Tom Bawcock’s Eve

Long ago, in Cornwall, there was a little fishing village called Mousehole. Its small stone houses stood close together around a snug harbor. Every day, the fishermen sailed out to sea and came home with nets full of fish.

But one winter, a terrible storm came. The wind howled, and huge gray waves crashed against the harbor wall. Day after day, the storm went on, and the fishing boats had to stay tied up in the harbor. Soon the village had no fish left to eat. Christmas was coming, but the cupboards were nearly empty, and the children were hungry.

A brave fisherman named Tom Bawcock looked out at the stormy sea. “I cannot sit here while the children go hungry,” he said. “Tomorrow I will take my boat out, storm or no storm.” “Be careful, Tom!” said his neighbors, with worried faces.

The next morning, Tom sailed his little boat out past the harbor wall. The waves tossed his boat up and down, up and down. But Tom held on tight, and he threw out his nets again and again. All day long he fished, while the wind blew and the rain poured down.

As the sky grew dark, the whole village stood on the harbor wall, watching the sea. Then someone shouted, “Look, there he is!” Tom’s little boat was coming home through the waves. And it was full to the top with fish! There were seven different kinds of fish, shining silver in the lantern light.

Everyone cheered and cheered. Everyone in the village helped to bake a great big pie with all the fish inside. They tucked the fish into the pie so that their heads peeked out of the crust. It looked as if the fish were gazing up at the stars, so they called it stargazy pie. That night, the whole village shared the pie, and nobody went to bed hungry.

Ever since then, on the night of the twenty-third of December, the people of Mousehole remember Tom Bawcock. They light lanterns all around the harbor, and they bake stargazy pie. And they sing a song to say thank you to the brave fisherman who brought them their Christmas supper.