ten o'clock
I fought with the greasy brass and the broken , worn-out tools . I made wasters and started again . The sweat poured off me , and I drank thirstily the warm water in the can that hung over my head in the ventilator . It was ten o'clock when I realized I had made but one screw . The fireman on duty came through , and remarking that he thought the wind had gone round , climbed the ladder to change the ventilators . I heard the groan of the cowl as he pulled at it and then my lamp flared gustily in a light breeze that came down . Light as it was it was a blessed relief .