Glass Eels, Shattered Sea

by Charlene D'Avanzo

  Next, the chief mate reviewed mandatory safety regulations. “Know where the life jackets in your stateroom are, how to put them on correctly, and where you go on the ship during an emergency. Be prepared for a fire drill at any time. Review the safety protocols for this research vessel. Any corrosive chemicals must be stored in safety cabinets at all times, never left out on a table. Compressed air cylinders must be secured with approved metal brackets. Watch out for loose lines or ropes anywhere, especially out on deck, or anything slippery like water or oil.”

  Even though I had heard the safety talk a dozen times, on the way back to our cabin my grip on the ladder was especially tight, I made sure there was no water underfoot in the passageway, and I checked out our life jackets in the closet.

  Many of the scientists were out on deck when someone spotted the first tangible evidence that the Sargasso Sea was near. We ran to the port side to see it—a few long, thin windrows of Sargassum floating on the sea’s surface. Before long, the ship slipped though blue water, dotted with good-sized floating mats of brown seaweed as far as the eye could see.

  Harvey joined me at the railing on the upper deck. She was grinning to beat the band. “My god, we’re here and it’s glorious—warm, sunny, Sargassum everywhere!”

  Her excitement was infectious. Laughing, I said, “And calm, Harve. Don’t forget calm.”

  “The eel folks want to deploy that huge net system late this afternoon.” She glanced down at her wrist. “Around five or six.”

  “That’ll take a fair amount of time,” I said. “A few of their students have never used the net system, and it’s a bear to keep something that big from tangling. They’ve got to lay it on deck to separate the nets and get the whole thing ready for the A-frame winch.”

  “So how many nets are there?”

  “I’m pretty sure there are nine. Different mess sizes. And the nets are long—something like thirty feet.”

  “And what happens after they haul it back up onto the deck?”

  “Well, each net has to be washed down with a seawater hose so whatever is caught in a net runs into a sampling bucket or bottle. Then the technicians in the lab take over to count and sort all the zooplankton, little fish, whatever.”

  “Sounds like it all takes a lot of time,” she said.

  “Yup. And they’ll do multiple deployments at a station.”

  Leaning back against the railing, Harvey looked up at the cloudless sky. “Oh. I thought the chemists would get our chance while it was still light.”

  Eyeing the aft deck, I said, “Wouldn’t count on it. Dollars to donuts, you’ll be working down there in the dark, but they’ve got a great system of lights.”

  “And what about you and Ted? How will you get your Sargassum samples?”

  “Sampling for us on this cruise is the easiest thing we’ve ever done aboard a ship. We’ll be picking and sorting animals from Sargassum. To figure out the protocol, we’ll just use a long-handled net when the ship’s not moving, scoop up some seaweed, bring it to the lab, and go back for more. After that, when it’s safe, we’ll get in the water and collect seaweed samples further from the ship.”

  “Sounds like a piece of cake,” she said.

  “Well, there is one possible problem.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “If the sea gets rough, sitting in the lab picking tiny animals from Sargassum with tweezers will be a problem.”

  “You mean you might throw up.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And that would be bad.”

  I was looking for Alise when I found the first accident-waiting-to-happen. Since she was working with the chemists, I thought Alise might be in the analytical chemistry lab. The isolated room is at the forward port end of the main deck, where sensitive instruments are less likely to be contaminated by “biologists’ messes,” to quote Harvey.

  The lab’s door was tight, so I gave it a yank and stuck my head in. Alise wasn’t there, but a big bottle of sulfuric acid was—at the end of a table near the door. Appalled, I carried the bottle to the nearest safety cabinet, slid it onto the bottom shelf, and secured the door.

  I found Harvey in our cabin and described what had happened.

  Shouting, “Not again! Show me,” she headed for the door and walked-ran to the lab. I could hardly keep up with her.

  In the lab, I pointed to the table. “It was right there. I put it in the cabinet.”

  Harvey put one hand near the spot where the acid bottle had been, the other on her throat. “The smallest movement of the ship could have caused that bottle to smash onto the lab floor. Acid would’ve run everywhere. Whoever first smelled the sulfur fumes could’ve come in and slipped into an acid puddle. I don’t even want to think what would’ve happened to them.”

  “It’s horrible. What now?” I asked.

  “First, I lock this door. Then you and I report what happened to the captain. He’s in constant communication with people on shore and can relay the information to them.”

  Up in the bridge, Captain Davies had asked Nick Fisher, as chief scientist, to join us. Nodding in the direction of a crewmember at the helm, Davies said, “He’s the chief mate. We can all speak candidly up here.”

  After Harvey described what had happened, she and Nick decided that the analytical chemistry lab should be locked during the cruise. One scientist from each of the three chemistry teams would have a key.

  “Scientists aren’t used to locking labs, but we’ll figure out the logistics,” Harvey said.

  “Good,” Nick said. “Now, let’s get to what’s going on. This isn’t the first time an incident like this has happened on this ship, is it?”

  Harvey ran her fingers through her hair. “No, it’s not. During a deployment, a buoy fell on an MOI scientist named Peter Riley. Some climate change deniers paid a crewmember to scare us, but things got out of hand. That was before you were hired.”

  Nick looked at Harvey, then Davies. “Who was responsible then? Do you think it’s the same people?”

  The captain took the question. “I doubt it. Scientists on that trip were studying climate change, and they were clearly the target. We’ve posted this as a Sargasso Sea chemistry, ecology, and eel biology cruise.”

  “Captain,” I said, “there’s something you need to know.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

  “In the airport after we landed, I was interviewed by officials trying to catch glass eel traffickers. As I’m sure you know, there’s a lot of money to be made trafficking eels, and the people doing it are pretty ruthless. Calling this an eel cruise might be exactly the problem.”

  Shaking his head, Davies said, “Lord almighty. When we’re through here, I’ll talk with home base and tell them what has happened. They’ll contact law enforcement and then those folks will get back to me. If there’s anything we should do or be aware of, I’ll let you know.”

  Turning to Harvey, Nick said, “The scientists should be informed about this so they can warn their students and staff. I’ll speak with each team leader and they can take it from there.”

  Harvey added, “Ask them to report anything suspicious to you so you can relay that to Captain Davies.” Looking at Davies, she said, “What about the crew? Shouldn’t they be on alert as well?”

  “That’s something I want to discuss with the police.”

  She frowned. “But the crew needs to know.”

  “Yes,” Davies said. “But a crew member might be responsible for this. The police can tell me if anyone has a prior record I should know about.” He nodded toward the helm. “The chief mate here and I will figure out how to best alert the crew.”

  “You know,” I said, “a shipmate coming out of a lab would look a lot more suspicious than a scientist or student.”

  Nick frowned. “I’m not with you.”

  “A scientist and someone from the crew could be working together on this.”

  15

  I found Alise in the ecology lab, where three grad s
tudents were rinsing jars and filtering seawater to prepare for the onslaught of MOCNESS samples. After the net system was pulled through the water and brought back up onto the deck, zooplankton—tiny floating animals—caught in individual nets would be washed into a plastic jar filled with filtered seawater. Those jars would then be carried into the lab where the grad student “pickers” would take over. Using wide-bore pipettes, essentially long eyedroppers, their job was to pick out the plankton one by one, put the tiny animals in a petri dish, and then sort through and identify them.

  Zooplankton are the link between phytoplankton, the so-called “grass of the sea,” and larger animals, such as fish and whales. Oceanographers who study zooplankton deploy nets at different depths to determine where in the 3-D ocean domain these little floating animals live and why.

  The picker’s job, both tedious and exacting on a rocking ship, was not for wimps. The ones I had met were proud folks with a wacky sense of humor.

  Alise introduced me to the “MOCNESS team” and added, “Check out their T-shirts, Mara.”

  The students, all female, stood. One by one, I read aloud what was printed on their shirts.

  What does a mermaid wear to math lessons? … An algae-bra.

  Where does seaweed look for a job? … In the “kelp wanted” ads.

  Why don’t oysters give to charity? … Because they’re shellfish.

  I laughed, which felt great, considering recent events. “Thanks, you guys are a hoot. Alise and I need to brainstorm about our Sargassum protocol. We’ll do that at the other end of the lab so we don’t bother you.”

  Alise looked understandably confused since she, Ted, and I had already worked out how we would process the seaweed. But perceptive, as well as smart, she just nodded, followed me, and waited until I explained.

  I got right to it. “Someone put a full bottle of sulfuric acid at the end of a table in one of the chem labs. Fortunately, I walked into the lab looking for you and spotted it.”

  Alise, who had come close to being an acid victim on the climate change cruise, visibly paled. “Oh, no. Not again.”

  “It’s just the one incident. But we need to be on guard. If you see or hear anything, tell me right away. Okay?”

  “Yes, of course. But before, it was the global warming deniers. That’s not the focus on this trip.”

  “This is an eel cruise, and we’re thinking maybe it’s got to do with eel trafficking.”

  She frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense. Nick and the rest of the eel team are doing basic research on eel reproduction.”

  “I doubt traffickers would understand what basic research is, but right now we’re pretty much in the dark. Just pay attention and tell me if you hear or see anything.”

  Alise glanced at the pickers at the other end of the lab. “Can I tell them?”

  “Leave that up to Nick. He’ll be talking to all his students and staff. Now it’s up to us to be vigilant.”

  Tipping her head, Alise said. “Um, I didn’t think much about it at the time, but there was something. It happened in the passageway.”

  I leaned closer. “What happened?”

  “I’d just closed the door to my cabin and was walking toward the ladder when there was a noise. I turned around, but nobody was there.”

  “What kind of a noise?”

  “A whoosh.”

  “Like when someone closes a cabin door?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Like that. I had the strongest feeling someone had been watching me. It creeped me out.”

  The ship’s engine slowed, then stopped. “We’ve reached the first station,” I said.

  Alise jumped up. “I will pay attention, but I promised to help get the MOCNESS net ready.”

  I called out, “Be careful!” But she was already out the door and gone.

  By the time I got to the mess, Harvey and Ted were already eating. I settled myself across from them, looked around, and said, “Everyone know what’s happened?”

  “Everyone” (meaning Ted) said, “I just can’t believe this.” Leaning closer, he murmured, “And he could be right here in the mess.”

  It is bizarre to be in a crowded room when a mystery person, who means harm, could well be in view. I scanned a group of crewmembers seated together. Was it the guy with a scar across his cheek? The one next to him with a loud voice? How about the quiet guy who glanced at me and looked away? There was no telling, of course, and the miscreant might be somewhere else on the ship.

  Out in the open air after dinner, Harvey, Ted and I distracted ourselves by watching the first MOCNESS deployment on the deck below. The carefully prepared net lay limply at the end of the aft deck, as two crewmembers wearing orange hard hats reached down and clipped one end to a line hanging down from the sturdy A-frame crane, twenty-odd feet overhead. The ship’s engine gurgled as the helmsman on the bridge held her steady on station. Finally, one of the hardhat guys slid the fifty-foot-long net off the deck into the water, looked up at the bridge, and gave the signal.

  With a groan, the hydraulic crane came to life and lifted the net up off the deck. Then the A-frame reached far back over the water until the net floated on the surface well behind the ship. The crewmember signaled again, Intrepid ’s engine rumbled, and the ship slowly moved forward. The mammoth net stretched out and was soon swallowed by the sea.

  “We’re hardly moving,” Harvey said.

  I nodded. “Maximum towing speed for an apparatus like that is only a couple of knots.”

  “So how many nets are there,” she asked, “and how do they control them?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Ten nets, maybe? Sensors relay water conditions in real time, so the eel researchers can release each net at a specific depth, salinity, or other variable they are measuring.”

  “Huh,” she said. “Impressive.”

  I patted her on the back. “Believe it or not, Harve, biologists sometimes use instruments nearly as cool as chemists.”

  Ted said, “I’ve never seen a complicated net system like that deployed off a ship. Mara, what’d you think?”

  “With all that could go wrong, the whole procedure came off amazingly well. One thing, though, is that it looked dangerous. The crew setting out and retrieving the net were standing inches from the edge. If the ship lurched, they could’ve easily gone off the stern into the water.”

  Ted looked at Harvey and winked. “Maybe their balance is better than yours, Mara.”

  Feigning indignation, I said, “It was only the once, you know. But the water in the Pacific was a whole lot colder.”

  16

  Saying, “Gotta meet the chemists and get ready for our deployment,” Harvey left Ted and me alone to watch the darkening sky. A burning red crescent, the dying sun, dropped below the horizon and was gone, leaving a brilliant smudge where the sky met the water.

  Leaning over the railing, together we took in the Sargasso at dusk. No words could describe the warm night air, heavy with salt, the sway of the ship on a gentle sea, or the sudden pricks of stars overhead—and we didn’t try.

  After a while Ted said, “I’m bushed, so see you in the morning, Mara,” and left before the chemists came out on deck to deploy their set of instruments. Since I could watch for any trouble from my vantage on the upper level—and wasn’t tired, anyway—I decided to stay put and see what happened.

  Readying costly, bulky, and sometimes cranky oceanographic equipment for deployment and retrieval on a rocking ship is challenging enough in daylight. At night, the venture takes on an added layer of danger. Beyond the glare of bright light, trouble lurks in shadows—puddles to slip on, ropes to trip over, and maybe even someone looking to do harm.

  For chemists on this trip, dealing with seawaters’ weight was the challenge. Their plan was to deploy a dozen long PVC tubes, called Niskin bottles, clustered together in a circle called a rosette. As the rosette sampler descended through the water column, a chemist on deck could open each bottle independently at a specific de
pth. Empty, the apparatus weighed 400 pounds; full of seawater, the weight doubled. Additional instruments that measured depth, temperature, salinity, oxygen, and light made the rosette weigh even more. The death of our colleague Peter had already taught us that deploying heavy, bulky oceanographic instruments could be very dangerous indeed, and Peter was working in full daylight.

  The crew had the rosette ready to go when Harvey and her colleagues emerged from the shadows into the glare of the well-lit aft deck. From my vantage above, in their orange hard hats, yellow rain jackets, and rubber boots, the chemists looked like busy workers bees as they circled the six-foot-tall apparatus, checking and double-checking each instrument, switch, and valve. Finally satisfied, they backed away from the instrument and let the crew take over.

  Three crew members attached the rosette assembly to the A-frame hoist overhead. Stepping into the glare, one looked up at the bridge and gave the “go” signal. Once more, the A-frame came to life and slowly lifted the rosette up off the deck. As the frame reached back over the water, the circle of bottles swung gently on its line. In the ship’s lights I could—just barely—see the rosette touch the water and disappear into the depths.

  A person looking down into the ocean sees only water. Without the help of sensitive instruments, we cannot perceive dramatic changes in temperature, salinity, oxygen, turbidity, and light as the water deepens. In the Sargasso, for example, significant sunlight only reaches down to about 200 yards, or roughly two percent of the total depth. That is a thin slice of light in an otherwise dusky or utterly dark mass of water. In this unlit domain live a host of beautiful and bizarre sea creatures that most humans never see or even imagine.

  As a college student, I read The Sargasso Sea by Woods Hole scientist John Teal and his wife, Mildred. The chapter titled “Dive Number 356, DSRV Alvin” cemented my interest in marine biology. In it, John describes his trip in the submarine Alvin, 5,709 feet down to the depths of the Sargasso Sea. Animals—long and ropy salps, massive jellyfish, shrimp, squid, and fish with huge eyes that floated upside down—entertained Teal on the descent. Once on the muddy bottom, he witnessed brittle stars, sea urchins, fish several feet long, a shark, sea cucumbers, starfish, an octopus, and more.