It had been Major Abaza’s intention, as soon as one of the Company’s vessels should arrive, to go to the Russian city and province of Yakutsk, on the Lena River, engage there five or six hundred native labourers, purchase three hundred horses, and make arrangements for their distribution along the whole route of the line.  The peculiar state of affairs, however, at the time the Varag and the Clara Bell reached Gizhiga, made it almost impossible for him to leave.  Two vessels—­the Onward and the Palmetto—­were yet to arrive with large and valuable cargoes, whose distribution along the coast of the Okhotsk Sea he wished to superintend in person.  He decided, therefore, to postpone his trip to Yakutsk until later in the fall, and to do what he could in the meantime with the two vessels already at his disposal.  The Clara Bell, in addition to her cargo of brackets and insulators, brought a foreman and three or four men as passengers, and these Major Abaza determined to send under command of Lieutenant Arnold to Yamsk, with orders to hire as many native labourers as possible and begin at once the work of cutting poles and preparing station-houses.  The Varag he proposed to send with stores and despatches to Mahood, who had been living alone at Okhotsk almost five months without news, money, or provisions, and who it was presumed must be nearly discouraged.

On the day previous to the Varag’s departure, we were all invited by her social and warm-hearted officers to a last complimentary dinner; and although we had not been and should not be able with our scanty means to reciprocate such attentions, we felt no hesitation in accepting the invitation and tasting once more the pleasures of civilised life.  Nearly all the officers of the Varag, some thirty in number, spoke English; the ship itself was luxuriously fitted up; a fine military band welcomed us with “Hail, Columbia!” when we came on board, and played selections from Martha, Traviata, and Der Freischuetz while we dined, and all things contributed to make our visit to the Varag a bright spot in our Siberian experience.

On the following morning at ten o’clock, we returned to the Clara Bell in one of the latter’s small-boats, and the corvette steamed slowly out to sea, her officers waving their hats from the quarter-deck in mute farewell, and her band playing the Pirate’s Chorus—­“Ever be happy and blest as thou art”—­as if in mockery of our lonely, cheerless exile!  It was a gloomy party of men which returned that afternoon to a supper of reindeer-meat and cabbage in the bare deserted rooms of the government storehouse at Gizhiga!  We realised then, if never before, the difference between life in “God’s country” and existence in north-eastern Asia.

As soon as possible after the departure of the Varag, the Clara Bell was brought into the mouth of the river, her cargo of brackets and insulators discharged, Lieutenant Arnold and party sent on board, and with the next high tide, August 26th, she sailed for Yamsk and San Francisco, leaving no one at Gizhiga but the original Kamchatkan party, Dodd, the Major, and myself.