“We can, perhaps, recover the confession.”
Frank whistled in surprise.
“Why, how absurd!” he exclaimed. “It must have become absorbed long ago in the whale’s stomach. In any event the creature has no doubt long ago been captured and destroyed.”
“No,” said Stanhope, firmly; “I do not believe that. I have heard of the silver whale many times since. Numerous whaling captains have reported it in parts contiguous to the locality where poor Tucker met his fate. I believe with this submarine boat we can pursue and capture the silver whale.”
“Very well; but the confession——”
“It was folded and kept in a metal box or case which Tucker wore in his belt. It could not be absorbed, and I have seen objects of metal many times taken from the stomach of a whale.”
Frank’s face lit up.
“So it was in a metal case.”
“Yes.”
“Then there is a chance!” cried the young inventor, springing up. “George, I am deeply interested. If the silver whale is yet in existence, we will run it down and recover the confession, if possible. It at least affords us an object for our submarine voyage.”