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"I'm researching the history of a Spanish treasure galleon captured by Drake. Most reports put the ship lost at sea on its way back to England. But according to your account of Thomas Cuttill, it was carried into a rain forest on the crest of a tidal wave."
"That's quite true," replied Bender. "I'd have looked for her myself if I had thought there was the slightest chance of finding anything. But the jungle where she disappeared is so thick you'd literally have to stumble and fall on the wreck before you'd see it."
"You're that positive the Portuguese account of finding Cuttill is not just a fabrication or a myth?"
"It is historical fact. There is no doubt about that."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I own the source."
Perlmutter was momentarily confused. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bender. I miss your point."
"The point is, Mr. Perlmutter, I have in my possession the journal of Thomas Cuttill."
"The hell you say?" Perlmutter blurted.
"Indeed," Bender answered triumphantly. "Cuttill gave it to the leader of the Portuguese survey party with the request that it be sent to London. The Portuguese, however, turned it over to the viceroy at Macapa. He included it with dispatches he forwarded to Lisbon, where it passed through any number of hands before ending up in an antique bookstore, where I bought it for the equivalent of thirty-six dollars.
That was a lot of money back in 1937, at least to a lad of twenty-three who was wandering the globe on a shoestring."
"The journal must be worth considerably more than thirty-six dollars today."
"I'm sure of it. A dealer once offered me ten thousand for it."
"You turned him down?"
"I've never sold mementos of my journeys so someone else could profit."
"May I fly up to Vermont and read the journal?" asked Perlmutter cautiously.
"I'm afraid not."
Perlmutter paused as he wondered how to persuade Bender to allow him to examine Cuttill's journal.
"May I ask why?"
"I'm a sick old man," Bender replied, "whose heart refuses to stop."
"You certainly don't sound ill."
"You should see me. The diseases I picked up during my travels have returned to ravage what's left of my body. I am not a pretty sight, so I rarely entertain visitors. But I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Perlmutter.
I'll send you the book as a gift."
"My God, sir, you don't have to--"
"No, no, I insist. Frank Adams told me about your magnificent library on ships. I'd rather someone like you, who can appreciate the journal, possess it rather than a collector who simply puts it on a shelf to impress his friends."
"That's very kind of you," said Perlmutter sincerely. "I'm truly grateful for your kind generosity."
"Take it and enjoy," Bender said graciously. "I assume you'd like to study the journal as soon as possible."
"I don't want to inconvenience you."
"Not at all, I'll send it Federal Express so you'll have it in your hands first thing tomorrow."
"Thank you, Mr. Bender. Thank you very much. I'll treat the journal with every bit of the respect it deserves."
