"We are by no means up to capacity," Captain Blaize announced in a clipped Caribbean drawl. "But we come, by and by, a little closer to the production quotas each and every month. By this action, we relieve the strain on Grenada’s productive soil ... and its erosion ... and the overcrowding as well, you understand, Mr. Webster...." Blaize’s voice drifted through a singsong cadence, causing strange waves of glazed ennui to course through Laura’s brain. "Imagine, Mr. Webster, what a fleet of ships, like this, could do, for the plight of Mother Africa."