Daniel wants to say that Wait Still's best arguments would be about as influential as boogers flicked against the planking of a Ship of the Line in full sail, but sees no reason to be acrimonious – the whole point of the exercise is to be remembered well by those who'll stay in the New World, on the theory that as the sun rises on the eastern fringe of America, small things cast long shadows westwards. 'The future is as set as the past,' he says, 'and the future is that I'll climb on board the Minerva within the hour. You can argue that I should stay in Boston to raise my son. Of course, I should like nothing better. I should, God willing, have the satisfaction of watching him grow up for as many years as I have left. Godfrey would have a flesh-and-blood father with many conspicuous weaknesses and failings. He'd hold me in awe for a short while, as all boys do their fathers. It would not last. But if I sail away on Minerva, then in place of a flesh-and-blood Dad – a fixed, known quantity – he'll have a phant'sy of one, infinitely ductile in his mind. I can go away and imagine generations of Waterhouses yet unborn, and Godfrey can imagine a hero-father better than I can really be.'