Dirk came up for air again and this time took off the facemask.
“Forty-five minutes,” he said, checking his watch. “They’ve hardly moved. Your turn.”
Matthew put the mask on and leaned over the side, one hand locked onto a nylon rope. The waves, small as they were, made it difficult to keep water out of his ears, and he soon lost most of the sounds from above the surface. Five meters below them in the silence, the whale and the diver seemed motionless, as if suspended in amber. Then Thorssen began stretching out his hand, so slowly that the movement seemed to erase all memory of it happening even as it occurred. It was hypnotic to watch and Matthew had to force himself to come up for air. He gasped, and pushed the mask up over his forehead so far it fell off. Penny’s Zodiac had moved next to theirs and she caught it before it sank.
“She’s way past her supposed limit,” Penny said.
“Mary thought she was an older whale. Greater maturity might allow greater capacity. Her inactivity might also allow her to stay down longer. Less activity should reduce the need for air.”
“Still seems way too long.” Dirk said. He fingered the camera bag and looked at his watch. “The Captain, at least, is going to have to come up soon. He should be close to bingo air in his tanks. Why didn’t he want me to take photographs?”
“For one thing,” Penny said, “it’s intrusive and the whales might’ve picked up on that,”
“How could they possibly know if I was taking pictures?”
“I didn’t say they would know.”
“He’s swimming away!” Matthew said, pointing to the injured calf now slowly moving away from the area. The young whale’s flukes fanned up and down as if bidding them a sad goodbye.
Matthew slipped the mask back on and leaned into the icy water. Slowly the dark form of the great whale was descending, but more like falling, into the depths. Thorssen followed her down but still barely seemed to move. They became faint shadows, then vanished.
Matthew came up for air.
“Could you see them?” Penny asked.
“Not anymore.”
“Then I think we should send someone else down,” Dirk said, and reached for the walkie-talkie.
“Look at the calf, though,” Penny said. “He’s swimming fairly well, considering how he looked a while ago.”
The young gray was now diving and rising. Two adults were escorting, but not supporting, him.
“The Captain’s running low on air,” Dirk said. “I really think I should call in help, just in case.”
“That’s not what he said to do,” Penny said.
“I know, but where is he?”
“Wait,” Matthew almost yelled. “There he is!”
Dirk and Penny turned to see Thorssen’s head rise above the water about fifty meters away. He pulled back his mask and took a few deep breaths. He floated for a while and then, in one movement, brought his mask and snorkel back down and started swimming their way. When he reached them, he undid his tanks and Matthew and Dirk hauled them into the Zodiac. Thorssen pulled and kicked out of the water and into Penny’s boat.
“What happened?” Dirk said.
“She started to sink. I followed but my tanks zeroed. Had to come up.”
“Was she still alive?” Penny asked.
“Barely moving and maybe just swaying in the currents. She began to lurch to one side before she fell…”
Thorssen’s voice dropped off, leaving silence for a moment.
“I’d guess it’s about a hundred and fifty meters deep here,” Dirk said, but Thorssen didn’t reply.
The other whales still lingered in the general area with, seemingly, no inclination to move on despite the fact they’d starve if they failed to reach their northern feeding grounds in time. As for the whale that had gone down, Matthew could not explain the color change, but he was certain that she was the same one he had first seen from the decks of the Eva Shay. He looked around. No sign of her and no reason to think there ever would be again.