ten minutes past two
At last he slept soundly , and awoke refreshed , but hungry . The loaf lay beside him , and with his knife he cut a slice from it , munching the coarse bread with more of relish than he had thought possible when he first saw it . Then he took out another cigarette , struck a match , looked at his watch , and lit the cigarette . It was ten minutes past two . He wondered if a night had intervened , but thought it unlikely . He had landed very early in the morning , and now it was afternoon . He was fearfully thirsty , but could not bring himself to drink from that stream of death .