Of Dolphins And Sailors

It was a beautiful night in October. The stars were sprinkled across the sky like a shimmering fine dust, and the moon cast a beautiful glow over the ocean. We were about three nautical miles off the coast near Ratnagiri, Maharashtra, on a 24-foot-long sailing yacht. A strong and steady breeze from the north-east filled the sails, and the only sound audible was that of water splashing against the hull as our boat cut through the water. We were undertaking a nearly 280-nautical-mile voyage from Mumbai to Goa. After having miraculously survived the first three days (and two nights) of this journey without incident, we were now powering south towards Vengurla, home to the infamous ‘Vengurla Rocks’ – a minefield for any coastal cruising vessel with several dangerous rocks hidden below the water’s surface.

An experienced off-shore sailor would have had a good navigation plan to negotiate this stretch. But, contrary to what I had been told when I was signing up, the crew I had joined was neither experienced, nor did it have a plan. In fact, a majority of the members of the ‘well-trained’ crew conveniently chose to retreat into the cabin and fall asleep at this opportune time. I was left at the helm with just one other person to help control the sails and navigate the boat under the cloak of darkness. Not knowing what else to do, I set a course that took us away from the shore. A wide crossing would cause delays, but it seemed like the safer option. But, clearly, my ‘safe path’ wasn’t quite safe enough.

As we drew closer to Vengurla, a dolphin suddenly emerged beside the boat, leaping high out of the water and instantly grabbing my attention. In a matter of seconds, the rest of the pod emerged. We now had nearly 20 dolphins swimming beside the boat. It was a feast for the eyes. The dolphins had clearly come with a purpose. Once they had been seen, they swam ahead and positioned themselves on the landward side, between the boat and the shore. They seemed to intentionally swim dangerously close to the boat, causing me to alter my course to try and avoid running into them. As a consequence, our boat continued to move further away from the coast. They stayed at our bow, and nudged me to navigate as per their swimming patterns.

After over half an hour, they suddenly dove under the boat, and emerged on the other side, now guiding us onto a course that would take us closer to land again and back onto our original navigation path. A few minutes later, they simply vanished without a trace. I had been so focused on avoiding a collision with the dolphins that I had forgotten about the dreaded crossing of Vengurla. Now that they were gone, I looked at our navigation device and understood that we had successfully crossed the tricky section – without incident.

Some might call it coincidence, but to this day, I am convinced that those dolphins appeared to show us a safe passage through those treacherous waters. If I had not been there myself, I would have considered this to be just another sailor’s yarn. But, having experienced this, I will never again be quick to dismiss any tales of the almost mystical occurrences in the life of an ocean-goer