"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. "Two hours later, at the expiration of his leave, he returned, looking very dusty and dejected, and reported himself. I chaffed him a bit about going ashore, but nothing could I get out of him, and he never volunteered an explanation to any one, as far as I know." A Lieutenant who had finished playing Bridge and had joined the group of listeners round the fire leaned forward suddenly. "D’you remember his name, sir?" "No," said the Captain, "can’t say I do. Never can remember names." "Not a Mr Tyelake by any chance, sir?" The Captain threw away the end of his cigarette and turned towards the speaker. "Good Lord! Yes, that was it—Tyelake. But look here, Selby,——" The Lieutenant rose and walked towards the door. "If you’ll wait a second, sir, I’ll show you why he went ashore." He left the mess and returned with a soiled sheet of paper in his hand; it was creased by much folding and discoloured with age.