A Star to Steer Her By

by Beth Anne Miller

“Judging by that look on your face, I’m guessing you know what I’m talking about.”

  I sighed. “I do. But what’s the point?”

  “The point is that you like him, and it’s obvious that he likes you. Seems pretty simple to me.”

  “It’s anything but simple. Students and crew can’t hook up. And even if we did it anyway,” I added before he could interrupt, “I’m not going to risk my scholarship and my future for a fling that will end when we get off the ship in New York.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little flirtation, Ari. Besides, you know you want to.”

  He had me there, and he knew it.

  Later that afternoon, while I was on bow watch, I passed the time replaying various moments with Tristan from the past few days, analyzing everything he’d said and done to see if Kevin was right.

  Damn it, why’d he have to say anything? Even though I’d noticed that Tristan was paying attention to me, it made it more real somehow to have Kevin notice it, too. And now it was all I could think about.

  A great burst of sound to my right yanked me out of my thoughts. A vaporous plume billowed up from the sea less than a hundred yards off our starboard bow. And then another burst of sound and another vapor cloud, this one much smaller.

  My heart leaped with excitement. “Humpback whales, three points off the starboard bow!” I shouted. I’d hoped we’d see them a few days ago, when we were closer to the breeding and calving grounds Sully had mentioned, but there’d only been a few spouts way off in the distance.

  Everyone ran over, except Davey, who’d relieved Kevin at the helm. Was there a limit to how much weight could be on one side of the ship before it tipped over?

  Captain MacDougall joined us. “Aye, it’s a mother and calf,” he said with a smile. “Let’s go have a look.”

  The crowd dispersed to various posts on deck to lower the sails when the order was given. I returned to my position at the bow, grabbing the rail for balance as the ship abruptly turned to starboard.

  Within minutes, we’d drawn within about a hundred feet of the whales, who had stuck around as if they were waiting for us. The sails were dropped and we drifted quietly on the sea. “All hands to midships!” We assembled in front of the captain. “Okay, everyone. You have a rare opportunity to be up close with two humpback whales, a mother and her calf. We’ll launch Softy and Speedy and paddle over in groups so as not to chase them off with the motor.”

  “Can we get in the water with them, Captain?” asked Maria. “That would be so amazing!”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Torres, but I can’t let you do that. That’s a fifty-foot-long wild animal, with a young calf that she’s going to be protective of. It’s too dangerous. Sully, anything they should look for as they observe the whales?”

  The professor was beaming. “Take the time to really study them, especially the long pectoral fins and counter-coloration. And as the captain said, she’s a large and powerful wild animal, so approach with caution.”

  “Thanks, Sully,” said the captain. He smiled at me. “Ms. Goodman, since you spotted them, A Watch can be the first boat in with Tristan. The rest of you will follow in your watch groups.”

  “Thanks, Captain!” I said, nearly bouncing with excitement. We made short work of launching the two small boats, and the five of us and Tristan put on life jackets and climbed down the ladder into Mr. Softy, our small inflatable boat.

  It took a moment to coordinate the paddling, but within a few minutes, we’d drawn up close to the whales, which were still resting at the surface. We approached slowly from the right side, giving them a wide berth so as not to frighten them.

  The mother whale was enormous, completely dwarfing our little boat. I couldn’t believe I was within a few feet of a humpback whale. I’d only seen them from the deck of a giant whale watching boat while on vacation in Cape Cod one summer. I remembered being utterly thrilled when a whale breached nearby. When we returned from that trip, Josh and I read as many books on whales as we could, longing for the day when we might be able to get close to one.

  Nearly seven years later, here I was, practically able to reach out and touch this enormous whale. Josh will be so jealous when I tell him. I immediately felt the rush of anger, guilt, and sadness that had accompanied every thought I’d had of my brother over the past six and a half months. I pushed those thoughts out of my head to focus on the whale. All I could do was stare. It was awe-inspiring to be in the presence of something so huge, yet so graceful, so perfectly suited to her environment. I would just have to absorb every detail so I could hopefully tell Josh all about it one day.

  Her skin was bluish black on her back and sides and whitish gray on her belly, which would camouflage her in the water. The extra-long pectoral fins that gave the whale its scientific name “Giant-winged New Englander” were pulled in close to her sides…

  Wait. That doesn’t look right. In every picture and video I’d seen of humpbacks, their long, graceful fins were nearly perpendicular to their bodies, helping to orient them in the water.

  “Guys, can we get a little closer? Something doesn’t look right.”

  We paddled to within five feet of the whale, and I realized why she didn’t look right.

  The rear two-thirds or so of her body was surrounded by clear, deadly gill netting.

  There was an explosive breath from the whale. It sounded like she was wheezing. She was somehow holding herself at the surface in order to breathe, even though her flukes and fins were completely entangled, the netting wrapped so tightly around her that parts of it were embedded in her skin, drawing blood. How long could she keep herself there before her strength gave out?

  If she drowned, the calf was doomed as well. It hovered slightly to the left of its mother’s head. Even though it was about twenty feet long, I could tell that it was very young. The mother was so entangled that the calf couldn’t nurse, and it wouldn’t survive long without nourishment.

  “Tristan, we have to help her.” Everyone murmured in agreement.

  “I know.” He pulled a radio from his pocket and hailed the ship, explaining the situation to the captain, who told us to return to the ship for the moment.

  “We can’t leave her, Tristan. She’ll think that we’re abandoning her to die.” I knew it sounded ridiculous, but I really believed it was true. “I’m staying here.” I set down my paddle and slipped over the gunwale into the water. To my surprise, Jenny was the next one in, and then the others followed.

  “Get back in the boat.”

  “She can’t hurt us, Tristan—she’s exhausted and she can barely move. Besides, the ship isn’t far.”

  He sighed. “The captain’s going to keelhaul me for this. Okay. Just…be careful. I’ll be right back.” He paddled a short distance away, then started the motor and sped back to the ship.

  I swam to the whale’s head and hesitantly laid my hand on her rubbery skin. I looked into her eye. It had been half closed, but opened wider to look at me.

  “Hang in there,” I said. “We’re going to help you. We won’t let you or your baby die.”

  The great eye closed and then opened again, and a shiver ran down my spine. It was as if she’d understood what I said, and was telling me she could hold on a little longer. Surely I was imagining things. There was no way this whale understood me. I gazed into that fathomless, ancient eye that stared so calmly back at me. What if she had understood? What if she was right now thinking that the humans were going to save her and her calf? And what if we couldn’t? No, I refused to believe that. We were going to save them.

  “Guys, the calf isn’t doing so well,” said Jenny. It was feebly pumping its flukes, but wasn’t able to raise its head out of the water.

  The mother whale blinked her eye once more. Go help my baby, she seemed to say. I patted her side and swam over to the calf. “We have to hold its head up until the others get here.” We all surrounded the calf, lifting its chin until the blowhole cleared the water.

  Our shipmates arr
ived a few minutes later, along with the captain, who did not look happy. “We’ll chat later about how you all got in the water without my permission,” he said, “but let’s help these whales first.” He waited for us to nod meekly, then swam over to the whale. Maria and Andy relieved Jenny and Steve, who went to work on the net. Tristan distributed masks and fins. “The others have started cutting away the net. If you guys are okay here, I’ll go join them.”

  “The calf is really weak,” I said. “Who knows when it last nursed? It may not make it if we can’t get the mother free really soon.”

  He nodded sadly. “I know. We’ll do the best we can.” He patted my shoulder and swam to the mother whale.

  My muscles began to cramp from the chill of the water and the effort of holding up the whale’s head. Kristy came to relieve me, and I headed to the rear of the whale to do some cutting.

  I swam over to Steve, who was sawing away next to Jenny. “Can I take over, Steve?” I asked.

  “Here, you can take my knife,” said Jenny. “I can’t feel my arm anymore.” She handed me her knife, hilt-first. She leaned against the whale’s side for a moment, gently stroking the black skin. “Do you think we’ll free her in time?” she asked.

  “We’re getting there,” I said. “It looks like her pectorals are nearly free, and hopefully when that happens, she’ll have an easier time of it.”

  “And the calf?”

  “We’ve been holding its head up out of the water so it can breathe. I just hope it hangs on until the mother is free.”

  “I really hope so,” she said, giving the whale one last pat before swimming off to help with the calf. I slipped between Tristan and the captain and sawed away at the nearly clear strands of the net. It was hard to believe that such thin filaments could be so strong, so deadly. Bit by bit, the strands were cut. But the whale’s breathing grew more labored by the minute.

  “Left pectoral is free!” shouted Justin. A moment later, Sully announced that the right one was free as well. We all cheered. Finally, we were seeing some real progress.

  But the whale noticed it, too, and lurched, her huge body rolling one way and then the other as she moved her fins.

  “Everyone, get back!” shouted Tristan. We backpedaled away from the sucking waves created by the whale as she moved. She had enough mobility now to do some damage, and we stayed out of the way for a few minutes, giving her time to settle down again.

  She stopped thrashing, perhaps realizing that she still needed our help. We cautiously moved back in to continue working on her flukes, but as more of the net was cut away, she began to pump her flukes up and down, forcing us to back off once more or risk being pulled under or struck.

  “It’s too dangerous now,” said the captain. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt. I’m sorry, but we have to stop. Perhaps she can free herself from the rest.”

  Everyone protested at once. “But we’re almost there!” Jenny said. “What if she can’t get herself free? We didn’t spend all this time cutting away the net to stop now!” The others murmured their agreement.

  “Ms. Bradford, I cannot let you risk your safety any more than I already have. I’m truly sorry for the beast, but your lives are more important than hers.”

  “And what about the calf, Captain?” I said. “It’s going to die if it doesn’t nurse soon!”

  “Aye, Ms. Goodman, it might, but there’s nothing more we can do.” His voice was regretful, but firm.

  “I promised her,” I said, tears welling in my eyes. “I promised her we would save them. And now we’re just going to stop when we’re so close. She’s going to wonder why we got her most of the way free and then left her to fend for herself.”

  “Ms. Goodman—”

  I saw a flash of color over by the struggling whale. It was Tristan. He’d shed his vest and was upside-down in the water, his fins waving at the surface as he worked furiously to free the last sections of net.

  I swam over to the whale, ignoring the captain’s commands to return to the ship. There were now strings of blood in the water from her many wounds.

  Any sharks in the area would surely smell that blood, wouldn’t they? Don’t even think about it. We needed to hurry. Tristan tipped his head up, sucked in a breath, and dove under again.

  I looked closer and saw that he’d nearly done it. There were only a few strands left to go.

  I slipped out of my life jacket, took several deep breaths, and dove down, kicking hard. I reached Tristan, who glanced up, startled. He motioned for me to go back. I shook my head and focused on the section of net in front of my face. I was not going to let this whale down, not when we’d come so far.

  I leaned one shoulder against the whale’s heaving side and slid the tip of the knife under the filament. Tristan finished his section, popped up for a breath, and came down again, moving to the section next to me.

  I needed air, but I was so close. I sawed faster…there! The strand snapped and I shot up to the surface, greedily sucking in air. Something brushed my hand—it was Tristan shoving a section of net at me. I gathered as much of it as I could. He took my arm. “Let’s get out of the way.” We swam backward, kicking hard.

  “She’s free?”

  “She’s free. And she knows it. Look.”

  With a mighty swish of her flukes, the whale lunged halfway out of the water, her exhalation a deafening roar. Those who were with the calf quickly backed away as the mother came up beneath it, nudging it to the surface as though it was a newborn taking its first breath.

  It then swam down under its mother’s belly and began to nurse.

  The captain came over, his expression fierce. “A Watch, over here. Now.” The others joined us, and we all braced for the worst. “When your captain gives you a command, you follow it,” he said, glaring at us from under his eyebrows. “You were told to return to the ship for instructions, and you disobeyed. That was bad enough. And you two,” he said, directing that glare at Tristan and me, “you both could have been hurt by that whale just now. You don’t get to choose which orders to follow and which ones to ignore!”

  Tristan had said almost the same thing to me in Puerto Plata. In some ways, Tristan had been scarier, since it was so unexpected to be yelled at by someone around my age. But on the Meg (or off, in this case), the captain was king, and his word was law. Neither of us spoke. What was there to say?

  The captain whistled sharply, mustering the rest of the students to join us. “A Watch will spend the rest of the afternoon on extra day duty. Scrubbing the floors below deck, polishing the brass, scouring the heads, cleaning the galley.”

  None of us dared to speak. The corner of his mouth turned up. “Since that’s settled…good job, all of you. I’m very proud of the way you all worked together as a crew. Now, let’s get back to the ship.”

  It didn’t take long to shuttle everyone back to the Meg, though I was reminded how much harder it is to get into a small inflatable boat than it is to get out of one.

  When we reached the ship, I hauled myself up the ladder, ignoring the ache in my leg from being in the cool water for so long. As soon as I was on deck, I tossed aside my mask and fins and joined my shipmates at the rail, just in time to see the mother whale launch herself out of the water in a spectacular breach. And then another. She must have been utterly exhausted from her ordeal, but she summoned up enough energy to thank us for saving her and her calf.

  I felt wetness on my face and realized I was crying. I looked around and saw that I wasn’t the only one. We all cheered for the exuberant whale, hugging and high-fiving each other.

  “All right, Red?”

  I whipped around and came face-to-face with Tristan, who was grinning from ear to ear. “That was amazing! I really thought they were doomed, after we all worked so hard. But we did it!” I threw my arms around his shoulders, went up on my toes, and kissed him on the mouth.

  He froze, his entire body going rigid. Oh, holy crap, I just kissed Tristan! I jumped back and quickly l
ooked around. Thankfully, no one was paying attention to us. I started to turn away, but he caught my arm and pulled me in for a hug.

  “You were fearless out there. I’m so proud of you,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. He stepped back and smiled at me, his eyes full of pride, elation, and something else I couldn’t quite figure out. But I wanted to. God, how I wanted to.

  “Ari, Tristan, you guys were awesome!” Kevin’s excited shout was like a bucket of ice water, instantly dousing the heat that practically sizzled the air around us. With a rueful grin, Tristan turned to receive Kevin’s high-five. “It was even worth the extra day duty,” Kevin said, putting his arm around my shoulders.

  It totally was. We’d saved that mother and calf. It was the most amazing feeling in the world, and something I’d never forget.

  The other thing I’d never forget? The fleeting moment, over so fast I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it, when I’d felt Tristan’s lips yield under mine before he pulled away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was a quiet afternoon out on the sea the day after the whale rescue. Other than some clouds on the horizon behind us, it was another beautiful Caribbean day, and another day closer to Dominica and our second dive.

  The upcoming dive weighed heavily on my mind. I hadn’t been sleeping. My dreams were full of sharks stalking me through murky waters and tearing open my leg. I tried to focus on something other than the dive, but that led to dreams of Tristan and me in a clinch. I mean, those were definitely preferable to sharks and blood, but they weren’t helping me sleep.

  After class, I had a few hours until watch, so I sprawled out on my towel in a patch of sun on the salon roof and pillowed my head on my arms, hoping the gentle rocking of the ship would lull me to sleep.

  I don’t know how long I slept—blissful, dreamless slumber—before I felt myself sliding and snapped my eyes open. My feet pointed down toward the rail, through which the sea churned and foamed. What the—? The ship rolled back the other way, so I was looking at a stormy, gray sky.