"Hullo," said the Captain, "none of you ashore! Thought you all came into the Navy to see life!"
The Commander laughed. "We're beginning to forget there is such a thing as the beach."
The Captain lit a cigarette. "Not a bad principle either—saves your plain-clothes from wearing out." He settled down in an arm-chair somebody had vacated. "Like an old Gunner of a small ship I was in once in the West Indies; he only went ashore three times during the commission—once at Trinidad, and once at Bermuda, and each time when he returned he had to be hoisted on board in a bowline." There was a general laugh. "What about the third time, sir?" asked the Engineer Commander.
"Third time—ah, that was rather mysterious. We never discovered why he did go ashore that day. I don't know now." The Mess scented a yarn; thrice-blessed was their Captain in that he could tell a yarn.
"We were cruising round that fringe of islands, part of the Windward Group, showing the Flag, and the Skipper decided to look in at a place called ... h'm'm. Can't remember what it's called—Port des something ... Port des Reines, that's it,—what did you say, Selby?"
"Nothing, sir, go on..."
"The last place ever made, this Port des Reines, and it's not finished yet—just a mountain and the remains of an old French settlement. Well, we anchored off this God-forsaken hole, and as soon as the Skipper had had a look at it he decided to up killick and out of it; as far as I can remember he had to go and lunch with the Consul, but he was to come off in a couple of hours' time; so we banked fires, and off went the Captain in the galley.
"No sooner had he gone than the Gunner—this funny old boy I've been telling you about—came to my cabin (I was by way of being First Lieutenant of that ship—we'd no Commander) and asked for leave to go ashore.
"I was rather startled: couldn't imagine what on earth he wanted to do. I told him we were under sailing orders, and only staying a couple of hours, and that it was an awful hole: had he any friends staying there, I asked him. No, he said, he had no friends there, but he particularly wanted to land there for an hour or so on urgent private affairs, as he called it.
"Well, he seemed in rather a stew about something, so I gave him leave and lowered a boat. Off he went in his old bowler hat (he always went ashore in a bowler hat and a blue suit) armed with something wrapped up in paper; this turned out afterwards to be a sort of pick or jemmy he had got the blacksmith to make for him a couple of days before; that must have been when he heard the ship was going to Port des Reines; it was the only clue we ever had.