In Hot Pursuit

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Even at this early stage, Coastwatch officers, such as Steve "Loopy" Guerin, have a fair idea what they'll find. "From the standard of dress and the type of boat, we can usually tell where the crew are from." A typical FFV has several options for escape. Depending on its location, it can scoot back to the high seas or to the P.N.G. side of the fishing zone, or at least ditch its catch and equipment. In this case, the 7-m wooden fishing boat (designated a "Type 3") is too far inside Australian waters to flee. Instead, the Customs crew thinks, it will try to hide behind large rocks or in mosquito-infested mangroves. The boat's presence is unquestionably illegal. But the foreign fishers have few alternatives. Almost all of them are from Merauke, a village in Indonesia's Irian Jaya, about 145 nautical mi. (270 km) to the northwest. If they can avoid detection, the men could bring home a spectacular catch of shark fin (which can sell for $A200 a kg) and retire. The court houses and lock-ups on Thursday Island and in the Arnhem Land town of Nhulunbuy are stretched due to an official crackdown on FFVs. In 2003, 138 vessels were apprehended, mostly in northern waters; this year the tally has reached 69. Masters are fined in the first instance; jailed for repeat offenses. Boats are impounded (vessel owners pay a bond to retrieve them) or burned at sea if they're not seaworthy. "They've started coming further down into our fishing zone, even deep into the Gulf of Carpentaria," says Cummins. "In some ways, the Indonesians are fortunate that we apprehend them. If they washed up on a beach in the Strait, the Torres Strait Islanders would not be as understanding."

Botany Bay drops anchor a nautical mile from the Duncan Islands. Coastwatch has called the ACV with an update of the FFV's location. Because radar can't detect small boats, the binoculars are out on the bridge. The FFV is spotted! There's a rush of excitement and purpose as the four officers who make up a boarding party assemble on the aft deck and load up their kits: life jackets, 9-mm Glock semi-automatics, telescopic batons, capsicum spray, handcuffs, assorted tools, water supply, radio. The sailors climb aboard an outboard-powered tender which is lowered into the water. Coxswain Brad Walker thumps the boat into a slight swell on a 20-knot south-easterly, zooming toward the target under a blazing midday sun.

Ten minutes later, Cummins makes radio contact with the tender. The boarding party has been successful; there's been no struggle. A preliminary search has found evidence of shark fin, fresh blood, baited hooks, long lines, three floats and a compass. A report is prepared and faxed to the Australian Fisheries Management Authority; Cummins is recommending that the boat, Merauke-based Buna Perawan, be apprehended and towed back to Thursday Island. But first Cummins wants the eight fishermen to retrieve their buoys and lines; Coastwatch has located the gear 9 nautical mi. away. "The lines are an environmental hazard," says Geoff Weir, a member of the boarding party. Typically, sharks caught on these lines are stripped of their fins and thrown back into the water alive. "Not only is the harvesting method wasteful," says Weir, a marine biologist by training, "but taking out the predator at the top of the food chain in such numbers messes with the sea's biodiversity."

With daylight fading, the officers have toiled for an hour to make the fishing vessel inoperable, securing the wheel and rudder and applying a tow line. Orange life vests are dispatched to the Indonesians (most of whom decide to use them as comfortable seats). While the small, unstable vessel pitches and rolls, the officers search for further evidence in the bilge water and interview the fishermen about their voyage. They also try to explain to the detainees - skinny boys and craggy grandfathers who live on fish and a cup of rice a day - what will happen to them. Cummins wants to hook up with Quarantine officials on Thursday Island before they call it a day. Otherwise, the ACV crew will be babysitting the detainees in the harbor until the morning - a hassle, and also a bureaucratic drag on a $A5 million asset and a highly skilled crew that is supposed to be on call around the clock. Cummins unleashes the throttle and the Indonesians get a taste of Torres Strait waterskiing, Bay Class style.