"Then we'll cry quits. All the same it was a smart bit of work--a jolly smart bit of work--but I'll have to make an entry in the log recording the fact that you've been reprimanded and stating the reason. I don't think it will adversely affect you, Mr. Mostyn; rather the other way, I fancy." Peter thanked the Captain and went about his duties, reflecting that the Old Man wasn't at all a bad sort, and that his bark was certainly worse than his bite. Looking more like a blacksmith than a radio-operator, Peter completed his part of the work and applied the necessary tests. Everything was apparently in order in the wireless-cabin. With a grunt of satisfaction he replaced the receivers and left the cabin. Until the ship sailed--she was due to leave at ten that evening--he was at leisure. "Now for a bath, a shave, and a change," he soliloquized. "It would never do to meet the pater in this state." Somewhat to his surprise he found his father waiting in his son's cabin. "Hello, Peter, my boy," was Captain Mostyn's greeting; "been ratting--or sweeping flues?" Peter certainly looked a bit of a wreck. His sleepless night, following the perilous affair in the lifeboat, had given him a washed-out appearance. He was dog-tired, physically and mentally. He was dirty, unshaven, and rigged out in a very old uniform, with a scarf knotted round his neck in place of the regulation collar and tie. "No, Pater," replied Peter. "Neither ratting nor sweeping flues. I've been choked off by the skipper." "Easy job, judging by that running noose on your neck-gear," commented Captain Mostyn jocularly. "What's happened?" Peter told him, simply and straightforwardly. There was never a lack of confidence between father and son. His parent listened attentively to the bald narrative. "Your skipper was quite right," he observed. "In my days in the Service I wouldn't have thought of allowing a watch-keeping sub to go down to the engine-room and play about with the gadgets in order to slow down the ship. You did much the same sort of thing, chipping into a department that wasn't yours. At the same time, I'm proud of you, Peter. It shows you are not deficient in pluck. Right-o! carry on with your ablutions. I want to have a few words with Captain Bullock about the steelwork. While I'm about it I'll ask him to let you go ashore to lunch with me." Captain Antonius Bullock was rather astonished to find that the managing director of the firm that had virtually chartered the _West Barbican_ for three days was the father of his Wireless Officer. "And I had to log him this morning," declared the Old Man. "Yes, he told me about it," rejoined Captain Mostyn. "No, he didn't grouse about it. He quite sees the force of your argument. In fact, I told him practically the same thing."