trees and awaited the moment when we should raise the
top-mast. We pulled it up half-way and Bickerton affixed a pin in its
centre, above which two stays were to be attached. Suddenly, down came
the wind in terrific gusts and, after securing the stays, the job had to
be given up.... We were just about to have lunch when the wind ceased as
suddenly as it had begun. We all sallied out once more, and, this time,
completed the job, though for a while the top-mast was in imminent peril
of being blown away by a sharp northerly gust."

Next day the aerial was hoisted in a wind of sixty miles per hour, but
the strain was so severe on the block, upwind, that it carried away.
Fortunately the insulators of the aerial were entangled by the stays in
their fall to ground, otherwise some one may have been hurt, as there
were a dozen men almost directly below.

Six days after this accident, August 17, the top-mast halliard of the
down-wind mast frayed through, and as a stronger block was to be
affixed for the aerial, some one had to climb up to wire it in
position. Bickerton improvized a pair of climbing irons, and, after some
preliminary practice, ascended in fine style.

Finally, by September 30, the aerial was at such a height as to give
hope that long-distance messages might be despatched. There was a
certain amount of suppressed excitement on the evening of that day when
the engine started and gradually got up speed in the dynamo. The sharp
note of the spark rose in accompanying crescendo and, when it had
reached its highest pitch, Hannam struck off a message to the world at
large. No response came after several nights of signalling, and, since
sledging had usurped every other interest, the novelty soon wore off.

"Atmospherics"--discharges of atmospheric electricity--and discharges
from the drift-snow were heard in the wireless receiver.

While messages were being sent, induction effects were noted in metallic
objects around the Hut. A cook at the stove was the first to discover
this phenomenon, and then every one conceived a mania for "drawing"
sparks. A rather stimulating experience--the more so as it usually
happened unexpectedly and accidentally--was to brush one's head against
one of the numerous coils of flexible metal gas-piping festooned about
the place. Sparks immediately jumped the interval with startling effect.

October 13, the day when the mast blew down, was known in wireless
circles as Black Sunday. All had wo