The Perfect Storm

In New England, swordfishing began in the early 1800s, when fishermen harpooned the fish from small sailboats. In the 1960s, longline boats began to have success, though through most of the 1970s, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration banned the sale of swordfish because of what were then considered to be unacceptable concentrations of mercury in the fish. In 1978, the FDA relaxed these standards. By this time, technological advances like satellite navigation and monofilament (making possible the setting out of up to 30 or 40 miles of fishing line) had been introduced into fishing more broadly.

Up to this time, fishing hadn’t been strongly regulated, but in the 1980s, the National Marine Fisheries Service grew concerned about the use of mile-long nets and their impact on the swordfishing population. The Fisheries Services solicited comments from fishermen, many of whom suggested that swordfish counts were inaccurate to begin with. Sportsfishermen and commercial fishermen mistrusted one another’s methods, and nobody trusted the government. In the end, the Service began requiring swordfishermen to register their boats, which increasing numbers scrambled to do.

All sorts of fish populations did appear to decline in the latter part of the 20th century, largely in response to advances in technology. Russian factory ships, which could stay at sea for months at a time and process their catch as they went, were frequent culprits. In response to such overfishing, in 1976 Congress passed something called the Magnuson Fishery Conservation and Management Act, which extended national sovereignty 200 miles into the ocean. But, meanwhile, the American fleet had developed technology to rival the Russians, the fleet size doubled, prices dropped, and American fishermen resorted to more and more habitat-damaging habits.

By 1990, the swordfish population had crashed, and quotas were instituted for the North Atlantic—a limit of 2/3 the previous year’s catch. Each boat had to report its catch when it arrived back in port, and as soon as the quota was met, the fishery was shut down for the year. This meant that boats were racing each other back to port as the season declined. In the fall of 1991, the Andrea Gail was fishing under a quota for the first time.

Albert Johnston is back on the fishing grounds by October 17th, the Mary T situated farther south and closer to the Gulf Stream than the Andrea Gail. Johnston, now 36, has been fishing since he was a teenager. Established in the business, he’s beginning to relax more and take fewer risks. Fishing is the  most dangerous job in the United States, and danger can await a fisherman even on a cloudless day—if a hook catches him when nobody’s looking, he can be gone within seconds. And if a boat gets slammed in stormy seas when it’s too far out—as has happened to Johnston’s friends—then there’s no point in calling the Coast Guard.

So far, Billy Tyne hasn’t even caught enough fish to cover his expenses for this trip. Billy tells Linda Greenlaw that he’s going to need more fuel. Billy has a reputation for testing limits this way; Linda has bailed him out before. The Hannah Boden and Andrea Gail rendezvous south of the Flemish Cap—a dangerous maneuver—and Linda pumps fuel into the Andrea Gail’s tanks. (Boats help each other out this way all the time; it’s far less expensive than stopping for repairs or supplies in Newfoundland.) Unfortunately, Billy has other problems—his ice machine isn’t producing enough, his fish quality is dropping, and he can only make up that loss by catching more. He needs to do it in a hurry—they’ve already been at sea for three weeks.

One of the features of a boat that’s crucial in a storm is its ability to clear its decks. A boat’s deck contains gaps called scuppers (normally blocked with scupper plates, meant to be removed in dangerous weather) that permit water to drain. This is an especially crucial aspect of boat design because, if a boat’s deck becomes swamped, the boat quickly loses steerage and finds itself in severe danger. Thus it’s vital that, if a rogue wave overwhelms the deck, the scuppers be able to drain the water before another wave hits. For every boat, there is a “degree of roll” from which that boat can no longer recover. When a boat is rolled by a wave, it is being pushed downward by gravity (the weight of the boat and everything on it) and upward by buoyancy (all the enclosed air trying to rise) at the same time. The “righting moment” is the moment when a boat regains an even keel. The “zero-moment” point is when a boat’s decks have gone past vertical, and its center of gravity falls outside its center of buoyancy. At this point, the boat can no longer right herself.

Generally, the more trouble a boat gets in, the more trouble she’s likely to get into. When a boat gets partially flooded, it sits lower in the water and gets rolled by the waves for longer; steerage is correspondingly more difficult. If things get bad enough, a boat will turn broadside, meaning that it’s exposed to the waves’ full force, and a devastating influx of water can occur. While boats seldom sink, when it does happen, it tends to happen very fast.

Each boat has what’s called a stability profile. Its stability profile is determined during a dockside test in which a 5,000-pound weight is placed on a boat’s deck, and the angle of its heel is run through a mathematical formula to determine that boat’s righting moment. But even once a boat’s stability profile is known, many factors can affect it—extra gear loaded on the deck, use of different types of netting, etc. Because of these variable factors, boats under 79 feet long aren’t required to be tested for their stability profile. The Andrea Gail is 72 feet long and never underwent stability testing—making her quite typical.

Indeed, although no major issues were ever reported when the Andrea Gail was inspected and assessed on various occasions, there were plenty of things that might concern a captain like Billy Tyne. For instance, the Andrea Gail had a boxy shape, and its wheelhouse was set forward, affecting the vessel’s balance. And its most recent alterations, such as its icemaker and fuel oil drums, added much more weight, affecting its center of gravity.

Bob Brown believed that his boat was sound. In Gloucester, though, people seem less sure about Bob Brown. They acknowledge that he’s a successful self-built businessman and a hard worker. At the same time, he’s known for taking crazy risks, like fishing solo in open boats all winter long in order to feed his family. And in 1980, while lobster fishing with a crew off Georges Bank, his boat, the Fair Wind, foundered in a winter storm, and one crewman, Ernie Hazard, almost died of exposure after cutting himself adrift in a lifeboat. Another crewman drifted away to his death. On another occasion on the Hannah Boden, Brown lost another man. Bob began to get a reputation as “Suicide” Brown.

Around October 18th, Billy Tyne finally begins to get some better luck with fishing, making up for the bad weeks. Albert Johnston recalls that by October 24th, Billy was starting to head back toward port with about 40,000 pounds of fish, and that he sounded happy. Because he was heading back while many other boats were heading out, he’d be one of the only boats in port with a load of fish and would likely get a good price. He’s out of sync with the rest of the fleet, though, and the reasons for this are complex. Anything from a quirk in the Gulf Stream (affecting fish patterns and keeping Billy out by the Flemish Cap for longer than expected) to any number of other unpredictable factors mean that a group of about 50 or 60 people are on the North Atlantic’s storm grounds during the last week of October.

In early September, a sailor named Ray Leonard hires two experienced sailors—Karen Stimpson, who’s 42, and Sue Bylander, who’s 38—to crew his boat, the Satori, which he’s sailing to Bermuda. As they set sail on October 26th, Stimpson asks Leonard about a storm front she’s heard about. Leonard isn’t concerned—he figures they can always tuck into the Cape Cod Canal if things get rough. Looking back, Stimpson regrets putting her trust in somebody else to make that decision.

On October 24th, Billy Tyne charts his course for home. For some reason, he chooses not to take the relatively protected channel between Sable Island and Nova Scotia. Instead, he decides to cut across the Grand Banks’s Tail and then head due west to Gloucester once he’s clear of Sable Island. It should take about a week. As of the afternoon of October 27th, the weather is looking fair. That night, however, a weather report comes through the fax. A hurricane is coming off of Bermuda, a cold front from Canada, and another storm from the Great Lakes—all on course to converge on the Grand Banks. Linda Greenlaw calls Billy to ask him what he thinks. Billy says it looks like it’s going to be “wicked.”