The vast extent of water was a sea. It was the Caspian.

The eddies of sand had been passed. There was a view of a group of
European houses rising along a promontory, with a church tower in the
midst of them.

The "Albatross" swooped down towards the surface of the sea. Towards
evening she was running along the coast-which formerly belonged to
Turkestan, but now belongs to Russia--and in the morning of the 3rd
of July she was about three hundred feet above the Caspian.

There was no land in sight, either on the Asiatic or European side.
On the surface of the sea a few white sails were bellying in the
breeze. These were native vessels recognizable by their peculiar
rig--kesebeys, with two masts; kayuks, the old pirate-boats, with one
mast; teimils, and smaller craft for trading and fishing. Here and
there a few puffs of smoke rose up to the "Albatross" from the
funnels of the Ashurada streamers, which the Russians keep as the
police of these Turcoman waters.

That morning Tom Turner was talking to the cook, Tapage, and to a
question of his replied, "Yes; we shall be about forty-eight hours
over the Caspian."

"Good!" said the cook; "Then we can have some fishing."

"Just so."

They were to remain for forty-eight hours over the Caspian, which is
some six hundred and twenty-five miles long and two hundred wide,