The 'Phyllis cormack', an old fishing trawler that has seen better days, slows as it approaches an object somewhere in the lonely Pacific, a few hundred miles off the coast of California. On board, the crew realise they've come across a baby sperm whale, blood staining the sea around its lifeless body.
A young sailor named Paul Watson clambers on the carcass, something he'll later describe as a turning point in his life. He notes how warm it still is; that the whale's eyes remain open. The Phyllis Cormack is just a mile from a nine-strong Russian whaling fleet, led by the lumbering Dalniy Vostok, which has blood gushing from its gunwales as carcasses are butchered on deck.
The graphic footage of all this, shot on 16mm film, may be 40 years old, but it is surprisingly clear and powerful. Some of the crew of the Phyllis Cormack take to inflatable Zodiac motor boats. One, helmed by a thirty-something, long-haired Canadian called Bob Hunter, positions itself between the Vostok and a pod of whales. Suddenly, a Russian harpoon points directly at him. The cameras roll as the Russian gunner fires and a harpoon soars just feet above the Zodiac, impaling one of the whales beyond. As the water turns red, Hunter and the other Zodiacs return to the mothership while the eight surviving whales flee to safety.
What happened that day has been described as the moment that launched the modern environmental movement, as that disparate band of hippies aboard the old fishing boat ended up giving birth to Greenpeace.
In the decades since, there have been fall-outs, lawsuits, and difficult questions about the role of Greenpeace (not to mention a tussle over Brigitte Bardot). But what began with a small group of idealistic individuals intent on fusing the peace movement with the environmental movement evolved into something monumental.
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