Watcher Partridge, on turning over to his opposite number, had hung the telephones on the main switch. He was deeply surprised and not a little pained when there was a miniature Brocks' display inside the cabin, both ear-pieces of the 'phones burning out and emitting most nauseating fumes, while every fuse on board had been blown out, causing a complete breakdown of the electric-light system. After explaining matters to the angry Old Man, who was, figuratively, hunting for the scalp of the luckless Partridge, Mostyn set to work to rectify the share of the damage that came within his province. It took him the best part of an hour to replace the defective main switch by a new one, connect new telephones, and overhaul the set. Then, back once more to his bunk, Peter realized that less than five hours remained before he took over the watch. It was now 3.15 p.m. At 4.45 the engineer of the watch interrupted Mostyn's dreams. Once again the fuses had blown out, the cause being traced to the wireless-cabin. The Wireless Officer stumbled across Master Plover at the foot of the bridge ladder. The Watcher was nursing his foot, and making inarticulate noises that denoted pain. The sole of his left boot was missing, together with the fearsome array of hobnails that used to play a tattoo upon the brass treads of the ladders. Master Plover could give no coherent account of what had happened. "I was sittin' there as quiet as a mouse a-listenin' in," he whimpered, "when I found myself chucked orf me chair right through the blinkin' door. S'elp me, I didn't do nothin' to the gadgets." Peter guessed rightly as to what had actually happened. The Watcher wasn't watching. In other words, he had been dozing, and in a somnolent state had unconsciously placed his iron-shod boot upon the long-suffering main switch. Making good defects, Mostyn managed to soothe the still highly nervous Plover into a state of tractability. Till a quarter to eight the jaded Wireless Officer did enjoy an uninterrupted sleep, then to be awakened by Mahmed's cheerful announcement: "Char, sahib." Ten minutes later Peter took on. As he heard the dot-and-carry-one patter of the relieved Watcher's solitary boot, he smiled to himself and reflected that, although the work of a wireless officer is at times a strenuous one, it has its humorous side and is not without compensations. CHAPTER X The Unheeded SOS During the rest of the day the _West Barbican_ rolled before the following wind, to the no small discomfort of the majority of the passengers. It was a cold wind, too, and few of the passengers who had withstood the attacks of _mal de mer_ ventured on deck. "Have you found out who that loud-voiced female passenger is?" inquired Peter of Anstey, as the two paced the almost deserted boat-deck. He put the question with ulterior motives, masking the main point of his curiosity.