In Gabon Mike Fay contacted the dictator Omar Bongo and proposed that they must establish national parks to protect the rain forest of the sparsely populated country. President Bongo allocated more than 10 per cent of Gabon’s land to 13 national parks.
His explanation for his collaboration with the dictator was simple. It was better to work with him than to watch the final remains of the African rainforest disappear. When he went to work cleaning up the beaches of the country (amongst the piles of garbage he found 100,000 flip-flops and a kilo of cocaine), he became aware that the ocean was also threatened by the insatiable greed of human beings. Along the mouths of the rivers by the Atlantic coast there were fleets of Chinese trawlers sweeping up shoals of fish as “thick as bouillabaisse”.1
The realization led to Fay’s commencing work initiatives geared to protect Gabon’s maritime zones.
“I understand that you are a special advisor to the President of Gabon and that you have a passion for combating illegal fishing in Gabonese waters,” Hammarstedt continues in his email.
“I would very much like to keep you updated on our movements so that authorities in Gabon can have as much advance notice as possible of any attempt to transship or offload. Thank you for your tireless work in protecting natural areas. I look forward to hearing from you.”
The next day Hammarstedt receives a short reply.
“No problem. Keep me informed and I will get proper authorities in action if necessary. I would be surprised if she put into Gabon, more likely her home in Nigeria, but if she does, we will be ready. Mike.”
Fay alerts the fisheries authorities and the admiral who has command over Gabon’s tiny fleet of small, but robust, French-built patrol boats. He also alerts the fisheries director of the tiny island nation of São Tomé and Príncipe and has his acquaintances in Gabon’s Navy warn colleagues in Equatorial Guinea and Cameroon. If the Thunder attempts to put into port in Gabon, the ship will be denied entry. Another option is for the Gabonese authorities to lure the vessel in and detain the crew long enough to allow Interpol time to arrive in the country.2
At the very least there is one country in the region that has an unpleasant welcome prepared for the Thunder, Hammarstedt thinks before curling up in his berth in the great cabin.
30
THE MAN IN THE ARENA
THE SOUTH ATLANTIC OCEAN, MARCH 2015
Every morning at 7:30 Hammarstedt walks up to the whiteboard at the end of the lounge, wipes it clean and writes a new number. “110 days at sea.”
The monotony of the chase has converted his existence into a series of numbers: the number of nautical miles to the closest port, the speed of the ships, the amount of fuel in the tanks, the height of the Thunder’s freeboard, the barometer’s pressure reading and the height of the waves.
The inactivity takes its toll on the crew. In the morning meetings they sit silently and listen, staring down at the flooring or at one another. Hammarstedt has no clear answer to the question of how long the chase will continue; he has no more theories about what is happening on board the Thunder.
The two ships maintain a steady speed of between 6 and 7 knots and cover 200 nautical miles per day. Now it is only the remaining amount of food and fuel that will determine how long the chase can continue. Cataldo’s fixed and goal-oriented course makes Hammarstedt believe that he has a plan. He rules out that it involves Great Britain or crossing the Atlantic. The Canary Islands or one of the many ports along the west coast of Africa are possibilities discussed on both the Bob Barker and in Interpol’s restricted corridors. If so, the chase will be over in the course of three weeks.
“For them it’s about finding a port where they will be least likely to go to prison,” Hammarstedt tells the crew at the daily morning meeting in the lounge.
Although he is located a few days’ sailing east of Angola’s capital Luanda, Hammarstedt has a road map of the USA lying on the bridge. When the chase is over, he is going on a road trip in the USA. He will walk through national parks, see bison, climb glaciers, stomp his feet against solid ground. He wants to see trees and forests – and they are to be the thickest and tallest trees in the world.
On the table in the great cabin he measures the distance from Sequoia to Yellowstone, finds the names of motels where he will spend the night, restaurants he will visit, and fantasizes about a world completely different from the empty horizon’s imperceptible changes from blue to grey to the black standstill of the night.
Then the Thunder stops. Peter Hammarstedt runs quickly up to the bridge and the moment he enters, he asks Adam Meyerson what is happening.
“Great drift part four,” Meyerson answers.
“Maybe they have a mechanical issue, but I guess it could be the beginning of another long drift. They’re obviously in a very desperate situation,” he continues.
Peter Hammarstedt lifts the binoculars. The Thunder is now lying to almost motionless on the quiet ocean, drifting slowly upon the current.
Without a word Hammarstedt leaves the bridge, takes a few long steps down the stairs and into the great cabin directly under the wheelhouse. He closes the door behind him, and sits down in the chair by the desk. There he slumps and buries his head in his hands.
They have no plan, he thinks. Or is it yet another attempt to test our stamina? Is it the final attempt to break us? he asks himself.
He tries to collect his thoughts, and is glad nobody can see him, especially not Captain Cataldo. He glances up at the door and the quote he hung up when he signed on as captain. It is the speech Theodore Roosevelt held at the Sorbonne in the spring of 1910, a speech Hammarstedt
