The Shark Whisperer (24 page)

Back in the cave, the dolphins reported that just the two divers on Jet Skis were left in the area. But they were staying well away from where the yacht went down due to an unusual aggregation of highly aggressive sharks. Tristan smiled, cheering for his new finned friends. Though he was surprised that neither of Rickerton's men had lost any toes while they were in the water. Tristan thought for sure at least one shark would have taken a few taste testing nibbles.

“Time to split up,” Director Davis said to the group. “Coach Fred and Ms. Sanchez will take the older campers—if you're up to it—and go back to the yacht to ready it for our last little surprise for our friend Mr. Rickerton. The Seasquirts will come with me back to the lab.”

Jade, Rusty, and Rory said they were fine to help Coach and Ms. Sanchez. In fact, they were looking forward to repaying their host in some small way.

“And Coach Fred, I expect you can handle it if you run into those men on Jet Skis?” the director asked.

“Don't worry,” Coach answered. “We'll have plenty of help if they show up. It shouldn't take too long. Though we'd better switch boats. With the damage to the prop, this one isn't going to have the power we need. You should be fine, though you might not have top speed.”

“We're going straight back to the lab so hopefully it won't be a problem.”

Director Davis checked in with Mr. M to see if he'd heard anything that would help. But so far, other
than hearing a helicopter fly by and seeing the boat speeding toward Great Exuma, all was quiet around Lee Stocking Island. They wished each other luck and then with Coach Fred at the helm, the first boat left the cave.

Tristan turned to the director. “Director Davis, how come the sharks and other animals didn't just take care of the yacht by themselves. They could probably do a lot of damage if they wanted to. I mean without us involved.”

The other young campers huddled closer to hear the answer.

“Good question Tristan,” the director replied. “Marine organisms are excellent collaborators and on occasion can be quite aggressive. But most of the time they need leadership and coordination. Plus if they started targeting the wrong people or if word got out about their attacks, they'd undoubtedly be hunted down. Even animals not responsible or involved would be targeted.”

“I get it,” Tristan said. “If all the angry sharks in the Bahamas started biting people or killed even one person, word would get out and people would try to catch and kill all the sharks.”

“Exactly. By working together we can be much more effective and stealthy.
And
we can keep your skills a secret.”

“Yeah, I'm not sure I want anyone to know I'm a slime machine,” Rosina said glumly. Then she punched Tristan hard on the arm, smiling. “Just kidding, now I think it's kinda cool.”

Rubbing his arm, Tristan turned to Sam and Hugh. “Who knew she had a sense of humor to go along with the slime.”

A few minutes later they got a call from Coach Fred on the radio saying that they'd spotted one of the men on the Jet Skis. The guy was now stranded on a very tiny island and would be waiting an extremely long time for someone to find him. The other Jet Skier got away. Coach told them that they had lots of help, were going ahead with moving the yacht, and to be careful going back to Lee Stocking Island.

“Roger that. Good luck Coach, see you back at the lab,” Director Davis said into the radio. He turned to the young teens in the boat. “Okay, a few rules before we move out.”

The teens rolled their eyes, mumbling to each other about more rules.

“You must all do exactly as I say. Agreed?” Director Davis instructed. Tristan could swear the man was looking specifically at him when he said it.

The teens all nodded.

Director Davis then pulled out a waterproof copy of the map he had previously given each of the campers. “Okay. We're here at Stanley's Neck. We'll head south to the channel that cuts between Stanley's Neck and the next island south. From there we'll go west to get into the lee of the islands where it is calmer and we can go faster. We'll pass by Stromatolite City, then head south again. Another channel and an island or two and we'll be back at the lab on Lee Stocking Island.”

“What's this place marked The Quicksands?” Tristan
asked, pointing to an area southwest of Stromatolite City.

“Remember the bead-like sands I told you about in the plane? The ooids? The Quicksands is an area with those big shifting sand waves made of ooids. At low tide, the tops of the ooid waves sometimes get near to or break the surface and they look like little sand islands. But they can be tricky to see from a moving boat, especially because the sand waves shift positions from week to week. People run aground there all the time. The ooid sand is soft and deep, so boats also tend to sink into it. People just started calling it The Quicksands and the name stuck. We'll be avoiding that area.”

Director Davis continued, “If anything should happen to me or the boat, swim back to the lab. With your webbed feet it shouldn't be too far. Got it?”

They nodded and nervously drank from their water bottles.

“Okay, here we go. Everyone stay on the lookout.”

Tristan, Sam, and Hugh stood next to one another holding onto a metal rail at the side of the steering console. Ryder and Rosina were standing on the other side. Director Davis inched the boat through the tunnel and out of the cave. The teens looked around anxiously while the director concentrated on getting through the shallow water without doing any more damage to the propeller. Luckily, at slow speed in bright sunlight it was much easier to avoid the rocks and coral. And there were no helicopters or Jet Skis in sight.

Sam leaned closer to Tristan and Hugh. “Do you
think my echolocation would help us find that other Jet Skier? Or tell us if anyone else is out there?”

Tristan and Hugh both shrugged, nodding a tentative “yes.” Sam mentioned it to Director Davis and he said he'd keep it in mind.

They cruised to the channel that cut between Stanley's Neck and the next island south and turned west into it. The boat was instantly hit by small choppy waves. His bones and brains rattling, it felt to Tristan like they were going over a series of miniature speed bumps. He looked ahead and did a double take. Halfway down the channel there was a series of bigger waves, but not like any he'd ever seen. They were standing still. The peaks and valleys of water seemed almost frozen in place.

“What's that?” Tristan asked.

“Tide must be going out,” Director Davis said. “Those are standing waves. They're created when the incoming ocean waves and currents meet the outgoing tide from the bank.”

“Can we go around them?” Hugh asked nervously.

“They look worse than they are,” the director told them.

Hugh didn't look convinced.

“Anyone ever try to, like, surf them?” Ryder asked.

“Not that I know of,” Director Davis answered shaking his head. “Hang on, it could get a bit bumpy. I'm going to give her a little more gas to go through. Hopefully the propeller will hold up.”

Rosina and Hugh sat down on the seat in front
of the steering console. Ryder, Sam, and Tristan remained standing. All of them grabbed hold of whatever was in reach. Director Davis pushed the throttle forward. The boat seemed to hesitate, bucking the current. He gave it more gas and steered directly for the standing waves.

“We want to cross them perpendicular to the wave front,” Director Davis shouted over the noise of the engine.

The campers tightened their grips. They hit the first wave straight on. The boat bounced and went airborne. Seconds later, they landed with a teeth-rattling, fat-jostling jolt in the following trough. Rosina and Hugh flew off the seat then came down hard. Those standing tried to reduce the impact by flexing their knees like skiers going down a slope with some serious moguls. Ryder and Tristan were smiling, enjoying the challenge. Sam, the lightest of the group, appeared to be hanging on for dear life. They braced themselves. There were three more waves ahead.

When they'd made it over the last wave, Director Davis smiled and slowed down. “See that wasn't too bad.”

“Tell that to my backside,” Hugh replied, rubbing his butt.

“See the curve up ahead with what looks like dark patches underwater?” the director said. “That's Stromatolite City.”

“Uh, sir. What are stromatolites anyway?” Hugh asked.

The director looked around. “No sign of anyone.
Maybe a very short stop would be okay. Not every day you have a chance to see one of the true ancient wonders of the world.”

The campers exchanged questioning looks, clearly wondering if this was another of the man's bad jokes. Director Davis slowed the boat as they neared the scattered dark spots. Each was about the diameter of a hula-hoop.

“Stromatolites are like living pillars or tall layer cakes made up of sticky algae and sediment. The algae grow upward, are covered by sand, then another layer of algae grows, and it is covered with sand, and so on. Sometimes calcium carbonate, the same thing as limestone, precipitates out of the water to act like cement. It's a sort of frosting to harden the layers. And
voila
, you get a growing column of algae and sand. Fossil stromatolites are evidence of some of the earliest life forms on the planet. The earliest stromatolites are thought to have formed some three billion years ago.”

The boat was nearly still.

“Okay, everyone look over the side.”

The young teens leaned as far over the side of the boat as they could. The water was tinged blue-green, but clear. Tristan wasn't sure what he was looking at. It was almost like the ruins of an old city. There were at least ten tan pillars sticking out of the sand, rising toward the surface.

“How tall are they?” Tristan asked.

“They can get to be nearly twelve feet high here,” the director answered.

Hugh and Sam were still leaning over, their noses
nearly touching the water. Sam grinned. Suddenly, two dolphins popped up just inches from Hugh's nose.

Hugh jumped, stumbling backwards. Everyone else laughed.

“Oh, don't do that to me. My heart,” Hugh said, clutching his chest and breathing hard. “Sam, you knew that was going to happen didn't you?”

Sam smiled sweetly, nodding at the mother and baby dolphin. Just then they heard the distinct puttering sound of another engine somewhere nearby. They scanned the area, but didn't see anything.

“Maybe that's the other boat with Coach Fred and the others,” Sam suggested.

“I don't think so,” Director Davis said. “Sam, I think your friends there might be here to warn us, not just give Hugh a fright. You alright to jump in quickly to try to locate that boat or Jet Ski?”

“Sure,” Sam answered. She slid into the water beside the dolphins and together they dove down among the algae pillars, disappearing from view. Sam popped up about twenty feet from the boat, spun around, and dove back down. A few minutes later she was back at the boat. Tristan helped her climb onto the small dive platform. The dolphins leapt out of the water nearby then headed into the channel toward the open ocean. The sound of the other engine was getting louder.

“It's a Jet Ski alright,” Sam told them. “He's just to the north of us, heading south and coming our way. Should be able to see us in a few minutes, when he rounds the tip of the island.” Sam pointed to the leeward
side of Stanley's Neck. “The dolphin can't help because of the baby. They're going to deeper water.”

“Okay, we've got two options,” Director Davis said quickly. “Try to outrun him back to the lab or you all hop out here and swim to the next island down. There's an area with mangroves where you could hide for a while and then head back to the lab. I'll keep going, pretending to have gotten lost.”

The campers were unusually quiet.

“Look, I doubt we can outrun him. So we'd better go with option two. Rosina and Ryder, you could stay with me. No one saw you earlier. But Tristan, Hugh, and Sam this guy may have gotten a look at you from the yacht.”

Tristan was shocked when Rosina said, “The Seasquirts should all stay together.”