The Sound of Whales (14 page)

‘You could, I suppose, but Ben will know a better way.'

‘And this man can be trusted?'

There was no other way of getting Jonah off Nin. ‘We have to trust somebody.'

Jonah sighed and rubbed his chin. Finally he said, ‘If you trust this man, then I will trust him also. Will he help?'

‘I'm certain he will.' Fraser reached for his trousers drying on the rocks. They still felt damp as he put them on. ‘I better get back. My parents will be worried.'

‘Yes, you should return home. Talk to this man, ask him for help.'

‘You won't be much longer in this dark place.'

‘I am not ungrateful; the cave has served me well. But I will be glad to be leaving it.'

Fraser pulled on his socks; they were warm and dry and felt nice around his toes. He slipped on his shoes, was tying the laces when he heard the sound. It was faint at first but quickly grew louder. A deep, repetitive rumble.

Jonah got up and moved to the cave entrance. ‘What is that?'

Fraser knew exactly what was making the sound. It was a helicopter. Searching for him. He joined Jonah at the mouth of the cave and looked out towards the sea. From the silhouette of an approaching Sea King helicopter a bright light swept over the water. The helicopter circled the spot where Fraser had begun to struggle. As the light passed over the waves it picked out the shape of the
Moby Dick
, rolling on the ocean. It was still out there, looking for him.

‘They do not know you are here,' Jonah said.

‘They think I'm still swimming out there.' Fraser felt a sudden stabbing guilt that he had sat so long by the fire.

The African said quietly, ‘I am sure by now they think that you are drowned.'

He imagined his parents' reaction to the news of his death, wondered if there would tearing of clothes and gnashing of teeth; more likely the repressing of emotions that was the island way. But he was alive, not dead, and that brought its own troubles. He pictured his father's face when he learnt of Dunny and the dinghy and skippers full of drink. He saw his mother's expression when she heard about swimming in storms and stroking whales.

‘I kind of wish I
was
dead,' he said.

CHAPTER 24

H
ayley stood on the bow of the boat and decided this was her worst day. Ever. She was hypothermia cold, her wet clothes lay in a pile down in the cabin and she was dressed in the most ridiculous combination of towels, some of her mother's things and a pair of old oilskins that reeked unpleasantly of sea life. None of the items warmed her in any way. She was also nauseous. The roll and pitch of the boat was relentless and although she hadn't actually vomited yet, she knew it was coming. To top it off, worry was gnawing away at her insides: there was no sign of Fraser Dunbar.

At first she had been convinced he was saved, but she hadn't actually seen him reach the shore. Her mom was crying and Ben had a drained, sickly look to him. They thought Fraser had drowned. Dunny stood still and quiet, with an untroubled face, as if he knew everything was fine. She had said nothing to her mom or Ben about Jonah.

Ben had called the coastguard while they sailed in endless circles. It seemed pointless; they couldn't see anything in the dark and the storm but Ben had said their boat was acting as a marker. She saw the light of the helicopter long before she heard it. When it appeared overhead it was deafening and as the light swept across their small boat they had to turn their faces to the deck and close their eyes. From the wheelhouse Ben was talking to someone on his phone and she wondered if it was the helicopter pilot.

The helicopter swooped across them once more, the light picking out the tops of surging waves and dark heaving water. The vision frightened her and it was hard to imagine she had been swimming there a little earlier. The thought made her shiver more intensely and her mom put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a vigorous rub. All that did was make the wet oilskin jacket cling to her body.

The helicopter looped around and headed back towards them. It flew over their heads and carried on towards the land. The beam of its light picked out the cliff face, giving the impression of a jagged wall of rock looming large above the small boat. Hayley hadn't realized how near to shore the
Moby Dick
had sailed in its effort to find Fraser. The light focused now on the beach and the helicopter hovered in the same spot, just a dark shadow against the cliff with its powerful beam and a red blinking light on the tail. The throb of its rotors was ear-splitting.

Dunny stood beside the wheelhouse, dressed in a combination of oilskins and ill-fitting clothes that belonged to Ben. He had his eyes focused on the dark sea, ignoring the thundering helicopter overhead. Hayley looked at him and wondered if he truly appreciated the possible result of his reckless dinghy ride.

She clung to the rail and closed her eyes. When she opened them the helicopter was in the same place, the noise just as loud and the light just as bright. She closed her eyes again but it made the rolling of the boat seem worse and her stomach began to heave in time with the waves. The helicopter was still hovering over the same bit of beach, its light still trained on the same section of sand.

‘Has it spotted something?' she shouted to her mom.

‘I'm not sure. Maybe.'

Hayley could hear a change in her mother's voice, hope instead of despair.

‘Is it Fraser?'

‘I'm not sure.'

She looked back towards the wheelhouse and watched Ben wrestle with the wheel, his eyes not on the sea but on the land. She looked at Dunny, who also stared now at the beach with a gentle smile on his pale, wet face. What did he know to make him smile? Her mother squeezed her shoulder and she looked again at the sand just beyond the breaking waves.

A boy stood on the beach, picked out in the beam of light, waving his arms as he looked up at the helicopter. Fraser.

Hayley's mother exclaimed, ‘He made it,' and began to cry again. Ben blew a horn that resonated above the thump of the helicopter and sounded fit for an ocean liner, not a lobster boat. Dunny clapped his hands together and whooped once at the ocean.

Hayley gripped the rusty rail, leant out over the bow of the boat and threw up what seemed like everything she had ever eaten in her life.

CHAPTER 25

I
t was like being abducted by aliens. A bright circle of light surrounded Fraser's body and he had to shut his eyes to narrow slits as he looked up. The whirling blades made the air a solid object, buffeting his body and kicking up sand, which stung like a swarm of wasps. The noise was exactly what you would expect when a large helicopter hovered above your head. He could make out the word C
OASTGUARD
on the side of the aircraft.

He waved again and gave the thumbs up sign. A crewman leant out of an open door in the side of the helicopter. Fraser feared the man was about to winch down on to the beach and insist that Fraser come with him. He didn't need rescuing; he had been rescued already.

Fraser turned and pointed down the beach. The lights of the town could be seen in the distance. It wasn't a long walk. Fraser mimed walking and waved again at the hovering helicopter.

‘I'm fine,' he shouted, knowing there was no chance of his words being heard. He gave one final, exaggerated wave off and then stood beneath the light and the noise and willed the helicopter away. It worked. The light clicked off and the helicopter rose slowly in the air until it was higher than the cliffs. It turned its nose away from the ocean and headed inland. It took a minute before the noise of its rotors faded completely, another minute before Fraser's eyes adjusted again to the dark and he could pick out the cliff face and the sea and the line of the beach heading back towards town.

It suddenly seemed very quiet, despite the gusting wind and the waves crashing against the shore. He looked towards the cave but knew Jonah would be hiding in its depths, out of reach of a curious coastguard. Out to sea he saw the silhouette of the
Moby Dick
turn slowly away from the coast and head south, back to the harbour. He started to walk fast along the sand and then began to run. His body ached from his swim but he kept moving, working out in his head what to tell his parents. It was his brother's fault, of course, all of it: it was Dunny who had sailed off in the dinghy, but Dunny would stand silently and watch him get the blame.

By the time he reached the harbour he had slowed to walking pace, too tired to run. He was also wet again, though not plunge-beneath-the-ocean wet. This was rainy-wind wet, a state of affairs so common in Skulavaig that he barely noticed. As he climbed up on to the harbour wall he braced himself for bodies rushing towards him: his weeping parents, television camera crews, townspeople jostling for a look, the helicopter crew ready to pose for pictures, his school friends with banners and bunting
 . . .

The harbour was empty. There were no people, no cars, no boats, no whales. Light spilt from the hotel but the mission was closed and dark, the ceilidh long finished. He had the curious sensation of being massively relieved and deeply disappointed at the same time. He stood for a few seconds being buffeted by the wind and wondered, once again, if anyone had noticed he was gone.

A voice came from the harbour wall opposite. ‘I told you to stay in your bed when there's a storm.'

Fraser looked across and saw Mr Wallace, who had just emerged from the harbour master's office. He wore a bright orange survival suit with a life vest around his neck and he carried a pair of binoculars. Fraser walked down the jetty and they met by the road.

‘You were reluctant to ride in the helicopter,' the harbour master said.

Fraser looked at the orange suit and life vest. ‘Were you in it?'

Mr Wallace smiled. ‘No, I'm a sailor, not a flyer. I wear this gear when there is a rescue underway. Just in case.'

In case of what?
Fraser wondered. In case the harbour master stepped off the jetty when peering through binoculars in the dark?

‘I was fine,' he said.

‘Aye, the pilot said you seemed to be OK. We decided to let you walk back and I would meet you here. The helicopter is needed for more important things than giving daft laddies a ride home.'

‘I didn't need rescuing. There was no need for a helicopter.'

The second part was true at least. If it hadn't been for Jonah, he would have been at the bottom of the sea long before the helicopter arrived.

‘Ben McCaig gave the impression you were in serious trouble.'

‘I was fine.'

For a moment Mr Wallace seemed ready to say something stern but instead his face relaxed and he said, ‘Let's go up to my office, lad, and get you warm and dry. I need to write a report and you have a few questions to answer. Your dad will be over in a minute. I didnae call him until I knew you were safe. All of you.'

‘What did you tell him?'

‘Not much.' The harbour master gave a grim smile. ‘I'll leave that pleasure to you.'

They walked together up the slope to the Fisherman's Mission. Inside there was quiet and warmth and Fraser noticed his ears hurt from the wind and he was shivering from the cold. The room was scattered with the remains of the ceilidh: chairs and tables and empty glasses.

‘The old boys will clean up in the morning,' Mr Wallace said.

Together they climbed the stairs to the harbour master's office, past the pictures of wrecked fishing boats on the wall. Fraser looked at every picture. Now he knew what the crew of each boat must have felt as they succumbed to the waves. His stomach churned at the thought.

They entered the office and Mr Wallace pointed to the sofa. He went to stand by his large window and Fraser sat down. The room was warm and it made his body tingle.

‘Are you wet, lad?'

‘I'm OK.'

‘You must have been soaked when you came out of the water.'

‘The wind dried me a bit.'

‘Were you not chilled to the bone?'

‘I was cold but I kept moving, warmed myself up.'

Fraser doubted if any of this would convince Mr Wallace but he couldn't speak of fires and warm caves.

‘What happened to your promise, that you wouldnae sail again at night?'

Fraser knew this was coming. He had stood in this very room and made assurances that there would be no more midnight sailings. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It said one minute past midnight.

‘This was different. We went out to fetch Dunny.'

Mr Wallace nodded gravely. ‘Ben McCaig told me that on the phone. Your brother was out there by himself in a dinghy?'

Fraser said quietly with his eyes to the floor, ‘Aye.'

‘Why, lad, why this sudden desire from the Dunbar brothers to pit their wits against heavy winds and heavier seas?'

Fraser kept his eyes down and shrugged, wondered himself about his brother's motives. ‘I can't speak for Dunny. And Dunny won't speak for himself.'

The harbour master shook his head and turned to peer out of the window. Downstairs the door banged and then the stairs creaked as someone ascended slowly. Fraser's heart beat faster and saliva disappeared from his mouth as he awaited the anger and disappointment of his father. With excruciating slowness the office door opened and Willie McGregor appeared. Fraser sighed with relief but knew it was only a temporary reprieve. His father was on his way.

‘Where's my boat?' Willie asked.

‘It isnae your boat any more,' Mr Wallace replied, turning from the window.

‘I saw the helicopter. And then I saw this lad, back here without the boat he sailed out in.' The fisherman moved to the centre of the room and stood with his legs slightly apart, as if bracing himself against the swell. ‘I should never have sold McCaig my boat. The man is not a sailor.'

‘The boat is fine,' Fraser said.

‘He sails out in the dark, hunting whales, he says; trying to impress the lassies, more like. The boat's tough but she's old, she willnae take a pounding. And then the boy's back and the boat isnae and there's a bloody great heli copter flying overhead.'

‘The boat is fine, Mr McGregor,' Fraser repeated forcefully. He looked at the man, with his thick silver hair, his suntan and the gold chain around his neck. Is that what a people trafficker looked like? He was always around, on the beach, in the mission, on his big yacht. All it took to be a smuggler was a boat, and Willie had a nice one.

‘I watched you sail away, lad. So how come you're here and my boat isnae?'

Fraser had no idea how he would explain all this, where he would even start. Certainly with Willie in the room there would be no talk of castaways. He stared dumbly at the floor until the harbour master spoke for him.

‘Unfortunately Fraser went for a swim.'

Willie McGregor tutted. ‘I knew someone would fall overboard with McCaig as skipper.'

‘Not quite.' Fraser sighed. ‘I jumped in.'

‘Och, away with you. Why would anyone jump into that cold water?'

‘I was trying to save Dunny.'

‘Why was he in the dinghy in the first place?' Mr Wallace asked.

‘He was whale watching.'

The harbour master frowned. ‘Suddenly the Sound of Whales is full of whales. Where's your brother now?'

‘He's back on the
Moby Dick
.'

Willie McGregor shook his head and tutted again. ‘I ask you, why did McCaig ever give her that ridiculous name? What was wrong with the
Mary Sue
? You dinnae name boats after fictitious leviathans. Is it any wonder there's always a storm?'

‘And why did
you
not get back on the boat?' the harbour master asked.

‘I couldn't reach it. I couldn't swim fast enough.'

‘But you managed to swim to shore?'

‘Aye.' Fraser could see how close his story was to falling apart. If he was forced to speak of Jonah, Mr Wallace would report it and Jonah would be found and sent back to Africa. Or if Willie McGregor
was
the trafficker, he would get to Jonah first, which would be even worse.

‘The ocean knows, you see,' Willie continued, still on his previous point. ‘You cannae just change the name of a boat to something daft about whales and then be surprised when the ocean doesnae like it.'

‘It's a good name,' Fraser said defensively. ‘Ben studies whales.' He had helped him paint the name.

Willie McGregor was not to be persuaded. ‘Dinnae talk to me about whales. I come from a long line of whalers; it wasnae always lobsters that my family pulled from the sea. There was a time when the McGregors hunted big beasts, up into Arctic waters no less.'

The fisherman walked to the window and stood beside Mr Wallace. He stared out, beyond his own reflection, beyond the dark night.

‘My great-grandfather was the last of them. It was a good business to be in, but there were too many boats killing too many whales. My grandfather moved to Skulavaig for the lobsters when the whales grew scarce. In all my years in the boat I saw only a handful, even out there in the Sound of Whales.'

‘Well, they're back,' Fraser said. ‘All kinds of whales. That's why Dunny went out in the dinghy tonight. He was having a close encounter with a pod of orcas.'

The fisherman shook his head. ‘I've never seen orcas in these waters.'

‘We've seen them a couple of times. Ask Ben. He didn't believe us either but he saw them tonight.'

‘And exactly how close was this encounter with the whales?' asked Mr Wallace.

‘You couldn't get much closer. He was floating amongst them in his wee dinghy.' Fraser took a breath, wondered how this next bit would sound. ‘He was stroking them as they swam past.'

‘Och away!' Willie said.

‘It sounds incredible, I know, but that's how it was. Dunny has these encounters with whales. He has some kind of connection with them. I can't explain it.'

And as he thought about it, and voiced his thoughts, things became clearer, it all began to untangle. He thought about his brother's strange songs on the beach or his clifftop wanderings or the trips they had made on Ben's boat.

‘Dunny finds whales. All kinds: orcas, pilot whales, minke, even a sperm whale.'

‘A sperm whale?' Willie said disbelievingly.

Mr Wallace nodded. ‘McCaig did say to me that he had recorded a sperm whale.'

‘Aye,' said Fraser. ‘And Dunny was there. He's always there.'

Fraser stared out of the window, out into the night, crushed by the revelation. Every time he had sailed with Ben and found something interesting, Dunny had been there. He had thought
he
was Ben's lucky charm, but it was Dunny who brought the luck, not him. Why had he never thought of it before? Perhaps he hadn't wanted to. When it was just him and Ben, nothing. When Dunny was on the boat or on the beach or on the clifftop, there were whales.

‘Maybe young Dunny has a nose for whales,' Mr Wallace said with a smile. ‘We've all got our talents, even the quiet ones.'

Willie faced Fraser with an excited gleam in his eye. ‘Tell me exactly what you mean, lad, when you say your brother can find whales.'

Fraser wondered how much to tell the man. He promised himself he would say nothing that would lead to Jonah. ‘Dunny just seems to know where they are,' he said carefully. ‘Like tonight. He knew there were orcas out there, so he took Ben's dinghy and rowed out to see them. He didn't care about the storm.'