The skittering claw

THE STORY SO FAR: Tommy Cawler is an unusually short 13-year-old. So short, in fact, that he is often mistaken for a 9-year-old. He finds out he is going to spend his summer vacation on a remote island in Maine with a grandfather he has never met. Tommy takes the 12-hour bus ride alone from his home in Fox Crossing, Mass., to his Grampa’s place in Maine, where his grandfather introduces him to Teeg, his Maine coon cat. In the middle of his second night on the island, Tommy, awakened by Teeg, watches from his window in horror as Grampa releases to the ocean a beautiful wooden model sailing dory that he had made. Tommy, who had assumed the boat was going to be a birthday gift for him, races to the water’s edge, dives in, and tries to swim to the boat as it heads toward a nearby island. Minutes later, he washes ashore. Thousands of creatures, too small to see, swarm all over him, biting him so fiercely that he falls into a deep sleep.

When Tommy Cawler finally woke up, at first he thought he was under a heavy blanket. Then he realized he was lying on a bed of rocks, and whatever was covering his head, it couldn't be a blanket and he certainly wasn't in his bed.

The last thing he remembered was crawling up on the shore, a blur of something small, and then the pain of tiny teeth biting him in the legs and ankles. What were those small creatures? He'd barely seen them in the darkness but there was something eerily familiar about them -- and something so mysterious he couldn't quite hold it in his mind.

When he was finally able to fight his way clear of the heavy material, Tommy found himself in the bright light of the rising sun.

That's when he realized that he wasn't wearing any clothes. Gasping in embarrassment, he rushed back to the pile of blanket-like material and hid himself from view. Not that anyone could see him.

What had happened? He'd been wearing pajamas when he jumped into the water, right? Had they somehow slipped off when he crawled up on the rocky beach?

Tommy found himself staring at the pattern on the pile of blanket-like material where he was hiding. There was something familiar about that, too. What was it, exactly? What did it remind him of?

Pajamas. There were wide blue-and-green stripes on the heavy material, just as there were blue-and-green stripes on his pajamas. Except, of course, these stripes where much, much larger.

That's when Tommy realized he was hiding under the left leg of his own pajamas, which had for some reason become large enough to cover a house, let alone a small boy.

No, it wasn't possible!

Tommy was trying to wrap his mind around the idea of giant pajamas, and what that might mean, when he heard a scuttling noise among the rocks and pebbles. The sound of something very large and fearsome coming in his direction.

He was thinking about running for it when something yanked sharply on the material, knocking him down.

The pajamas were dragged away and Tommy found himself looking up into the eyes of a giant crab.

A crab that glistened with dripping seawater. A crab that looked exactly like the creatures he'd seen in the tide pools yesterday, only much, much larger. A crab as tall as a big dog, but wider, and with enormous, angry-looking claws. The crab's alien-looking eyes were on stalks that dipped and shifted as the beast studied him.

Good to eat, the eyes seemed to decide.

Tommy rolled away just as a huge claw snapped shut at precisely where he'd been. The giant crab's other claw -- slightly smaller but no less fearsome -- swept the air just above his head and then it, too, snapped shut on the pajamas.

The giant crab lurched in the sand, legs skittering, as it tried to free its jagged claws from the clinging pajamas.

Tommy's heart was beating so fast it made him feel dizzy. Or maybe it was being terrified that made him dizzy. Or maybe, just maybe, it was his brain trying to figure out a way to explain how his pajamas got so big, and why harmless tide-pool crabs were suddenly as large and menacing as attack dogs.

As Tommy desperately crawled through the gravel, his heart in his mouth, he knew there was only one explanation: His pajamas hadn't gotten bigger and the crab wasn't really a giant.

He was smaller than ever. Much, much smaller.

Judging by the blades of ordinary grass at the edge of the island, he was no more than 10 inches tall! What had happened to him? How had he gotten so small? Did it have something to do with the mysterious little creatures that had attacked him last night?

Before he could think about it, the crab ripped its claws free of the pajamas, rose up on its hind legs, and then advanced like a tank rolling into battle. A tank with massive claws, eyes on stalks, and a horrible little mouth that clicked open and shut, waiting to be fed.

Tommy looked around for a weapon. He grabbed a fist-sized rock and hurled it with all his might. The rock clanked harmlessly off the crab's thick shell. As he retreated he looked around for a stick, for something he could use as a weapon, and that's when he tripped and fell.

The giant crab loomed over him, claws widening for the final snap. And that's when a shining spear smacked into the joint of the claw, preventing it from snapping shut. Another spear poked at the crab's mouth. A dozen more spears smacked hard against the shell. And as the terrified crab backed away from the assault, strong hands grabbed Tommy and pulled him to safety.

''Who be you? Speak thy name!"

Tommy looked up in amazement. He was surrounded by a band of warriors, all of them dressed in strange, patchy-looking clothing and wide leather arm bands, and all of them brandishing deadly spears. They had saved him from the crab, but now the spears were pointed at him.

''I say, who be you? Speak or die!"

The threatening words came from the mouth of a tough, broad-shouldered man with a short black beard and dark, intelligent eyes. The man carried the biggest of the spears and he was obviously in charge. He stepped forward and placed his spear on Tommy's chest, right over his heart.

''Thy name?"

''Thomas."

''Thy clan name?"

Clan name? What did the man mean by 'clan name'? Was clan name the same as last name?

''Cawler," he finally said. ''My name is Thomas Cawler."

The spear dropped away. The man suddenly grinned, flashing white teeth. ''Then you be one of us, for we are the Tinycawlers, of the mighty clan Cawler, and this be our island."

Tommy was so astonished he couldn't think of anything to say.

''I am Barge," the man said, placing his fist over his heart. ''I am chieftain of this clan, and these are my people."

Barge raised his spear and shook it. The other warriors did the same, and before Tommy quite knew what was happening, someone handed him clothing and dressed him roughly. Then he was being carried away, into an amazing jungle of giant, fern-like plants and trees as tall as skyscrapers. Into a place he had never imagined existed.

Into the world of the Tinycawlers, warrior clan of the mysterious island. Even though Tommy didn't know what was going to happen next, he did know one thing.

His life would never be the same again.

Part 6: In the land of the terrible teeth

They traveled for hours in the twilight of the giant ferns. After a while the clan warriors put Tommy down and he walked barefoot, hurrying to keep up. He didn't want to be left behind, not in a place so strange and scary. He had seen moths the size of birds, and pale pink earthworms as big as pythons.

The clan moved in silence, as if wary of attack, and whenever Tommy tried to ask a question, a firm hand clamped itself over his mouth. At last they came to a clearing in the giant forest and the warriors seemed to relax, as if confident of their safety.

Barge called a halt and words were freely spoken among the clan.

''We passed through the lair of the weasel," he explained. ''Weasels are much more dangerous than crabs. Very clever and canny is the weasel. It has terrible sharp teeth. Teeth like this," he added, holding up a necklace of razor-sharp teeth from his muscular neck.

''You killed it?" Tommy asked.

''When I was not much older than you," Barge said. ''It was kill or be killed."

Tommy looked at the fangs of the giant weasel and shuddered.

''Be thou hungry?" Barge asked, kindly. Without waiting for a reply he called for food. It came wrapped in a fern leaf and smelled strongly of fish and fire.

''Smoked mackerel," Barge explained.

Tommy didn't particularly like fish, except for fish and chips, and he'd never had smoked mackerel, whatever that was. But he was starving and the fish tasted firm and salty and was actually quite delicious.

While he ate, Barge explained what had happened.

''We saw you come upon the shore, a giant from the land of the giant people, and so we attacked. We pierced you with our poison spears."

So that was what had happened. Tommy thought he had been bitten by some small, furious creatures, but it was Barge and the Tinycawlers, defending their island.

''Poison?" he asked. ''What poison?"

''Our spear tips are dipped in the juice of the tiny apple, which is our sacred fruit. It grows only in one place, and only upon this island. Had you been a normal giant, you would have gotten sick, maybe even died. But because you are kin -- because you are of our blood -- the poison made you small, like us."

''But you said it was poison."

''To others it is poison, but not to us. Our clan has been upon this island for centuries. Legend says we came first as survivors of a shipwreck. The land is harsh and so we had to live small. Food was scarce because we hadn't learned how to hunt, hadn't learned the ways of this place. The survivors married among themselves, generation after generation, and their children became smaller and smaller, to fit the island. The juice of the tiny apple made them smaller still, until the clan became itself, and we were as you see us now. Tinycawlers, and masters of the island."

''But how can I be related?" Tommy asked, more puzzled than he'd ever been in his entire life. ''I've never been here before."

''Someone in your family has," Barge said, sounding very matter-of-fact about it. ''There are those in the giant world who carry our blood."

What Barge said made sense, in a strange, mysterious way, but Tommy thought it curious that he hadn't mentioned the model boat that Grampa had set sail in the moonlight, and which had surely crashed into the island.

''Boat?" said Barge, drawing in the dirt with the point of his spear. ''You mean a sailing dory like this?"

In the dirt, in precise lines, was the exact shape of Grampa's little boat.

''Haven't seen such a boat," Barge claimed, looking off into the twilight of the forest. ''Have you seen such a boat?" he asked his band of warriors, who all shook their heads and muttered ''No."

Tommy noticed that neither Barge nor any of the Tinycawlers would meet his eyes. They were lying about the boat for some reason, or maybe it was another mystery that he wasn't yet able to understand.

''What about Teeg?" Tommy wanted to know. ''Did you see a cat in the water with me? I know cats are supposed to hate water, but I'm almost sure Teeg followed me to the island."

Once again neither Barge nor any of the warriors would meet his eye. At the mention of ''cat" all they did was shrug, as if it was no concern of theirs, what happened to a cat who was foolish enough to swim out to Tinycawler Island.

Tommy realized there was much he didn't know, and that he would never understand this strange place all at once. He'd have to figure things out as he went along.

When they had finished eating, Barge announced that it was time to continue their journey.

''Where are we going?" Tommy asked.

Barge smiled. ''We're going to the place we'll be when we get there."

The warriors laughed and chuckled, as if they had heard Barge say such things before. The chieftain patted Tommy on the shoulder and said, ''We're taking you to meet the others. The rest of thy clan. Now we must make our way in silence. There are creatures in this forest who would make a meal of us."

They left the clearing and followed a path through the giant ferns. Tommy was amazed at how quietly the Tinycawlers were able to move through the dense foliage. His own feet were clumsy and he kept tripping over thick vines and roots. He was sure that any minute a giant screaming weasel was going to explode from the jungle and bite him in half. But at the same time he somehow felt safe, surrounded and protected by Barge and his brave warriors.

Follow the path, Tommy's mother often said, sometimes all you can do is follow the path and see where it takes you.

Here in this strange place, in a world he had never known existed, Tommy understood the truth of her words.

It was late in the day and the sun was low in the sky when Tommy and the Tinycawlers came to the shore on the opposite side of the island. When they stepped out of the fern jungle, they found a little cove almost hidden in the shadows of the giant trees. The shoreline was quite steep, and a scent of a fire drifted upon the air. Tommy looked around, expecting to see another group of people, but the place seemed to be deserted.

''Is this where you live?" Tommy asked. ''Where are the houses? Where are the people?"

''Why, where all good and safe houses must be located," said Barge. ''Underwater."

And without another word, he and all the Tinycawler warriors stepped into the water and vanished beneath the surface, leaving scarcely a bubble behind.

Rodman Philbrick's ''The Tinycawlers," a story for young readers, is being published in The Boston Globe on eight Tuesdays ending May 30. Teachers wishing to receive copies of the newspaper on those days, as well as curriculum materials developed for the story, should contact the Globe's Newspaper in Education office at 617-929-2639.