about eight o'clock in the morning
He is still grasping the Bible in his right hand , though its strengthening grace is blank to his vacant eye , and he cowers in the stern as we pull slowly to the steamer while a pale gleam in the sky shows the coming day . I was weary with excitement , and when we reached the steamer , and I had seen Joseph Tryan comfortably bestowed , I wrapped myself in a blanket near the boiler and presently fell asleep . But even then the figure of the old man often started before me , and a sense of uneasiness about George made a strong undercurrent to my drifting dreams . I was awakened at about eight o'clock in the morning by the engineer , who told me one of the old man 's sons had been picked up and was now on board . `` Is it George Tryan ? '' I ask quickly . `` Do n't know ; but he 's a sweet one , whoever he is , '' adds the engineer , with a smile at some luscious remembrance .