The Stranding

by Karen Viggers

  ‘The thing about humpbacks is that they rarely strand. They’re good coastal navigators and they’re used to moving in shallow waters close to shore. I’ve been to quite a few strandings, but I’ve never seen a live humpback strand before—although I have heard of one, more than a decade ago, up at Peregian Beach in Queensland. What you have to remember is that these events are few and far between. And so we have to be quite worried about this young humpback, and we have to ask ourselves why he’s here when he shouldn’t be.

  ‘There are a few possible explanations. Apparently the beach here is pretty unstable with lots of rips and gutters. So he might have screwed up his navigation and got himself into trouble in shallow water. But as I said, that’s less likely for a humpback than some other species. It’s also possible he might have been separated from his pod for some reason and got lost. Or maybe he’s sick. Unfortunately, there’s not much a vet like me can use to assess a large whale like this. I look at responsiveness, muscle tone, the condition of the skin and blowhole, that kind of thing. And I can get a few hints from blood samples. But I can’t tell much about what’s going on internally, such as what sort of condition his lungs are in, or whether he has a significant parasite load or some other serious underlying disease. I don’t even know how long he’s been stranded or how he was when he first beached. And remember, just being out of water compromises a large animal like this. So that means I’m second-guessing. It’s not a precise science in any way.’

  As she listened, Callista tried to suppress the sinking feeling in her chest. If the vet didn’t know what was going on, what chance was there?

  ‘What I can tell you about our whale is this,’ Tim continued. ‘From what I see, he’s still in reasonable condition, even though he’s somewhat depressed. Apparently he was vocalising more frequently this morning, and we’re not hearing much from him now. So that’s not a good sign. But his skin is still in good condition, there’s no bleeding from any orifices, he’s still making attempts to move, and we’re still getting reasonable respirations from him. So, for the time being, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic.

  ‘We’re lucky to have such a grey day out here. That means he hasn’t overheated, and we’ve been working hard to make sure he stays nice and cool and that the sand doesn’t abrade his skin. Our trench-diggers have been doing a good job, trying to free up some space around his chest so he can breathe easier, and we’ll continue with that until release time. So now I want to thank you all for your hard work. And I hope that’s all, because I need to get back to some monitoring.’

  Tim handed the loudspeaker back to Taylor, and for a long moment the crowd stood quiet, watching him walk back down the beach towards the whale. His dark head was bowed and there was weariness in his stride. Callista had never seen anybody look so lonely.

  Twenty-nine

  Lex was tired from lugging gear for hours. He and Jack Coffey had slipped into an easy camaraderie, mixing humorous stories and joke-telling with long comfortable silences as they slogged up and down the beach with endless loads of gear. Pack-horsing, they called it. Over the past hour they had been ferrying night-lighting equipment. They had shifted the gear without question, but they knew then that the whale might not be released by nightfall, and with increasing length of time there was a decreasing chance of success. They agreed that few of the volunteers understood the magnitude of the event they were involved in.

  When Coffey was off helping with other tasks, Lex had walked a few laps of the beach with Jordi. It felt strange striding along the sand with Callista’s brother. Beside him, Lex felt like a bear hulked into his Gore-Tex. Jordi was all fly-away bones, his scrawny bare legs poking out from beneath his battered oilskin and his beard puffing over his shoulder in the wind. But he had been affable enough, and it was obvious he wasn’t happy with events on the beach and the way the rescue was full steam ahead without discussing the option of euthanasia.

  Jordi had chewed the fat as they walked, gauging Lex’s opinions and then letting his own ideas slip. The whale shouldn’t be here, Jordi said. And they shouldn’t be interfering with it. Nature had already taken her course bringing the whale ashore. They should let it be, or finish it off quickly— although he understood there were complications with that. Killing whales wasn’t a straightforward task. All these people shouldn’t be here either. It annoyed him having to pussyfoot around them. The job belonged to National Parks and they should be allowed to get on with it.

  He also commented on the split in the town over the whale. Plenty wanted to see it rescued, like bitch Beryl and Helen Beck. But there were some surprises in the negative camp, including Mrs Jensen. Jordi had thought she’d be a right-to-lifer, for sure. But he’d heard rumours that Beryl and Mrs Jensen were clashing head-on in the coffee tent. Sue and John Watson were a bit ambivalent, but he reckoned Sue wouldn’t want to see the whale suffering, and once she got a break out of the sausage tent she’d be a dead-set convert to the negative camp. Watson, he said, was a bit of a cold fish and wouldn’t really be fussed which way it went. It’d be better for everyone, Jordi admitted, when the bulldozer got here and a bit of action could get under way. Everyone was going stir-crazy with standing around.

  It was the most Lex had ever heard Jordi say. He asked what Jimmy thought about it all, but Jordi clammed up then. All he’d say was that it was Jimmy’s job to appear neutral. Even if he wasn’t.

  Lex had just dumped another load beyond the cordon when he saw Darren Beck slipping around the back of the control tent. The kid must have dodged the Parks staff and was probably trying to get a better view of the whale.

  ‘Oi, Darren,’ he called. ‘Over here.’

  The boy looked back guiltily and slunk up like a naughty dog. Lex was surprised to see him on his own. Helen was usually so over-protective. In fact, it was surprising that she would have come here at all, especially on a Sunday. Lex hadn’t seen her among the crowd, so perhaps the kid had come along with Mrs Jensen. He put a hand on Darren’s head and wiggled his beanie.

  ‘How are you going?’ he asked.

  ‘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 reac
hed. 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.