By Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise
So there I stood, nostrils twitching trying to work out what the awful smell was.
After a quick sheepish look at the underside of my boots I looked around and there behind me was the Nisshin Maru flanked by one of her hunter ships. The cause of the smell was clarified in a second.
It was the smell of death, a mixture of butchers shop and decaying flesh and it was coming from the Nisshin Maru.
As I stood and stared, the entrails of what would have been, just a short while ago, part of one of the most beautiful creatures on earth floated by. A wave of conflicting emotions overtook me.
The story of Greenpeace’s current effort in the frigid southern oceans is a modern saga that, to one crew member, calls to mind a poem by Emily Dickinson:
Whole Gulfs — of Red, and Fleets — of Red —
And Crews — of solid Blood —
Did place upon the West — Tonight —
As ’twere specific Ground —
And They — appointed Creatures —
In Authorized Arrays —
Due — promptly — as a Drama —
That bows — and disappears —