Half asleep, Peter Devries spotted her. She dove beneath Acheiver, pushing ripples across the black water of the still dawn. It sent the normally reserved Canadian surf phenom shouting to wake us. Jolted out of our dream states, we scrambled from our bunks to share in his disbelief. A family of killer whales drew lazy circles around us. In bursts of speed, followed by glide, they churned the water to slap against our steel hull. We stood in silent awe. Then, mere inches off of our port side, a calf turned and raised an eye out of the water. She had requested an audience.