Dolphin Island (Arthur C. Clarke Collection) Read online

  Johnny was impressed, and his curiosity was aroused. He had always liked to know how things worked, and he couldn't imagine how one would even begin to learn dolphin language.

  "Well," said Mick, when he put the question to him, "have you ever stopped to think how you learned to speak?"

  "By listening to my mother, I suppose," Johnny answered, a little sadly; he could just remember her.

  "Of course. So what the Prof did was to take a mother dolphin with a new baby, and put them into a pool by themselves. Then he listened to the conversation as the baby grew up; that way, he learned dolphin, just as the baby did."

  "It sounds almost too easy," said Johnny.

  "Oh, it took years, and he's still learning. But now he has a vocabulary of thousands of words, and he's even started to write dolphin history."

  "History?"

  "Well, you can call it that. Because they don't have books, they've developed wonderful memories. They can tell us about things that happened in the sea ages ago—at least, that's what the Prof says. And it makes sense; before men invented writing, they had to carry everything in their own heads. The dolphins have done the same."

  Johnny pondered these surprising facts until they had reached the administrative block and completed the circuit of the island. At the sight of all these buildings, housing so many busy workers and complicated machines, he was struck by a more down-to-earth thought.

  "Who pays for all this?" he asked. "It must cost a fortune to run."

  "Not much, compared to the money that goes into space," Mick answered. "The Prof started fifteen years ago with about six helpers. When he began getting results, the big science foundations gave him all the support he needed. So now we have to tidy the place up every six months for a lot of fossils who call themselves an inspection committee. I've heard the Prof say it was much more fun in the old days."

  That might be true, thought Johnny. But it looked as if it was still a lot of fun now—and he intended to share it.

  Chapter 7

  The hydrofoil launch Flying Fish came scudding out of the west at fifty knots, making the crossing from the Australian mainland in two hours. When she was near the Dolphin Island reef, she retracted her huge water skis, settled down like a conventional boat, and finished her journey at a sedate ten knots.

  Johnny knew that she was in sight when the whole population of the island started to migrate down to the jetty. He followed out of curiosity, and stood watching on the beach as the white-painted launch came cautiously down the channel blasted through the coral.

  Professor Kazan, wearing a spotlessly white tropical suit and a wide-brimmed hat, was the first ashore. He was warmly greeted by a reception committee in which technicians, fishermen, clerical staff, and children were all mixed up together. The island community was extremely democratic, everyone regarding himself as the equal of everyone else.

  But Professor Kazan, as Johnny soon discovered, was in a class of his own, and the islanders treated him with a curious mixture of respect, affection, and pride.

  Johnny also discovered that if you came down to the beach to watch the Flying Fish arrive, you were expected to help unload her. For the next hour, he assisted an impressive flow of parcels and packing cases on its way from boat to "Stores." The job had just been finished, and he was having a welcome cool drink, when the public address system asked him if he would kindly report to Tech Block as soon as possible.

  When he arrived, he was shown into a large room full of electronic equipment. Professor Kazan and Dr. Keith were sitting at an elaborate control desk, and took no notice of him at all. Johnny didn't mind; he was too fascinated at what was going on.

  A strange series of sounds, repeated over and over again, was coming from a loud-speaker. It was like the dolphin noises that Johnny had already heard, but there was a subtle difference. After about a dozen repeats, he realized what this was. The sounds had been slowed down considerably, to allow sluggish human ears to appreciate their fine details.

  But this was not all. Each time the string of dolphin noises came from the speaker, it also appeared as a pattern of light and shade on a large television screen. The pattern of bright lines and dark bands looked like a kind of map, and though it meant nothing to Johnny's untrained eye, it obviously conveyed a good deal to the scientists. They watched it intently every time it flashed on the screen, and occasionally they adjusted controls that brightened some areas and darkened others.

  Suddenly, the Professor noticed Johnny, turned off the sound, and swiveled around in his seat. However, he did not switch off the picture, which continued flashing silently and steadily with such hypnotic rhythm that Johnny's eyes kept coming back to it.

  All the same, he made the most of this first opportunity of studying Professor Kazan.

  The scientist was a plump, gray-haired man in his late fifties; he had a kindly but rather distant expression, as if he wanted to be friends with everyone, yet preferred to be left with his own thoughts. As Johnny was to discover, he could be excellent company when he relaxed, but at other times he would seem to be somewhere else altogether, even when he was talking to you. It was not that he bore much resemblance to the "absent-minded professor" of the popular imagination; no one could be less absent-minded than Professor Kazan when it came to dealing with practical matters. He seemed to be able to operate on two levels at once: part of his mind would be coping with the affairs of everyday life, and another part would be wrestling with some profound scientific problem. No wonder, therefore, that he often appeared to be listening to some inner voice that no one else could hear.

  "Sit down, Johnny," he began. "Dr. Keith radioed about you while I was over on the mainland. I suppose you realize just how lucky you've been?"

  "Yes, sir," answered Johnny, with considerable feeling.

  "We've known for centuries that dolphins sometimes help humans to shore—in fact, such legends go back for over two thousand years, though no one took them very seriously until our time. But you weren't merely pushed to land; you were carried a hundred miles.

  "On top of that, you were brought directly to us . But why? This is what we'd very much like to know. I don't suppose you have any ideas?"

  Johnny was flattered by the question, but could do little to answer it.

  "Well," he said slowly, "they must have known that you were working with dolphins, though I can't imagine how they found out."

  "That's easy to answer," Dr. Keith interjected. "The dolphins we've released must have told them. Remember, Johnny recognized five of them from photographs I showed him when he first arrived."

  Professor Kazan nodded.

  "Yes—and that gives us some valuable information. It means that the coastal species we work with and their deep-sea, cousins speak the same language. We didn't know that before."

  "But we're still in the dark about their motives," said Dr. Keith. "If wild dolphins that have never had any direct contact with men go to all this trouble, it suggests that they want something from us—and want it badly. Perhaps rescuing Johnny meant something like, 'We've helped you—now help us.'"

  "It's a plausible theory," agreed Professor Kazan. "But we won't find the answer by talking. There's only one way to discover what Johnny's friends were driving at—and that's to ask them."

  " If we can find them."

  "Well, if they really want something, they won't be too far away. We may be able to contact them without leaving this room."

  The Professor threw a switch, and once more the air was full of sound. But this time, Johnny soon realized, he was not listening to the voice of a single dolphin, but to all the voices of the sea.

  It was an incredibly complex mixture of hissings and cracklings and rumblings. Mingled with these, there were chirps that might have been made by birds, faint and distant moans, and the murmur of a million waves.

  They listened for several minutes to this fascinating medley of noises; then the Professor turned another switch on the huge machine.

 
"That was Hydrophone West," he explained to Johnny. "Now we'll try Hydro East. It's in deeper water, right off the edge of the Reef."

  The sound picture changed; the noise of the waves was fainter, but the moanings and creakings from the unknown creatures of the sea were much louder. Once more the Professor listened for several minutes, then he switched to North, and finally to South.

  "Run the tapes through the analyzer, will you?" he asked Dr. Keith. "But I'd be willing to bet, even now, that there's no large school of dolphins within twenty miles."

  "In that case, bang goes my theory."

  "Not necessarily; twenty miles is nothing to dolphins. And they're hunters, remember, so they can't stay in one place. They have to follow their food wherever it goes. The school that rescued Johnny would soon vacuum clean all the fish off our reef."

  The Professor rose to his feet, then continued:

  "I'll leave you to run the analysis; it's time I went down to the pool. Come along, Johnny, I want you to meet some of my best friends."

  As they walked toward the beach, the Professor seemed to fall into a reverie. Then he startled Johnny by suddenly and skillfully producing a string of rapidly modulated whistles.

  He laughed at Johnny's surprised expression.

  "No human being will ever speak fluent Dolphin," he said, "but I can make a fair attempt at a dozen of the commoner phrases. I have to keep working at them, though, and I'm afraid my accent's pretty terrible. Only dolphins that know me well can understand what I'm trying to say. And sometimes I think they're just being polite."

  The Professor unlocked the gate to the pool, and then carefully locked it behind him.

  "Everyone wants to play with Susie and Sputnik, but I can't allow it," he explained. "At least, not while I'm trying to teach them English."

  Susie was a sleek, excited matron of some three hundred pounds, who reared herself half out of the water as they approached. Sputnik, her nine-month-old son, was more reserved, or perhaps more shy; he kept his mother between himself and the visitors.

  "Hello, Susie," said the Professor, speaking with exaggerated clarity. "Hello, Sputnik."

  Then he pursed his lips and let fly with that complicated whistle. Something went wrong halfway through, and he swore softly under his breath before going back to start afresh.

  Susie thought this was very funny. She gave several yelps of dolphin laughter, then squirted a jet of water at her visitors, though she was polite enough to miss them. Then she swam up to the Professor, who reached into his pocket and produced a plastic bag full of titbits.

  He held one piece high in the air, whereupon Susie backed away a few yards, came shooting out of the water like a rocket, took the food neatly from the Professor's fingers, and dived back into the pool with scarcely a splash. Then she emerged again and said distinctly, "Thank you, 'fessor."

  She was obviously waiting for more, but Professor Kazan shook his head.

  "No, Susie," he said, patting her on the back. "No more; food-time soon."

  She gave a snort that seemed to express disgust, then went racing around the pool like a motor boat, clearly showing off.

  As Sputnik followed her, the Professor said to Johnny:

  "See if you can feed him—I'm afraid he doesn't trust me."

  Johnny took the titbit, which smelled to high heaven of fish, oil, and chemicals. It was, he found later, the dolphin equivalent of tobacco or candy. The Professor had concocted it only after years of research; the animals loved the stuff so much that they would do almost anything to earn some.

  Johnny knelt at the edge of the pool and waved the bait.

  "Sputnik!" he called. "Here, Sputnik!"

  The little dolphin reared out of the water and regarded him doubtfully. It looked at its mother, it looked at Professor Kazan and then again at Johnny. Though it appeared tempted, it would not approach him; instead, it gave a snort and promptly submerged, after which it started tearing around in the depths of the pool. It did not seem to be going anywhere in particular; like some human beings who cannot make up their minds, it was simply galloping off in all directions.

  I think it's afraid of the Professor, Johnny decided. He walked along the edge of the pool until he had put fifty feet between himself and the scientist, then called to Sputnik again.

  His theory worked. The dolphin surveyed the new situation, approved of it, and swam slowly toward Johnny. It still looked a little suspicious as it raised its snout and opened its mouth, displaying an alarming number of small but needle-sharp teeth. Johnny felt distinctly relieved when it took the reward without nipping his fingers. After all, Sputnik was a carnivore, and Johnny would not care to feed a half-grown lion cub with his bare hands.

  The young dolphin hovered at the edge of the pool, obviously waning for more. "No, Sputnik," said Johnny, remembering the Professor's words to Susie. "No, Sputnik—

  food-time soon."

  The dolphin remained only inches away, so Johnny reached out to stroke it. Though it shied a little, it did not withdraw, but permitted him to run his hand along its back. He was surprised to find that the animal's skin was soft and flexible, like rubber; nothing could have been more unlike the scaly body of a fish; and no one who stroked a dplphin could ever again forget that it was a warm-blooded mammal.

  Johnny would have liked to remain playing with Sputnik, but the Professor was signaling to him. As they walked away from the pool, the scientist remarked jokingly:

  "My feelings are quite hurt. I've never been able to get near Sputnik—and you did it the first time. You seem to have a way with dolphins; have you ever kept any pets before?"

  "No, sir," said Johnny. "Except polywogs, and that was a long time ago."

  "Well," the Professor chuckled, "I don't think we can count them."

  They had walked on for a few more yards, when Professor Kazan started speaking in a completely different tone of voice, addressing Johnny very seriously as an equal, not as a boy forty years younger.

  "I'm a scientist," he said, "but I'm also a superstitious Russian peasant. Though logic tells me it's nonsense, I'm beginning to think that Fate sent you here. First, there was the way you arrived, like something out of a Greek myth. And now Sputnik feeds out of your hands. Pure coincidence, of course, but a sensible man makes coincidences work for him."

  What on earth is he driving at? wondered Johnny. But the Professor said no more until they were about to re-enter the Tech Block. Then he suddenly remarked, with a slight chuckle, "I understand that you're in no great hurry to get home."

  Johnny's heart skipped a beat.

  "That's right, sir," he said eagerly. "I want to stay here as long as I can. I'd like to learn more about your dolphins."

  "Not mine," corrected the Professor firmly. "Every dolphin is a person in his own right, an individual with more freedom than we can ever know on land. They don't belong to anyone, and I hope they never will. I want to help them, not only for science, but because it's a privilege to do so. Never think of them as animals; in their language they call themselves the People of the Sea, and that's the best name for them."

  It was the first time that Johnny had seen the Professor so animated, but he could understand his feelings. For he owed his life to the People of the Sea, and it was a debt he hoped he could repay.

  Chapter 8

  Around Dolphin Island lay a magic kingdom, the reef. In a lifetime, one could not exhaust its marvels. Johnny had never dreamed that such places existed, crammed with weird and beautiful creatures in such multitudes that the fields and forests of the land seemed dead by comparison.

  At high tide, the reef was completely covered by the sea, and only the narrow belt of white sand surrounding the island was left exposed. But a few hours later, the transformation was incredible. Though the range between high and low tide was only three feet, the reef was so flat that the water withdrew for miles. Indeed, in some directions the tide retreated so far that the sea disappeared from sight, and the coral plateau was uncovered all the wa
y to the horizon.

  This was the time to explore the reef; all the equipment needed was a stout pair of shoes, a broad-rimmed hat to give protection from the sun, and a face mask. The shoes were far and away the most important item, for the sharp, brittle coral could inflict scars that easily became infected, and then took weeks to heal.

  The first time that Johnny went out onto the reef, Mick was his guide. Because he had no idea what to expect, everything was very strange—and a little frightening. He did well to be cautious until he knew his way around. There were things on the reef—small, innocent-looking things— that could easily kill him if he was careless.

  The two boys walked straight out from the beach on the western side of the island, where the exposed reef was only half a mile wide. At first they crossed an uninteresting no man's land of dead, broken coral—shattered fragments cast up by the storms of centuries. The whole island was built of such fragments, which the ages had covered with a thin layer of earth, then with grass and weeds, and at last with trees.

  They were soon beyond the zone of dead coral, and it seemed to Johnny that he was moving through a garden of strange, petrified plants. There were delicate twigs and branches of colored stone, and more massive shapes like giant mushrooms or fungi, so solid that it was safe to walk on them. Yet despite their appearance, these were not plants, but the creations of animal life. When Johnny bent down to examine them, he could see that their surfaces were pierced by thousands of tiny holes. Each was the cell of a single coral polyp—a little creature like a small sea anemone—and each cell had been built of lime secreted by the animal during its lifetime. When it died, the empty cell would remain, and the next generation would build upon it And so the reef would grow, year by year, century by century. Everything that Johnny saw—the miles upon miles of flat tableland, glistening beneath the sun—was the work of creatures smaller than his fingernail.

  And this was only one patch of coral in the whole immensity of the Great Barrier Reef, which stretched for more than a thousand miles along the Australian coast. Now Johnny understood a remark that he had heard Professor Kazan make—that the Reef was the mightiest single work of living creatures on the face of the Earth.