Wednesday morning, five o'clock
said Mr. Toley , the man of melancholy countenance . `` I have a message from Captain Barker , '' said Desmond . `` I am to say that he expects you and the men at Custom House Quay next Wednesday morning , high tide at five o'clock . '' Mr. Toley lifted the tankard at his left hand , drained it , smacked his lips , then said in a hollow voice : `` Bulger , Custom House Quay , Wednesday morning , five o'clock . '' A grunt of satisfaction and relief rolled round the company , and in response to repeated cries for more beer a stout woman in a mob cap and dirty apron came from the inn with a huge copper can , from which she proceeded to fill the empty tankards . `` Is the press still hot , sir ? '' asked Mr. Toley .