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heard.” She knew she was exaggerating, but only slightly. The whales echoed the whole chorus of the natural world.
    Elizabeth took out the tape, labeled it, and carefully packed it away with the others in her equipment bag. She put a fresh tape inthe player and packed it in its yellow waterproof case. Like a professional photographer who always makes sure her camera is ready to shoot, Elizabeth always made sure she was ready to record. She felt a tinge of sadness. She wouldn’t be making more recordings until next January, when she would return for the beginning of the whale season.
    “Is a mama whale?” Milton’s son said at last, after thinking about Elizabeth’s explanation of a contact call.
    “Generally, it is the mothers who use the call, but in this case, it’s a male who’s singing. Only the boys sing.” It was strange to find these particular sounds, usually spoken between mother and child, in one of the songs, sung by a male.
    The wooden slatted front door burst open.
    “What is it?” Elizabeth asked as she stood up.
    Milton had his hands on his knees and was trying to catch his breath. He was clearly in a panic. “Teo gone to get the whale family.”

FIVE
    6:35 A.M.
    E LIZABETH AND M ILTON ran down the cracked concrete steps from the road, knowing that at any moment Teo could dig his killing lance into Echo, Sliver, or the baby. They looked down to make sure they didn’t miss a step and then at each landing looked up and out at the horizon, scanning for the whaleboat. With one hand Elizabeth clutched her binoculars, and with the other she clasped her yellow case to her side to stop it from swinging and to protect the hydrophone inside. She had grabbed both instinctively when Milton had shouted to her, but now she regretted having the case, since it was slowing her down. Still, she managed to stay just a step behind Milton. Her feet knew the stairs, having descended them so many times in the predawn dark.
    After stepping over a large rock in the path, Elizabeth was finally down at the beach. Half a dozen fishing boats, each painted a unique combination of bright colors, were hauled up on the sand. Milton and Elizabeth threw down the wooden skids, worn smooth and shiny by the hulls of countless boats. Each was the width of a forearm, and they laid them out like railroad ties.
    Even without help, they could push the small green-and-yellow boat into the shallow water. Elizabeth hoisted herself into the boat, her lungs still burning. She tried to calm her breathing and scanned the horizon with her binoculars.
    Milton released the pin and quickly lowered the Evinrude 35into the water. He yanked on the starter cable. The engine sputtered but refused to turn over. Milton pulled on it again, but after the whine and complaint, nothing. Another six pulls, and Milton flipped back the engine cover. Elizabeth’s stomach was twisting as she looked back at him.
    “Is the damn wire.” Milton jiggled a loose wire and lowered the cover. He kissed the tips of his fingers and then touched them to a sticker of the Virgin Mary that was stuck strategically to the engine cover. He again primed the hand pump on the tubing from the red gas tank and then gave the starter cable one last pull. The engine sputtered to life.
    Milton gave the engine full throttle. Elizabeth’s unbraided hair was blowing behind her. They were soon cutting through the waves and banging down into the troughs as they sped past Semple Cay. Elizabeth’s heart was in her throat as she looked at the sterile white and gray whaling station. She shook from her mind the image of three carcasses—Echo, Sliver, and the baby—lying dead on the concrete ramp.
    “Can’t this boat go any faster? He’s not going to remember Sliver,” Elizabeth shouted back to Milton. She thought of the promise that Teo had made her many years ago. Echo was the first whale she had identified, and Sliver the first mother. She had made those two whales real for Teo as she