I do a somersault for her attention, but again she is a shadow, dissolving in the vista.
I dive to the seabed, five metres below and run a finger through the sand ripples, looking for hidden life. I know she is about me, but do not expect her above. Her shadow falls upon me and when I go up for air she lovingly swings her fluke by a hair’s breadth from my face.
In a bit of a wave the double buoys are hard to find, so before I go in I draw a virtual line along them between two points discernable from the water. The buoys go down by a rope clad in weeds and connect to a chain allowing for the pull of the tides. I hoist up the chain by a length of the rope and drop it into a rattle. She hangs around the source of the sound, head down, nearly vertical, eyes wide open and ripe with curiosity. She turns around the clatter, near belly up as if waiting for a miracle to come. I go down again and grab hold of the chain that is anchored by several large metal weights. Thus I can, without effort, stay under water longer. Now she is enthralled by wonder. Like me she nearly sits on the seabed. Then I have to end our investigations for lack of air and shoot up to the surface.