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.

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.