Excerpts
Voices
From: Greenpeace: How a Group of Ecologists, Journalists and Visionaries Changed the World, Chapter Seven, “Mendocino Ridge.”
We sat quietly and rocked in the mounting breeze. The skipper came into the galley and surveyed his crew. “Storm,” he said. “Will. George.” He turned and walked out onto the deck trailed by Will Jackson and Korotva. I followed. Paul Watson and Carlie Trueman stood ready on the deck. We lowered the stabilizer poles as the wind whipped up spray. We were 100 miles from the coast, over the top of Mendocino Ridge, heading northwest. The storm intensified to a full gale, blowing dense foam across the deck and limiting visibility. Walrus climbed high in the rigging. We heard a loud crack, like a gun going off, as one of the stabilizer poles snapped in a squall and flopped over in the waves.
The broken piece now flew wildly, still attached, slamming into the hull. Korotva climbed out on the pole in the shrieking wind, grabbed a line to the broken piece, and crawled back on deck so we could retrieve it. His daring act had the effect of snapping us out of our gloom. With the pole safely on deck, Walrus brought out the last rum that he had stashed in the galley, and we toasted The George and his bravery. Will Jackson, inspired by The George, swung out over the raging sea from a line attached to the mast. Bob Hunter took a turn swinging out over the water, then Watson. George, Will, and Pat Moore broke into an a cappella rendition of the Whale Anthem. The mood shifted. The game was not lost. We had a radio read on the whalers and the Phyllis Cormack plunged on, though rocking mercilessly without the stabilizer. Walrus clung like a warrior to the mast. Hunter tried the radio again, but when it didn’t work, he shrugged and ambled back to the wheelhouse.
As the sun went down, Russian voices indicated they were now to the northeast, behind us. Cormack and Hewitt huddled over the RDF. Hewitt switched it off and back on. The needle leapt back to the northeast and stayed there. “Northeast,” said Hewitt.
Carlie Trueman stood at the wheel as the skipper entered. “Swing ‘er round, there, Carlie,”
“Huh?”
“East-northeast,” said Cormack.
“What’s up, John?” Carlie asked.
“They’re behind us.”
I took my usual wheel duties at 04:00 and watched the sun come up at 04:40, June 27, the last day of the IWC meeting in London. The gale had blown through, the sky grew clear, and the ocean quieted. We got a strong RDF signal at about 10:00, still east-northeast, then the Russian broadcasts stopped.