The bubbles move away from shore. I flop to the ground. My hand shakes. I put my cell phone in my pocket so that no one will see the sun glint off it.
When I feel calm enough, I walk back to my kayak. I make it home in record time. All I want to do is get away from those men.
By the time I get home, I can hardly crawl to the sofa. It feels soft on my exhausted body. I close my eyes and let my arms and legs flop. They weigh a ton.
Saul walks into the room carrying a plate of sandwiches and a glass of milk.
“What happened to you?” he asks.
I tell him.
He sits with a sandwich halfway to his mouth and listens. His face turns redder and redder as I talk. When I tell him about the poacher coming to shore, he drops his sandwich onto his plate.
“That's it,” he says when I'm finished. “You're staying home from now on. What if he'd seen you?”
“Whatever,” I say.
“I mean it. You're staying home.”
“No way.”
I am scared of the men. I know they're dangerous. But everything is at stake now. They know where the sea urchins are. They'll find the sea otters soon for sure. Dad's boat is gone. Saul and Dad have no work.
I know Saul is only trying to protect me, but I can take care of myself. I've proved that. I rescued Dad. I came up with the plan. I took photos of the men diving for urchins.
“You can't tell me what to do,” I say.
He leaps out of his chair, sending sandwiches flying. He bends over me, points his finger in my face.
“Don't you get it? These men are dangerous. They pushed Dad off his boat. They've stolen things. They've swamped kayakers. You almost got hurt, Maya,” Saul says, sitting back down.
“But I didn't.”
“Not this time.”
We glare at each other. Saul looks away first, but he says, “What good did it do?”
Then I smile. “I took photos.”
“Of the poachers?”
I nod.
Saul shakes his head. “Okay, Maya, you win. But I'll be watching you.”
“Deal. Actually, I never want to get close to those men again. Let's go upload those photos.”
Saul gathers his sandwiches from the floor, and we go to the study.
There are three blurry photos of a person in a diving hood holding up a bag and three of a man on a boat on the screen. I enlarge the photos, but that makes them go pixely. “They're not good enough, are they?” I ask Saul.
He scrunches his sandwich into his mouth. “These could be taken anywhere, and those guys could be anyone. You can't see what's in the bags.”
I take a slow breath. My limbs feel heavy again.
I know it's true.
“There's one more,” I say. I click on the last photo. Saul and I gasp.
“I can't believe it,” I say. I'm looking at the face of Mark, from the coast guard. I'm sure it's him. My ears burn, and I think I might throw up. Saul swears and punches his hand into the table.
“No wonder they didn't come today. No wonder the coast guard can't catch them. How could he?”
“I thought Mark and Dad were friends,” I say.
“So did I. So did Dad.”
“We've been betrayed.” I lean back and put my hands over my eyes.
That's it. If Mark's one of the poachers, there's nothing we can do. I slam the laptop shut. But Saul opens it.
“Wait,” he says. He sits, and I leave him staring at the computer.
We show Dad the photos when he comes home. His face drains to white. He shakes his head and sits heavily in the chair.
“I have a plan,” says Saul. Before Dad can answer, he adds, “You go to Mark and tell him you've given up. Tell him you want the insurance money for the boat and that's all. He'll believe you. Meanwhile, Maya and I will go back to the cove with a proper camera and take photos.”
“Not on your life,” says Dad. He looks at us as if we've lost our minds. “Mom and I are going to drive to the city to talk to the police. I'm not letting Mark get away with it.”
“What proof will you have?” asks Saul.
Dad points to the photo, but Saul says, “That just shows Mark in a boat. There's nothing wrong with that. You need proof.”
“I don't want to talk about it anymore. Mom and I are going to the police.”
When Dad's gone, Saul looks at me. “That's it, I guess.”
But I know it isn't. Saul's right. It will be the Mark's word against Dad's, and Dad is just a fisherman. Why would the police believe him?
Everything's gone wrong.
It's my fault the sea otters are in danger. I can't believe I've been this stupid. “Now the poachers know where the sea urchins are,” I say. “It won't take long for them to notice the sea otters.”
“Yeah,” says Saul quietly.
“They'll capture them for sure.”
I wait for Saul to say they won't, but he doesn't. He looks at me with a frown, then shakes his head. “I don't know. Maybe not.” I can tell he doesn't believe himself.
“If Gertrude and Oscar and Lilly are captured, there will be no more sea otters around here,” I say.
“I know.”
We stand at the window. Neither of us moves.
“I can't bear it,” I say.
Saul puts his hand on my shoulder.
“There has to be something we can do,” I say.
“Like what?”
My body sags. “I don't know.”
I lean my head against the window. “How long will the poachers be there?” I ask.
“Diving, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
Saul thinks. “In this cold water with tanks, they'll be gone by now.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He nods. “Positive.”
“We should go and check on the sea otters,” I say. I'm exhausted, and the last thing I feel like doing is getting into my kayak, but I have to do it. I just do.
He shakes his head. “You're crazy,” he says.
My head spins. He's saying no.
“But you're right,” he adds.
I sigh in relief.
“We can pull up on the headland and check to see if the poachers' boat is there first,” I say.
“I'll go,” says Saul suddenly.
I look at him and cross my arms. “You know I'm coming with you,” I say.
He nods. “I had to try.”
We pull Saul's kayak out from under the house, and the two of us head off in our boats. Mom and Dad have gone to the police, but I don't think that'll help. It's up to me and Saul.
When we reach Rugged Point, we beach our kayaks and hike over the headland to take a look. The bay is empty. Not a boat in sight.
We get back into our kayaks. We paddle into Riley Bay and around the rocks and islands.
“Gertrude, Oscar, Lilly,” I call out.
“Gertrude,” calls Saul. When I look at him funny, he shrugs and laughs. “I can't see them,” he says.
“Keep looking. Maybe they're sleeping. Let's split up. I'll paddle on the north side of the bay, you look on the south side.”
Saul nods and paddles away from me.
I turn my kayak and head toward the closest islet. I'm worried. What if the poachers found them already?
Cormorants drying their wings on the rock watch me circle around the islet. There are no sea otters here. I paddle across to the next rock and circle it. Still no sea otters.
“Gertrude,” I call. Usually I find them easily, but not today. My throat tightens as I circle more rocks and islets and see no sign of sea otters.
When I reach the far end of the bay, I paddle under the overhanging tree branches just in case. No sea otters here.
What have I done?
I make my way along the shoreline, moving slowly. My eyes scan the logs and roots under the water. The sea otters must be here. They must.
They're not.
Saul's kayak comes out from behind a rock. I wave at him, “Saul, have you found them?”
He shakes his head and paddles away.
I follow the curve of the bay closely. Overhanging branches block my way. Logs and driftwood have been shoved close to shore in the storms. It's hard to see, but up ahead there's a jumble of wood that looks weird. I can't tell what's different about it.
When I'm close enough to see properly, I shout, “Saul, SAUL! Help, I've found them.” I glance over my shoulder, but it's no use. He's across the bay. The wind blows my voice away from him.
The three sea otters huddle in a group. I angle my boat toward them. As I glide closer, one of them, I can't tell if it's Lilly or Oscar, hisses at me.
I back away. Sea otters are wild creatures. They're dangerous.
I take another stroke toward them. Lilly hisses. I have to find out what's going on. Why are they all huddled up under the branches? It's a strange place for them.
I decide to try another approach. Instead of angling toward the sea otters, I glide past them. Once I've drifted fifty feet, I change my angle and paddle slowly toward them. They're watching me, but they're not hissing or growling.
When I get twenty feet from the sea otters, I can see what the matter is.
Gertrude is wound up in a harvest bag. My whole body shakes when Gertrude turns her teddy-bear face and stares at me.
Now I know the worst has really happened.
The sea otters have been hurt by the poachers.
“Oh no,” I groan. “Gertrude, what's happened to you?” I don't know what to do. Somehow I'm going to have to free Gertrude from the mesh of the bag, or she'll die. Her flippers are all caught up. She won't be able to swim or eat.
My mind whizzes in a million directions. I'm panicking, like when I thought I'd lost Dad. I glance across the bay. I wave and shout again, “Saul. SAUL⦔ But he doesn't see or hear me.
I have to do something, and I have to do it now. Then I hear the sound I've been dreading. A motor. It's a boat coming in. In seconds, I see it round into the bay, heading right for me.
It's the poachers.
I have to get away from the sea otters so the poachers don't see them. I sprint for a rock to hide behind.
Why have they come back?
About sixty feet away from me, they cut their motor and stop. One of them leans over the side of the boat like he's looking for something. His bag, I bet. They must have noticed it was missing.
They'll be desperate to find it so no one knows they've been harvesting sea urchins out of season. I can't hear what they say, but I can see them arguing. Then two of them pull on dry suits and splash overboard.
My hand clutches my paddle. What if one of them swims over to the sea otters? He'll see Gertrude. Then what?
Without thinking, or even knowing I'm about to do it, I paddle out from behind the rock. I have no plan, but I have to keep them away from the sea otters.
“Hey,” I call. My voice hardly comes out. I try again. “Hey.” This time I'm louder. Mark looks at me.
“Hey, Maya, are you calling us?” he says.
I wet my lips and cough to clear my throat. “Are you looking for a harvest bag?”
He doesn't answer.
I cough again. “I saw a bag here earlier. Is it yours?”
Mark leans forward. The look in his eyes has changed. Before he was playing at being friendly. Now he knows that I know. He starts his engine. I've made a big mistake.
I was so concerned about the sea otters that I forgot to worry about myself. How could I be so stupid?
“Saul, over here!” I shout, but there's no answer.
There's a narrow channel between some rocks ten strokes behind me. If I can get in there, Mark won't be able to reach me. I paddle hard backward. The kayak wobbles and heads toward a rock. I correct my angle and try again. I'm still five strokes away from the channel.
Below me, I see a dark shape. At first I think it's a sea otter, but it is moving too slowly. Then I see bubbles, and I know exactly what it is. A diver.
I brace myself as the diver hauls himself up onto the stern of my boat. He flings his chest across my back hatch. His feet hang in the water. He leans sideways and tries to tip me.
I throw my weight the other way.
He leans his weight left. I fling mine right. Somehow I keep the boat upright. He growls at me. It doesn't sound like a human voice. He leans again. This time I go over.
The man lets go of my boat. He lunges at me underwater. I struggle to roll the kayak upright, but he's too close. He's got a rake in his hand.
He's coming right for my face.
A second before he hits me, something streaks by and knocks him out of the way. His tank falls to the sea floor below him. I'm running out of air, and I have no time to see what it was that hit him, so I set up my paddle and roll.
When I surface, Saul is sitting in his kayak beside me. He has his paddle in one hand and his radio in the other. He's checking underwater to see where the diver got to. Mark's boat is coming our way.
“Are you okay?” asks Saul. “I can't believe you just did that. What were you thinking?”
It's a good question, but we don't have time to think about it right now. The channel is right behind us, but we won't both fit. My head spins around, searching for a way out.
“Head behind a rock,” I shout. Saul understands immediately. He grabs the bow of my boat and sweeps it around, changing my angle. He gives me a push. I take one stroke, and another and another. In five seconds Saul and I are surrounded by rocks.
“They're still coming,” says Saul. It's true. Mark is motoring straight toward us.
I want to cry, but I need to keep my head.
I breathe deeply. My fingers grip my paddle so tightly my knuckles feel like they might crack. I've done the thing I most feared. I've put everything at risk. Me. Saul. The sea otters.
I look underwater. One of the divers still has a tank. He could be anywhere.
Then I see a shadow slide under the water. The bubbles rise to the surface. I thrash my paddle in his direction. He backs away.