOVE JANSSON is Scandinavia’s best-known and best-loved children’s author. Having published sketches, illustrations and cartoons from the age of 15, she was already a respected artist when her first book, The Moomins and the Great Flood, was published in 1945. Written in the shadow of war, this introduced an early version of Moomintroll and the characters and themes of the stories for which she would become internationally renowned. Eight Moomin novels followed – most famously Finn Family Moomintroll – along with three picture books, and a long series of syndicated cartoon strips (which were eventually taken over by Tove’s brother, Lars).
&nbs
p; The Moomin books feature a cast that have become icons of both design and children’s literature: the brave, gentle Moomin and his ever-resourceful Moominmama and adventurous Moominpapa, the wandering, philosophical Snufkin, the tentative Sniff, the minute yet strident Little My, the appealing Snork Maiden (Moomin’s best friend), humourless Hemulens, bizarrely electric Hattifatteners, and the fearful Groke … among many other brightly surreal characters.
After her last Moomin novel, Moominvalley in November, Tove Jansson began writing books chiefly for adults, beginning with The Summer Book – which evoked her own summer life on an island in the Gulf of Finland. She wrote three further novels and five short story collections, many of which have been published by Sort Of Books.
Other Tove Jansson titles
published by Sort Of Books
Moomin books
The Book about Moomin, Mymble and Little My
Who Will Comfort Toffle?
The Dangerous Journey
Apps for iPads and other devices
The Book about Moomin, Mymble and Little My
Novels and short story collections
The Summer Book
A Winter Book
Fair Play
The True Deceiver
Travelling Light
Art in Nature
Copyright
The Moomins and the Great Flood: originally published in Swedish as Småtrollen och den stora översvämningen.
Text and illustrations © Tove Jansson 1945, 1991
English translation copyright © David McDuff 2012
ePub 978-1908745149
