Ocean SOS

by J. Burchett

  Wild Rescue: Ocean SOS

  published in 2012 by

  Hardie Grant Egmont

  Ground Floor, Building 1, 658 Church Street

  Richmond, Victoria 3121, Australia

  www.hardiegrantegmont.com.au

  First published by Stripes Publishing

  1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road

  London SW6 6AW

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored

  in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic,

  mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written

  permission of the publishers and copyright holders.

  A CiP record for this title is available from the

  National Library of Australia.

  eISBN: 9781742737782

  Text copyright © 2009 Jan Burchett and Sara Vogler

  Illustrations copyright © 2009 Dianne Le Feyer of Cartoon Saloon

  Cover illustration and design © 2012 Hardie Grant Egmont

  Cover illustration by Aki Fukuoka

  Cover design by Stephanie Spartels

  FOR MICHAEL AND PETER CULLUM, WITH GRATEFUL THANKS

  FOR ALL YOUR EXPERT HELP. LOVE FROM JAN AND SARA.

  AND FOR ALL THE CHARITIES THAT ARE WORKING

  ON BEHALF OF DOLPHINS EVERYWHERE.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Ready, steady, dive!” yelled Zoe.

  She plunged into the leisure centre pool just ahead of her twin brother, Ben. They sped through the water, until they reached the jacuzzi, their finishing line. Zoe slapped her hand on the wall.

  “I won!” she declared.

  “Only just,” said Ben.

  “What shall we do till the wave machine comes on?” asked Zoe, pushing her brown hair out of her eyes.

  “More challenges,” said Ben. “Bet I can sit on the bottom and hold my breath longer than you.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Zoe. “You always win that one.”

  But Ben had already sucked in a huge mouthful of air and ducked down under the surface. Zoe joined him, and they sat on the floor of the pool. Zoe kept her back to her brother. She knew he’d do everything he could to make her laugh.

  All of a sudden, someone tapped Ben on the shoulder. He whipped round to see a young woman in dark goggles peering straight at him. She gave him a thumbs up.

  Ben let out all his air in a stream of bubbles and burst to the surface.

  Zoe was just behind him. “I won again!”

  she exclaimed.

  “I had to come up,” Ben panted. “Erika’s here.”

  Zoe looked eagerly up and down the pool. “I can’t see her. You’re just making up an excuse for losing.”

  “Over here!” came a voice with a slight German accent. Erika was peeping out from behind a fountain in the corner and waving a glass eyeball at them.

  They swam across to her.

  “Erika!” cried Ben. “So we’ve got a new mission!”

  Zoe and Ben Woodward were like every other eleven-year-old, except for one important difference. They were operatives for Wild, a secret organisation dedicated to saving animals all over the world. It had been set up by their godfather, Dr Stephen Fisher. Whenever they were needed he sent his second-in-command, Erika Bohn, to fetch them. But she was never allowed to tell them the details of their mission. Instead, he always sent them a glass eyeball – a clue to which animal they’d be trying to rescue.

  “Good to see you both,” said Erika. She peeled off her goggles and handed them the eyeball. It was a similar size to a human’s and had an inky black pupil.

  Zoe turned it over in her hand. “I wonder which animal this is from.”

  “You can think about that in the helicopter,” said Erika. “Come on, let’s get dressed and head off to Wild Island.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were flying out over the North Sea, their noses full of the familiar smell of chicken manure from the fuel – like everything at Wild, the helicopter was environmentally friendly.

  Zoe took the chance to phone their grandmother while Ben examined the eyeball. The children’s parents were vets who were currently working abroad and Gran had come to look after them while their parents were away. Mr and Mrs Woodward had no idea about their children’s work for Wild and only Gran was in on their secret.

  “That Stephen,” came her cheerful voice through the speaker. “Where’s he sending you now?”

  “We don’t know yet,” said Zoe. “He’s given us a clue, though.”

  “He was always one for a puzzle!” Gran laughed. “Look after yourselves. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Ben held up the eyeball. Suddenly, the pupil caught the light and glowed.

  “It’s got eyeshine,” said Ben. “You know, like a cat or a dog when you catch them in a torch beam. It helps them to see in the dark.”

  Zoe took a look. “What other animals have that?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking,” said Ben. “Quite a few mammals – and fish.”

  “Don’t forget to see what your uncle has to say,” said Erika, pointing towards a hollow in the console.

  Ben put the eyeball into it. At once, a hologram of their godfather appeared.

  “Hello, godchildren,” he said. “Have you worked out what it is yet? You might need a clue. It’s –”

  The image began to flicker. Uncle Stephen’s faint voice could just be heard. “Something wrong with the hologram recorder. Wish I hadn’t spilt my tea on it…”

  The hologram disappeared.

  Zoe laughed. “Uncle Stephen may be brilliant, but he’s very clumsy. We’ll just have to wait.”

  “Wild Island coming up,” called Erika.

  She brought the helicopter down to land. As soon as they’d disembarked, she pressed a button on a hand-held remote, activating the mechanism that brought up the fake shed to hide the helicopter. They made their way across to what looked like an outdoor toilet, but in fact hid a supersonic lift.

  The children felt their stomachs lurch as they zoomed down into the headquarters of Wild. The lift doors opened, and they found themselves face to face with their godfather. He was wearing a lab coat over bright shorts and a bobble hat rammed down over his spiky red hair.

  “Greetings, godchildren!” he cried. “Now come with me. There’s no time to lose.”

  They hurried along the corridor and took turns placing their fingertips on a small pad next to a door marked “Control Room”. As soon as their prints had been identified, the door slid open to reveal the large bright room that was the technological centre of Wild. Consoles and lights flashed. Operatives were working at keyboards, but they all paused to give Ben and Zoe a cheery wave. Uncle Stephen led the children over to his desk.

  “Sorry about the hologram,” he said. “What did you make of the eye?”

  Ben told them what they had deduced so far.

  “Good, good,” murmured their godfather. “Well then?”

  “It’s very hard,” said Erika. “Come on, give them their clue.”

  Uncle Stephen stroked his chin. “Although this animal is a mammal, it lives in the sea.”

  “There are quite a few sea mammals,” said Ben.

  “But this one’s particularly intelligent,” their godfather told them.

  “Got it,” c
ried Zoe immediately. “We’re rescuing a dolphin!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Well done,” said Uncle Stephen. “I knew my clever godchildren would get the answer!”

  Zoe tugged at his sleeve. “Tell us the details!” she said impatiently.

  “I want you to look at this,” said Uncle Stephen, pointing to a huge wall monitor displaying a website for a marine park. The park looked bright and welcoming, with the slogan – “Mundo Marino, the jewel of the Caribbean Coast”.

  “We have an operative who keeps track of what goes on in water parks and zoos all over the world,” Uncle Stephen explained. “She picked up reports of problems at this place in Mexico.”

  “Is that where the dolphin is?” said Zoe. “I hate seeing them in captivity, but we can’t rush in and kidnap one.”

  “That’s not the problem,” said her godfather. “The park doesn’t look like that now. It’s been closed down.”

  “It used to be run by an old man who loved all forms of marine life,” explained Erika. “I don’t approve of dolphins being kept in captivity either, but Señor Delgado was doing a good job.”

  Uncle Stephen took up the story. “He died six months ago and his son took it over. He didn’t spend enough money on the park and if any member of staff complained, he sacked them. By the time the authorities found out and closed it down many animals were in a terrible state.”

  “That’s disgusting!” exclaimed Ben.

  “And the tale gets worse,” Uncle Stephen continued. “Of the four bottlenose dolphins there, only one – a four-year-old male called Fingal – was left alive. He’s said to have a scar running from his right eye to just below his mouth, so he must have been mistreated.”

  “How awful!” cried Zoe. “So it’s poor Fingal we’ve got to rescue. But if the park’s been closed, where is he now?”

  “We don’t know,” answered Erika. “When the owner knew the authorities were on to him he dumped all the animals in the ocean, even though Fingal was born in captivity. He’s in prison now, thank goodness.”

  Uncle Stephen tapped a key and a map of the Caribbean Sea appeared on the screen. He indicated a point on the south-east coast of Mexico. “San Miguel – where Fingal was dumped four days ago.”

  “So he could be anywhere in the Caribbean by now,” said Ben.

  “We don’t think he’s gone far, and that’s part of the problem,” said Uncle Stephen. “We’ve been monitoring local radio reports and it seems that a young dolphin has been bothering fishermen in San Miguel. We think this must be Fingal. He seems to be after their catch.”

  “Fingal was born in the park so he would naturally go to humans for his food, rather than hunting for himself,” added Erika.

  “The fishermen won’t like that,” said Zoe. “You’re right,” said Uncle Stephen. “And that’s why your mission is so urgent. Fingal will either get hurt or caught in a net if he’s not rescued soon. And there’s always the danger of a shark attacking a young dolphin living without the protection of a pod. Fingal needs rehabilitation before he’s fit to live in the wild.”

  “Who does that sort of rehabilitation?” asked Ben.

  “There’s the Agua Clara Dolphin Sanctuary about fifty kilometres from there – near Cancun,” said Uncle Stephen, “but they haven’t got the time or resources to travel all that way to search for a dolphin in trouble. However, I can think of one way they would find him very quickly. If he was tracked down and enticed to stay somewhere by two very clever young Wild operatives until the centre could come and get him…”

  “Well, Ben.” Zoe winked at her twin brother. “I wonder who our godfather has in mind to do the tracking?”

  “I suppose we could do it, Zoe,” replied Ben, with a cheeky grin. “We’re not very busy and it is the summer holidays…”

  Uncle Stephen beamed at them. “I knew my wonderful godchildren would be up for it.”

  “When do we head off?” asked Zoe eagerly.

  “We’ll be leaving for San Miguel as soon as you’ve got all your kit,” said Erika. “Fingal needs our help as soon as possible. I’ll pretend to be your aunt who’s kind enough to take you for a holiday while I work. I’m going to pose as an environmentalist.”

  “You are an environmentalist!” Uncle Stephen laughed. “And your reason for being in a Mexican fishing village is genuine.” He turned to Ben and Zoe. “I’ve been looking into the problem of dolphins being caught in fishing nets for some time. There are nets that emit the call of a much larger marine mammal so that dolphins are warned to stay well away. But these can be too expensive for poor fishing communities like those around the San Miguel area. I’ve developed my own version that is foolproof and much cheaper.”

  “I’m going to offer the fishermen a free trial,” said Erika. “And while I’m doing that, you can search for Fingal.”

  “It’ll be awesome out on the sea,” said Ben. “Will we get to do some snorkelling?”

  Uncle Stephen rubbed his hands together. “You certainly will – and you can use my latest invention.”

  He opened a drawer and rummaged about in the mess. Finally, he pulled out two snorkels and some flippers. He handed them to Ben and Zoe.

  “I’ve got news for you, Uncle Stephen,” said Zoe. “Snorkels have already been invented.”

  “These may look like any other snorkel,” said their godfather. “But they’re not. They’re GILS – Great Integrated Life Support. Unlike a snorkel, this will give you ten minutes of oxygen.” Uncle Stephen pointed to Zoe’s device. “See the little capsule here in the mouthpiece? This is a special compressed air tank. All you have to do is go back up to the surface and it refills automatically. I’ve set it to give you a strong taste of peppermint when the air is about to run out. And if you look at the mask, you’ll see it’s designed to give enhanced underwater visibility.”

  “And let’s guess, these are no ordinary flippers either,” said Ben.

  “Indeed.” Uncle Stephen beamed. “They’re extra streamlined for increased speed.”

  “Cool!” said Ben, slipping on the flippers and waddling round the room. “They feel really light – and strong.”

  “What sort of boat will we be going out in?” asked Zoe.

  “A speedboat?” said Ben hopefully.

  “Don’t be daft.” Zoe laughed. “The engine would frighten Fingal off.”

  “Zoe’s right,” said Erika. “I’ll be organising a sailing dinghy for you.”

  “Perfect!” Zoe punched the air.

  Ben grinned. “You would say that.”

  “I bet you wish you’d done those sailing courses with me last summer,” said Zoe.

  Erika delved into Uncle Stephen’s drawer and, after removing two apple cores and an old milk carton, produced what looked like two hand-held game consoles. She held them out to the children. “Of course you can’t go without your BUGs.”

  Ben and Zoe’s BUGs – Brilliant Undercover Gizmos – were technological wonders. They had inbuilt communicators, satellite tracking, translators and countless other useful functions. They even had one or two games.

  “Wait a minute,” said Ben. “Are these still going to work in the sea?”

  “They are waterproof,” said Uncle Stephen. “I’ve tested them in the bath.” His eyes twinkled. “In fact, you’d better call them Brilliant Underwater Gizmos for this mission!”

  Ben and Zoe groaned.

  “I’ve added a limpet,” he went on. “It’s a wireless extension of your BUGs.”

  Zoe turned her gizmo over in her hand. “Is it this?” she said, peeling off a circular coin-sized piece of rubber with a metal device embedded in it.

  “That’s right,” said Uncle Stephen. “It’s designed to stick to the side of your boat by giving off a slimy substance just like a limpet does. It transmits and identifies calls underwater. All the info will be displayed on your BUG screens, in the usual way.”

  “Great,” said Zoe.

  “You’ll also have a supply of tre
ats to lure Fingal to you,” Erika told them.

  “I knocked up the recipe myself,” Uncle Stephen added. “They’re only tasty to dolphins.”

  “Good,” said Zoe. “So we won’t be chased by shoals of tuna!”

  “Time for you to be off then,” said Uncle Stephen. “The Wild Jet is fuelled and ready to go, and Fingal’s depending on you.”

  “I think there’s something you’ve forgotten to tell them, Dr Fisher,” said Erika.

  “Surely not,” Uncle Stephen replied, looking puzzled.

  “The weather?”

  “Oh yes!” exclaimed their godfather. “Well done, Erika. It’s hurricane season in the Caribbean.”

  “Thanks for the warning!” exclaimed Ben.

  Uncle Stephen frowned. “I hope that hasn’t put you off.”

  “No way!” cried Zoe. “Fingal, here we come!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Zoe pulled on her T-shirt and shorts over her wetsuit, and looked out of the guest house window at the clear blue sky.

  “It’s a lovely day,” she said. “Light breeze. Good sailing weather. Perfect for our mission.”

  The children and Erika had arrived at the Casa Blanca guest house in San Miguel late last night. It had been dark when they’d taken the taxi from the airfield where Erika had left the Wild plane. The proprietor, Señor Rodriguez, had greeted them in excellent English and made them welcome with hot drinks and a big plate of biscuits. Breakfast that morning had been just as delicious.

  “Come on, Zoe,” said Ben impatiently. “Let’s go.”

  “Don’t be so hasty.” Zoe laughed. “We must do a final check of our equipment first.”

  She sat on her bed and lifted her backpack up beside her.

  “First-aid kit, binoculars, GILs…” she said.

  “…flippers, diving belt with knife, treats for Fingal,” muttered Ben, as he carefully repacked each one. “How’s your Spanish?”

  “I can say please and thank you,” said Zoe.

  “How about – do you know where the missing dolphin is because we’ve come to rescue him and get him to a rehabilitation centre?” Ben said teasingly.

  “I’ll leave that to you!” Zoe came back quickly.