Soon he discovered the actual cause. The stout wire halliard taking the for'ard end of the aerial had parted, and the two wires, spreaders, and insulators had fallen on the boat-deck. Removing the now useless telephones and donning his pilot coat, Mostyn went out into the open, glad of the slight protection from the cutting wind afforded by the canvas bridge-screens and dodgers. Already lascars, in obedience to the shrill shouts of the serang and _tindal_ (native petty officer), had swarmed upon the bridge ready to clear away the debris. Accompanied by the bos'un Mostyn made a hasty examination of the damage. The aerials had fortunately fallen clear of the funnel, and, although the for'ard insulators had been shattered, the drag of the wires had kept the after ones from being dashed against the main topmast. It was "up to" the Wireless Officer to repair and set up the aerials as soon as possible. While the lascars were clearing away a spare halliard, Peter began to replace the broken spreader and its insulators. Cut by the keen wind, drenched with the rain and spray, and chilled to the bone in spite of his heavy pilot coat, Mostyn struggled with refractory wires until his benumbed hands were almost raw and hardly capable of getting a grip on the pliers. It was a hit-or-miss operation. In the circumstances he had no means of testing the insularity of the aerial. He could only hope that, when once more aloft, it would function properly. With a sigh of relief he completed the final splice and turned to the serang. "Heave away!" he ordered. The man gave a shrill order. Instantly the hitherto passive line of lascars handling the slack of the rope broke into activity. Gradually the aerial tautened, as a score of brown-faced, thin-limbed natives tailed on to the hauling part of the wire halliard. Quickly at first, then with gradually diminishing speed, the double line of wire rose from the deck and disappeared from view in the spray-laden darkness of the night, and presently the serang reported that the aerial was close up. Mostyn returned to his post. Glancing at the clock he noted with astonishment that the task had taken him exactly an hour. Then, replacing the telephones to his ears, he endeavoured to thaw his benumbed fingers in front of the electric-light globe. Hour after hour passed in monotonous inactivity. The appearance of the devoted Mahmed with a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches--most of the tea was spilt, and the sandwiches were abundantly salted and moistened in the process of mounting the bridge--proved a welcome diversion. Just before midnight a second disaster occurred to the aerial. This time the double wires parted, practically simultaneously, about midway between the masts. This point, being almost immediately above the funnel, is always a fruitful source of trouble, owing to the comparatively rapid deterioration set up by the gases from the furnaces.