Tossing at anchor outside were more than a dozen ships, waiting for dark to attempt the crossing.

As he went, a seaplane came humming in from the mists, circled the old town, and took the harbour water in a slither of foam.

He had to wait while a big Argentine ship ploughed slowly in up a narrow channel, and then, in the late afternoon, crossed a narrow swing foot-bridge, and found himself on the main outer sea-wall.
Following directions, he turned to the right and walked as if going out to the harbour mouth a mile or so ahead.

It seemed impossible that his camp should be here, for on the one hand he was close to the harbour, and on the other, over a high wall and some buildings, was plainly to be espied the sea.

A few hundred yards on, however, a crowd of Tommies were lined up and passing embarkation officers for a big trooper, and Peter concluded that this was the leave boat by which he was to mark his camp across the road and more or less beyond it.
He crossed a railway-line, went in at a gate, and was there.
The officers' quarters had a certain fascination.