The Stranding (38 page)

‘All right.’ The kid was hedging, a bit guarded.

‘Lost your mum?’

‘Yeah, ages ago. She got yapping to some weirdos with dreadlocks. She told me to go and hang out with Mrs Jensen. But that’s not much fun . . . You won’t make me go back there, will you?’

Lex shook his head. ‘No. I wouldn’t want to hang out with Mrs Jensen either.’

He hid his concern. It sounded like Helen had somehow become tangled up with Jen and her mob—the ratbag element. Taylor and Wallace had been muttering expletives about them since things had hotted up on the beach, and Lex had seen them earlier sitting around in a tight knot, brooding. They might cause trouble before the event was over. He looked down at Darren standing beside him with his hands shoved in his pockets. The poor kid was all gawky angles, not quite sure of how to be and where he might fit in the grand picture of life.

‘Let’s get something to eat,’ Lex suggested. ‘We can dodge Mrs Jensen’s tent.’

In the food tent, Sue was busy turning sausages. She was flushed despite the cold weather.

‘Mr Henderson,’ she said, waving her tongs at him. ‘It’s your fault we’re all caught up in this. I could be at home in front of the fire doing some knitting.’

Lex smiled. ‘Now come on, Sue. If I hadn’t rung you, you’d have been down here by now anyway.’

‘What’ll you have, boy?’ she said to Darren. ‘A sausage or a sausage. They’re your mother’s snags after all. Not that she’d know anything about it. She’s joined the renegades from what I hear.’

‘What are renegades?’ Darren asked.

‘They’re representatives of the devil,’ Sue said.

‘Sue.’ Lex tried to check her. ‘Tone it down.’

Sue handed them each a sausage wrapped in bread and splattered some tomato sauce out of a squeeze-bottle.

‘John,’ she called. ‘Come over here and tell Lex what we think about all this.’

John Watson appeared at the entrance to the tent carrying two loaves of bread in each hand. ‘He already knows,’ he growled. ‘I don’t reckon he wanted this scale of rescue either. It’s all about feeding the hordes and keeping them warm to save them from themselves, rather than saving the damned whale. They ought to leave the poor bugger alone to die.’

‘I don’t want it to die,’ Darren said, his face creased with stress. ‘My dad would have wanted it to live too. Everything has a right to live.’

‘Oh dear,’ Sue said quietly. ‘The legacy continues.’

‘They won’t kill it, will they?’ Darren looked up at Lex, alarmed.

‘No, they won’t. Don’t worry.’

‘What about Callista?’ Sue asked. She raised her eyebrows at Lex. ‘What does she think?’

‘She’s not talking to me at the moment. But this morning she seemed pretty keen on getting a rescue under way.’

‘A sticking point, eh?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Are you two ever going to work it out?’

Lex shrugged and Sue shook her head.

‘You wear me out,’ she said.

Lex ate his sausage in the shelter of the tent, Darren beside him. They watched people file in for food, some of them looking very cold. Perhaps Parks should turn away the under-equipped. It might not be raining anymore, but the bite of the wind was chilly and without proper windproof gear some of the crowd would be getting pretty close to the edge. It wouldn’t help morale. Lex was hoping there’d be some significant action soon. Everyone was sick of waiting for something to happen.

A shout up the beach drew them out of the tent.

‘The bulldozer’s coming,’ Darren said. ‘I’m going to get Mum so she can watch.’

The boy disappeared and Lex moved to the edge of the crowd where he could see the bulldozer lurch out of the scrub down by the lagoon and turn to begin grinding along in the sand near the base of the dunes. The excavator slowly bobbed and swayed behind it.

It took ten minutes for the machines to reach the tents, and there was a general buzz of excitement and a rush as people scuttled forward for a better look. Among the gathering of bodies, Lex saw Sash and Evan weaselling their way between the legs of adults. They materialised out of the crowd just near him and flung themselves at him with enthusiasm. They were barely recognisable in their oversize raincoats and red woollen beanies. Lex lifted Sash for a hug. Then Sally found them.

‘I knew they’d be where they could get a good view of the machinery,’ she said. ‘Forget the whale.’

‘You have to get your priorities right,’ Lex said.

‘I’m glad they’re trying to rescue it,’ Sally said. ‘Poor thing. It’ll be nice to see it swim away. How long has this been going on?’

‘Do you really want to know? Hours.’

‘Really?’ Her face fell. ‘That’s a shame. It’s not looking too good then, is it?’

It was a relief to hear someone make a rapid practical assessment on the basis of good sense.

Sally looked at her children with concern. ‘I’ll have to be careful about when to take this lot home then,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to protect them from everything. But there are some things you’d rather they didn’t see.’

‘I want to watch the machines, Mummy,’ Sash said.

Sally smiled. ‘You can watch the machines, honey. And then, when we get a bit cold, we’ll head back home.’

‘Thank you,’ Lex said.

‘What for?’

‘For being sensible.’

Sally laughed. ‘I’m sometimes capable of it on a good day.’

Callista watched as Peter Taylor and several other staff wrapped blankets around the bucket of the excavator, tying them on with ropes. Then a small posse of volunteers dragged inflated mattresses down the beach and pushed them in against the whale’s belly. A large flat sling was placed across the mattresses. The plan was to roll the whale onto the mattresses and then pull the end of the sling beneath the tail. On its chest, the whale should be able to breathe easier. And once the sling was in place it could be used later to help pull the whale out to sea after refloating. A harness would also be strapped around the pectoral flippers to help with this.

Peter Taylor had tried to make the plan sound straightforward, but, reading her father’s face, Callista knew it was ambitious. Jimmy was not somebody who stressed easily, but he was tense today.

In the cab of the excavator she could see Trevor Baker, quiet and red-faced. He wore his tension like a coat, his big hands tight around the controls. Jimmy’s job was to direct machinery operations and Callista could see him giving hand signals to Trevor to guide the excavator into position. It was going to be difficult; the excavator was already sinking in the sludgy sand.

On the far side of the whale, volunteers continued to press the inflatable mattresses up against its belly. The whale lay still, but it raised its pectoral flipper as the excavator approached and flailed wildly in the air, slashing the flipper against its side like a flashing black and white windmill. Then, somehow, the whale arched and managed to drag its massive tail out of the sand. As the huge flukes crashed down violently, the volunteers staggered backwards. Callista felt sick with fear. Someone could be killed if they lost balance and fell the wrong way. She wished there was another way. But she knew it was this or they’d have to shoot the whale.

Trevor tried to hold steady as he inched the excavator towards the whale, but occasionally the machine jolted and clanked and the engine revved throatily. At first, the whale struggled, but after a few minutes it slumped and lay still. Callista wasn’t sure which was worse: the stress of watching the whale react or seeing it give up.

When the excavator was close, Trevor lowered the bucket and jiggled it down onto the sand beside the whale’s back. With the blankets wrapped around the bucket to prevent trauma to the whale, this was going to be a difficult manoeuvre. But eventually Trevor managed to dig the bucket into the sand and then use its flat side to push slowly upwards. With the assistance of another group of volunteers, the whale finally rolled onto its chest. Trevor backed the excavator away and more mattresses were buttressed against the whale to maintain its position. Taylor was calling out, asking if the sling was visible, and a couple of volunteers tried to find it, but it must have bunched up beneath the whale’s belly as it rolled. Another strategy would have to be used to place the sling.

Jimmy huddled with Taylor and Trevor Baker discussing what to do next. It was unfortunate it had to be like this— one wretched step at a time, with impromptu meetings to discuss and adjust strategies. It made the rescue appear less than professional. But nothing about this event was predictable and Callista hoped the positive support of the crowd would persist. In truth, the whole process was horrible. No matter how carefully each step was planned, something could go wrong.

She heard someone call out.

‘What’s going on?’

Jen’s friend Jarrah ducked under the cordon and strode up to a ranger.

‘Aren’t they going to brief us on what’s coming next?’ he yelled.

Jen was there too, just behind the cordon. ‘Let Jarrah help,’ she demanded.

‘I’m sorry,’ the ranger said, grim-faced, trying to encourage Jarrah back under the cordon. ‘This is a bad time. We can’t have anyone approaching the whale right now.’

‘Ah, you bastards.’

Jarrah knocked the ranger over, but at that moment the sound of the excavator revving up again hooked everyone’s attention back down the beach. The excavator was clanking slowly down towards the water to start digging a seawall and some Parks rangers were pulling another sling across the sand.

Suddenly, barefoot and with dreadlocks flying, Jarrah dashed down to where Taylor and Jimmy were standing with the vet. Callista saw her father’s surprised face when Jarrah elbowed in on their discussion. From Jimmy’s gestures she knew he was angry, but a solution was quickly reached. There was too much urgency to waste time.

Two men were placed on each end of the sling. Jarrah was one of them. Callista hoped his inclusion wouldn’t send the wrong message to other would-be helpers. But nobody else tried to make a break down the beach. Shouldering the weight of the sling, the men carried it down beyond the reach of the whale’s tail. Then Jarrah and his partner crossed behind, dragging one end of the sling wide. They laid the sling flat on the ground and tried to slide it beneath the whale’s tail, but the whale wouldn’t move.

After another huddle to discuss tactics, the excavator was recalled. Trevor revved the engine to frighten the whale in the hope it might lift its tail, while Jarrah and the other men stood alert, holding up the ends of the sling, waiting for the right opportunity. For a long minute it seemed nothing would happen. The whale lay still. Then Trevor jerked the machine to make a loud clank and the whale arched and thrashed its tail wildly, alarmed by the noise. Quickly the men dragged the sling forward. It was a desperate and perilous move, but they pulled the sling safely into position beneath the tail.

As the men headed back to Taylor, Jarrah paused, his body tight with the desire to do something more. Ignoring Taylor, he moved quietly forward and pressed his cheek against the whale’s back. Callista felt the crowd around her breathing with empathy, breathing their own hopes through Jarrah as his hands slid gently over the whale’s sides. For several moments, Jarrah stood there unmoving, despite Taylor impatiently calling him away. And, watching him, Callista started to cry. Whatever she had hoped, this rescue was awful for everyone. Perhaps a quiet death on the sand would have been preferable to this after all.

•

When the crowd finally dispersed up the beach, Callista hung back, avoiding the swarm of people. Further along the cordon she saw Lex. He waved as he came towards her, and she knew the expression on her face would tell him how terrible she was feeling about the rescue. But just as he reached her, a man walked up to them carrying a microphone in his hand.

‘Hey. Lex Henderson.’ The guy swung the microphone over his shoulder and grabbed Lex’s hand in an enthusiastic shake. ‘I heard you were down here. What’s happening, man? How did you get caught up in this? It’s been a long time.’

‘Shane.’ Lex sounded reluctant. ‘I knew someone familiar had to turn up.’

‘What are you doing down here? We lost you, man. Nobody knew where you went. You living ’round these parts?’ Shane laughed loudly. ‘Apart from whale strandings, there can’t be much going on around here. You must be going mad.’

Callista watched, wondering at the relationship between them. Friends or acquaintances. It was hard to tell. Lex had pocketed his hands and his face was closed down.

‘It’s not so bad,’ he said. ‘But you wouldn’t understand, breezing through like journos do.’

Shane smiled, but his eyes swung to Callista, assessing, presumptive, almost rude. He continued with overdone friendliness.

‘Is this a friend of yours? Hey, I’m Shane Maxwell. An old buddy of Lex’s.’

He offered her his hand, but it felt intrusive.

‘This is Callista,’ Lex said. He moved closer to her. ‘Her family runs the local whale-watching tours.’

Shane’s face expanded too kindly. ‘Hey. You must be the chick that found the whale. I heard about you down at the newsagency this morning. That’s great.’ He reached down to switch on his microphone and recording unit. ‘Can I ask you a few questions?’

Callista pushed aside Lex’s blocking hand. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and get a cup of coffee.’

At the coffee tent, Mrs Jensen and Beryl were deeply engaged in discussion. Callista heard them from outside and she checked Shane before he entered the tent.

‘There are too many of us here,’ Mrs Jensen was saying.

‘What do you mean?’ Beryl huffed. ‘It’s only natural for people to want to help.’

‘It’d be easier for the rangers if none of us were here. Then they could get on with deciding what they should do.’

‘What are you saying?’ Beryl sounded outraged. ‘You can’t possibly think they should kill it?’

‘If necessary, they should. I can’t help thinking that all of this is going on to keep the humans happy.’

Beryl snorted. ‘What would the minister say if he heard you talking like this?’

‘Do you think this is what God wants? To see an animal tortured?’