le even Ransome himself (much to the fore in
lending a hand) had to enlarge his wistful smile for a fleeting moment.

I left for the shore in the steam pinnace, and on looking back beheld
Mr. Burns actually standing up by the taffrail, still in his enormous
woolly overcoat. The bright sunlight brought out his weirdness
amazingly. He looked like a frightful and elaborate scarecrow set up on
the poop of a death-stricken ship, set up to keep the seabirds from the
corpses.

Our story had got about already in town and everybody on shore was most
kind. The Marine Office let me off the port dues, and as there happened
to be a shipwrecked crew staying in the Home I had no difficulty in
obtaining as many men as I wanted. But when I inquired if I could
see Captain Ellis for a moment I was told in accents of pity for my
ignorance that our deputy-Neptune had retired and gone home on a
pension about three weeks after I left the port. So I suppose that my
appointment was the last act, outside the daily routine, of his official
life.

It is strange how on coming ashore I was struck by the springy step,
the lively eyes, the strong vitality of every one I met. It impressed me
enormously. And amongst those I met there was Captain Giles, of course.
It would have been very extraordinary if I had not met him. A prolonged
stroll in the business part of the town was the regular employment of
all his mornings when he was ashore.

I caught the glitter of the gold watch-chain across his chest ever so
far away. He radiated benevolence.

"What is it I hear?" he queried with a "kind uncle" smile, after shaking
hands. "Twenty-one days from Bangkok?"

"Is this all you've heard?" I said. "You must come to tiffin with me. I
want you to know exactly what you have let me in for."

He hesitated for almost a minute.

"Well--I will," he said condescendingly at last.

We turned into the hotel. I found to my surprise that I could eat quite
a lot. Then over the cleared table-cloth I unfolded to Captain Giles
the history of these twenty days in all its professional and emotional
aspects, while he smoked patiently the big cigar I had given him.

Then he observed sagely:

"You must feel jolly well tired by this time."

"No," I said. "Not tired. But I'll tell you, Captain Giles, how I feel.
I feel old. And I must be. All of you on shore look to me just a lot of
skittish youngsters that have never known a care in the world."

He didn't smile. He loo