Eco Warrior (19 page)

At ten minutes exactly, I started reeling him in. He waved frantically for me to stop, but I wouldn’t. I knew what the danger was. He was so passionate and stubborn he didn’t care about the dangers of hypothermia, and was willing to risk everything just to swim with the whales. It took almost five minutes to pull him to the boat and help him out of the water. He had more freedom of movement now that the suit was soaked through, but was exhausted, more exhausted than I had realized when he went in the water. He had used up so much energy just getting into the suit.

It was hard work getting him up the portal and down the ladder. But he was very happy. He kept saying, “What a thrill!” but was almost delirious with cold and fatigue. Once we were inside, it wasn’t necessary to cut the wet suit. It peeled off him like a banana skin. But once he was free, I discovered that he was shivering badly. His lips were trembling.

“I’ll make you some hot chocolate,” I said. “That’ll warm you up.”

“Thank you, Alfred. I mean, thank you, Captain. That would be amazing.”

I helped him to his sleeping bag, then put the last of our fresh milk into a pot and started to heat it up. There was nothing as wonderful as hot chocolate in cold seas. But when I brought the cup over to him, I found him fast asleep already, and he would sleep for the next twelve hours straight. So I drank the hot chocolate myself.

I was tired, too, but had to stay awake to follow the tanker. Having stopped once, she might again, and I couldn’t risk striking her hull at full speed. So, I spent a few hours riding the bike, playing with Hollie, and reading. I started the book by Thoreau again, but this time was able to pay attention, and discovered that what Margaret had said was true: Thoreau and I thought a lot alike. I mean, I agreed with everything he wrote. I couldn’t believe he was writing from a hundred and fifty years ago, because it seemed like what he was saying was true today, even though it sounded old-fashioned.
Walden
quickly became my favourite book

Twelve hours after Merwin went to sleep, I brought him a cup of coffee and woke him up. He was groggy and dizzy but it was time to trade off again. He would be on watch, and I would get some sleep. He was beginning to see how being at sea, even in the comfort of a submarine, could be very tiring. In truth, I found it easier to be alone. I was getting only half as much sleep as I was used to. But in spite of that, and in spite of being cramped, I realized I was starting to like having him around. I was getting used to him, and learning something important. I couldn’t put it into words yet exactly, but I knew it had something to do with saving the planet.

Chapter Twenty-five

ONCE AGAIN, I WAS woken by a tug at my shoulder.

“Sorry to wake you, Captain, but there are a couple of lights flashing on the radar screen that weren’t there before, and they look like they’re coming this way.”

Ever since he swam with the whales, Merwin had taken to calling me captain all the time, and he wasn’t joking.

“Thanks for waking me.” I climbed out of bed, and shuffled over to the screen. The tanker had crossed the invisible 60th latitude line, and there were two vessels coming to meet her. They were still eight miles away. They must have been whalers planning to rendezvous, to siphon oil from her belly. I wished we had come up with some way to stop that from happening, but we hadn’t. Merwin was full of ideas, but none of them was the least bit realistic. I wanted to stop the transfer of oil just as much as he did, but I didn’t think he believed me, because I had shot down all of his ideas.

“We could ram her propeller, and break it.”

“Way too dangerous. Besides, we don’t want to disable her, or prevent her from sailing out of the area.”

“We could sail ahead of her, turn around and play chicken with her at night. With lights and flares we could make her think we are much bigger than we are, and frighten her crew into turning around.”

“She couldn’t turn around quickly, even if she wanted to. We might make her alter her course a little, but she’d figure out it was us soon enough. She knows we’ve been following her.”

“We could ram her sideways, punch a small hole in her that would force her to sail back to Australia as soon as possible.”

I had to wonder what Merwin thought we were sailing. If we rammed the tanker at full speed, we would simply bounce off, and probably not even leave a dent. And if we
were
able to put a hole in her hull, she’d leak oil all the way back to Australia. I could tell how passionate Merwin felt about the situation by how crazy his ideas were.

“We have to try
something
, Captain. We didn’t come all this way to do nothing.”

“I know, but we didn’t come down here to commit suicide either, or to cause an environmental disaster. Let’s wait until the whalers attempt to pump oil from her; maybe we can do something then.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Merwin shook his head. “It’ll be too late. We have to do something now.”

But there was nothing to do except wait. When the two vessels were five miles away, the tanker cut her engines. She had to; they were coming directly towards her, without veering, which left her little choice. They would have picked us up on radar also, so there was no point in trying to hide, but I decided to submerge to periscope depth anyway, and swing in a wide arc around the tanker so that they wouldn’t know exactly where we were. Taking turns at the periscope, Merwin and I stared without blinking as the two vessels sailed into sight, and boy, did we get a surprise!

The first ship wore a large skull and crossbones right across her bridge, and was painted black and blue. It was the
Steve Irwin
! The second ship was called the
Bob Barker
, and was a sister ship. These were not whalers; these were the ships of the Sea Shepherd Society. They had come to prevent the tanker from entering the Southern Ocean. And they were not fooling around. Their sailing manoeuvres left the tanker no option but to shut her engines and drift to a stop.

“Yay!” Merwin and I both shouted.

The
Steve Irwin
and
Bob Barker
parked themselves in front of the tanker’s bow like two dogs cornering a bear. Then, they must have had a radio exchange, because the tanker fired up her engines, the ships gave way, and the tanker started moving again, in a very wide arc—it took her more than a mile to make it—and headed back the way she had come, with the ships on either side of her. They were escorting her back above the 60th parallel, and sending her back to Australia. We followed. Merwin was ecstatic.

“Do you see, Captain? Do you see why I admire Captain Watson and his society so much? Other groups work for change; the Sea Shepherd Society
makes
it happen.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Watching the ships force the tanker around astonished me. I knew we were witnessing something remarkable. The Sea Shepherd Society was not part of any navy, coast guard, or police force; they were just a group of courageous people standing up for the whales, telling the tanker to take her bloody oil and get the heck out of here; these are protected waters. Merwin and I both had tears of joy in our eyes as the tanker turned on her tail, and headed north.

But she didn’t go far. And our excitement was soon mixed with suspicion. The Shepherd ships accompanied the tanker across the 60th parallel, turned around, and sailed back south. They had whalers to chase. As the
Steve Irwin
passed about quarter of a mile away, Merwin and I waved and cheered from the hull, and she returned our greeting with a few blasts of her horn. We wanted to let them know we were here, and that we would follow the tanker all the way back to Australia.

But that was not what happened. Once the Shepherd ships had disappeared from radar, the tanker slowed to a mere five knots. So we did, too. This was very suspicious. What was she doing? Against the current it felt as though we weren’t even moving. A few hours later, she made a very gradual turn portside. That was sneaky. Now, she was heading very slightly south of west. Why? There was nowhere to go but Africa, which was unbelievably far away. What was she up to?

We found out about ten hours later, when two lights appeared on the radar screen once again, coming from the Southern Ocean. Had the Shepherd ships discovered that the tanker had stayed in the area, and were coming back to chase her away?

I watched the screen closely, and stared through the periscope. But we were not in range, and I couldn’t see anything, so I climbed the portal with the binoculars. It was nighttime now, though not actually dark, just a lingering twilight. Merwin was sleeping. At five miles, I spotted the lights of one of the ships, and then the other. As before, the tanker cut her engines and drifted to a stop. I closed our distance to a quarter of a mile, went back inside, shut off the engine, and watched through the periscope. As darkness fell, I couldn’t see the approaching ships, only their lights. From two miles away, they appeared to be the same size as the Shepherd ships. But at half a mile, even in the dark, I could tell that they were whalers. Thirsty for oil, they had come north of the 60th parallel to refuel.

I woke Merwin. He was very groggy. “What is it, Captain?”

“The whalers have come. They’re going to refuel. I don’t know if there’s anything we can do, but I thought you’d like to know.”

“I sure would. Thanks for waking me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Once again, we took turns at the periscope. This time, Merwin tried harder to come up with realistic ideas. He knew I wouldn’t agree to anything that wasn’t, even though I wanted to stop the whalers from refuelling just as much as he did. If they couldn’t refuel, they’d have to sail back to Japan, which would mean that more whales would live. We had to try something.

“We simply have to sail between them,” Merwin said. “That’s what Captain Watson does. I’ve seen it on TV.”

I shook my head. The tanker, although it was a small one, was at least five hundred feet long. Each of the whalers was about half that size, which meant that they were still ten times bigger than we were. If we sailed between them, we’d get crushed. But that didn’t seem to concern Merwin at all.

“They’ll back off if we do it. They’ll get frustrated, and back away.”

“In the dark, they won’t even see us!” The whalers had chosen to refuel in the dark, probably in the hope that no one would see them from the air.

“We’ll use the floodlights. They’ll see us then. And we can shoot flares.”

I hesitated. I turned and looked at Hollie and Seaweed. I didn’t want to put their lives at risk.

“Captain, when they refuel, they’re going to kill whales. You know that. We have to do something.”

I felt such a dilemma. I didn’t want to risk the lives of my crew, yet wanted to save the whales. There was no easy solution. “Yah, okay. We’ll give it a try. But the moment it feels too dangerous to me, we’re out of here.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. I stand at the ready.”

So we motored around the stern of the tanker, and waited until one of the whalers came alongside her. I stayed inside at the controls, and stole quick glances through the periscope. Merwin climbed the portal with the flare gun, and put the harness on. He got ready, on my command, to blast them with light and flares.

The channel of water between the two ships was very narrow, and the movement of the sea uneven. The ships didn’t want to bang into each other, but had to be close enough to transfer oil. I watched as they started to pass heavy hoses from one deck to the other, and then I gave the command.

“Lights!”

Through the periscope I saw our floodlights beam across the hulls of the two ships, but they weren’t high enough, and wouldn’t interfere with anything. All they accomplished was to let them know we were suicidal enough to put ourselves in between two vessels that could easily squash us. Our hull sat at sea level. From their perspective, it must have seemed as though we weren’t even here. In fact, the threat we brought to them was not a threat to either ship; it was the threat of causing the deaths of a couple of crazy environmentalists, which would look bad on TV. Merwin explained that both the Japanese and Shepherd ships carried film cameras, and that their skirmishes in the past had often found their way onto TV. As desperate as our action seemed, it had to be taken seriously in a time when environmental issues were always in the news. The Japanese whalers, after all, were catching whales under the pretence of using them for research, which was a lie. If they were seen to act so aggressively as to damage another vessel, and kill people, they surely wouldn’t look very scientific. This battle wasn’t taking place only at sea, but on television, too.

“What do you call a person who dies for a cause?” I yelled up to Merwin. I knew that there was a word for it but couldn’t remember it.

He yelled back. “A martyr.”

“Right. Be careful. We’re not here to become martyrs.”

My heart was racing as we motored about a third of the way between the two ships. Then, I heard the bang of the flare gun. I told Merwin to shoot straight up, and try not to hit anyone. If they wouldn’t notice our floodlights, they certainly would see our flares.