Next to it was a hunting knife in a plastic sheath. He had brought it in case they tried fishing. Now it had a new purpose. Catherine steadied the boat about twenty yards from the whale’s side, engine running in neutral. It was close enough for John to swim but far enough—she hoped—to stay safe.
He tied a safety line around his waist and clipped it to the boat. The knife felt strangely familiar in his hand. “If it thrashes,” Catherine said, clearly tense, “you let go and swim back.” He kissed her hand. “Yup, I promise. But if things go bad, start pulling me in.”