Fifteen years or so ago, I knew an old trader, a Scotchman, who had then
lived forty years in the far North. His only link with civilization was
the supply ship which called at his Post, once a year, in summer.
In those days radios were unknown. The man was content with one mail a
year. As soon as the vessel had left his station, he was entirely cut
off from the rest of the world until the next summer.
He worked for a rival company and for several years I never had an
occasion to meet him, although we had a trading station of our own a few
miles down the coast.
In 1911, our steamer was passing his Post when we saw a whale boat,
manned by four Eskimos, coming out to meet us. In the stern sat the old
man. Knowing that our ship was the first in that year, we slowed down
expecting that the trader was in some kind of trouble.
[Illustration: An old trader]
As soon as he got within hailing distance he stood up, put his hands to
his mouth and shouted: “Good morning! Who won the fight?” For a few
seconds we were so surprised that none of us could speak. Meanwhile, the
small boat remained bobbing up and down on the swell; the old man still
standing and looking up toward the bridge.
Suddenly it dawned upon the skipper that the old Scotchman was one year
back in his news, and that he was inquiring about the famous “Jim
Jeffries-Jack Johnson” fight which had taken place exactly thirteen
months before!
Our ship being the first in, he could not wait until his own vessel
arrived, bringing him a whole year’s collection of daily newspapers. He
simply had to satisfy his craving for news of that fight over which he
had pondered, alone, during twelve long months. “Jack Johnson won by a
knock-out,” we all shouted down to him. He heard us the first time.
Lifting his hand over his head as a sign of thanks, he sat down without
a word and motioned the Esquimos to row back to shore.
Meanwhile our skipper telegraphed “Full speed ahead” and we proceeded on
our way.