White Dolphin (12 page)

Greg nods. ‘It’ll make her feel better. But I don’t think there’ll be much the vet can do.’

I feel my mouth go dry. ‘What d’you mean, not much she can do?’

Carl looks at Greg and then at me. He talks softly to try to break the news, but it makes no difference, the words are still the same. ‘These wounds are bad, Kara. She can’t catch fish like this and I doubt she could suckle from her mother. She would die if we let her back to sea.’

He reaches in the bag and pulls out a long clear tube.

‘You mean the vet will put her down?’ I say.

Carl looks up and nods. ‘I’m sorry, Kara. I don’t think she’ll have a choice.’

I stand up and back away from him. ‘But her mother’s waiting for her.’

Dad wraps his arms around me. ‘I know it’s hard, but Carl’s right. It’d be cruel to put her back into the sea.’

I push Dad’s hands away and glare at Carl.

Carl crouches down next to the white dolphin’s head and looks up at me. ‘You’ve done really well, Kara. Both you and Felix, you’ve done everything right.’

I scowl at him. ‘It’s made no difference.’

‘It has to her,’ he says. ‘She’s suffered less because of you.’

I watch Carl measure the stomach tube against the dolphin’s side, and slide it into her mouth. She shakes her head as it passes over her swollen tongue.

‘You’re hurting her,’ I say.

Carl doesn’t speak or take his eyes off the dolphin until the tube is pushed in place. He stands up and holds the bag of fluids high. I watch the level sink lower in the bag as the fluids pass through into her. I just stand and stare at him. I can’t believe it’s come to this, that there is nothing else they can do.

Carl glances at Greg. ‘Why don’t you take these guys back to the harbour? You can pick the vet up from there too when she arrives.’

‘I’m not leaving,’ I say.

Felix sits back and digs his hand deep in the sand. ‘I’m staying too.’

Carl presses his head against the bag of fluids. ‘You won’t want to stay.’

‘Come on, Kara,’ says Dad. He tucks his hand under my arm. ‘I think it’s for the best.’

‘You too, Felix,’ says Mr Andersen. ‘You’ve done all you can do.’

I pull away from Dad and kneel down beside the white dolphin and stroke her head. She watches me so closely, that I can’t help thinking she wants our help. I know she doesn’t want to die.

I look up at Carl. ‘There must be
something
we can do.’

Felix kneels down beside her too. ‘Why can’t we take her to a rescue centre, where they can look after her until she’s better? They do it in America.’

‘We don’t have Sea Life centres here,’ says Carl. ‘Even if we did, they might not take her because wild animals can pass on diseases to the captive ones.’

‘What about a swimming pool?’ says Felix. ‘Or one of those small inflatable pools you can buy?’

I nod. ‘Felix is right. There’s got to be something like that we could use.’

Carl drops the bag of fluids lower and sighs. ‘Look, kids, it’s no use. Even if we could use someone’s swimming pool, it wouldn’t be right for a dolphin. For a start a swimming pool is full of chemicals and has fresh water, not salt water. The water would need to be changed and filtered to get rid of waste. Forget it. We don’t have salt-water pools in this country. We don’t have anything like that.’

I jump up to my feet. ‘But we do, Carl.’ I almost shout the words out. ‘We have something
exactly
like that.’

‘
T
he Blue Pool?’ says Carl.

I nod. ‘You know: the tidal pool out towards the headland. It’s perfect. The sea washes over it and cleans it out twice a day.’

‘I don’t know,’ says Carl. ‘I mean, if the weather gets up, there can be big waves crashing over there. We can’t have rescuers putting their own lives at risk.’

I look up at the clear blue sky. ‘The forecast is good for this week,’ I say. ‘Please, Carl, we have to chance it.’

Carl looks at Greg and he shrugs his shoulders.

‘Seems like it’d be worth a go to me,’ says Mr Andersen.

‘We’ve got to try,’ says Felix.

Carl sighs. He gently slides the stomach tube out of the dolphin. It slithers out smeared with blood and slime.

‘I’ll radio the vet, see what she thinks.’

I watch Carl walk down the sloping beach to the rescue boat. I pick up scoopfuls of dry sand and let it trickle through my fingers. Carl speaks into the radio. I try to read his face, but all I see is him nod and frown. Felix crosses the fingers of his good hand and holds them up to me. I smile, but I don’t feel much hope inside. Carl is walking back towards us, his face grim and serious.

I jump up and brush the sand from my clothes. ‘What did she say?’

Carl shakes his head. ‘The vet thinks the stress of moving the dolphin may be too much.’

‘It’s her only chance,’ Felix blurts out.

‘I know,’ says Carl, ‘and the vet can’t get to us for at least another hour. Considering the injuries, she thinks it might be worth trying your plan and taking the dolphin to the tidal pool so she can assess it there.’

‘Thank you, Carl,’ I grin. ‘She’ll get better now. I know she will.’

Carl shakes his head. ‘She’s very sick. Don’t get your hopes up too much.’

Carl fetches a tarpaulin from the rescue boat and I help to slide the edges to the dolphin’s sides.

‘When we roll her on,’ instructs Carl, ‘watch out for her tail. Keep away from her blowhole too. Their breath can carry some nasty diseases.’

We all line up and put our hands on the dolphin’s back.

‘This is the risky part,’ says Carl. ‘Her lungs have been crushed by the weight of her own body. She could find it difficult to breathe.’

Carl nods the signal and we all push and tilt her to one side. Greg slides the tarpaulin under her and we roll her the other way and pull the sheet out straight beneath her. The dolphin lashes her tail against the sand. Already she seems stronger since the fluids. Her flippers and her tail have lost their deep blue colour, and gained a tinge of pink. Carl rubs Vaseline around her blowhole and spreads sun-block on her body as Greg wipes the tarpaulin clear of grit and sand.

I take a corner of the tarpaulin with Dad. The dolphin is much heavier than I thought she would be, and we struggle with her to the water’s edge. Greg pulls the rescue boat close up to the shore and we heave her in. She takes up most of the space inside the boat and the rest of us have to sit out on the rubber sides. I pull on a spare life jacket and cling on as Carl fires up the engines and takes the boat out of the cove into the wind and waves and sea.

The mother dolphin follows us, almost pressed against the boat, lifting her head above the water to see her calf. She whistles and clicks to her and slaps her tail down hard. I wonder what it is she is trying to say and if she understands what we are trying to do.

‘She’s injured too,’ I say.

Carl shades his eyes against the sun. A deep V-shaped notch is cut into the base of her dorsal fin. The edges are raw and congealed with blood. ‘I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks,’ he says. ‘It’s superficial. It should heal OK.’

He slows down as we enter the harbour walls. ‘I can’t take her to the tidal pool,’ he says. ‘There are too many rocks at low tide. We’ll have to take her across land from here.’

The mother dolphin follows us, her dorsal fin curving through the water as if she’s on a tow-rope right behind. She’s still with us, despite the smell of oil and diesel in the harbour, and the outboard engine roar that must echo under water between the walls.

The tide is low, and I feel the underside of the boat scrape on the mud and stones. Carl pulls up at the bottom of the slipway where the concrete is barnacled and green with weed and algae.

‘I’ll get my pickup truck,’ says Greg. ‘We’ll drive her across to the Blue Pool.’

Carl nods. He wets a cloth and lets the water trickle across the white dolphin’s back. The mother dolphin surfaces in the deeper water and blasts a breath of air. The white dolphin copies her, the
pfwhooosh
of their breaths calling each other, letting each other know they are still there.

‘How will she know where we’re taking her calf?’ I ask Carl.

He shrugs his shoulders. ‘That’s why this might not be a good idea. The separation stress could be too much for her.’

I see Greg’s truck reversing down the slipway. Two other Marine Life rescue volunteers jog alongside. Greg slams his driver’s door and unhooks the tailgate of the pickup. ‘The vet’s waiting at the tidal pool for us,’ he says. ‘There are other volunteers there too.’

‘Good,’ nods Carl. ‘Let’s get her there.’

Carl helps Felix climb out of the boat and I join Felix on the slipway. We stand back to let the rescue volunteers lift the white dolphin up into the truck. She lies on foam mattresses sandwiched between Greg’s crab pots and folded nets.

Carl turns to Dad and Mr Andersen, and nods in our direction. ‘I think you should take these kids home,’ he says. ‘They both need to get warm and dry.’

‘I’m fine,’ I say. I tuck my hands under my armpits to warm them up and hide the blueness of my fingers. My feet are numb with cold.

‘I’m fine too,’ says Felix.

Mr Andersen puts his arm around Felix. ‘Look at you. You’re shivering. You’re freezing cold.’

I put my foot on the tow bar. I want to climb up beside the white dolphin and go with her to the tidal pool. ‘I’ve got to come with you, Carl,’ I say.

Carl puts his hand across to stop me. ‘Not this time,’ he says. ‘The vet will need time to assess her and make her decision.’

‘I have to come.’

Carl hauls himself up beside the white dolphin. ‘I’ll ring your dad tonight. I’ll let you know what happens.’

Greg revs the truck and the white dolphin thrashes her tail and blasts air through her blowhole.

I hold on to the tailgate. ‘Don’t let her die, Carl. Please don’t let the vet put her down.’

Carl looks down and shakes his head. ‘It won’t be up to me, Kara.’

I put my hands on the dolphin’s face and look into her eye. But she looks beyond me to her mother and the blue curve of the horizon far beyond the harbour walls.

Carl pulls on my hands. ‘Let go, Kara.’

I lift my hands and watch the truck drive up the slipway and disappear into the traffic along the harbour road.

I hate it. I hate them taking her away from her mother like this. I feel as if I’m betraying her somehow.

It feels worse than letting her take her chances in the sea.

D
aisy spreads a white bun thickly with jam. ‘Are we going to see the dolphin?’

I put my fingers to my lips. Aunt Bev is making a pot of tea. ‘We’ll have to go now,’ I whisper, ‘before school.’

Daisy nods and bolts down her roll.

Last night she sat wide-eyed while I told her all about the dolphin. She’d scowled when I told her Felix had been there to help too. I told her that he was all right really, that he’d been angry the day we’d met him in the café. But it didn’t seem to matter what I said about Felix. Daisy’s made her mind up about him already.

I sling my schoolbag over my shoulder and wait for Daisy by the door.

Aunt Bev narrows her eyes at me. ‘You’re off early.’

‘Got some homework to hand in,’ I say.

She stares hard at me and Daisy. ‘You’re not planning on seeing that dolphin, are you?’

I shrug my shoulders. ‘What dolphin?’ I glance at Daisy, but she’s turned bright red and is staring at the floor.

Aunt Bev folds her arms. ‘The one Jim was talking about on the phone, after you two had gone to bed.’

‘What did he say?’

‘I don’t know,’ says Aunt Bev. ‘I didn’t hear all of it.’

‘I just want to know if it’s all right,’ I say.

‘You’re both going straight to school. You’ve been in enough trouble as it is and I don’t want Daisy in trouble too.’ She grabs her handbag and the door keys. ‘In fact, I’ll walk you there myself.’

There’s no point arguing with her. Dad’s on an early shift at work so I can’t ask him.

All the way to school I try to catch glimpses of the headland, but the tidal pool is tucked away below the cliffs and out of sight. Greg’s pickup truck is parked in the headland car park, so all I can do is hope that means that Greg and Carl are there and that the dolphin is still alive.