Hi guys! Here's the concluding chapter. Thank you for reading and your lovely comments - I appreciate it. (The country flags mentioned in the first paragraph are a nod to all of you; the countries of my readers! :)

The whale was suddenly alone in the water.

The mast of a sailing yacht, strung with small brightly coloured flags from a hundred different nations glided slowly into view over the waves; mementos from the U.S., the U.K., Hungary, Romania, South Africa, Germany, Portugal, China, Hong Kong, Iceland, New Zealand. The Australian Red Ensign fluttered proudly from the stern and a small dinghy bobbed along behind.

An elderly man's voice floated across the water. "I'm sure I saw a spout somewhere over here…" the young humpback chose that exact moment to blow, and a tall column of spray blasted into the air. The man whooped. "Thar she blows!"

Then came a woman's voice. "Oh the poor thing – look Pete, it's caught in one of those bloody shark nets!"

Unseen, the pod surfaced and peeked out from beneath the bow at the land people on board. A man and a woman, both in their mid-sixties but tanned and fit-looking, balanced easily on the rolling deck. Moving with the relaxed confidence of lifelong boaties they hove to at a safe distance, then looked over at Quasimodo with an air of concern. He'd started thrashing again.

The man's voice came again. "Yeah, it looks like he's a bit caught up there Jo. Better get on the blower and call the cavalry." He was on the ship to shore radio for several minutes while the woman, Jo, kept watch. While she watched the whale she had the sudden feeling she herself was being watched; the back of her neck prickled. She turned, spooked, towards the bow, but of course there was nothing there. She chided herself: she was being silly. Maybe it's just the whale who's watching me, she thought. They are very intelligent and curious after all.

The man – Pete – finished the call and made some adjustments to the yacht's drift. "They said it could take an hour for them to get here love – fancy a cuppa while we wait?" The woman's reply was lost as the couple disappeared belowdecks.

The pod, still hidden, watched them disappear and breathed a sigh of relief; they were nervous about staying by the boat but not wanting to leave until they could help their new friend.

"He probably called someone at SeaWorld. " Zac whispered to the girls. "They do heaps of wildlife rescues."

Lyla whispered in frustration, "Why don't they go? We can't pull off the net and stay invisible at the same time!"

Rita answered reasonably, "I suppose they want to make sure the whale is okay, just like we do. It doesn't matter who rescues him."

Half an hour later, rescue still hadn't arrived and Zac and the mermaids were getting worried as Quasimodo's movements were becoming more and more desperate. Each breath he took made a rattling, wheezing sound and he seemed to be finding it harder to surface.

Pete sounded worried. "Look at him, he can barely keep his blowhole out the water. God knows how long he's been here for already, fighting to breathe – they only check the nets every so often. The poor blighter might not last another couple of hours." The elderly man took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, seemingly deep in thought. He appeared to reach a decision.

"Grab the tiller for me would you, love?"

He disappeared through the hatch into the galley. A short time later he reappeared with a sturdy kitchen knife.

His wife gave him a look. "And just what do you think you're doing with that?"

"Don't stress Jo, I'm just having a squiz." Pete replied, as offhandedly as he could manage.

Jo wasn't buying it. "Sure you're just going to look. With my good knife and all."

In reply he fiddled with his hearing aid and moved to the stern. He pulled the dinghy over, climbed in and rowed briskly out to the struggling whale as the watching merfolk bumped into each other in their haste to find a safe place to watch from.

Pete steered the dinghy straight for the whale. Nixie's jaw dropped. "What does he think he's doing?"

Zac made a soft sound of approval. "DUDE! I think he's going to cut off the net!"

Sirena whispered, "Is he going to be okay? I can never tell how old landpeople are but - he has white hair – he must be reeeally old!"

Lyla looked at Rita, her blue eyes worried. "Could you tell Quasimodo to hold still? And that the man's trying to help him?"

Rita put one ear underwater and listened intently for a moment. Then she smiled. "He already knows."

Sure enough, as the dinghy neared the humpback, he quietened, and Pete was able to lean over and saw carefully at the ropes that crisscrossed Quasimodo's back. He cut as many as he could reach, then backed away; the humpback could move much more freely, but it became obvious he was still anchored to the drum line. Peter returned to the yacht and disappeared belowdecks, re-emerging moments later carrying goggles and flippers.

His wife went over to him. "Pete, please be careful."

Pete gave her a hug. "I will Jo, no worries. I think the old boy's all tuckered out anyway. I'll be back in a jiff."

Jo gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "For luck. Because I really don't fancy sailing this thing home all by myself. Plus it's your turn to cook tea tonight!" They laughed together, then Jo took the tiller. Pete pulled on his swimming gear and jumped overboard.

The pod vanished the second he entered the water. They watched in silent admiration as he swam over to Quasimodo and laboriously hacked away at the knot of ropes and netting that held him. It took quite a while, as Jo's good knife seemed to be dulling on the tough, barnacled rope, but eventually the tangles fell away. That's when it became clear that the chains of the drum line were still wrapped tightly around the humpback's tail. Pete turned and kicked back to the yacht, climbing wearily aboard. His wife put a consoling arm around him. "Ah Jo, I couldn't get the last bit. What I wouldn't give for some boltcutters!" he pounded the rail in frustration.

The pod reappeared under the bow, whispering excitedly. "He's nearly done it!" Zac looked hopefully at Rita. "We haven't got boltcutters, but..." He trailed off.

"He's sliced the rope and net to pieces," Rita murmured thoughtfully. "I don't think they'll be looking too closely at it now. Let's finish the job."

They dived deep to remain safely out of sight, then stayed close to Quasimodo's large body so he shielded them from view. They gathered in a semicircle, looked at each other and nodded. They focused their powers on one link of the chain, and after a few seconds it suddenly sheared itself in two with an audible plink. The whale came to life, shaking himself free and slowly swimming away.

Lyla, Nixie, Sirena, Zac and Rita all grinned at each other and tagged along, gliding along beneath him like a family of remoras.

The young whale seemed quite exhausted by his ordeal, but he rolled onto his side, lifted his 3 metre long pectoral fin straight up into the air, then brought it down onto the surface of the water with a resounding crack. He did this several times, each slap loud as a gunshot, before righting himself and continuing on his way, calling his thanks to the pod as well.

Up on the boat, Pete and Jo were ecstatic, cheering madly and hugging each other in excitement. Another boat, sporting the SeaWorld logo on the hull, then arrived, and after following the whale for a while to check on him, circled back to give the elderly couple a happy thumbs up before turning back for the coast. After the second boat left, the pod surfaced at a safe distance behind the yacht, laughing and talking excitedly.

"I can't believe he did that!" exclaimed Nixie. "I'd never have thought land people would go to so much trouble to help a whale! He could've been hurt or something!"

Zac got a little defensive at that. "Are you kidding?! Of course we would! I mean," he corrected sheepishly, "of course they would! Whenever there's whales stranded on a beach loads of people turn up with buckets and tractors and boats to keep them wet and get them back in the water. Dolphins too!"

Sirena added crossly, "And Nixie, have you forgotten how David tried to stop his brother from chasing you with his boat that time? Lots of land people care about the ocean, just like us!" Nixie had forgotten, and had the grace to look abashed. Perhaps land people weren't so bad after all, she thought, if they were willing to help sea creatures in trouble.

Rita understood how she was feeling - she remembered how scared she'd been when she'd first ventured onto land – all the stories she'd heard about the cruelty of land people and the horrible things they did to the oceans...! She'd since learned that most people weren't like that at all; if something bad was happening they tried to stop it. They are just like us, she'd realised. Well, in some ways, at least.

The pod turned back to the yacht, now disappearing into the distance, the man and his wife still with their arms around each other. They all made a mental note of the name on the stern - Torokina II.

From that day on the Torokina II was an extremely lucky boat. Pete and Jo were amazed; they put it down to karma, which they hadn't ever believed in before but after the thing with the whale they felt they didn't really have a choice. You see, every time they cast a line –with or without bait – they caught a fish. Usually a nice mackerel or tuna, but occasionally, (when the pod were feeling particularly generous), even a gorgeous black kingfish. And when they sailed near Mako Island even stranger things happened; one time Pete was quietly reading the paper when a large snapper suddenly flew over the railing and landed in his lap.