THE PACIFIC OCEAN IS THE LARGEST AND DEEPEST OF THE world’s oceans. It covers a staggering 64 million square miles, approximately one-third of the planet’s total surface area, and extends from the Arctic Ocean in the north to the Southern Ocean in the south. The Pacific accounts for 46 percent of the earth’s water surface and covers an area larger than all of the earth’s land.1
Due to the Pacific’s sheer size, few island governments have the resources to keep a close watch on illegal fishing and what fishermen are doing with sharks. Without the world’s eyes watching, fishing fleets can ravage the oceans and various fish species.
Many nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), such as Oceana and Ocean Conservancy, are addressing ocean conservation, but Greenpeace is one of the few with an active presence on the Pacific Ocean. Their ship, the Rainbow Warrior, patrols the Pacific and seeks to protect the ocean from abuses. Today Greenpeace is one of the world’s most influential NGOs, with offices in more than forty countries around the world. Even though the organization is not old, Greenpeace, which was founded in 1971, has a storied history. In the late 1960s, a group of activists came up with a radical idea. One of them, Jim Bohlen, a US Navy veteran, learned of a form of passive resistance called “bearing witness.” The concept is straightforward: the best way to confront objectionable behavior is to establish a presence where the behavior is taking place. In other words, protesters literally bear witness, a nonviolent and peaceful approach consistent with all great leaders from Martin Luther King Jr. to Mahatma Gandhi to Nelson Mandela. The early founders of Greenpeace knew instinctively that violence is ineffective in the end. In The Monkey Wrench Gang, the famous novel by Edward Abbey, the protagonists use sabotage to protest environmentally damaging activities in the southwestern United States. Greenpeace chose to go in another direction, following the peaceful philosophy of men like King, who said, “Nonviolence is a powerful and just weapon, which cuts without wounding and ennobles the man who wields it. It is a sword that heals.”
In 1971, the US government planned to detonate an underground nuclear weapon in the tectonically unstable island of Amchitka, Alaska, which lies at the end of the Aleutian island chain that stretches from the Alaskan mainland toward Russia. Activists, who were concerned about the test’s likely effect, wanted to stop it.
Jim Bohlen’s wife, Marie, came up with the idea to sail to Amchitka, and that autumn, a ship filled with a ragtag group of activists took to the frigid waters and sailed toward the island. The US Coast Guard found out about the plan and sent the USCG Confidence to intercept them. Unbeknownst to senior officers, however, the Coast Guard crew sympathized with the demonstrators. The crew members composed a letter expressing their support for the activists’ cause and presented it to Jim when they boarded the Greenpeace ship and told the activists to turn back.
There was an internal debate among the activists. Some wanted to keep going, while others were worried about what the Coast Guard would do next. In the end, coupled with inclement weather, the letter convinced the crew to return to Canada. It seemed that the voyage had been a failure. However, once they arrived at port, they realized that their trip was anything but. News about their journey and the reported support from the crew of the Confidence had generated enormous sympathy for their protest. Not only did they raise awareness, but world opinion had swung in their favor. It was a public relations coup. The public outcry persuaded the US government to discontinue the test planned at Amchitka. Greenpeace had triumphed in the end.
Since then, Greenpeace’s activists have continued to travel the world on their three ships to protect the oceans. One of those ships, the Esperanza documented unsustainable and illegal tuna fishing in the Pacific Ocean in 2011. During the campaign, which covered more than 14,000 miles, the Esperanza crew encountered sixty-three fishing vessels and took appropriate actions, including boarding and inspecting the vessels. Greenpeace’s two other ships—Arctic Sunrise and the Rainbow Warrior—joined the Esperanza in the organization’s campaign to save the seas, the latter of the two focusing on tuna fishing and shark poaching in the Pacific.
I asked Greenpeace officials if I could interview the crew of the Rainbow Warrior to learn what is happening to sharks on the high seas. I was told that there might be a window to get some time with the officers when the boat was docked in Busan, South Korea. I leaped at the chance. Before Greenpeace officials could change their minds, I was on a flight westbound. A brief stopover in Taiwan gave me enough time to visit the country’s busiest seaport in the north.
Taiwan’s fishing fleet, one of the largest in the world, ranks third internationally as catchers of tuna, hauling in 325,000 metric tons of the fish per year. At the port city in Donggang in the west central section of the country, I saw a huge number of fishing boats at anchor. These vessels were a massive 200 feet in length with black-painted hulls. Each vessel had cranes on deck that could be mistaken for gun turrets. I counted twenty of these fishing battleships in a single row. The port reminded me of the massive Port Newark–Elizabeth Marine Terminal, except instead of container ships, the port was filled with fishing vessels.
In another area of the port, I saw a totally different kind of ship, not the huge iron-plated battleship types. These ships were smaller, anywhere from 70 to 80 feet long, with only a long wheelhouse at the top where the captain pilots the boat. The wooden decks were old and seemed dingy. Some boats offset the dull planks with painted stripes along the wheelhouse. All the railings were wood. The vessels had a saddleback appearance like an old horse, with a sagging middle and upturned ends.
Taiwanese fishing vessels have been accused of illegal and ecologically harmful fishing practices.2 Allegations include fishing in the territorial waters of other countries without authorization, overfishing, and shark-finning—charges that cast a negative light on the country, which prides itself as being a responsible global citizen. Leery of drawing attention to myself, I tried to walk discreetly among the vessels as I peered into the ships. Could these small boats hold enough sharks and tuna to make a profitable trip, or was I missing important pieces of information?
And another question: Where was the crew? The Taiwanese fishing industry employs 317,000, a number that doesn’t account for the tens of thousands of migrants working in the industry.3 Some researchers estimate that as many as 160,000 migrants currently man Taiwanese fishing vessels.4 What sorts of conditions exist on these boats? I noted that there should be more men working around the docks, but the boats were mostly deserted. Why? Unfortunately, I would have to wait to answer these questions.
My flight touched down in Seoul, a modern city that looks as if it would fit in just as comfortably along the East Coast of the United States. Giant skyscrapers pierce the skyline, and the wide boulevards are jammed with traffic.
The Rainbow Warrior was docked in Busan, in the southeastern area of Korea. After what seemed like a never-ending train trip, I stood on a wharf and stared at the Rainbow Warrior. Greenpeace named the ship after a North American Cree Indian prophecy: “When the world is sick and dying, the people will rise up like Warriors of the Rainbow.” Three ships christened the Rainbow Warrior have borne witness around the world since the late 1970s. The ship I was looking at was purpose-built and completed in 2011. I was surprised at the size of the current Rainbow Warrior. It is 200 feet long and has two masts, both of which extend a remarkable 180 feet above the deck. In addition, the ship has thirty berths, more than enough to accommodate the crew needed to wage effective campaigns. The hull is painted green and has a rainbow on the bow, the ship’s world-famous insignia. Even though the ship sails primarily under wind power, to reduce its reliance on fuel, the new Rainbow Warrior is as fast as many industrial vessels; its action boats can be deployed in minutes. A helicopter landing pad similarly allows for immediate engagement, affording the captain and crew a vital eye-in-the-sky advantage when tracking illegal fishing operations. A Zodiac boat rests on a portside crane, ready to launch.
As I boarded the ship, I was inspired by all the great work it has done and the dangers its crew has stared down. It felt like an honor to stand on the vessel and consider the brave crew and their campaigns. The first Rainbow Warrior withstood Russian grenade launchers when Greenpeace’s Zodiacs were protecting whales. Then the vessel was attacked on July 10, 1985, in Auckland, New Zealand, when bearing witness against and protesting French nuclear testing in the Moruroa atoll. At close to midnight on that night, Captain Pete Willcox and most of his crew were sleeping, while a few others, including the photographer Fernando Pereira, chatted in the mess, drinking the ship’s last two bottles of beer. Suddenly, the lights went out, followed by a sharp crack of breaking glass and the sudden roar of water.
Those already on deck scrambled up the ladder or leaped to safety on the wharf. Within minutes, nearly everyone was off the ship and watching the steel masts tilting toward them. “I stood there looking at the boat with all of these bubbles coming out of it,” Captain Willcox later recalled. That’s when a crew member told him that Pereira was still on the boat. The Portuguese-born photographer had joined the crew of the Rainbow Warrior to document the French nuclear testing and share his photographs with the world. He was caught in a rush of water that night and drowned. He had just celebrated his thirty-fifth birthday.
The Rainbow Warrior wasn’t hit by a boat, of course. In an attempt to “neutralize” the ship ahead of its planned protest, French secret service agents in diving gear had attached two packets of plastic-wrapped explosives to the ship, one by the propeller and one to the outer wall of the engine room. Initially, the French government denied all knowledge of the operation, but the evidence of its involvement was overwhelming. Eventually, the prime minister appeared on television, chastened, and told a shocked public: “Agents of the DGSE [French secret service] sank this boat. They acted on orders.”
Only two agents ever stood trial. Dominique Prieur and Alain Mafart, who had posed as Swiss tourists, pleaded guilty to charges of manslaughter, earning sentences of ten and seven years. A settlement negotiated by the United Nations allowed their transfer to the Hao atoll, a French military base in French Polynesia, where they served less than two years.
Thirty years later, a French secret service diver named Jean-Luc Kister apologized for attaching a mine to the ship’s hull. “I have the weight of an innocent man’s death on my conscience,” he said. “It’s time, I believe, for me to express my profound regret and my apologies.”
While it is unusual for crew members to be killed, Greenpeace work can be dangerous. Many fishing boats routinely ignore international law, fish without a license, and don’t want to be caught. In many incidents, the fishing vessels hurl epithets and, more menacingly, objects at the boat and crew. Warning gunshots are often fired. Once, an individual from a fishing vessel’s crew hurled objects at the Greenpeace helicopter, smashing its windows. In 2016, Greenpeace painted STOP ILLEGAL FISHING across the hull of a Taiwanese fishing vessel. Furious, the captain sent his men out in small crafts to attack. They rammed the Greenpeace Zodiacs, and crew members attacked the activists with metal rods. One activist was gouged with a rusty drum hook.
When a ship is in national waters, local authorities can protect their jurisdictions by boarding the ship to make sure the vessel has the appropriate authorizations and to check its logbooks. Unfortunately, many coastal states are too poor to provide the necessary ships to patrol and inspect every fishing vessel, but inspectors can take advantage of the Rainbow Warrior to monitor vessels in their waters.
I was given a grand tour of the Rainbow Warrior. Below deck, I met the cook in the ship’s galley, where plenty of refrigerators held enough food to maintain the crew over long voyages around the world. The cook was busy preparing a lunch of tossed salad for the crew, many of whom were chatting amicably in the mess hall. Behind the mess hall was a library with a wide selection of books and periodicals. The cabins looked comfortable. Each one was furnished with a small bedside reading desk, which made the 12-by-18-foot room feel like a college dormitory.
Finally, I met Hattie, one of the first female captains of the Rainbow Warrior. Like Madonna and Beyoncé, Hattie goes by a single name. Sailing is in her veins; she started in the Netherlands when she was fourteen years old. She joined Greenpeace in 1992, after sailing charters for tourists. “I see Greenpeace as the voice of people, the voice of the environment,” she told me in a heavy Dutch accent. “Bearing witness is one of the most important things we do. We need to show the world footage, pictures, of illegal fishing because we need to do something about it.” To illustrate her point, she took out her computer and pulled up photographs of mutilated sharks and other apex predators, like swordfish and tuna.
Tuna migrate hundreds of thousands of miles over their lifetimes. More often than not, tuna vessels fish in international waters, which makes regulation difficult.
The current mission of the Rainbow Warrior is to raise awareness about the tuna-fishing industry and stop illegal and unreported fishing. Tuna, like sharks, have a large number of subspecies and can range in size from just a few pounds up to more than 1,500 pounds. An adult bluefin can weigh more than a polar bear. Tuna have sleek, torpedo-shaped bodies and, like sharks, are apex predators. The ancient Greeks admired the fish, which were a visible part of the Mediterranean culture for much of recorded history. Because sharks hunt tuna, wherever tuna congregate sharks are sure to be nearby.
Today, coastal countries around the world rely on tuna for food and jobs. The tuna fishery is the largest fishery in the world and is worth $40 billion.5 The canned tuna market accounts for $30 billion. While the price per metric ton is modest, the total tonnage is enormous. Currently, almost 80 percent of all landed tuna goes to canneries for processing. The other $10 billion is generated from various segments. Tuna-based cat and fish meal, for instance, is worth approximately $1 billion. The Pacific Ocean is home to nearly three-quarters of all tuna landings.
Karli Thomas works on the Rainbow Warrior as the tuna campaign manager. A native of New Zealand, she has worked for Greenpeace for ten years. She has long, wavy brown hair, and her blue eyes show a keen intelligence. “My goal is to expose what’s going on in the world’s largest tuna fishery,” she told me. “The central and western Pacific Ocean is where 70 percent of the world’s tuna comes from.” Americans eat on average 2.1 pounds of tuna per person per year,6 enough to make tuna the country’s second most popular seafood of choice, behind shrimp. “Most people have no idea about how [tuna is] caught, what’s the status of the tuna stocks, and the plights of the people that are catching their tuna. And that’s what we’re trying to expose with our ship.”
China, Indonesia, Thailand, Korea, and other Asian countries have huge fleets, ranging from small artisanal-scale vessels operating in coastal waters to medium- or large-scale domestic vessels operating within national waters and on the high seas. In addition, many countries possess large-scale distant-water foreign vessels capable of operating far from their home base in any ocean. More than forty countries currently host tuna-processing industries.7
Several fishing methods are used to catch tuna: pole and line, purse seining, and long-lining. Just as its name suggests, pole and line involves one fisherman catching one fish on one pole at a time. While environmentally friendly, companies seek out more efficient methods to catch tuna. Industrial purse seine gear, which captures the majority of the world’s tuna stock, encircles schools of tuna with large nets. The top of the net is mounted on a float line, while the bottom of the net is fashioned to a lead line, which usually consists of steel chains and rings known as “purse rings.” Purse seine nets can measure a mile long and run 200 yards deep, the length of two football fields.
Longline fishing accounts for the next largest catch of tuna and is a remarkably simple method of capture. The crew sets a single line from the stern of the boat. Attached to the line, at regular intervals of 10 feet, are shorter secondary lines. To this one line, fishermen attach thousands of baited hooks. “So, some of these vessels, the ship itself, can be relatively small but the lines that they set out are huge,” Thomas said. “And we’ve been onboard a vessel that had already set more than 100 miles of lines and was still setting.” She noted that the tuna longline industry is “an industry out of control. More than 3,500 vessels are authorized for tuna fishing in the Pacific, and yet it is well known there are many more that aren’t authorized.”
When one considers unauthorized vessels, there are probably more than 5,000 vessels hunting tuna this way. That’s up to half a million miles of longline stretching across the Pacific at any given time. “A big part of the issue of long-lining,” Thomas pointed out, “is the sheer number of vessels out there, the size of the lines that they’re setting, the number of hooks that are on there.”
Putting a baited hook in the water is an indiscriminate method of catching a target species. Anything can get caught on that line. While longline fishing allows boats to catch tuna as cheaply as possible, the unintended consequences are that the method sucks the life out of the ocean, like a vacuum cleaner. The method has global impacts on fish, seabirds, and marine turtles. Greenpeace estimates that 300,000 turtles and 160,000 seabirds are killed each year along with other discarded fish species too numerous to mention. Their remains are dumped overboard to sink to the depths. The impact on various endangered species, such as the leatherback turtle and the albatross, is inestimable.
Because the sharks follow the tuna, it is inevitable that sharks also fall prey to longline fishing catches. “The actual catch rate of sharks with longline fishing can be phenomenally high; more than 50 percent of the catch is actually sharks,” Thomas said. “Millions of sharks get caught every year in longline fisheries.” Greenpeace estimates that, for every ten tuna caught, five sharks are killed.
Thomas and I continued our conversation outside, standing along the gunwale of the Rainbow Warrior. A stiff breeze—a welcome respite from the powerful sun—carried the scent of the sea air. Thomas’s ponytail swayed gently. Her blue eyes, though, continued to blaze intensely as she related her firsthand experiences. With the blue sea as her backdrop, she described with fulsome details the savagery that befalls sharks on the high seas.
Blue sharks are the most common casualty since, as scavengers, they regularly go after the baited hooks. Hauled on board, a shark can inflict damage, so the fishermen immobilize it by stabbing it repeatedly in the head or gills. There is no mercy now. When the shark is no longer a threat, the fishermen start hacking it apart. Most shark species have as many as seven fins—two pectoral and dorsal fins plus an anal and pelvic fin on the underbelly, and of course the tail. None of the fins is allowed to go to waste. The easiest to remove are the pectoral, or side, fins, followed by the shark’s trademark dorsal fin. The fishermen saw back and forth, exposing the white connective tissue and raw red muscle beneath the shark’s skin. Once a fin comes off, a fisherman tosses it into the fin pile. Some fins are small, like the pelvic and anal fins, which are located toward the tail, but, regardless of size, they are all useful for making Chinese shark-fin soup. The last fin to come off is usually the caudal, or tail, fin. Because the caudal fin is the largest, severing it requires more time and effort. Inside the caudal fin, which powers the shark, is a rich supply of blood, which gushes out over the deck.
In many cases, even after this brutal removal of all its fins, the shark is still alive, barbarically reduced to a cylindrical stump.
When the fishermen are done chopping up the sharks, they stuff the fins into bags, which are then stored in freezers located deep in the ship’s hulls. The loot will bring in over $300 a pound. To dispose of the shark, the fishermen unceremoniously dump it overboard. Unable to swim, the shark sinks to the bottom of the ocean. “The amazing cruelty is that without its fins, it’s simply going to die a painful and slow death in the ocean,” Thomas said. “I am angry at how the sharks are made to suffer and face the pain and agony of such an end. Some of the shark species have had huge declines; the oceanic whitetip in the Pacific region has declined by more than 90 percent. So some of these species are in huge trouble.”
A first mate named Fernando Martin told me about a recent experience aboard a fishing vessel. He and three other members of Greenpeace, including a regional inspector, confronted the ship’s captain about his catch. “He kept two notebooks—one to show to authorities the right amount of catch he was allowed, and the other notebook was for the company and for himself,” said Martin, a handsome Spaniard who’s been with Greenpeace since 1995. The catch didn’t match the records. Fernando and the others decided to search the boat. “We were inspecting the holds. In the beginning, [the captain] just led us to inspect one of the holds. But then we found a new door. He didn’t want us to go in that door.”
Like in an Alfred Hitchcock movie in which the protagonist is about to do something the audience knows he shouldn’t, Fernando opened the door. “What we found inside were several bags full of shark fins.” Technically, fishermen are allowed to catch specific shark species. However, some countries require that entire shark bodies with fins attached be brought back to shore. For example, according to the 2010 Shark Conservation Act, all sharks caught in US waters must be brought to shore with their fins untouched. But keeping the bodies as well as the fins takes up valuable space. As I noted when I was in Taiwan, these ships have limited cargo space, so they cannot bring back the shark’s body. Fernando estimated that they discovered between 60 and 70 kilos (132 to 154 pounds) of shark fins. “We imagined that they just cut the fin and throw the body to the water while the shark is still alive.”
Thomas’s experiences were even more shocking. During one inspection, she checked all the freezer holds. In the last freezer hold she found three sacks with more than six hundred fins from various shark species. The inspectors spread the fins out on deck and took photos of them, but later they still couldn’t identify all of the specific species by the detached fins alone. Of the six hundred fins they photographed, they were able to identify only four species: blue sharks, makos, scalloped hammerheads, and silky sharks. Only blue sharks appeared in the captain’s logbook. Scalloped hammerheads are an endangered species, and because of their declining stock, they are protected against fishing of any kind around the world. To me, silky sharks are one of the most beautiful shark species. They look like bronzed torpedoes with their distinctive small dorsal fin and long pectoral fins, but they are rarely seen by the public because, as pelagic creatures, they live in the high seas. However, those long pectoral fins and their presence in the middle of the Pacific Ocean means that they are particularly vulnerable, so it is not surprising that their populations are declining. As a result, at the seventeenth Conference of the Parties to the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES), silky sharks were added to a list that allows the parts to be traded worldwide only if they are documented to be legally and sustainably sourced. While not a ban, the measure does make it more difficult to exploit the species.
When Thomas asked the captain about the missing shark carcasses, he admitted that he had transferred part of his catch. “That transfer was illegal,” she told me, “because he didn’t have the requisite paperwork to do that.” Thomas and the other inspectors reported the captain to regional authorities and to Taiwan’s Fisheries Agency, which sent a patrol boat to check the vessel. On board, they found only one hundred shark fins, far fewer than the six hundred fins Thomas had found.
On another search in international waters, Thomas came across a mixed fleet from Japan, Korea, and Taiwan. After examining a dozen or so vessels, she discovered that one wasn’t in possession of a fishing license for that region. She and the team boarded the ship to investigate. “The first thing that tipped us off that something was dodgy about this vessel was the fact that its logbook really didn’t line up for the amount of time that it had been at sea already, which was more than two months.”
How can a ship stay at sea for well over two months? The answer is transshipment, a devilishly clever way to stay at sea indefinitely. On the open sea, ships transfer their catch to other vessels, which then take the catch back to port and to market. Huge vessels called “reefers” are designed to take the catch of various fishing vessels into their gargantuan freezer holds. After unloading their catch and getting fuel and food, the fishing vessels can continue fishing and stay out at sea. This method sounds like an efficient way of doing business, but it also wraps a black cloak around fishing atrocities.
“It means that the fishing vessel stays out of reach of inspection,” Thomas said. “It means that the fishing crew don’t even come into port—they have no chance to get off the ship if they’re being exploited. And it means that legal catch can be mixed with illegal catch. And when [the catch] comes to shore, there’s no way of knowing which vessel it came from.”
One Greenpeace video taken of a longline vessel shows the horror these boats unleash on marine life. In the video, the vessel dropped a 150-mile longline from its rusted stern into the deep blue Pacific Ocean. The line disappeared into the whitewashed wake of the ship.
The next day, the vessel’s winches hauled in the line with a cornucopia of sea life attached. A huge leatherback turtle, a hook sticking out of its beak, was hauled in, along with dead gulls, albatrosses, and other seabirds that drowned after getting ensnared in the line. A striped marlin was the next fish to be hauled in. Its huge rapier bill was 5 feet long. Gasping for oxygen, the marlin slid into the discard pile like an old shoe. At last, the targeted prey, a yellowfin tuna, appeared on the line. Crew members gathered the tuna to throw it in the hold. A slender blue shark was next in line, still alive. The line could have been cut to let the shark go, but the men knew to gather it in for its valuable fins.
With a 3-foot-long blade, a crew member started stabbing the shark. Its tail flailing, the shark futilely tried to escape while its blood spattered over an already slippery deck. The fisherman sliced off the shark’s dorsal fin and then methodically chopped off its pectoral and tail fins, reducing the shark to a bloodied stub of its former self. The fisherman threw the mutilated shark back in the ocean, where it twitched from side to side as it sank to the seafloor.
EVERYWHERE THESE LONGLINE VESSELS TRAVEL, THEY BRING death. The damage to the high seas is devastating. As many as 100 million sharks a year are killed, along with tens of thousands of other animals. Every year, the total shark deaths are equal to one thousand times the American casualties in World War I. When Americans eat canned tuna, they do not realize the destruction of the ocean that their meal represents. Imagine if producing a single hamburger required butchers to kill not only the cow but all the other barnyard animals, too.
When I first saw the ships in Taiwan, my picture of the tuna-fishing industry was incomplete, but now I can piece together the giant jigsaw puzzle. The process is simple: The smaller fishing vessels go out and catch the tuna and the sharks. They fin the sharks, stash the fins in bags, and dump the bodies overboard to save room on the boat. Next, they cram the tuna into the ship’s hold. When the seams are bursting, they run to the reefer ship for a transshipment of the tuna and the shark fins. Now the vessel is ready to repeat the operation—again and again. For these boats and their crew, time stands still at sea.
When my experience on the Rainbow Warrior was over, I returned home to New York, where I took the time to contemplate everything that I learned. I couldn’t help but think about what my friend and fellow shark enthusiast Duncan Brake said at Shark-Con earlier in the year. Filming a recent excursion between the Falkland Islands and Antarctica, he experienced an odd occurrence. Five miles offshore, he and his shipmates spotted something bobbing in the water. At first, they thought it was a buoy. As they got closer, though, they realized it was a body, a human body. Brake and his shipmates brought the body onboard and transported it back to port in the Falklands. While they couldn’t identify the deceased, they knew he was Asian and had died of hypothermia. I wondered how an Asian man had come to drown in the South Atlantic, so far from home. The answer was perhaps related to the fishing industry. I know Asian fleets venture around the world for fish and sometimes enter the South Atlantic. Why are these fishermen so desperate to escape? When they see land, they risk swimming for it. They don’t worry about the distance or the water temperature. Unfortunately, they don’t realize that when the waters are frigid, it will take only twenty to thirty minutes to get hypothermia.
What is happening on these boats?