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Nigel held his breath as if he could hold back the frantic beating of his heart. What do we do in the case of bad weather? Why not a swim!
The camera tapped his hand, and Nigel grabbed it, poking the underwater light. Pale blue water rose above him, deepening below to a fathomless depth.
Devi swept her arms to the side, gliding forward. To the other side, the mottled bulk of the whale hovered in the ocean's gloom, drifting flecks of silt and tiny creatures like stars in a sky between them. Just beyond the white boat's inverted structure bobbed and swayed. Two sets of legs kicked alongside, then one of them kicked off and dove under even as Devi rushed by.
Beneath the canopy with its poles and canvas, more legs. One set thrashed wildly, and the man who'd come from above intercepted, grappling with his companion to try to get them both out again from the tangle of ropes and debris from the fallen vessel.
Nigel saw it in bursts, like a series of snapshots: two men struggling toward the surface, Devi once more turned mermaid beneath the inverted boat as she found the captured man. Already, Nigel's chest strained, not because he didn't have the air, not because he hadn't been familiar with this depth for decades, but all for the pulsing terror that dwelt behind his eyes, urging him upward, toward the safety of the sky.
The whale's broad tail barely moved, an irregular patch of white. Another patch sliding by it, like a starfish that lost its hold. A hand.
Kicking hard, Nigel dove deeper. He reached ahead, thrusting with the last of his strength. The pale arm slipped along his fingers.
Nigel grabbed, digging into cold flesh. The other man twitched and shuddered, then a second hand flailed upward as if Nigel's touch revived him.
Wrapping an arm around the man's chest, still gripping his arm like a reluctant dance partner in the octopus's garden, Nigel kicked again, turning his body, guiding them both toward open air, away from the threshing of the capsized boat, where one man kicked in the water on the near side as well.
They burst to the surface, the young man thrashing and scrambling, trying to keep his head above water, above the waves—even above Nigel.
Devi surfaced nearby, hauling the tattooed man in a proper lifeguard's hold. A little blood trickled from his forehead. She took a breath, and her eyes met Nigel's. "You okay?"
Nigel gasped a breath and was pushed below again. He fought off the man he'd rescued, shoving the man away as he swallowed water. Something orange dropped to the water not far away, and Nigel grabbed for it: a life preserver.
Slapping the man she carried, Devi said, "Snap out of it, Jarhead!"
The Marine jerked and woke, peeling away from her, his glance at first wild, then he stroked at the water.
As Nigel's victim shoved him under again, Nigel brought the life preserver up between them. Its buoyancy rocked them apart, and the young man clung to it instead of him. Shoving him away—Nigel did have some instinct for self-preservation after all—he gripped the hull of the capsized vessel and gasped for breath, rain streaming down his face, harder by the minute. They needed to beat a hasty retreat, but not before they knew everyone was safe. "Anybody else down there?" Nigel shouted.
The Marine, treading water on his own now, called back, "6 total!"
Three here, two at the other side who'd come up promptly. That meant one unaccounted for, unless the pilot had gotten him free.
"The pilot went for him; lots of debris," Nigel said.
Taking a few careful breaths, Devi swung about, raking them with a glance, with a nod toward Nigel, confirming his safety, then she dove under again. He should join her. A few feet down toward the stern, a man with a scarred cheek flashed him a crooked grin. "That one's undersize. Maybe we oughta throw it back."
His breath if not his strength had recovered, but Nigel doubted any amount of recovery would bring his sense of humor round in that direction.
His rescuee bobbed a little further away, carried by the rising swells. Nigel turned from the boat, in a crawl that felt almost languid, going after the young man and grabbing one of the trailing straps of the vest. The young man lay in the water, one arm wrapped through the buoyancy vest as Nigel towed him back to their own boat. The Marine seemed fully capable; the scarred man's attitude had placed him a little lower in Nigel's priorities. Perhaps it was merely a jest among presumed friends, people who'd survived a startling and dangerous moment. Or perhaps the man was a wanker as he appeared to be.
Nigel's reaching hand stroked something smooth, slick and solid. He glanced ahead, his fingers stroking over Luna's powerful head as she rolled as if to glance coyly back at him. The young man on the other end of his line yelled and flailed again. Reluctantly, Nigel tugged them both away. The whale submerged again, a big wave rolling over her back, and they washed into the trough, finding Arryo's boat nosing toward them, another life vest bobbing nearby at the end of a rope. Nigel caught hold, grateful for the moment of rest, and certain it wouldn't last.
The Black man had already clambered aboard, sitting to port to balance the boat as the pilot and his other companion approached.
"Get over here, Gator," the Black man urged, beckoning them forward.
Devi surfaced a little way off. "Two on the other side. All present."
Thank God.
Since his surprise at finding the whale so close, the young man sagged back into the water, his lips distinctly blue and teeth chattering. Lad hadn't an ounce of fat from what Nigel could tell, and might've been poorly already when he went into the drink. "We need to get him aboard. He's already going hypothermic."
Treading water easily, the pilot tossed his hair from his face and scowled over at Nigel. "Joe's fine. Monty got clocked by the side rail when we went over."
At the rudder, Arryo said something under his breath, head shaking. His gaze shifted from them to the sky beyond, back to them. "Everyone, and quickly."
"Come on, do it!" the pilot shouted, then he stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply. From the other side of the flipped vessel, someone whistled back.
Devi swept toward Nigel and his victim as the pilot's companion swarmed aboard, staying low and careful as he moved to help balance the boat. Nigel followed the man aboard, turning back to receive the young man as Devi and the pilot helped to lift him toward the boat. Two more heads appeared, the Marine and the scarred man swimming toward them. The other men in the boat automatically shifted their positions as more people clambered aboard, moving to help or to get out of the way. Not quite such brazen idiots as they'd first appeared.
From his pack, Nigel fished a rescue blanket, and started bundling the young man—Joe—into it.
"See?" said the pilot as he climbed in. "Kid stopped shivering. He'll be fine." He put out a hand to help Devi. Instead, she braced on the side of the boat, and rocked herself out, the last one to emerge from the water.
"That's worse. It's a progression." Nigel kept hold of the kid.
"He's not warming up, he's losing strength," said the Marine. With a dark glance at his pilot, the Marine moved in close, adding his warmth to Nigel's.
Nigel turned toward Arryo, but before he could speak, no doubt to say something they already knew, their guide waved away his pointless words. "Si, to shore and fire. Vamonos!"
They had no way to get to the harbor now, but Nigel clung to the boat with one hand, Devi sinking down to the other side. Somehow, Arryo must find them safety. Luna's head sank downward, her great bulk efficiently diving. Her fluke swept from the water, then slid beneath in a graceful farewell.
Cutting a wide arc, they took a boost from the storm waves as they rushed toward the shore.