“Never,” he replied.  “I didn’t know there was such a company; but I’ve been out two years on a cruise, and I haven’t kept up very well with the news.”

“How about the Atlantic cable?” I inquired.  “Do you know anything about that?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied cheerfully, as if he were giving me the best news in the world, “the cable is laid all right.”

“Does it work?” I asked, with a sinking heart.

“Works like a snatch-tackle,” he responded heartily.  “The ’Frisco papers are publishing every morning the London news of the day before.  I’ve got a lot of ’em on board that I’ll give you.  Perhaps you’ll find something in them about your Company.”

I think the captain must have noticed, from the sudden change in the expression of our faces, that his news about the Atlantic cable was a staggering blow to us, for he immediately dropped the subject and suggested the expediency of going below.

We all went down into the cosy, well-furnished cabin, where refreshments were set before us by the steward, and where we talked for an hour about the news of the world, from whaling in the South Pacific to dog-driving in Arctic Asia, and from Weston’s walk across the North American continent to Karakozef’s attempt to assassinate the Tsar.  But it was, on our side at least, a perfunctory conversation.  The news of the complete success of the Atlantic cable was as unexpected as it was disheartening, and it filled our minds to the exclusion of everything else.  The world would have no use for an overland telegraph-line through Alaska and Siberia if it already possessed a working cable between London and New York.

We left the hospitable cabin of the Sea Breeze about noon, and prepared to return to Gizhiga.  Captain Hamilton, with warm-hearted generosity, not only gave us all the newspapers and magazines he had on board, but literally filled our boat with potatoes, pumpkins, bananas, oranges, and yams, which he had brought up from the Sandwich Islands.  I think he saw that we were feeling somewhat disheartened, and wanted to cheer us up in the only way he could—­by giving us some of the luxuries of civilised life.  We had not seen a potato, nor tasted any other fresh vegetable or fruit, in nearly two years.

We left the ship reluctantly, at last, giving three cheers and a “tiger” for Captain Hamilton and the Sea Breeze, as we went over the side.

When we had pulled three or four miles away from the bark, Lewis suggested that instead of returning at once to the mouth of the river we should go ashore at the nearest point on the coast, and look over the newspapers while the Cossacks made a fire and roasted some potatoes.  This seemed to us all a good plan, and half an hour later we were sitting around a fire of driftwood on the beach, each of us with a newspaper in one hand and a banana or an orange in the other, and all feeding mind and body simultaneously.