Fantasea hit reverse as did Conchy Lady. It was a difficult maneuver for Skeeter as his reverse gear had severe limitations. Fantasea was set up for big game fishing and could back down at ten knots. Max knew this and it caused him to pick up the handset again.
“Dave, don’t back up any faster than Skeet. He’s slow in reverse. You have to stay even with him. Ten-four?”
“Ten-four,” came Dave’s reply.
A moment later the pod was stopped. There was no panic, they just stopped swimming and stayed in place. Max was watching from twenty yards behind the net. He keyed the microphone, “OK guys. Gently forward. Begin moving the net forward and come in a little to create the bowl. Easy guys.”
Dave and Skeet placed their boats into forward gear at idle speed. The whales turned directly around and began swimming in the direction from which they had come. They stayed together and swam at the same pace they were swimming at before they had stopped. The maneuver was successful. The entire pod was together within the net. No one was injured and there were no strays. Max stopped holding his breath and guided Bimini Twist around Conchy Lady and took up a position 200 yards ahead of the pod.
“What’s your speed, Dave?” he radioed.
The reply came back, “By the GPS it’s three knots. Through the water it’s five. We’re moving against a two knot current.”
“OK, keep it there unless you see some reason to slow down. I think the pod can continue at that speed without any stress. What’s the tide situation?”
Fantasea had all the latest in fishing electronics. Dave could navigate through any pass in the eastern United States, Bahamas or Caribbean without looking out the window. It had color chart plotters, global positioning satellite, four redundant radios, radar, auto pilot and several other on board computer systems. Tidal information was available at the touch of a button. Dave keyed in a few commands and up popped the information. He called back to Max, “Good news, Buddy. The tide will continue to come in for two more hours. We’ve got at least four hours of deep water.”
“That’s good,” said Max. “We’ve got eight miles to navigate. Pending a disaster and providing the pod continues to cooperate, we should be done in three hours. Skeet, how’s your fuel? Everything OK?”
“I’m good. Fuel is full but your son says he’s hungry and I don’t have anything onboard.”
“I’ll be right there,” Max swung his boat in a wide arc around the pod and idled back to where Conchy Lady was towing the net. From the cooler that Lisa had prepared, he took half the sandwiches and a six pack of cokes. He pulled along side and maintained the same speed as Skeeter. P.J. handed the provisions across to Gaffer. Max called over, “Share this with Skeet. Let me know if there is anything else you need.” Then he peeled off and resumed his position in front of the flotilla.
Forty minutes passed. The pod was behaving and they were making progress toward the north. Max’s steady concentration was broken when Dave’s voice came across the radio. “Max, heads up. You told me to let you know when we’re approaching Fish Cays. I can see you and the Cays on my radar. You’re a quarter mile ahead of me and the Cays are about a half mile ahead of you. I think it’s time to adjust the course.”
“Thanks, Dave. I’ll get right back to you. Everybody, radio check!”
Max’s radio came alive. Tight Lines, Conchy Lady, Coco Loco, Starling all loud and clear. He keyed the handset again. “I want us to pass to the south of Fish Cays. That will give us the best angle on the shoal area. Dave, Skeet, change your heading gently, slowly. Go to 270 degrees. It’s only a fifteen degree turn so take your time. Easy, real easy. The whales are behaving and I don’t want to upset them. Kate, Jason, Mark, move away from the flanks to behind the net. The distance between Water Cay and Fish Cays is not that wide and we don’t want any mishaps. Everybody get it?”
“Got it,” replied Katie.
“I’m good,” came Jason’s reply.
“No problemo,” said Mark.
“OK, guys. For the next thirty minutes or so we’ll be negotiating the passage. Be careful. Keep your eyes open. Be prepared to stop if I tell you.”
“No problemo,” Mark said again. “How much longer do you think?”
“After the pass, another two hours. How’s your gas?”
“I’m loaded,” said Mark. “At this speed I’m good for a couple of days.”
Ten minutes later Max gave a general radio advice. “I’m in the pass. It’s a good mile wide. Plenty of room for us. Skeet, Dave, you guys OK?”
Dave replied, “We have to come pretty close to the sides of the pass. Do we have enough water? Are there any rocks?”
Max came back, “This is all good water. You have the radar. Keep a quarter mile offshore and you’ll be good. You might have to take in some net to close the space. Skeet you can do that with your winch.”
“I’m on it,” replied Skeet. Then off the radio he said to Gaffer, “I have work to do on the deck. Stand here and hold this heading. Call me if anything comes up. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
Gaffer keyed the mike, “Dad, I’m driving. Skeet is bringing in net. Everything’s cool.”
Max laughed and radioed back, “Cool.”
Suddenly Max’s radio came alive with Dave’s panicked voice. “Stop, we’ve got to stop. The net is dragging, or something is keeping it from moving smoothly. Somebody has to go check to see what happened. It may be stuck on the bottom. Something is definitely not right.”
Max called to Tight Lines, “Mark, move up on the net and see what you can see. I’m coming back there. I’ll be with you as fast as I can get there.”
By the time they caught up with Tight Lines, Mark was ready to report. “It looks like there is a whale caught in the net. I can’t see all that well but there appears to be a large black mass inside the net, not moving.”
P.J. ran forward and began yanking scuba gear out of the forward storage areas. He had a regulator and buoyancy compensator fixed to a tank in a minute flat and was clipping on his weight belt and fins.
Skeet came on the radio. “What is it?”
Max replied, “Mark thinks one of the whales is stuck in the net. P.J. is going down to check it out.”
Skeet screamed back, “No, don’t let him do that alone. Mark, come get me. I’ll be suited up before you can get here. Dave, keep the net moving forward little by little. Keep up with the pod or they’ll swim out of the net and we’ll never see them again.” Then to Gaffer he said, “Son, you keep driving for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I check this out.”
“Go do what you have to. I can handle things here until you get back.”
Before Tight Lines could reach him, Skeeter was suited up and ready to dive. He tossed his mask and fins across and jumped in along side Mark. “Take off!” he said.
Mark peeled off and was behind the midpoint of the net within two minutes. P.J.’s buoyancy compensator was inflated and he was floating at the surface waiting for Skeet above the bulge in the net. He called up, “Don’t come in here without a knife. We have some cutting to do.” Mark handed over a bait knife.
Skeet joined P.J. in the water and, without hesitating, both divers headed to the bottom. In only fifteen feet of water they reached the baby whale in less than ten seconds. They could see that the animal had been caught by the net from behind and, in its panic to get free, had wiggled and bucked until it was hopelessly entwined in the netting. It was being dragged by the advancing net and appeared to be drowning. P.J. and Skeet could waste no time. Careful not to cut the skin of the whale, they began cutting loose the netting all around the animal’s body. The netting was tightly woven meaning they would have to cut through hundreds of small lengths of line before the baby whale would be free again.
There was no time to waste. P.J. started at one end and Skeet the other. Slicing as quickly and carefully as they could above the whales body. It was not moving and Skeet was near panic worrying that this magnificent animal might die in his net. With rene
wed enthusiasm he sliced and slashed. P.J. was more methodical, but he too was making progress quickly.
Dave’s voice came across Max’s radio. “I have an alert for you, Max. One of the whales has escaped from the net. It’s headed your way in a big hurry. If it’s a mother whale and your son is in the water, I’d strongly urge you to get him out of there.”
While Max scrambled for a dive mask so he could make a quick bounce dive to warn the divers, P.J. and Skeet were cutting away the last of the netting from the trapped whale. P.J. got his arms around the soft, slippery whale and eased it through the hole in the net. Max appeared from nowhere waving his arms and pointing up in the divers’ signal to surface. P.J. showed him what he was doing with the baby whale but Max continued his signaling. The baby shuttered and began flapping its tail. Skeet’s heart soared as he saw that the whale had life. He felt even better when it quickly darted away.
There was a much more pressing problem at hand. The mother of the frightened calf was now in the area and ready to attack the divers to protect her offspring. She made a quick pass by her baby and through the three divers. Max was first to bolt to the surface as he was out of air. He grabbed a quick breath and headed back to see how he might use his own parental instinct to protect his son. It was not necessary. Just as he headed down, P.J. broke through the surface and began swimming for the safety of Bimini Twist. Skeet was only a couple of feet behind him. By now the calf and the divers were fifty feet apart and the mother pilot whale turned to attend to her baby. Max, P.J. and Skeet all climbed aboard the boat. They were breathing hard as they scrambled to safety, but they were out of the water and they knew they were out of danger.
While P.J. and Skeeter began shedding their scuba equipment Max got on the radio. “Dave, Gaffer, keep the net moving ahead. Maintain five knots. Try to keep the pod together as much as possible. Anybody see how many got out of the net.”
Dave replied, “I think they’re all still together except that one I saw rushing by. What’s going on with you?”
“There was a small one caught in the net. P.J. and Skeet cut it loose. I think that one you saw was the mother. She came in to protect her pup.”
“Is everybody OK?” asked Dave.
“Yeah, the baby swam away with its mother, so it must be OK. It might have been frightened but I don’t think it was hurt. P.J. and Skeet are fine.”
Across the air wave came Kate’s voice, “Bravo, P.J. and Skeet. Nice going.”
“Here, here,” came Jason’s voice.
“Way to go,” crackled Gaffer.
Max was on a course to return to Conchy Lady. He turned to Skeet who was in stunned silence. “Skeet, you don’t look so good. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“You might say that,” said Skeet.
“What’s the matter? I have a first aid kit. What do you need?”
“What I need, no first aid kit could possibly have,” he replied.
“You need an ice pack or something?” asked P.J.
“No, it’s not that either. I think I need a new line of work. That calf was the first animal I have ever seen trapped in one of my nets. It would have been a cruel way to die. It could so easily have drowned and who’s to say it isn’t injured? That scene rocked me to my core.”
“I think the calf will be OK,” said Max. “It’s with its mother.”
“I could buy into that and have that be the end of it. But I’m not naive. I’ve been netting for a long time. I’ve seen everything. I’ve trapped plenty of the fish I was looking for. But I’d be lying if I said I only trapped just that. How many sharks do you think I’ve killed? And for what? Porpoises, turtles, marlin, sails. I’ve caught them all. The net is merciless and I don’t kid myself about how these animals die. They drown. Slowly. That’s not the first whale I’ve caught either.” Skeet was silent for a while and Max did not know what to say. P.J. just looked at him with his mouth agape. The fellow was going through an epiphany. A full grown adult publicly suffering and contemplating his guilt.
When Max pulled along side Conchy Lady, Skeeter quietly crossed over. P.J. handed him his dive gear and went back to cleaning up the mess he had made on the deck with his own equipment.
A half hour later and the flotilla had safely negotiated the pass. Max radioed to everyone. “We’re through. Our next obstacle is the shoal area. For all you deep draft guys you’ll have to be very careful. Everyone turn to two sixty five. Skeet you can let out a little net if you like.”
“Doing it,” came the reply.
Twenty five minutes of radio silence was broken with a panicked call from Tight Lines. “Max, this is Mark. I have a big problem.”
Max’s voice came back immediately, “What’s the matter?”
I got outside the group and touched bottom on the shoal area. I must have hit a rock or something else very hard. I heard a big bang and now my boat is shaking like crazy.”
“Sounds like you bent a prop. Do you have a spare?”
“No.”
“Did you hit the bottom of the boat or just the outdrive? Are you taking on water?”
“I think it’s just the prop. I can’t move. It’s shaking like mad.”
Max called back. “OK, here’s what you do. First thing, drop your anchor. Get the boat settled and secure because we’re leaving it here until we come back. Jason, can you hear this?”
“Loud and clear,” came the reply.
“Jason, can you see Mark?”
Jason came back, “That’s affirmative. He’s about 500 yards from me. I’m on my way.”
Max called back, “Jason, be careful. Go very slow. You have the shallowest draft, but whatever he hit is still there. Be very careful. Let me know when you have him and are back in your position. Do you understand?”
“Ten-four,” came the reply. Then Jason changed course to go pick up his stranded friend. Within ten minutes he was back on the radio to tell Max he was at his station again.
Thirty minutes later Max called to Skeeter, “Conchy Lady, come in.”
“What is it, Max?”
“How close is the Whale Cay Passage?”
“That’s Whale Cay on your ten o’clock. Do you see it?”
Max scanned the horizon. “I see several islands and lots of space between them,” he said. “How can you tell which one it is?”
“Because I know where to look,” came the reply. “I’ll tell you what, Max. Trade places with me. I’ll lead us out of here in your boat, you drive this one. We’ll be in the open within an hour. This is no time to run aground or mess up. Come on over.”
“I’m on my way.” And soon Bimini Twist was pulling along side Conchy Lady for the change of drivers. Gaffer took the wheel while Max checked out the equipment on the decks. On Bimini Twist, P.J. showed Skeeter the controls and instruments which were much different from those on board Conchy Lady. Then Skeeter accelerated to take up his position in front of the pod. Very soon they would be preparing to clear the passage.
Kate’s voice broke the radio silence. “Here’s an update on the mother and her pup. They’re together swimming behind the net, staying with the rest of their family. It looks like if we pull this off we will have suffered no casualties.”
A relieved Skeet immediately replied, “That’s excellent news. In an hour we’ll know.”
Skeeter keyed the radio again. “Dave, Max pay close attention. Keep your eye on what I do. Follow me exactly. The channel here is only 300 yards wide and you both have to squeeze through it. It looks to me like you’re each going to have to come in 200 yards. That means you’re going to reduce the width of the net by about half. I recommend you crank in some of that net to flatten it out a little. You get what I mean, Max.”
“I got it. I don’t know how to judge it. How long should the winch stay on?”
“Four hundred yards,” replied Skeeter, “just turn it on and leave it on. You need to stay there and watch that it doesn’t get caught in the gears or motor. Let your son drive the boat. I’
m coming back there and I’ll pilot him through the pass. Fantasea, are you there?”
“I’m here. Tell me what you want me to do” replied Dave.
“Stay 200 yards off our port side. That’ll give you fifty yards to clear the shoal. Gaffer, are you listening?”
“Just tell me where you want me,” replied Gaffer.
“I’m coming back to get you. We’ll be no more than ten yards off the shoal. You stay right in my wake and follow me out. Does everybody understand this?”
“Fantasea, ten-four.”
“This is the Gaffer. Show me the way.”
Skeeter turned Bimini Twist in a wide arc and positioned it fifty feet in front of Conchy Lady. He slowed down to two knots, going in and out of gear to keep the speed very slow.
“Gaffer. How’s your father doing with the winch and net?”
“He’s fine,” replied Gaffer. “I can see that the bow is leaving the net. Maybe he should slow it down.”
“OK, tell him to stop the winch. We’ll be through this pass in twenty minutes and there’s nothing but open sea ahead. Follow me.”
“Ten-four,” came Gaffer’s reply.
As the flotilla, with its precious cargo of pilot whales, made its way past Loggerhead Channel, Skeeter checked the depth finder and noted that the bottom was now thirty five feet away and falling off rapidly. He spoke into the radio microphone, “That’s it. This is as far as we go. We’re on the edge of the open ocean and the whales will be safe. Gaffer and Dave, stop your forward motion and let the pod swim free. Dave, release the net so Max can wind it up. Max, hit the switch and reel it in. The rest of you boats stay back and I’ll guide you in as soon as Fantasea and Conchy Lady are ready.”
Dave untied the net from his cleat and tossed it overboard. With no resistance the winch pulled the net in very rapidly. Max stayed close to guide the net onto its spool. Gaffer turned in a wide arc to starboard to avoid running over the net which was sprawled out over the water on his port side. Winding madly and dragging the net behind, Gaffer took his place behind Bimini Twist as Fantasea pulled up the rear. Within ten minutes the flotilla was in the lee of Spoil Bank Cay. Skeeter stopped and waited for Max and Dave and the rest of the group to pull along side.
Abaco Gold Page 3
