For a while the ship kept bucking and sidling like a vicious horse, the sails filling, now on one tack, now on another, and the boom swinging to and fro till the mast groaned aloud under the strain. Now and again there would come a cloud of light sprays over the bulwark, and a heavy blow of the ship's bows against the swell... (Jim Hawkins from Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island, 1883)

Timbers groaned and canvas flapped in the wind but our progress was dominated mostly by the effects of the twin Volvo Penta engines, working almost silently, down in the bowels of the ship. Diving done for the day, for most of us it was "Yo ho ho, and a glass of champagne... (John Bantin, 2002)

Wednesday 10 October. Sailed WSW at about eight knots, sometimes up to nine and a half, occasionally only five and a half... Then the Pinta, being faster and in the lead, sighted land and made the signal as I had ordered. (Journal of Christopher Columbus, 1492)

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS LATER, we were still making only eight knots. It takes about three and a half hours to cross the open ocean from South Male Atoll and we were all pleased to see the protective reefs and islands of Ari Atoll.
     The passengers of the Barutheela, an authentic replica of the Pinta, basked in their luxurious accommodation, which included unlimited water supplies to en-suite facilities that boasted high-flush toilets. We were attended by a crew of 11 bent on facilitating our every need. There were none of the hardships endured by the crew of Columbus's ship, and certainly no sign of a one-legged cook with a garrulous parrot by the name of Captain Flint.
     It took four years to build Barutheela, using imported Malaysian hardwood. No ply, glass fibre or any other modern materials were employed. Her twin masts come from the forests of Austria and she is ballasted with lead rather than the great stones used by the Spaniards in their galleons.
     Fitted throughout with brass portholes and other fittings discovered in the antiquity markets of Bombay, alongside other features lovingly hand-carved by the original owner, the effect is one of authenticity. The fact that the brass telegraph in the wheelhouse is connected to the finest Swedish engineering, or that the ship's wheel operates a modern hydraulic steering system, does nothing to alter that impression.
     Completed in 1996, Barutheela was completely restored, after a period of lay-up, in 1999. The new owners are Germans, Andrea and Gunter, and their main pre-occupation is their engineering business in Kuwait. Spanish romance meets German efficiency.
     Gunter explained that he wanted to be able to offer customers three different elements: the highest-quality diving afforded by the thilas and kandus of the Maldivian archipelago; a spectacular recreation of a long-gone era of sea travel aboard what looks like a pirate ship; and meal times that are an adventure of their own into the rarely visited world (at least on liveaboard dive boats) of the gourmet chef.
     Long John Silver, eat your heart out! I disgraced myself at each meal with everyone but Gerd, the Austrian chef - by always asking for seconds. The food was out of this world, leaning towards nouvelle cuisine but in greater volume. It was a long way from the "fish and rice" dishes routinely dished up on other Maldivian liveaboards.
     The meats, both chicken cuts and fillet steaks, served during an evening barbecue on an uninhabited island were among the most tender I have ever tasted. And passengers would gladly have killed to get their hands on more of Gerd's freshly baked garlic-bread rolls!
     Barutheela carries 14 passengers in twin and double cabins. It was originally designed as a completely self-contained dive vessel, but now, in line with standard practice in the Maldives, she works alongside a local boat, a diving dhoni which carries the compressors and all the paraphernalia needed to get the passengers happily under water.
     There is a choice of 10, 12 or 15 litre steel tanks and nitrox for those who order it when booking.
     The locally crewed dhoni is an important ingredient in diving in this part of the world. The Maldivians are called "the sea-people" by their neighbours in Sri Lanka. Because they live on the water, the dhoni crews know exactly where they are simply by observing and understanding the powerful currents that flow around their islands. This helps them to put divers in at the right spot and know where to recover them once they re-surface.
     And the "right spot" has become essential to the quality of the Maldivian diving experience since the loss of so much of the coral here after the global-warming disaster of 1998.
     "Current-points" are where the big action is encountered. They are usually found where an ocean current accelerates into a channel, or kandu, through to the lagoon of an atoll, or in the opposite direction. It is normal to find oneself charging along effortlessly past a fringing reef, always watchful for any up-current that might force you into the shallows or, worse, leave you marooned on the reef top. You need to be ready to deploy a reef hook and stop as soon as you see the turn of the channel entrance.
     Here, if you are lucky, is where the fish congregate, along with the predators that feed on them. It's an adrenalin-pumping experience.
     There are signs that the coral is regenerating in places but at the moment the landscape is mainly one of rubble where once mighty coral banks seemed to stretch on endlessly.
     From time to time we came across small flourishing areas that had miraculously escaped the destruction of the coral-bleaching process, and it is from such patches that the whole area is being re-seeded. There is hope that the Maldivian reefs will, in the not-too-distant future, return to their former coral splendour.
     However, diving is about more than coral. At Rangali, often known as Madivaru, or Manta Point, giant mantas arrive in groups from the open ocean. These gentle leviathans take part in glorious ballet routines, wheeling, rolling and pirouetting about a particular point on the reef where a variety of cleaner fish are ready to remove their parasites.
     Maya Thila is another exciting prospect. A thila is a Maldivian reef that can be seen as a shallow light patch against the dark blue of deeper water, but is deep enough at its top to let a boat pass safely over. Here whitetip reef sharks and enormous marble rays are in residence, making for a most frenetic night dive when both species are out competing for food. Hawksbill turtles and octopus are among the wide variety of other animals that enjoy the flows of water over the reef top.
     Mushi Masmaghilli Thila, otherwise known as Fish-head, is famous for the grey reef sharks that were at one time hand-fed here. Again, facing a massive ocean flow, I picked my way ahead of Callum (well-equipped with muscles but not with the simple steel reef-hook I carried) until I made it to the ultimate point where the irresistible water was split by the immovable rock face.
     There were plenty of sharks, and one very co-operative Napoleon wrasse that obviously liked being photographed with Callum's partner Sarah, another visiting instructor from Kuwait.
     Once I was low on film I decided to follow the reef wall on the opposite side, and was surprised to meet Callum now coming from that direction. He had never made it to the point, strong swimmer though he was. Now he was trying again to achieve the impossible, but from the other side of the reef.
     On the second dive on Fish-head we were dropped ahead of that all-important point and were able to make it directly there without the previous drama. The same major players were in evidence, and the grey reef sharks hung in the current with us right up to the 8m reef-top.
     Here Sarah and I hid behind a wing of reef to gain respite from the water-flow above us and watch the sharks. A moray eel wove itself about our legs and two hawksbill turtles fed on sponges alongside us, oblivious to our presence.
     Currents don't always move horizontally. When they hit a reef wall they must pass up and over, sideways and around or down back into deep water, creating a "washing-machine" effect.
     Up-currents tend to continue for as long as the reef wall does. You need to dump all your buoyancy and swim continuously downwards to counteract the effects. Sideways currents are easy to handle - simply go with them until they turn that all-important corner into a channel. Down-currents can be scary.
     Experienced divers keep a close eye on what's happening to the clouds of bubbles exhaled by other divers within their field of vision. You need to be prepared if they start going downwards.
     Finding that you still progress downwards with your BC fully inflated can lead to frantic finning, which is effective if you remember to fin sideways and not upwards. The trick is to swim out of the flow, as the effect is always localised. Stay in it and you will be tumbled like a towel in the Zanussi, your computer squealing in protest.
     Such experiences provide entertaining conversations after those gourmet meals back on Barutheela, as the steward delivers your afternoon tea or a cool drink while you sunbathe on her broad decks, waiting for the next dive. Barutheela is for those who want something more than straight diving.

The Barutheela's wheelhouse


Foredeck on the Barutheela.


Its saloon


bigeyes on the reef


marble ray feeding at Maya Thila


Napoleon wrasse at the Fish-head site


bigeye emperors


Manta at the raywash - with cleaner fish - at Rangali


an example of healthy coral reef


hawksbill turtle at Fish-head


octopus at Maya Thila