ten o'clock
And slower and ever slower moved the sea-mammoth , lugubriously trumpeting her distress and dismay at the plight in which she found herself . Thus and no otherwise would the Tyro have vented his grief and chagrin , had he possessed competent vocal organs , more lost and befogged than the ship which bore him and his sorrow to an alien land . For breakfast had come and gone , and then luncheon and dinner , and nowhere had he caught so much as a glimpse of Little Miss Grouch . At ten o'clock that night he was standing immersed in gloom , within and without , staring out over the rail into a world of blackness . Far out in the void , a bell tolled . The Tyro resumed his purposeless promenade , meditating cheerlessly upon buried hopes . Now , were individuals required , as are craft , to carry fog signals , this maritime record might be something other than it is .