Chapters (45)
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
“The Sentinels have never underestimated how tough it would be to end a tradition that goes back hundreds of years,” Ryan answered. "The Faroese have the same stubbornness their Viking forefathers needed to survive. They're not about to give in to a bunch ofwhale- huggers like us. But while I admire the Faroese, I think the grindarap is cruel and barbaric. It's unworthy of the islanders as a people. I know a few of you have been to a grind before. Anyone care to sum it up.
“Damned bloody business,” the BBC reporter admitted. “But I don't like fox hunts, either.”
“At least the fox has a sporting chance,” Ryan said, his jaw hard- ening. “The grind is simply a massacre. When someone spots a pod of pilot whales, the siren goes off, and boats herd the whales in to shore. The locals-women and kids sometimes-are waiting on the beach. There's a lot of drinking and it's a big party, for everyone except the whales. The people stick gaffs into the whales' blowholes and drag the animals inshore, where they have their jugular veins cut and they bleed to death. The water turns red from the blood-letting. Some- times you'll see people sawing the animals' heads off while the whales are still alive!”
A blond female reporter said, “How is a grind any different from slaughtering steers for beef?”
“You're asking the wrong person,” Ryan said. “I'm a vegan.” He waited for the laughter to die down. “Your point is well-taken, though. We may be protecting the Faroese from themselves. Pilot- whale meat is loaded with mercury and cadmium. It's hurting their children.”
“But if they want to poison themselves and their kids,” the re- porter said, “isn't it intolerant of SOS to condemn their traditions?”
“Gladiatorial combat and public executions were traditions once. Civilization decided these savage spectacles have no place in the mod- ern world. Inflicting unnecessary pain on defenseless animals is the same thing. They say it's tradition. We say it's murder. That's why we're back.”
“Why not continue with the boycott?” the BBC man asked. Therri addressed the question. “The boycott was too slow. Hun- dreds of pilot whales continue to be killed. So we've changed our strategy. The oil industry wants to sink wells in these waters. If we bring enough bad publicity to the hunt, the oil companies might hold back. That would put pressure on the islanders to end their grinds.”
“And we've got other business here as well,” Ryan added. “There's a multinational fish-processing company that we're going to picket to demonstrate our opposition to the harmful effects offish-farming.”
The Fox News reporter was incredulous. “Is there anyone you don't plan to antagonize?”
“Let me know who we've missed,” Ryan said to laughter.
The BBC man said, “How far do you intend to push your protest?”