He put in the night-writing against time.  Next morning, just as the vessel for the States was drifting away from her dock, a strong hand flung his bulky envelope of manuscript aboard, and if the vessel arrived his great beat was sure.  It did arrive, and the three-column story on the front page of the Sacramento Union, in its issue of July 19th, gave the public the first detailed history of the terrible Hornet disaster and the rescue of those starving men.  Such a story occupied a wider place in the public interest than it would in these crowded days.  The telegraph carried it everywhere, and it was featured as a sensation.

Mark Twain always adored the name and memory of Anson Burlingame.  In his letter home he tells of Burlingame’s magnanimity in “throwing away an invitation to dine with princes and foreign dignitaries” to help him.  “You know I appreciate that kind of thing,” he says; which was a true statement, and in future years he never missed an opportunity of paying an instalment on his debt of gratitude.  It was proper that he should do so, for the obligation was a far greater one than that contracted in obtaining the tale of the Hornet disaster.  It was the debt which one owes to a man who, from the deep measure of his understanding, gives encouragement and exactly needed and convincing advice.  Anson Burlingame said to Samuel Clemens: 

“You have great ability; I believe you have genius.  What you need now is the refinement of association.  Seek companionship among men of superior intellect and character.  Refine yourself and your work.  Never affiliate with inferiors; always climb.”

Clemens never forgot that advice.  He did not always observe it, but he rarely failed to realize its gospel.  Burlingame urged him to travel.

“Come to Pekin next winter,” he said, “and visit me.  Make my house your home.  I will give you letters and introduce you.  You will have facilities for acquiring information about China.”

It is not surprising then that Mark Twain never felt his debt to Anson Burlingame entirely paid.  Burlingame came more than once to the hotel, for Clemens was really ill now, and they discussed plans for his future betterment.

He promised, of course, to visit China, and when he was alone put in a good deal of time planning a trip around the world which would include the great capitals.  When not otherwise employed he read; though there was only one book in the hotel, a “blue and gold” edition of Dr. Holmes’s Songs in Many Keys, and this he soon knew almost by heart, from title-page to finis.

He was soon up and about.  No one could remain ill long in those happy islands.  Young Burlingame came, and suggested walks.  Once, when Clemens hesitated, the young man said: 

“But there is a Scriptural command for you to go.”

“If you can quote one I’ll obey it,” said Clemens.

“Very well.  The Bible says, ’If any man require thee to walk a mile, go with him, Twain.’”