“Am I dead?” I whispered to Angie.
“Haw?”
I looked from the shadow of the whales, up to the fiery sky that was alive with the pink, red and orange hues cast by the disappearing sun. “I’m just wondering if I’m dead, and already in heaven,” I said.
“It is out of this world, that’s for sure,” Angie said with a smile. “But you are still very much alive, Mel.”
“Then something or someone is trying to get through to me,” I said, as I struggled to fully take in the scale of the natural beauty all around me. “The whales, this place – it’s just all too much to mean nothing.”
Angie moved in closer and put her arm around me. “Maybe it’s meant to give us courage, honey. Just think, any time you’re feelin’ worried or afraid in the future, you can remember this special moment, and take strength from the memory of these amazing creatures.”
I smiled at her. “That’s lovely, thanks, Angie. I’ll do that.”
We sat huddled together watching the orcas in silence for another ten minutes or so. I didn’t ever want the day to end but, as the sun finally slipped down into the Norwegian Sea, all we could make out of the orcas were the black silhouettes of their fins as they swam away into the approaching night. I felt a little bereft when Pål put the engine back on and turned the boat around for home. We’d been in the bay for just over an hour, I’d probably been in the water only for about five to six minutes altogether. It was just a glimpse, a brief moment in time, but as we sped away through the starry night I knew that it was one I would never forget.
It was after nine o’clock by the time we got back after seeing the orcas, and there was a palpable sense of excitement throughout the Inn: the staff were smiling and joking with the guests, the guests were toasting the staff, everyone was in a good mood.
Angie disappeared for a few minutes after dinner and I was sitting by the fire in the bar chatting to Tanya, Bert, Johann, Pål and a few of the other guides when she got back.
“Care for a celebratory nightcap?” I asked her, about to get up and go to the bar.
“Sure, but just a second, honey. I wanted to give you this first.” She handed me a DVD case as she sat down at the table beside me. It had the words Orcas of Norway written on the cover.
“What this?” I asked.
“That’s the nature programme Ron copied for me not long before he died. It’s just a documentary about the orcas here in Tysfjord. My Ron loved it – said he’d a liked to come see them whales for himself some day.” She had tears in her eyes as she spoke. “I want you to have it now, honey.”
“Oh Angie, I can’t take this from you – it has sentimental value.”
She sat up straighter. “I don’t need it any more. I’ve seen the real thing now – for both me and Ron.” She put both her hands over the DVD and pushed it towards me. “It’s important, honey. Play it when you get home – I think you’ll find it interesting.”
“Okay, Angie. I’ll do that. Thank you.” I gave her a hug.
“Hey, Mel,” said Johann, patting me on the shoulder. “How about an Irish song?”
I turned around to him. “What? Oh no, I couldn’t!”
“Go on, honey,” said Angie. “I’d love to hear you sing.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side!” I laughed. But I never could resist a sing-song. “Oh, all right then, but don’t forget you asked for it.” And with that I broke into a rousing chorus of The Irish Rover as the Norwegians, Americans and English clapped along.
Chapter 14
RICHARD
Takumi was due on night watch in a few hours – he was asleep in the cabin with the air conditioning turned off, snoring loudly, so I had to write my article in the campaign office. I stared at the calendar on the wall. It had been only nine days since I’d joined the Illuminar, but it felt like nine years. I couldn’t get used to the constant swaying and the movement of the ship, or to walking diagonally through corridors with my shoulder pinned against the wall. I found the thirty-to-forty-degree temperatures of the Pacific overwhelming, and I was getting really sick of dodging flying objects whenever we hit a rogue wave – we’d already had more than our fair share that day. The campaign office was normally full of people, but they were all busy running around preparing for bad weather ahead. We’d been on typhoon warning all day, and even though Captain George had changed course to try to avoid it, we were warned to be prepared for a lively night ahead.
I may have been sick of living on board a ship, but my respect for the crew hadincreased with each day on board the Illuminar. They worked hard against the elements, and seemed to take living at sea in their stride. I’d never seen such an energetic group of people – if they weren’t cleaning, painting, or fixing a part of the ship, they were practising fire or man-overboard drills, taking Japanese lessons, or working out campaign manoeuvres. I helped out with the dishes after meals a couple of times, but other than that I pretty much left them to it. I just wanted to be back on dry land – back in my rightful job on the paper, back where I could get a decent pint, and back where there was the potential of meeting a woman without facial piercings or a wardrobe consisting solely of combat trousers and T-shirts covered in some variation of the Save the Earth/Oceans/Whales theme.
But despite all my misgivings about being at sea, and my concern about work back home, I did find myself getting more and more interested in Greenpeace’s emerging publicity campaign.
I looked back at my computer screen. I’d tried to capture the story in my article about the imaginative multi-media campaign about the fifty humpbacks included in the hunt, and the impressive response from the public. After an online vote to name one of the humpback whales that Greenpeace had been tracking through its alternative humane whale-research programme, their online supporters had gone nuts voting for the name ‘Mister Splashy Pants’. In response, the Greenpeace team had created a viral online campaign around the story, and ‘Mister Splashy Pants’ became the mascot for the public campaign to stop the hunt on the humpbacks. The Greenpeace machine went into overdrive: Mister Splashy Pants was given his own social media page, video game, and range of T-shirts, mugs and button pins – all demanding we Save Mister Splashy Pants. It generated significant media interest, and in a short space of time Mister Splashy Pants went global – CBS, Sky News, you name it, they picked it up. I had to admit, it was genius stuff, and I watched it all unfold from inside the floating campaign office.
In fact, it’d be fair to say I got a bit caught up in the whole thing myself – even put a call in to Jangler for his help.
“So if you could ask the students there at Ashvale to sign the petition demanding an end to whaling, it’d really help the cause,” I said, surprised he could make out what I was saying over the terrible ship-to-shore phone line.
“Yes, indeed, I’ll get right onto it, Richard,” Jangler said, seeming enthusiastic. “I’ll try to get some of our other schools involved too. We’ll see if we can’t all get together to help you and Ray shake things up a bit out there. Keep up the good work.”
“Will do. Thanks, Father, I knew we could count on you.”
The momentum from the campaign seemed to have a positive influence on my writing too. I’d finished a first draft of my article within a couple of days of being on board – mainly focusing on the campaign within Japan, but it also had a piece about Jerry and Sinéad. Edith had been on to me by email, pushing me to send her something for the weekend supplement, and I was almost ready to submit when the Mister Splashy Pants campaign really took off. As events started to unfold I decided to hold off on sending my first draft – it seemed so lifeless and uninspiring compared to what was happening in real time. Then Edith sent a couple of uptight emails letting me know she was royally pissed off about the delay.
“She’ll get over it when she reads this,” I said aloud as I scanned my final draft on the screen. It was one thousand, two-hundred and eighty-four words of sheer genius about Greenpeace’s humpback camp
aign. The crew – including Ray, Sinéad, and Takumi with the Japanese angle – formed the background to the story, but the main stars were Mister Splashy Pants, the humpbacks and their army of online supporters.
I smiled to myself as I finished reading the last few lines.
Definitely worth waiting for. It wasn’t exactly unbiased journalism, but it was emotive, topical and bloody well-written, even if I did say so myself.
I hit the send button, then sat back to wait for it to go – but the quality of the lines on board was so bad, and the speed of the internet connection so slow, that it took forever to send an email.
I sighed as I sat back and waited for it to go through. The sea had already got quite rough, and we were starting to roll about a lot – I was glad the desks and chairs were nailed down, but had to secure my notes under a heavy stapler. I looked up at the clock – the article had taken me longer than expected to finish off. I’d been in the campaign office for the past two hours and it was now pitch dark outside. I was tired and just wanted to get to my bunk. I looked back at the screen – the damned connection was taking even longer than usual, probably due to the bad weather. The sending symbol just rotated round and round endlessly in front of me on the screen.
“Come on! Just send already, will you?” I shouted.
“Call for Richie on line two,” Jules’ voice came over the intercom system.
I picked up the receiver and pressed the flashing line – and just as I did the much-welcome Sent symbol appeared on screen.
“Hallelujah!”
“Richard?”
I recognised Jangler’s voice. “Yes. Is that you, ol’ fella? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Richard, I’m glad I could reach you,” he said, sounding serious. “Where are you now?”
I looked out the window. I don’t know why – it wasn’t like the black horizon could answer the question. “We’re in the Pacific Ocean – somewhere south of New Guinea at the moment, I think.”
“Ah, still on the ship then.” Jangler took a long pause. “Are you sitting down?”
“Yes. Is everything all right, Father?”
“No, Richard.” He took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I have some upsetting news. There’s no easy way to tell you this, but it’s your mother – dear Rose passed away suddenly this morning. May God rest her soul. I’m so very sorry.”
I slumped back in the chair.
“Richard, are you okay?” Jangler said.
“She’s dead? My mother’s dead?”
“Richard? Is there anybody there with you?”
I sat back up straight. “How did she die?”
“A heart attack. She collapsed a couple of hours ago at Mass in your local parish there in Richmond. They called an ambulance straight away, but it was too late. She died before they were able to get to her.”
“Right,” I said, still not quite able to register what he was saying.
“Your Aunt Sheila and Derek called and asked if I could try to track you down. They’ll be going over to London, and . . .” he hesitated, “I’ve just spoken to Edward. I’d like to give him this number to call you on – would that be okay?”
I nodded slowly to myself. “Yes, of course – we’ll need to make arrangements.”
“That’s good, Richard. I’m sure it will take a few days yet for the funeral. Edward tells me she wanted to be buried locally there in Richmond. When will you be able to get back?”
“I think we’re due into port in a couple of days.”
“Good. Well, speak to Edward, and let me know if you need me for anything – anything at all, Richard.”
“Yes, Father. Thanks for the call. I appreciate it. I’ll go now if that’s okay?”
“Fine – if you’re sure you’ll be all right. You’ve had a bad shock.”
“Yes, I’ll be okay.”
Jangler sighed. “She was a good woman. You’ll miss her very much, I’m sure. Look after yourself now, son, and we’ll talk soon.”
“Thanks, Father.” I hung up and sat staring at the wall ahead.
My mother is dead.
It just doesn’t seem real.
She’s gone.
I should speak to Ed.
I need air.
I zipped my laptop into its case and grabbed my notes, then stood up and used my free hand to hold on to the fixed desks and the walls to steady myself against the swaying ship.
I walked out of the office down the narrow corridor and pushed the outer door open. A sharp blast of wind slapped me hard as soon as I stood out onto the deck. I put my laptop and notes under my fleece and pushed my way against the wind to get over to the lower deck. As I reached for the railing at the top of the steps, a huge spray of salty sea water splashed up right over me, soaking me through. I just kept going.
Takumi and Pierre, one of the other ship’s mates, were at the bottom of the steps, about to come up. They stood aside to wait for me to come down first.
“Richie, you need to get inside!” Takumi shouted up at me.
I could only just about make out what he was saying over the howl of the wind.
“Use internal doors. Not allowed to be out on deck tonight unless have to be!”
“All right, thanks. I just needed air. I’m going to the cabin now.” I struggled against the wind to walk down the stairs.
“You okay, Richie?” Takumi asked as I passed him at the bottom. “You look terrible. Seasick?”
I just nodded and kept walking.
“There are tablets in my drawer – take two!” he called after me. “And make sure to stow away anything you have loose in cabin. It’s going to get a lot worse – we’re passing close to the typhoon.”
I didn’t turn around, but held my hand up to show I’d heard.
The wind forced its way into the corridor behind me like an uninvited guest. The strength of the gust blew over the bin beside the inner wall. I pushed the door shut behind me, relieved to expel the noise, then I stepped over the loose rubbish to get to the door of the cabin. Inside, the room was alive. The iceberg photograph had fallen off the wall and shattered glass from the frame was scattered over the sink and floor. Some of my loose papers had fallen off the desk, and a couple of books had come down from the shelf above. Anything that wasn’t fully secured was swaying from side to side – myself included.
The door flew open again as I started to gather up my papers and books, so I slammed it shut and this time locked it to keep it shut. Then I threw everything into the cupboard, before rummaging in my bag at the bottom of it for the emergency bottle of whiskey I’d bought in duty-free on the way over. I grabbed my plastic tumbler from where it had fallen into the sink bowl, and filled it to the top with whiskey. It slopped out the sides as I made my way over to Takumi’s bottom bunk. I sat down and knocked back what remained in the tumbler in one go. Holding on to the bed frame to anchor me against the swaying, I poured myself another, then another.
After a few minutes the phone on the wall rang.
I looked at the flashing light for a few seconds. It kept ringing, so I knocked back the whiskey, eased myself up onto the chair and, holding on to the desk to steady myself, lifted the receiver.
“Richie, you’re there – good.” It was Jules. “The intercom system’s just gone down, and the line’s very bad. May be wind damage. Anyway, sorry, it’s another call for you – urgent apparently. I’ll put it right through.”
“Thanks.”
I waited.
“Richie, it’s Ed.”
I tried to sit up straighter. “Ed.”
“You’ve heard?” he asked.
“Yes. Jangler rang.”
“We need to sort out the funeral.” Six months hadn’t changed his voice – it was my brother all right, but he sounded so formal. This person was like a stranger. “I can organise it all from here,” he was saying. “How soon can you get back?”
“I’m not sure. We get to Auckland in a few days, I think. I’m due to get off the ship
there – so I’ll get the first flight back.”
“Good,” he said. “It’ll take us a few days to organise things this side anyway. We’ll stretch it out until you can get back – I’ll let you know the details once we have it all finalised. Better go make some calls.”
“Have you been talking to Sheila?” I asked before he could go.
“Yeah, she’s not good. Sh–” His voice started to crack. He stopped for a few seconds, then cleared his throat and continued. “She’s taken it pretty bad. Nobody expected it, she always seemed so healthy. Derek’s booking flights over for them today. I’m on my way up to their house now.”
He was about to hang up but I didn’t want him to go. “Ed?” I said.
“Yes?” He sounded impatient.
“Eh no. That’s all fine. Cheers, thanks for sorting it, man.” I felt so bloody nervous speaking to him.
What the hell was the matter with me? I knew we hadn’t spoken in months, knew I had hurt him . . . but this was still Ed, my brother Ed who I’d known all his life. I needed to stay calm, keep him talking.
“I’m really sorry I can’t be there to help, Ed.”
After a few seconds of a pause, he spoke again, “It’s all right, Richie, there’s nothing you can do.”
“Are you okay yourself, man?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It’s all a bit surreal to be honest.” He sounded a bit warmer. “I can’t believe she’s gone, Rich. There was so much I should have said to her, so much I still wanted to talk to her about.”
“I know – me too, man.”
“How . . . h-how are you doing?” he asked.
“Who, me?” He’d caught me off guard. “Ah yeah – I’m cool. No . . . like . . . well, sad really.” The words tumbled awkwardly out of my mouth. It wasn’t what I wanted to say – they didn’t sound like my words at all in fact, but once I’d started, I couldn’t stop. “Yeah, sad, I s’pose. Ah shit, I don’t know, man. I just found out.”
Look into the Eye Page 13