The erection was of solid construction, lighted by six brass-rimmed scuttles. The door, opening aft, was affording support to a couple of pale-faced, weedy-looking youths, who, on seeing Mostyn appear, made no attempt to shift their position, not even to the extent of removing their hands from their pockets. The Wireless Officer realized at once who these lads were. Already he had had his suspicions on the point. The fact that he had received no intimation of the presence of a junior wireless operator rather prepared him for the discovery. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. The taller of the two boys glanced at his companion as if urging him to reply. Receiving no encouragement from that direction he gazed vacantly into space. "Bloke dahn there told us to 'ang on 'ere," he announced, in the sing-song voice of a city-bred, elementary schoolboy. "We're Watchers," added his companion. "Oh, are you?" rejoined Peter. "Then please to remember that when you are spoken to by an officer you will address him as 'sir'." Mostyn was not snobbish--far from it, but the attitude and tone of the pair went against the grain. It was the first time that he had found himself "up against" the genus Watcher, and the impression served to support the adverse reports he had heard of the general incompetence and uselessness of the class. "Watchers" were the outcome of an ill-advised step on the part of shipowners towards economy. A second-class ship, such as the _West Barbican_, might carry either two trained and Government-certificated operators--men who were qualified in both the practical and technical side of radiography--or she might carry one operator and two Watchers. The latter were simply and solely unskilled youths who were sent on board ship to "listen-in" for wireless messages. They took turns in putting on the telephones and waiting for wireless calls. All they could do--or were expected to do--was to recognize two call signals: the SOS and TTT, the latter an urgent general signal of lesser importance than the well-known call for aid. To the Watchers the Morse Code was a sealed book. Their occupation was of a blind-alley nature. They could hardly hope to qualify as operators, lacking the aptitude, intelligence, and opportunities for gaining their wireless ticket. In short, they were a cheap product whereby their employers sought to cut down expenses by dispensing with one of two wireless officers, regardless of the grave risk that an error on the part of these half-baked dabblers in radiography might endanger the ship.