The Whale Under the Boat

Selin wanted one good photo of a whale. It was September, and this was the second whale-watching trip of the day. On the first trip, the whales stayed far away. Now she was standing at the front of the boat with her camera ready.

The boat was small: twelve passengers and one captain. Captain Rourke had a red beard and a quiet voice. "You can stand up and you can take pictures," he told them, "but you mustn't lean over the side."

For forty minutes, nothing happened. The engine was running slowly, almost without a sound. Then a long, dark shadow appeared under the water, next to the boat. It was longer than the boat, and it was moving slowly under them.

Suddenly the boat went up. It wasn't much, maybe twenty centimeters, but everyone felt it. A bottle of water fell off a seat. A little boy started to cry. The whale was right under them, and its back was touching the bottom of the boat.

"Everybody, sit down on the floor and don't move. She knows we're here, and she doesn't want to hurt us," said Captain Rourke. His voice was still quiet, but nobody argued.

Selin sat down on the wet floor. Her camera was in her hands, but she didn't lift it. She could only look at the huge gray back under the water, with white marks on it like old paint. It was close enough to touch, but she kept her hands on her knees.

Slowly, the boat came down again. The shadow moved away from them, toward the open sea. Captain Rourke reached for the key and turned off the engine. Nobody spoke. They could hear the waves against the boat and a seagull somewhere above them. Selin's camera stayed in her lap.

They waited. Then, far away, there was a loud sound like a giant breath, and a cloud of water went up into the air. Captain Rourke smiled, and only then did he start the engine again.