Land Friends and family waited for the fishermen as the Cardinal docked. The harbormaster was there, along with people he had called: John Stock from Monterey Zoo, and Gwen Rashod, a reporter, and a photographer, both from the Monterey Herald.
The first mate untied the finmen from the flagpole, and tied coils of rope around each of their bodies and flarms, and then a line, like a leash. As the fishermen disembarked, Jake and his crewmen surrounded the finmen. Leading them like prisoners, the gangplank groaned under their weight.
When the finmen walked along the wooden dock, people waiting there stepped back, giving them room. "What are they?" people asked. One of the finmen stepped on Jake's heel, tripping him. He turned around and glared. While the fishermen assured their friends and relatives they were harmless, the photographer took pictures and a crowd gathered. Inside the crowd, John Stock watched in awe. What is this? He wondered.
"My name is Jake Sica, captain of the Cardinal, and we caught these creatures on my boat," Jake announced. "Let me show you." He yanked on one of the rope leashes, but the creature barely budged. He yanked harder, and the creature fell on the dock. Jake barked orders, hollering at his crew to pick the creature up.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Joe shouted. His face turned red and he tossed his cowboy hat aside.
"I caught them so I'll do what I want with them and this one here is a fucking mook!" Jake said. The creature was on his knees, trying to stand back up.
"You didn't catch them. Dolphins led us to them. They came to the boat and I pulled them up. That doesn't mean you own them and it sure as hell doesn't mean you can abuse them."
"Hey guys!" Joe called his friends. "Get back here!" Soon the fishermen surrounded Jake and his crew. "You're a god damn asshole! Let them go!"
"Fuck you! I ain't letting them go, just so you can have them!" Jake glared at Joe, clenching his fists.
People shouted and screamed. "Stop! This isn't necessary." A man stepped between Joe and Jake, separating them with outstretched arms. "My name is John Stock. I'm a marine biologist from Monterey Zoo. Why don't you let me take temporary custody of them? They'll need quarantine and a medical exam. You can worry about who owns them later. In the meantime, the zoo can keep them safe."
"That sounds OK to me," Joe agreed. "You'll do what's best for the animals, won't you, Mr. Stock?"
John nodded his head.
"Yeah Jake, lighten up," the harbormaster, said.
Jake scowled and looked at the crowd. "All right, give me your business card, Mr. Stock." He inspected the card and put it in his pocket. "You men here are witness to the fact that we own these animals and that they're being turned over to Mr. Stock for temporary custody. And, Mr. Stock," Jake pointed his finger, "we ain't paying nothing for their custody expenses either, you understand?"
"Yeah, that'll be fine. Let me inspect them now. Has anyone called the police?"
"They're on the way, but their paddy wagon is in the shop," the harbormaster said. A moment later, a squad car arrived. Two officers stepped out, got witness statements and called for backup.
John untied one of the creatures and conducted a brief visual inspection, staring at its arms and legs in disbelief, checking its mouth, flatter than a dolphin, its fin, flukes, genitals and blowhole.
The creature stood and made whistling sounds, while John walked around it. Don't fear us. We won't hurt you.
John looked startled. "Did you hear him say something?" John asked.
"I heard whistling noises, like a dolphin," someone said.
"They look like dolphins," John declared, "but where did these arms and legs come from? I've never seen anything like this! It's absolutely phenomenal! This is a major scientific discovery!"
He touched it, and felt the smooth texture of the creature's skin all the way down the arm to the structure of bones in his hand. "What in the world is this? I can't believe it! A human arm with webbed hands?"
John asked one of the officers to accompany him in the Monterey Zoo van, the other one to follow in their patrol car. The police agreed and the officers held the small crowd at bay while they walked to the van. With police assistance, John untied the finmen and then secured them in the back seats. Since they were quiet and compliant, he allowed their flarms to be free so they would be more comfortable. The officer sat in the back with them.
After they settled into the van, John called the zoo on his cell phone, requesting additional security. Gwen, the Monterey Herald reporter, asked to ride to the zoo with them. He agreed and, by that time, the backup patrol car arrived. The photographer bought up the rear of a four-vehicle convoy.
John's wife had made a CD of good old rock-and-roll songs for him and he put it into the player. Sitting in the front seat, Gwen kept looking back at them. "Looks like they're having a good time," she said.
"Yeah, seems they like the music," John glanced at the rear view mirror and smiled. "They're swaying to the music. I'm amazed."
"Don't Be Cruel," an old Elvis classic, played and the finmen whistled "whoo, whoo, whoo," backing up the song.
"Wow! What a story!" Gwen laughed. "Who's going to believe they make music?" She turned back to watch them. "They're clapping their hands to the beat."
"Are you kidding?" John glanced in the mirror again. "What's that? Did I hear some words?" John pulled over on the shoulder of the road. He opened the side door and inspected the finmen again. "What the hell is this? They have vocal cords? How can that be? My God, what do we have here?"
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