One of the final scenes.....
Beneath this paper lay a legal-looking file. I lifted the sole document inside, perused the first page. I could not believe the words at first—had to reread them several times. Finally, the full message became clear. According to this agreement, until this present voyage, a group of investors composed of George Pingree and other prominent Philadelphia Quakers held title to Hannah. Soule, however, had been purchasing increments of Hannah’s ownership for several years, dedicating portions of his captain's earnings as equity. What staggered me was this: At the end of this present voyage, Soule was to become Hannah’s full and only owner. Aye, the commitments were there in print, including Soule’s intention to change Hannah’s name to Rachel. A book of accounts beneath the file, and an envelope containing carefully sorted receipts, showed how Soule had sunk his entire savings into the purchase. In effect, Hannah was his at the time of the pact.
God—you can imagine how I felt. His had been a true sacrifice.
An early part of the narrative.....
What does a pilot do, you ask? His lot is quite simple. The craft exists for one single purpose: Those mariners voyaging blithely about the world’s oceans cannot possibly know all the unseen bottom crags and other hidden dangers waiting in each and every port, so we in our fraternity meet them at their voyage ends, guide them to safe, landside berths, and afterwards, return them on their way. To prepare for this mission, we learn every inch of sea bottom, every wisp of current, in the region of our home port. Just so, by deepening our knowledge of a single place--confining the scope of our world, you might say--we make it possible for others to venture out and explore far-off horizons. Such willing circumscription, such conscious bounding of reach, is not in every person’s nature. No wonder the events I would speak about turned out as they did.
