We were barely five minutes from the shore when the dolphins appeared, their splashing visible along the distinct line between the earthy-red of the landmasses and the deep blue of the Caribbean. At the tiller, Jhonny (the silent Spanish “J” affording him an unusual title) made a beeline for them, attracting their attention by rhythmically thumping the side of the boat. Momentarily distracted by the new playmate, the dolphins swam alongside, darting in and around the hull before tiring of our slow speed and breaking away in search of breakfast.
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