Capture at Penn Cove
Historical fiction by Sharon Mentyka
August 8, 1970
Boom! The bed shuddered. Boom! Toby bolted out of a deep sleep, arms flailing, alarm clock crashing to the floor.
Boom! There it went again-he hadn"t been dreaming. Heart pounding, Toby swung his legs over the side of his bed. The clock"s fluorescent hands glowed in the dark. Not yet six o"clock. Too early for Mom to be back from her shift at the Coupeville Motel.
"Mitch-" he called out to his older brother, "Mitch-wake up!" Fumbling in the dark, Toby flicked on his bedside lamp, squinting against the shock of sudden light. Against the opposite wall, his brother"s bed gaped.
"Mitch?" he whispered. More frightened than he"d ever been in his twelve years, Toby shrugged on his coat, stomped into his boots and bolted out of the house. The screen door banged behind him. He half expected to find his neighbors outside, but the road was empty. He shivered. Even in August, early mornings on Penn Cove were chilly. The sensible part of his brain told him to go back inside. But Mitch being gone had spooked him. Toby needed to find out what was happening.
Outside, the muffled booming continued. Toby could tell it was coming now from the cove itself-as if huge firecrackers were being set off underwater. He followed the sound, knowing he could reach the water in less than five minutes.
As the sky lightened, Toby saw the occasional spouting of whales in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Watching the big animals was a favorite pastime of Toby and Mitch, especially in August when it seemed as if every whale in the Northwest passed Whidbey Island.
Huge pods of the black and white whales-families, Mitch had told him-would travel together, rolling, bumping, and slapping their fins, having a big old party. Now, seeing the animals swimming just as usual calmed Toby. He breathed a little easier as he rounded Lovejoy Point and the familiar boat launch came into view.
But what he saw beyond the wharf made him stop dead in his tracks.
Usually at this time of day the protected cove would be quiet except for a few fishermen and clammers readying their boats and nets for a morning run. But today, a dozen or more speedboats were criss-crossing the mouth of the cove where it emptied into Saratoga Passage. He spotted seaplanes too, and overhead, helicopters whirred and circled. Toby blinked, struggling to make sense of the scene. A huge pen had been set up at the closed end of the cove. It was sloppily constructed of rough wood and nets that dropped down on four sides. Men were stationed all around, some outfitted in wet suits. He thought he heard the shrieks of whales, but that was impossible this close to shore. A cold chill ran through Toby. He felt dizzy and confused. Nets? What was happening?
Dazed by the transformation of his sleepy little cove, Toby stumbled towards the wharf to get a better view. A hand on his shoulder yanked him back. He spun around, coming face to face with a scowling security guard.
"Stop right there son," the man growled. In the man"s hand was a billy club. A small revolver nestled in a hip holster at his belt.
Toby swallowed. "I-I need to find my brother Mitch...he works out there-" he pointed down the wharf, "-with Frank Logan. They fish for mussels-" He was making no sense.
"This area"s restricted until further notice. Ain"t no fishing going on today. You better head on home." The man stared at him, waiting.
Toby took another step forward as the guard"s hand clamped down on him again, harder this time. Toby opened his mouth, but no words came out. Someone brushed past him. Toby recognized who it was-Frank Logan, Mitch"s boss. Squirming out of the guard"s grip, Toby raced after Logan.
"Mr. Logan!" Toby called, "I"m looking for my brother Mitch... is he with you?"
Logan turned. Worry lines ran across his forehead and rough stubble covered his chin. "He ain"t with me. He"s out there," Logan said, cocking his head to indicate where men were patrolling the pen. "Dang fool kid-couldn"t resist the ten bucks an hour-"
Logan"s words were drowned out by the sound of engines. The speedboats Toby had seen at the mouth of the cove roared to life. They raced towards the shore pushing masses of whales ahead of them. Toby watched in horror as the boats herded the whales into the inlet. The agile boats maneuvered in tight groups around them, cutting off any way for the animals to exit the cove. As the wave of whales flowed into the pen, Toby heard their screams and shrieks mixing with the shrill whine of boat engines.
"What are they doing?" he shouted to Logan.
"Orca captures," Logan shouted back. "For aquariums."
"Captures?" Toby stuttered, " ...of...of the whales?" His ears were ringing. He must have heard wrong.
"Ugly business. Professionals. They get an order for a dozen killer whales, they ain"t gonna say no." Frank cast a disgusted look towards the cove, then spat onto the deck. "Whatya gonna do? Best to get on home, kid."
But going home was the last thing on Toby"s mind. Without another word, Toby did an about-face and sprinted back towards the water where he now knew his brother must be. His mind was racing-there must be some mistake. Mitch loved whales. He would never get involved in something like this...would he? Toby pushed the thought out of his head. He flew past the same guard who had stopped him earlier, ignoring his angry shouts. As he ran, pitiful shrieks and screeches of the distressed whales pierced the air. Toby tried not to look, but from the corner of his eyes he could see dozens of whales thrashing around in the water. Some of the smaller ones were caught in the netting-screaming to the others and desperately trying to free themselves.
Toby spotted his brother. Mitch and three other guys in wet suits surrounded a cradle where an orca calf was already netted and lashed. A cherry picker stood by to lift the calf out of the water to a waiting boat.
Toby sank to his knees there, near the water"s edge. A million questions filled his head. Mitch met Toby"s gaze and Toby could see his brother was crying.
"Mitch-" Toby began. "Why, Mitch?"
"They said taking a few wouldn"t hurt anything. I-I didn"t know it"d be like this-" Mitch"s words came out choked. "I didn"t know they only wanted the little ones...I didn"t know-"
Toby had stopped listening. Despite the mournful shrieks of the calf"s family, the little whale stretched next to him was quiet. It was looking right at Toby. In its glassy blue eye, Toby saw the calf"s heart-stopping fear. He swallowed hard. It took every bit of strength he had not to look away. But in that moment, it was all he could offer.
Author's note: According to the National Marine Fisheries Services, between 47and 58 southern resident orcas were killed or captured between 1965 and 1973, but the Penn Cove capture on August 8, 1970 was the largest in history. On that day, up to 80 orcas were herded into Whidbey Island"s Penn Cove. Six whales were captured and five others killed in the process. Lolita, one of the young whales taken that day and sold to the Miami Seaquarium, is the remaining sole survivor of the capture years. The Penn Cove capture later inspired the Washington State government to ban all orca captures in Puget Sound and was instrumental in the establishment of the federal Marine Mammal Protection Act in 1972.
Read More About It
Whales Passing by Eve Bunting. Illustrated by Lambert Davis. New York: Blue Sky Press, 2003.
Orca: The Whale Called Killer by Erich Hoyt. Rochester, NY: Camden House (revised edition), 1990.
A Pod of Killer Whales: The Mysterious Life of the Intelligent Orca by Vicki Leon. Montrose, CA: London Town Press, 2006.
Listening to Whales: What Orcas Have Taught Us by Alexandra Morton. New York: Ballantine Books, 2002.
Author Sharon Mentyka lives in Seattle and goes whale watching with her daughter and husband as often as she can.
Illustrator Kirsten Carlson created this scene especially for COLUMBIAKids" "One Day in History."