five in the
evening
But , as young Mr. Aiken , the wireless operator , pointed out , unless driven by a hurricane and the fear of death , no one ever visited it . Back of the ancient wharfs , that dated from the days when Porto Banos was a receiver of stolen goods for buccaneers and pirates , were rows of thatched huts , streets , according to the season , of dust or mud , a few iron-barred , jail-like barracks , customhouses , municipal buildings , and the whitewashed adobe houses of the consuls . The backyard of the town was a swamp . Through this at five each morning a rusty engine pulled a train of flat cars to the base of the mountains , and , if meanwhile the rails had not disappeared into the swamp , at five in the evening brought back the flat cars laden with odorous coffee-sacks . In the daily life of Porto Banos , waiting for the return of the train , and betting if it would return , was the chief interest . Each night the consuls , the foreign residents , the wireless operator , the manager of the rusty railroad met for dinner . There at the head of the long table , by virtue of his years , of his courtesy and distinguished manner , of his office , Mr. Marshall presided .