the hour of eight
But this might be expected even of old campaigners , not to speak of young lads who , up to now , had possibly never been more than one or two hundred miles away from home . Jack was really in command , since he had been elected commodore of the club by unanimous vote . He seemed capable of keeping his head in a time of excitement , and that meant a great deal . Everything had been attended to so far as he knew , and they were now only waiting for the town clock to boom out the hour of eight , when the starting toot of his conch shell horn would announce that the race was on . It was a foregone conclusion that the speed boat would easily take the lead , for almost everything had been sacrificed in her construction to the one prime necessity for reeling off the miles . Nick was quivering all over with anxiety . He might have backed out only that he chanced to have a stubborn streak in his make-up , and his word had been given .