Medusa (NUMA Files 8)

Perlmutter escorted his guests into his kitchen, poured two more cupfuls of New Guinea coffee, and doled out the early brunch on three Limoges plates. They all sat around a polished wooden kitchen table, one of the few flat surfaces in the carriage house not piled high with books.

“Sorry for the early-morning call,” Paul began, “but there is some urgency to our search. We’re trying to track down the 1848 logbook of a New England whaling vessel named the Princess. We hoped you could tell us where to start.”

Perlmutter’s bushy brows bobbed up and down.

“Caleb Nye’s ship!” he exclaimed.

Gamay tossed her head back and laughed in surprise.

“You never cease to amaze, Julien,” she said. “We mention a whaling ship, one of hundreds, and you have the name of the captain on the tip of your tongue.”

“Only because the young man had an experience that was quite memorable in the annals of whaling. Caleb was not the captain. He was the ship’s green hand, the designation given the newest crew member. He claimed to have been swallowed by a sperm whale. The story enjoyed wide circulation in his day.”

“Is that even possible?” Paul asked.

Perlmutter nibbled thoughtfully on a croissant, then said, “That question has been debated going back to Jonah. Nye wasn’t the only one who claimed that a sperm whale had swallowed him. In 1891, some years after Nye’s adventure, a whaler named James Bartley, serving aboard the Star of the East off the Falkland Islands in the South Atlantic, reportedly disappeared after a sperm whale overturned his whaleboat. When the crew was carving the whale up later for blubber, they found Bartley alive doubled up inside. His skin and hair were bleached white, supposedly from the mammal’s gastric juices. He went back to work after a few weeks of rest. Or so the story goes . . .”

“I detect a note of skepticism in your voice,” Paul said.

“With sound reason. Bartley’s story is one of those tales that never die, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. Occasionally, a writer who’s resurrecting that old chestnut will contact me. I refer such inquiries to the findings of Edward B. Davis, who thoroughly investigated the story.”

“His conclusions?” Paul asked.

“Davis scoured every document he could find on Bartley’s story. There really was a ship named the Star of the East, but nothing to substantiate the report that Bartley had been checked out at a London hospital for damage to his skin from a whale’s gastric juices. Moreover, the wife of the ship’s captain said the story was made out of whole cloth. The Star was not a whaler, and the British did not go whaling off the Falklands at that time. Despite these disclaimers, stories about Bartley’s supposed ordeal have persisted through the years.”

Paul turned to Gamay.

“You’re the marine biologist in the family. Would it be possible for a sperm whale to swallow a man?”

“Sperm whales have been found with giant squids in their stomachs, so, physiologically, it might be possible.”

Perlmutter popped a forkful of salmon in his mouth, dabbed his lips, pronouncing the food fit for human consumption.

“Davis theorized that Bartley capitalized on his naturally pale complexion,” he said. “He used the name of a real ship, got some stories in the local press, and even may have persuaded a friend to pose as the captain. He eventually joined a circus, billing himself as ‘Jonah of the Twentieth Century.’ ”

Gamay frowned in thought.

“Fascinating,” she said, “but what does this have to do with Caleb Nye and the Princess?”

Perlmutter pushed his empty plate aside and rose from the table. He knew where every item in his extensive collection could be found. He opened a tall metal storage container, explaining that the box was moistureproof and temperature controlled to preserve his papers, and pulled out a poster two by three feet in size. It announced, in huge circus typeface, that CALEB NYE, A LIVING JONAH, would be giving an ILLUSTRATED PRESENTATION at the FIRST PARISH METHODIST CHURCH in WORCESTER, MASS. The engraving, colored by hand, showed a sperm whale attacking a whaleboat.

“My guess is, Bartley heard about Caleb’s show and decided to put one together himself,” he said. “After I received yet another query from a tabloid scrivener, I decided to go beyond the Davis research. That’s when I discovered that some fifty years before Bartley surfaced, Nye had been the star of a traveling show that featured him as a modern-day Jonah.”

Gamay said, “Was Caleb’s story simply an earlier version of the scam?”

Perlmutter tugged at his beard.

“I think not. In contrast to Bartley, Caleb Nye did serve aboard a whaling ship in the Pacific Ocean, and witnesses said he was swallowed by a whale. He produced affidavits from the master of the ship, Captain Horatio Dobbs, and fellow crew members saying that the story was true. I think Bartley used Nye’s story. Unfortunately, the skepticism over Bartley’s claim tainted Nye’s claim. You said that you were looking for the 1848 log of the Princess?”

“That’s right,” Paul said. “We’re hoping you can help us find it.”

“A profoundly wise decision on your part. I suggest that you start with Rachael Dobbs.”

“Is Rachael related to the good captain?” Gamay asked.

“A great-great-great-granddaughter. She lives in New Bedford, and is the curator of the Dobbs Museum. I spoke to her when I was researching the subject.”

Paul said, “We could be there in a couple of hours.”