six o'clock
Many times I see more bad . Too much wind , too much work . Rotten dam bad . '' I could guess that the scene on deck was a spectacle , and at six o'clock , as gray light showed through my ports in the intervals when they were not submerged , I essayed the side-board of my bunk like a gymnast , captured my careering slippers , and shuddered as I thrust my bare feet into their chill sogginess . I did not wait to dress . Merely in pyjamas I headed for the poop , Possum wailing dismally at my desertion . It was a feat to travel the narrow halls .