midnight
suggested Fred , but that was too wild a proposal to be taken seriously . The launch was the apple of the German governmental eye , and the engine crew slept on it always . The prospect was unpromising as ever , yet I went to bed and listened to the strains of Fred 's concertina in the next tent with less foreboding than at any time since reaching Muanza , and fell asleep to the tune of Silver Hairs among the Gold , a melancholy piece that Will liked to sing when hope or courage stirred him . I was awakened near midnight of a moonless black night by a hand on my bedclothes and the light of a lantern in my eyes . `` Hus-s-s-h ! '' said some one . `` Do n't speak yet !