“One mid-winter day off the coast of Massachusetts, the crew of a mackerel schooner spotted a bottle with a note in it [...] ‘On Georges Bank with our cable gone our rudder gone and leaking. Two men have been swept away and all hands have been given up as our cable is gone and our rudder is gone. The one that picks this up let it be known. God have mercy on us.’”

Junger starts the book this way for three reasons: one is to foreshadow the fate of the Andrea Gail. A second reason is to show the dangers of fishing, and how long ships have been lost at sea in this area of the world. The third reason is that the last part of the 1896 note says “let it be known.” He is telling the story of the Andrea Gail, and the perfect storm in 1991, but he is also telling the story of all ships lost at sea: the fear, the sorrow, the fateful not-knowing. He is letting it be known, as the note says.

“‘Most of them are single kids with no better thing to do than spend a lot of dough,’ says Charlie Reed, former captain of the boat. ‘They’re highrollers for a couple of days. Then they go back out to sea.’”

The author mentions on several occasions this dual aspect of the lives of fishermen: one part of their life on shore leave, the other part at sea. When they come home from sea, they drink hard. They spend time with their family. They sleep with their wives or girlfriends. Growing up in the fishing town of Gloucester, they know how dangerous the sea is, so when they come home, they party. They celebrate being with loved ones, and they celebrate returning from the sea, because fishermen do not always return.