Grayson by Lynne Cox Read Free Book Online Page A

fast as my arms would move, and pulled myself down twenty-five feet. A school of bat rays were swimming in single file, flapping their wings, swimming right toward me. Theygrew bigger as they swam closer. From wing tip to wing tip they were five feet wide, and they must have weighed two hundred pounds each, maybe more. Their bodies were flat, their skin was smooth and like a surfer’s wet suit. Their heads were large and protruded in front of their fins.
    One bat ray swam within three feet of me. He moved gracefully, like an enormous newspaper rolling and unrolling. Six more bat rays followed in complete synchrony. They swam to a level ten feet above my head, revealing their white underbodies. They turned in toward shore where the water was warmer and climbed into the upper inches of water, skimming the light blue surface silhouetted by the rays of the sun, their long whiplike tails trailing behind.
    They looped back and dove, flying past me, one after the other as they flapped their fins fast, using the downward thrusts to move the silt on the ocean floor and uncover other stingrays and halibut hiding from predators. The bottom erupted as stingrays scurried by and bat rays closed the distance. Not wanting to leave, but needing to breathe, I turned and followed what was left of my bubble stream to the surface, tryingto push the water downward rapidly with my arms the way the bat rays did.
    Snapping through the water’s taut surface, I rolled over onto my back and breathed fast and deeply.
    I didn’t stay there long. In the back of my mind I knew that if I didn’t find the baby whale soon, he might never find his mother, and even if he was with me, we might not find her. But still, there might be a way to help him.
    If I continued diving in the same place, over and over again, did I increase or decrease my chances of finding the baby whale? I wasn’t sure, but I decided to try something different. This time I swam two hundred yards farther offshore into a warm current. Taking three deep breaths, I bent in half and lifted my legs up over my head, pulled rapidly, and felt the water squeezing around my head like a vise that continued to tighten as I dove deeper. My heart was beating slowly in my throat. I pulled a few more strokes, and then sculled to hold myself in place.
    Two green sea turtles swam off to my right side. They were large, their carapaces mottled in patterns of browns, greens, blacks, and grays. They were aboutfour feet long and could have weighed one hundred and fifty pounds. They had to be at least fifteen years old. And they were swimming slowly and easily. Their fore flippers were beating the water like wings and they weren’t in any hurry, carrying their homes along with them like aquatic RVs. They were amazing animals, able to hold their breath underwater for up to five hours, and they could make their hearts slow down so they beat at nine beats per minute. As they disappeared from view, I pulled back to the surface with a deep sense of gloom. There was no sign of the baby whale or his mother. What could I do now?
    Floating on my back trying to catch my breath and energy, choppy water rolling over my shoulders and arms, I stretched them out and let them float near my head, tucked my chin to my chest to stretch the back of my neck, and then grabbed my knees with both hands and pulled them into my chest one at a time. Slowly I released them. That took the stress out of my back and I imagined that I was in a giant cradle rocking from side to side, with gentle waves rolling under me and massaging my back and shoulders.
    The wind blew through the funneling waves, transformingthem into wind instruments. They were giant bassoons, tubas, trombones, piccolos, trumpets, flutes, clarinets, saxophones, French horns, B horns, C horns, and oboes. A symphony of the sea was playing. And the music the waves played grew louder, changed in tone, in pitch, and in length with their constantly changing shape and the amount