ying the furnaces. Seven copecks the forty pounds, the captain says,
is the cost of the fuel, and two and a half roubles the expense of
running the vessel at full speed an hour. There is not an ounce of coal
aboard, the boiler-house is as clean and neat as a parlor, and no cinders
fall upon the deck or awnings. In place of huge coal-bunkers, taking up
half the vessel's carrying space, compact tanks above the furnaces hold
all the liquid fuel. Pipes convey it automatically, much or little, as
easily as regulating a water-tap, to the fire-boxes. Jets of steam
scatter it broadcast throughout the box in the form of spray, and insures
its spontaneous combustion into flame. A peep in these furnaces displays
a mass of flame filling an iron box in which no fuel is to be seen. A
slight twist of a brass cock increases or diminishes this flame at once.
A couple of men in clean linen uniforms manage the whole business. We
both concluded that it was far superior to coal.

Many windings and tackings are necessary to get outside Ashdurada Bay;
sometimes we are steaming bow on for Bunder Guz, apparently returning to
port; at other times we are going due south, when our destination is
nearly north. This, the captain explains, is due to the intricacy of the
channel, which is little more than a deeper stream, so to speak,
meandering crookedly through the shallows and sand-bars of the bay. Buoys
and sirens mark the steamer's course to the Russian naval station of
Ashdurada. Here we cross a bar so shallow that no vessel of more than
twelve feet draught can enter or leave the bay. Our own ship is a
light-draught steamer of five hundred tons burden.

A little steam-launch puts out from Ashdurada, bringing the mails and
several naval officers bound for Krasnovodsk and Baku. The scenery of the
Mazanderan coast is magnificent. The bold mountains seem to slope quite
down to the shore, and from summit to surf-waves they present one
dark-green mass of forest.

The menu of these Caspian steamers is very good, based on the French
school of cookery rather than English. No early breakfast is provided,
however; breakfast at eleven and dinner at six are the only refreshments
provided by the ship's regular service--anything else has to be paid for
as extras. At eleven o'clock we descend to the dining saloon, where we
find the table spread with caviare, cheese, little raw salt fishes,
pickles, vodka, and the unapproachable bread of Russia. The captain and