The ship swung to her moorings, and the light from the port, diffused and golden, swung across the gloom, reaching to the girl. Poor child, even in life she had never belonged down there in that dreadful place, among that crowd of older women who huddled from her, suspicious, almost animal-like, watching not her but us. She should never have been in that frightful travelling prison, delivering her to a harem in Zanzibar, to a husband she had never seen, in an island far from her home.

Why should anyone care about the disappearance of sharks in the Saya de Malha Bank?  Ernest Hemingway once described going bankrupt as something that happens gradually… and then suddenly. The extinction of species is like bankruptcy, and when it finally occurs, there’s no going back. If we keep draining the Bank of one of its most previous riches, a “sudden” reckoning may be soon.

It is deceptively easy to get bogged down in the dominant paradigm of Traditional Sail that is centered on the archaeology and history of square rigged ships and fore and aft rigged work boats. This is, admittedly, a broad generalisation, but it is also one that I would defend.

The SARIMANOK was entirely made of vegetal elements, not a single nail was used, and was modelled upon the Filipino Vinta. There were no modern navigational instruments on board and the sailors relied only on the sun and stars to guide them.