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Whales Beaching In Record Numbers

By NOAH LEWIS

Scripps-Howard News Service

Vancouver Island, B.C.— More than eighty whale strandings have been documented over the last week on Vancouver Island's western (Pacific) coastline, with most beachings occurring between Sombrio Beach south to Rocky Point.  Among the stranded mammals were dozens of Grey whales and at least fifteen Orca.  Vacationers and other volunteers have been working around the clock to save the dying beasts, draping them with wet towels and pouring buckets of water over their skin to keep them moist.  Despite these efforts at least half the whales have perished, with more being euthanized every few hours.

Cory LaBranche, a local marine biologist and assistant director of the Juan de Fuca Standing Network, was baffled by the scope of the event.  "Mass whale strandings are not that unusual among sociable animals, and our coastlines contain a variety of coves, bays, channels and inlets that can sometimes disorient these creatures.  Still, this particular phenomenon seems entirely different as we're looking at not just one pod but dozens of pods covering a variety of species.  In the last seventy-two hours we've had to rescue Orca, Humpbacks, Greys, and Pacific White-Sided dolphin.  Last night, seven Humpbacks trapped themselves in the shallows along Anderson Cove in East Sooke.  That's all rocky shoreline, something these larger baleen whales almost never venture near.  We managed to two a few of the bigger adults into deeper water, but they were back in the cove less than an hour later.  It's frustrating."

Rising tides have helped volunteers push many of the Orca and dolphin into deeper water, but it remains to be seen whether any will survive.

*        *        *        *        *

Strait of Juan de Fuca

Pacific Ocean

16 Miles Southeast of East Sooke, British Columbia

22 Miles Northwest of Port Angeles, Washington

Named for the man mistakenly credited with discovering the passage in 1592, the Strait of Juan de Fuca is the body of saltwater, fifteen miles wide and more than sixty miles long, that separates the southern coastline of Vancouver Island from the northern shores of the state of Washington.  Teeming with marine life, the ocean-access tributary divides at its eastern end into the Georgia Strait before moving north along Vancouver Island into Puget Sound.

Darkness grips the waterway, the new moon remaining partially cloaked behind passing cumulus clouds.  Waves lap against rocky shoals.  A bell tolls on a distant ferry.

The black waters come to life, glowing a lime-green luminescence in the lunar light as the creature streaks just below the surface.  An ivory dorsal fin cuts the waves, the rest of the monster's body visible beneath its illuminating wake.

Night.  Time again for the big male to abandon the depths of its new found honey hole and feed.

*        *        *        *        *

Port Darwin, Northern Territory

Northern Australia

Darwin, the capital city of Australia's northern territory, is the major gateway between Southeast Asia and the land down under.  Named in honor of the English scientist and naturalist, Charles Darwin, who landed there in 1839, the port city maintains a harbor twice the size of Sydney's, and is one of the fastest growing capitals in the world.

At ten minutes after noon, the white Mercedes-Benz limousine arrives at the entrance to Pier 139 at Stokes Hill Wharf, releasing its two exhausted American VIPs.

"Dani, wake up, we're here."  Jonas Taylor nudges his daughter awake, then climbs out of the vehicle, his brain still fried from jet lag.

Jonas squints against the brilliant sunshine.  To his left is the Darwin Wharf Precinct, a dining and entertainment area overlooking the Timor Sea.  On his right, across a small channel, are berthed three luxury cruise liners.

Directly ahead, docked along the pier before him, past a gated entrance and two security guards lies the Spanish galleon, Neptune.

The reconstructed seventeenth-century warship is a sight to behold.  The wooden tall ship displaces over 1,000 tons, measures 203 feet from prow to stern, has a 54-foot-wide-beam, and carries over 50,000 square feet of sail.  With the canvas down, the ship's two bare main masts stretch high into the cloudless blue sky like giant crucifixes.

Jonas's heart races.  This should actually be fun.

Dani stumbles out of the car, hung over from traveling.  "I feel sick."

"You'll feel better after we eat and walk around a bit.  Come over here and check out this ship."

A golf cart motors down the pier toward them, Erik Hollander driving with one hand, waving with the other.  He screeches to a halt, nearly colliding with one of the security guards.

"There you are.  Welcome to Australia.  Long trip, huh?  Ah, but it'll be worth it.  Wait 'til you see the Neptune, she's really something.  Polanski didn't spare a dime when it came to the attention to details.  Took something like two thousand men two full years and more than eight million dollars to build her.  Costing us a bundle to lease her, but she's worth every penny.  Makes for great filler between stunts."

Dani squints at the ship.  "Are the Daredevils on board?"

"Not yet.  They're preparing for their grand entrance at sea.  We set sail in four hours, if my lousy soundman ever arrives."

"I was hoping you might be able to use Dani behind the scenes, you know, assisting the film crew . . . something to keep her busy."

"Behind the scenes?"  Erik laughs.  "Your daughter's eye-candy, Professor, and we can never have too much of that.  Dani, as soon as you get settled, come find me and I'll hook you up with wardrobe.  They'll pick out some nice bikinis, maybe a few after-hour numbers.  We'll pay you to be one of our Candy Girls, my pet name for our Daredevil groupies."

"Excellent."  Danielle's gloating smile tweaks her father's blood pressure.

"The crew will get your luggage.  Come with me, I'll give you a tour of the ship."

Jonas and Dani climb in the backseat of the golf cart.

Executing a U-turn that nearly tosses Jonas over the side of the pier, Erik accelerates the vehicle back toward the ship, pointing out the two galleries and their open-air balconies that occupy the above-water portion of the ship's stern.

The golf cart skids to a halt.  Jonas and his daughter follow the producer up the steep gangway, their eyes widening as they see the rest of the sailing ship.

The Neptune 's main deck is a beehive of activity, set among two contrasting periods of time.  Local workers load crates of supplies onto old-fashioned cargo nets attached to a modern-day crane.  Coils of rope for the sails lie side-by-side with spools of electrical cable.  Camera equipment leans against the mounts of fixed muskets.  Cargo nets of provisions are being lowered into the holds, directed by men speaking into cellular phones.

Erik raises both arms proudly.  "Incredible, isn't she?"

Dani looks disappointed.  "I was expecting a real yacht.  This is more like a pirate ship."

"Trust me, the Neptune 's more fun.  These galleons were military vessels, designed almost five centuries ago to replace Spain's oar-propelled galleys."  He points to the masts.  "Each of the masts are attached to the keel and rise up through the lower decks.  The central mast is the main, the other big one is called the foremast, and the smaller ones behind us are the—"

"—the lateen and mizzen masts."  Jonas points to a fifth mast, which rises at a 30-degree angle out of the bow.  "Don't forget the bowsprit."

Erik smiles.  "Forgot you were a Navy man."

"She looks like she's being refitted for your show.  Why take away so much of her character?"

"Had to.  We've got a big crew to feed, and most Hollywood types don't like roughing it.  God forbid they eat powdered eggs and instant coffee.  Most of it's behind-the-scenes stuff, backup generators, satellite hookups, although we did add underwater lights along the keel so we could film stunts at night."

Dani points to the cabin located at the end of the walkway above them.  "Who gets to sleep there?"

"Actually, I do.  That's the Captain's gallery.  You gotta see it, it looks like a real pirate captain's quarters.  Right below my stateroom is the Admiral's gallery, that's for Captain Robertson.  You'll meet him later.  Good guy.  American, like most of our crew."

"Where do we sleep?" Dani asks.

"Below.  There are four levels beneath us, just follow the companion ways.  The level just below the main deck houses your cabin, Professor, as well as the crew's quarters and the galley.  If you get lost, just look for the Neptune 's smaller cannon, the Pedrero.  On the next deck down are the bigger guns, the Culebruina.  Polanski commissioned working replicas; we're going to fire a few of them on the last day of shooting.  Should be wild.  Anyway, the Daredevils and Candy Girls occupy that second level.  Sickbay's down there too.  Fresh water, provisions, sails, and  the ship's stores are located on the third deck down.  The last deck is more of a narrow crawl space located just above the keel.  It was designed to hold the warship's powder kegs, but we'll use it for storage."

"I want to see my room," Dani says.

"Sure, Jonas?"

"You two go on ahead, I'll catch up."  Jonas leaves them, heading forward to where a stainless-steel shark cage is being assembled.  Seated on the capstan, working on an underwater camera, is a dark-haired, tan man, his hulking frame pressed beneath a sweat-soaked tee-shirt.

Jonas smiles at the familiar face.

Andrew Fox is in his early forties, athletic and introverted, an Australian native with a boyish charm.  The founder of the Fox Shark Research Foundation, he is also the son of filmmaker and legendary shark expert Rodney Fox, survivor of one of the most vicious Great White attacks on record.

"Andrew Fox, I should have known.  No ocean voyage would be complete with a Fox on board."

"Professor Jonas, as I live and breathe.  God, you're looking old.  Hey, I know some good hair dye that'll take that gray out in one washing."

"Some people say it makes me look smarter."

"Nah, they're just yanking your chain."  The two men embrace.

"How's your dad?"

"Same as always, still doing the tourist bit.  You ought to pop down to the museum when all this is over, the folks'll love to see you."

"Sure thing.  So, what's with the cages?  Didn't think these Daredevils would use them."

"Cages are for me and my crew.  I'm in charge of underwater photography.  Say, maybe you'll join me inside for a few action sequences."

"Maybe."

"I'll come!"  Dani approaches, suddenly invigorated.  "Erik said I could use a jet-ski once we leave port."

"Andrew, you remember my daughter."

"Sure, Hey, Dani.  Didn't expect to see you on board."

"Dad and I needed some bonding time."

Jonas smirks.  "She has a crush on one of the Daredevils."

"Oh, yeah?  Which one?  Not that Evan Stewart, I hope.  That boy's just plain crazy."

"His name's Wayne Ferguson.  He's Australian, too."

"Fergie?"  Andrew shoots Jonas a look.

Dani changes the subject.  "So Andrew, what do I have to do to join you in one of these shark cages?"

"You certified to dive?"

"Sure."

"Then it's up to your old man here.  As long as you're both comfortable—"

"Great.  Dad, Erik said to tell you your stateroom's one deck down, number eleven, next to the TV crew.  I'm bunking on the Daredevils' deck."

"The hell you are."

"Chill out.  I'll be with the models, the women have their own quarters.  It's like living in a big college dorm room."

"How would you know?"

"Don't start, we just got here.  Anyway, I gotta unpack.  Bye, Andrew."

Danielle waves, then hurries down the closest companionway.

Jonas shakes his head.  "I think I'm gonna need two bottles of that dye before this voyage is over."

*        *        *        *        *

Monterey, California

The law office of Kelsey Lynn Cretcher is located on Van Buren Street, a short walk from Fisherman's Wharf.

The blue-eyed attorney with the wire-framed glasses pokes her head out of a conference room and into the adjacent waiting area.  "Sorry to keep you, Terry.  The two of you can come in now."

Terry motions to David, who is lost in a Sony Walkman.  They follow the attorney into the conference room, a rectangular, walnut-paneled chamber adorned in framed certificates and degrees.

Seated behind an oval Formica conference table is an elderly African-American woman, her silver-gray hair pulled up in a tight bun.

"Charlene Holman, this is Masao's daughter, Terry Taylor, and her son, David.  Terry, Charlene is Athena's grandmother."

"Athena?"

"Atti.  She worked for your father."

"Oh, the uh—"

"Yes, the girl with cerebral palsy," the older woman says.  "Atti's the light of my life, Mrs. Taylor, and she was dedicated to your father and his work.  We're all very sorry to hear what happened."

"Thank you.  And yes, I know my father was very fond of Atti."

"More so than you think."  The attorney motions for Terry to take a seat.  "Terry, as part of your father's will, he bequeathed Athena a two-percent share of the equity in the sale of the Tanaka Lagoon."

Terry attempts to hide her surprise.  "Two percent?  I didn't know."

"The will was changed several months ago.  Anyway, from speaking with Patricia Pedrazzoli I know you want to close a deal rather quickly with the Dietsch Brothers, so I didn't want you to be caught off-guard.."

"Okay, fine, two percent."  She turns to the elderly woman.  "And how is Atti?"

"Not good.  She's in the hospital, been in shock since your father died.  Must've seen the whole thing.  Her doctors say she's suffering post-traumatic symptoms.  We're all praying she snaps out of it soon."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"She's always been such a strong child, so we're all a bit worried."

"Terry and I need to speak now, Charlene, but you have my number.  Call me the moment anything changes."  Kelsey Cretcher helps the elderly woman out of her chair.

"Nice to have met you, Mrs. Taylor."

"Yeah, you too.  Hope Atti feels better."

The attorney's smile fades the moment the door clicks shut.  "Sorry about that."

"Two percent, Jesus.  What the hell was he thinking?"

"He also left Twenty percent to David."

"That I knew."

David grins.  "Twenty percent.  Cool."

"David will have to sign off on any sale of the property.  Meanwhile I've been on the phone with the bank and insurance companies and frankly, the news isn't good.  Your father was deep in debt, he owed a lot of people a lot of money."

Terry feels her insides tightening.  "How much?"

"After the insurance money kicks in, we're still looking at fifty thousand in personal loans from the Dietsch Brothers, plus the balance of two mortgages on the facility.  You'll need to clear at least eighteen million from the sale of the property and any salvage just to break even, which is about a half-million less than what the Dietsch Brothers are offering."

Terry shakes her head in disbelief.  "Do you know how much money Jonas and I sunk into that money pit?  My father kept saying he was close to a deal, then nothing would materialize.  I should have never listened to him."  She sits back, her frustration mounting.  "Okay, Kelsey, now you know our financial situation, what do you suggest?"

The attorney takes a seat across from her.  "The way I see it, you have two choices.  Either we negotiate a better deal with the Dietsch Brothers, or file for bankruptcy, which will probably lead to the Dietsch Brothers eventually purchasing the property for pennies on the dollar anyway."

"Not much of a solution."

"At least it buys you some time."

"Time for what?  My father spent years trying to find another buyer.  He was desperate to sell."

"No he wasn't."  David removes his headphones.  "Grandpa never wanted to sell.  He loved the lagoon."

"Yes, David, I know that, but he also needed the money.  That's why he borrowed so much against it."

"He said it would be worth it when Angel returned."

Terry smiles nervously.  "Honey, Angel's gone for good."

"You don't know that.  Dad says big deepwater sharks like Angel can migrate tens of thousands of miles in one year.  He said the fact that Angel was raised in these waters makes it more likely that—"

"David, enough.  Angel's gone, and your father and I can't afford the upkeep on this facility anymore than your grandfather could."

"But Mom—"

"We're in debt and need to sell, David, end of story."

"All right already."  David returns the headphones to his ears, tuning her out.

Terry turns her attention back to the attorney.  "Contact Rodney Cotner.  Tell him we need to renegotiate the Dietsch Brothers' last offer.  Tell him my family needs to leave the table with something to show, or we'll tie the property up in the courts for years."