For an entire hour I was deep in these musings, trying to probe this
mystery that fascinated me so. Then my eyes focused on a huge world
map displayed on the table, and I put my finger on the very spot
where our just-determined longitude and latitude intersected.
Like the continents, the sea has its rivers. These are exclusive
currents that can be identified by their temperature and color,
the most remarkable being the one called the Gulf Stream.
Science has defined the global paths of five chief currents:
one in the north Atlantic, a second in the south Atlantic,
a third in the north Pacific, a fourth in the south Pacific,
and a fifth in the southern Indian Ocean. Also it's likely
that a sixth current used to exist in the northern Indian Ocean,
when the Caspian and Aral Seas joined up with certain large Asian
lakes to form a single uniform expanse of water.
Now then, at the spot indicated on the world map, one of these seagoing
rivers was rolling by, the Kuroshio of the Japanese, the Black Current:
heated by perpendicular rays from the tropical sun, it leaves the Bay
of Bengal, crosses the Strait of Malacca, goes up the shores of Asia,
and curves into the north Pacific as far as the Aleutian Islands,
carrying along trunks of camphor trees and other local items, the pure
indigo of its warm waters sharply contrasting with the ocean's waves.
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