Recollecting that Ben had said that he "smelled land" on another
memorable occasion, the boys checked their disposition to laugh,
although the professor, who was trying to dissect a strange little
fish he had caught the day before, ridiculed the idea.

"Ice being a substance consisting of frozen water and without odor,
what you say is a contradiction in terms," he pronounced with much
solemnity.

"All right, professor," said Ben, with a wink at the boys, "maybe ice
ain't as easy to tell as an electric ray, but just the same I'm an old
whaling man and I can smell ice as far as you can smell beefsteak
frying."

This was touching on the scientist's weak spot, for like many men of
eminence, he was nevertheless fond of a good dinner and his alacrity
in answering meal calls had become a joke on board.

"You are arguing 'ad hominum,' my dear sir," spoke the professor with
dignity. "Ice and beefsteak have no affinity for one another, nor do
they partake of the same qualities or analyses."

Whatever Ben might have said to this crushing rejoinder was lost
forever, for at this moment there was a great disturbance in the water
a short distance from the ship. The boys saw a whale's huge dark form
leap from the waves not forty feet from the bow and settle back with a
crash that sent the water flying up in the air like a fountain.

"Whale ho!" shouted Ben, greatly excited. "Hullo," he exclaimed the
next instant, "now you'll see some fighting worth seeing."