The Winter Pony Read Online Free PDF Page B

they said. Sometimes they called me Jimmy Pigg, and sometimes only James. And they always said it in the fondest way, with a smile and a thump on my shoulder. Often, there was a biscuit as well, slipped to me from a cupped hand so the other ponies wouldn’t be jealous. “You’re a good lad, James Pigg,” they said.
    It was the first time in my life that I had a name. In the past, I had always been “the pony,” just a
thing
that pulled a cart or dragged a log. But now I felt important.
    We all got names. A lazy old pony on my left became Weary Willy. A small one on my right was named Jehu, the one beside him, Nobby. I heard other names shouted through the wall, from the space where the ponies were stabled. I never saw the ponies in there but learned of Snatcher and Snippets, and Bones and Guts, and so many others that I couldn’t keep track.
    I sometimes heard the sailors singing, and the ship felt safe and happy. But as we went along to the south, the wind blew harder. The sea grew very rough. I saw the men turn anxious faces toward the sky as it filled with wicked clouds.

    There was a terrible storm. It began with wind that howled like a dog. Then the waves got bigger and bigger, and soon the ship was rolling heavily. I had to struggle to stay on my feet as I was driven back and forth against the ends of my stall.
    The ship rolled so far that I thought it would roll right over. Waves came thundering over the side, surging across the deck. They leapt over the icehouse and burst against my stall. I was suddenly belly deep in water, and it slowly drained away.
    For the dogs it was worse. Buried by every wave, they struggled at the ends of their chains. They didn’t bark anymore; they didn’t howl. They whimpered like baby birds, looking around with fear-filled eyes. Even I felt sorry for them.
    The wind grew stronger. The waves grew higher. Packing crates and bags of coal shifted back and forth, battering at the railing and the deckhouse.
    Then a chunk of railing broke away. It tumbled into thesea, and a struggling dog, chained to the wood, paddled furiously for a moment before he was dragged under. He rose again, swimming for all he was worth, then disappeared forever.
    I believed the ship was drowning. It wallowed in the waves like a great hog in a slough of mud. I could smell fear in the men, but they kept at work. Only a few were sailors. Most were scientists and doctors. There was a cook, and a photographer who’d been seasick on the calmest days. But every man turned out to save the ship, and they did it. They pitched coal over the side by the ton. They pumped water from the hull and lifted it up by the bucket.
    A rainbow appeared as they worked. It was the most beautiful rainbow I’d ever seen, huge and bright across the sky. One man saw it and nudged his neighbor, and soon every one of them was looking toward that rainbow. Then the next huge wave collapsed on the deck, and the work began again.
    I lost my balance as the ship pitched sideways. My front legs slithered out from under me, and down I went, crashing forward into the boards. I couldn’t get up and couldn’t lie down, and I thought my legs were about to snap. I heard a wave thundering over the ship, and my stall suddenly filled with water.
    I panicked. I kicked and thrashed on the floor of my stall; I screamed from fear and pain. The sea roared in, covering me again, and little Jehu had to scamper and jump to keep away from my flailing hooves.
    It was a sailor who saw me, a man called Thomas Crean. He shouted for help, and Mr. Oates came running. “Hang on, lad,” he said as he clambered into the stall.
    Just the sound of his voice was calming. I lay heaving on the floor as he untangled my legs. The big round face of Taff Evans peered down at me over the boards. Then he joined Mr. Oates in my stall, and the two of them hauled me to my feet just as my mother had done on the day I was born. They held me up till I found my balance. They braced me