How we cite our quotes: (Section.Paragraph)
Quote #1
"Well," said the cook, "perhaps it's not a house of refuge that I'm thinking of as being near Mosquito Inlet Light. Perhaps it's a life-saving station."
"We're not there yet," said the oiler, in the stern. (1.19-20)
First, we'd just like to point out the double meaning of the word "stern," as Crane uses it here. The cook is a pretty jovial guy, while the oiler is very serious—in other words, stern. Here he is being stern while sitting in the stern of the boat. Maybe this is unintentional, but with an author as perceptive as Crane, we doubt it. Anyway, this contrast in personalities is reflected in each man's sense of determination. The cook is determined to remain positive and optimistic, and the oiler is straight-up determined to survive. He doesn't mess around—he's just focused on getting out of this boat.
Quote #2
"Bail her, cook," said the captain, serenely.
"All right, captain," said the cheerful cook. (2.22-23)
This one group of determined dudes. Here, we can see the captain remaining calm and collected as he gives instructions, and the cook not letting their dire situation get him down. We wonder—how might this story be different had the four men not had such consistent and determined personalities? If we were ever stranded in a lifeboat, we'd definitely want the cook to be in there with us. Also MacGyver. And maybe someone who can catch fish. Oh, and Chris Rock, just because he's awesome.
Quote #3
For these reasons, and for others, neither the oiler nor the correspondent was fond of rowing at this time. The correspondent wondered ingenuously how in the name of all that was sane could there be people who thought it amusing to row a boat. It was not an amusement; it was a diabolical punishment, and even a genius of mental aberrations could never conclude that it was anything but a horror to the muscles and a crime against the back. (3.8)
Basically, the oiler and correspondent aren't so psyched about rowing. We'd like to add one more sentence to the end of this passage, to really hit our point home for you. It would be, "And still they kept rowing." They hate it so much, but still they keep on. If that's not determination, we don't know what is.
Quote #4
"Well," said the captain, ultimately, "I suppose we'll have to make a try for ourselves. If we stay out here too long, we'll none of us have strength left to swim after the boat swamps." (4.9)
This points back to one of the "Mortality" quotes, where the correspondent tries to force his muscles to work, but they just refuse to operate. The captain has no doubts of his crew's courage, but he also knows the longer they wait, the less their bodies will cooperate with their efforts to survive. This is like one of those marathons where the first two runners approach the finish line. One of them starts sprinting to the finish, and while the other one tries to keep up, he's got nothing left in the tank and falls further and further behind. The captain wants to make sure they sprint to the finish (so to speak) while their bodies can still respond. More than anything, it shows again how he never loses sight of their ultimate—and only—goal: survival.
Quote #5
"Wonder how long he can keep that up. He's been revolving his coat ever since he caught sight of us. He's an idiot. Why aren't they getting men to bring a boat out. A fishing boat—one of those big yawls—could come out here all right. Why don't he do something?" (4.75)
We find an interesting paradox in this line. The men look at the wild man on the beach swinging his coat around his head. On one hand, they're impressed that he can keep on swinging it for so long, but as he does this, they all agree that he should "do something," because what he's doing is so pointless and unhelpful. Does that seem important? Let's back up: the guy on the beach has a certain determination of his own, to keep swinging that coat, but the men on the boat, given their dire situation, don't have the luxury of participating in such frivolous actions. So the man is, to quote, "an idiot." The men in the boat, meanwhile, cannot be distracted from looking for ways to escape their predicament. If only the captain could shout commands to the beach as easily as to the other side of the boat.
Quote #6
In the meantime the oiler rowed, and then the correspondent rowed, and then the oiler rowed. Gray-faced and bowed forward, they mechanically, turn by turn, plied the leaden oars. The form of the light-house had vanished from the southern horizon, but finally a pale star appeared, just lifting from the sea. The streaked saffron in the west passed before the all-merging darkness, and the sea to the east was black. The land had vanished, and was expressed only by the low and drear thunder of the surf. (4.85)
This might be the moment where we're most impressed by their effort. Imagine if you were doing something really difficult and painful. Let's say someone asks you to stand on one foot and hold a watermelon above your head. If you do it for long enough, you'll get a hundred dollars. They don't tell you how long you'll have to do it, but they put the money on a table on the other side of the room. So let's say you do it for an hour, and suddenly the lights go out. You can't see the money any more. How much harder did it just get to hold up that watermelon? Okay, now imagine holding up that watermelon sitting in a tiny lifeboat rocking in the ocean in the middle of the night. No thanks, right? What we're trying to get at is how impressive these men's effort is. Things are looking pretty hopeless right now, but they persevere. The "pale star" is a nice touch, suggesting that they are, even in blackest night, kept in some cold company.
Quote #7
The oiler plied the oars until his head drooped forward, and the overpowering sleep blinded him. And he rowed yet afterward. Then he touched a man in the bottom of the boat, and called his name. "Will you spell me for a little while?" he said, meekly. (5.6)
This points to the importance of the co-dependent relationship between the oiler and the correspondent. Each of them knows that once the other guy starts rowing, they want him to row for as long as is humanly possible, and that the moment one of them stops, the other will have to start. The fact that the oiler and correspondent are taking turns and counting on each other to put forth maximum effort makes all the difference. It's through their cooperation that they muster determination and strength.
Quote #8
The January water was icy, and he reflected immediately that it was colder than he had expected to find it off the coast of Florida. This appeared to his dazed mind as a fact important enough to be noted at the time. The coldness of the water was sad; it was tragic. This fact was somehow mixed and confused with his opinion of his own situation that it seemed almost a proper reason for tears. The water was cold. (7.18)
We love the sarcasm here. We can almost imagine Jon Stewart reading it: "The water was cold, is what I'm saying here." It doesn't say much about determination except to once again emphasize the stress and discomfort these guys are under. He can't even think straight anymore—the part where Crane refers to the correspondent's "dazed mind" suggests that a not-dazed mind wouldn't be crying over the temperature of the water—yet he continues to fight against the tears and against the waves.
Quote #9
Presently the boat also passed to the left of the correspondent with the captain clinging with one hand to the keel. He would have appeared like a man raising himself to look over a board fence, if it were not for the extraordinary gymnastics of the boat. The correspondent marvelled that the captain could still hold to it. (7.25)
A captain goes down with his ship, right? Well, this captain allowed his ship to go down without him, and that's probably weighing pretty heavily on him. Check out how he clings to this little lifeboat—not only to stay afloat, but also to protect the boat himself. Even despite his injury, which made him unable to pitch in around the boat in other ways, by sheer force of will, he attaches himself to the boat and refuses to let go. Now that's determination.
Quote #10
But later a wave perhaps whirled him out of this small deadly current, for he found suddenly that he could again make progress toward the shore. Later still, he was aware that the captain, clinging with one hand to the keel of the dingey, had his face turned away from the shore and toward him, and was calling his name. "Come to the boat! Come to the boat!" (7.29)
Just as the captain's initial introduction mentions that he is "mourning" for his lost ship, so too does his final appearance frame him as the guardian of the lifeboat, and his determination to remain with it (to protect it, even) at all costs. Somebody needs to cut this guy some slack.