Gabriel Armour stands on the aft of the sleek teak-and-leather tender and gets right to the point: “I’m big, I’m bad, and I’m ready for action!”
The bachelor sperm whales visiting the Caribbean island of Dominica don’t speak—at least not in the way humans understand speech. But Armour, who grew up swimming alongside these creatures and works for local outfitter Diving With Giants, is doing his best translation of their cetacean courting calls. The crew unties our smaller transport boat from the $100 million superyacht, Solace, and Armour pops on his sunglasses: “Who’s ready for daddy?”
On the small craft zipping across the choppy sea, I imagine what’s happening under the waves. The deep waters close to shore create a safe calving ground for pregnant mother whales, with an abundant buffet of giant squid the size of Mini Coopers. I ask Armour the depth. “Fifteen hundred meters,” he replies: nearly 5,000 feet. I’m ready neither for daddy, nor to swim in that.
Adrenaline doesn’t care what you’re ready for. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” someone shouts from the front of the tender. “Group two in the water—now!” I mash my feet into fins, strap on a mask, and plop into the two-foot swells behind Armour.
