could let things get out of control. I welcome the opportunity to consult with someone from the government.'
Becker thanked the captain and said, 'What do you think of this grindarap business ? '
The captain shrugged. 'I have many friends on the island. They would rather die than give up their old customs. They say it's what makes them who they are. I respect their feelings. And you?'
'I'm a Copenhagener. This whale thing seems like a big waste of time to me. But there's a great deal at stake here. The government respects the wishes of the islanders, but the boycott has hurt their fish- ing. We don't want the Faroes to lose their livelihood so that they be- come a ward of the state. Too damned expensive. To say nothing of the revenue losses to our country if the oil companies are persuaded to hold back their drilling because of this whale hunt.'
'I'm well aware that this situation is something of a morality play. All the actors know their roles exactly. The islanders have planned this grind to defy SOS and to make sure Parliament is aware of their concerns. Ryan has been just as vocal in saying he won't allow any- thing to stand in his way.'
'And you. Captain Petersen, do you know your role?' 'Of course. I just don't know how the drama ends.' Becker grunted in answer.
'Let me reassure you,' the captain said, 'the Faroe Police have been ordered to stay in the background. Under no circumstances am I to use guns. My orders are to protect the islanders from danger. I can use my judgment on how this is to be done. If the Sea Sentinel comes close enough to endanger the smaller boats, then I have the au- thority to nudge the SOS ship aside. Please excuse me, Mr. Becker. I see that the curtain is about to go up.'
From several harbors, fishing boats were racing to a disturbed area of ocean. They were moving fast, their bows up on plane, bounc- ing over the low chop. The boats were converging on a spot where the shiny black backs of a pod of pilot whales broke the surface. Fountains of spray exploded from the whales' blowholes.
The Sea Sentinel was also moving in on the whales. Petersen gave his helmsman orders. The cruiser broke out of its holding pattern.
Becker had been mulling over Petersen's earlier words.
'Tell me, Captain, when does a 'nudge' become a ram?'
'Whenever I want it to.'
'Isn't there a fine line between the two?'
Petersen told his helmsman to increase speed and set a course di- rectly toward the Sea Sentinel. Then the captain turned to Becker and gave him a grim smile.
'We're about to find out.'
2
RYAN WATCHED THE cruiser break out of its lazy circle and head toward the SOS ship. 'Looks like Hamlet finally made a decision,' he said to Chuck Mercer, his first mate, who was at the wheel of the Sea Sentinel.
The Sea Sentinel had been trying to drive the whales out to sea. The pod held about fifty pilot whales, and some of the female whales were holding back to stay with their calves, slowing the rescue at- tempt. The SOS ship zigzagged like a lone cowpoke trying to corral stray cattle, but the nervous whales made the job almost impossible.
'Like herding cats,' Ryan muttered. He went out on the star- board bridge wing to see how close the advancing whaleboats were to the pod. He had never seen so many islanders involved in a grind. It seemed as if every harbor in the Faroes had emptied out. Dozens of boats, ranging in size from commercial trawlers to open dories powered by outboard motors, were speeding from several different directions to join the hunt. The dark water was streaked with their wakes.
Therri Weld was already out on the wing, watching the armada gather. 'You've got to admire their stubbornness,' she said.
Ryan was equally awestruck. He nodded in agreement. 'Now I know how Custer felt. The Faroese are going all out to defend their bloody traditions.'
'This is no spontaneous outpouring,' Therri said. 'From the or- derly way they're moving, they've got a plan.'
The words had barely left her lips when, as if on signal, the ad- vancing fleet began to split up in a pincer movement. In a classic mil- itary flanking maneuver, the boats swept around Ryan's ship so they were on the seaward side of the slow-moving whales. They spread out in a line, facing inshore, with the pilot whales between them and the Sea Sentinel. The ends of the line began to curve slowly inward. The whales bunched closer together and moved toward shore.
Ryan was afraid of hurting the panicked whales or breaking up family units if the ship stood in place. Reluctantly, he ordered the helmsman to move the ship out of the path of the hunt.
As the Sea Sentinel moved aside, a loud chorus of triumphant cheers went up from the fishermen. The line of boats began to wrap itself around the hapless whales in a deadly embrace. The whale- boats moved forward, tightening up the line to drive their prey to the killing field, where the sharp knives and spears of the executioners awaited.
Ryan ordered Mercer to steer the Sea Sentinel out to open water.
'Giving up awfully easy,' Mercer said. 'Wait and see,' Ryan said, with an enigmatic smile. The cruiser came up alongside the Sea Sentinel like a cop escort- ing an unruly spectator from a soccer game, but when the ships were about a half mile from the whale hunt, the navy escort began to fall back. Ryan took over the wheel, frequently checking the cruisers lo- cation. When the ships were in what he judged to be the right posi- tion, he picked up the phone to the engine room. 'Full speed ahead,' he ordered.
The Sea Sentinel was a clunky wide-beamed vessel, high at both ends, with a silhouette like an old-fashioned bathtub. The slow- moving research ship was designed mainly as a stable platform from which to launch undersea instrumentation and nets. The first thing Ryan had done after SOS had acquired the ship at auction was to out- fit the engine room with powerful diesels that could push her along at a more respectable clip.
Ryan cut the wheel hard left. The ship shivered from the strain as it circled about in a great arcing swash of foam and raced back to- ward the whale hunt. Caught off-guard, the cruiser attempted to follow, but the warship couldn't match the Sea Sentinel's tight turn and went wide, losing valuable seconds.
The whale hunt had advanced to within a mile of shore when the Sea Sentinel caught up with the pod and the line of herdsmen. The SOS ship made a sharp turn that brought it across the wakes of the whaleboats. Ryan stayed at the wheel. He wanted sole responsibility in case something went wrong. His plan to disrupt the hunt required a deft touch on the helm. Too fast or too close, and the whalers would be overturned and thrown into the frigid water. He kept the ship at an even speed, using its broad beam to create a following sea. The wave hit the boats stern-on. Some boats managed to ride the wave that lifted them out of the water. Others lost headway and spun around in a wild attempt to prevent pitchpoling.
The line broke up into a disorganized jumble, leaving large open spaces between the boats, like gaps in a row of teeth. Ryan spun the wheel again and brought the Sea Sentinel around in another sharp turn that placed the ship broadside to the advancing whales. The whales fleeing the advancing whalers sensed the presence of the ves- sel, turned back in the opposite direction and began to break through the openings in the hunt line.
Now it was the turn of the Sea Sentinel's crew to cheer-but their jubilation was short-lived. The faster-moving cruiser had caught up with the SOS ship and was alongside no more than a hundred yards away, matching the Sea Sentinel's speed knot for knot. A voice speak- ing in English crackled over the radio.
'This is Captain Petersen of the LeifErilsson calling the SOS ves- sel Sea Sentinel.)
Ryan snatched up the microphone. 'This is Captain Ryan. What can I do for you, Captain Petersen?'
'You are requested to move your ship to open water.' 'We are acting in accordance with international law.' He gave Therri a crooked grin. 'My legal advisor is standing here by my side.'
'I don't intend to debate the finer points of the law with you or your advisors, Captain Ryan. You are endangering Danish fishermen. I have the authority to use force. If you don't move immediately, I will blow your ship out of the water.'
The gun turret on the frigate's fore deck turned so that the barrel was pointed directly at the Sea Sentinel.
'That's a dangerous game you're playing,' Ryan said with delib- erate calmness. 'A bad shot could miss us and
