Far From The Sea We Know

by Frank Sheldon

  “What did you do?”

  “Watched for a while. Didn’t even seem to know I was there at first, but showed no surprise when he looked at me and said, ‘Not so easy as take apart.’”

  “Was he upset?”

  “Seemed fine, maybe better than usual. Eyes clear. Finally told me he was up all night, put the fish back in the cooler, smiled, and left to log some sleep.”

  “I was wondering why I didn’t see him early this morning,” Matthew said. “Has he ever done anything like this before?”

  “No. Been part of my crew for thirty years. Found him in the Azores. Solid as they come.”

  “Andrew, all this can’t be coincidence,” Penny said to Thorssen. “Do you have any ideas?”

  “Wasn’t happening till we got to the whales. All the students I’ve known for at least a year, the permanent crew much longer, of course. Had Malcolm and Emory on all last summer and nothing like you described.”

  “A connection with the whales…” Matthew said in almost a whisper.

  “Seems to be there.”

  “Our list of plausible explanations isn’t going to be long. Drugs and mass hysteria,” Penny said. “It’s hard to see drugs as a factor unless it was somehow unintentional. What I was wondering is whether somebody could be spiking the orange juice or something.”

  “Doubt it,” Thorssen said. “What happened to me the other morning, before you arrived. Seemed real.”

  “Seeming real does not make it real,” she answered. “Maybe—”

  “Wait,” Thorssen said, cupping his hand to his ear. Faintly at first, then suddenly much louder, the droning rhythmic thumping of a helicopter reverberated.

  “Damn ’em!” Thorssen came out of his chair. The cozy atmosphere in the small cabin dissolved.

  “The Navy again?” Penny said.

  “Smaller,” he answered, “and in front of us.”

  Matthew understood immediately. “The whales…”

  Thorssen had already rushed out, leaving the door to bang back against the bulkhead.

  “Gray whales hate helicopters!” Matthew said. “That’s why they instructed the Navy chopper to come in from behind us.”

  Penny scooped up the binoculars, and they headed for topsides, finding a clear view off to the side of the tracking console. A small helicopter hovered directly over the whales. Matthew glanced back to see Thorssen on the bridge speaking heatedly into a radio mic.

  Penny peered through the binoculars. “Looks like—yes, there’s a guy hanging out with a camera, a TV camera. Here,” she said, handing the binoculars to Matthew.

  The frenzied turmoil of the whales beat the water to a boil. Anger at the stupidity of the news crew fired through Matthew’s body. “They probably think these will make great action shots for the evening news.”

  All at once several of the whales surged almost completely out of the water. As they came down, tremendous splashes from their bodies and crashing flukes erupted as high in the air as the chopper. The pilot tried to pull up and away, but the machine abruptly stalled and shook, the air intake smothered by water. The machine struggled up for a moment then came down, hitting the water at an extreme angle. The still spinning rotor sliced into the waves, but the whales had moved out of the way and were now circling the downed aircraft, thrashing the sea all around it into a rage of seething froth.

  “Oh God, no…they hit one!”

  It was Mary Sims, standing behind Jack who was sitting at the tracking console. His face was like spoilt milk as he stared at the video display in horror. Becka, in the seat next to him twisted around and stared back toward the bridge.

  The deck shuddered under Matthew’s feet as the Valentina’s engines throttled to full power. Thorssen’s voice came over the PA: “Becka, get the Zodiacs over the side. You’ll take one with Emory. Matthew, you’re in the other with Dirk.”

  Becka had obviously anticipated the command and was already on her way to the small inflatable boats. Matthew was about to follow when Ripler jerked his head up from the console and growled, “Matthew Amati! You brought this. Blood in the water, Amati. You hear me!”

  The force in Ripler’s voice hit him like an electric shock, and he didn’t glance back until he had reached the boats. Penny was on her way to the bridge. Mary had taken Becka’s place at the console, but was ignoring the instruments. Her hand was on Ripler’s shoulder but, helpless in her own torment, she could only gaze at him in silence. Ripler, still glaring at Matthew, wore a mixture of anger and fear on his face as if branded by a curse.

  Becka and Emory were winching the first Zodiac down over the stern.

  “Dirk,” Becka ordered, “Stay on the port side, we’ll follow starboard. Move!”

  Matthew scrambled down the ladder ahead of Dirk. The setup was almost exactly like a rig he had used before. At least they didn’t have to worry about causing more injuries: the Zodiac’s engine used a jet instead of a prop. He hesitated only a second and started it.

  Dirk hopped in and said, “Better if I take that.” Matthew scurried to the bow and twisted around to give Dirk the go-ahead sign. He felt the gears shift and they backed off.

  “Put the damn life vest on!” Becka yelled.

  Matthew looked up to see her, one hand still cupped to her mouth. Emory was lowering the other boat.

  “Hang on!” Dirk yelled as he wheeled the Zodiac around the stern of the Valentina. He zipped up his life vest, threw another to Matthew, and gunned the engine as their heading came around to the whales and the downed chopper.

  They quickly increased speed, and Matthew somehow managed to get his life vest on with one hand as he held tightly with the other to a rope laced around the rubber gunwales. They were bouncing over the wave crests, flying completely out of the water at one point. He leaned as far forward as possible to help them plane over the waves.

  As they approached the whales, he looked back and saw the other Zodiac heading from the inland side. The chopper, a light duty model common to local TV news stations, was still floating on its pontoons. One door hung askew, swinging crazily back and forth just above the churning foam. The people inside appeared unharmed, but Matthew’s gaze was drawn away to the color of the water.

  Ripler was right.

  Blood swirled and frothed in the wake of the raging whales like some sickening milkshake. Nearby, a young whale languished with a gash in his flank almost a meter long. He was still breathing, and two other whales had nudged up on either side to support him. As they slowly moved away, it was hard to tell how deep the gash was or how badly the calf was injured. A rotor from the helicopter had completely broken off, and it must have hit the calf before it stopped turning.

  The other whales, still agitated, lunged back and forth until one suddenly bumped up hard against the helicopter tumbling the passengers inside about like so much loose change.

  Dirk cut the throttle as low as he could and shouted, “We need to get them now!”

  Another bump by a whale smashed one of the pontoons and the helicopter lurched over so far that water rushed in through the doorway. The cameraman managed to get his gear off just before another bump caused him to fall half-out. The only handhold he could get was the broken door. A woman, who had been sitting next to him, grabbed on to his other arm.

  The Zodiac was now only fifteen meters away. Matthew leaned over the bow, preparing to grab them, but another whale struck the helicopter, and the door fell off taking the cameraman and the woman with it. Matthew reached for a flotation cushion and managed to throw it directly in front of the man’s spluttering face, and he grabbed it instinctively, clutching it to his chest as if he wanted to make it part of his body forever. Matthew tossed the only other one he could find to the woman, but it landed short and the man, with the terror of the doomed in his eyes, grabbed that one as well. The woman splashed over and was smart enough to come up behind the panicked man and hold on to his back.

  “Heads up!” Dirk yelled. Another whale was heading straight fo
r them. Matthew braced himself, but at the last instant, the whale plunged under them all. His relief was short lived, however, as the whale came up under the helicopter, lifted its flukes, gave an extra push and flipped the broken machine upside down. Soon only the bottom of the pontoons remained visible.

  The two in the water were still floundering but the pilot, who had remained in the helicopter, was nowhere in sight.

  “Closer!” Matthew shouted to Dirk, but two whales crossed slowly in front of them, blocking their way. Becka, in the other Zodiac, came around and toward the capsized helicopter. She took off her life vest, threw it in the water and plunged in after it, head first. Matthew hoped that from her angle she had somehow seen the pilot.

  Dirk moved the Zodiac closer, and Matthew stretched out to the cameraman and the woman but still could not quite reach them.

  “A little more,” he yelled to Dirk, and then to the woman, “Let go of him. I can’t pull you both in at once.” The cameraman was obviously in complete shock. The woman gave Matthew a look as if her life were over but let go and even gave the cameraman a final push toward the Zodiac. Matthew caught the man’s flailing hand and with difficulty dragged him into the boat, where he curled up like a snail around the life cushions he still held.

  “Quick! She’s going down!” Dirk shouted.

  Matthew was about to jump in the water to grab the struggling woman when a large gray came up from nowhere and lifted her completely clear of the water. The whale stayed on the surface almost motionless. The woman looked like a baby as she lifted herself up onto her arms, and the fear had disappeared from her face. Matthew waved Dirk to go closer. He reached out and she started to extend her arm toward him, but hesitated.

  “Come on!” he urged.

  She slowly extended her arm again and was finally close enough to clasp his hand. With all his strength Matthew heaved her into the boat with one pull. She did not even touch the water, and barely hit the edge of the inflatable boat before bouncing in a somersault to land next to the cameraman.

  “Becka has the pilot!” Dirk said, pointing. The other Zodiac was already heading back to the ship, a pair of unfamiliar feet hanging over the side. Dirk eased their boat around to follow. Matthew put his hand on the cameraman’s shoulder, but this only caused him to hunch into an even tighter ball. There was not much to be done for him until they got back. The woman rose slowly on one elbow and looked his way as if she had no idea where she was. Matthew pulled off his sweatshirt and handed it to her.

  “Here, put this over him, he’s in shock. Take it.”

  The woman absently took the sweatshirt, but as she wrapped it around the quivering form of the cameraman, she slowly came out of her daze. She leaned over and spoke into the cameraman’s ear, her hand rubbing his back.

  As they pulled up even with the other Zodiac, Emory yelled, “We’ll go in first! Our guy’s not coming around.”

  Becka was giving the pilot mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He wasn’t moving and she looked exhausted. Dirk approached the Valentina’s starboard side and maneuvered around to where Penny and some of the crew were waiting for them on the scaffold. They let the first Zodiac dock, and watched as Penny stepped in and took over for Becka. After catching her breath, Becka started rubbing the pilot’s hands. He suddenly gave a violent kick and convulsed in a coughing fit. They quickly turned him on his side and half-smiled in triumph as, retching and panting, he spewed out the seawater that had almost claimed his life.

  After the crew got him on the scaffold and winched him up on a stretcher frame, Emory eased his Zodiac back from the scaffold and Dirk brought theirs in.

  As Matthew cleated the line, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Thanks,” the newswoman said.

  She was in her late twenties, with wavy red hair, and blue eyes so dark they almost seemed purple. She suddenly looked so oddly innocent that his anger at their stupidity for harassing the whales began to dissolve.

  “Sure, well, the shock will hit you later. You’d better go up and get dry.”

  “I should stay with him,” she said, looking at the cameraman, but she seemed puzzled to be saying the words. He was still curled up as tight as a fist.

  Before Matthew could say anything else, Chiffrey hopped into the Zodiac and knelt by the cameraman, now rocking back and forth, mumbling and drooling. “I worked in a psycho ward for six months. Yep, I figured if you can take that, you can take anything. Best to get him into a dimly lit place with some familiar people.” He said to the woman, “You know him long?”

  “No,” she said. “He’s new.”

  Chiffrey shook his head. “Not any more.”

  She took a breath. “His name’s Daryl.”

  Chiffrey nodded, knelt down, and put a hand on the cameraman’s shoulder. “Daryl, we’re going to move you now, to a nice warm place.”

  Chiffrey turned toward the newswoman. “You can be the familiar face he needs, if you wouldn’t mind going with him.” In a low voice he said to Matthew, “The stretcher’s coming down. Need to do it clean and quick.”

  Matthew got both hands under the cameraman opposite Chiffrey, they counted to three under their breath and lifted. Daryl was so rigid that they were able to get him onto the stretcher with little trouble. From above, someone carefully hoisted him to the deck with the power winch. The woman climbed the ladder and disappeared after him.

  “Thanks, Lieutenant,” Matthew said.

  He nodded and said, “Got a feeling that action news coverage is not going to be Daryl’s true calling after all. He’s done.”

  Chiffrey stepped onto the ladder. Turning around before he went up, he said, “You did fine out there.” He was up and over before Matthew could respond.

  Dirk had been speaking on a walkie-talkie. He punched it off and said to Matthew, “The Captain wants us out again to check on the injuries to the calf. I guess he liked our teamwork. You ready?”

  “Let’s go.”

  They approached slower this time. The grays no longer showed any interest in the helicopter, or at least what little of it remained above the surface. In the center of the group, the injured calf was moving, but slowly. Matthew looked for the lead whale and could not see her anywhere, but there were plenty of others.

  “We’ll circle around first,” Dirk said. “Wouldn’t usually be so concerned, but you saw the way they flipped that chopper.”

  They took a slow swing across the ocean side again, until they were behind the whales. Matthew scanned back and forth and still could not find the leader. As they approached, Dirk cut the engine to the slowest idle. The other whales were still near the injured juvenile but not as close as they were before. The calf was breathing, the vapor coming out of his blowhole at regular intervals, but not swimming. Matthew pulled open the snap closure of his pocket, slipped out his sunglasses and put them on against the glare on the water’s surface.

  “She’s underneath the calf!”

  The stricken juvenile was large, but dwarfed by a dark mass barely moving and directly below him. Matthew was certain the whale supporting the calf was the leader, partly because of the size, but mostly because he could not find her anywhere else.

  Dirk shaded his eyes and peered over the side to see. “She can’t stay down for long. Twenty minutes at the most. Let’s wait. I’m going to try to get some shots of this.”

  Dirk sat down again and was getting a small camera ready when Thorssen’s voice came over the walkie-talkie. Dirk said, “Could you take that? The green button.”

  Matthew picked it up and clicked to send. “Matthew here, Captain, over.”

  “How’s the calf, over.”

  “He’s on the surface and still breathing and doesn’t seem to be bleeding much anymore. You’re not going to believe this, but the leader is underneath keeping him up, over.”

  “How long’s she been down, over.”

  Matthew looked at his watch. “We’re not sure. This must have happened between our coming and going. At leas
t ten minutes, perhaps longer. I think we should stand by, over.”

  “Do that. Getting my dive kit ready, over and out.”

  Matthew put the walkie-talkie down and glanced at Dirk. “You get all that?”

  “Yeah, but diving right now? They used to call these ‘Devil Fish,’ you know.”

  “When whalers were harpooning calves to draw the mothers in for slaughter.”

  “Which for them might as well be what just happened,” Dirk said. “I doubt if they will make allowances because it was a helicopter blade instead of a harpoon.”

  “You may be right, but look at them now.”

  All around him the grays swam in a vague circle, like goldfish in a bowl. There was nothing to suggest the violent turmoil of only minutes before, yet the huge form of the lead whale underneath the injured juvenile put a lie to any idea that all was back to normal. Only the languid swaying of its flukes showed that it was alive.

  Matthew spotted a diving mask amongst the gear and pulled it out. He spit on the inside glass, swished it around with some seawater, and slipped it over his head.

  “Can you move in a little closer?”

  Dirk cut the engine, grabbed two oars and slipped them into their locks, then slowly rowed forward.

  Matthew leaned out over the bow and plunged his head into the water. The sudden cold was paralyzing—no wonder the helicopter crew had been in such bad shape. The large gray floated silently underneath the wounded calf, her body dappled by bouncing rays of sunlight like a sunken hull. He came back up to breathe. The other Zodiac approached with Thorssen half-kneeling in the bow, holding onto an upright oar. With his yellow diving suit and salty hair, he looked like Poseidon about to intercede in some mortal drama.

  Penny was piloting this time. The regular crew had plenty on their hands so this made some sense. She cut the engine and they slowly coasted the rest of the way. Their bows touched and Matthew tossed a line across.