“Did he go through?”
“Yes, but he had an awful time of it.”
“How did you learn these things?”
“Read them up.”
Lakeum continued, “Now, Bleechly, you know how it has quite often happened that, when a sperm whale has been struck, the line has parted and years afterwards the same whale has been taken at a place far distant from the place of the first encounter. Let me give you a real case. I am told that just about where we are now, many years ago a boat of the bark Resolute of New Bedford, belonging to the whaling firm of Justin & Davidson, struck a sperm. He was a big fellow and put up a great fight. They had to cut the line, and he went off with the harpoon in him. Several years afterward, the same vessel, at a spot in the Indian Ocean seven thousand miles away, captured the same whale and cut out the harpoon in him. When they had cleaned it they found the imprint, Justin & Davidson.
“How did the whale get to the place where they found him?”
Lakeum, who, as I have said, was a man of good education, delighted occasionally to ask questions with a view of testing my knowledge, and in this case the location of our vessel suggested the questions themselves. I had been so successful in responding to his queries about the Strait of Magellan that I did not want to fail in this second exercise. I set out to say that the whale swam to the Pacific Ocean, but was restrained by the thought that Lakeum was in earnest and that the remark would be regarded as impertinent.
“Think it over and let me know in half an hour.”
I could have gone to Kreelman, but to solicit his help would not have been fair. It occurred to me to think over the habits of whales, and immediately the whole thing was perfectly clear.
“Can you answer the question?” said Lakeum, later.