“I have quite a few contacts, many of whom aren’t registered on the site.” She rubbed her hands together in a no-nonsense, schoolteacherly way. “So, I suggest before we make haste, we pool our resources. I’ll put out a quick call to some of my colleagues to make sure they’re on the lookout. Birch—perhaps you can alert the rest of the network that there’s a missing whale? Marina, can you do whatever you young people do on social media? Make some noise? Is that the expression? We might be able to reach some passing boats or even fishing vessels.” Fran paused and turned to Rio. “And you, young man, have the most important role of all.”

Rio had been wondering what task Fran would assign him.

“You are our ears.”

33

Hurry

Just before dawn, the Spyhopper approached the harbor walls, beyond which the great ocean lay wreathed in darkness. Fran caught Rio’s eye and smiled tentatively, “Ready?” she asked him.

Rio thought of his mother and of the whale he was trying to rescue, and how the two of them had somehow become one being in his mind.

“Yes,” he said, feeling the words come up from deep inside of him. “I am.”

It would take them most of the day to reach the search zone. But, after about thirty minutes, during which Rio had been resting in the cabin, the engine suddenly cut out. What was happening? Why had they stopped? He scurried to the deck and found Birch and Marina sitting on the port side, bare feet dangling over the edge of the boat.

Birch didn’t speak but made space for Rio to sit on the other side of him. As he swung down between them, he rubbed his eyes. In the misty early morning light, the Spyhopper felt tiny, an expanse of water stretching in all directions around them with hardly a hint of land.

He was about to speak when he noticed father and daughter had their hands clasped in some kind of prayer.

“Dear ocean friends and creatures of the deep,” Birch murmured, “we ask that you protect us and guide us safely toward our destination. In return, we promise to look after you, honor you, and bestow respect on you at all times.”

Birch kept his eyes closed and then cupped some seawater in his hands and splashed it over his face. Marina followed suit, in a ritual she had obviously performed hundreds of times before, and so Rio reached into the water and did the same. The water was cool and sharp on his face, but it also removed any last hint of sleep. At once, his senses felt alert and poised for the day ahead.

“What was that?” he asked.

“It’s something I do each time I set sail on a long journey. An ancient maritime tradition passed on through the generations,” Birch explained. “Humans often think they’re the most powerful thing on earth. And quite often we are. But the ocean has been here long before we even arrived and will be here long after we leave. It’s always good to remember that.”