Mr. —— (I have not permission to mention his name), having heard of me from one of the officers who had travelled in the _Professor_, sought me out and asked if he could assist me in any way. He took me in his car to the S.N.O.’s office, where I had to report, and then on to his club to lunch. When he heard that, knowing no one in the town, I proposed to put up at an hotel, he invited me to stay at his own house—a privilege I very gratefully accepted. Thanks to the kindness of these Good Samaritans, the days I spent in Durban must ever remain a most happy memory. Eventually I sailed, homeward bound, in a Union Castle liner. I had a two-berth cabin, which I was lucky enough to keep to myself for the whole of the voyage. We lay at Cape Town for twenty-four hours, which just gave me time to go to Simonstown, where I had heard that, after my capture, my effects had been stored. I was greatly relieved to find that they were really there, for, at the moment, all I possessed were some whites, a few indispensable necessaries I had bought at Zanzibar, and the relics of my prison clothes. We sailed from Cape Town on a Sunday morning, but before we were out of sight of land the vessel suddenly slowed down, turned round, and commenced to steam back towards the port. Great excitement! What _was_ up? Many were the varied speculations indulged in before a steward solved the mystery for us. Stowaways! Two _girls_ had been discovered hidden in one of the boats, where they hoped to have evaded observation until the ship was too far on her voyage to turn back. But luck was against them, and when they had been handed down into a tender, which came out in response to our signal, we once more steamed away. On board we were quite a cheery crowd, including a goodly contingent of men from the Colony and Zanzibar going home to do their “bit”; but what surprised me was the number of women and children, especially among the second-class passengers. The weather was delightful, and I found plenty to occupy my time. Deck-games in the forenoon, and in the hot lazy hours after midday a novel and a long deck-chair in which to read or doze as the mood prompted. After dinner we played bridge in the smoking-room, and then came a final stroll round the deck in the starlight before turning in. Almost I could forget that we were at war, and even the horrors of my captivity began to fade and grow dim as the quiet days sped past. Christmas was spent at sea: a great disappointment this, as I had hoped to be home by then, and I knew how anxiously my arrival was awaited by my people. Nevertheless I was feeling much easier in my mind, and had a curious presentiment that all was well with them. True, I had no very recent news; the letters awaiting me at Zanzibar were all of an ancient date, written prior to my release. Still—I was going _home_, and in that thought lay comfort sufficient for the moment.