We were now off the Falkland Islands, when a sail was sighted. The lookout announced that she was a whaler. He knew that, of course, by the boats she carried. Word was given to write letters for home as quickly as possible. It was evident that the approaching vessel desired to “gam” because she was bound home and wanted to learn the latest news. The social feature of whaling was gamming—that is, the ships exchanged visits by boats’ crews, the two captains remaining for the time on one ship, and the two first officers on the other. Another method as well was to let part of the crew of one ship visit the other, and, while the captains and officers were in the cabin, the men gathered forward, chummed, smoked poor tobacco, sang songs, danced to the notes of a battered accordion, played games, and, perhaps, listened to the yarn of some good story-teller. The vessel we were interested in proved to be the _Billow_ of New Bedford. The captain with a boat’s crew boarded us. They were bound home after a four years’ voyage, with a good cargo of sperm, and had heard nothing from New Bedford for nearly a year. As we had been out a considerable period, there was little or nothing to communicate, but the visit did everybody good and, as the boat returned, we gave them a lusty cheer. This very day, as there came a lull in some work I was doing for Lakeum, he said, “Where are we now, Bleechly?” “Off the Falkland Islands.” “What’s on the starboard side?” “The Strait of Magellan.” “Who was Magellan?” “A great navigator.” “When did he discover the Strait?” “I think in 1520.” “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?”