Dolphin Island

He remembered how he had first glimpsed Dolphin Island, in circumstances which were so similar—yet so different. It had been like a small cloud on the horizon, trembling in the heat haze. What he was approaching now was no island but a vast continent with a coastline thousands of miles long. Even the worst navigator could hardly miss such a target—and he had two of the best. He had not the slightest worry on this score, but he was getting a little impatient.

His first glimpse of the coast came when an unusually large roller lifted the surfboard. He glanced up, without thinking, when he was poised for a moment on the crest of the wave. And there, far ahead, was a line of white, stretching the full length of the horizon…

His breath caught in his throat, and he felt the blood pounding in his cheeks. Only an hour or two away was safety for himself and help for the Professor. His long sleigh ride across the ocean was nearly over.

Thirty minutes later, a bigger wave gave him a better view of the coast ahead. And then he knew that the sea had not yet finished playing with him; his worst ordeal was still to come.

Chapter 21

The hurricane had passed two days ago, but the sea still remembered it. As he neared the coast, Johnny could make out individual trees and houses, and the faint blue humps of the inland hills. He also saw and heard the tremendous waves ahead. Their thunder filled the air; all along the coast, from north to south, white-capped mountains were moving against the land. The great waves were breaking a thousand feet out, as they hit the shelving beach. Like a man tripping and falling, they gained speed as they toppled, and when they finally crashed, they left behind them smoking clouds of spray. Johnny looked in vain for a break somewhere along those moving, thundering walls of water. But as far as he could see—and when he stood up on the board, he could see for miles—the whole coastline was the same. He might waste hours hunting along it for sheltered bays or river mouths where he could make a safe landfall. It would be best to go straight through, and to do it quickly before he lost his nerve.

He had with him the tool for the job, but he had never used it. The hard, flat coral so close to shore made surf-riding impossible at Dolphin Island; there was no gentle underwater slope up which the breakers could come rolling into land. But Mick had often talked enthusiastically to him about the technique of “catching a wave,” and it did not sound too difficult. You waited out where the waves were beginning to break, then paddled like mad when you saw one coming up behind you. Then all you had to do was to hang onto the board and pray that you wouldn’t get dumped. The wave would do the rest.

Yes, it sounded simple enough—but could he manage it? He remembered that silly joke: “Can you play the violin?”

“I don’t know—I’ve never tried.” Failure here could have much more serious consequences than a few sour notes.

Half a mile from land, he gave Susie the signal to halt and unbuckled her harness. Then, very reluctantly, he cut the traces away from the board; it would not do to have them whipping around him when he went barreling through the surf. He had put a lot of work into that harness, and hated to throw it away. But he remembered Professor Kazan’s remark: “Equipment can always be replaced.” It was a source of danger now, and it would have to go.

The two dolphins still swam beside him as he paddled toward the shore, kicking the board along with his flippered feet, but there was nothing they could do to help him now. Johnny wondered if, superb swimmers though they were, they could even help themselves in the boiling maelstrom ahead. Dolphins were often stranded on beaches such as this, and he did not want Susie and Sputnik to run that risk.

This looked a good place to go in: the breakers were running parallel to the beach without any confusing cross-patterns of reflected waves. And there were people here, watching the surf from the tops of some low sand dunes. Perhaps they had seen him already; in any case, they would be able to help him to get ashore.

He stood up on the board and waved vigorously—no easy feat on such an unstable platform. Yes, they’d seen him; those distant figures had suddenly become agitated, and several were pointing in his direction.

Then Johnny noticed something that did not make him at all happy. Up there on the dunes were at least a dozen surfboards, some resting on trailers, some stuck upright in the sand. All those boards on land—and not a single one in the sea! Johnny knew, for Mick had told him often enough, that the Australians were the best swimmers and surfers in the world. There they were, waiting hopefully with all their gear, but they knew better than to try anything in this sea. It was not an encouraging sight for someone about to attempt his first shoot.