I stood chatting with a merchant as the last of his goods were loaded onto my ship. He looked over the unusual rigging quizzically.
“Do you not move by sail?” he asked.
I chuckled. “No, but we can raise them in an emergency.”
“But I see no sign of a steam engine. How will you leave port?”
“That’s a trade secret, sir, but I can guarantee your goods will arrive in Boston a week before your competitors’.”
Below the waterline, the giant goldfish, raised and trained by my grandfather, strained against its harness, eager to carry us to the ocean.

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