He tried to raise an eyebrow but only managed to look like he had a toothache. We both laughed. That broke the ice, for now.
5
By noon, Harvey, Ted, William, and I were out on deck getting ready to deploy the plankton sonde. The squall that tossed us around earlier had already passed, and waves returned to gentler twelve-foot rollers my stomach could handle. Even so, we were dressed for heavy seas in life jackets over waterproof jumpsuits and boots. The Henry George’s deck wasn’t nearly as high off the water as those on oceanographic vessels we were used to. Besides that, the ship’s bulwark—planking along the side—was short. Both made us vulnerable to icy ocean spray.
William lifted the sonde out of its box and peered at one end. The three-foot-long sausage-shaped device looked like an oversized flashlight. “So, how does this thing work?”
“We’ll drag it behind the ship.” I said. “The sonde shines a specific wavelength of light at seawater flowing through it. When that happens, chlorophyll—the plant pigment we’re measuring—emits a different, longer wavelength. That process is called fluorescence.”
William rotated the sonde and considered the other end. “More fluorescence means higher amounts of phytoplankton?”
“Right. The sonde continuously calculates algal biomass so we’ll have data along the whole transect.”
“Fluorescence is used is all sorts of ways,” Ted added. “Lamps, of course, but also brighteners in laundry.”
“And in forensics—to see things like blood,” Harvey added.
“Enough with the fluorescence lesson, folks,” I said. “Let’s get this baby in the water.”
Harvey hooked the sonde to the electric winch’s stainless steel cable. She signaled Captain Barney and rotated the winch arm so it reached out over the water. The Henry George slowed to trawling speed. Harvey stepped back. I flipped on the winch’s motor, the winch played out cable, and the sonde plunged into the water.
William left to check in with the captain. Silent, Harvey, Ted, and I stared at the winch and sea beyond.
“What is it,” I asked, “four months now since we stood on Intrepid’s deck and watched the winch drop that half-ton buoy on Peter?”
Ted put his hand on my shoulder. “I can hear his screams like it was yesterday.”
I placed my hand on top of Ted’s. “Me, too.”
Bobbing up and down on swells three thousand miles from the Maine coast, we paid wordless respect to our dear friend and colleague who died because he studied climate change.
We checked the sonde cable a couple of times and returned to the cabin to prepare for the next task—collecting microscopic phytoplankton. Individually as intricate as a snowflake and more stunning than a diamond necklace when linked together, these floating plant-like organisms constituted the bottom of the ocean’s food chain. We wanted to see if any species we collected responded to the Haida’s iron enrichment experiment—that is, if any particular type took up the iron and outcompeted the others.
There were more modern ways to collect phytoplankton, but the venerable plankton net was appropriate for our quick trip off the archipelago. The thirty-foot-long net at our feet took up the cabin’s deck space and then some. It looked like a footless nylon stocking for a giant. The “thigh” end was held open by a yard-wide metal ring.
William squatted and fingered the netting. “What’s this for?”
“As the ship pulls the net through the water, microscopic algal cells caught in the mesh will wash down into the collecting bottle,” I said. “Phytoplankton are my thing, so back in Maine I’ll use a microscope to identify the most common species.”
William said, “Cool,” and joined Captain Barney.
Ted rummaged through the gearbox for three safety helmets. I knelt down, used a hose clamp to secure a collecting bottle to the small end, and checked to make sure the connection was tight. On my feet I said to Harvey and Ted, “We’ve got a decision to make. If I tow the net behind the ship, we won’t need the side winch the sonde’s attached to. That way we can leave the sonde in the water and get continuous data. On the other hand, I’ll be working from the stern. We’re used to ships with decks much higher off the water.”
“So if we hit a big mother wave, you could end up in the drink,” Harvey said.
I squinted at the water-splashed cabin windows. “Doesn’t look so bad, but rogue waves can come out of nowhere.”
Harvey glanced outside, bit her lip. “Let’s ask the captain.”
A minute later, Harvey was back. She zipped up her life jacket and grabbed the metal ring. “He says the seas are supposed to be stable for now, and it should be okay if we work fast. Out we go.”
I followed her, collecting bottle in hand. Ted held the cabin door ajar.
As I passed through the opening, I gave him a mischievous grin and jiggled the bottle in my hand. “Why is this end called a codpiece?”
Out on deck, Ted showed a surprising degree of knowledge about the subject. “I’ve seen ancient Greek figurines sporting codpieces, but most of what we know is from Renaissance portraits and the like. Those guys wore tights and the codpiece was padded. You know, to emphasize men’s genitals.” He took the present-day oceanographic version, winked, and cradled the thing in his hands.
I rolled my eyes.
Harvey looked at her half-brother and laughed. “Remember that armored pouch we saw in the Met museum?”
“Ouch,” I said. “Enough anatomical history. Let’s decide who’s doing what.”
We stretched the net out on the deck and held onto the railing as we made our way to the ship’s stern. Harvey scanned the seascape and frowned at gray-green rollers. In the distance, black clouds raced our way. As the Henry George rose up on an unusually large wave, spray soaked us.
Harvey ran a hand down her face, shook off the water, and tightened her hood. “Still want to do this, Mara?”
“Yeah. Let’s get going. Weather will probably only get worse. All we’ve got to do is lower the A-frame, attach the net, and play it out from the stern platform. Ten minutes.”
We each craned our necks to check out the sturdy A-shaped metal framework over our heads. Attached to each side of the ship’s stern and lowered by electronic winches, A-frames tow nets that collect anything from fish to tiny plankton, depending on the net’s mesh size and overall dimensions.
Ted looked over at the A-frame’s winch. “Harvey, if you operate the winch, I can help Mara with the net.”
I nodded at Ted. “Great. Let’s go.”
“Be right back.” Harvey slid her hand along the gunwale, stepped into the cabin to tell Captain Barney what we were up to, and came back with Bart close behind. He must have been bored and wanted to watch the action outside.
She turned toward Bart. “Don’t go near the stern. Stay right here. It’s safer.”
Without a word, Bart leaned back against the cabin door and crossed his arms.
The rolling ship, big clumsy boots, protruding life jackets, and random icy sea spray slowed our progress. Harvey partly lowered the A-frame so we could grab the long cable attached to the frame’s pointed end. We clipped the mouth end of the net to that line.
“Harve,” I called out, “Play her slowly. I’ll walk the net back.”
Harvey gave the signal to Captain Barney. The ship’s engine droned down as she slowed to a crawl—just enough speed to maintain heading.
At a quarter knot, the Henry George felt the waves and rocked hard from side to side.
I held up my gloved hand and called out, “Hold on a sec.”
Feet wide apart for balance, I walked back to the stern railing, grabbed it, turned sideways, and yelled so Ted and Harvey could hear me above the strengthening wind. “This damn rail’s in the way.”
Ted came closer so we didn’t have to shout. “Might be. But that damn rail is between you and the deep blue sea.”
I ran my hand along the metal bar. “‘Course. I’ll have to lift the net over it.”
&n
bsp; Behind me, Ted said, “You’ll be on an exposed stern, so for god’s sake, be careful.”
Harvey shouted, “Good to go?”
I picked my way back, eyed the railing again, and turned toward Harvey. “Yeah, okay. Play out the winch. Really slow.”
The winch hummed, then whined. With a shudder, the net’s metal ring rose up off the deck and inched sternward. Holding the collecting bottle on the other end, I carefully duck-walked with the net as the A-frame stretched farther out behind the ship. Just short of the stern’s edge, I yelled, “Harvey, stop.”
The winch’s drone faded.
I looked over the railing at row after row of waves with swirling white foam. Vertigo kicked in and I nearly fell over. I grabbed the rail and shook my head.
Ted touched my shoulder. “You okay?”
I blew out a breath. “Yeah, thanks.”
Ted stepped back.
“Brace your feet,” I whispered. “Supple in the knees. Look at the bottle, not down at the water.”
I rotated the neck of the bottle one last time to make sure it wasn’t tangled and called out, “Harvey, ready?”
“Ready,” she shouted.
“Okay,” I yelled. “Lettin’ her go!”
Arms extended, I lobbed the bottle. Like a captured bird released from its cage, it sailed into the air and splashed into the sea.
At that very moment, Bart screamed one word that sent terror through anyone anywhere near the ocean.
“Shark!”
I lurched toward his shriek to see the fin. The ship hit a huge wave, rolled to port, and launched me into the air. I careened over the rail.
I seemed to fall in slow motion. Kicking my feet and wind milling my arms, I tried to claw my way through the air up to the ship. On my back, I smacked into water that felt like cement. My neck snapped forward, and I very nearly blacked out.
Frigid water burned my face. Fear shot adrenaline through my body.
I was going to drown. Like my parents. Go under, suck in seawater.
A crashing wave pushed me under. Beneath the surface, I spun in a confusing swirl. I craned my neck backward and winced. Blinking wildly, I squinted, saw dull light above me, kicked my feet, and popped to the surface.
In the trough of what appeared to be a monster wave, all I could see was a wall of green water. Coughing and frantic, I spun around. Did it again. There was no ship—just Haida Gwaii’s fury and me.
I was alone in a wild arctic realm alien to my kind. I turned my body right, left, right, left again. I sucked in air in shallow, quick gasps. The terror was like nothing I’d ever known. I rode the next wave up, tried to gulp air, and gagged on seawater that smashed into my mouth. Icy water slithered into my gloves, boots, and down my neck. The gale howled; the indifferent sea roared.
Frantically spinning in search of the ship, I rode the roller coaster wave down once more. At the top of the next crest, a blessed human voice broke through the gale. Ted’s, behind me. Hands outstretched, I jerked around.
Toward Ted—life, warmth. Love.
The orange thing directly in front of me made no sense.
“Mara, grab the ring. Grab the bloody ring!”
I reached out, seized the life ring, thrust my arm through its hole, and clasped my neoprene-gloved hands together.
The ship’s stern loomed in front of me. A force pulled me to it. Attached to the day-glow ring, feet trailing behind, it felt like my body slid through frigid jelly.
I bumped into the bright blue stern. There, in the shadow of the ship, I was sheltered from the full force of the waves. Finally, I could catch my breath.
Coughing, I tried to see what was above me. Pain shot through my neck. I dropped my head.
“Mara, look at me.”
Wincing, I did.
Ted’s head was two body lengths above me.
“There’s a yellow ladder just to your right,” he yelled. “Reach up for it. Hand on each side of the ladder. I’ll help you.”
My eyes stung like someone had thrown salt in my face. I squeezed them shut and popped them open.
Bobbing up and down with the waves, nothing existed but me and that yellow ladder. My left hand still clung to the life ring. With the right one, I reached up to grab the ladder’s right vertical rope.
A stiff blob at the end of arm, my hand barely opened. I slid back into the water.
“Enough of this shit. Get the hell out of this ice bath.”
I’d drifted, so I pushed against the bow to be square with the ladder. I flexed my right hand, thrust it up, and grabbed that yellow line.
Suddenly, my arm was held tight to the vertical rope. I looked skyward. Ted’s face was even closer now. Both his arms reached down. He’d wrapped one around the ladder’s line and secured my arm tight.
“Good, Mara. The other hand. You can do this.”
I still held onto the savior life ring. I looked at the thing, hesitated, let it go, swung my body against the stern, and grabbed the other side of the ladder.
“Slide your hand up. I can’t reach you.”
Ted held my right arm even harder while I inched the left one up. He grabbed it.
“Good. Good. Hold on. You’re coming up.”
Clinging to that rope ladder, arms extended, I hung like a dead cod on a gaff. The ship’s hull slid past me and, for a moment, I was eye to eye with The Henry George, Victoria, British Columbia. When my shoulders reached deck height, Harvey grabbed the life jacket and hauled me aboard.
6
I rolled off the ladder onto my back.
On her knees beside me, Harvey unsnapped my safety helmet, cradled my neck in one hand, and pulled off the helmet with the other. “Speak to me.”
The frigid water had numbed my face. I scrunched my eyes shut and moved my mouth around before I tried to talk. “Cold, so cold. Thought I’d drown like Mom and Dad.”
Harvey pressed her palms against my cheeks. Her warmth was a salve.
William stood behind her.
Ted yelled over the wind, “William, let’s get Mara inside. Make her warm tea. Get blankets. Got it?”
“Got it!”
Ted and William each held one of my arms, helped me to my feet, and slowly walked me into the cabin.
I coughed. “Ted, thank—”
“Later. Let’s get you warm.”
William went below. Harvey yanked down the cover of the wooden gear-box. I plopped onto it and let her help me out of the jumpsuit. My violent shivering made the job harder.
I expected to be soaking wet, but remarkably little seawater had seeped beneath the jumpsuit. My fleece top and pants were only wet to my ankles and partway up my arms and down my neck.
I held my arms out. “I’m hardly wet at all.”
“You were only in the water for something like three minutes,” Harvey said.
“You’re kidding.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve got Ted to thank for that.”
Ted leaned against the cabin bulwark. He’d taken off his helmet and pushed hair away from his forehead. “How’re you doing?”
“Good. If you hadn’t thrown that life ring so fast, I could’ve drifted away from the ship.” I rubbed my arms and looked at him. “No way I can thank you enough.”
He shrugged. “Lots of drills on research vessels. It just kicked in.”
“Still, what you did was amazing.”
Another shrug. As usual, a bit of wayward blond hair nearly reached one eye. Early in our courtship, I sometimes swept aside the lock of hair and kissed him lightly on the lips. With a pang of guilt, I tried to recall the last time I’d done that.
I pushed the memory away, looked into his navy blue eyes, and smiled. “Owe you a year’s worth of lemon gelatos.”
A private joke. Gelato, Ted’s favorite treat, was hard to come by in Spruce Harbor, Maine. He laughed. Harvey didn’t.
“Um, you guys have to promise to not tell anyone at MOI about this.”
“You mean,�
�� Harvey said, “things like you should’ve seen her fly off the stern on her back, arms spinning like a windmill?” Her tone was a bit too sarcastic for my liking.
Ted snorted.
Heat crept into my cheeks. “Yeah. Things like that. Seymour’d relish any tidbit of information.”
Our obnoxious Biology Department Chair creatively used whatever he could get his hands on against me.
William carried over a steaming mug. I sipped the hot liquid. It tasted a little like licorice. “Thanks. This is different.”
“Herbal tea. An elder on the island, Charlotte, teaches us how to use herbs for tea and medicine. Here’s a blanket and some dry clothes from below.”
The oversized gray wool sweater slipped over my fleece top. It was scratchy, warm, comfy. I slid on wool socks and used the blanket as a shawl. The dry clothes and warm tea were a godsend. I stopped shivering, and my face and feet went from burning cold-hot to pleasantly toasty.
William took Captain Barney’s place at the wheel. The captain limped back, leaned against a window, crossed his arms, and looked down at me. “Mara, nobody has ever gone overboard on this ship, even in a heavy sea. It was a rogue wave, but of course I take responsibility for approving the maneuver. I’m so very sorry this happened.”
The captain took in my borrowed garb. His bushy eyebrows blended as one, and it pained me to witness his distress. “Captain, I appreciate your saying that. But it was my idea to deploy the net off the stern. I’ll be sure to say so in the U.B.C. report.”
With a quick nod, Barney returned to his post.
At ten-minute intervals, Ted and Harvey left me to check on the sonde and plankton net. The vessel moved at trawling speed until they finally hauled both onto the deck.
Captain Barney gave his ship her head and steamed back to the islands. I sat on the map table cross-legged and tried to rub salt water out of my hair with a washcloth. Harvey and Ted leaned against the cabin’s wall opposite me. They’d already explained how William and Harvey each grabbed one of Ted’s legs and pulled him back across the deck while he secured my arms to the ladder.
I dangled my legs to stretch them out. “Harvey, did you see a shark?”
Demon Spirit, Devil Sea Page 5
