And that was it - a new plan was taking shape. Out on the Anuva, we still had three people - Ann, Kate and now Sebastian - Dima had been taken off, after injuring his hand. They were about to have company.

Around 2am, the inflatables 'Grey Whale' and the 'African Queen' were alongside the Anuva - Mir clicked the caving ladder into place, and a stream of orange-clad Esperanzians shimmied up the steel cables. Now there were 12 of us on board the Lithuanian/Spanish ship. We busied ourselves getting comfortable, sharing out food, making sure the three veterans were ok. Then we settled down to wait, huddled together out of the wind. Some of us dozed, others chatted.

Around 5am, the trawl cables - right above our heads - started creaking and whirring. This was the beginning of the haul. For half an hour, we stood back from the lethal steel wires, and waited. Then the bottom trawler's crew appeared, so we all moved to the deck above, to watch the action from above. It was a relatively small catch, but we could see huge crabs and chunks of coral caught in the net.

As soon as the cod end was emptied, we tore down to the main deck, and sat on the net - all of us! This led to us being dragged around a bit by the fishermen - but not much else happened for a little while. We picked up branches of gorgonian fans and other deep sea life - there was gorgonian coral on the deck that the fragments were being crunched under boots. One big crab was still alive, frantically trying to cut its way out of the net, it's weird mouth gasping for oxygen.

Action Dave spoke to the captain - it turned out that the trawler was going to be steaming for eight hours to its next trawl site. We elected to stay on board, despite the lack of sleep. The weather - while blowing gale force 8 - was still bearable for launching inflatables -but the window was closing, and Saturday night wasn't looking good. The trawler's fishmaster informed us that they had work to do on the nets - so they hoisted them up and dragged all of us down towards the stern.

We arrived by the stern ramp looking like Greenpeace bycatch - a dozen activists in orange suits tangled in green nets. People were trying to sort out who owned what leg. We were like a pile of human bycatch. As we disentangled, the trawlermen started mending holes in the nets - while their skipper walked around, hurling bits of coral over the side of the ship - and bringing one large specimen down below deck. This was the same man who had told us 'no, we don't trawl on the bottom'. But we had proof. There's not much coral swimming around in midwater... Then they moved the net again, which meant us getting dragged back towards the bridge of the trawler.

After this, we had the deck to ourselves for a few hours - we ate, drank hot chocolate, slept. People kept finding new nooks and crannies where they could be comfortable. Me, I slept out in the middle of the main deck, on the fishing net, which still had dozens of dead sharks in it. I just propped myself up, and dozed off, but was woken occasionally by a rain of icy water - the ship was rolling a lot, and waves were coming over the side. Dragged from dreams with a mouthful of salt water.

Then - around lunchtime, things started getting crazy. The skipper and one of the other crewmen made sure we were dragged right up to the stern ramp; it's a sort of door that stops waves coming in, and stops people falling out. Some of our guys blocked the control, so the trawler's skipper turned a firehouse on all of us, trying to wash us off the net, and away from the controls. It didn't work - Most of us were in survival suits if not drysuits, so we didn't really get wet. But then, in frustration, he fought his way through, and got the ramp down.

At this point, the end of the net was suspended by a cable, out over the stern ramp - François was sitting out in mid-air, over the ramp. Miguel was next, followed by Chris, followed by me. Behind me was Odin, Ann, Maite, Alain and Sebastian. Dave was on the radio, talking to the inflatables. Kate was taking pictures, and Ed was standing by. We were surrounded by crewmembers - who were apparently from Spain, Lithuania, Ukraine, Russia, Sierra Leone and Congo. They were ready to launch their nets, but couldn't be sure what their boss was going to do with us.

Suddenly a jerk - and the cable slackens - I'm face down on the net, heading towards the ramp - Francois and Miguel tumble down in the boiling sea. Chris and I get tangled, and Odin goes flying past. My knee gets caught in the gutter before the ramp; I get spun off the net, onto the deck, then pulled aside by a trawlerman. Everyone else jumps off the net, but stays on the ship. We've got three people in the water, and the inflatables are moving rapidly, in order to rescue them from the big swell. Within a couple of minutes, they're all on board the boats, and safe, if not completely dry.

On the Anuva, the other nine of us quickly pack up, and ready ourselves for getting off. While Dave and Sebastian are telling off the skipper for endangering our guys, I find a huge branch of coral, and get it into the Grey Whale. The captain is unapologetic - he even says he likes Greenpeace - but he also adds that he has a job to do. This job, it seems, involves destroying the seamounts of the North Atlantic, and making sure that anyone who disagrees with him gets a dunking in a stormy sea.

We're all back on the Esperanza now - home, dry, and, very, very tired. Some of us had been on board the Anuva for nearly 24 hours - the rest of us for nearly 12. There will be a lot of sleeping done on board this ship tonight.

- Dave

P.S. Here's an image gallery of shots from the boarding.