sun of four o'clock
There was a long , almost imperceptible swell , with little queer seabirds that I have never seen before -- and trust I never shall again -- dotted about on its glassy slopes . The coast-line looked low and grey and dull , as , I think , coast-lines always do when viewed from the deep . The breeze that Bernard had promised us we should find outside was barely enough to keep us moving . The burning sun of four o'clock focussed its heat on the deck ; Bernard stood up among us , engaged in what he was pleased to call `` handling the stick , '' and beamed almost as offensively as the sun . `` Oh , we 're slipping along , '' he said , his odiously healthy face glowing like copper against the blazing blue sky . `` You 're going a great deal faster than you think , and the men say we 'll pick up a breeze once we 're round the Mizen . '' I made no reply ; I was not feeling ill , merely thoroughly disinclined for conversation .