Aurora and the Popcorn Dolphin

by Sarah Webb

  “I’d love a kayaking buddy,” she told him. “Go on, please, Aidan? We’ll be really careful. And Rory needs to keep fit for her swimming. It’s not good for her to be cooped up in the house all day.”

  “I don’t want you taking any chances, Alanna,” he said after reluctantly agreeing. “Don’t go too far. Stay together and hug the coast, understand? And, Rory, take your cell phone. Put it in one of the waterproof cases.”

  Alanna smiled. “Thanks, Aidan. I’ll look after Rory. I promise.”

  It was really fun − just the two of us paddling around the harbour with Click playing in the waves next to us.

  On Thursday night, during dinner, Cal asks Dad if he can take the RIB out the following day. Mattie seems to have forgiven Cal for going kayaking in the rapids, or at least he’s not grounded any more. Dad isn’t keen at first.

  “I don’t know,” he says. “There’s a serious engine on that RIB, Cal. I’m not sure you could handle it alone.”

  “I have an advanced powerboat certificate,” Cal says. “And I’ll be careful, Aidan.”

  Cal’s an expert at kayaking, diving and driving power boats? Typical. Is there anything he can’t do? He’s so darn accomplished it gets on my nerves.

  “Mattie?” Dad looks at her. “What do you think? I’m just worried that the engine might fail or something. It’s spluttering a bit.”

  Mattie gives a laugh. “I hate to say it, but that son of mine’s a genius when it comes to fixing marine engines. How about he has a look at it for you before he goes out, Aidan? I bet he’ll have it purring like a kitten in no time.”

  I roll my eyes. Of course he will.

  “In fact,” Mattie says, “why don’t we all go out in the RIB tomorrow? Rory can join us too. It’s supposed to be a lovely day.”

  “I’ve arranged to go kayaking with Alanna,” I say quickly. There’s no way I want to be stuck on a boat with Cal and Dad all afternoon.

  “We can meet you and Alanna in Seafire Bay, Rory,” Dad says. “That way your old pops will get to spend some time with you.”

  I’ll sound petty if I protest, so I say nothing. Cal’s also gone pretty quiet.

  “Great plan,” Mattie says. “A Finn family outing. I can’t wait.”

  The following afternoon, I meet Alanna on the small beach at the harbour. It’s a beautiful day, warm and calm. The sea is glassy and inviting and I can’t wait to get paddling.

  “Talk about keen,” she says, grinning at me. I’m already in my wetsuit and wetsuit boots, and my buoyancy aid is strapped on. My cell phone is zipped into the front of it. It has Mattie and Cal’s numbers on it, just in case I can’t get hold of Dad. Captain Careful is really living up to his name! The first time I went kayaking with Alanna, he wanted me to carry emergency flares until she reassured him that she wouldn’t let me out of her sight. As it is, he has me carrying an extra rope and two spare paddles that I have to strap to each of the kayaks, just in case we lose our first paddle overboard.

  Two kayaks are already at the water’s edge, half pulled up on the beach, the waves lapping at their bows. Mattie kindly dropped them off in her jeep earlier. Their black paddles are neatly propped against the harbour wall, like bars of a cage.

  “I saw the gang heading out in the RIB a while back,” Alanna says, pulling her wetsuit over her legs. “Your dad and Mattie and Cal.”

  “They want to meet us in Seafire Bay at four,” I say. “Is that OK?” I’m not looking forward to seeing Cal and I’m almost hoping Alanna will say no and that she’d like to explore another part of the coastline instead, but, of course, she doesn’t.

  “Absolutely,” she says. “That’s a great idea. I hope the dolphins are still around. I’d love to see them again.”

  Once we’re ready, Alanna shows me how to get into the kayak. It’s a different kind to the ones I’ve used before, which are just a moulded piece of plastic you sit on and don’t have a special built-in seat or hatches like this one. This is called a sea kayak and Alanna says they are better for exploring the coastline. You have to push this kayak into the sea and then get into it by putting one leg on either side. Following her lead, I lower my butt onto the top edge of the black seat, carefully, so the boat doesn’t tip over. Then I swing my legs into the kayak, sticking them forwards until my feet reach the footrests, and then finally I wiggle my body down until I’m sitting on the seat. There’s water in the bottom of the boat and on the seat and it soaks through my wetsuit, making my butt wet, but I don’t mind. After paddling we’ll probably go swimming, so I’ll get wet anyway.

  “Ready?” Alanna asks.

  I nod firmly. “All set.”

  Alanna starts paddling out of the harbour and I follow her. The kayaks cut through the waves cleanly, like they’re slicing the water apart. Once we’re out on the open water, I feel a gentle sea breeze on my face. We turn left and start hugging the coast, paddling side by side.

  I have a nice comfortable rhythm going, blade in and pull, opposite blade in and pull. I try to remember to “engage my core”, as my swim coach would say, making my stomach muscles work. I miss swim training and my friends there, and I miss the adrenaline of competing. I can’t wait to get back to it in the fall.

  After a while, we pass Horseshoe Strand and start heading towards Seafire Point. I hear a splash beside me and look over. A familiar beak and head pop out of the water.

  “Hey, Click,” I say. He disappears for a second, then appears in front of my kayak again. I don’t want to hit him, so I stop paddling. “What are you doing?” I ask. He’s holding himself high out of the water, facing me, completely still. It’s not normal dolphin behaviour. Usually they sweep past the side of boats or kayaks, swimming alongside or in the wake.

  Alanna digs her paddle in vertically on one side, then the other, to make her kayak stop beside mine. “Why isn’t he moving?” she asks me.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  Click gives a long, low whistle with a higher pitch at the end. I don’t know what it means. It’s not a whistle I’ve ever heard before. It’s similar to the one dolphins in captivity make but with a different ending. He whistles again and then Alanna says, “Look, it’s the RIB.”

  I spot an orange RIB powering towards us, Cal at the helm, Dad and Mattie sitting on the seat behind him. Cal slows the boat down as it approaches us, taking care to avoid Click. He comes to a clean stop beside us.

  “Hey, girls,” Mattie calls. “Want to come aboard?”

  “Sure,” Alanna says before I have a chance to say, “No, thanks, we’re fine in the kayaks.”

  Mattie and Dad help us into the boat and Cal ties our kayaks behind the RIB.

  Click is still close to us. He is holding half of his body out of the water, watching me. He dives down and, seconds later, leaps into the air, curving his body into an S shape. Then he swims towards the boat and stalls in the water just in front of us again.

  “Why is Click staring at you like that?” Cal asks.

  “I have no idea. Maybe he was telling us that you were approaching? But that doesn’t make sense. You’re here now and he’s still doing it. There’s clearly something else bothering him.”

  Click gives a whistle, then leaps into the air again, landing his S shape with a splash this time.

  “Wow!” Alanna says. “I’ve never seen him do that before.”

  Click starts whistling again, this time four short, popping whistles in a row that sound like … popcorn.

  I’ve heard that sound before, but…

  Click is swimming away from us now, out to sea, but he keeps stopping and looking back.

  “Looks like he wants us to follow him,” Dad says.

  I nod. Dad’s right, but why is Click acting like this? It’s so strange.

  “Hey,” Mattie says, pointing at the water near where Click is swimming. “There’s something… What is that?”

  Cal scans the water. “Yellow marker buoys. You can just about make them out under the waves. They’re pro
bably holding up a fishing net.”

  “But Click’s swimming towards it! He might get caught, especially if he keeps looking back at us,” I say. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but, Dad, we have to do something!” Just then Click ducks down under the water and out of sight. “Dad! He’s disappeared. What if he gets stuck?”

  “What are we going to do?” Alanna asks. “Call the coastguard?”

  “No,” Mattie says. “That would take too long. Click could get into trouble before then.”

  “How long can dolphins stay underwater?” Alanna asks.

  “Ten minutes. Maybe a bit longer,” Dad says. “Can the nets be pulled up?”

  “No, they’re usually fixed to the sea bed,” Mattie says.

  “So we have to go down and stop Click,” I say. “We have to dive. It’s the only way to check that Click is OK. Please, Dad.”

  Mattie looks at Dad. “Aidan?”

  “Rory’s right,” he says. “I’ll have to dive. Hopefully it’s not too late.”

  “You can’t go down on your own, Dad,” I say. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, I’m sorry, Rory,” he says. “I can’t let you do that. Wild dolphins can be unpredictable when they’re stressed, and if Click does get stuck in that netting, there’s no knowing how he’ll react. Also that other pod might be here somewhere.”

  The other pod… And then I remember – Click’s whistle was from Mom’s research.

  “Danger,” I say. “Click’s whistle. It means danger. It was in Mom’s dolphin dictionary, the one she started when she was younger. He was telling us about the fishing nets.”

  “You’re exactly right, Rory,” Dad says. “I should have thought of that. But why warn us and then swim towards them?”

  “I bet one of the other dolphins is stuck in the net!” I say suddenly. “The mom or the baby.” Then I remember the other noise Click made – the pop-pop-popping sound. “He was making the baby dolphin’s signature whistle!” I say. “He was trying to tell us that Baby is in trouble. Maybe she’s caught in the net!”

  “If that’s what Click was doing, that would be … incredible,” Mattie says.

  “You’re right,” Dad says. “It would. And if that is the case, then the other pod will be around here and there is even more reason for you to stay on the boat, Rory. That male is big. And the mother could be there too. One of them could accidentally hit you with their tail, give you concussion, knock out your air supply, maybe even bite you. I’m sorry, but it’s just not—”

  “Dad, those dolphins won’t hurt me, I know it. I’m begging you, Dad, please? Let me do this with you. I know you’re scared something will happen to me, that I’ll have an accident like Mom, but nothing’s going to go wrong, I swear.” I pause and then add, “Mom wouldn’t want you to dive alone. She’d want us to do it together.”

  He goes quiet. Then he gives a long, deep sigh. “I don’t like this and it goes against all my instincts, but you’re right, she would. You can dive with me. But dive safe and don’t take any risks.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “I’m coming too,” Cal says. “If the baby is caught in the nets, you’ll need help to cut her out.”

  “OK,” Dad says. “You’re on, Cal. Let’s dive.”

  I’m sitting on the side of the RIB, looking at Dad and Cal. We all have our BCDs on, tanks on our backs and fins on our feet. We also have dive knives strapped to our calves. Bare calf in Cal’s case – he’s still in his swimming shorts and a rash vest, but it will have to do. There’s no dive suit for him.

  Mattie and Alanna are in the boat, watching us. They both look worried, but I know they understand why we have to dive.

  “Let’s get wet,” Cal says.

  A shiver runs up my spine. It’s what Mom always used to say before a dive… How does he—? But there’s no time to think about it. I nod at Cal and then at Dad. “Let’s get wet,” I murmur. After pulling my dive mask over my face and fixing the regulator in my mouth, I do a backwards roll off the dive boat and hit the water with a splash. Cal’s just behind me, followed by Dad. I give them an OK sign and then a thumbs down, descend sign. They nod, return my thumbs down and we all let the air out of our BCDs and slip under the surface together.

  The first thing I see is Click hovering in the water, as if he’s waiting for us. He swims away from us and then turns to check we’re still behind him. We follow his tail flukes. After diving for several metres, he starts to move horizontally until there’s a faint shimmer in the water ahead of us. As we draw closer, I see that it’s a large gill net. There are lots of fish inside – some of them are still struggling but many are dead. And then I spot Baby. We were right – she is stuck in the net. Her tail flukes are both caught in the mesh and she’s making tiny squawking noises, clearly terrified. Scar is pulling at the net, trying to free her. Dolphin Mom’s trapped too, just below Baby, but unlike her little one, she’s still.

  Click turns his head as if to say, “Please help her.”

  I swim towards the net. There’s a moment when I’m scared Scar will attack me – he turns round so fast – but then Click gives a whistle and Scar moves away. I take my knife out of its holder and start slashing at the plastic to try and free Baby. Cal and Dad do the same, and within seconds, Baby is free! She floats away from the net, motionless. But as we watch, her tail twitches, followed by her flippers, and then suddenly she comes to life. She’s sluggish, but she manages to swim towards the surface to breathe, Scar by her side. Baby’s going to survive! Cal gives me an OK sign and I give him one back. But it’s not over yet – Dolphin Mom is still trapped. I point at her and Cal nods. Dad is way ahead of us, though, and has already swum over to her, his knife outstretched.

  Click follows him and starts whistling at Dolphin Mom. I think he’s telling her that we’ve come to help, that she’s going to be all right now.

  She’s struggled so much that the mesh is wrapped around her whole body, along with one of the ropes that holds the side of the net. I point at the rope and then at Dad. He nods and gets to work hacking through the thick twist of blue plastic.

  I start cutting Dolphin Mom out of the net, beginning at her beak. Cal helps me. Her eyes are open, but they look dull and listless. I think she can sense me because her eyelids are flickering a little, but she’s not moving. It’s not looking good.

  I saw at the net as quickly as I can, cursing the fishermen who put her in this danger. What were they thinking? Idiots! But I can’t dwell on that right now. I have to keep cutting. I attack the mesh harder, cutting and pulling, cutting and pulling. The plastic is sharp and it eats through the flesh on my fingers as I try to reef it away from her tail flukes. I spot wafts of blood in the water – my blood! Cal is working equally hard.

  Click stays right beside us, watching our work. After a few frantic minutes, the mesh comes apart and Dolphin Mom floats free of her horrible plastic chains. But unlike Baby, she’s not moving her tail or her fins.

  Come on, I urge her, swim! Baby needs you. You can’t die. You can’t leave her alone in the world. But it’s no use − Dolphin Mom’s still and her eyes are closed.

  Cal puts his hand on my arm and makes the thumbs up sign. He wants to surface.

  I shake my head and point at Dolphin Mom. He hugs himself and gestures upwards again. Of course – without a wetsuit, he must be freezing. The water down here is icy cold. He needs to surface, and as his dive buddy, I have to go with him. I have to leave you, I tell Dolphin Mom. We signal to Dad and all surface, together.

  When we get back up, Cal is almost blue with the cold. He’s shivering violently and his teeth are chattering so much he can’t talk.

  “Cal!” Mattie says from the boat. “Are you all right?”

  I pull out my regulator. “He’s freezing,” I tell her and Alanna. “There’s a survival blanket in one of the boxes. Get him into the boat and wrap it around him.”

  “Will do,” Alanna says. They pull him into the dive boat, take off his di
ving gear, place him carefully on the floor and wrap the silver foil blanket around his shaking body.

  “Did you see Baby?” I ask Alanna when I’m sitting in the RIB. “She came up to breathe, right?”

  “We saw her,” Alanna says.

  “What about the mom?” Dad asks. “She was trapped in the net too.”

  Alanna shakes her head and I feel hollow inside.

  “Then she didn’t make it,” I say. “We should have split up. Or freed her first. I’m so stupid. I saw that she wasn’t moving and her eyes were closing over, but I still went to Baby first. The mom must have been trapped down there a lot longer, though. We should have cut her loose first. But we helped Baby instead.” Hot tears start to roll down my cheeks. I wipe them away and stare down at the floor, willing myself to stop crying. “She’s dead because of me.”

  “Babies have smaller lungs,” Dad says. “We were right to free the baby first, Rory. Listen to me, it’s not your fault.” He puts his arm around me, but I shrug it off.

  “But she’s dead!” I practically shout, my head still down. “I drowned her. She was relying on me and I failed.”

  “No, Rory, it’s my fault,” he says. “If only I’d said yes to you diving with me sooner. If I’d trusted you—”

  Mattie cuts in. “It’s no one’s fault except those stupid fishermen. I can’t believe they’re still laying those killer nets. It’s completely illegal so close to the shore. I’m ringing the coastguard right now and I hope they find them and lock them up. Murderers.”

  “Mattie’s right,” Alanna says. “You did your best, Rory. I think you and Cal and your dad are heroes.”

  At that I start to cry again. If I’m such a hero, why do I feel so miserable?

  I hear a splash in the water behind me and I swing around. It’s Scar, followed by Baby.

  “Would you look who’s come up to say hello,” Dad says.

  Baby’s right fluke is bleeding, leaving red swirls in the water.

  “Is she going to be OK, Dad?” I ask. “That cut looks pretty bad. It must hurt.” I sliced my hands on the nets too and they are stinging like crazy. I ball them tightly, which helps a little.