I believe that the reader who buys a modern sea story is entitled to a high degree of probability. Suspecting that SEA HUNTER might appear, at first, to defy that standard–what with high-tech wind-jammers, lethal dolphins, mammal-machine interface, and a six-hundred pound villain—I felt especially responsible to ground my fiction in fact.

Gigantic modern squared-rigged wind ships like William Tree’s Star of Alabama have been indeed coming down the weighs recently, and they are a remarkable sight, thanks to enormous amounts of money well spent by individuals who dream big. Some are almost as large as the great Chilean nitrate freighters of the early twentieth century. And there’s no reason they can’t be. What ended the golden age of sail was the difficulty of getting human beings to work so awfully hard under such brutal conditions if they had a choice to work warm and dry on land. As in many industries, technology has replaced sailors’ muscle power and we shall see more great ships progressing under clouds of sail.

Dolphin warfare was researched and practiced by both sides in the Cold War. The concept was so tempting: not only are dolphins smart, but they’re the most efficient predator in the sea. But much of what scientists hoped to accomplish–training the animals to carry messages, for instance, or to guard against enemy frogmen, or even lay mines–can now be better accomplished by mechanical means. On the other hand, subsequent development of miniature computers, GPS and satellite links has advanced the human side of the equation to a point where the two species may more profitably–or, as in SEA HUNTER, nefariously—interact.

Re-constructing visual images seen by animals, as the Killphin’s masters do–literally tapping into their eyes–has been achieved experimentally with cats and brings us as close as we’ve yet come to experiencing another being’s mind. For the images we see are not a point-of-view film as might be shot through a lens strapped to the creature’s head; we are seeing, instead, what the animal chooses to see, and therefore senses, desires, and fears.

And a six hundred pound villain? I was inspired by a distant cousin–and dear friend–one of the great characters I’ve had the privilege to know in life and business. Sadly, he has passed over. Whether he is currently observing this life from Above or Below, I can only hope that he revels in my depiction of William Tree. Of course, he had neither such a dark side or as black a heart as my villain and I have no doubt he rests in peace. He would have it no other way.