Free Hunting the Dragon by Peter Dixon

dolphins were ramming into the net trying to force an opening with their beaks. Flukes beat the water into froth, bodies quivered from intense exertion, but the webbing stopped their futile fight to escape.
    At the outer edge of the pod the skiff turned and roared back toward the ship to complete the encirclement. Five minutes later the trap was closed and Rocha slowed the engine to idle. They peered over the side and the boatman yelled, “Looking good, Billy!”
    “Where are the tuna?”
    “Down there deep…tons of ’em. You’ll see ’em when the net comes in. Man, we’re going to be ricos !”
    Billy leaned over the gunwale and cupped both hands over his eyes to shield the glare. In the lee of the hull, where the boat cast a shadow, he peered through the incredibly clear water. It was almost like looking through a diving mask. Below, a thrashing mix of dolphins and tuna charged about in the wide expanse of net. His gaze shifted along the curtain of mesh where a few of the dolphins had entangled their beaks and fins in the webbing. With a gasp, Billy realized that the ensnared air-breathing dolphins were drowning.
    On the bridge the captain turned from watching the net. He was pleased that all had gone well, and with the sea calm and no wind, they would have the catch aboard quickly. He called to the radar operator. “Anything on the scope?”
    “All clear.”
    He picked up the walkie-talkie and keyed the transmit button. “Mr. Santos, you may haul the net.”
    Out of the speaker the mate’s filtered voice inquired, “Will you wish to order a back-down? It’s calm. We would release most of them.”
    “With Salvador over the horizon?”
    “As you ordered, captain.”
    In the skiff, Billy and Rocha faced the stern of Lucky Dragon watching the net being drawn slowly out of the sea. Sunlight glistened off droplets of water falling from the mesh creating thousands of flashing, diamond-like sparkles. Even from where they drifted Billy could see struggling dolphins and thrashing tuna entangled in the shrinking circumference of the net. Then he caught sight of the sharks, two turtles, and many other trapped fish—the accidental catch that would be discarded when the net was pulled.
    Rocha muttered softly, “He’s not going to back down. I don’t like to see this.”
    “Back down…?”
    “That’s when the captain backs the ship up, and revs up the propeller. That causes part of the net to sink so the dolphins can get out. American skippers used to do it all the time. They save almost all of ’em…. My grandfather told me about it.”
    Billy saw that the narrower the net’s circumference, the more chaotic the trapped dolphins became. He wondered why they didn’t simply jump over the corkline holding up the net. With the slightest effort they would be swimming free.
    “Why the hell don’t they jump out?” Billy demanded.
    “They just don’t. I guess it’s instinct. They never had a net around ’em till maybe thirty-five years ago, but I heard there’s a pod off Mexico that does. The fisherman call them ‘The Immortals.’” He saw that Rocha was edgy. “Ach, Billy. Shut the hell up, will you?” The haunted look Billy had seen on Rocha’s face when they had discovered him sitting in the skiff crying had returned.
    Billy looked across the net which had been drawn into a third of its original size. Nearby a dolphin was attempting to nudge a pup over the corkline. The little creature wouldn’t make the leap. Again and again the mother shoved the pup with her beak until Billy screamed at them, “Jump! Jump! Just do it!”
    He was furious at the stupidity of the dolphins. A snail could have made it over the net’s rim. Without thinking, Billy peeled off his shirt and moved to dive off the skiff. He felt Rocha’s hand on his arm and heard him yell, “There are sharks in there. You want to end up in the freezer?”
    He looked at the pup. Half its short beak projected over the corkline, and its tail