A: Keel

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BaronCzhokula: My, this is astounding! This is so huge—!
CaptSponson: It looks more impressive that it is. You're basically just along for the ride. The computers do everything.
BaronCzhokula: It's still a thrill. What's her draft?
CaptSponson: We have fourteen feet of keel. You sail, then?

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BaronCzhokula: I like messing about in boats. It's all part of the wealthy playboy thing.

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B: Sails

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BaronCzhokula: This is a dyna-rig, isn't it? Do the sails trim themselves when you have it on manual control? I assume they have to respond to the rudder and heading, or you'd luff to a standstill.
CaptSponson: The ship takes care of it. That's rarely an issue since all we have to do is set the course and watch for smaller craft crossing the bow.

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(Brooke is waving a white flag with a red cross— "Need Assistance"— from the bow)
BaronCzhokula: What do you do then?
CaptSponson: Run them over.
BaronCzhokula: Well! I'll remember not to get too close when I'm out yachting! Thank you, Skipper— er— Have you seen which way my child went? She gets into everything, the scamp!