Boy Who Fell Overboard

Steve Rush, a young Canadian First Nations boy, is known as “Tututshinuk,” which means “singing songs of the thunderbird.” The following is his story:

“When I was eight years old, I worked on a commercial fishing boat with my father. It was 1951, and we were fishing off the west coast of Vancouver Island near a place called Hot Springs Cove (formerly called Refuge Cove). 

We’d had good day fishing and were cleaning our catch when Dad became tired and needed a nap. He told me to keep the boat heading in a straight direction toward land.  We were about seven or eight miles from shore.

I was still cleaning fish when I heard a call coming in on the radio phone, which was on the boom at the stern of the boat. We had a rope rigged with knots so that we would have quicker access to the deck. I grabbed the rope to pull myself up to get to the deck. As I was doing so, a wave tilted the boat sideways. Covered in fish slime, my hands slipped off the rope, and I fell overboard.

As soon as I hit the water, I knew there was no use in screaming for help as Dad was fast asleep next to the engine. He’d never hear me. The water was cold, and the boat kept moving further away from me. I was in trouble.

I started to feel afraid, but then I remembered my grandmother telling me that when I needed help, I should pray to the Creator. She always told me it was important to be in a positive state of mind when praying, and that I should pray knowing that my prayer would be answered. In my language, I prayed to the Creator to help me in some way.

When I felt something nudge me, I looked about and spotted a curved dorsal fin. At first, I thought it might be a shark. But when it didn’t immediately attack me, I decided I’d be okay. Besides, a shark’s fin would have a straight edge, and the Creator would not send a shark to help me. Whatever was swimming nearby, it wasn’t a shark.

When I saw the fin again, I suddenly knew that I should grab hold of it. As I did, with a powerful surge of energy, whatever I’d latched onto propelled me toward the boat. There was a rubber bumper and a rope hanging off the side. I grabbed hold of the rope, climbed over the bumper, and pulled myself aboard.

When I made my way to the stern and looked into the water, I spotted a pod of dolphins close to the boat. With the palms of my hands upward, I stretched out my arms in my people’s prayer position and thanked the dolphins and the Creator. Two of the dolphins rose out of the water and up on their tails as they made clicking and chattering sounds. It seemed like they were talking to me.

When the boat rolled sideways again, my dad woke up and asked me what I was doing. I said, “Communicating with the dolphins.” It was an odd thing for me to say because, at the time, I didn’t even know what the word communicating meant.

My teachings are to be grateful, which I am. I am grateful for all my blessings and for the Creator and the dolphins who responded to my prayers that day. Every time I return to that cove, I offer a prayer of gratitude.” 

After our conversation, I transcribed Steve’s story and sent it to my artist friend, Dolphin Dave, to capture in a drawing. Once the painting was completed, I gifted it to Steve and read him the story I’d transcribed. With tears in his eyes, he said, “This is the first time I have heard this story said back to me.”

Blessings,

Hannelore

This story is included in my book, Dolphins, Whales & Magical Tails