Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we are opening
the charts, literally and figuratively, to talk
about a man who redrew the map of the world.
And that's not a metaphor, is it? Not at all.
Before this guy, the map had a big Here Be Dragons
sign, where the Indian Ocean meets the Atlantic.
After him, it was a highway. It's one of those
genuine pivot points in history. You really do
have the world before 1498 and the world after.
We're talking, of course, about Vasco da Gama.
Now, if you've walked around Lisbon or really
any major city in Portugal, you've seen the statues.
Oh, they're everywhere. The guy looks heroic,
beard, sword, gazing boldly at the horizon. He
has bridges named after him, shopping centers,
football teams. There's even a crater on the
moon with his name on it. Which is fitting, I
guess, because what he did was pretty much the
15th century equivalent of a moonshot. It absolutely
was. But, you know, the problem with statues
is that they're made of stone. They're cold.
They're hard. And they don't tell you the messy,
human, and often incredibly violent story behind
the legend. Exactly. And that's our mission today.
We want to chip away at the marble and see the
man underneath. Because when we dug into the
source material, the ship logs, the chronicles,
the letters, we didn't find a simple hero. Not
at all. We found a walking paradox. A figure
of extreme contradictions. That's a perfect way
to put it. On one side of the ledger, you have
this navigational genius. A man with nerves of
steel who connects Europe to Asia by sea, something
nobody had ever done. He fundamentally changes
the global economy. But on the other side of
that ledger, yikes. Yikes is putting mildly.
You have a commander capable of a level of brutality
that was shocking even by the standards of the
1500s. We're talking about a man who used terror
as a strategic tool. As a primary tool. So we're
going to unpack all of it, the immense feats
of seamanship that opened up the world and the
ruthless methods he used to dominate it. But
to really get why da Gama even matters, we have
to set the stage. We do. We have to go back to
the late 15th century. What was the vibe in Europe?
Desperate. In a word, Europe was desperate. And
it was all about dinner. Specifically, what you
put on your dinner. Spices. Pepper, cinnamon,
cloves. Nutmeg. Things we just have in a rack
in the kitchen. Exactly. Things you buy for a
few dollars and forget about for five years.
Yeah. But back in the 1400s, spices were the
oil and microchips of the global economy all
rolled into one. So why were they so valuable?
Was European food just that bland? Well... Yes,
partly. But it was so much more than flavor.
Spices were preservatives. They were status symbols.
They were used in medicine. If you had pepper
on your table, you were letting everyone know
you were rich. Okay, so massive demand. But Europe
had a huge supply chain problem. The bottleneck.
The mother of all bottlenecks. That's right.
The spices grew in India, in the Far East. To
get to a table in Lisbon or London, that pepper
had to travel on Arab dhows across the Indian
Ocean, up the Red Sea or the Persian Gulf. Get
offloaded in Egypt or the Levant, travel overland.
And then, and this is the absolute kicker, it
was all bought up by the Venetians. The Republic
of Venice, the ultimate middleman. The ultimate
middleman. Venice controlled the entire Mediterranean
trade. They bought the spices from the Islamic
world and sold them on to the rest of Europe.
And every time that spice act changed hands,
the price just went up and up. Skyrocketed. Venice
was getting filthy rich and countries like Portugal
were bleeding gold just to buy what were essentially
basic commodities. So the economic incentive
is crystal clear. If you can cut out the middleman,
cut out Venice, cut out the overland routes.
and go straight to the source. The profit margin
isn't just double. It's astronomical. It's the
difference between buying a marked -up iPhone
from a scalper and owning the entire Apple factory.
That's a great analogy. So King John II of Portugal,
he has this vision. He wants to break the monopoly.
He wants to find a sea route around Africa all
the way to India. And this wasn't a sudden idea,
right? This was a long -term project. A generational
project. You have to give a nod to Prince Henry
the Navigator. For decades, Portuguese ships
had just been inching their way down the coast
of West Africa. Mile by painful mile. Mapping
the coast, setting up little trade posts. But
there was this huge psychological barrier. They
didn't actually know if Africa ended. Right.
There was a genuine fear, based on old Ptolemaic
maps, that the Indian Ocean was landlocked. That
Africa just connected to some giant southern
continent. The idea that there was just no way
through. Until 1488. The big one. The breakthrough.
Bartolome Dias, he sails south, gets absolutely
battered by storms, and inadvertently gets pushed
all the way around the tip of Africa. He sees
the coast turning north. He sees the coast turning
north, and he proves it. The Atlantic and the
Indian Oceans connect. That must have been a
massive eureka moment for the king. Huge. But
Dias had to turn back. His crew was on the verge
of mutiny. They were exhausted. They were terrified.
But the key thing was, now the king knew the
door was there. He just needed someone to walk
through it and see what was on the other side.
And this is where it gets a bit like a spy thriller.
Before sending to Gama, the king sends secret
agents. He does. Perot de Covillon and Afonso
de Paiva. He sends them overland, disguised as
merchants. They go through Cairo, down the Red
Sea, all the way to India. What's their mission?
They're scouting the markets. They're checking
prices, figuring out who's in charge, mapping
the ports from the inside out. Pure intelligence
gathering. So da Gama's mission isn't just a
shot in the dark. It's the final piece of a very
calculated puzzle. Exactly. The king has the
route to the cape from Dias. He has the market
intel from the spies. He just needs a man to
connect the two dots. He needs a closer. He needs
a closer. And that brings us to Vasco da Gama.
So who was this guy? He wasn't royalty, but he
wasn't a nobody either. No, not at all. He was
born in signs. a small rocky seaport on the Alentejo
Coast, probably in the 1460s. His father, Esteban
de Gama, was the governor of the town and a knight
of the Order of Santiago. So he comes from a
noble military family. A minor noble family,
but very well connected. And his mother, Isabel
Sodré, she was of English descent, and her family
was deeply connected to the Order of Christ.
That context seems really important. It's crucial.
Vasco isn't just raised as a sailor. He's raised
in this atmosphere of the Portuguese military
religious orders. He sees himself as a knight,
first and foremost. A crusader mentality. 100%.
He isn't just looking for pepper. He sees himself
as a soldier of Christ fighting against the infidel.
And that really colors everything he does later
on. We actually get a glimpse of his personality
before the big India trick. There's an incident
in 1492. This is a great story. It really establishes
his character. French pirates had attacked some
Portuguese ships. King John II was furious. He
needed someone to send a message. And he didn't
pick a diplomat. He picked a gama. He sent him
down to the ports of Setúbal and the Algarve
with one order. seize every single French ship
you can find. Just impound them. Impound them,
take the crews, everything. Full -on retaliation.
And how did he do? He was ruthless and incredibly
efficient. He just locked down the ports, seized
all the ships, and basically held the French
merchant fleet hostage until the King of France
caved and apologized. So he's competent, he's
loyal, and he is not afraid to crack some skulls.
He's the perfect candidate for the India run.
When the time came, the king needed someone who
had the navigational skill, but also the sheer
force of will to keep a crew in line for what
they knew would be a terrifyingly long journey.
Okay, let's look at that journey. Section 2.
Into the Unknown. July 8th, 1497. The fleet leaves
Lisbon. What are we looking at here? Huge armada.
Surprisingly, no. It was more like a surgical
strike force. Just four ships, the flagship,
the San Gabriel, which Vasco commanded himself,
then the San Rafael, commanded by his brother,
Paulo da Gama. Which is interesting, keeping
it in the family. It makes a lot of sense. In
a situation where mutiny is a constant real risk,
you want your second -in -command to be someone
you can trust implicitly. Who better than your
own brother? True. And the other two? There's
the Burio, a faster Caravelle, and then a larger
storage ship that was just full of supplies.
How many men? It's about 170. But these were
the absolute best of the best. The king stripped
other fleets to give da Gama the most experienced
pilots and navigators in all of Portugal. They
knew this was the big one. Not the route. This
is where we see the real navigational genius.
I think most people would assume that to get
around Africa, you just hug the coast. And if
you do that... You will fail. The winds and the
currents along the coast of West Africa, especially
in the Gulf of Guinea, they're brutal. They just
push you back towards Portugal. So you're fighting
the ocean every inch of the way. Every inch.
It's slow, it's hot, and it just destroys ships
and crews. So da Gama does the unthinkable. He
reaches Sierra Leone and then he turns the wheel.
He turns away from Africa. He sails west. Out
into the vast open Atlantic. Towards what would
eventually be Brazil. Basically, yeah. He's hunting
for the westerlies, the big circular wind patterns
of the South Atlantic. He's gambling that if
he swings wide enough, he'll catch a massive
tailwind that will just slingshot him around
the Cape of Good Hope. Just think about the psychological
toll of that decision for the crew. It's terrifying.
They sailed for over three months. More than
90 days without a single glimpse of land. Wow.
Just endless ocean. Day after day after day.
For context, Columbus was only out of sight of
land for, what, 30 -something days on his first
voyage? Right. This is triple that. It was the
longest voyage out of sight of land in human
history up to that point. Over 10 ,000 kilometers
of open water. Imagine being a sailor on that
ship. You have no idea if the admiral is a genius
or if he's completely insane. You're just trusting
his math. You're just trusting his math and praying.
And the conditions on board. They must have been
horrific. Unbelievably bad. The water goes foul.
It turns green and slimy. The heart attack abisc
is getting infested with weevils. And then, of
course, a scurvy starts to set in. We hear about
scurvy a lot, but I don't think we really appreciate
just how awful it is. It's a total breakdown
of the body. Your gums swell up until they completely
cover your teeth so you can't even chew. Your
joints swell to the size of melons. And, weirdly,
old wounds just open up. Yeah. If you had a cut
from 20 years ago that had healed, the scar tissue
literally dissolves and it starts bleeding again.
It is a slow, agonizing way to die. But somehow,
Dagama holds the crew together, and the gamble
pays off. It pays off spectacularly. In November
1497, they swing back east, and boom, there it
is. The African coast. They had bypassed the
doldrums perfectly. They rounded the Cape. By
Christmas, they were sailing up the East Coast.
A coast they named Natal, to honor the birth
of Christ. Exactly. But now they are leaving
the known world. They are entering the Indian
Ocean. And this is not an empty sea. No, this
is a busy highway. It's the trade hub of the
medieval world. Arab, Persian, Indian, Chinese
ships crisscrossing constantly. It's a sophisticated
ancient network. And the Portuguese are, well,
they're the barbarians at the gate. They make
their first major stop at Mozambique Island in
March 1498. And da Gama immediately realizes
that being a Christian crusader might not be
the best opening line in a Muslim -controlled
port. Right, so he decides to go undercover.
He dresses himself in Muslim robes, tries to
pass himself off as a visiting dignitary from
North Africa. He wants an audience with the sultan.
But the ruse fails. Why? The gifts. This is a
recurring comedy of errors in this whole story.
The Portuguese brought trade goods that were
valuable to tribes in West Africa. You know,
copper bracelets, little bells, simple cloth.
But the sultan of Mozambique is wearing silk
and gold. He's a sophisticated ruler in a wealthy
port. He looks at Dagama's cheap trinkets and
he's just insulted. It's like bringing a bag
of marbles to a diamond exchange. Perfect analogy.
The locals realized these guys weren't who they
said they were. Rumors spread that they were
Christians. The mood turned very ugly very fast.
So Dagama has to flee. And this is where we see
the first real flash of the ruthless commander
side of him. He doesn't just sail away quietly.
As he leaves, he orders his ships to fire their
cannons into the city. He just bombards the town
out of spite. It's a pattern. It's a pattern.
Respect me or I will burn your house down. He
does the same thing up the coast in Mombasa.
They try to loot some unarmed ships, basically
resorting to piracy, and they get chased out
of there too. Oh, it's not going well. They're
running lawn supplies, the crew is sick, and
every port they visit becomes hostile. Until
they reach Malindi. Now Malindi was a major rival
of Mombasa, so the Sultan of Malindi sees these
heavily armed Portuguese ships and thinks, the
enemy of my enemy is my friend. Local politics
saves the day. It does. The sultan welcomes them.
He gives them fresh food and water. And most
importantly, he gives them the one thing they
need more than anything else. A pilot. A pilot.
Someone who knows the road. More than that, someone
who knows the monsoons. Right. The Indian Ocean
works on a schedule. A very precise schedule.
In the summer, the winds blow towards India.
In the winter, they blow back to Africa. If you
catch the wind, you fly across the ocean. If
you try to fight it, you die. So they get this
pilot and there's some debate over who it actually
was, right? Yeah, legend says it was the famous
navigator Ibn Majid. But modern historians think
that's unlikely. But whoever he was, he was a
pro. He showed Dagama the way. They left Malindi.
Caught the monsoon. And crossed the entire Indian
Ocean in just 23 days. Unbelievably fast. It's
a straight shot. And on May 20th, 1498, they
see the mountains of the Malabar Coast. They
drop anchor off Koji Kodi, or Calicut as the
Europeans called it. The finish line. They made
it. This is the heart of the global spice trade.
It's a massive, wealthy, cosmopolitan city. And
when Degama steps ashore, he's greeted by a procession
of 3 ,000 armed nares, the warrior caste of Karakoram.
A show of strength from the local ruler, the
Zemarin. Exactly. But then we have this incredible
misunderstanding. The Gama decides to visit a
temple. Oh, this is one of those truth is stranger
than fiction moments. The Portuguese were obsessed
with this idea that there was a lost Christian
kingdom in the east, the kingdom of Trester John.
They were desperate to find Christian allies.
So they walk into a Hindu temple. They see statues
of the goddess Parvati. And they think it's the
Virgin Mary. They are so blinded by their own
confirmation bias that they literally kneel down
and start praying. They report back to the king
that the people of Calicut are Christians, just,
you know, heretical ones, who for some reason
paint their saints with extra arms and elephant's
heads. It's hilarious, but it just shows how
completely out of their depth they were. Totally.
But the comedy stops when they get to the palace.
Jagama finally gets his audience with the zamorin.
This is the moment to seal the deal. And we are
right back to the gift problem. The gift problem,
part two. Okay. Dagama presents his offering
to one of the richest monarchs in the world.
And he offers scarlet cloth, hats, corals, wash
basins, sugar, oil, and honey. Hats and honey.
Hats and honey. The Zamorin's courtiers laughed
in his face. The powerful Muslim merchants who
controlled the trade in Calicut. had a field
day. They must have loved it. They pointed out
that an ambassador from a truly powerful king
would send gold, silver, jewels. This. This is
the cargo of a common pirate, not a royal envoy.
They called him a nobody. They humiliated him.
The Zamorin refused to sign a trade treaty. He
refused to let the Gamama leave a factor or trading
agent behind. He even told the Gamma he had to
pay customs duties like any other merchant. The
Gamma must have been absolutely seething. Furious.
He felt disrespected on every level. So he decides
to leave. But he doesn't just leave quietly.
He kidnaps a few nares and 16 fishermen who are
just working on the beach. Just grabs them. Gregs
him onto his ships. He says he's taking them
to Portugal to show them the power of his king,
but it's just kidnapping. It's a final, hostile
act. And then the return journey. He makes a
critical mistake here, doesn't he? He ignores
the local knowledge. He's angry, he's impatient,
and he decides to sail back to Africa against
the monsoon. The trip there with the monsoon
took 23 days. How long did the trip back take?
Over 90 days. Oh my God. Three months, fighting
the wind and the sweltering heat. The scurvy
came back, but worse than before, people were
dying every single day. They lost so many men
they couldn't even crew all the ships. Exactly.
They had to take the San Rafael, his own brother's
ship, and burn it at sea. They just scuttled
it because they didn't have enough healthy sailors
to sail it home. And his brother Paulo. Paulo
de Gama didn't make it. He died of illness in
the Azores, just weeks away from Portugal. Vasco
had to bury his brother on the island. He finally
arrived back in Lisbon in September 1499, a broken
man. To the king. To the king and to the people
of Portugal. He was a god. He had done it. He
had proved the route existed. And the small cargo
of spices he did manage to bring back paid for
the entire expedition 60 times over. A 60 -fold
return on investment. That's insane. It justified
everything. Right. King Manuel I gave him the
grandiose title, Admiral of the Seas of Arabia,
Persia, India, and all the Orient. Okay. Section
3. The second voyage. Degama stays in Portugal
for a bit, but in 1502 he goes back. And the
vibe is very, very different. Completely. In
the meantime, another fleet under Pedro Alvarez
Cabral had gone to India. That trip ended in
a disaster. A riot in Calicut left over 50 Portuguese
dead. So when Degama returns in 1502, he's not
an explorer. He's an avenger. The mask is off.
He's in command of the 4th India Armada. 15 ships.
800 men. Heavy artillery. His orders are explicit.
Break the Zamorin. Force him to submit. Destroy
the Arab trade monopoly by any means necessary.
And this brings us to the single most infamous
incident of his entire life, the pilgrim ship,
the Mirim. The Mirim. This was a ship he encountered
off the Indian coast. It was carrying Muslim
pilgrims returning from Mecca to Calicut. It
was not a warship. It was full of families, wealthy
merchants, women, children. Dagama intercepts
it. He captures it. The passengers realize they're
in a hopeless situation. They offer a ransom.
We aren't talking small change. The sources say
they offered enough gold and jewels to ransom
every Christian slave in North Africa. They offered
a fortune. Everything they had. A normal pirate
or privateer would take that deal in a heartbeat.
That's the business. But de Gama wasn't in business.
He was in the business of terror. He ordered
his men to take all the loot, but he refused
to release the ship. He ordered all the passengers,
men, women, and children, locked inside the hold.
He set the ship on fire. With everyone still
inside. With over 400 people inside. And it wasn't
quick. The ship burned for days. There's a detail
from the Chronicles that is just, it's hard to
even process. It says, Watching them die. Women
were holding up their babies to the portholes,
begging him for mercy for their children. And
he just watched. He let them all burn. He spared
only about 20 children. And that was so he could
forcibly baptize them. Raise them as monks. To
save their souls after he murdered their parents.
Yes. That is, it's pure sadism. It's monstrous.
It's the definition of a war crime. Though, of
course, that concept didn't exist then. But even
for the time, it was seen as exceptionally cruel.
He wanted to send a message to the entire Indian
Ocean. The Portuguese are here and we have no
mercy. We follow no rules. And he carries that
same energy to Calicut itself. He arrives at
the city and issues an ultimatum to the Zamorin.
Expel every single Muslim from your city. Kick
out your entire merchant class, the foundation
of your economy. Which the Zamorin can't possibly
do. He refuses, and Dagama escalates. He captures
a high priest, a Brahmin, who had come out to
negotiate. This was actually the same man who
had helped him on his first voyage. And Dagama
has him mutilated. Excuses him of being a spy.
He orders his men to cut off the priest's lips
and ears. Then he had dog's ears sewn onto the
man's head and sent him back to the Zamorin.
It's psychological warfare. He's saying, I don't
even see you as human. Precisely. Then he lines
up his fleet and bombards the unfortified city
for two days straight, turning the waterfront
to rubble. He captures a fleet of rice boats
in the harbor. He cuts off the hands, noses,
and ears of the crews. The fishermen again. Just
ordinary people. Hundreds of them. He loaded
the severed body parts into a boat and sent it
to the shore with a note telling the Zamorin
to make a curry out of them. It's horrifying.
But here's the cold strategic question. Did it
work? Did this campaign of terror make the Zamorin
surrender? And that's the great irony. No. The
Zamorin was battered. His city was on fire. But
he refused to submit. Degana inflicted unimaginable
suffering, but he couldn't break the political
will of the ruler. He just left a legacy of absolute
burning hatred. So he goes back to Portugal in
1503. He brings back a fortune and spices, but
he hasn't actually won India politically. And
because of that, he gets sidelined. The king
seems to realize that maybe a mass murdering
psychopath isn't the best person to build a stable
long -term administration. You need a governor,
not just a butcher. Right. So he sends other
men like Francisco de Alameda and the great Alfonso
de Albuquerque. These guys are tough for sure,
but they are empire builders, not just raiders.
da Gama spends the next 20 years in Portugal,
basically in the wilderness. Section four, the
final act. It's now 1524. da Gama is an old man.
He's been sitting on his estates complaining
for two decades. He's been feuding with the Order
of Santiago over getting ownership of his hometown,
Sainz. He eventually gets made the Count of Vitiguera
in 1519, which is a huge deal. He's the first
count in Portugal who isn't of royal blood. He
clawed his way into the high aristocracy. But
then the king calls him one last time. A new
king, John III, is on the throne. And the situation
in Portuguese India has deteriorated. The officials
are corrupt. They're stealing from the crown.
Discipline has completely collapsed. The king
thinks, I need a hardliner. I need someone who
terrifies these people in the line. Send in the
wolf. Exactly. He appoints the aging Dagama as
Viceroy of India. Sends him back one last time
to clean house. And on the voyage out, we get
this one final incredible moment that just perfectly
captures his ego. The earthquake incident. This
is cinematic. The fleet is near Dabul on the
Indian coast. And suddenly the water starts boiling.
The ships are pitching violently. It's a submarine
earthquake. A tsunami is forming. The crew must
have been absolutely losing their minds. They
think it's the apocalypse. They're screaming,
praying. And Vasco da Gama, he's sitting on the
quarterdeck. He stands up, looks at his terrified
crew and shouts, Friends, rejoice and be happy,
for even the sea trembles before us. Even the
sea trembles before us. Even the sea trembles
before us. Wow. That's the level of self -belief.
It's the ultimate flex. He genuinely believed
that he was so powerful, so ordained by God,
that nature itself was afraid of him. But nature
always wins in the end. It always does. He arrives
in India. He starts firing corrupt officials.
He starts cracking the whip. And then... A mosquito
bites him. Malaria. Malaria. He falls ill in
Cochin. And on Christmas Eve, 1524, the great
admiral, the man the sea trembled before, dies.
Even his death has a bizarre plot twist. The
case of the bones. Oh, this is just classic.
So he was buried in a church in India at first.
Years later, his son moves his bones back to
Portugal, to the family estate in Vitaguira.
He lays there for centuries. Let me get to the
19th century. 1880. Portugal's in a very patriotic
mood. They want to honor their greatest national
hero. So they decide to move his remains to the
Geronimo's Monastery in Lisbon. It's like their
national pantheon. A huge date ceremony. Oh,
yeah. Kings, queens, soldiers. Yeah. They march
this grand coffin into the monastery. A fitting
tribute. Except. Except four years later, a historian
is checking the records. And they realize they
dug up the wrong grave in the family crypt. Yes.
They had moved the bones of his great -grandson.
The actual Vasco da Gama was still back in the
dirt in Vitigera. That is unbelievably embarrassing.
It was a national scandal. They had to go back
very quietly, find the right guy, and do it all
over again in 1898. The man who could navigate
the trackless ocean couldn't even get a direct
route to his own final tomb. Okay, section five,
the legacy. We've covered the man, the good,
the bad, and the very, very ugly. Now we have
to weigh the impact. I mean, it is impossible
to oversee the economic shift. Degama broke the
Mediterranean monopoly. He made spices, once
a luxury for kings, affordable in Europe. He
made Portugal the first true global superpower.
He connected the economies of East and West in
a way that has never been broken since. He started
the age of sea -based global trade. And global
imperialism. That's the other side of the coin,
isn't it? It is. He didn't just open a trade
route. He militarized it. Before the Portuguese
showed up, the Indian Ocean trade was largely
peaceful. Merchants didn't sail around with heavy
cannons on their ships. Da Gama changed the rules
of the game. He brought the gunboat to the marketplace.
He proved that you could extract wealth through
overwhelming violence. And that set the template
for the Dutch, the British, the French who followed.
The colonial history of Asia really begins with
Da Gama's cannons bombarding Calicut. It's fascinating
how his image shifts so dramatically depending
on where you are in the world. Totally. In Portugal,
he's the hero of Os Luciados, the great national
epic poem by Camões. He's practically a demigod.
But in India, he's often seen as a pirate and
a villain. You watch modern Indian films like
Rumi and Degama as the primary antagonist. He's
the bad guy. And looking at the Mirim massacre,
the mutilations, it's very hard to argue with
the bad guy label. It is. You can stand in awe
of the seamanship. That massive swing into the
Atlantic, the Volta do Mar, is a stroke of pure
genius. But you cannot and should not ignore
the human cost. The connection to the hemispheres
came with a collision of cultures, and Agama
made sure that collision was violent from day
one. So that brings us to our final thought,
the big takeaway for you, our listener. We live
in a world that Vasco de Gama helped build. Every
time you buy a product that was made in Asia,
every time you look at a global supply chain
map, you are looking at his direct legacy. The
world is smaller, more interconnected because
of him. But we have to ask ourselves, what was
the price of that connection? When we sprinkle
pepper on our dinner, we are, in a very small
way, participating in a global trade that was
forged in fire and blood. So can we separate
the discovery from the destruction, or are they
two sides of the same blood -soaked coin? That's
the question, isn't it? And I don't think there's
an easy answer, but it's certainly something
to chew on. Indeed. Thanks for taking this deep
dive with us. We'll see you next time. Safe sailing.