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Question 3·Hard·Text Structure and Purpose

The passage below is from the fictional memoir Voyage to the Last Meridian (1878). Harriet, an amateur naturalist, recounts her first day aboard an expedition ship bound for the South Pacific.

I rose long before dawn, unable to sleep for the racket of the winches and the peculiar antic excitement that attends a life abruptly untethered from the familiar. Standing at the rail, I watched the harbor lights shrink to pinpricks, then vanish altogether; only a faint gray margin separated sea from sky. The crew moved about with practiced haste, reefing canvas and checking provisions, while the scientists, myself included, shuffled half-awake on the quarterdeck, clutching notebooks like children on their first day of school.

Captain Weaver, noticing our unease, offered a brisk lecture on shipboard order—latitude readings at noon, plankton tows at dusk, and so on—then dismissed us to breakfast. Yet before he turned away, he rested a hand on my shoulder and, in a voice too low for the others to hear, warned that the ocean "never reveals her character all at once; she withholds it, trial by trial, from the impatient."

That single sentence made the meal taste of salt and omen; I realized the voyage would test more than my capacity to classify specimens. It would assay the sturdiness of my own convictions, those comfortable hypotheses I had carried aboard like excess luggage.

Which choice best describes the primary function of the underlined sentence (the captain’s private remark) within the passage?