twelve o'clock
But let 's listen to what Tom says . He 's a smart man , I reckon , sure enough -- the smartest sailor we 've got in the ship ; and I was only jokin ' when I said that about his hailing ! '' Tom Cannon 's favourite place of resort when the ship was at sea , and there was nothing for him to do , especially when he was in the watch off duty , was the foretop , whither he would climb up , blow high or blow low , and ensconce himself , sometimes for hours , until his services were required on deck , or else the rattling of pannikins and mess-kits warned him that something was `` going on in the grub line below , '' when he would descend the rattlins , swiftly or leisurely as the case might be , and take his turn at either grub or duty `` like a man ! '' On this day the captain had not long taken the sun , and `` made it eight bells '' -- twelve o'clock -- so the men had all had their dinner , and Tom gone up to his accustomed post of observation or reflection , for he could n't read , and never slept when he was in the top , although he could have done so comfortably enough if he had wanted to . He was standing erect , looking out ahead , for he was a careful seaman , as both the captain and mate could vouch for , and possessed the keenest eyesight of any man in the ship -- a natural gift for which he was very thankful in his way , and of which it must be said he was also very proud . `` Sail-ho ! '' he shouted , catching sight of something not long after he had taken up his position in the foretop and began to look out mechanically in front of the ship 's course , as was his natural wont .