Ocean S. O. S.

by Jan Burchett

  Ben stuck out his tongue at her and aimed again. This time the tiny dart flew straight into Fingal’s back. The young dolphin didn’t seem to notice at all. He rolled playfully in the sea. Zoe bent over the side to stroke him again, and he blasted her with water from his blowhole.

  Fingal tossed his head back and chirped as if he was chuckling.

  “That must be one of his tricks!” Ben said as Zoe wiped her face.

  “He likes all the attention,” she said happily. “We’re earning his trust. Our next job is to take him somewhere that’s safe and quiet and contact Uncle Stephen.”

  “There’s an inlet a few miles away,” said Ben, studying the satellite map on his BUG screen. “It’s northeast of here. It seems remote, no houses or anything, but there’s a small road leading down to it so the people from the Agua Clara Dolphin Sanctuary will be able to get a truck to our location.”

  “Sounds perfect,” said Zoe, grabbing the tiller and sail ropes. “I’ll sail and you keep throwing him treats so he’ll follow us.”

  Fingal swam around the boat, leaping among the waves.

  Zoe smiled. “He’s like a puppy that knows it’s going for a walk,” she said.

  Ben zoomed in on his map to get a close-up of the area. “Don’t go too near the land,” he warned. “The BUG’s showing that the water soon gets shallow with hidden rocks. We don’t want to crash into one.”

  “No problem,” said Zoe, turning the dinghy out to sea and heading northeast.

  Fingal swam alongside the boat as it gained speed. Now and again, he would soar high into the air, twist, and turn before diving back into the waves. Ben rewarded him each time with a whistle.

  A sudden strong gust of wind hit Zoe in the face, taking her breath away.

  The boat lurched on the choppy swell.

  “What’s up with Fingal?” said Ben. “He’s hanging back. Maybe he’s scared to stray into unfamiliar waters.”

  The young dolphin had stopped a few yards behind the dinghy and was calling anxiously to them. Ben threw a dolphin treat into the water.

  Fingal watched as it fell, but didn’t move forward to eat it. He edged backwards in the water, as if he was going to swim away at any minute.

  “Come on, Fingal,” said Zoe.

  “I’ll try his pinger,” said Ben, pressing the buttons on his BUG.

  He watched the sleek, rounded back of the little dolphin swimming slowly up and down just under the surface.

  “We can’t let him go back to the bay,” Ben said. “We don’t have a good way to keep him away from the fishing boats.” He trailed a treat in the water. “He’s nosing at my hand,” he said.

  “Good boy, Fingal,” called Zoe.

  There was a blast of wind across the bow.

  The sails flapped alarmingly and the boat lurched to one side. Zoe acted quickly to bring the dinghy around until the sails filled again and the boat steadied itself.

  “Look ahead, Ben,” she said anxiously.

  “I hope that’s not the hurricane,” Ben said. “It was forecast to miss San Miguel, but we don’t know how close it will come to the shore.”

  The twins peered at the horizon. Swelling waves were rolling in toward the shore. The waves were topped with white flecks. Ominous clouds loomed overhead in the distance.

  “We’re going to get caught in the storm if we stay here,” said Ben grimly.

  Ben turned to throw another treat into the water.

  But all Ben could see was the young dolphin speeding away from them.

  “Fingal must have sensed the danger,” Ben said. “If he’s running away from the hurricane, then so should we.”

  Ben checked his BUG for Fingal’s tracking signal. It showed an orange pulsing light moving swiftly through the water away from their dinghy back the way they’d come.

  “He’s heading for the bay,” Ben said, worried. “And that could be dangerous. Any fishing boats will be making for San Miguel if the hurricane’s getting closer.”

  Zoe pushed the tiller away and set a new course back toward the fishing village.

  Ben checked his BUG again. “Fingal’s signal shows he’s swimming out to sea now, but at least he’s heading south, away from the storm — and San Miguel.”

  Zoe brought the dinghy around and set a course to follow the little dolphin. She glanced over at Ben’s BUG. “I hope we can catch up with him,” she said. “Dolphins can swim fast when they want to.”

  The clouds had spread across the sky now. As they sailed further from the shore, the children could feel the wind growing stronger. The dinghy lurched violently.

  “I’m trying to get us moving faster,” said Zoe. “Hang on tight. Even though we’re sailing away from the hurricane, this wind’s still getting worse. I can barely hold the tiller steady.”

  Ben brought up the satellite forecast on his BUG. “Bad news,” he said. “We’re sailing right into the edge of the storm. It’s going to get pretty choppy here for a while.”

  Zoe yelped in surprise as a sudden gust nearly tore the mainsail sheet from her grasp. She could feel the first lashings of rain on her face.

  “We have to get to shore!” Ben shouted over the roaring wind.

  “Too risky,” Zoe shouted back. “We don’t know if there are hidden rocks.”

  “You’re the boss,” answered Ben. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Take the jib,” Zoe yelled. “Pull that sheet until the sail stops flapping. I’ll deal with the rest.”

  Pulling on the jib sheet with one hand, Ben adjusted his BUG to set the pinger going at full volume. The sky was even darker now, and the rain was hammering down.

  “I’m keeping Fingal’s signal going,” Ben shouted over the sound of the wind and rain. “Dolphins have fantastic hearing.”

  The force of a high wave suddenly snatched the tiller from Zoe’s hands. “Look out!” she cried. “Duck!”

  Ben threw himself down just in time. The boom lifted and whipped across the boat with a sharp crack.

  The dinghy keeled over, the mast nearly touching the waves. Then, caught by the wind, it lurched over the other way, sending the children sprawling across the deck.

  “We’re out of control!” cried Zoe. “We’ve got to get the sails down, and fast. Take the tiller and steer into the wind if you can.”

  Ben grabbed hold as Zoe scrambled over to the mast.

  She released the mainsail, lowering it as fast as she could. Then she did the same with the jib.

  Ben was struggling with the tiller. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on to this,” he yelled. The dinghy bucked and tossed in the waves.

  “Don’t worry,” Zoe shouted. “It’ll be better when we’ve got a sea anchor.”

  “But there isn’t an anchor in the boat!” cried Ben.

  “I know,” she said. “I’m going to make one.”

  Zoe pulled out the bailing bucket and untied the rope from its hook. She leaned out over the bow and tied the rope to the mooring handle right on the front of the boat.

  “Are you crazy?” shouted Ben. “That’s no good as an anchor. It won’t even reach the bottom.”

  “It doesn’t have to,” said Zoe. She heaved the bucket into the sea. Immediately they felt the tug of the boat on the taut rope as it was blown around to face the oncoming waves.

  They breathed a sigh of relief as the dinghy rode the next swell. “A sea anchor creates a drag,” Zoe explained. “It makes us point into the wind and waves so we won’t get blown around as much. When we learned about this in my sailing class, I never thought I’d be using it for real.”

  “I get it,” said Ben. “It acts like a brake when the wind and water try to push the dinghy backward.”

  “Exactly,” replied Zoe, shielding her eyes from the rain. “Now we both have to get down as low as possible and stay
in the center.”

  Ben lay down and started digging through his pack.

  “What are you doing?” yelled Zoe.

  “We should put our flippers on,” Ben yelled back. “Just in case.”

  They’d just gotten the flippers strapped to their feet when Ben glanced up. What he saw froze him to the spot.

  A huge wave was speeding toward them. It towered over them, its top spraying with angry, white foam.

  Zoe could feel the swirl of a strong undercurrent trying to pull the dinghy around.

  The dinghy crested the next wave, and lurched so violently that it seemed it would snap in half. Now they were plummeting into a deep trough and the huge wave was upon them. She pulled desperately on the tiller.

  But it was too late. The boat was caught up by the fierce swell. A moment later, it flipped sideways and turned right over. Zoe felt the whip of ropes and sails and managed to take a desperate breath before she was flung into the dark, churning water.

  Despite her life jacket, Zoe was being tumbled around in the towering waves. No sooner did she feel air on her face than she was rolled back under. Then a wave pushed her up and she felt herself bursting into the air.

  Zoe breathed deeply and let herself float on the swell. She looked around desperately for her brother, but all she could see were dark, ominous waves that lifted her up high and sucked her down again.

  There was no sign of Ben anywhere.

  “Ben!” shouted Zoe, hearing the panic in her own voice. “Ben! Where are you?!”

  A jumble of thoughts went through her head. Had her brother been swept farther out to sea by the current? Had he jumped clear of the boat? Was he caught inside it, unable to free himself?

  Zoe had a moment of cold, paralyzing horror. Wherever he was in this terrible sea, she had little chance of rescuing him. But she shook those fears away. She knew she had to try to find him.

  She scanned the waves. It was a terrifying sight. Each swell looked bigger than the one before, and as she looked for her brother, the wind was blowing the rain hard into her face until her cheeks hurt. The black clouds were still overhead, making it so dark that it was impossible to see very far.

  Then a faint cry reached her. Zoe turned herself around in the water and saw a dark shape being thrown around in the waves.

  Zoe struggled to make her way to him, feeling herself being sucked back the whole time by the currents. She could see Ben’s arms thrashing through the water. At last, he was near enough for her to grab on to his life jacket.

  “You’re okay!” Zoe could hardly get the words out in her relief.

  “Just barely,” shouted her brother over the roar of the storm. “Now what?”

  “Find the boat!” yelled Zoe. “We need something to hold.”

  “Didn’t it sink?” Ben asked.

  “Flotation tank,” Zoe said. “It keeps the boat on the surface. And with any luck, the backpacks will still be attached.”

  “So we just have to locate it, then,” Ben said.

  “Easy!” shouted Zoe. “You tagged it, remember.”

  “Ha!” Ben said. He tried to punch the air, but just choked on a mouthful of water.

  Zoe pulled her BUG out of the water, feeling a surge of relief that it was still safely secured to her diving belt.

  Zoe wiped her wet hair from her eyes and brought up the tracking screen. “It’s pretty far away!” she called, watching the orange light in the water that marked the dinghy’s position. “But we have to try to reach it. This way.”

  Fighting the storm currents, they tried to make headway through the dark water.

  Finally, Zoe slowed and treaded water. “My lungs are burning,” she said, panting loudly. “I need a rest.”

  “Agreed,” said Ben. They lay their heads back on their life jackets, holding hands to stay together while riding the waves.

  “The waves seem to be getting calmer now,” said Ben.

  “You’re right,” said Zoe. “Look, over there — there’s a break in the clouds.”

  Ben looked up. Thin beams of sunlight could be seen filtering through the clouds.

  “You still have your BUG, right?” asked Zoe.

  “Safely tied to my belt,” said Ben. “But the limpet’s with the boat, so there’s no point in sending out a call to Fingal. He’d go there instead of coming to us.”

  “He’s probably far away by now,” said Zoe, “but we can still check his tracking signal.”

  Just then, something heavy slammed into their legs. Ben and Zoe looked down in alarm.

  A smiling dolphin face popped up from the waves in front of them. A scar ran down from its right eye. It was Fingal. The young dolphin chirped loudly. Then he walked backward on his tail and came swimming back to them.

  Zoe stroked his side as he swam past. “We’re so glad to see you,” she cried. “Now that the hurricane’s moved on, you’ve come to find us!”

  Suddenly, the water all around them began to seethe.

  In an instant, the twins were surrounded by sleek gray bodies, arcing and diving through the waves.

  “It’s a pod of dolphins,” said Ben. “Fingal seems to have made friends with them.”

  Fingal was leaping among the group. “They’re getting too close for comfort,” Zoe shouted above the chirps. “They’re circling us. I’m sure they’re just playing, but we’ll have trouble getting past them.”

  The dolphins were swimming right up to Ben and Zoe now, forming a tight band around them. They felt their arms and legs being wrapped by the strong flippers. Ben held out his arms to fend them off.

  “I don’t think they’re playing,” he said anxiously. “We should try to break through before we get hurt.”

  As a tail passed him, he kicked hard, hoping to burst through the gap, but at once another dolphin was on him, pushing him back to Zoe with its nose.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he yelled. “Remember that show about dolphins that attacked and ate seals?”

  Zoe looked at him in horror. “We’re in big trouble!” she said.

  They tried to fend off the dolphins, pushing against the strong bodies. “Fingal’s still with them,” yelled Ben. “Look, here he comes. He won’t hurt us.”

  But the young dolphin began to join in with the jostling. The circle got even tighter.

  “We’re going to be crushed!” shouted Zoe.

  Suddenly, between the troughs in the waves, Ben could just see another fin cutting through the water toward them.

  “There’s a shark out there!” Ben cried.

  Now Zoe understood what the pod was doing. “They’re protecting us,” she said. “They’re guarding us from the shark. And Fingal’s helping them.”

  Two of the dolphins peeled away from the pod and swam straight for the shark.

  There was a tremendous splash as the three huge creatures crashed together.

  “What’s happening?” yelled Ben.

  “I can’t see,” Zoe yelled back. “They must be ramming it.”

  Their dolphin protectors continued to swim around them. Fingal gave them a reassuring nudge with his nose as he passed. Then the two dolphins were back. The pod was suddenly giving urgent chirps and squeaks.

  “They must have chased it away,” Ben shouted. “There’s no sign —”

  To Zoe’s horror, he cried out and disappeared under the water.

  The dolphins dived frantically. Zoe tried to follow, but the life jacket kept her on the surface. She tore at the straps, flung it off, and dived, searching for her brother.

  Once she saw him, the blood turned to ice in her veins. The shark had swum under the pod and was biting one of Ben’s flippers, shaking him like a rag doll. Zoe swam down and tried to pull Ben away. But she was no match for the huge shark.

  Zoe kicked down hard with her heel and whac
ked the shark on its nose. The shark recoiled, letting go of the flipper. Zoe grabbed Ben’s life jacket and made for the surface as the shark lunged again.

  The shark’s mouth was open wide, showing rows of sharp, deadly teeth. Suddenly, something sleek and gray shot across and rammed the shark hard in the side of its face.

  It was Fingal. The shark reeled at the blow.

  Ben’s life jacket was pulling him up to the surface. Zoe swam up beside him.

  “I didn’t see it coming!” cried Ben.

  They peered anxiously into the depths. Dark shapes were flashing back and forth in a desperate frenzy as the other dolphins joined Fingal in attacking the shark.

  “We need to get away from here,” said Zoe. “But how?”

  A gray streamlined body pushed in between them and leaped into the air.

  The figure swam around and came up to them, a happy grin on its scarred face. Their young friend nudged them with his nose. Then he swam around and came up behind them, lifting their arms as he passed. He did it again.

  “What’s he doing?” said Ben.

  “He wants us to grab his dorsal fin,” said Zoe. “I think he’s going to give us a tow!”

  As Fingal went to pass them again, they grasped his back fin, and at once felt his strength and speed as he pulled them through the water.

  “I don’t really care where we go,” Ben shouted back, spluttering a little as the foamy waves splashed in his face. “As long as it’s far away from that shark.”

  Fingal swam strongly, keeping his fin just above the surface of the water. Zoe’s hand began to feel numb from hanging on for so long, but Fingal seemed tireless. Then a worry began to form in her head.

  “He’s only ever lived in a pool,” Zoe said to Ben. “He could be swimming in circles.”

  “You’re right,” Ben called back. “But what else can we do? There’s a hungry shark out there somewhere and —” Ben stopped talking and wiped the water from his eyes. “Do you see what I see?”