Meetings


In the Still of the Night
Jane Tollesrud

Once upon the sea, while crossing an isolated stretch of the Pacific near the Galapagos Islands, our small craft was swallowed by a cloudless, moonless night. It was as deep and dark and rich as the vacuum of space. Stars by the billions littered the sky, and the water below was rich with bioluminescence—oceanic stars stretching out in every direction, meeting the sky, erasing the edges between air and water. We were flying through timelessness.

Suddenly, off the starboard bow, barely perceptible coming from so far a distance, a torpedo shot through the water, its direct line was made visible by the shimmering plankton. We were its absolute, immanent target. The crew gathered together, speculating. What was this?!? And over there—another trail rapidly approaching! Port side—a third! Each effervescent track line had its unwavering destination; all were bulleting directly towards us like laser guided missiles.

The forerunner was close now, only seconds away. Abruptly, the instant before contact, the first light-line skidded with impossible perfection and leaped out of the water mere inches in front of the boat. A dolphin! The second torpedo did the same . . . and the third. Within ten minutes, over a dozen dolphins materialized from nowhere to surf the bow wave, each vaulting and springing into the shadowy air to be engulfed by the darkness, each returning to the brilliantly lit, glowing waters where their sleek bodies became eerily visible, like speedy, neon ghosts.

For nearly an hour, the dolphins frolicked with reckless abandon, performing for us like exuberant circus artists. We, their appreciative audience, responded with explosions of whoops and cheers like those heard during a magnificent fireworks finale. They boasted, vaulting and dancing into the air, shamelessly displaying their acrobatic talents, clicking and splashing, crossing under the boat, or each other, never losing the lead with their impressive velocity, nor seeming the least bit tired or rushed.

And then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they vaporized, sinking below into the inky depths, disappearing under the luminous sparkles. Vanished. The boat, speeding ahead, crossed a line in the water that was as clear as if it had been painted on a globe, leaving behind the impressive field of bioluminescence and entering the dark waters whose only light was the reflection of the stars.

We buzzed excitedly, sharing our amazing encounter, but gradually calmed to gaze out at the endless sea, each lost in an inner reflection of the beauty, the experience, the miracle. Quiet descended upon us like a thick fog. Alone, we sailed into the night stars.



Jane Tollefsrud lives in Homer, Alaska, and teaches grades 4 through 6 at the Moose Point Learning Center.