eight
o'clock
Sometimes , I 'm told , the sea is like glass , with hardly a ripple . '' `` I hope it turns out that way today , then , '' remarked George , as he began to do a little final tinkering with his machinery before the start . Jack watched the tide , knowing something about how the wind would be apt to come up at a certain change , as it usually does . Then , at eight o'clock , or `` eight bells , '' as Nick delighted to call it , the signal was given , the gallant little flotilla started off ; and an hour later the three motor boats were moving through the heaving sea , with nothing but water toward the east and south , as far as the eye could reach . They were now fully launched on the broad Atlantic , and must take chances of making a safe harbor before the coming of the wind . `` Why , fellows , this is dead easy ! '' George called out , after they had been making good time for an hour or more , with the heaving sea showing no sign of taking undue advantage of the confiding little motor boats that had ventured on its placid bosom .