There were thousands of these insects all over the ship, ranging in size from an eighth of an inch to nearly three inches in length. Whilst the _West Barbican_ was in home waters their presence was invisible. They kept to the dark and inaccessible parts of the ship; but directly the weather grew warmer, as the ship neared the Tropics, they emerged fearlessly from their lairs and swarmed everywhere. By this time the passengers had grown more or less accustomed to them, but the early stages of the invasion of the living pests of the ship had caused great consternation and indignation, especially on the part of the ladies on board. In times of boredom, when the passengers were "fed up" with deck-quoits and sweepstakes on the "day's run", the cockroaches would be pressed into service to provide entertainment. A dozen or more would be captured and placed on the deck, each having its own particular "fancier" in a miniature race, and it was surprising to see with what zest the passengers entered into the sport. Presently Peter heard a light footfall on the deck, followed by a distinct knock upon the wide-open door of the cabin. Rising, Peter found that Olive Baird was standing outside the brass-rimmed coaming. "Good morning, Mr. Mostyn," she said. "Will you mind telling me if a message can be sent to Cape Town? And how much per word, please?" "Sorry, Miss Baird," he replied, "we aren't in touch with any shore station. We may possibly get the Cape Town one to-morrow night." At the back of his mind Peter found himself wondering why Miss Baird hadn't gone to the trouble of reading the announcement on the notice-board. He was rather glad she hadn't--perhaps she had purposely ignored it. It gave him an opportunity of entering into conversation with the girl. Already Anstey had found out quite a lot about Olive Baird. How, he refused to divulge, but it was pretty certain that the girl had let out little or nothing. Olive Baird was motherless. Her father had married again to a woman only five years older than his daughter, and, instinctively scenting domestic trouble in the near future, Olive had determined to earn her own living--a task that she had already found to be far more difficult than the cultured girl had imagined. Almost at the end of her resources--for she knew that she would receive neither sympathy nor help from her estranged parent--Olive remembered a distant relation, a girl but a few years older than herself, who had married an official holding an appointment in the Kenya Colony. To her Olive wrote, asking if there might be any post open to her in the district. Three months elapsed before the reply came--that there was a warm welcome awaiting her. Enclosed was a banker's draft, enough, and only enough, to pay for her passage out and to provide a necessary and simple outfit.