Far From The Sea We Know (8 page)

One of the crew approached them in an
inflatable dingy, the usual Zodiac. With an oversized outboard
clamped to the stern, the dingy came up fast and swept by, then
circled to come up alongside the launch.

“Matthew Amati and Penny, right? I’m Dirk.
Welcome. Ah, captain, if you can just dock at the dive
platform…”

The old man politely obeyed this statement
of the obvious. In minutes they were there. The crewmember that
hauled up their gear insisted on taking the time to use the power
winch. Penny began to protest, but then shrugged her shoulders and
clambered up the ladder.

Matthew immediately followed, but once on
deck trailed behind her at a distance. She headed to the foredeck,
where she ran up to the Captain and gave him a bear hug. Thorssen
eventually acknowledged Matthew by taking a few steps his way, with
his hand held out. “Welcome aboard, Mister Amati.”

The skipper of the
Valentina
was in
his late fifties, with a blonde beard turning to gray. He was tall
and heavy, yet he carried his weight well. His firm handshake was
reassuring rather than intimidating, and his eyes, though ice blue,
seemed to have a low-banked fire behind them.

“Great to see you again, Penny,” Thorssen
said, and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “Have a look.” He
handed her his binoculars.

Matthew attempted to ignore the irritation
that lingered from his fight with Penny by scanning for the whales,
eyes unaided. He saw them a few degrees off the starboard bow,
about five hundred meters away. The light from the afternoon sun
made him squint. At this distance it was hard to make out details,
but he could see enough.

“Your turn, Matthew,” Penny said, her mouth
close to his ear. She was smiling and offered him Thorssen’s
binoculars.

“Thanks. Penny, I—”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s drop it.”

He took the binoculars. She walked to the
tip of the bow and leaned out into the wind. Though her body was
not ample enough to pass for a traditional figurehead, she was
dazzling in the June sunlight.

“Out there,” Thorssen said, pointing toward
the whales.

Matthew brought the binoculars up to his
eyes. They were heavy and old, the black worn off all the high
points, exposing the brass.

“About halfway back from the whales in the
lead,” Thorssen said, “you see that flash of orange? It’s the
transceiver we have on Lefty. From the coordinates you gave, She
must have been in the group you saw from your fishing boat.”

Matthew could see significantly better with
the binoculars and something was strange and yet familiar about the
whales. Oddly, the grays were swimming in a regular pattern, diving
and rising in unison. One of the whales out front was larger and
seemed to be the leader, but its color was completely typical.
Matthew offered the binoculars to Penny, but she shook her head
no.

“They’re cruising at about the typical speed
for gray whales,” Thorssen said. “About five knots. We’ve been
hanging back a ways. Didn’t want to spook them.”

“Is that what you saw?” Penny asked
Matthew.

“I’m not sure. The grouping looks about the
same size. The whale out front seems…normal, but the behavior is
weird. They seem almost synchronized.”

“You didn’t mention that before,” she
said.

“I don’t remember it.”

An orange-tinged light reflected now and
then from the device pinned onto Lefty’s dorsal ridge. Matthew
brought the binoculars down and surveyed the decks. Up on the
fo’c’sle were a man and a woman, peering at an array of video
monitors. In front of them, aimed at the whales, was an oversized
set of binoculars mounted on a tripod. In the place of eyepieces,
two cameras were attached. He recognized the setup as a video
recording system, but a much more elaborate one than anything he
had ever seen.

“Been keeping the whales under constant
watch since last night,” Thorssen said.

Matthew, looking around, said, “I’m
surprised you have the monitoring station out on deck, and the
consoles.”

“Weather’s good and that should hold the
next few days. The kids tend to get mesmerized by equipment,
especially the new stuff. We try to have things running outside
whenever possible. Too much gear, between us and what we’re
observing, it goes bad.”

“Lose the forest for the trees.”

Penny walked up and caught the end of the
Matthew’s sentence. “Not really the best metaphor out here.”

Thorssen smiled and pointed to the set up.
“They’re designed to run remotely, but it’s still easier from the
deck. The labs are always crowded. We move the gear inside fast
when conditions demand.”

He looked up at the sky as if divining the
weather and added, “I’m not against new gear as long as it stays at
the end of your hand. Last night we relied mainly on the tag for
tracking. Would’ve been hard otherwise.”

“How accurate is the satellite tag?” Penny
asked Thorssen as she watched the whales.

“Within a meter or two, since it was
upgraded. Does what it’s supposed to do, even synched-up Lefty’s
signal with our satellite navigation. Tried some light-enhancing
gear last night, too, but that didn’t tell us much. The infrared
would have been better, but it has a glitch. Malcolm and Emory are
tinkering with it, so maybe later.”

Thorssen produced a small black notebook
from his breast pocket of his slicker and thumbed through the
pages. He looked at Matthew. “Got the basic story from Martin,
would like to hear it directly from you. There’s more going on than
just the peculiar way they’re all moving together.”

“What?” Penny asked. “Something since you
got here?” She was giving Thorssen that friendly, yet piercing,
look Matthew had already come to regard as his alone.

Thorssen took off his hat and ran his
fingers through his hair. “Come on. Show you something.”

He headed to a nearby entry and Matthew took
another quick look at the whales before following Thorssen and
Penny through the hatchway.

Below decks, the
Valentina
showed
wear and tear, with paint worn through to metal in places like
railing ends, but the impression was of a ship being cared for in
all the details that really mattered. It was as safe as any place
was going to feel, out here. They entered a cabin full of benches
and equipment.

“C-lab, our largest work area,” Thorssen
said. He walked to a desk and opened a drawer.

“Take a look.” He handed some photos to
Penny and Matthew. “Got these with the telephoto this morning. Ship
was a little closer then. Our leader and five other whales. Notice
anything?”

“The whale’s hide,” Penny said with some
hesitation. “It looks a little different on the leader.”

“Yes. Was even more pronounced in person.
Seems to be gone now, though. And what else?”

Penny handed the photos to Matthew. The
texture, or pattern of mottling, of the lead whale’s skin were
slightly different. Wait. “The barnacles look somehow off,” he
said.

Penny took one of the photos back and
smiled. “These yellowish encrustations on the other whales?”

“Yes,” Thorssen said. “Barnacles are so much
a part of grays, might as well been born with them. Add the sea
lice and they’re like reefs that swim. This one has the patterns,
but no barnacles. Maybe just a few small ones.”

“You sure?” Penny asked. “I can’t be sure
from this.”

“Got a closer view this morning.”

“I thought you had been hanging back?”

“We were, but the lead whale didn’t.”

Thorssen turned and took a few steps toward
a porthole, clearing his throat. “This morning, we were a little
closer than now. Just breaking dawn, and wanted a good look. I’m at
the helm alone. Video crew is below, setting some connections. Just
me up here, and I’m looking out with binoculars, moving in closer.
All at once, here’s the leader suddenly just thirty meters in front
off starboard. Must have gone under and come back toward us. Stops
dead in the water and turns toward me. I bring our speed down to
idle, the other whales just wait. The leader is bolt upright in the
water, like a channel buoy, as we drift by her. Seen them
spy-hopping a thousand times, but it wasn’t that. The attention
was…deliberate. Directed toward me. Sure of it.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and
continued.

“She’s facing me, half out of the water, not
moving. Lasted about a minute, seemed like forever. She’s
completely still. I’m feeling odd. Knees go weak. Can barely
stand.”

Thorssen’s breathing had picked up while he
was telling this, but now it became strangely calm. After a pause,
he went on.

“That’s never happened to me. Not like this.
Seen some terrible things in my day, had to do some terrible
things.” He looked at Matthew. “Don’t understand it, but I’m
inclined to take your account more seriously than I did
yesterday.”

He thrust his hands deep in his slicker
pockets. “Happened after I spoke with you last night, of course.
Didn’t seem possible to explain on the sat-phone this morning, and
you were already on the way. I was the only one who saw all this.
Lot of late sleepers this morning, not sure why. Crew’s a little
antsy lately, a little keyed up, since we’ve been tracking the
whales.”

“You?” Penny asked.

Thorssen’s smile faded for a moment to
reveal a glimmer of sadness floating under the surface.

“I’m okay, but we’re in some deep water out
here, and it’ll only get deeper. My opinion.” He smiled finally.
“Not out to scare you.”

Penny only laughed, but Matthew said, “Well,
frankly, it’s a relief.”

“All right,” Thorssen said, looking at
Penny. “Can’t seem to scare you off, so you might as well stow your
gear. Bunk in your father’s cabin.”

She gave Thorssen another hug and said over
her shoulder as she ran off, “I have some things I want to get,
then can we get to work?”

Matthew returned to the main deck cradling a
cup of coffee, as much for the warmth as for sustenance. This first
day of June was a little cool. The sea was still choppy, but had
already come down a notch. The weather forecast called for milder
days with calm seas by tomorrow, which should last at least a
week.

Penny and Thorssen had obviously wanted to
talk by themselves for a while, and they hadn’t protested when he
left them to ‘check on some things.’

He felt glad to be at sea again, glad to be
on board the
Valentina
, and after waiting years for this
moment, looked forward to checking her over stem to stern. But this
was not the time. Instead he brought all his attention to the
whales heading north. They were swimming a little ahead but well
off the port bow. Maybe Thorssen did not want the grays to feel
threatened and was keeping well away and to their inland side. In
any case, from this distance, it was hard to see anything of
significance.

Only a few others were on deck, but that
made sense. The
Valentina
was crewed almost entirely by
students, and many would be below, in the labs or doing the work of
the crew. The policy was unusual, as research ships ordinarily had
professionals do the manual work while the scientists just did
science. It was also controversial. He had heard grumblings from
some graduate students at the Point who felt that having to learn
engine maintenance cut too much into their study time. Others,
however, believe it was one of the best reasons to be part of the
program, as it gave them a total immersion into the whole process
of fieldwork. In any case, it was a policy Bell and Thorssen had
insisted on, and no one was willing to argue the point with two
living legends.

From his fishing days, Matthew had learned
that he couldn’t just find a place on a ship, he had to make his
own place. Although the
Valentina
was a research ship, it
wouldn’t be any different this time. Time to introduce himself.

Two students on the aft deck were assembling
a large holding tank for marine mammals. He recognized one of them
as the operator of the Zodiac that had brought him here, Dirk. The
other was a large man with a heavy beard who somehow still managed
to look more like an overgrown child. They seemed annoyed about
something, maybe how their construction project was going. Another
pair sat stationed behind the array of monitoring controls and
screens on the fo’c’sle. They’d make a better beginning.

As he approached their observation station,
the young man looked up from his console and gave a friendly, if
crisp, welcome.

“I’m Jack. Jack Ripler. And this is
Becka.”

Matthew recognized him from the Point. It
was Ripler who had sat next to him in the cafeteria and let his
opinion known: Matthew Amati had only made it into the best marine
science program in the western hemisphere because of accidentally
being in the right place at a time and the closest at hand.

Ripler still sounded sure of himself, yet
sitting there dressed so fastidiously, he looked more like some
yacht clubbing day-sailor than a research student at the Point.

“Good to meet you, Jack…Becka. I’m Matthew
Amati.”

“We know,” Ripler said smiling.

“I met you before, at the Point.”

“Yes, the ‘Canadian quota,’” Ripler said in
a slightly bored voice. “You’ve held on like a lamprey, so I give
you credit for that.”

Matthew was preparing an answer when Ripler
glanced at the display and suddenly held his hand up saying,
“Excuse me for a moment. I have to adjust the auto-tracking.”

Becka had kept watching her monitor the
whole time, but did finally manage to wave a few fingers in his
direction. Her dark frizzy hair bounced every time she jerked her
head from one readout to another. With her aquiline nose and
intense eyes, she resembled a bird of prey. Her lean, muscular body
told of someone dedicated enough to workout somehow even on a
cramped research ship.