“That’s a beautiful fish, Chatter. Did you catch it for me?”
She moved next to Billy and he slowly reached for the fish. Taking it by the tail, he give it a little tug and said, “Really a great-looking fish. Now let it go, and we’ll share…fifty-fifty, okay?”
She wouldn’t release the fish and Billy felt a moment of panic. He stroked Chatter’s head and his touch seemed to relax the dolphin’s jaw. She dropped the fish and it fell into the sea. As his heart skipped a beat, Billy snatched the fish and laid it on the surfboard. He flipped the big blade out of his Swiss Army knife and began to fillet the tuna. “Really a nice fish, Chatter. How’d you know I like sashimi?”
He handed the first strip of the firm, moist flesh to the dolphin. She accepted his offering and it went down her throat. He popped a chunk into his mouth and chewed. “This is awesome. I bet there’s a cup of water in every pound.”
By the time the small tuna was nothing but viscera and bone and the liver, which he couldn’t bring himself to swallow, his stomach was full. He stroked the dolphin, sensing she liked his touch. “Here’s the idea, Chatter. I pet you, you catch fish.”
He gave her the liver and rubbed her head again. “I pet, you bring fish. Got it?”
She shook her head energetically and squeaked at him.
“Does that mean yes, or no, Chatter?”
He stared at the dolphin and thought, If she brings me another one, that means I got through to her. If not, I’d better learn to speak dolphin, and fast.
Feeling refreshed, Billy paddled on until fatigue forced him to rest. He pulled in the fishing line, and the useless lure, and connected the leash to his ankle. As he fastened the Velcro strap he thought, Maybe with Chatter, I have a chance.
T
hree days later Billy held the water bottle high and drained the last few drops into his mouth. The jug was empty, and with it went his confidence that he might survive. His will to live was evaporating as rapidly as his body was drying out, and he tossed the plastic bottle aside. Chatter discovered the buoyant jug, a fascinating plaything, and kept bringing it back to Billy. He’d throw it away, she’d bring it back. They evolved a game, but the water bottle always came back empty. Though the dolphin had brought him two more fish, Billy knew he was suffering from dehydration. He searched the horizon hoping to see a rain-pregnant squall come boiling out of the south to dump rainwater on him. He paddled on thinking, Maybe she wants me to keep the bottle. Maybe she’s teaching me, and I’m not smart enough to understand her.
Late on the fourth day Billy noticed sores on his ankles and hands from their constant immersion in salt water. And the meager intake of fish flesh was certainly adding to his body’s absorption of salt. When he brought his fingers and feet out of the water they hurt painfully. He began to dream of rolling in the snow and stuffing his mouth with the icy-cold white stuff. Then came memories of turning on the water spigot in his parents’ kitchen and sticking his mouth under the faucet to drink his fill of chlorine-contaminated Los Angeles County tap water.
It was a crummy kitchen, but there was always something to eat, even if it was Hamburger Helper. God, I’d like a cold pineapple smoothie. Oh, shut up and keep going.
He paddled into another flaming sunset. With abrupt swiftness night came, and Billy was plunged into darkness. He felt a change in the weather. It was colder. He paddled on, sighting between his compass and the Southern Cross. Then a chill breeze came out of the south and he began to shiver. “All I need to make life perfect is a hurricane, or do they call them cyclones south of the equator?”
He stroked on through the night, occasionally glancing into the darkness to check on the dolphin. She was there, swimming steadily beside him. Chatter was a comfort. He knew he would have freaked out days ago without her at his side.
He tried to sleep on the board, but the breeze was causing it to pitch, and it was impossible to stretch out. Sometime before dawn, despite the chill, Billy’s head sagged and he slept fitfully until he felt Chatter’s beak nudging him.
He opened his eyes and saw a dark squall line on the horizon. At first he thought he was hallucinating. He took a deep breath and pinched an earlobe. He was awake, and the sea-hugging clouds seemed to be moving closer. When a moist wind kicked up whitecaps, he allowed his hopes to soar. “It’s going to rain, but is it going to rain on me?”
As the storm front rolled toward Billy, he stopped paddling, ripped off his wind shirt, and made ready to use the tightly woven cloth to catch the rain. He was glad now that Chatter had forced him to keep the bottle, and if he was careful, he could funnel any water he caught into the narrow top.
The first drops were cooling little caresses that washed away the encrusted salt. Like a sponge, Billy’s parched skin soaked up the moisture. As the downpour grew in intensity he held the nylon cloth out to catch the rain. Then the sky turned black and fresh water fell in torrents. There was no horizon, no sea, no sky. Only the fresh, cold water raining down. The marble-size drops battered him painfully, but their wet sting meant life.
The wind shirt filled in seconds. He pressed his lips into the water and sucked in his fill. When he could drink no more, he tilted the corner of the cloth to the opening of the bottle. Water flowed into the container so quickly it filled in a minute. He screwed the lid back on and looked about for the dolphin. Chatter’s head was out of the water and she floated with her mouth open catching the raindrops. He called to her over the spattering noise, “Thanks for bringing the bottle back. Did you know it was going to rain?”
The squall raced on and moments later the sun beat down so hot that the droplets on his board steamed as they evaporated. As he paddled on, he talked with the dolphin, trying to teach her his name, and the name he had given her. She responded when he called, “Chatter.” Or was she reacting to the sound of his voice rather than the name? He knew that when he slept she stayed close to him. When his touch was soothing and given with love, the dolphin would nudge him back. Billy realized there was some sort of strange empathetic communication evolving between them and he thought, We’re together twenty-four hours every day. If we didn’t pick up clues about each other, we’d be nothing but driftwood.
The constant paddling was draining his strength. He could no longer take a hundred strokes between rest breaks. It was down to twenty, and it took him ten minutes to recover from the effort. He glanced at Chatter and said, “I’m going to need some help, and you’re going to learn a new trick. It’s called tugboat. You’re the tug and I’m the boat.”
Billy’s eyes flicked from the leash fastened to his ankle to the other end, which was attached to a loop of nylon cord tied to a fastener embedded in the fiberglass and foam at the stern of his surfboard. He realized that if Chatter could be taught to tow him, he had to fasten the surf leash to the bow. He could solve that problem, but it would mean boring a hole through the fiberglass at the nose of the board and then threading a nylon fishing line through the opening. The opening would allow water to seep into the foam core, which would ultimately rot the surfboard.
But, what the hell? It’s my life. Becker can always shape me another board.
With the awl of his Swiss Army knife he drilled a narrow hole through the board’s nose, inserted the line, tied a loop, and then attached the Velcro end of the surf leash. “If we’re gentle with this it should hold. Okay, Chatter. Let’s play tugboat.”
He freed the surf leash from his ankle and flicked the looped end at Chatter. She was immediately interested in the new game and flipped the leash back at him.
As she came close, he again dropped the loop over her beak and made soothing, happy sounds. She cast it aside easily, but came back again and again to have Billy drop it over her beak. She couldn’t get the idea of towing him. He fought down his frustration and asked himself, If I was Chatter, how would I be seeing all this? Seeing? Maybe that’s it. I’ll play the tugboat and she’ll see what I want her to do.
He grabbed the loop and slid off the board. Taking the Velcro strap in his teeth, he began to swim. Billy noticed that the dolphin was showing interest. She moved closer to inspect this strange change in his behavior pattern.
He kicked on and muttered, “Tow…tow…tow…” again and again. After twenty repetitions, and a hundred yards more, he slowed to rest and reached to pet her. She hovered beside him, click-ticking, as if wanting to know more. Moving slowly, Billy took the leash from his mouth and slid the loop over Chatter’s beak, all the while stroking her with his other hand. He could see she was about to cast it off and hurried to say the command: “Tow, Chatter. Tow!”
With an energetic beat of her powerful fluke, the dolphin surged ahead dragging the surfboard out of Billy’s reach. He held back his scream of fear and spoke calmly, “That’s great, Chatter. Bring it back, please.”
She stopped some distance across the water and stared at him. Was she being mischievous, or did her behavior suggest a deeper meaning? Billy sensed that Chatter knew she held his life around her beak. He floated and watched her, waiting for the dolphin to make a decision. Billy sensed that yelling at Chatter would only drive her off. He tried to communicate the way he thought she might understand—by projecting his inner feelings to the dolphin. “Chatter, we’re friends, and I need your help. Please tow the surfboard back to me. Come on, Chatter. I know you can understand what I’m sending out to you. Please bring the surfboard back.”
With agonizing slowness the dolphin returned to him. He hugged her and climbed back on top of the surfboard thinking, Here’s the test. I hope to God you understand, Chatter.
Aloud, Billy said with more confidence than he felt, “Okay, Chatter. Tow! Tow Billy!”
She turned to look at him and shook her head. The loop almost came off her beak and Billy thought, I’m being condescending, and she senses that.
He looked at her directly—one mammal in need of another. “Chatter. I’m wiped out. I need you to tow me. Now, please. Let’s get going. Tow.”
Her head went down, and with a strong beat of her fluke, the dolphin swam off so rapidly that Billy had to grasp the surfboard to keep from sliding off. As they sped across the water he realized that the dolphin was heading in the approximate direction of Samoa.
How in the hell did she know which way I wanted to go?
The young man and the dolphin continued southwestward—Billy paddling when his strength permitted, and Chatter towing him more and more frequently. Sunburn now reddened every inch of Billy’s exposed skin. Blisters erupted on the back of his legs. No rain had fallen to replenish the empty water jug, and Billy was becoming dangerously dehydrated.
At noon on the seventh day, he gave up attempting to paddle and collapsed on the surfboard. He was close to giving up and allowing the sea to take him.
Just to drift into some long sleep where there’s lots of water and a little shade now and then.
The dolphin looked at Billy and sensed his state of resignation. She knew that her kind often met death with a resigned stillness. That was normal, but he was not of her kind, and she swam to nudge him with her beak. She poked his side, but this time Billy did not move. She pushed against him even harder. He rolled off the surfboard into the water and came alive. She saw the surprise on his face and was glad. Chatter splashed him with her fluke and turned to push him back onto the surfboard. She thrust her beak through the leash loop and began towing him once more. He lifted his head and saw far-off clouds. They were white puffy ones that form over land. And not too far forward of the clouds, flocks of seabirds skittered over the surface diving for bait fish. Far off, the faint outline of a high gray-green island showed in the distance. “Look at that, Chatter! That’s land! There’s water there! And food, and shade, and everything! We did it! Just one more day!”
The dolphin heard his excited sounds and they gave her a warm glow of pleasure.
With renewed energy, Billy slipped the leash off her beak and began paddling slowly for the faraway island. At sundown he collapsed from exhaustion. Chatter swam to him and nuzzled his neck. He made sounds and rubbed her head. She liked his touch and understood he wanted to go to the island. She slipped her beak through the noose and swam on. Echolocating ahead, she detected the reef fronting the beach and the schools of fish swimming amid the coral. She was hungry, but that want would soon be satisfied.
He awoke to the sound of waves breaking and he opened his eyes to stare at the island. A hundred yards off he saw a long curving beach with several outrigger canoes sitting on the sand. Behind the shore was a small village of thatched palapas sitting under coconut palms. Still farther back, forested mountains thrust into the sky.
He stroked Chatter and said, “You must have towed me all night.”
Billy began paddling slowly for the beach. Where the gentle swells turned into waves, he stopped to look at the village. People were staring in his direction. As he hesitated, unsure of what to do next, Chatter rubbed her beak against his leg. He looked down at the dolphin and knew she couldn’t be with him anymore. He touched her lightly and said sadly, “I gotta go now, Chatter…to be with my kind.”
He slid into the water and put his arms around the dolphin. Holding back tears, he climbed back on the board and murmured to her, “God, how I love you. Have a good life, Chatter.”
He looked back, saw a small wave building, and paddled to catch it. As weak as he was, Billy couldn’t resist a ride. He slid down the face of the little breaker and came slowly to his feet. He glanced back, looking for Chatter. All he saw was the dazzle of sea and sun that had punished him so mercilessly. The world spun. Little bright stars filled his mind, and he fell.
C
oconut oil rubbed gently into his sunburns, daily bathing in fresh water, and a diet rich in greens, fresh fish, and ripe fruit helped Billy to recover quickly. Even so, it was two days before he realized he was lying in a hammock under the shade of a palm frond hut. He opened his eyes to take in a small village facing a sparkling lagoon. Next he saw several children and an old white-haired man staring at him. The memory of his long, arduous paddle came back with a rush, and Billy asked, “How long have I been here?”
Children giggled and the old man said with a slight English accent, “Two days, young man. We’re very glad, indeed, to see you looking so chipper. Now, rest. Later, tell us where you came from and we can sort out what to do with you.”
“Where am I now?”
“Totua Island, Samoa, a day’s sail east of Pago Pago.” The old man smiled and added, “And a world away from earthly cares, dear fellow.”
“You’re English?”
“Let us say I’ve had a British education. Now rest.”
As Billy recovered, he watched the fishermen launch their pangas at dawn and return each noon with the catch. On the third day, Billy felt strong enough to walk to the shore and help them carry fish up to the communal trough where they were cleaned and divided among the villagers. His blistered skin was healing quickly, and he looked forward to paying his keep by going fishing with the men. As he struggled across the hot sand he stared beyond the gentle, spilling waves. The blueness stretched to eternity. After a long moment he turned from the water and realized he had been searching for Chatter. He hoped she had found a pod to join.
At the end of his first week on the island he pulled the small sketch pad out of his frayed, salt-encrusted getaway bag and he began drawing pictures of a dolphin. The island children encouraged him with laughs and shouts of delight. He found himself making fast outlines of Chatter leaping out of the water and realized he was thinking about her all the time. One of the little kids jabbed a finger on the drawing and then pointed toward the lagoon. Then they shouted in their singsong English, “Billy! Billy! Da same kind in the water. Come quick!”
The excited children pulled Billy to his feet and led him to the beach. He looked over their heads toward the lagoon and his heart pounded. It couldn’t be Chatter. She was gone. It must be another dolphin. They gestured out beyond the little waves and he saw a dorsal fin slicing through the calm water. He whistled and called her name, as he had done so many times. He held his breath. Suddenly the dolphin surged out of the sea, her head turning in the direction of his voice. Billy ran for the lagoon shouting, “Chatter!”
He sprinted through the shallows, with the children racing behind. In chest-deep water she leaped again and swam for him. Then she was nuzzling against him, quivering with that wonderful life force that had helped Billy survive his long ordeal. He grabbed her fin and she began towing him toward shore. When they were among the excited children he let Chatter go and she swam among them. They shrieked in fear and ran for the beach. He called Chatter to him and began stroking her. The children stopped and watched the young man playing with the dolphin. He waved them closer and they cautiously eased up to her. Within minutes, Chatter’s affectionate response to the children eased their fears. With Billy helping them, they soon were taking turns being towed about the shallows.
In the late afternoon, when the ocean breeze stilled and the sun’s glare softened, Billy sat beside the water drawing quick sketches of Chatter, who floated only feet away. She seemed to like posing, or she was happy being with him again. After the paper was crowded with her likeness, Billy stood and waded out to show the dolphin his drawings. Chatter cocked her head and whistled approval. Billy thought with astonishment, She recognizes her image. I wonder if…?
He began another drawing, a fast outline of
Lucky Dragon
. He placed the sketch before Chatter. Watching for her reaction he asked, “How do you like this one?”
The dolphin whistled her distress call. With a tremendous leap, she turned to race for deeper water. She dove and then surfaced to wag her head rapidly, expressing alarm. Billy called her back and she slowly approached him.
She recognized
Lucky Dragon
’s shape
.
That means she comprehends symbols, and we can understand each other by drawings. Could we really learn to communicate that way?
As Chatter swam closer, he held up the drawing of the tuna clipper. Though still agitated, Chatter didn’t flee. Instead, she lunged at the paper, ripping the sketch out of Billy’s hands. With her beak, Chatter shoved the drawing of the clipper underwater, battering it back and forth until the sodden paper was shredded and drifted apart. He was dumbfounded and thought, You reminded me of a promise I’m going to keep. He bent down, put his face against Chatter’s, and whispered to her, “Want to help me find
Lucky Dragon
and get that guy?”
Billy explained his vow to the white-haired elder, who said, “You have taken on a quest as difficult as the search for the Holy Grail. Where is it you want to go first?”
“Suva, Fiji, where I signed aboard. From there, I’m not sure how to get to Costa Rica, but I will.”
“And your friend from the sea?”
Billy shook his head as if unable to plan that far ahead.
The elder explained, “Suva is easy. There’s the mail schooner, but after that you must use your wits. And I tell you one thing, young man: not everything is as it seems.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Two weeks later, the interisland schooner eased against the Suva docks, and Billy looked about the harbor. The little Westsail that he had admired was still anchored off the seawall in front of the bench, where he had painted the sturdy sloop. And the For Sale notice still showed in the cabin window.
As the schooner brushed against the dock, Billy made sure Chatter was alongside. He called to her, and she poked her head up and whistled at him. He was amazed at her loyalty and endurance. She had cruised beside the mail schooner all the long sail to Fiji and seemed as energetic and curious as always.
He jumped off the boat and walked along the harbor wall with Chatter swimming after him. He wasn’t worried about her. She often vanished for hours, only to return and take up her position forward of the schooner’s bow, often surfing its wake. Billy called to the dolphin, “Hey, Chatter. If you get hungry, don’t wait for me. I’m heading into the town for a real restaurant.”
Billy walked on, following the seawall and froze in his tracks. Fifty yards ahead floated a small ship he had seen before. He remembered the twin dolphin logo on her bow and the Zodiacs lashed to the stern. It was the same vessel he had stared at from
Lucky Dragon
’s helicopter.
He broke into a fast walk. When he was alongside the gangplank, he looked up to the bridge. The young woman he had admired through the magnification of Arnold’s binoculars was standing by the railing cleaning the lens of a video camera. She was even more lovely at close range and filled her T-shirt and tight shorts with graceful, muscled curves. Billy had been right. She was amazing, and he felt something more than physical. He continued to watch her until she sensed his interest and turned to glance down at him. Their eyes met and held for a long moment. She smiled faintly and asked, “Do I know you?”
Taking the initiative, Billy grinned at her and started up the gangplank. “We’ve seen each other before, and I’ll bet you dinner tonight you can’t guess where.”
Billy won the bet. Dinner was at sunset, on
Salvador
’s aft deck. Billy, Sarah, Captain Seeger, and a few of the crew sat around a hatch-cover table under an early rising moon. When Benny Seeger learned that Billy had sailed aboard
Lucky Dragon
, he insisted the young man recount his ordeal.
Billy was finishing the story of his misadventures and sensed Captain Seeger’s disbelief. He could see that Sarah was fascinated by his tale, and there was no doubt she accepted the truth of his words. Several of the other young crew members were nodding, but all were waiting for the captain’s verdict.
Billy went on, “…so when I get my act together, and a boat, Chatter and I are going after him. I don’t know exactly how we’re going to pull it off, but we’re going to stop what he’s been doing!”
Sarah frowned, showing doubt for the first time. With a tone that suggested that Billy might be brain-damaged, she said, “You and that dolphin? You’re dreaming.”
He shrugged and grinned innocently. The captain leaned forward and spoke to her. “Don’t you understand, Sarah? He knows how Gandara operates, where he fishes, and he’s the only witness we have to his activities.”
She faced Billy and asked, “About that cannery buyer, could you identify him again, and the company name?”
“Sure. The guy was some yuppie wimp. And it’s Universal Brands. Their tuna’s in all the supermarkets. You know, Sea Fresh Tuna. And you gotta remember their stupid commercial with Tommy the dancing tuna….”
He began singing the melody to the old jingle. “
Sea Fresh Tuna hits the spot. A lot of food value in the can we got. In salads and sandwiches you’re going to love Sea Fresh!
”
Sarah appeared uneasy and spoke to Benny, bringing the conversation back to business. “We might have a case a judge would listen to, if we can prove Universal Brands is in violation of the Marine Mammal Protection Act.”
“And it would be three years before a trial. And if we won, they’d only pay a slap-on-the-wrist fine. How many more dolphins are going to die between now and then? We’ve got to change our plan.”
Seeger stared at the younger man as if making a decision about him and said, “I buy that you were aboard
Lucky Dragon
, but really, as much as I find dolphins incredible, it’s hard to believe that you and…”
Billy stood and looked down at Seeger as if accepting his challenge. Without a word, he left the table and walked quickly to the stern. He gazed across the shimmering water as the others moved to join him at the railing. He thought, You’d better be there.
He put his thumb and index finger between his lips and whistled loudly, then called into the night, “Chatter!”
He held his breath. Nothing. Where was she? From across the harbor came her answering click-ticking. Moments later, Chatter surfaced beside the ship and leaped out of the water. She surged upward as high as the railing. Before she fell back the dolphin seemed to hover and stare at them.
Billy felt his love go out to her. Sarah gave Billy a surprised look and said, “I’ve read about dolphins becoming attached to people, but in all the scientific literature—”
“Forget science. She saved my life.”
Benny put an arm around Billy’s shoulder and led him back to the table. Billy had a feeling he was being courted, but he let the captain do the talking. “You’re going to need a place to bunk and eat. So how about moving aboard? And think about joining the crew.”
He noticed that Sarah gave the captain a frown as if she didn’t approve of the invitation. Seeger ignored her and prompted, “How about it, Billy? We have the same goals. Sail with us.”
Billy took a bite of grilled steak. “You eat well on
Salvador
.”
“This is dining. At sea, we eat and chase pirate tuna clippers. What do you say?”
He turned his attention to Sarah. He felt a romantic hunger rising and saw that she sensed his interest. She turned her eyes away, and Billy shifted his attention back to Seeger. “It’s a tempting offer, but there’s Chatter. At
Salvador
’s speed, she couldn’t keep up all the way to Central America.”
Getting back to business, Sarah asked, “How often does Gandara put into port to unload?”
“I couldn’t say. He sold his catch once while I was aboard, to that American cannery in Samoa.”
“So how would you get close to him?” asked the captain.
“In a small sailboat that Chatter could follow. Like that Westsail sloop anchored behind us. He wouldn’t suspect that. With any luck I could get photos or video of him killing dolphins.”
“You may be right. Every time we get close, he sends up his chopper and hauls ass.”
Benny rushed on as if he were an admiral planning a sea battle. “So you find him with his net out, shoot videotape, and we’d be right over the horizon waiting for you to radio us.”
“Then what?”
“When he’s stopped dead in the water, we charge in and ram him!”
“Hey, I’m not in this to kill anyone. And besides, he’d recognize me.”
“We’ll disguise you. Grow a beard. Hell, he thinks you’re dead.”
Sarah leaned forward and said, “He could be fishing anywhere from Peru to Mexico. How would you find him?”
“Chatter could,” Billy said with confidence.
Seeger lifted a hand to signal that he had heard enough and was about to make a decision. Offering a carrot of temptation, the captain asked, “Do you think that little sloop would do the job?”
Billy turned to look longingly at the moon-silvered outline of the Westsail.
They stood on the seawall inspecting the boat. The beamy, canoe-ended sloop showed the ravages of weathering, but to Billy’s eyes she was a beautiful, seaworthy little vessel, and the floating embodiment of his dream. He turned to Benny and Sarah and said happily, “The Westsail’s a class boat. I’ll bet there are a couple hundred of them sailing around the world right now. They’re proven blue-water cruisers, and that one’s set up to sail single-handed.”
Sarah regarded this intense young man who had so unexpectedly entered her life. He was bringing forth emotions in her she didn’t want to feel. Still, she liked his boyish, enthusiastic grin. “Billy, it’s so small—”
“Oh, hell, Sarah. Don’t be a worrywart,” Benny muttered. “That’s the size boat we want. The elephant and the mouse. David and Goliath, remember? What do you think, Billy?”
“She’ll do if the rigging and hull are sound,” he said, trying to project a confidence he didn’t really feel. He had sailed a lot off Southern California, but always within sight of land. The thought of an open ocean, of deep-water passages from Fiji to Central America, seemed beyond him. He glanced at the water where Chatter cruised back and forth and asked himself if he would be leading her on some fool’s crusade.