Free [Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman by Brian Jacques

when I heard the thunder, as if he were reaching for us.”
    Neb scratched behind his dog’s ear. “Aye, I felt the ship was close somewhere—it’s a hard thing to drive from your mind. But we’re safe, and we have our angel to thank for it.”
    Den replied with his usual dry wit. “We have a lot to thank that angel for. I’ll bet it was the angel who taught Luis to make mutton stew taste so heavenly.”
    The shepherd had been watching them both closely. Handing Neb a bowl of tea, he chuckled. “Talking to Señor Den again, eh, boy? What did he say to you?”
    Neb winked secretively at Luis. “He says your mutton stew tastes heavenly.”
    The shepherd rocked back and forth as he laughed. “What a good dog he is. Truthful, too!”
    Neb took his tea to the door and opened it halfway. “Just look at that rain coming down. I’ll sit here and take first watch on the pen.”
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    Shortly after midnight the storm’s intensity doubled. Thunder boomed overhead like a cannon, lightning sheeted and crackled over the headlands, and the rain drove sideways on the wind, spattering heavily on the hut’s outer rock wall. Neb and Den lay asleep in the old lifeboat. Luis kept watch by the door, holding it half open against the elements with one foot. Bleating piteously, the sheep flattened themselves against the ground. A hard gust of wind slammed the door shut. Luis winced, rubbing his foot where the door timbers had cracked against his ankle. He leaned forward, thrusting the door open again.
    The wind had torn the pen down. The flock was loose. Den’s bark, close to Neb’s ear, roused him into wakefulness. Luis was grabbing his crookstaff from its hanger, pulling his coat about him and shouting.
    â€œHurry, friend. The pen is destroyed, our sheep are running. I’ll turn them from the cliffs. You save the ewes and get them inside the hut here. Vamos! ”
    The old shepherd ran out and was soon lost to sight in the rainswept darkness. Den was ahead of Neb as he struggled into his poncho and dashed outside. The next hour was an onslaught of furious activity. A stray ewe charged right into Neb, knocking him flat and winding him. The boy hung grimly on to the bleating creature and dragged it by one ear and its tail across the pasture and into the hut. Den was already back with two ewes he had driven before him. One was already giving birth at the back of the hut; the other lay against the keel of the lifeboat maaahing for all it was worth. Shaking rainwater from his coat, Den trotted past Neb, communicating a hasty thought.
    â€œStay here with them, help them as Luis showed you. I’ll find Luis and bring him back here with the other ewes!” The boy set about putting water to heat on the fire; he gathered as many clean flour sacks as he could find. Turning his attention to the ewe in the far corner, Neb found she had already delivered herself of a lamb and was licking the little creature. Both mother and babe appeared to be getting along quite well, so he went after the ewe he had brought in. It panicked, staggering upright and leading him on a chase around the hut. He tripped over the third ewe as it came from beneath the lifeboat. The one he was chasing butted the door and fled outside. The boy dashed out, stopped momentarily, then, ignoring the ewe, ran for the cliffs with his dog’s urgent call ringing through his brain!
    â€œNeb, Neb, Luis has fallen over the cliff!”
    The Labrador was barking aloud, looking over the cliff edge as Neb hurried up and threw himself flat at the rim of the plateau. About twenty feet below him, he could barely make out Luis, lying on a ledge. The old shepherd had a ewe in his arms; both were lying still. Neb sent Den back to the hut for a rope, then he climbed down the slippery rock, clawing at any niche he could get his freezing fingers into. Sliding and stumbling, he reached the ledge.