The sixth book in the Mighty Quinns series, 2003

Wind-driven rain lashed at the windows of the house on Kilgore Street. The storm had rolled off the North Atlantic a day ago, a nor'easter with the force of a tropical hurricane and the chill of a midwinter blizzard. Brian Quinn stared out at the flooded street from the second-story bedroom window, his forehead pressed against the glass.

He knew the Mighty Quinn was a seaworthy boat and that it had weathered storms much worse than this, but Brian still couldn't banish the worry from his head. Seamus Quinn was a great captain and he didn't need the Coast Guard to tell him the forecast-he felt it, he smelled it in the air and saw it in the clouds. But the Mighty Quinn was late coming in, already six days past the longest trip that Brian's father had ever made. And Brian could see the worry in Conor's eyes and the grim set of Dylan's mouth. They were worried, too.

The fishing had been bad all summer and the Mighty Quinn had been forced farther and farther out to find swordfish. But now, the season was winding down and the weather becoming more unpredictable. After the last trip, Conor had tried to convince their father to head south as so many other fishermen did during the fall and winter.

Though it would mean the six Quinn boys would be on their own for five or six months, Conor had assuredSeamus that he could handle things at home as long as the money kept coming in. He had run the household for seven years now, ever since their mother had walked out. Conor cooked and cleaned, he helped with homework and meted out discipline. And he tried his hardest to keep their situation from teachers and neighbors and anyone who might consider Seamus a neglectful father. A heavy load for a fourteen-year-old.