Over the Bounding Main Luke Dwyer and Sue Mayes met when they were both crewing on a yacht in a round-the-world sailing race. They married, started a software business on a shoe- string, came up with several innovative ideas that enabled them to attain financial security, and then started looking for a way of life that would be more fun if perhaps not as profitable. Running a bed and breakfast was one possibil- ity, but it seemed rather tame. Then Sue saw an article in a shipping magazine about the Shingo Maru, a small 1920s-vintage freighter for sale. Luke and Sue sent off for a set of the freighter's plans, looked them over with a maritime architect, and decided to convert the ship into a kind of floating wilderness ex- perience. They figured that a certain part of the cruise clientele must be tired of the typical big-boat cruise, where all you did was sit around on deck or by the pool all day, eat huge fattening meals, and drink all night while watching mediocre entertainment and waiting for the midnight buffet. Luke and Sue would give guests an opportunity not to be pampered but to take part in an experience they would remember for the rest of their lives: helping to sail a ship around the world or, for the less committed, some part of it. About a million dollars and four years later, the con- version was complete, and Sue was breaking a bottle of champagne against the prow of the now-christened Windenwaves, a classic square-rigged, three-masted sail- ing ship with a top mast five stories high. The ports call on its maiden voyage were going to be romantic- sounding, faraway places that most people experienced only through the novels of Joseph Conrad and Robert Louis Stevenson: Bali, Zanzibar, Bora Bora, Fiji, the Galapagos Islands, Tahiti, Samoa, Barbados, and Antigua. About half the time would be spent sightseeing in these ports and about half the time at sea. The hired crew of twelve, all of them veteran sailors, would help the three dozen paying guests learn to climb the masts, stand proper watch, navigate by the stars, steer, repair sails, and all the other standard shipboard activities. For the privilege of co-producing their own sailing expe- rience, the guests were to pay anywhere from $4,500 for a one-month onboard stay to $60,000 for the full eighteen-month round-the-world trip. After about six months, approximately half of the passenger-guests had experienced the thrill of a lifetime. The other half wanted their money back. They didn't enjoy sleeping in bunks in one big dorm-type room, get- ting seasick, using a hose for a shower, being without TV, eating canned and dried foods (the ship had no re- frigeration), and having little privacy. Some guests just couldn't "learn the ropes," and the experienced sailors among the crew didn't seem to be able to teach them how. One guest, who later claimed that he had been forced to climb the five-story mainmast, curled up into a paralyzed ball and had to be airlifted by helicopter to shore. He later sued the Dwyers and Windenwaves Part- ners Ltd. for $750,000 and won; the Dwyers had not thought to get insurance protection against such an action. The delighted guests thought their trip on the Wind- enwaves was a high point in their lives, and not just be- cause of the climb up that five-story mast. Said one, "Everybody who's been on a sailboat dreams of a trip like this. We saw places and things we would never get to see in any other way." The disappointed guests were really disappointed. They saw no reason why they should pay so much money and have to do so much of the work themselves. Said one, "I wanted a relaxing cruise. They treated me like a common sailor; made me scrub the decks and empty the slop. At those prices, who needs it? Next time, I'm going on the Disney Magic." 1. Which dangers of co-production became realities for Luke and Sue? 2. How might they have headed off those dangers by planning more thoroughly?