At the height of the Great Depression, when few families could afford holidays, Herbert Dyce Murphy invited groups of children to his seaside house on the Mornington Peninsula. He built a tiny railway for them in his garden, took them on picnics and sailing trips, and told them wonderful stories about his past; elaborate tales of whaling ships and royal soir?es, of espionage and Antarctic blizzards, full of adventure, intrigue and romance. How much of it was true? Does it matter? What sort of person was Murphy?