The cataloger, a pleasant young woman named Elizabeth Bosworth, came on the line. “Julian. How nice to hear from you again.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth. All goes well with you, I trust.”

“Very well, thank you. I've been quite busy indexing agreements of colonial registered vessels dating back to the seventeen hundreds.”

“I hope I'm not calling at a bad time.”

“Of course not, Julian. The material is fascinating, but the work does get a bit tedious at times. What can I do for you?”

“I'm trying to track down some information on an old cargo ship named the Odessa Star and wondered if you could tickle the Lloyd's file for me.”

The Guildhall Library held all the shipping records for the giant international marine insurance underwriter prior to 1985. Lloyd's of London had been established in 1811 to provide a universal system of “intelligence and superintendence” in all the principal ports of the world. To accomplish this goal, Lloyd's had set up a network of agents. By the turn of the century, the agency had more than four hundred agents and five hundred subagents scattered around the globe. Their reports on marine casualties, shipowners, shipping movements and voyages were contained in the library's files, where they were accessible to historians like Perlmutter.

“I'd be happy to look into it for you,” Bosworth replied. Her enthusiasm was due only in part to the generous contributions, far and above the usual research fee, that Perlmutter consistently made to the library. She shared his love of sea history and admired his book collection. More than once, she had gone to him with queries of her own.

Apologizing for providing so little information, Perlmutter relayed the facts outlined by Austin. Bosworth said she would get back to him as soon as she could. Perlmutter hung up and returned to his research for the Smithsonian. With bulldog perseverance, he unearthed a rough sketch of the Confederate twin-hulled ironclad and was typing out a report on his computer when the phone rang. It was Bosworth.

“Julian, I've found some references to the Odessa Star: I'll fax them to you.”

“Thank you so much, Elizabeth. In return, the next time I'm in town I'll take you to lunch at Simpson's on the Strand.”

“It's a date,” she said. “You know where to find me.” They said their good-byes and, a minute later, the fax buzzed and spat out several sheets of paper. Perlmutter examined the top sheet. It was the report of the Lloyd's agent in Novorossiysk, a Mr. A. Zubrin. It was dated April of 1917.