Read Online Hunting the Dragon by Peter Dixon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Peter Dixon
Tags: Fiction - Young Adult
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the landing to send them climbing high over the clipper. In an excited voice he yelled into the mike, “Got a flock of birds five, six miles off the bow. Could be a school, Santos!”
Billy heard doubt in the mate’s voice: “Come on, Mr. Lessing. You’ve been drinking or something.”
“Tell the captain I’m checking ’em out and to get ready to make a set.”
Moments later they were flying over a flock of white-winged birds that Billy guessed were seagulls or terns. Below them, misty spouts of vapor shot from the blowholes of several hundred leaping spinner dolphins. Deeper yet, swift-moving fishlike images flashed.
Arnold dove at the pod of dolphins and pointed downward. “See ’em down there below the dolphins, glistening, fat with oil and ready for the cannery. Cannery, hell, we’re so close to Samoa we can sell those guys fresh! Big market for fresh or frozen tuna now…they sell it as Hawaiian ahi—twenty bucks a pound in Tokyo! Hot damn, Billy boy, you’re going see some yellowfin caught today.”
He turned away, keyed the radio, and gave Santos the heading. From under his seat Arnold pulled out a beer and popped the tab one-handed. He drained half the can as he brought the chopper down on the landing pad and said, “Dolphin stew tonight, Billy.”
“You gotta be kidding.”
The pilot ignored his comment, took another swig and said, “I’ve done my work today, and you, little buddy, are about to start yours.”
He jabbed a finger in the direction of the clipper’s stern. Billy looked down and saw Rocha standing in the skiff waving them down. “Your San Pedro ex–gang member is waiting for you. And when you get to know him, he’s an okay guy.”
The chopper touched gently on the bridge and two crewmen sprang to secure metal hold-down clips to the landing skids. As the rotor slowed, Billy called to Arnold, “Thanks for the ride,” and jumped out to race for the skiff.
The captain stood beside Santos, who peered through the 20-power Steiner binoculars focusing on the birds that dipped and dove over the fast-moving spinner dolphins. Gandara was surprised to come upon a pod and its associated tuna where none were expected. He was sure now he would order a set, but he wanted the mate to commit himself, so if he was wrong, and the time they wasted was for nothing, he could dump the responsibility on Santos’s back. At last the mate looked up and said, “Looks good, captain.”
“Are you sure?”
The mate picked up the bridge phone and called the lookout in the crow’s nest. “What’s it look like to you?”
“It’s a so-so pod, and I can see fish below. Tell the captain we got tuna.”
“I’m sure, captain,” said Santos.
Gandara called into the bridge, “What heading is Salvador on now?”
The radar operator answered, “Still north, captain, and almost off the scope. On a heading for Fiji, I’d guess.”
“If she changes direction, let me know immediately.”
“Aye, sir.”
He considered the problems that would arise if Salvador came upon them while making a set. He was tempted to ignore the fish, but they were so close to the cannery, and the price for fresh tuna had never been higher. He made his decision and said calmly, “You may order the set now, Santos. And may God smile on our ship.”
The mate reached for a large black button and pressed it three times. The klaxon’s insistent blast resounded in every corner of the vessel, sending a shock of anticipation throughout the crew. As the horn’s insistent note died, Gandara picked up the bridge phone and turned the switch that would carry his orders over the ship’s loudspeakers.
Gandara glanced over the side to watch the dolphins leaping and spinning effortlessly as they raced away from Lucky Drag on . Some of the bolder juveniles had forgotten they were being chased and had fallen back to ride the white tumbling wake cascading off Lucky Dragon ’s bow. He watched them play, admiring their acrobatic grace,
Billy heard doubt in the mate’s voice: “Come on, Mr. Lessing. You’ve been drinking or something.”
“Tell the captain I’m checking ’em out and to get ready to make a set.”
Moments later they were flying over a flock of white-winged birds that Billy guessed were seagulls or terns. Below them, misty spouts of vapor shot from the blowholes of several hundred leaping spinner dolphins. Deeper yet, swift-moving fishlike images flashed.
Arnold dove at the pod of dolphins and pointed downward. “See ’em down there below the dolphins, glistening, fat with oil and ready for the cannery. Cannery, hell, we’re so close to Samoa we can sell those guys fresh! Big market for fresh or frozen tuna now…they sell it as Hawaiian ahi—twenty bucks a pound in Tokyo! Hot damn, Billy boy, you’re going see some yellowfin caught today.”
He turned away, keyed the radio, and gave Santos the heading. From under his seat Arnold pulled out a beer and popped the tab one-handed. He drained half the can as he brought the chopper down on the landing pad and said, “Dolphin stew tonight, Billy.”
“You gotta be kidding.”
The pilot ignored his comment, took another swig and said, “I’ve done my work today, and you, little buddy, are about to start yours.”
He jabbed a finger in the direction of the clipper’s stern. Billy looked down and saw Rocha standing in the skiff waving them down. “Your San Pedro ex–gang member is waiting for you. And when you get to know him, he’s an okay guy.”
The chopper touched gently on the bridge and two crewmen sprang to secure metal hold-down clips to the landing skids. As the rotor slowed, Billy called to Arnold, “Thanks for the ride,” and jumped out to race for the skiff.
The captain stood beside Santos, who peered through the 20-power Steiner binoculars focusing on the birds that dipped and dove over the fast-moving spinner dolphins. Gandara was surprised to come upon a pod and its associated tuna where none were expected. He was sure now he would order a set, but he wanted the mate to commit himself, so if he was wrong, and the time they wasted was for nothing, he could dump the responsibility on Santos’s back. At last the mate looked up and said, “Looks good, captain.”
“Are you sure?”
The mate picked up the bridge phone and called the lookout in the crow’s nest. “What’s it look like to you?”
“It’s a so-so pod, and I can see fish below. Tell the captain we got tuna.”
“I’m sure, captain,” said Santos.
Gandara called into the bridge, “What heading is Salvador on now?”
The radar operator answered, “Still north, captain, and almost off the scope. On a heading for Fiji, I’d guess.”
“If she changes direction, let me know immediately.”
“Aye, sir.”
He considered the problems that would arise if Salvador came upon them while making a set. He was tempted to ignore the fish, but they were so close to the cannery, and the price for fresh tuna had never been higher. He made his decision and said calmly, “You may order the set now, Santos. And may God smile on our ship.”
The mate reached for a large black button and pressed it three times. The klaxon’s insistent blast resounded in every corner of the vessel, sending a shock of anticipation throughout the crew. As the horn’s insistent note died, Gandara picked up the bridge phone and turned the switch that would carry his orders over the ship’s loudspeakers.
Gandara glanced over the side to watch the dolphins leaping and spinning effortlessly as they raced away from Lucky Drag on . Some of the bolder juveniles had forgotten they were being chased and had fallen back to ride the white tumbling wake cascading off Lucky Dragon ’s bow. He watched them play, admiring their acrobatic grace,
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