In Hot Pursuit

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Each week, about 500 papuan coastal dwellers and Torres Strait Islanders are granted permission by elders to make a short hop to the neighboring country without a passport or visa. They are able to do so within the designated Protected Zone because of an agreement between Australia and P.N.G. that tries to preserve age-old practices such as hunting, fishing, trading and ceremonies. ACV Commanding Officer Mark Fitzsimmons, a genial and thoughtful man with a reassuring smile, has been with Customs since 1980. Navigating the narrow channel between Saibai Island, part of Australia, and mainland P.N.G., Fitzsimmons notes the stark differences in wealth among the inhabitants, who are essentially from the same clan. On Saibai, homes have electricity, a barge brings fresh food, and there are roads, street lights and cars. Two nautical miles north, there's not a light to be seen at night. "There are no luxuries there," says Fitzsimmons of the P.N.G. coastal villages. "It's subsistence living. The people can look across to Saibai and see how their cousins live. You can understand why the Papuans will try and run marijuana to the Australian islands: we have the money and they have nothing."

On an overcast Saturday, Fitzsimmons anchors the Hervey Bay off Dalrymple Island, an uninhabited lush coral cay, to set up a checkpoint: 52 Papuans are traveling to Yorke Island for a funeral on Monday. Eight boats are expected to come from Daru Island down the Great North East Channel or, if the weather is rough, the western side of the Warrior Reefs; either way, they'll come past the stakeout position. Overnight, on a high tide, a boat has washed up on Dalrymple. Customs officer Peter Leeman and sailors Joe Homer and Peter Page take a tender to the island to investigate and find 11 stranded villagers from Daru. Cold, wet and miserable, they have no water, or matches to start a fire; the only food they have is for the funeral and they are reluctant to eat it. In rough seas and with extra passengers, the captain miscalculated how much fuel the 6-m "banana boat" dinghy required; deciding to head for land, he reached the island in the early hours with half a cup of fuel remaining. After a check of their permits and belongings, the Papuans are given fuel, food and water and, with great relief and gratitude, they continue their journey to Yorke. Based on Thursday Island, Leeman has joined the crew of the Hervey Bay to intercept a 10-kg cargo of cannabis. A week ago, a cross-border patrol of P.N.G. waters by Botany Bay (carrying law-enforcement agents from both countries) produced intelligence about the shipment, the name of a suspected importer, and the likely drop-off time; the Yorke funeral provides a cover for the smugglers, hence the ocean checkpoint. As Leeman, Homer and Page are drying off on the deck after the rescue, a banana boat holding what appears to be two men scoots past the ACV. Jumping into the tender, the three officers chase it down. The boat turns out to be carrying 15 people - infants, a grandmother, men, women and children - huddled beneath black plastic sheeting to stay dry and avoid the cold wind. Their documents are in order. By 0900, half the Yorke funeral travelers have passed the checkpoint and there's still no sign of the smuggler.

Fitzsimmons and Leeman set off from the ACV in a tender to reconnoiter. Leeman is hoping to improve the knowledge base in the district office by taking photographs of little-known islands in the immediate area, recording their topography and the best sea approaches in case of a future incident, such as a search-and-rescue or a suspected illegal entry vessel. They've also brought along a rod and reel, hoping that dragging a lure in the water might attract a plump fish for dinner. Moored just off Masig, the larger of Yorke's islands, is Mr. Nobody, a fishing boat out of Cairns. A bleary-eyed crew greets Fitzsimmons and Leeman; the coral-reef fish haven't been biting, the dorys (the "tinny" fishing boats attached to trawlers) returning empty. One of the crew, David Rhodes, recognizes photographer Russell Shakespeare from a previous encounter. "I'll tell you a story," says Rhodes upon meeting Time's reporter. "Two Murray Islanders put a spear to my throat and stole all my fish. I was fishing 14 nautical mi. from their island." Sea rights is a hot issue in the Torres Strait following landmark native-title decisions in the 1990s; a whiff of secession talk intermittently sweeps through Islander communities, which have been known to dispense harsh treatment to outsiders.