At Frost Harbor, the long-whale rammed itself into the ice dock. Lu Jianbai, the chief of the Oil Assessment Office, publicly measured the oil and cut the recorded total from 1,124 barrels to 1,097. The full lifetime harvest of the harbor's three thousand people was carved onto the railing, with no room for argument. But Lin Qiuqiu, a crippled former whaler, heard that the sample barrel struck the iron wrong. Numbers had been hidden beneath the marks cut into the channel, and the whale was far fatter than the official tally suggested. He backed up to the drain and pressed his stiff hand to the iron grating, inching along. At the third foot, he heard that the space beneath it was hollow. The shipowner, Feng San, posted a quota sheet with a shortfall, and Lin Qiu's brother, Lin Bo, signed them both onto the Iron Cod without a word. Eight barrels marked "full" were pushed into the cargo hold. Lin Qiu's right hand had already curled up so tightly he could no longer straighten it.
