(from Chapter 30, pages 314--315)

"Tokyo," said Whizzer. "People on the street pointed at me... Mr. Dolphin. Irukusan. My Kawana harbor footage played all over Japanese television."

How many fantastic experiences he’d never told me about, assuming he already had — that idea tripped me up... then I asked, "What were you doing in Kawana harbor?" Later I learned Kawana harbor is on the Izu peninsula, sixty miles south of Tokyo.

"Saving dolphins." He paused, trying to get more oxygen into his blood.... "Know how they’d catch a whole pod... every single one?"

"A purse seine?"

"Yeah. But first, underwater noisemakers to disorient ‘em. Catch a few, hang ‘em by their tails. Beat ‘em, stab ‘em, slit their skin with razors, use their cries to get everybody rushing in to help. Then slip a net around the pod. Fuckers. Capitalizing on dolphin compassion so they could slaughter ‘em for pig feed and fertilizer. People ate ‘em too. But dolphin’s strong and fishy, cheapest meat of all in Japan. And there’s the mercury. Once a week, September through December, best profitable gig was rounding up dolphins. Patrick went with me, a Canadian, eh. We found out fast there was no way those fishermen could relate to such precious creatures as dolphins. Beings with intelligence capacity par with humans. The dolphins that is, not those fishermen. Ignorant. Superstitious. To them, dolphins were like cows or chickens. We had to try a different angle."

Latent power of this lifted his voice, put glints of the old fury in his eyes. "Dolphin meat had ten times the Japanese mercury limit. We drew up warning ads, but local newspapers wouldn’t print ‘em. Time for direct action. Wet suits."

He took several metered deep breaths as if stoking himself for: "Slaughter time. Kawana harbor. Hundreds of dolphins in pens. Dolphins dragged to shore all around me. I treaded water all day, holding up a big sign. Don’t Kill the Dolphins! it said in Japanese and English. The harbor was red from blood pouring off docks where they sliced open live dolphins and pulled out their guts. God, Lude, the faces. The lizard eyes. The harpoons. Those stemmer slantys sure burned to spear me. Out there in bloody harbor with my bloody sign... footage of it stopped the slaughter. For three weeks."