The Sound of Whales (11 page)

‘He's old enough. He's done it before. Right, Fraze?'

Fraser had taken the wheel of the
Moby Dick
on two occasions, both on calm, bright seas, for only a couple of minutes each time.

‘Sure,' he said hesitantly.

‘Come on, then. Let's find that daft brother of yours.'

The suddenness of the change in his fortunes was startling. Not only was Ben asking him back on board the
Moby Dick
, where he thought he'd never set foot again, but he was asking him to pilot the boat. And even if it was just to get them underway, it didn't matter, they were going sailing. He swung himself on to the ladder attached to the jetty and shimmied down on to the deck.

‘I'll see you when I get back,' Ben said to Sarah.

‘I don't think so. I'm staying right here.' Sarah smiled and said, ‘I like you, Ben, but I don't trust you.'

‘That's harsh.'

‘It's a persona you cultivate, so don't get offended.'

Ben smiled and turned to Fraser. ‘Right, Fraze, let's get underway. You're skipper now.'

He winked and Fraser could smell the whisky on his breath. As Fraser headed for the wheelhouse he heard a thump and turned to see Hayley sprawled on all fours, having jumped on to the deck. She pulled herself to her feet and rubbed the palms of her hands.

‘I'm not staying here by myself while you three go sailing into the sunset. And a second sober person is probably a good thing.'

Hayley's mother seemed about to argue the point but thought better of it. Ben opened the wheelhouse door and ushered them inside. As the four of them crowded inside the small wooden structure Ben took his place behind the wheel.

‘I thought Fraser was steering,' Sarah said.

‘How about I start her up and guide her out of the harbour.' He gave a half-smile and added, ‘If we sink here, it's not too far to swim to shore.'

Sarah said, ‘We don't need jokes, Ben, not those kinds of jokes, not when Dunny's out there in that little boat.'

‘Right enough,' was Ben's apologetic reply.

He started the engine of the
Moby Dick
and Fraser heard the familiar cough and splutter of aged pistons and rusty crankshafts. He had come to love this sound, for it heralded the swell of the ocean, the salty smell of deep water and the possibility of a fin or a spout that signalled a whale. He didn't hear batters and clangs and a boat engine that could quit at any moment and leave them bobbing helpless on a choppy sea.

Ben guided the lobster boat away from the harbour wall, out through the breach in the stones into open water. Fraser peered through the wheelhouse window and wondered how they would find Dunny, assuming he was out here.

‘So which direction are we heading, Fraze?' Ben asked.

Fraser hadn't a clue. How could he know which way his strange brother would paddle a small inflatable in search of whales?

‘North, I suppose.'

Ben offered him his place, said with a slight slur, ‘She's all yours, skipper.'

Fraser looked at the small circle of polished wood with spokes rubbed dull by the weathered palms of old fishermen. He peered ahead of him through the window at the rolling sea that was even blacker than the sky. It was his job now to steer this small boat through the giant ocean to find a tiny dinghy. His job to find a brother who couldn't, or rather wouldn't, shout out for rescue if a wave was taking him under.

He stood in front of the wheel and grasped the wood. He could feel the throb of the engine and the roll of the sea beneath his fingers.

It was his boat now.

CHAPTER 18

H
ayley peered through the wheelhouse window and saw only sea spray and whipping waves. If Dunny was in the water, she would never spot him from here. She looked at Fraser. His eyes were focused intently on the ocean and his knuckles were white where he gripped the wheel. He looked a little scared, but also older and more confident, and she conceded to herself that in any other place, in any other situation, she might like such a boy. But this was Fraser Dunbar, so the whole notion was ridiculous. She told herself again,
The whole notion is ridiculous
.

‘I can't see anything from here,' she declared. ‘I'm going outside.'

‘Stay where you are,' her mom said.

But Hayley had the advantage of righteous indignation. She had caught her mother and Ben McCaig
doing it
. Or if not
it
, then something else, definitely doing something.

‘We won't see Dunny from here. We need to be on the deck.'

‘The deck is dangerous. Tell her, Ben.'

Ben said, ‘There are life jackets behind you.'

‘Oh, that's a great help.'

‘They will be if you fall overboard.' Ben gave a tipsy smile.

Hayley grabbed a life jacket from the hook on the far wall. It was faded orange and stained from years of fishermen's armpits. She pulled it over her head and tugged open the wheelhouse door. She heard her mom say, ‘Well, I'm coming with you,' but she didn't wait.

Out on the deck the wind was so strong she felt a stab of panic as she pictured Dunny in his small rubber dingy. She moved unsteadily to the front of the boat as it dipped and rose in the swell. The deck sloped up at the bow and she grabbed hold of the rusty rail. The water beneath her was dark and choppy. She scanned the expanse of sea ahead but there was no sign of a small dinghy or a small boy. The worst thing would be to discover the dinghy but find it empty.

To her left the dark form of the cliffs loomed into view. Fraser was sailing the boat north along the coast to where they had spotted orcas the previous evening. They were heading towards Jonah and his cave.

‘Can you see him?' asked her mom.

For a moment Hayley thought her mom was asking about Jonah. She reminded herself that no one knew about him except Fraser, Dunny and her.

‘There's no sign of anything. No dinghy, no Dunny.'

‘That's maybe a good thing. Maybe he's not out here at all.'

Hayley stared at the water, sighed and said, ‘But you know he is, Mom.'

They stood in silence, each braced against the roll of the boat, pulling back their hair out of their eyes. Silence was simply the absence of speaking. The wind was moaning, the water slapped against the bow of the boat and the engine throbbed beneath their feet.

‘Should we talk?' her mom said at last.

‘There's nothing to talk about.'

‘I think there is.'

Hayley said nothing more, so her mom said, ‘Well, I'll talk and you listen.'

Hayley gripped the rail even tighter and tried to focus on the rolling waves but her vision was blurry. She willed the tears not to spill down her cheeks.

‘I'm sorry you saw what you did tonight. Things just happened between Ben and me. Things got a little out of control. Whisky and heartbreak are a lethal combination.'

They gazed out over the choppy waters.

‘I know you don't approve of Ben and me being together. To be honest I am not seeking your approval. But it would be nice to have your understanding.'

Hayley said, ‘What's to understand?'

‘You have to understand that I can't wait for ever for your father to come back to me. It's not going to happen.'

‘It might. You don't know that for sure.'

‘I do, honey.'

‘He might come back.'

‘He won't.' Sarah added quietly, ‘I don't want him back.'

Hayley felt a sob rupture in the back of her throat but she held her breath and let it escape slowly through her nose as she clenched her lips.

When it had passed she said, ‘How can you say that?'

‘Because it's the truth. Our marriage is over.'

‘You want Ben instead?'

‘I don't want Ben. Ben is just
 . . . 
me dipping my toe back in the water. He's a nice guy, a sexy guy, but he's not a replacement for your father. I don't want another husband. He's a bit of fun, that's all. Or at least he was going to be before you and Fraser interrupted.'

‘You mean nothing happened?'

‘No, nothing actually happened.'

‘But it will.'

Sarah sighed and said, ‘No, probably not. The moment has passed. This wind sobers you up.'

There was no more talk for a while. Hayley faced the wind and let it gust over her, felt a lifting of worries from her shoulders, as if the wind was catching something, if only the anger she felt towards her mom, anger that was selfish and irrational. Tonight had been whisky and cuddles, and maybe a little more, with another guy. Her dad had
set up home
with another woman. That was a world of difference.

And the island of Nin was a different world.

Hayley lifted one hand from the rail and placed it on top of her mom's where it gripped the rusty metal. They didn't look at each other, said nothing, but words were not necessary. They stood there, searching the ocean, and then there was a shout from the wheelhouse. It was Ben, leaning from the door.

‘Any sign?'

‘Still looking,' Sarah said above the wind. Ben disappeared back inside. ‘He doesn't trust Fraser in charge of his boat.'

‘Quite right,' said Hayley. ‘The boy is useless.'

‘That's a bit harsh. Fraser is smarter than you think. It's Ben that shouldn't be trusted.' Hayley's mom gave her a smile. ‘All men, in fact.'

‘Now
that's
harsh.'

‘Perhaps. But you stick with quiet Scottish laddies.'

‘No, thanks.'

‘He
is
kind of cute.'

‘I don't think so.
Ben
is cute. Fraser is just
 . . . 
just a boy. An island boy.'

‘He's a nice boy. You could be friends at least. You should make the effort to at least be friends.'

‘Maybe
 . . .
'

Hayley did a quick review of the last few days: exploring a ruined castle, discovering an African in a cave, watching orcas, finding a dead body. In all their exploits Fraser had been right there, with her. They had danced a Highland jig together, they had even kissed.

Oh, my God
, thought Hayley.
We're friends already
.

But there was no time to analyse that bombshell.

‘What's that over there?' her mom said.

She was pointing to the left of the boat at the stretch of water between them and the shore.

‘Where?' Hayley asked.

‘Right there.' Sarah was pointing frantically, as if jabbing her finger would help.

‘What do you see?'

‘I don't know. Is that a fin?'

Hayley looked again, scanned the ocean as the boat dipped and rose. The dark water was flecked with breaking whitecaps but there was one whitecap that remained when the other waves had broken. It was a white patch beneath a dark fin, the dorsal fin of an orca.

‘I see it,' Hayley cried. ‘That's a whale.'

Her mom leant out over the water, seemed to doubt herself now. ‘It's just a wave.'

But Hayley knew it was not. ‘It's an orca. I've seen them before.'

The fin disappeared beneath the water and the whole ocean was lost behind a wave that rolled under the boat and sent the
Moby Dick
down into a trough. When it rose again both the fin and the head of the whale could be seen clearly, the black and white standing out against the grey of the water, lit again by a full moon that appeared between scudding clouds.

‘My goodness, that's a killer whale,' said Sarah.

‘We call them orcas, Mom.'

‘Whatever it is, honey, it's swimming in front of our boat.' Sarah's fascination turned instantly to horror. ‘Oh, God, what if Dunny's close by? It could attack him.'

‘Orcas don't eat people,' Hayley said, and then wondered if that was true.

The whale circled as the boat moved closer and then it turned and pushed on, a surge of ocean slipping from its sleek back.

‘What's it doing?' Sarah asked.

A fancy came to Hayley that seemed ridiculous and yet made sense in this strange part of the world.

‘I think the whale wants us to follow it.'

CHAPTER 19

P
iloting a small boat in a growing storm was much harder than Fraser imagined. He wondered if he was turning the wheel or if the wheel was turning him. Each time the boat dipped into a trough he clung to the old wood and when it rose again to the crest of the wave he hung on even tighter.

Yet this was nothing compared to the stormy sea of two nights ago, the night when all the adventures began. He felt another surge of admiration for Ben McCaig's sailing prowess, wondered again why it wasn't Ben guiding the boat tonight. As if to answer the question, Ben moved unsteadily across the wheelhouse to stand beside him, the smell of whisky on his breath.

He laid a hand softly on the wheel, as he had done a hundred times already this evening, and nudged the boat slightly to starboard. ‘Just keep her pointing straight north,' he said. ‘Mind the compass there.'

The large compass was mounted on a plinth of oak, its magnetic arrow jittering left and right around the ornate N.

‘It's hard to keep her straight in these waves,' Fraser said.

‘A firm hold and a gentle touch is all you need.' Ben laughed. ‘That might work with Hayley as well.'

Fraser scowled slightly and asked, ‘Did it work for her mother?'

‘It might have done. We were somewhat interrupted.'

‘Aye, just as well. Besides, blame Dunny, not me.'

‘If we find him out here in my dinghy, I'll do just that.' Ben took a step away from the wheel. ‘And you have your own piece of madness to sort out.'

Fraser knew he was talking about the knife under the bed.

‘The girls are pointing,' Ben suddenly said. ‘They've spotted something.'

‘I can't see a thing.'

Ben lurched across the wheelhouse. ‘Didn't we promise to never go sailing again in a night-time storm?'

‘I'm sure we did. You promised Willie McGregor and I promised Mr Wallace.'

Ben grabbed an old telescope from a shelf, an ancient thing that might once have belonged to Columbus himself. He pulled open the door and a rush of wet air whistled in.

‘This isn't good,' he said. He stepped outside and the door slammed shut behind him.

Fraser was now truly skipper of the boat, sailing the
Moby Dick
alone as the wind blew and the seas rolled. All he had to do was keep heading straight north. Ben had assured him there were no hidden skerries to puncture the hull and little chance of a collision with any other vessel. The waves were not yet high enough to tip the boat over. All he had to avoid was running aground. Fraser looked through the window to his left. The shoreline and the cliffs behind the beach were a good way off. He glanced again at the compass, he looked at the bow, where Ben stood beside Hayley and her mother, all three staring ahead at the ocean, Ben through the lens of his antique telescope. If he needed it, help was close at hand.

This wasn't so hard. He could do this, sail the
Moby Dick
, be captain of the ship. He took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders, loosened the grip on the wheel. This was what he was born to do. He would sail the seven seas in search of whales and adventure and good-looking girls. Skulavaig was to the stern, the world ahead and he would remain behind the wheel of this small boat and not relinquish his hold until he was far across the ocean and squinting into a tropical sun.

And then Ben was beside him, demanding that he move and give him the wheel.

‘There are bloody orcas,' Ben said, his voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.

Fraser took a step back, his bubble burst. He was first mate again.

But the whales were back.

‘I was wrong to doubt you, Fraze.'

‘You saw them?'

Ben nodded. ‘We're following one. It's swimming ahead of us and Hayley thinks it's leading us somewhere. And I'm drunk enough to believe her.'

‘Leading us where?'

‘Where do you think?'

And then Fraser understood. ‘To Dunny?'

‘Go see for yourself.'

Fraser went to the door and stepped outside. He edged along the deck beside the wheelhouse, looked over at the sea and saw it froth. This was not an ocean for small dinghies and small boys. He moved towards the bow, staggering left then right as the boat pitched. Hayley and her mum clung to the rail.

‘It's an orca,' Hayley shouted above the whistling wind.

‘Ben told me. He's believes us now.'

‘It's leading us to Dunny.'

‘Or it's trying to escape us chasing it.'

‘No. It keeps circling round and waiting for us to catch up.'

Fraser scanned the ocean and the unmistakable form of an orca cut through the choppy water, its head lifted high as it seemed to check the location of the boat. Its dorsal fin was tall and straight: a mature male, the leader of the pack. It moved left of them, past the boat, but this time it didn't circle back round. It swam towards the shore.

‘It's changed direction,' Hayley said.

Her mom turned and indicated frantically to Ben in the wheelhouse. Fraser looked and Ben was grinning with his thumb up. He must be able to see the whale through the window. The
Moby Dick
arced to port.

For a couple of minutes the boat sailed slowly towards the coastline, the cliffs looming larger as they drew nearer. This was not a heading that could be maintained indefinitely. Orcas were intelligent creatures but Fraser doubted they understood about rocks and thin hulls.

‘Where are we going?' he shouted, as if he was asking the orca itself.

He searched the sea ahead and his question was answered. Bobbing in the waves like a flimsy piece of flotsam was the small dinghy. And sitting in it was his little brother, his white hair blowing in the wind. The oars were gone and he gripped tight to the sides of the small craft. Around the dinghy swam the orcas. It was an amazing sight. And crazy. What had possessed his brother to do such a thing? And what were the whales doing?

‘There he is,' screamed Hayley.

‘Are they attacking him?' Sarah asked.

‘No,' said Fraser. ‘They must just be curious. They won't harm him.'

But he heard doubt in his voice. What did he truly know about the predatory instincts of killer whales? They had that name for a reason.

Sarah ran back to the wheelhouse and a moment later the throb of the engine faded to a gentle put-put. The roll and pitch increased with the decline in forward motion.

‘What now?' Hayley asked.

The gap between boat and dinghy decreased. There were five orcas swimming beside Dunny, including the large male that had guided them here. The
Moby Dick
dwarfed the little rubber boat but Dunny had not looked up once or acknowledged their presence.

‘Dunny!' Fraser shouted.

His brother's eyes remained firmly on the whales, watching each one as it glided past. He seemed oblivious to the fact that the dinghy was being tossed around and water was sloshing over him.

‘What is he doing?' Hayley asked.

‘Dunny!'

And then, as if it wasn't remarkable enough that Dunny was adrift in a dinghy, at sea, in a storm, in a crowd of whales, then Fraser witnessed something truly astounding. One of the smaller whales swam right up to his brother, parallel with the dinghy, and seemed to pause, to hold itself alongside for a moment. Dunny relinquished his grip on the little boat with his right hand and reached out and touched the whale. He stroked the orca's back.

‘Did you see that?' Hayley cried. Fraser could only nod. ‘He patted that whale. Like a dog!'

‘I saw.'

Now it was Hayley's turn to shout, ‘Dunny!'

The gap between fishing boat and dinghy was only a dozen metres or so. They were looking down on the boy and Fraser feared they might run him over. The whales, aware of their approach, must have sensed that their time at the court of King Dunny was over, for one by one they slowly submerged under the choppy waves and were gone. Dunny was now just a little boy in a dinghy without oars being tossed in a stormy sea. He looked up and for the first time seemed to notice the lobster boat. He looked first at Hayley and then at his brother, and his face turned from a contented smile to one of frowning misery. His mouth opened and, though Fraser could hear nothing above the whistle of the wind, Dunny's lips seemed to form a word.

No
.

The boy stood up in the dinghy.

‘Don't stand up,' Hayley shouted.

But it was too late. The waves rolled under the dinghy, tipped the small boat over and Dunny fell into the sea.

As Fraser waited for his brother to appear from under the waves five seconds became a lifetime. And in the midst of the dread and panic and despair that welled up in him he asked himself: had Dunny fallen, or had he jumped?

His brother's head popped on to the surface and his arms were thrashing and splashing and he was gasping and coughing and spitting
 . . .

‘He's drowning!' Hayley said.

Fraser was struck immobile. There were orcas in the water with very large teeth. And if Dunny wasn't about to be eaten, he was surely about to drown. His brother was not a great swimmer. Fraser held on to the rail and watched his brother go under and then pop back up, go under again then pop back up. Fraser had to rescue him but his legs wouldn't work; he had to call for Ben but his tongue wouldn't shape the words; he had to move but his fingers wouldn't give up their grip on the rusty metal.

Why wasn't his dad here, why did
he
have to rescue his brother? He was only fourteen; he wasn't a whale scientist, he wasn't an explorer, he wasn't captain of the boat.

A movement at his side made him turn his head and he saw Hayley refastening her life jacket. Her jacket and boots and jumper lay in a pile on the deck. Then she climbed on top of the railing, took a deep breath and threw herself into the water.

There was a splash and a scream from the wheelhouse, and then only the rolling ocean, nothing more. The whales were gone. Dunny was gone. And Hayley was gone.