Chapter 4

As Kurt took a seat, Joe eased the throttle forward and turned the cabin cruiser away from the beach. The tugboat was making slow but steady progress toward the open waters of the bay. So far the whale wasn’t fighting them, seeming content to be back in the ocean.

Beach time was hard on whales. Their bodies had evolved to use the support of the water’s buoyancy. Stranded on land, they were slowly crushed by their own weight. Breathing became difficult; internal organs were compressed. Without the cool liquid around them, they overheated internally, dehydrated rapidly, and ended up with sunburn.

A blast of spray from the whale’s blowhole suggested it was refilling its lungs and reoxygenating its body.

“How far out do you want to tow him?” Joe asked.

“I was told the whale’s pronouns are she/her,” Kurt said. “And let’s go out for at least a full mile. It’s a female’s prerogative to change her mind, and I don’t want this one swimming right back to the shore.”

Joe called the tug on the radio and suggested they veer to the south, where the current would assist them. The turn was slow and smooth, but the whale seemed to sense the change. It began swinging its great rectangular head from side to side.

“Ah, this is exciting,” the man said, pouring more champagne. “Hopefully it won’t ram us like Moby Dick.”

“Hopefully not,” Kurt said. He turned back to Joe. “You couldn’t find a sober couple to barter with?”

Joe rolled his eyes, as if the question were ridiculous. “I was asking a stranger to let me use their boat while admitting there was a real possibility of it getting smashed by a fifty-ton whale. You try closing that deal without alcohol.”

Kurt laughed. “You got me there.”

Joe moved the boat in a little closer. The whale was now swinging her head from side to side. Lifting it up and smacking it down. Water flowing in and out of her mouth swirled white and red with foam and blood. More blood was coming from the tail, where the rope was digging into the whale’s skin, but it was nothing that wouldn’t heal.

With the whale getting agitated and dusk falling over the sea, Kurt knew they had run out of time. Freeing the whale would be dangerous enough without trying to do it in the dark.

“Radio the tugboat captain,” he said. “Tell him to shut down, drift with the current, and let out the line. It’s time to set this lady free.”

Joe made the call as Kurt moved to the stern of the boat and grabbed a boat hook, testing its weight and length. If things went as planned, all he would have to do is hook the line and pull the loop wider and wider, which would allow the whale to swim out of the rope’s grasp.

Across from them, the tugboat went to idle, and the line slackened. Thankfully the whale didn’t react.

“Get in closer,” Kurt said.

Joe maneuvered to a spot near the muscles that powered the tail.

“A little closer,” Kurt said.

Joe nudged the throttle and then cut it again while spinning the wheel opposite. With the burst of momentum and the rudder hard over, the bow turned away as the stern swung even nearer to the animal.

Kurt reached out with the boat hook and snagged the rope. Pulling it slowly, he enlarged the loop. The whale raised her tail as if to help, but then brought it down slowly, a lazy flap that did little more than swirl the water and push the cabin cruiser away.

Joe reversed back toward the animal and Kurt pulled on the rope again. “Ahead, slow.”

Joe nudged the throttle up and the cabin cruiser began to pull away from the big animal. The loop grew larger than the tail, but the whale refused to swim out of it.

“She’s still getting her strength back,” Joe said.

“Circle around behind her,” Kurt suggested. “We pull the rope off, and she can get underway when she’s ready.”

Joe guided the boat around the slowly flapping tail with caution. They were directly astern of the animal when disaster struck as a gray torpedo-shaped object raced under the boat and tried to take a bite out of the bleeding flukes.

“Shark!” Joe shouted.

Now they show up .

In some ways it wasn’t a surprise. Sea life in distress called to sharks like the mythical sirens; blood in the water sent them into a frenzy. Both things were present in abundance at the moment.

The whale reacted instinctively. Swinging its tail violently to the side and then up and down. The rope pulled tight, and the boat hook was yanked from Kurt’s hands. He lunged for it, but it vanished into the depths as the whale’s flukes smashed against the surface, creating an explosion of water and a thundering sound.

Two more sharks rushed in, but they turned away before attempting a bite.

Then another shark raced in and took a chunk out of the resting tail. Kurt saw only teeth and then the flash of a white belly as the shark ripped off a semicircle of flesh and then dove deep.

Joe gunned the throttle and turned the boat away as the whale’s flukes smashed downward, hitting the water with the sound of a shotgun blast and sending another surge of water their way.

Kurt grabbed the transom to avoid being thrown in. He squinted, looking for the rope through all the froth and foam. It was still attached.

“Get next to her,” he shouted. “Bump alongside if you have to.”

“You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do?” Joe asked.

“Quickly.”

Joe brought the boat back alongside the struggling creature, bumping the animal’s flank as if it were a wooden dock. Behind him, Kurt leapt over the transom and onto the whale’s back. The owners of the cabin cruiser gawked, as did the men on the tugboat, but in reality, this was the safest spot Kurt could be at the moment. The sharks couldn’t get him, nor could the whale bend its tail far enough to hit him. It might buck him off like a wild bull in a rodeo, but that was about it. Holding on to the outside of the rope and straddling the tail, Kurt searched for the eyelet. If he could just release it, all would be well, but the gloom had become so dark he could barely see.

“Give me some light!” he shouted.

Spotlights at the back of the tug came on. As the light hit the water, the surface erupted with a thousand little splashes. The beams of light were dimmed for a second, as if covered by a cloud, and Kurt was battered by flying objects like a man caught in a cave of angry bats.

The whale bucked violently at the disturbance and Kurt was thrown into the sea. Now he faced twice the danger. A blow from the tail would crush him instantly, while a lethal bite from one of the sharks would be a slower and more painful way to die. He preferred not to go either way.

He bumped against the whale, its rubbery texture both soft and unyielding. It was still again and had obviously yet to regain its full strength. He pushed off the animal, eyes open in the salt water, hoping he would see the blurry outline of the rope before he spotted the terrifying mouth of a large shark.

His hand brushed the rope before he saw it. Grabbing it, he kicked to the surface, where he went to work with the knife, sawing through the bundled fibers. The serrated edge made quick work of the hemp, and in fifteen seconds it had cut clean through.

As the main length dropped away, Kurt pushed the shorter section back toward the whale. It slipped through the eyelet, the loop opened, and the rope dropped away.

Kurt turned and swam for the cabin cruiser, propelled by the unspeakable fear that a shark was closing in on him. He reached the boat and scrambled up the ladder in record time. He collapsed onto the deck, thankful to be out of the water with both legs still attached.

“She’s moving,” Joe shouted.

Kurt got to his feet and looked over the side. The whale had begun to raise and lower its tail more regularly. Instead of a defensive response, it was trying to push with a rhythm. Another blast of spray came from the blowhole as it exhaled and took a new breath. With its lungs filled, the animal dipped its large head and dove, seeming to wave goodbye with a final flap of the tail as it vanished beneath the water.

Joe was grinning from ear to ear. “One down, ten more to go.”

Kurt fell back against the transom, exhausted. He looked at the couple who owned the boat. “I’ll take that drink now.”

The man handed him the bottle. “You’ve earned it.”

As Kurt took a swig from the magnum of champagne, Joe radioed the tugboat, and both vessels turned back toward the shore. By now, lights of all different kinds were aiming down at the beach. The stranded animals and the construction equipment were lit up in the glare, the people milling around them looking so much smaller in comparison.

Kurt and Joe would join them and work all through the night. They would save another dozen animals, helping each dolphin and porpoise to clear the bay.

It was a herculean effort that should have felt like success beyond measure, but, exhausted and sore, they received bad news with the rise of the morning sun. More whales had been spotted on the next beach. And still more on the beach beyond that.

Walking the beach to inspect the new arrivals, Kurt and Joe didn’t find any of the animals they’d freed the night before. But the scene made even less sense than the one they’d found earlier.

Along with the whales, they found sharks, seals, and large-bodied fish, including tuna and striper. A dead bull shark and a thin hammerhead looked as if they’d already been picked over by birds. Though, curiously, there was not a seagull in sight. A rare and endangered leatherback turtle, the size of a large coffee table, had crawled onto the rocks to die, its flippers chewed down to the nubs.

Kurt stared in silence.

Joe shook his head. “Something’s not right here,” he said finally. “This isn’t normal.”

Kurt gazed at the menagerie of animals and the strange wounds covering them. He had no words, but he silently agreed.