twelve o'clock
The men walked back to the office in grim silence , and took turns in watching with a glass the arms of the semaphore , three miles below , at the narrow opening of the bay . Clay smiled nervously at himself , with a sudden sinking at the heart , and with a hot blush of pleasure , as he thought of how often he had looked at its great arms out lined like a mast against the sky , and thanked it in advance for telling him that she was near . In the harbor below , the vessels lay with bare yards and empty decks , the wharves were deserted , and only an occasional small boat moved across the beaten surface of the bay . But at twelve o'clock MacWilliams lowered the glass quickly , with a little gasp of excitement , rubbed its moist lens on the inside of his coat and turned it again toward a limp strip of bunting that was crawling slowly up the halyards of the semaphore . A second dripping rag answered it from the semaphore in front of the Custom-House , and MacWilliams laughed nervously and shut the glass . `` It 's red , '' he said ; `` they 've come . '' They had planned to wear white duck suits , and go out in a launch with a flag flying , and they had made MacWilliams purchase a red cummerbund and a pith helmet ; but they tumbled into the launch now , wet and bedraggled as they were , and raced Weimer in his boat , with the American flag clinging to the pole , to the side of the big steamer as she drew slowly into the bay .