eleven o'clock
Would any one hereafter dispute with him on the subject of Louisiana sea-coast navigation ? He knew every pass and piece of water like A , B , C , and could tell , faster , much faster than he could repeat the multiplication table -LRB- upon which he was a little slow and doubtful -RRB- , the amount of water in each at ebb tide -- Pass Jean or Petit Pass , Unknown Pass , Petit Rigolet , Chef Menteur , -- Out on the far southern horizon , in the Gulf -- the Gulf of Mexico -- there appears a speck of white . It is known to those on board the _ Pique-en-terre _ , the moment it is descried , as the canvas of a large schooner . The opinion , first expressed by the youthful husband , who still reclines with the tiller held firmly under his arm , and then by another member of the company who sits on the centreboard-well , is unanimously adopted , that she is making for the Rigolets , will pass Petites Coquilles by eleven o'clock , and will tie up at the little port of St. Jean , on the bayou of the same name , before sundown , if the wind holds anywise as it is . On the other hand , the master of the distant schooner shuts his glass , and says to the single passenger whom he has aboard that the little sail just visible toward the Rigolets is a sloop with a half-deck , well filled with men , in all probability a pleasure party bound to the Chandeleurs on a fishing and gunning excursion , and passes into comments on the superior skill of landsmen over seamen in the handling of small sailing craft . By and by the two vessels near each other . They approach within hailing distance , and are announcing each to each their identity , when the young man at the tiller jerks himself to a squatting posture , and , from under a broad-brimmed and slouched straw hat , cries to the schooner 's one passenger : `` Hello , Challie Keene . ''