Dolphin Dreams

by Jules Jones

  Their interest in him wasn’t unusual. Dolphins were curious about humans and had even been known to protect swimmers from sharks. That chimed with what he thought he remembered, but he kept reading.

  The really interesting thing was that dolphins were bisexual. The adult females and the young lived in pods, but the adult males often formed long-term pairs and trios who hunted together, protected each other, and pursued females together. They also spent their spare time playing together, and that included having sex with each other when there weren’t any receptive females around.

  His pair had to be a young male hunting partnership. “So you two are probably fuck buddies when you’re not chasing women. And you’re smart and have plenty of spare time, and I’m an interesting new toy for you to play with.”

  He could think of worse things than being the week’s entertainment for a pair of highly intelligent wild animals. At least they had better manners than the last person he’d been a toy for.

  * * * * *

  He was just going to bed when the phone rang.

  “Martin. I got here in one piece, though the flight was a bit delayed. How’s it going with you?”

  The line was a little crackly, but Simon’s voice was still a sweet comfort to him. “I’m feeling a lot better, thanks.”

  “You haven’t met someone already, have you?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” He told Simon about the dolphins.

  “Good god,” Simon said. “I knew there’s a pod off the Dorset coast, but I hadn’t heard of anything like that. You lucky bastard.”

  He knew Simon’s envy was quite sincere. Simon was besotted with nature in general, even if his hobby was peering at the small things in rock pools. “Not my fault you buggered off the moment I arrived,” he teased. “Maybe they’ll still be around when you get back.”

  “Well, bribe ’em with anything you like out of the freezer,” Simon said. “Even if they don’t stick around, they’re obviously doing you some good.”

  They chatted for a few minutes more. With Simon reassured and the call finished, Martin headed for bed, feeling much happier than he would have expected a few days earlier. His only worry now was whether the dolphins would be there tomorrow.

  Chapter Two

  Martin woke early the next morning, his body clock still a little off after the early rising and early to bed. With no reason to stay in bed, and two good reasons to go out in the boat again, he didn’t bother with a lie-in. Up, dressed, a good breakfast, and a packed lunch supplemented with the packet of shrimp from the freezer, all before the time he would normally be going to work.

  The dolphins were waiting for him. Not right by the boat, no; but as soon as he was out into open water, they appeared, keeping pace with him. Martin led his little convoy to the cove he’d finished up in the day before, and paused to look around. Then he moved the boat around the point to the next cove and was pleased to find another good exposure of the fossil bed. At the far side of the cove it dipped under the water; but at the back of the cove, above a nice sand beach, it was at a convenient height for working. He made a note of his location and described the place before settling down with his book. At the moment, the dolphins were of more interest to him than the fossils were.

  This time he read aloud to them out of his new book. He’d only read a page or two before going to sleep the night before, so out of courtesy he started from the beginning. Even if they couldn’t understand the words, the intonation would probably make more sense if he read from the start.

  They seemed to approve. There were disappointed whistles when he reached the end of the chapter and put away the book. They followed him in as he took the boat towards the beach, once again stopping only when the water grew too shallow for them. He turned on some music to keep them amused while he was hunting fossils and went to inspect the cliff.

  The tide had dropped by the time he’d finished, and he had to push the boat off the sand. As he did so, one of the dolphins whistled at him.

  “Hang on a minute.” One last push got the boat into deep enough water, and he gave it a shove and jumped in. “What’s up?”

  The dolphin waited until he was settled in the boat, then turned and headed towards where the cliff dropped into deeper water. Martin followed, wondering what was going on.

  The dropping tide had revealed part of a small fossil skeleton embedded in the cliff. The dolphin nudged it gently with its beak, whistled, and backed out.

  Martin whistled himself. “That’s going to be a nice one if it’s all there. Thank you.” They really had been paying attention to what he’d been doing, if they understood that he’d want to see this. He wondered if they’d had some sort of training. Escaped from a dolphinarium, perhaps? Or maybe they’d simply spent a lot of time hanging around boats for the company.

  The best thing to do was to wait until the tide had dropped far enough to expose all of the fossil. He photographed it as it was, just in case. Then he moved the boat away from the cliff and started reading aloud again.

  A couple of chapters later, he went back to check. The fossil turned out to be in a piece of rock that was coming loose anyway. Two pieces of good luck in as many days, although this one was a little trickier because he was in the boat and couldn’t get any leverage. Then the dolphins pushed against the boat, holding it steady against the cliff.

  Martin was startled by the help, but made the most of it, prising at the small slab of rock. Finally he had it free and safely stowed away. “Good lads,” he said to the dolphins. “That’s a lovely one. Thank you.”

  The rest of the day followed the same pattern as the previous one, the only change being a couple of handfuls of thawed shrimp to each dolphin at lunchtime. He thought that they’d have preferred chocolate but were still pleased that he’d brought them something.

  The day after that was the same, as well. The three of them settled into a routine, Martin wondering all the while how long it would be before they got bored and left him, but delighted to have their company for as long as they chose to give it. They worked their way through the book and started another. Martin told the dolphins about the practical use in commercial geology of much smaller fossils to date different rock formations. Between them they found some more nice specimens. Martin discovered by experiment that the dolphins liked a lot of different music styles but had a particular fondness for the ruder songs from Gilbert and Sullivan’s light operas.

  And on the sixth day it changed, as the fine weather finally broke.

  Martin was so absorbed in the book he was reading to the dolphins that he noticed nothing until the first fat drop of rain splashed onto the page. Startled, he looked up to find that half the sky was covered in fast-moving heavy clouds.

  He was still in sunshine, but not for long -- his book had been attacked by the leading edge of the cloud front. He hastily wiped the book dry and put it away under cover, then pulled out his raincoat. It was time to head for home, and he didn’t think much of his chances of getting there before the rain set in.

  He revised his chances downward when the darkened sky was suddenly lit by a flash of lightning. He swore, shoved the few items still out into their cupboards, and tried to start the engine.

  Nothing happened. The only sound to answer him was the rumble of thunder in the distance.

  He couldn’t be out of fuel; he’d filled the tank that morning, mindful of Simon’s warning that running out of petrol could mean a long row rather than a long walk. The boat was fitted with oarlocks and a pair of small oars, but they were meant for silent manoeuvring of the boat near shy wildlife, not for extended travel.

  He tried again. The engine coughed once and died, and as if to mock him it was echoed by another low rumble of thunder, sounding nearer now.

  Not just thunder. The wind was rising. Here in the sheltered cove the water was still calm, but he could hear the wind outside. Soon the open water wouldn’t be a good place for a small open boat.

  He tried once again, s
chooling himself to be calm and not get it wrong through panicking. The engine almost caught, but then failed, and now he thought he knew why. His careful filling of the tank might have been his undoing -- the fuel could have been contaminated with something that had blocked the feed line.

  Simon might have fixed it, but Martin didn’t know enough to do it on his own, not out on the water, in heavy rain, without tools. He pulled out his mobile phone, but wasn’t surprised to find that he was in a reception dead spot here under the cliff. Right now his choices were get out and walk, row, or hole up somewhere.

  Get out and walk wasn’t a serious option, not from here. The cliff around this cove was too high to climb safely in a storm. Holing up wasn’t much of an option either, because the beach probably wouldn’t be there come high tide, not with waves driven by a storm.

  He could sit tight on the beach until the tide came right in, then bail if necessary and hope that the cove was sheltered enough that the boat wouldn’t be driven into the cliffs; but his safest option was to start rowing. He wasn’t going to get very far, but he didn’t really need to. In the last cove there’d been a good wide strip of completely dry sand and shingle above the high water mark, so even with a storm he should be safe from the rising tide. He was confident of his ability to row that far without capsizing the boat if he started now.

  The dolphins were already agitated, but when he tried to set up the oars, they started whistling in alarm. One headed off to the mouth of the cove and paused there, whistling loudly. As he started rowing, it came back and whistled frantically at him.

  “I know, I know!”

  At least it had the sense to keep out of his way. They positioned themselves one on each side of the boat, where he could see them but wouldn’t hit them with his oars. It was awkward going; with the engine he’d been able to face the direction he was travelling in, but rowing meant having to face away. At first he tried to twist round every so often to see where he was going so that he could keep his course to the middle of the cove; then he realised that the dolphins were trying to guide him. If he kept between them, he’d be on the right course.

  He knew when he’d nearly reached the open water, because a wave slapped the boat hard enough to scare him. Feeling the boat move in the grip of the sea and the wind, he was no longer so sure of his ability to get it safely to the beach he had in mind.

  Nor were the dolphins. As he paused to think about his next move, they reared up, looked around, and whistled at each other. Then one dropped back down, swam over to the boat, and reared up again next to the prow.

  Martin wondered what the hell was going on. The dolphin was clearly trying to tell him something. Then he remembered the line he used to tie the boat up at night. Was he being offered a tow?

  He grabbed the line, made sure it was securely fastened to the boat, and tossed the free end out to the dolphin.

  The dolphin grabbed the line in its mouth and promptly headed off, towing the boat behind it. He’d guessed correctly what the dolphin had had in mind, but it was taking the boat further along the coast rather than back the way they’d come.

  He nearly stood up to shout, but decided to trust the animal. It knew the coast better than he did. Instead he pulled out the spare line, tied that off securely, and held the free end up where the other dolphin could see it. It whistled at him in acknowledgement, and he tossed it the line.

  He pulled out the tarpaulin and spread it out to keep rain and waves off as much of the boat as possible. The boat was well built, but there was only so much it could take, and he had no intention of testing how much water it could take on board without sinking.

  Simon was never going to believe this, but Martin could have done without the wild ride. He’d rather read old legends than re-enact them, and a dolphin-powered chariot wasn’t his idea of a good time. He’d be seasick if they didn’t stop soon; the boat was bouncing over the waves in a thoroughly unpleasant manner.

  They passed two coves before the dolphins finally veered back into shelter. Martin expected them to take him in as close to the beach as they could, but to his surprise, and then horror, they headed straight for the cliff.

  “What the hell are you playing at?”

  He started to stand up, ready to jump, and then just as it seemed too late, he understood what they were doing. There was an opening in the cliff face, low and hidden, and they were heading straight into it. A very low opening. He sat down and ducked his head to one side, but not quite in time. Something hit a glancing blow on his temple just as they passed under the cliff. Between that and the seasickness, he was in no shape to notice anything for a moment other than that they had passed under a thick wall of rock and into a cave.

  Chapter Three

  Dazed, Martin sat quietly as the dolphins drew the boat alongside a rock shelf. The water was still a little rough even in here, but it was much calmer than the open sea. Even feeling queasy and stunned, he could raise a little curiosity, and he peered at the rock shelf. It looked as if it was part natural, part worked by human hand. The dolphins let the boat come to a halt alongside a flight of steps cut into the rock.

  Martin looked around in wonder. There was a little light coming through the cave entrance, and he could see reasonably well. The cave was quite large once you got past the entrance, with a high ceiling and plenty of room for a boat. The rock shelf ran right back into the gloom at the rear of the cave, but there was also a beach of fine shingle where he could draw up the boat if necessary.

  He knew that there were abandoned quarries along the Dorset coast. Most were some metres above sea level, dug into the cliff face at whatever level the best seam of stone was to be found, but one or two faced directly onto the sea. This could be either a natural cave or a quarry, but it was clearly long disused. A rockfall along one wall suggested that there might once have been a larger entrance there.

  If this place had been abandoned for a long time, the dolphins might well be the only ones who knew about it. He was safe for the moment, but he’d need to get out of here under his own power, because if he was reported missing, nobody was going to be looking for him in here.

  First thing was to get himself out of the boat. He still felt sick and wasn’t sure how much of it was the bumpy ride and how much was the bump on his head. If he was sitting on dry land he’d at least get rid of the seasickness. But he’d need to take as much as he could with him, in case he felt too wobbly to come back for anything.

  Blanket. He’d got wet in places even under the tarpaulin and his coat, but the blanket was in a watertight bag and should be dry. Even if it was wet, wet wool would be warmer than wet jeans. Food, and the second flask of tea that would still be hot. Torch, of course, because it was dark at the back of the cave; and if he did end up trapped in here, he’d need it to signal to rescuers. Tarpaulin because if he turned it wet side down, it would be extra insulation between him and the cold shingle. And the cushion pad from the seat.

  Martin looked around for something to tie the boat to, to stop it drifting away. Then he realised that he could just climb up the steps with the line in his hand, walk along the rock shelf, and simply tow the whole thing to the shingle beach. That way he could climb out without getting any wetter than he already was, but would still have the boat close to hand.

  He managed to get the boat half out onto the beach and even found a rusted iron ring to tie it to. Getting the tarpaulin and blanket out took the last of his strength. He staggered up the beach and was delighted to find a stretch of dry sand past the shingle. He spread out the tarp, then the blanket on top of that, and started stripping off his wet clothes. It seemed to take a long time, and his fingers felt like rubber. In fact, he felt rather as if he were drunk.

  He stopped and closed his eyes, and the nausea receded a little. But he knew now that he had concussion. That bang on the head had been enough to do it.

  Wonderful. Lost, trapped by a storm, and concussed. Not the best situation to be in. He had to hope that the concussion
was mild, because if he had any serious injury he was in deep shit.

  “Don’t go to sleep just yet,” a deep, attractive voice said. “You owe us something for the rescue, I think.”

  Startled, Martin opened his eyes again. There was a man standing in front of him, and another just walking out of the water.

  And no dolphins in the water.

  Naked men. Tall, handsome, naked men. The one in front of him was definitely tall, a good bit taller than he was. And strapping with it, muscular without being muscle-bound. Tall, blond, and handsome. The one just shaking the water off his legs was dark-haired, but otherwise more of the same. Martin felt his cock rise, and then his cheeks flush as he remembered that he was naked too and they could see his reaction. The man in front of him looked down at his erection and then back up at his face, and grinned.

  He tried to remember whether you got hallucinations with concussion. It was too long since the last time he’d been on a first-aid course. He closed his eyes again. “You’re not real.” They couldn’t be real; dazed or not, he’d have noticed if another boat had followed his in.

  “Oh, you’re half naked and find yourself faced with a couple of naked men instead of a couple of dolphins, so you go into denial.”

  They must have seen him arrive with the dolphins. But how? How had they got here? Could there be a passage down from the surface? Unlikely. They’d come out of the water, not from further back in the cave. And there was nowhere for them to have come from, unless they’d swum in after him, for there was only his own boat and no other. It was an unlikely place to go for a swim. “I’m hallucinating. They’re not real,” he said to himself.

  Then he felt bodies pressed up against him. “If we’re not real, this isn’t happening,” another voice said.

  He grabbed at the man in front of him, too dizzy now to care about anything but the support he offered. Arms went around him, holding him tightly.