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Arryo piloted their craft out of the harbor, then turned south along the coastline. "These mangroves, they give protection for the coast, to keep the beaches." He indicated the dense stands of compact trees with their glossy green leaves. "Lagoons, too, absorb the impact of storms like this."
"The coastal ecosystem may look familiar to my US viewers who've ever vacationed or lived in Florida. Mangrove swamps not only defend the coastline, but their roots provide shelter for numerous species to lay eggs or rear young. Several different kinds of shark, for instance, rely on groves like these," Nigel told the camera. He'd deployed both straps to keep his adventure hat on his head as the wind picked up.
Devi, on the other side of the camera, let her hair fly out behind her in dark ribbons from the band meant to restrain it. She lifted her chin a little. "We're not the only ones out here."
Arryo gave a single nod, and Nigel saw the glint of a white boat zipping along in the gap between the choppy sea and the stormy sky. Sunlight reached through there, a slice of glowing heaven, and he directed Devi to capture the mood, the excitement of the rising weather, and the daring vessel racing the wind. Better if it were a sailboat, but none of those were quite to his level of madness in the face of oncoming weather. The other captain's bravado would make a nice little moment.
With a smooth turn, cutting the waves, Arryo paralleled the other boat. "The whales are more at other times of year, during the winter when they come here to raise their own young, but I think we may see someone."
"Some...one? What do you mean?"
Scanning the water, Arryo explained, "We think maybe are sixteen thousand gray whales in the world—many more than the nineteen fifties, when they might be almost extinct. They are not considered endangered since 1994, but with the climate, with the rising boat traffic..." he shrugged. "The numbers of whales falls, even in the last few years."
"I've heard there are more strandings," Nigel said, "but we've still got no idea what causes them."
Arryo nodded and seemed about to speak, then he straightened up, and a curious light gleamed in his eye as he stared ahead, searching the water.
The winds shifted, chilling Nigel's face and hands. He reached for his pack, only to find Devi holding a jacket out to him, her eye still on the camera's viewfinder. He slipped on the jacket and rubbed his hands together.
"What do you see, Arryo?" Nigel asked softly. "What are you looking for?"
"Before a storm, sometimes the ocean is disturbed." His voice had fallen low, and Nigel moved closer. Devi zoomed in on Arryo's face.
"This can bring the whales, and here you see her!" He pointed to the span of water between their boat and the white one. The waves shifted and parted, then the broad, mottled gray back of a whale broke the surface in a slow rise, gradually sinking again.
Nigel caught the gunnel, leaning out. After a moment, the whale rose again, closer to them and angled toward their path. Arryo cut back on the throttle, letting the boat idle. Gray-blue water bounced, capturing diamonds of sunshine, but the light rapidly faded. They ought to go to shore soon, but he gazed into the water, scanning the surface, hoping.
A shadow rose not far away, then a huge head thrust from the water, a dark eye rolling. Nigel caught his breath, his hands aching from clinging so tight. The whale's mouth hung slightly open, revealing a hint of the baleen within. For a moment, it hovered there in the water, then glided back under the surface with a ripple of a long, finless back, then a few knobs as it sank down again.
It must be twice the length of their boat, a giant moving as gracefully through the water as a dancer across the ballroom. The water glistened as the whale vanished again.
"She's not done yet. She'll come again," Arryo murmured. "Maybe closer."
Nigel gazed after her. "She's beautiful."
"How do you know it's female?" Devi asked.
"These knobs—"Arryo made a fist of his hand and pointed to his knuckles—"and the white around the dorsal hump, where there is no fin, si?"
"That's how you can determine gender?" Nigel didn't take his eyes away from the water, waiting. The sound of the other boat's engine rose along with the wind. Bits of water struck his hands. Sea spray, or rain drops?
Arryo laughed. "No, no, it's how we know her. This is Luna." He gave a grand gesture as the whale rose majestically, the dark shadow coming higher, higher. "She is born here in the lagoon four years ago. Another year or two, she will have her own calves."
"Ah. A teenager." Nigel's hand spread toward the water as Luna surfaced not three feet away, her gray and white skin sheened with water and specked with barnacles.
The boat rolled sharply, and he glanced up, finding the white vessel quite close now, pulling up from a fast approach, its wake pushing Arryo's smaller vessel. On the white boat, three men came to the side, staring down at the whale. A Black man lay along the sharp bow, binoculars in hand. The boat's pilot, a white man with a powerful physique and a mane of ruddy-brown hair, laughed. "Told you, Monty."
"Yeah, okay, Gator," said one of the men at the rail as he straightened up. "I owe you a beer. Be careful, though." He flicked a salute toward Arryo's boat with a tip of his chin. The classic lantern-jaw of an old-school comic book hero, and a crooked smile in warm-beige skin. A tattooed anchor and eagle showed on the man's bicep. Wonder how Devi took that, one of her kindred Marines so close at hand. If she noticed, she revealed nothing, save perhaps a similar pinch of annoyance at the men's intrusion.
Between them, the whale blew out a breath. Nigel felt the same. They'd been enjoying a moment, him and this greater mammal, only to be interrupted by the wild behavior of the other boatmen. It seemed uncivil to say so, but he wished they would go. Six big men in a boat, likely a construction crew or party gang, looking to have some fun in a land still known as lawless.
Ignoring the other boat, Nigel returned his attention to Luna who swam slowly alongside, dwarfing both vessels. He panned down her body with the handheld camera tethered to his wrist, capturing every inch of her as if he could truly capture this moment and deliver it to every one of his viewers who'd never make it here. See, hear, know how very wide the world, and what might be our place within it. Luna blew out another breath, a stream of droplets reflecting the failing sun and the tiny people in their insignificant craft.
"She'll dive soon. She may be down as many as fifteen minutes," Arryo told his passengers, but his eye fixed upon the other boat. "They are often close to shore like this, and curious about little boats like ours."
"Don't scare easy, do they," mused one of the other men at the rail. "Whale didn't bat an eye."
"Cool. Let's go again." The pilot waved and throttled up, spinning his wheel.
"Hey," Arryo called, but the white boat was already racing away.
Arryo settled back, his hand on the motor's tiller, his eye tracking the other boat.
Nigel gazed toward the water, the enormous being who floated so nearby, at ease with them. Trusting and beautiful. Luna's gleaming black eye drew him in, and the camera felt meaningless in his hand as he stared into the void of another creature's vision.
At last, the whale tipped downward, showing her "knuckles" again, then sinking beneath the water with her tail briefly rising, then gliding under the waves.
Fifteen minutes, perhaps, then they could see her again. Nigel straightened on his seat and faced their guide. "Gracias, Arryo. Thank you from the bottom of my heart." He touched his breast. "That was...magnificent."
"First time seeing a whale?" Devi asked.
He nodded faintly, still feeling the heavy weight of that deep, black eye staring back at him.
"How many languages do you speak, how many countries have you been to, and you've never seen a whale."
Nigel mock-scowled. "I am generally traveling for the cultures, and I sometimes forget that not all of them are human."
Her face alongside the larger camera, Devi quirked a smile, as if she knew she'd just taken their "hero shot" for the episode. Well. Could be another one would come along. And who thought of calling it a "hero shot" in any case? As if there were anything heroic in striking a pose.
At the tiller, Arryo regarded him for a long moment, an appraising stare as if he searched for something within Nigel himself, not unlike the whale's weighty consideration. Long enough that Nigel, used to being the center of attention, began to feel a bit uncomfortable. Years of practice not flinching in the face of the startling at last paid off, and Nigel sat mostly at ease, his mind drifting with the great whale who had privileged him with a look.
Finally, the man said, "I will show you the turtle."
Something in the man's face and voice conveyed the honor of this remark, and Nigel said, "Thank you." He paused a moment to underscore his gratitude. "May I ask, Arryo, why is the turtle of such great importance?"
"The story my mother tells you, about the wreck. The story is true."
Devi raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Nigel brought his fingertips together. "I am somewhat familiar with the pirate history hereabouts, but I take it your meaning is more specific than that."
Arryo glanced after the departing white boat as if to be sure it had gone out of range. "The turtle shell carries the map. It shows where the wreck may be found."
Nigel absorbed that information, but Devi observed, "You haven't gone there yet?"
Scratching his beard, Arryo regarded her sidelong, then smiled. "First. I don't know where the map begins. Second—"he lifted his hand to the lowering sky. "It takes a storm like this to clear the sand. Even if I go there, yesterday, I will find nothing. But tomorrow?" He tilted his hand one way, then the other.
"In that case," Nigel returned the smile, "bring on the storm."