l82 CHALLENGER 



'Now, you're the Sports Officer,' said Sam as Doc entered the 

 cuddy; 'the Police want to take us on in a shooting match.' 



From the heights along the north coast of Cyprus the Turkish 

 mountains may be seen on a clear day. The Hydrographic Depart- 

 ment at this time was anxious to fix the position of the Island of 

 Cyprus with reference to the Turkish coast, and this could be 

 satisfactorily achieved by observing angles between the various 

 Turkish peaks from the survey stations along the Cyprus heights. 

 General Gordon was despatched with Geoff Simeon, one of the 

 junior surveying officers, to attempt this task while the ship went 

 down to Port Said to refuel. Geoff was a quiet young man, with 

 a fine sense of humour and an easy-going personality. Later, when 

 Simeon became First Lieutenant of Challenger and she re-visited 

 Canada, a friend told the author there that 'Geoff is the most 

 relaxed guy I ever saw.' He had been one of the postal hoaxers, 

 but now he and General set off together from Pyrgos on the jeep 

 with a packet of letters as usual to post by the wayside. They 

 first of all went to Nicosia to visit the Police Department, who 

 made arrangements for them to stay in the police station guest 

 rooms which are provided for visiting government officials, for 

 there are no hotels in the remote villages. Then they motored on 

 across the great dusty plain to the mountains towering beyond 

 and commenced zig-zagging up the hillside roads, which left the 

 cornfields and melon farms behind and passed upward through 

 the olive groves, crossing and re-crossing the mountain streams 

 which were at this time of year no more than a trickle. Rizo- 

 Karpaso on the tip of the long peninsula which forms the north- 

 east end of the island was the first objective, and there they arrived 

 to be welcomed by the constabulary and what appeared to be the 

 whole population of this large village. They entertained the sur- 

 veyors until an early hour on the roof-garden of the local cinema- 

 restaurant. The staff of this establishment had all at one time or 

 another served in a Soho cafe or a London night club, and the 

 person who set himself up as the interpreter had only recently 

 returned to this distant sunny village after two years' service in 

 the half-light of the Embassy Club. 



In the police guest rooms their companion was Peter, the 

 Customs man. His greeting on arrival in the village had been 



