about eleven o'clock
It was slow work , for the tide was only just beginning to turn , and the wind , such as there was of it , was dead in our faces . However , I do n't think either Joyce or I found the time hang heavily on our hands . If one ca n't be happy with the sun and the sea and the person one loves best in the world , it seems to me that one must be unreasonably difficult to please . We fetched up off Southend Pier at just about eleven o'clock . A hoarse-voiced person in a blue jersey , who was leaning over the end , pointed us out some moorings that we were at liberty to pick up , and then watched us critically while I stowed away the sails and locked up everything in the boat which it was possible to steal . I had been to Southend before in the old days . These simple precautions concluded , Joyce and I got in the dinghy and rowed to the steps .