The Globetrotters Page 8

  ‘And why not, you have a teardrop-shaped body.’ Wolf Don hummed absently as he swam around him. ‘The fastest-moving reptile, who can swim at a speed of thirty-five kilometres per hour with their powerpacked flippers and is one of the deepest diving marine animals.’ The don stopped and knocked on his shell with his buck teeth. ‘And a leathery carapace over a flexible matrix of bone, not like the hard shells of other turtles. Helps you to dive to great depths—’

  ‘Er … excuse me.’ Hudhud shifted uneasily. ‘I don’t like being touched.’

  ‘Boss can touch what he pleases!’ Whale swam threateningly near Hudhud’s eye.

  ‘Peace, Whale, peace,’ the don chimed in. ‘The chap is a bit sensitive, is all.’ He gestured Hudhud to carry on with his story.

  Hudhud cleared his throat and got the faraway look in his eyes again. ‘You know, jellyfish are our favourite food. We were travelling in the open ocean when the sea serpent released the ghost jellyfish. Kilkila fed on the ghosts … and choked to death.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Why didn’t you just stop then and make the sea serpent … pay?’ The don caught another crustacean and began munching on it.

  ‘I … I was swimming far ahead of Kilkila as we travelled back from the breeding grounds. I didn’t realize for days that he was … dead.’ He dipped his head as his voice became heavy and cracked. ‘I just came to know about it today. And …’ Hudhud suddenly looked up with dewy eyes. ‘I am searching for an answer too.’

  ‘And how do I come into this picture?’ The wolf fish gulped down the rest of the crustacean.

  ‘I want you to help me find the sea serpent.’ Hudhud paused and then added, ‘And the answer.’

  ‘Ah … finding the legendary sea serpent …’ Wolf Don’s eyes twinkled. ‘And why not—who else but the Wolf can find the living monster of the oceans? I am the don, after all, of the underworld!’

  ‘Yes, yes, that’s what I thought.’

  ‘And what answer? What’s the question?’ The don went to a rock, tried in vain to sharpen his teeth on it and then gave up on the idea.

  ‘Thing is … I can’t remember the question.’

  ‘Guess you are too grief-stricken to remember that I am a don, not an oracle.’

  ‘Okay, maybe not the answer … But the sea serpent?’

  ‘Hmm …’ The don swam in circles, chasing his tail. ‘I have someone who is a great traveller like you. The gypsy of the seas and rivers. She can help you find the sea serpent. Provided …’ He stopped abruptly.

  ‘What?’ Hudhud drew closer and so did Whale.

  ‘You bring me the sea serpent’s magic, which lies in her ancient crest.’ The wolf fish smirked.

  ‘But—’

  ‘That crest is what gives her the power over the legendary creatures of the sea. You know, she is also known as the oracle of the seas. What do you think matters to me the most, Luth?’

  ‘But her crest …’ Hudhud sputtered.

  ‘There are three things that matter to me the most.’ The don paused for effect. ‘One … reputation. Two … reputation. And three …’

  ‘Reputation?’ Hudhud put in helpfully.

  ‘Don’t be so obvious, Luth. Three … image.’ The don looked pleased with himself.

  ‘But isn’t that the same as—’

  ‘You contradict boss!’ Whale whistled, and a giant squid came pumping out of one of the dark caves and a jumbo crab out of another. The anglerfish too started swimming towards Hudhud angrily, who looked all around him, bewildered.

  ‘Oh, stop it, Whale. You don’t give capital punishment for asking a question,’ Wolf Don chided the seahorse and flipped his fin dismissively. The squid, the crab and the anglerfish retreated to their caves, and Hudhud let out a small sigh of relief. Sensing the presence of terrible unseen creatures in all the dark sub-caves around him, he gulped.

  Catching the look on the turtle’s face, the don seemed smug. ‘As you can see, I have control over enough powerful creatures. I don’t need magic, but having it will add to my reputation big time. And reputation, Luth, is two of the most important things on my list.’ The wolf fish showed him his buck teeth again. ‘So?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Hudhud mumbled.

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The don nodded at Whale and then called in a shrill voice, ‘Salmo Salar!’

  As soon as he shouted, the seahorse hid behind the wolf fish, cowering.

  There was some movement in one of the subcaves and Hudhud turned to see an Atlantic salmon emerge from it. The fish wore a silver-blue sheen all over, black dots on her back and a haughty expression. She weighed no less than forty-five kilos, and Hudhud guessed she would have spent at least four winters feeding in the sea.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked the don flippantly in a deep bass voice. ‘First stop these clownfish from making clowns of themselves.’ She glared at the singing school of fish and they stopped abruptly.

  ‘Ah, Salmo, my hot-headed dearie.’ Wolf Don looked a bit edgy. ‘This young boy here wants to visit the sea serpent. Badly, if I may say so. Take him to her, and you and your brother will be free to go.’

  The salmon eyeballed the don and he began fidgeting with his teeth—and it was not because she was ten times his size. ‘When?’ she asked tersely.

  ‘Now, if it’s convenient …?’

  Without saying another word, the salmon swam into the cave that led to the entrance.

  Hudhud looked after her.

  ‘Follow her, foolish Luth!’

  Hudhud uttered a small thanks and swam after the salmon. He stopped and turned to see the don sighing in relief as the salmon disappeared from view. The clownfish were clearing their throats to start singing again.

  ‘What if I don’t find the crest?’ Hudhud called.

  ‘Then we will find you.’ Wolf Don began to shake and Hudhud realized he was laughing silently. A chill ran down his spine as laughter from unseen creatures in the many sub-caves rang all around him. He flapped his front flippers resolutely and swam after the salmon.

  Once they were out of the maze of the underwater caves, Salmo Salar crossed the queue and thrust ahead, her tail moving back and forth. Hudhud soon caught up with her.

  ‘Um … Salmo … I need to surface.’

  ‘Seven blue whales!’ she said in a bassoon-like voice and shot up towards the ocean surface. ‘Whom are you calling Salmo, kid? Show some respect!’

  Hudhud began to swim on the surface. The big fat salmon swam by his side, underwater. They crossed paths with a school of small bright-red fish, shimmering like coals with the sunlight reflecting off their backs. The water was warmer on the top and the sunrays made little diamonds on salty droplets. A pod of loud dolphins, flipping and tossing in the air, passed at a distance.

  Salmo Salar flashed a glance at the dolphins, caught a squid with one fluid motion and swallowed it in a few gulps before she resumed swimming again. Hudhud, on the other hand, was on the lookout for jellyfish. Once when he and Kilkila were in their feeding grounds, he had made a bet with him on who could eat more jellyfish in a day. The coasts had abundant jellyfish every summer. But there would be no bet now … and no Kilkila. Hudhud shook his head in disbelief.

  To drag his thoughts away from his brother, he tried to strike up a conversation with Salmo. ‘Madame … how old are you?’

  ‘Never!’ Salmo Salar stopped swimming and whirled towards him, so that she was looking at him right in the eyes. ‘Never ask a lady her age, lad.’

  ‘Oh.’ Hudhud looked embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean to offend, madame. It’s just that I’ve heard that Atlantic salmon are born in freshwater rivers, go to the sea once their bodies change and then come back to their native freshwater stream to spawn.’ He had also heard that Atlantic salmon were the most aggressive of all salmon, but he kept that information to himself. ‘It’s a wondrous tale—a creature who can live in both fresh water and seawater. They say you have a free-floating, wayward life. Are you by any c
hance … um … one of the legendary creatures controlled by the sea serpent? Is that why Wolf Don sent you, madame?’

  ‘Keep guessing, lad,’ Salmo said with a grim face.

  ‘My name is Hudhud.’

  ‘Ask me if I care.’ Salmo glared at the school of red fish. ‘Get out of my way!’

  Days and nights passed. Hudhud kept travelling with the haughty salmon. Salmo would surf with the currents, always aloof, always angry. She would scold a passing fish or chase away an unsuspecting eel. Hudhud now understood why Wolf Don was wary of her. He didn’t mind their speedy progress, though. The leatherbacks could travel day and night with hardly any rest. He loved travelling under the scattering of stars. He and Kilkila knew all the constellations. As Hudhud and Salmo coursed ahead, the waters became colder. Unlike their other reptilian relatives, leatherbacks were adapted to always maintain warm body temperatures. Their big frame, along with their unique system of blood supply to the bones and cartilage, the layers of fat and all the swimming they did, helped to keep them warm in cold waters. This heating system was most helpful when they travelled all the way to Greenland in the winters to feed on jellyfish. Ah … how the jellyfish would melt in their mouths.

  He and Kilkila had often boasted to the passing creatures in the open oceans about being carefree gypsies of the seas who would make transatlantic crossings, just as their cousins Pacific leatherbacks made the trans-Pacific ones. But he couldn’t boast in front of Salmo. Atlantic salmon were great travellers, next to none. He knew they travelled thousands of kilometres to Greenland too. Hudhud got thinking. What was a salmon doing not travelling but living in an underground cave with the don of the underworld? And what about that other answer he was seeking? What was the question? If Kilkila was around, both of them could tackle Salmo together and dig out all the answers. Alone, he was lost. Guilt gnawed at him the most. He hadn’t even been talking to Kilkila when he died. That stupid fight! Had they not fought, childishly, he would be travelling with him now. They could have escaped the ghost jellyfish together. If only …

  They were fighters. And survivors. Their mother had deposited her eggs in a nest dug up in sand on a tropical beach. Out of the thousands of eggs laid on the same beach, only a handful of babies, including Kilkila and Hudhud, had survived. Most of the eggs as well as most of the baby turtles trying to get to the sea had been eaten by monitor lizards, gulls, crabs and all kinds of freeloaders. A big fat crab with a barnacle attached to her back had attacked baby Hudhud. Just before she could catch and crush him, something had hit her bum. It was baby Kilkila teasing the killer. And when she turned around to attack Kilkila, something else hit her bum again—baby Hudhud! Both the young turtles had thoroughly confused the hunter, taking her attention away from each of them as they hurried towards the water. Baby Kilkila and baby Hudhud had hooted in relief when waves had carried them into the ocean. It was the first time Hudhud heard Kilkila’s irresistible chuckle, as he stretched in his first cradle of waves. One would always be on the lookout for the other. How they’d fooled and escaped a shark was a tale that spread among the sea turtles and grew out of proportion, much to their delight. The X-Brothers, they came to be known as.

  With Salmo refusing to exchange one civil word with Hudhud, his mind kept replaying all the adventures he had had with Kilkila. Their journeys from the cold waters to the tropical seas, where the gents and ladies courted. Once the ladies had finished laying clutches of eggs in sandy nests on the beach, a few times during the season, the turtles travelled thousands of kilometres back to Greenland, where they gorged on jellyfish. The two brothers envied the ladies, who could return to land again to lay eggs every nesting season. The boys would never return to shore in their lives. They were forever bound to the sea. ‘Don’t sweat, bruh,’ Kilkila would say with his ringing chuckle while flapping forward. ‘Who needs land when you can fly through the sea?’

  Thus Hudhud was swimming after Salmo Salar, his thoughts a thousand kilometres away, when suddenly, a thin silvery net seemed to haze his vision. He shook his head to come back to the here and now, but the hint of a mist wouldn’t clear. There was a large school of dark-grey fish moving like a laden rain cloud just ahead of them. He could sense Salmo’s anger brimming. She flapped her tail in quick motion to go give the fish a piece of her mind.

  His eyes widened with a sudden realization. He dashed forward and bumped against Salmo’s side, sending her tumbling down in the water, and then followed her at top speed. She regained her control and spun towards him with a snarl, ‘Seven blue whales!’

  ‘Peace!’ Hudhud pointed upwards.

  The haze was clearing from the surface, one pull at a time. It had caged the school of dark-grey fish.

  ‘The fishing net of humans …’ Salmo muttered, an edge of terror in her deep voice.

  Hudhud nodded. ‘Witch’s Tongue, we call it. You can’t escape once it slurps you out of the ocean. Many leatherbacks get caught in these nets, and Kilkila and I have learnt to watch out for them.’

  The salmon wordlessly tore away her gaze from the miserable fish being pulled out of the water and darted ahead.

  Hudhud shrugged and began following her again. They travelled, as before, in silence.

  They stopped now and then to grab a bite of a juicy jellyfish when Hudhud could find one, and of squid, eel and shrimp for Salmo. The salmon’s temper seemed to have cooled down for the day. The evening brought in a gentle drizzle. The wind blew rain spatters on his face as Hudhud surfaced. The sky and ocean had blurred into an elusive dull-grey silver. When he dived back in, he found Salmo going ahead slowly to keep pace with him.

  ‘Kilkila …’ she began. ‘Is it your brother you are trying to avenge?’

  Hudhud grunted his reply.

  She nodded and continued the ocean trek into the dusk.

  At daybreak, Salmo dawdled alongside Hudhud. ‘I have a brother too,’ she said unexpectedly.

  ‘Oh?’ was all Hudhud could mutter.

  ‘He is a captive of Wolf Don.’ She gritted her teeth imperceptibly, trying to control her temper. ‘All he did was eat some of the herring and krill from the don’s personal stock. He didn’t even know it was Don’s!’

  Hudhud nodded, trying to look suitably grave.

  ‘I’ve offered to do one job for Don, and he has promised to set him free after that. So …’

  ‘What a goon …’ The smiling face of the wolf fish with his buck teeth was stuck in Hudhud’s mind like an aching tooth.

  ‘We are not legendary creatures,’ Salmo said, leading the way again.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You forgot what you asked?’ Salmo flashed him an angry look.

  ‘No, no,’ Hudhud replied, remembering.

  ‘But we are the stuff stories are made of. Yes, turtle, we are ocean wanderers like you,’ said the salmon. ‘You are the most widely found reptile in the world. But we can change our bodies. Can you do that?’

  ‘Um … no. I don’t think so.’

  ‘And … we do not have free-floating, wayward lives.’

  ‘Oh … I’m sorry.’ Hudhud looked disappointed. It had sounded so cool.

  ‘Shut up, lad!’ Salmo Salar bristled. ‘What do you mean you’re sorry? We have the perfectly planned-out life!’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  Salmo rolled her eyes. ‘I was born, bred and buttered in different, distinct stages. Hold up, I’ll sing you my song.’ Salmo began in her deep bass voice:

  We return to the river, from the sea

  To lay our eggs, in riverbeds, carefree

  Soon, the eggs, they develop eyes

  That’s true, I’m not kidding, guys!

  Hatched alevins eat the yolk sacs

  Lunch boxes they carry on their backs

  Alevins turn into fry and look for food

  Then fry turn to parr for all that’s good

  Parr eat insects, out of water they bolt

  Soon the parr then turn into smolt

  Ready now they are to go t
o the sea

  Trek in the Atlantic for years one to three

  To Greenland and back to the native stream

  Thousands of kilometres pass by in a dream

  From salt water to fresh, we change our form

  Wander the ocean but come home to spawn

  Breed your salmon, human, wild isn’t cheaper

  I am Salmo Salar, the salmon leaper!

  Salmo was looking daggers at Hudhud by the time she finished singing.

  ‘Whoa … madame … don’t be mad! It’s not that I don’t know anything. I’ve heard about your talent of swimming against the current in rivers and jumping up to twelve feet high to cross obstacles—’

  ‘Shut up, turtle!’ Salmo’s face was drawn. ‘I’m just mad at the ones who are behind the Witch’s Tongue …’

  ‘You mean humans?’ asked Hudhud. ‘But I am not human.’

  ‘And I am not blind!’ Salmo snarled. ‘But you speak like humans—talking of revenge. You know, humans have been hunting salmon for thousands of years … in our birthing rivers, in the sea, for sport and for food. I don’t mind that we are their food, like prawns are ours. But they could have fished in moderation, letting our populations recover. Although they call us the “King of Freshwater Fish”, they have been utterly destroying our coasts and rivers. They are polluting the ocean, our home. There is such terrible overfishing that they can’t find enough wild and free-spirited salmon in the rivers and seas—so they farm us. What to do, there are so many humans to feed! Because of them the whole earth is warming up and the temperature of our rivers is rising. Our eggs won’t be able to survive in the warm waters after some time.’

  ‘Madame, you think humans have spared us?’ Hudhud bristled back. ‘We have so many horror stories too. Our Atlantic leatherback population is more or less stable. But do you have any idea what’s happening to our Pacific cousins?’

  Salmo eyed him suspiciously.