Dolphin Island

Dr. Keith was a man in his forties, and looked like a college professor. Even though he was sitting behind his desk, Johnny could see that he was unusually tall and gangling; he was also the first white person he had seen on the island.

The doctor waved Johnny to a chair, saying in a slightly nasal voice as he did so, “Sit down, sonny.”

Johnny didn’t like being called “sonny,” nor did he like the doctor’s Australian accent, which he had never before encountered at close quarters. But he said, “Thank you,” very politely, sat down, and waited for the next move.

It was completely unexpected. “Perhaps you’d better begin by telling us,” said Dr. Keith, “just what happened to you—after the Santa Anna went down.”

Johnny stared at him openmouthed, all his plans in ruins. They had been only half-formed plans, but he had at least hoped that he could pose for a little while as a shipwrecked sailor suffering from loss of memory. But if they knew how he had traveled, they also knew where he had come from, and he would undoubtedly be sent home at once.

He decided not to give up without a fight.

“I’ve never heard of the Santa—whatever her name is,” he replied innocently.

“Give us credit for a little intelligence, sonny. When you came ashore in such a novel manner, we naturally radioed the coast guard to find if any ships had been lost. They told us that the crew of the hoverfreighter Santa Anna had put in at Brisbane, reporting that their ship had sunk about a hundred miles east of us. However, they also reported that everyone had been saved, even the ship’s cat.

“So that seemed to rule out the Santa Anna, until we had the bright idea that you might be a stowaway. After that, it was just a matter of checking with the police along the Santa Anna’s route.” The doctor paused for a moment, picked up a briar pipe from his desk, and examined it as if he’d never seen such an object before. It was at this point that Johnny decided that Dr. Keith was just playing with him, and his initial dislike went up a few more degrees.

“You’d be surprised how many boys still run away from home,” continued that annoying voice. “It took several hours to find out who you were—and I must say that when we called your Aunt Martha, she didn’t sound particularly grateful. I don’t really blame you for clearing out.”

Perhaps Dr. Keith wasn’t so bad after all. “What are you going to do with me, now I’m here?” asked Johnny. He realized, to his alarm, that there was a slight quiver in his voice and that tears of disappointment and frustration were not far away.

“There’s not much that we can do at the moment,” said the doctor, raising Johnny’s hopes at once. “Our boat’s over at the mainland and won’t be back until tomorrow. It will be a week after that before it sails again, so you have eight days here that you can count on.”

Eight days! His luck was still holding out Many things could happen in that time—and he would make sure that they did.

In the next half hour, Johnny described his ride back from the wreck while Dr. Keith made notes and asked questions. Nothing about the story seemed to surprise him, and when Johnny had finished, he pulled a sheaf of, photographs out of his desk drawer. They were pictures of dolphins; Johnny had no idea that there were so many different varieties.

“Could you identify your friends?” the doctor asked.

“I’ll try,” said Johnny, riffling through the prints. He quickly eliminated all but three probables and two possibles.

Dr. Keith looked quite satisfied with his choice of dolphins.

“Yes,” he said, “it would have to be one of those.” Then he asked Johnny a very odd question.

“Did any of them speak to you?”

At first Johnny thought he was joking; then he saw that Dr. Keith was perfectly serious.

“They made all sorts of noises—squeaks and whistles and barks—but nothing that I could understand.”

“Nothing like this?” asked the doctor. He pressed a button on his desk, and from a loud-speaker at the side of the office came a sound like a rusty gate creaking on its hinges. Then there was a string of noises that reminded Johnny of an old-fashioned gas engine starting up, and, after that, clearly and unmistakably, “Good morning, Doctor Keith.”

The words were spoken more quickly than a man could utter them, but they were perfectly distinct. And even then, on that first hearing, Johnny knew that he was not listening to a mere echo or a parrotlike repetition. The animal that said, “Good morning, Doctor Keith,” had known exactly what it was doing.

“You seem surprised,” chuckled the doctor. “Hadn’t you heard that dolphins could speak?”

Johnny shook his head.