Page 9 of Clive Cussler Desolation Code

“This has been exciting and terrifying all at the same time,” the man announced, raising his glass. “What happens next?”

“We follow the tug out to deeper waters and cut the whale free.”

“Hopefully,” Joe added from the command chair, “without getting crushed in the process.”

Chapter 4

As Kurt took a seat, Joe eased the throttle forward and turned the cabin cruiser away from the beach. The tugboat was making slow but steady progress toward the open waters of the bay. So far the whale wasn’t fighting them, seeming content to be back in the ocean.

Beach time was hard on whales. Their bodies had evolved to use the support of the water’s buoyancy. Stranded on land, they were slowly crushed by their own weight. Breathing became difficult; internal organs were compressed. Without the cool liquid around them, they overheated internally, dehydrated rapidly, and ended up with sunburn.

A blast of spray from the whale’s blowhole suggested it was refilling its lungs and reoxygenating its body.

“How far out do you want to tow him?” Joe asked.

“I was told the whale’s pronouns are she/her,” Kurt said. “And let’s go out for at least a full mile. It’s a female’s prerogative to change her mind, and I don’t want this one swimming right back to the shore.”

Joe called the tug on the radio and suggested they veer to the south, where the current would assist them. The turn was slow and smooth,but the whale seemed to sense the change. It began swinging its great rectangular head from side to side.

“Ah, this is exciting,” the man said, pouring more champagne. “Hopefully it won’t ram us like Moby Dick.”

“Hopefully not,” Kurt said. He turned back to Joe. “You couldn’t find a sober couple to barter with?”

Joe rolled his eyes, as if the question were ridiculous. “I was asking a stranger to let me use their boat while admitting there was a real possibility of it getting smashed by a fifty-ton whale. You try closing that deal without alcohol.”

Kurt laughed. “You got me there.”

Joe moved the boat in a little closer. The whale was now swinging her head from side to side. Lifting it up and smacking it down. Water flowing in and out of her mouth swirled white and red with foam and blood. More blood was coming from the tail, where the rope was digging into the whale’s skin, but it was nothing that wouldn’t heal.

With the whale getting agitated and dusk falling over the sea, Kurt knew they had run out of time. Freeing the whale would be dangerous enough without trying to do it in the dark.

“Radio the tugboat captain,” he said. “Tell him to shut down, drift with the current, and let out the line. It’s time to set this lady free.”

Joe made the call as Kurt moved to the stern of the boat and grabbed a boat hook, testing its weight and length. If things went as planned, all he would have to do is hook the line and pull the loop wider and wider, which would allow the whale to swim out of the rope’s grasp.

Across from them, the tugboat went to idle, and the line slackened. Thankfully the whale didn’t react.

“Get in closer,” Kurt said.

Joe maneuvered to a spot near the muscles that powered the tail.

“A little closer,” Kurt said.

Joe nudged the throttle and then cut it again while spinning the wheel opposite. With the burst of momentum and the rudder hard over, the bow turned away as the stern swung even nearer to the animal.

Kurt reached out with the boat hook and snagged the rope. Pulling it slowly, he enlarged the loop. The whale raised her tail as if to help, but then brought it down slowly, a lazy flap that did little more than swirl the water and push the cabin cruiser away.

Joe reversed back toward the animal and Kurt pulled on the rope again. “Ahead, slow.”

Joe nudged the throttle up and the cabin cruiser began to pull away from the big animal. The loop grew larger than the tail, but the whale refused to swim out of it.

“She’s still getting her strength back,” Joe said.

“Circle around behind her,” Kurt suggested. “We pull the rope off, and she can get underway when she’s ready.”

Joe guided the boat around the slowly flapping tail with caution. They were directly astern of the animal when disaster struck as a gray torpedo-shaped object raced under the boat and tried to take a bite out of the bleeding flukes.

“Shark!” Joe shouted.

---