Hunting the Dragon (11 page)

Benny turned to Sarah and ordered, “Have her hauled out. If she passes a survey, we’ll make an offer.”

“Benny, our budget…We’re running short of money already,” Sarah protested.

The captain looked down at Chatter swimming alongside the seawall and said, “Talk to that dolphin about money. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

He started back along the seawall, then he paused and called back, “And you two are in charge of making that pea pod ready for sea.”

The burly captain hurried off, and Billy sensed that he had been given more than the job of having the boat inspected. He guessed that Benny was testing him, and if he did well, then the boat was his. He wondered if winning the captain’s respect would give him permission to get close to Sarah. Billy glanced at her and his stomach flip-flopped. He turned to Sarah and said, “Let’s check the boatyards and find a marine surveyor.”

“Uh, Billy? What exactly is a marine surveyor?”

“So, ah, boats and water stuff aren’t your usual line of work, right?”

“Hardly,” she said feeling put down. “I make videos—you know, documentary stuff.”

As they walked along the seawall for the inner harbor, Billy asked, “How come you’re hunting guys like Gandara with Benny Seeger?”

She began to talk about herself and her movie producer father, revealing more than she had ever intended. “My dad really knows how to make movies. He had me shooting Super 8 film when I was ten. Like some kids are forced to play Little League, my father insisted I learn to shoot and edit film, add a soundtrack, titles, and credits. When he’d project my films to his movie biz friends I used to feel sick. He wanted me to be a camera operator, to have a trade. And later on a director. So, here I am on
Salvador
with a film crew ready to tape a pirate tuna clipper killing dolphins that Benny can’t chase down.”

Billy asked, “How come you haven’t mentioned your mom?”

She took a breath, decided not to reveal the hurt and said, “She split from my father. It was a messy divorce. She’s independently wealthy for life now and lives in London.”

“Sort of what happened to my folks, except my dad’s dead and I don’t know where my mother is these days.”

With a surge of compassion Sarah reached out to Billy and hugged him. Despite her surprise at being so open, she found being with this innocent young man, with his wide surfer’s shoulders and peeling nose, refreshingly easy.
And he doesn’t want to use me to get close to my father.

Billy wanted to know more about her. “Why aren’t you working in the movie business now?”

“After finishing high school, I couldn’t decide if I should go to college, work as a camera operator, or find a job in some sort of environmental organization.”

“Like what’s environmental?”

“Sierra Club, Greenpeace, National Wildlife Federation, Sea Shepherd. So I went to work with my father raising money to send Benny out here.”

“He’s a radical guy.”

“He’s doing things that need to be done. And here I am.”

They walked on, talking about dolphins. It was safe talk, and she told him about swimming with Benny and being among the dolphins in the wild for the first time. “It was mind-blowing. After that, I really understood what Benny was trying to do.”

Billy glanced at Chatter and then found the nerve to ask Sarah what he desperately wanted to know. “You and Benny, are you two, ah…?”

“Together? Lord, no. He’s more than I could handle.”

With a grin, Billy said, “That clears the air.”

She gave him an inquiring glance, but his attention had shifted to the entrance of a large boatyard. By the office door a sign announced,
CHRIS CRABB—MARINE SURVEYOR
.

Later that afternoon, while Billy was having the Westsail hauled out for inspection, Sarah watched Benny load a digital videotape into a small Sony camcorder. He handed her the camera and said, “You might as well start teaching Billy how to shoot this. If he can get good stuff, we’ll get on the networks. And maybe I can sell some of it.”

“Hey, Benny. Fund-raising is my job, remember?”

“Okay. When you get back, raise enough for a chopper.”

“When are we going home?”

“If that kid can get the goods, and after I sink Gandara, we’ll head back.”

She looked through the viewfinder and framed it on Benny’s weathered face. Hesitantly, she said, “I’m not sure I want to be responsible for sending Billy after
Lucky Dragon
.”

“Nobody’s forcing him.”

“He almost got himself killed once.”

“If you have any doubts, you should have stayed home and played with the dolphins at SeaWorld.”

“They’re doing important research there, Benny.”

“Theoretical bullshit. Out here, the dolphins are free to do what they do.”

She resisted the urge to argue with him and said simply, “Tell me, Benny. What do dolphins do out here?”

His serious frown changed abruptly to a mischievous grin that told Sarah he was making peace with her. With utter sincerity, Benny said softly, “They do no harm….”

T
he sloop came down the ways and slid into the water with a massive splash. Billy stood in the Westsail’s cockpit holding a shroud to keep from falling overboard and yelled at Sarah, “All right! All right!”

She had refused to ride the boat into the harbor and remained on the dock looking at the freshly painted Westsail with its polished brass reflecting the harsh tropic sun. Chatter cruised beside the sloop and Billy reached out to pet her. Feeling left out, Sarah murmured to herself, “Boys and their toys.”

She glanced at the small waterproof aluminum camcorder case she held. “And I’ve got another toy for him.”

He started the engine. The little gasoline-powered Atomic Four sputtered to life. Billy put the boat alongside the seawall and helped her aboard. They motored on toward
Salvador
and Sarah remarked, “She seems seaworthy now. What’s next?”

“Next, we have to name her,” he said with a grin, as if he had a surprise waiting. “Got any ideas?”

“Since you’re the captain, what name would you like?”

“The
Sarah
.”

She felt herself blushing and impulsively reached out to hug him.

He moored the sloop behind the old minesweeper and she watched him drop the boat’s small inflatable dinghy over the side and tie it to the stern. She had no idea what he was doing. To cover her uncertainty about things nautical she went into the small, neat cabin to make coffee. Here was familiar territory. She had helped him paint the interior a bright, light-reflecting white, and had arranged to have the mattresses of the two narrow bunks recovered with new, bright orange cotton canvas. Sarah was surprised that such a confined space could be so functionally comfortable. Aft of the bunks, there was a small galley, and across from the stove, sink, and icebox were two padded benches with a table in between that sat four. The booth, Billy explained, also served as a flat surface to spread charts across.

Sarah ignited the propane gas stove and put a kettle on the burner. She had bought a small plastic filter cone, two hundred paper filters, and ten one-pound cans of coffee for the galley. No instant coffee for Billy. The cost of imported goods in Fiji was exorbitant, but she wanted Billy to have the best obtainable in Suva. She felt so guilty about spending the expedition’s funds, she had paid for the coffee with her own money. Sarah poured almost-boiling water through the grounds that dripped into two heavy mugs. I don’t even know how he likes it, she thought.

She stepped out of the cabin to ask him and peered over the stern. Billy had carefully painted the boat’s new name—her name—on the transom in flowing script, and was now drawing a pair of spouting dolphins to grace each end of the lettering. She was flattered and asked, “Do you want sugar or canned milk in your coffee?”

“I hate canned milk, and no to the sugar. Black’ll be fine.”

He gestured at his work with the brush. “What do you think?”

“You are an artist.”

“Some artist. The only painting I ever sold was of this boat.”

She ducked into the cabin and brought out the coffee and a tray of fresh scones from a Suva bakery. He climbed aboard, took the mug she offered, and they sat down in the cockpit. She watched him take a bite of scone and smile with appreciation. She smiled back, feeling at ease with him now. Without speaking, they moved closer and she allowed herself to lean against him.

Without warning, Chatter surged out of the water and hovered over them for an instant. Billy reached out to pet her. With his attention on Chatter, he spoke slowly, as if having trouble expressing his thoughts. “Killing all those dolphins to catch tuna. That really got to me. And I thought there were laws to protect them.”

“Those laws only apply to U.S.–owned boats. When American skippers used to fish down here they learned how to get them out of the nets, and they saved almost all of them.”

“They used to?”

“It’s difficult to guarantee dolphin-free tuna. So rather than risk potential fines and government hassle, they’re fishing in the central Pacific where dolphins don’t travel with tuna.”

“What about the embargo?”

“Some of the tuna packers are lobbying to do away with it. Captains like Gandara fish without restrictions, and sell to companies getting around the embargo. You saw him unloading at that cannery in Samoa. We can’t let it start again, Billy. And it won’t if people understand and refuse to buy tuna caught with dolphins.”

“Hell, people like their tuna salads and sandwiches. How do you reach them?”

She stood and entered the cabin. A moment later she returned and handed him the camcorder case. He opened it, lifted out the little Sony digital video camera and looked up at Sarah.

“You reach them, Billy, with gut-churning pictures of what it takes to put tuna in a can. You show bloody images of all those dolphins dying. And you film someone like Gandara killing them. Then you take that someone to court.”

He lifted a hand to slow her down and said, “Hold on. You’re sounding like a movie producer.”

“Yeah, my father taught me how to grab an audience.”

“And you need an airhead surfer like me to sail up to the net close enough to tape the slaughter before Benny rams ’em. Is that the game plan?”

“They won’t know it’s you.”

“What is this? Some sort of enviro–CIA operation?”

“It’s not about getting a tan and going surfing, Billy. And you said you wanted to get that guy.”

“I’m all for sinking him. But I’m not a crusader. That’s your game.”

“Billy, it’s not a game,” she said imploringly.

He turned away to look at the water. Chatter sensed his glance and swam closer to be petted. She clicked at him and lifted her head for his touch. For a long moment he looked at her, remembering the long ordeal they had shared.

He returned his attention to Sarah. She was so appealing, so unlike any girl he had ever known. And yet, he wasn’t sure he trusted her. Unable to keep his feelings hidden, he said, “And you and Benny have it planned so I’m to be the sacrificial lamb.”

She sipped coffee and said lightly, “I’d say you were more of a Billy goat.”

His somber mood changed abruptly. “Okay, you’ve got your goat. Chatter’s getting hungry, and there are no fish in the harbor, so let’s take her for a sail.”

Outside the harbor a brisk wind filled the sloop’s mainsail. The heavy keel kept the Westsail from heeling excessively, and her bow sliced through the choppy swells at a serene, comfortable speed. She was a joy to sail. Billy tested the self-steering vane and autopilot. Both worked properly. He could safely take short naps while the boat maintained a heading without him at the helm. He turned the wheel over to Sarah and went forward to raise the jib. He didn’t like the idea of standing on the foredeck in a blow taking down the battering, flapping sailcloth with no one at the helm.
Maybe I shouldn’t be sailing alone.

Holding the forestay, he looked down at Chatter, who had taken up a position in the bow wake. He yelled at the dolphin. “What do you think of the boat?”

She heard his voice, lunged out of the water, and raced ahead to leap and spin before falling back into the sea.

“Yeah, I like her, too,” he called out. Then Billy thought, But if I ever go over the side, and she sails on without me, I’m gone.

He turned to glance at Sarah, liking the way she stood relaxed and sure-footed gripping the wheel with the breeze ruffling her hair. He glanced back at the boat’s wake. The trail of bubbling white foam was straight. She was steering well. He joined her in the cockpit and said, “You’re doing great.”

“Benny taught me how.”

He pointed to an opening in the reef and said, “Let me show you how to bring her about. Then we’ll sail into the lagoon and snorkel for lobster.”

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“Some woman of the world you are,” he teased.

He was surprised she was so bashful. She wouldn’t go into the water until he had swum some distance away. Then she overcame her shyness, went down the boarding ladder with her back to him, and they swam together over the shallow lagoon. She followed behind as they flippered along, peering downward through diving masks, searching the coral forest for the waving feelers of spiny lobsters. He saw a likely-looking outcropping that might shelter one, drew in a lungful of air, and dove.

He looked under the coral. Far back in a narrow cave a pair of long tapered feelers twitched. The creature sensed him and backed into the recess beyond his reach. Billy was desperately hungry for air and he swam for the surface watching the outline of Sarah’s trim body framed by skylight from above. He laughed to himself and thought, I’m an underwater voyeur.

He burst into sunlight beside Sarah, startling her, and sucked in air to dive again. This time he spotted a lobster hiding in a crevice; it had no place to retreat. He shot his hand out and grabbed the top of its shell, the one area where its sharp spines wouldn’t puncture his skin. It was too small to keep, but he surfaced to show off his catch. He thrust it at her, teasing, testing her. She reached out and touched its antenna gingerly. Her hand went over its back and Billy released the lobster. They floated closer, studying the little crustacean. She turned it over to glance at its underside. The lobster suddenly flicked its powerful tail and shot from her hands. Before it had gone a yard, Chatter raced between them and crunched the spiny creature in her powerful jaws. They watched her quickly grind the lobster into a pulp of shell and flesh and swallow it in one gulp.

Billy looked at Sarah. Her eyes were wide. She spit out the snorkel and said with wonder, “Did you see that? Your Chatter really showed a vicious streak.”

“She’s hungry. What did you expect, love and kisses? And
we
put ’em in pots of boiling water, alive.”

He dove again, found another lobster, and tossed it into the sloop, saying, “One more, and we can have dinner.”

In shallower water where they could stand, he spotted another pair of antennae protruding out of a coral head. He led Sarah down, showed her the feelers, and pantomimed how she should grab the lobster. She reached for it, but the spiny creature shot out from the coral. Billy kicked after it and his flippers knocked off Sarah’s mask. He dove to retrieve her faceplate. At the same moment Sarah ducked under to grab the mask and they came into each other’s arms. Then Chatter’s hard beak thrust between them. With a toss of her head, the dolphin forced the couple apart and leaped out of the water with a burst of click-ticks as if scolding them.

Frightened from the surprise interruption, she shouted at Billy, “What is it between you two? Is she jealous?”

“She’s kind of possessive. I guess it’s because we’ve been through a lot together.”

When they were back aboard and toweling themselves dry, Sarah remarked, “I’ve read accounts of dolphins becoming romantically attracted to humans….”

“Look, all I know is that she saved my life, and I guess I saved hers. So let it go at that.”

Billy turned from her and walked to the bow to haul the anchor. On the deck the one lobster he had caught lay baking in the sun. As he picked it up, the animal flapped its spiked tail in protest. Seeing that Chatter was out of sight, he carefully released it into the sea.

Two days later Billy dropped into the cabin and returned to memorizing where each line, sail, and spare part was stored. There was a vast assortment of food, gear, and tools. In an emergency, and especially in the night, he would have to know where to find what he needed quickly. Benny had okayed every item on his shopping list, but Sarah questioned the need of the new Korean Goldstar twenty-nautical-mile-range radar that cost almost five thousand dollars installed and calibrated.

In every locker there were tins of corned beef, Spam, sardines, soups, stews, pineapple chunks, peach slices, jam, peanut butter, boxes of fast-cooking noodles, instant cereals, rice, soda crackers, bottles of sauces, fruit juices, dried fruit, granola bars, cookies, and a fifty-pound stalk of green bananas. There were two dozen coconuts, four mangos, and six papayas for the first few days at sea. Oranges and lemons would keep longer. In little cubbyholes he found assorted treats that Sarah had bought on impulse in Suva’s one supermarket. He muttered, “It’s like I was sailing around the world with a crew. I hope I won’t be at sea that long.”

He marveled at Sarah’s organizational ability. She had compiled the shopping list, noted where the supplies would be stored, and carefully stowed each item in every locker, shelf, and cabinet aboard. The little head forward of the vee-berths was so jammed with containers that there was hardly room to use the toilet. Billy thought, I might sink in a storm, but for sure I won’t starve to death.

He saw Sarah and Benny arriving. She was carrying a long rectangular carton wrapped in brown paper. He wondered what it was. Then Benny spoke to him and he forgot to ask.

“Billy, I just got an e-mail from Air New Zealand that the generator parts are coming in tomorrow. If they’re the right ones, we’ll pull out of here in a week, and probably be off Costa Rica a couple weeks before you arrive.”

He closed the engine cover and stood to face Captain Seeger. Benny put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it gently, and added, “If I don’t get a chance to see you in the morning before you sail, thanks, and good luck. And never doubt we’ll back you up all the way.”

“If I find Gandara, and if you get a chance to ram
Lucky Dragon
, aim for the stern. The crew sleeps forward.”

“I understand.”

“I want a promise, Benny.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s not good enough, Benny.”

“Okay, you have my word. See you, Billy.”

He walked off down the dock, shoulders square, as if he were on the bridge of
Salvador
. Billy thought, Hell of a guy, and a guy you could die or kill for. I hope to God it won’t come to that.

He turned to look for Sarah. She was sitting in the cockpit holding a chilled orange soda for him. Beside her was the long package wrapped in brown paper.

He took the soda and she shoved the package at him. “A present from Benny. Go ahead. Open it.”