eight in the morning
The pilot decided that we must wait a couple of hours . The sun rose at 6.26 on the first day of March , which was just ten minutes earlier than at Detroit . It soon burned off the fog inshore , so that we could see the ancient city of St. Augustine . Our passengers , who had become so accustomed to sea-life that they did not turn out before eight in the morning , soon began to appear . With the pilot at the wheel we went over the bar before nine , and a run of two miles more brought us to our anchorage off the sea-wall . `` Where are we now , Alick , my boy ? '' asked my cousin Owen Garningham , as he came on deck after we had anchored off the pier .