by Philip Roy
Merwin kept talking, but I had gone for such a long time without sleep that it was getting hard to hold my head up. His voice started sounding like a radio in another room. With a belly full of French toast, I plopped down on my cot, and shut my eyes. I was asleep in seconds.
Merwin was under strict orders to wake me if there were any problems, or if he wasn’t sure what to do. The sub was cruising along at nearly top speed, and the engine was purring like a cat. I checked it before lying down just to make sure it wasn’t straining. Merwin was so impressed with the engine that he just stared at it and didn’t know what to say. I was very proud of it. All he had to do while I slept was watch the radar, keep an eye on the tanker, and make sure we didn’t get too close. He said, no problem, it was a piece of cake. I thanked him for a wonderful breakfast, and went to bed.
I fell into a deep sleep, and had strange dreams. That always happened when I ate too much. In one of my dreams there was a monster ahead of us. Merwin was there, too. We were travelling through a jungle, and we could hear the monster roar, but couldn’t see it, even though it was right in front of us. I kept trying to warn Merwin to watch out for it, but he was flipping French toast and whistling at Hollie. I woke from the dream in a half-wake state, and wasn’t sure where I was or what was going on. I could still hear the monster rumbling, even as I opened my eyes. How could that be when I was awake?
Suddenly, in a panic, I recognized the sound I was hearing, and knew where it was coming from. I sprang out of bed, and flew up the portal. There, in front of us, not more than seventy-five feet, was the stern of the tanker rising out of the water like an iron giant. She had cut her engines, and we were about to crash into her. How could this have happened? Where was Merwin?
I raced back inside and shut the engine. Then I pulled the wheel and swung to port as sharply as possible. The sub lost speed as it turned, but we couldn’t avoid striking the hull of the tanker lightly. It was just a bump, and did no damage to anyone, yet it made a lot of noise inside the sub. I saw Merwin’s head pop up from inside the stern, just before we hit.
“What’s up?” he said, when he saw me turn the wheel.
“Brace yourself!” I yelled, but we struck the hull before he had a chance to, and the collision knocked him off his feet. “What did we hit?” he called from the floor.
“The tanker.”
“What? How is that possible?”
I started the engine again, and headed away from the ship. I wanted to put distance between us as quickly as possible in case there were men with rifles on her deck. It had happened before. Merwin climbed the portal to look for himself, and then came back inside. “How is it possible?” he asked again.
“I don’t know. I guess she cut her speed. When was the last time you checked on her?”
“About an hour ago, I guess. Or maybe two. We were gaining on her so slowly. She was still pretty far ahead last time I looked. I don’t know how we could have caught her so fast.”
“What were you doing?”
“Peeling potatoes in the cold room. And then I got distracted. Look.”
He showed me a handful of small sculptures—two whales and a submarine. He had sculpted them out of potatoes.
Chapter Twenty-three
WE NEVER KNEW WHY the tanker cut her speed and slowed to a crawl. No one from the ship tried to communicate with us, and we didn’t try to communicate with her. Had she suddenly realized she was being followed by a submarine, and thought we were a lot bigger and more dangerous than we were? Or did she maybe not even know we were here? But she had to know, because she would have seen us on radar. Was it because she knew she was heading for the 60-degree latitude line, beyond which she wasn’t legally allowed to go? Did she think we were a naval vessel perhaps, and were watching to see if she would cross that line, and waiting to arrest her captain and crew if she did? We had no way of knowing, but that seemed the most likely reason, and it appeared to be confirmed by the fact that she picked up speed again once she saw how tiny we were, and that we were not contesting her in any way. Merwin wanted to. He wanted to fire flares across her bow, but I said no. It wouldn’t mean anything to her, and would be a waste of valuable flares.
So, we watched and listened as she revved up her enormous engines, churned up the water in her wake, and very slowly began to pick up speed. Dropping back half a mile, just enough to avoid the heaviest turbulence, we followed as before.
A few hours later, the whales came back. I was surprised. For some reason they had attached themselves to us—perhaps because they liked Hollie, or were curious about him. Or maybe it was because Merwin started singing to them. Merwin said it was because they knew that we loved them. That was something Sheba would have said. Merwin believed that whales were so advanced they could know what our intentions were even without us expressing them. On some level, they just knew, as if they were reading our minds. That sounded pretty unbelievable to me, though I wanted to believe it, especially when I watched them, or looked into their eyes. But I remembered Ziegfried’s warning to me to remain objective and scientific about things, and not let my emotions tell me what was happening; otherwise I would go through life believing that butterflies were happy, and frogs were bored. While that seemed like important advice, I had to confess that Merwin’s view was a lot more convincing when we were actually in the presence of the whales.
There was nothing but water between us and the 60th latitude line, but it was still a thousand miles away, which was at least two more days of non-stop sailing, if the current stayed with us. It seemed crazy to me to travel so far south so unprepared. We only had one winter parka—mine—and one wet suit—also mine. We had a rubberized dinghy and an inflatable kayak—neither designed for cold weather, let alone Antarctic conditions. We did have plenty of diesel fuel, not vegetable fat, thanks to Ziegfried’s cautious wisdom, and a supply of food to last us two weeks, or maybe three, although the fresh fruit would be gone by the end of the first week, and the bread was already drying out. Fortunately it still tasted good in hot stew.
But I, too, couldn’t help wanting to follow the tanker now, and I hoped that somehow we might prevent her from refuelling the whalers, though I couldn’t see how. That we were being accompanied by whales made it seem all the more justified. It felt as though they had come to guide us down to where help was most needed. Merwin was absolutely convinced of that.
Over the next two days, the whales continued to swim alongside us, and we became very attached to them. It was hard not to. They were beautiful and they were gentle. The baby behaved just like a human baby would, tugging at its mother, and wanting to play all the time. The mother seemed sometimes joyful, and sometimes just tired. I dug out my camera, and took lots of pictures of both of them coming right to the hull of the sub, with Merwin leaning over in the harness, singing to them, and touching them.
Then, on the second day, Merwin had a special request. We were sitting down with bowls of stew and crusty bread, when he came out with it. “I have always dreamed of swimming with whales.”
I nodded my head. “Cool.”
“It’s one of my life’s dreams actually.”
I nodded again. “I think it would be awesome.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’d like to swim with these ones.”
“What? No way! It’s too cold here. You’d freeze to death.”
“But you’ve got a wet suit.”
“Yes, but, no offence, it wouldn’t fit you. And even if you could get into it, the water is still life-threateningly cold.”
“Cold water doesn’t bother me. I’m from Tasmania.”
“I’m from Newfoundland, and I can tell you that this water will kill you.” I looked at him to see if he was really being serious. He was. He was nuts. “I don’t think you realize how cold the water really is, Merwin.”
“I think I do. I’m only talking about going in for a couple of minutes, nothing longer than that.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s a crazy idea. I
can’t allow it.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t make a face, as I thought he would, and he never complained. We continued to eat in silence. After that, it was his turn to catch some sleep. I dimmed the lights once he got comfortable in his sleeping bag. If he were feeling sour at me, he certainly didn’t show it. I should have guessed that it was only because he hadn’t dropped the idea. He went to bed scheming to find another way. I had to give him credit—he never gave up until he got what he wanted.
During the night, I listened to the sounds the whales were making: clicking noises, grunts, and song-like whistles. They were mysterious sounds. There was something childlike about them, and something ancient. Whales were the caretakers of the sea, keeping an eye on it for millions of years. It amazed me to think how enormous they were yet they caused no destruction. They were as gentle and delicate as deer. As I leaned against the hatch with Hollie in my arms, and we listened to their voices, I had to agree with Merwin that they were more advanced than we were. I could better understand now why Captain Watson would devote his whole life to saving them. If we couldn’t save the whales, what hope was there for the rest of the world?
After the long night—the actual darkness of which lasted barely an hour—I was tired and ready for bed. I woke Merwin with a cup of coffee, and told him once again to keep an eye on things, and this time to make a visual check either through the periscope, or the portal, every fifteen minutes without fail. With a nod of his head he agreed. Then he asked me if he could try on my wet suit while I was sleeping. He just wanted to know if it would fit. What if there was an emergency, he said, and he had to wear it? He said he solemnly promised not to climb out of the portal with it. I shrugged my shoulders and said okay, but didn’t think he’d be able to get into it. It was hard enough for me to get into it. I pulled it out from underneath my mattress, tossed it to him, and went to bed.
“You promise you won’t go outside with it?” I said, as I rolled over on my side.
“I promise.”
“Okay then. Good luck.” Boy, was he going to need it.
Chapter Twenty-four
ONLY A FEW HOURS AFTER I went to bed, I felt a tugging at my shoulder.
“Alfred?”
“Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you.”
“That’s okay. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, everything’s great. Listen, I’m going to buy you a new wet suit when we get back to Tasmania, okay?”
“You’re going to buy me a new wet suit? Why?”
“Because I have to cut this one.”
“You have to cut it? Why?”
“Because I can’t get it off. I’ve tried for hours. I’m going crazy, and my hands and feet are turning numb. Would you help me cut it off?”
I sat up. Merwin looked terrible. His face was as red as a strawberry. He was drenched in sweat, and his face, hands, and feet were swollen. I didn’t know how he had managed to squeeze into the suit, but the zipper that ran the length of his back was coming apart. His belly stuck out smooth, round and black, like a big bowling ball.
“Yah, we’d better cut it off. Let me get my jackknife. Did you try wetting it?”
“Wetting it?”
“Yah, it’s designed to stretch when it’s wet.”
He looked down at himself. “No, I never thought of that. Maybe we should try that first.”
“Okay.” I climbed the portal with a pot, dipped it into the sea, and came back inside. “It’s going to be really cold.”
“I sure hope so. I’m burning up.”
I poured the water over his shoulders and down his neck.
“Whoa! That is cold.”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. Hey, I feel it loosening up already.”
“Yah, it should. If you jumped in the sea, it would loosen up completely, and you’d feel free and comfortable, well, except for freezing to death.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but you’d be overcome with the cold.”
“I don’t think I would be right now, actually. Why don’t we try it, now that I’ve gone to all the trouble to get the darn thing on? I can put the harness over it, and go out on the rope, and then come right back in. And if I have any trouble, you can simply pull me over with the rope.”
I remembered the day I fell into the sea, and was about to say no when I looked into his eyes, saw his frustration and passion, and thought it over. If I were as hot as he was right now, I’d want to jump into the sea, too. And it was true that I could pull him back to the sub if he couldn’t make it himself. It seemed an unnecessary risk really, and yet, on the other hand, it was one of his life’s dreams. How could I deny him that?
“Yah, okay.”
“Really? You agree?”
“Sure. Why not? Believe me though, you’re in for a shock.”
“I don’t mind. That’s awesome. Thanks, Captain.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.”
And so, Merwin went swimming with the whales after all. I helped him up the ladder, out of the portal, and down onto the hull. The wet suit was so tight he could barely move his arms and legs. I wore my parka because the wind was strong and cold. I suggested he lower himself a little at a time, but he had no patience left, and said he’d rather deal with the shock all at once. I held onto the rope and kept it away from the propeller as he half-jumped half-fell into the water. He hollered and thrashed around for a while, as the water pulled him to the end of a seventy-five-foot rope, and then dragged him behind the sub like a rubber dinghy. He knew that the more he thrashed about, the sooner his body’s heat would warm up the suit. It wouldn’t actually make him comfortable, but might take the sting out of the cold for a few minutes. We had agreed that when he was ready to come back inside, he would raise his arm into the air, and I would pull him in. If he didn’t raise it after ten minutes, I would begin pulling on the rope anyway. In truth, I expected to see his arm go up long before ten minutes were up.
But it didn’t.
The whales were curious to see Merwin splashing about in the water behind the sub, and swam closer. They looked closely at his face, to check and see if he was the same man who had sung to them. When they saw that he was, they slapped their tails on the water. The mother did it first, and then the baby. They recognized him.
For ten full minutes Merwin dangled at the end of the rope like a fishing bobber. He wasn’t actually swimming; he was more like slowly water-skiing on his belly. We didn’t shut off the engine because we didn’t want to fall behind the tanker. But we did slow down a little, so our wake wouldn’t be so turbulent. I watched as Merwin ducked his head beneath the waves several times, trying to see the whales under water. He also tried to manoeuvre closer to the mother, but the force of the water was too strong. He was having a good time though. I could hear him yelling with excitement. I carried out my camera and took pictures.
At ten minutes exactly, I started reeling him in. He waved frantically for me to stop, but I wouldn’t. I knew what the danger was. He was so passionate and stubborn he didn’t care about the dangers of hypothermia, and was willing to risk everything just to swim with the whales. It took almost five minutes to pull him to the boat and help him out of the water. He had more freedom of movement now that the suit was soaked through, but was exhausted, more exhausted than I had realized when he went in the water. He had used up so much energy just getting into the suit.
It was hard work getting him up the portal and down the ladder. But he was very happy. He kept saying, “What a thrill!” but was almost delirious with cold and fatigue. Once we were inside, it wasn’t necessary to cut the wet suit. It peeled off him like a banana skin. But once he was free, I discovered that he was shivering badly. His lips were trembling.
“I’ll make you some hot chocolate,” I said. “That’ll warm you up.”
“Thank you, Alfred. I mean, thank you, Captain. That would be amazing.”
I helped him to his sleeping bag, then put the
last of our fresh milk into a pot and started to heat it up. There was nothing as wonderful as hot chocolate in cold seas. But when I brought the cup over to him, I found him fast asleep already, and he would sleep for the next twelve hours straight. So I drank the hot chocolate myself.
I was tired, too, but had to stay awake to follow the tanker. Having stopped once, she might again, and I couldn’t risk striking her hull at full speed. So, I spent a few hours riding the bike, playing with Hollie, and reading. I started the book by Thoreau again, but this time was able to pay attention, and discovered that what Margaret had said was true: Thoreau and I thought a lot alike. I mean, I agreed with everything he wrote. I couldn’t believe he was writing from a hundred and fifty years ago, because it seemed like what he was saying was true today, even though it sounded old-fashioned. Walden quickly became my favourite book
Twelve hours after Merwin went to sleep, I brought him a cup of coffee and woke him up. He was groggy and dizzy but it was time to trade off again. He would be on watch, and I would get some sleep. He was beginning to see how being at sea, even in the comfort of a submarine, could be very tiring. In truth, I found it easier to be alone. I was getting only half as much sleep as I was used to. But in spite of that, and in spite of being cramped, I realized I was starting to like having him around. I was getting used to him, and learning something important. I couldn’t put it into words yet exactly, but I knew it had something to do with saving the planet.
Chapter Twenty-five
ONCE AGAIN, I WAS woken by a tug at my shoulder.
“Sorry to wake you, Captain, but there are a couple of lights flashing on the radar screen that weren’t there before, and they look like they’re coming this way.”
