I didn’t try to make conversation with Captain Giles, whom I had not seen more than twice in my life. But, of course, he knew who I was. After a while, inclining his big shiny head my way, he addressed me first in his friendly fashion. He presumed from seeing me there, he said, that I had come ashore for a couple of days’ leave. He was a low-voiced man. I spoke a little louder, saying that: No--I had left the ship for good. “A free man for a bit,” was his comment. “I suppose I may call myself that--since eleven o’clock,” I said. Hamilton had stopped eating at the sound of our voices. He laid down his knife and fork gently, got up, and muttering something about “this infernal heat cutting one’s appetite,” went out of the room. Almost immediately we heard him leave the house down the verandah steps. On this Captain Giles remarked easily that the fellow had no doubt gone off to look after my old job. The Chief Steward, who had been leaning against the wall, brought his face of an unhappy goat nearer to the table and addressed us dolefully. His object was to unburden himself of his eternal grievance against Hamilton. The man kept him in hot water with the Harbour Office as to the state of his accounts. He wished to goodness he would get my job, though in truth what would it be? Temporary relief at best. I said: “You needn’t worry. He won’t get my job. My successor is on board already.” He was surprised, and I believe his face fell a little at the news. Captain Giles gave a soft laugh. We got up and went out on the verandah, leaving the supine stranger to be dealt with by the Chinamen. The last thing I saw they had put a plate with a slice of pine-apple on it before him and stood back to watch what would happen. But the experiment seemed a failure. He sat insensible. It was imparted to me in a low voice by Captain Giles that this was an officer of some Rajah’s yacht which had come into our port to be dry-docked. Must have been “seeing life” last night, he added, wrinkling his nose in an intimate, confidential way which pleased me vastly. For Captain Giles had prestige. He was credited with wonderful adventures and with some mysterious tragedy in his life. And no man had a word to say against him. He continued: “I remember him first coming ashore here some years ago. Seems only the other day. He was a nice boy. Oh! these nice boys!” I could not help laughing aloud. He looked startled, then joined in the laugh. “No! No! I didn’t mean that,” he cried. “What I meant is that some of them do go soft mighty quick out here.” Jocularly I suggested the beastly heat as the first cause. But Captain Giles disclosed himself possessed of a deeper philosophy. Things out East were made easy for white men. That was all right. The difficulty was to go on keeping white, and some of these nice boys did not know how. He gave me a searching look, and in a benevolent, heavy-uncle manner asked point blank: “Why did you throw up your berth?”