At his swift touch, the plane reared upward and away from the danger that was rolling and heaving directly beneath. Peering out of the window at his left, Hal saw in the waters a procession of monsters. In the dusky haze of the twilight, a great school of whales were disporting themselves in hugely fantastic leaps and lunges. When a sixty-foot whale would leap high in the air, then drop its tons of weight back down against the waters, it seemed that creation shook to the concussion. At the thunder of huge bodies smashing back through the waves in their enormous fantasies of playfulness, Hal sent his ship rising higher into the air. If one of those monster bodies even brushed his wing or rudder, it would mean his plane crushed into helplessness, himself adrift upon the ocean.