Thursday at eight o'clock in the morning
`` Must we take waterproofs ? '' `` I think cloaks will be enough . '' And so on . And in fact , on Thursday at eight o'clock in the morning , Don Mariano 's launch and the quarantine boat , both clean and adorned like damsels on a fête-day , were impatiently waiting for the people , tossing side by side in the slip by the quay . Four sailors in each were making the final arrangements , from time to time casting inquiring glances now at the river , now at the streets which led from the quay . The passengers were not in sight , and the tide had already gone down two feet and a half . One of the sailors expressed his dislike of tardiness in a rough voice which was far enough from fashionable .