five o'clock in the morning
I ran up the beach and as far across the wet grassland as I could without once stopping . When I thought that I was safe , I sat down under some bushes , took off my wet things , and dressed myself in my own clothes . I wrung the water from the wet canvas , repacked my parcel , and seeing a road close to me , turned into it at once , resolved to ask the way to London at the first house . I suppose that it was five o'clock in the morning when I began my journey . As I stepped out , the adventure , the fight , Marah 's wound , all the tumult of the battle , seemed very far away , and as though they had happened to some one else who had told me of them . If my head had not ached so cruelly from the blow which the soldier gave me , I should not have believed that they had really occurred , and that I had seen them and taken part in them . It seemed to me that I was close to my home , that I should soon come to the combe country , where the Gara runs down the valley to the sea , passing the slate quarry , so grey against the copse .