by J. Burchett
“There’s an inlet a few miles away,” said Ben, studying the satellite map on his BUG screen. “It’s north-east of here. It seems remote – no houses or anything, but there’s a small road leading down to it so the people from the Agua Clara Dolphin Sanctuary will be able to get a truck down there.”
“Sounds ideal,” said Zoe, moving back to her seat and settling herself with the tiller and sail ropes. “I’ll sail and you keep an eye on Fingal. The odd treat should keep him with us.”
Fingal swam round the boat, leaping among the waves.
Zoe smiled. “He’s like a dog that knows it’s going for a walk,” she said.
Ben zoomed in on his map to get a closeup of the area. “Don’t go too near the land,” he warned. “The BUG’s showing that the water soon gets shallow with hidden rocks. We don’t want to run aground.”
“No problem,” said Zoe, turning the dinghy back out to sea and heading northeast.
Fingal swam alongside the boat as it gained speed. Now and again, he would soar high in the air, twisting and turning before diving into the waves. Ben rewarded him each time with a whistle.
A sudden strong gust of wind caught Zoe in the face, taking her breath away. The boat lurched on the choppy swell.
“What’s up with Fingal?” said Ben. “He’s hanging back. Perhaps he’s scared to stray into unknown waters.”
The young dolphin had stopped metres behind the dinghy and was calling anxiously to them. Ben threw a dolphin treat into the water. Fingal watched as it fell, but didn’t move forward to eat it. He edged backwards in the water, as if he was going to swim away at any minute.
“Come on, Fingal,” said Zoe.
“I’ll try his pinger,” said Ben, pressing the buttons on his BUG.
He watched the sleek, rounded back of the little dolphin, as he swam slowly up and down just under the surface.
“We can’t let him go back to the bay,” he said. “We’ve got no way of keeping him out of the way of the fishing boats there.”
Ben trailed a treat in the water. “He’s nosing at my hand.”
“Good boy, Fingal,” called Zoe.
There was a blast of wind across the bow. The sails flapped alarmingly and the boat lurched to one side. Zoe acted quickly to bring the dinghy round until the sails filled again and the boat steadied itself.
“Look ahead, Ben,” she said anxiously. “I hope that’s not the hurricane approaching. We know it was forecast to miss San Miguel, but we don’t know how close it was going to come to the shore.”
The two children peered at the horizon. Swelling waves were rolling in towards the shore, topped with white spitting flecks. Ominous clouds had appeared in the far distance.
“I reckon we’re going to be caught if we stay here,” said Ben grimly. “We’ve got to get Fingal to that inlet right now.”
He turned to throw another treat into the water. But all he could see was the young dolphin speeding away from them.
“Fingal must have sensed the danger,” he said. “If he’s running away from the hurricane, then so should we.”
CHAPTER NINE
Ben checked his BUG for Fingal’s tracking signal. It showed an orange pulsing light moving swiftly through the water away from their dinghy, heading back the way they’d come.
“He’s making for the bay,” he said, worried. “And that could be dangerous. Any fishing boats will be making for San Miguel now, if the hurricane’s getting closer.”
Zoe pushed the tiller away and set a new course back towards the fishing village.
Ben checked his BUG again. “Fingal’s signal shows he’s swimming out to sea now, but at least he’s heading south, away from the storm – and San Miguel.”
Zoe brought the dinghy round and set a course to follow the little dolphin.
She glanced over at Ben’s BUG. “I hope we can catch up with him. Dolphins can swim fast when they want to.”
The clouds had spread across the sky now. As they sailed further from the shore the children could feel the wind growing stronger, making the dinghy lurch and dip violently.
Ben checked the BUG screen. “We’re not getting any closer,” he said.
“I’m trying to get us moving faster,” said Zoe. “Hang on tight. Even though we’re sailing away from the hurricane this wind’s still getting fierce. I’m having a real fight to hold the tiller steady.”
Ben called up the satellite forecast. “Bad news, I’m afraid,” he said. “We’re sailing right into the edge of the storm. It’s going to be a bit wild here for a while.”
Zoe yelped in surprise as a sudden gust nearly tore the mainsail sheet from her grasp. She could feel the first lashings of rain on her face.
“We’ll have to get to shore,” Ben shouted over the roaring wind.
“Too risky,” Zoe shouted back. “We don’t know if there are hidden rocks.”
“You’re the boss,” answered Ben. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take the jib,” she yelled. “Pull that sheet until the sail stops flapping. I’ll deal with the rest.”
Pulling on the jib sheet with one hand, Ben adjusted his BUG to set the pinger going at full volume. The sky was even darker now and the rain was hammering down.
“I’m keeping Fingal’s signal going,” he shouted over the sound of the wind and rain. “Dolphins have fantastic hearing.”
The force of a high wave suddenly snatched the tiller from Zoe’s hands.
“Look out!” she cried. “Duck!”
Ben threw himself down just in time, as the boom lifted and whipped across the boat with a crack.
The dinghy keeled over, the mast nearly touching the waves. Then, caught by the wind, it lurched over the other way, sending the children sprawling.
“We’re out of control!” cried Zoe. “We’ve got to get the sails down – and fast. Take the tiller and steer into the wind if you can.”
She scrambled over to the mast and released the mainsail, lowering it as fast as she could. Then she did the same with the jib.
Ben was struggling with the tiller. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on to this,” he yelled, as the dinghy bucked and tossed in the waves.
“Don’t worry,” Zoe shouted. “It’ll be better when we’ve got a sea anchor.”
“But there isn’t an anchor in the boat!” cried Ben.
“I know. I’m going to make one.”
She pulled out the bailing bucket and untied the rope from its hook. She leaned out over the bow and tied the rope to the mooring handle right on the front of the boat.
“Have you gone mad?” shouted Ben. “That’s no good as an anchor. It won’t even reach the bottom.”
“It doesn’t have to,” said Zoe. She heaved the bucket into the sea. Immediately the children felt the tug of the boat on the taut rope and it was blown round to face the oncoming waves.
They breathed a sigh of relief as the dinghy rode the next swell.
“A sea anchor creates a drag,” Zoe explained. “It makes us point into the wind and waves so we won’t get blown around as much. When we learned about this on our course I never thought I’d be using it for real.”
“I get it,” said Ben. “The bucket’s full of water so it acts like a sort of brake when the wind and water try to push the dinghy backwards.”
“Exactly,” replied Zoe, dashing the rain from her eyes. “Now we must both get down as low as possible and stay in the centre.”
Ben lay down and scrabbled about in the bottom of the boat. “What are you doing?” yelled Zoe.
“We should put our flippers on,” Ben yelled back. “Just in case.”
They’d just got them strapped to their feet when Ben glanced up. What he saw froze him to the spot.
A huge wave was speeding towards them, towering over the dinghy’s prow, its top spraying with angry white foam.
Zoe could feel the swirl of a strong undercurrent trying to pull the dinghy round. It crested the next wave, and lurched so violently
that she thought it would snap in half. Now they were plummeting into a deep trough and the huge wave was upon them. She gave a desperate pull on the tiller.
But it was too late. The boat was caught up by the fierce swell and the next minute it flipped sideways and turned right over. Zoe felt the whip of ropes and sails and managed to take a gasping breath before being flung into the dark, churning water.
Despite her life jacket, she was being tumbled around in the towering waves. No sooner did she feel air on her face than she was rolled back under.
Then at last a wave pushed her up and she felt herself bursting into the air. She breathed deeply and let herself float on the swell. She looked round desperately for her brother. But all she could make out were dark, ominous waves that lifted her up high and sucked her down again.
There was no sign of Ben.
CHAPTER TEN
“Ben!” shouted Zoe, hearing the panic in her own voice. “Ben! Where are you?”
A jumble of thoughts went round her head. Had her brother been swept further out to sea by the current? Had he jumped clear of the boat? Was he caught inside it, unable to free himself?
Zoe had a moment of cold, paralyzing horror. Wherever he was in this terrible sea, she had little chance of rescuing him.
She shook those fears away. She knew she had to try and find him. She scanned the waves. It was a terrifying sight. Each swell looked bigger than the one before and the wind was blowing the rain hard into her face until her cheeks stung. The black clouds were still overhead, making it so dark it was impossible to see far.
And then a faint cry reached her. Zoe pushed herself round in the water to see a dark shape being thrown about in the waves. It must be Ben!
Zoe struggled to make her way to him, feeling herself being sucked back the whole time by the currents. She could see Ben’s arms thrashing through the water. At last, he was near enough for her to grab hold of his life jacket.
“You’re OK!” Zoe could scarcely get the words out in her relief.
“Just about,” shouted her brother over the roar of the storm. “Now what?”
“Find the boat!” yelled Zoe. “We need something to hold on to.”
“Won’t it have sunk?”
“Flotation tank. Keeps it on the surface. And with any luck the backpacks will still be attached.”
“So we just have to locate it then.”
“Easy!” shouted Zoe. “You tagged it, remember.”
“Brilliant!” Ben tried to punch the air and choked on a mouthful of water.
Zoe pulled her BUG out of the water, feeling a surge of relief that it was safely secured to her diving belt. She wiped her wet hair from her eyes and called up the tracking screen. “It’s a long way off!” she called, watching the orange light in the water that marked the dinghy’s position. “But we’ve got to try. This way.”
Fighting the storm currents, they tried to make headway through the dark water.
Finally, Zoe slowed and trod water. “We’re not getting very far,” she panted. “I need a rest.”
“Agreed,” gasped Ben. They lay their heads back on their life jackets, holding hands to keep together, riding each wave.
“Is it my imagination or are the waves getting calmer?” said Ben, at last.
“You’re right,” said Zoe. “Look over there, there’s a break in the cloud.”
Ben looked up. Thin beams of sunlight could be seen filtering through the clouds.
“You’ve still got your BUG, haven’t you?” asked Zoe.
“Safely tied to my belt,” answered Ben. “But the limpet’s with the boat – so there’s no point in sending out a call to Fingal.
He’d go there instead of coming to us.”
“He’s probably way off now,” said Zoe, “but we can still check his tracking signal.”
She had just got her hand round her BUG when the dark water swirled ahead and something heavy slammed into their legs. Ben and Zoe looked down in alarm.
A smiling dolphin face popped up from the waves in front of them, a scar running down from its right eye. It was Fingal. The young dolphin chirped loudly, walked backwards on his tail and then came swimming back to them.
Zoe stroked his side as he swam past.
“We’re so glad to see you,” she cried. “Now the hurricane’s moved on, you’ve come to find us!”
Suddenly, the water all around them began to seethe, and in an instant they were surrounded by sleek grey bodies, arcing and diving through the waves.
“It’s a pod of dolphins,” gasped Ben. “Fingal seems to have made friends with them.”
They could see Fingal leaping amongst the group.
“They’re getting a bit close for comfort,” shouted Zoe, above the cries and chirps. “They’re circling us. I expect they’re just playing, but we’ll have trouble getting past them.”
The dolphins were swimming right up to Ben and Zoe now, forming a tight band around them. They felt their arms and legs being buffeted by the strong flippers.
Ben held out his arms to fend them off.
“I don’t think they’re playing,” he said anxiously. “We should try and break through before we get hurt.”
As a tail passed him, he kicked hard, hoping to burst through the gap, but at once another dolphin was on him, pushing him back to Zoe with its nose.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he yelled. “Remember that programme about those dolphins that attacked seals and ate them?”
Zoe looked at him in horror. “We’re in big trouble!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They tried to fend off the dolphins, pushing against the strong bodies.
“Fingal’s still with them,” cried Ben. “Look, here he comes. Surely he won’t hurt us.”
But the young dolphin began to join in with the jostling. The circle got even tighter.
“We’re going to be crushed,” shouted Zoe.
Suddenly, between the troughs in the waves, Ben could just see another fin cutting through the water towards them.
“There’s a shark out there!” he exclaimed.
And now Zoe understood what the pod was doing.
“They’re protecting us,” she gasped. “Keeping the shark away. And Fingal’s helping them.”
Two of the dolphins peeled away from the pod and swam straight for the shark.
There was a tremendous splashing as the three huge creatures crashed together.
“What’s happening?” yelled Ben.
“I can’t see,” Zoe yelled back. “They must be fighting it off.”
Their dolphin guards continued to swim round them, Fingal giving the children a reassuring nudge with his nose as he passed.
Then Ben realised that the two dolphins were back. The pod was suddenly giving urgent chirps and squeaks.
“They must have chased it away,” he shouted. “There’s no sign –”
To Zoe’s horror, he gave a cry and disappeared under the water.
The dolphins dived frantically. Zoe tried to follow, but the life jacket kept her on the surface. She tore at the straps, flung it off and dived, searching for her brother.
She could see him now and the blood turned to ice in her veins. The shark had swum under the pod and got its teeth firmly round one of Ben’s flippers. It was shaking him like a rag doll. She swam down and tried to pull Ben away. But she was no match for the huge shark.
Then she remembered something she’d read about shark attacks. Hit it on the nose. She kicked down hard with her heel and whacked the shark just above its mouth. The shark recoiled, letting go of the flipper. Zoe grabbed Ben’s life jacket and made for the surface as it lunged again, its mouth open wide, showing rows of sharp, deadly teeth.
Suddenly, something sleek and grey shot across and rammed the shark hard in the side of its face. It was Fingal. The shark reeled at the blow.
Ben’s life jacket was pulling him up to the surface. Zoe swum up beside him.
“I didn’t see it coming
!” gasped Ben.
They peered anxiously into the depths. Dark shapes were flashing backwards and forwards in a desperate frenzy, as the other dolphins joined Fingal in attacking the shark.
“We need to get away from here,” said Zoe urgently. “But how?”
A grey streamlined body pushed in between them and leapt into the air. It swam round and came up to them, a happy grin on its scarred face.
“It’s Fingal!” exclaimed Ben.
Their young friend nudged them with his nose. Then he swam round and came up behind them, lifting their arms as he passed. He did it again.
“What’s he up to?” said Ben.
“He wants us to take hold of his dorsal fin,” said Zoe. “I think he’s going to give us a tow. It’s probably part of his training. I hope he’s got a destination in mind.”
As Fingal went to pass them again, they grasped his back fin, and at once felt his strength and speed as he pulled them through the water.
“I don’t really care where we go,” Ben shouted back, spluttering a little as the foamy waves splashed in his face. “As long as it’s far away from that shark.”
Fingal swam strongly, keeping his fin just above the surface of the water. Zoe’s hand began to feel numb from hanging on for so long, but Fingal seemed tireless. Then a worry began to form in her head.
“He’s only ever lived in a pool,” she called. “He could be swimming in circles.”
“You’re right,” Ben called back. “But what else can we do? There’s a hungry shark out there somewhere and…” He broke off and dashed the water from his eyes. “Can you see what I see?”
“What?” demanded Zoe, trying to peer ahead. “What is it?”
“Palm trees!”
“Is it the shore?” asked Zoe. She could see the tops of the green, frondy leaves now, the sun shining brightly on them through the widening gap in the clouds.
“It’s the coral island,” shouted Ben. “Fingal’s brought us to safety.”
