Yokohama. It is a stock company; and though it
started out very well, the stock has fallen very low. Between
ourselves, it is not worth over three or four cents. When the officers
of the company found out that no one would buy their stock, and that
no one believed in them or their scheme, they laid a cable to Octavia,
and extended it on to this island. Then they said they had run out of
ready money, and would wait until they got more before laying their
cable any farther. I do not think they ever will lay it any farther,
but that is none of my business. My business is to answer cable
messages from San Francisco, so that the people who visit the home
office can see that at least a part of the cable is working. That
sometimes impresses them, and they buy stock. There is another chap
over in Octavia, who relays all my messages and all my replies to
those messages that come to me through him from San Francisco. They
never send a message unless they have brought some one to the office
whom they want to impress, and who, they think, has money to invest in
the Y.C.C. stock, and so we never go near the wire, except at three
o'clock every afternoon. And then generally only to say 'How are you?'
or 'It's raining,' or something like that. I've been saying 'It's
raining,' now for the last three months, but to-day I will say that
the new consul has arrived. That will be a pleasant surprise for the
chap in Octavia, for he must be tired hearing about the weather. He
generally answers, 'Here too,' or 'So you said,' or something like
that. I don't know what he says to the home office. He's brighter than
I am, and that's why they put him between the two ends. He can see
that the messages are transmitted more fully and more correctly, in a
way to please possible subscribers."

"Sort of copy editor," suggested Albert.

"Yes, something of that sort, I fancy," said Stedman.

They walked down to the little shed on the shore, where the Y.C.C.
office was placed, at three that day, and Albert watched Stedman send
off his message with much interest. The "chap at Octavia," on being
informed that the American consul had arrived at Opeki, inquired,
somewhat disrespectfully, "Is it a life sentence?"

"What does he mean by that?" asked Albert.

"I suppose," said his secretary, doubtfully, "that he thinks it a sort
of a punishment to be sent to Opeki. I hope you won't grow to think
so."

"Opeki is all very well," said Gordon, "or it will be when