Sea Disasters

Journalist Andrew Lewis chronicles the struggle of his New Jersey hometown to rebuild their ravaged homes in the face of the same environmental stresses and governmental neglect that are endangering coastal areas throughout the United States. Lewis grew up on the Bayshore, a 40-mile stretch of Delaware Bay beaches, marshland, and fishing hamlets at the southern end of New Jersey, whose working-class community is fighting to retain their place in a country that has left them behind.

Drawing on historical documents and contemporary accounts and on exclusive interviews with Carlsen's family, Delaney opens a window into the world of the merchant marine. With deep affection, and respect, for the weather and all that goes with it, he places us in the heart of the storm, a "biblical tempest" of unimaginable power. He illuminates the bravery and ingenuity of Carlsen and the extraordinary courage that the 37-year-old captain inspired in his stalwart crew.

On October 29, 1991, the 70-foot longliner Andrea Gail, on day 40 of an extended commercial swordfishing trip, was lost in a convergence of three powerful storms off Canada’s Grand Banks. Data buoys measured waves as high as 100 feet, and the boat was hit with winds measuring 80 knots (92 miles per hour). The Andrea Gail’s emergency beacon washed ashore that November on Sable Island, off the coast of Nova Scotia, but the boat and 6-man crew were never found. The crew left behind five children among them, and the entire small town mourned the loss.

There is a village that sits at the edge of lush rainforest, its stilted huts face the ocean, its children plunge below the water's surface with spears to learn the ways of their elders. This is the Surin Islands, on Thailand's Andaman coast, and home to the Moken, the world's last sea nomads. For centuries, the Moken roamed Burma's Mergui archipelago, diving for shellfish to trade for rice, taking shelter on land only during the monsoon season.

La temporada perlera de Tuamotú había terminado y todos los que habían trabajado en ella regresaban a Tahití. Los seis pasajeros que disponíamos de camarote éramos compradores de perlas. Había entre nosotros dos americanos, un chino (el más blanco que he visto en mi vida) que se llamaba Ah Choon, un alemán y un judío polaco. Yo completaba la media docena.La temporada fue tan próspera, que ni nosotros ni los ochenta y cinco pasajeros de cubierta teníamos motivos para quejarnos. Las cosas nos habían ido bien y todos estábamos deseando llegar a Papeete para descansar y divertirnos.