A group of vessels appeared that was a clear target for Interpol: the fleet of trawlers and longline fishing vessels that were plundering the toothfish stock of the Antarctic. It was probably the most profitable and long-term illegal fisheries offensive in history. It took place in a delimited geographic area, it targeted a single species and it had been documented by hundreds of reports, books, newspaper articles and legal documents. Each ship could earn up to 5 million dollars annually. They posed a threat to the fish stocks and destroyed the economic means of sustenance for ordinary fishermen.4
In contrast to cocaine smugglers, who actively hid their illegal wares, the pirate trawlers were easy to follow, they were like “elephants in the snow”, Alistair McDonnell thought.5 Now they could test whether Interpol’s databases and communication systems would be effective in the fight against the fishing pirates.
Although the Thunder and the Viking have left countless clues behind them on land, the vessels are difficult to stop. The crimes are committed in international waters, the profits hidden in tax havens, and it is virtually impossible to induce those who know the operation from the inside to talk. The police’s most important “intelligence agents” are usually neighbours who sound the alarm, but at sea most consider themselves to be members of a professional brotherhood and they don’t snitch on one another. The pirate ships also operate in an area equivalent to 70 per cent of the earth’s surface.
In Operation Spillway McDonnell and his colleagues have carved out a strategy they hope will work. The ships are to be harassed and inspected at every single port of call. Charges are to be brought up and prosecution pursued for every tiny law infraction. He has named the strategy “Death by a thousand cuts”.
Now Sea Shepherd has its eyes and cameras glued to the Thunder around the clock, but Interpol’s notices on Paul Watson make any dialogue difficult. Sea Shepherd is also notorious for its unpredictability and lack of patience with the authorities. When McDonnell receives an email from Sea Shepherd’s Asia Director about finding the Thunder, he nonetheless spots an opportunity.
“Thank you for the information, we will monitor the position updates and material you release identifying the vessel,” McDonnell answers curtly.
He hopes Sea Shepherd will take the hint: Keep us updated at all times. Even if we don’t respond, we are paying attention.
7
THE ICE
THE SOUTHERN OCEAN, DECEMBER 2014
Everything is in motion.
The albatrosses, suspended effortlessly on the air current with their three-metre-long wings, now cross upward against the wind. Then they set out in a broad-reaching, leeward arc, plummet towards the surface of the ocean and turn back into the wind to ascend once more.
In the south, out of the Prydz Bay, an eternal, invisibly flowing stream transports ice from inner Antarctica to the coast.1 The winds rush out from the hinterland. Shaped by dense, cold air from the Antarctic continent, they sweep down the uncompromising polar plateau and inward across the coast.
The wind is blowing from the southwest at four knots; the ocean is flowing silently and calmly around the two ships and the waves swelling to heights of barely more than a metre. The Thunder is headed west. Does the pirate already know who his pursuer is? Is that why the mate on the Thunder is sailing in the opposite direction of the Bob Barker’s home port in Tasmania? Perhaps he wants to test how far Hammarstedt is willing to pursue them?
Suddenly, the Thunder changes course, heading in the direction of a belt of pack ice. The mate reduces the speed to two knots, heads northwest and around a square ice sheet. The two ships sail along the northern edge of the drift ice for a long while. When they enter a wide gulf with ice on all sides, the Thunder stops. It is as if for a moment the ship becomes aware of the danger that lies ahead.
“There’s a lot of pack ice. Let’s see what these guys do. They may turn, they might go in,” first mate Adam Meyerson says. “It is a waste of their time and ours. They may be testing us. We are faster than they are, so they cannot outrun us. Trying to wear down our jaw. I’m sure they are desperate. They have no other options,” he says.
“They are just going to see what we will do, I think. Let’s get in right on their stern,” Peter Hammarstedt says.
During the brief lull, the Bob Barker’s photographer runs up on deck to take photographs of the draft marks, which indicate how high the Thunder is sitting in the water. This can give them an idea of the amount of supplies and fuel on board.
Then the Thunder doggedly directs its bow towards the pack ice, at first carefully and tentatively, as if the shipmaster wants to test how contact with the ice will affect the ship. Suddenly, it speeds up and the propeller churns open an ice-free channel which allows the Bob Barker to follow without having to do any icebreaking of its own. Hammarstedt cannot follow more than 700–800 metres behind the Thunder, or the channel that has been cleared ahead of them will close up.
“Who knows what the game is?” asks Simon Ager, the Sea Shepherd’s Canadian photographer.
“They may be testing if we will go into the ice. They may try
